This is the last chapter of The Rizorian Flaw. I hope you have enjoyed reading this manuscript. The previous chapters 1-15 are all here on this blog. To find them, use the “find” function, using the title The Rizorian Flaw as the search term.

If you have enjoyed this story, please leave me a comment, and consider subscribing to my feed. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.  —Carole

Sixteen

Something disturbed Miriam’s sleep —again.  This time she got up, but rather than just pace the floor, she stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. She found little relief from the heat; the cool mountain winds that usually made sleep possible moved not at all through the torn banana leaves. Only the biting gnats seemed to have the energy to move around, and Miriam automatically slapped at her arms and legs as she peered into the darkness. But it wasn’t heat, nor the gnats that made her restless.

She sensed something within the fabric of the night that was out of place, a sort of wrinkle, a disturbance. Because her eyes could not pierce the darkness, Miriam released her mind to search for answers. When the calls of the coqui changed suddenly from their soothing songs to urgent cries, her anxiety quickened. The moonless sky cloudless, yet brilliant cast an eerie light and the stars seemingly pressed closer to Earth.

Suddenly, feeling a wave of weakness; she sat down on the step and cradled her head in her arms. Miriam had recognized the feeling of immediate danger that strengthened with each heart beat. It had found her.

Miriam reached into even deeper recesses of her mind to fight off the growing sense of panic, and systematically, she drove those feelings from her until she felt in control once again. The struggle wore her out, but the satisfaction she felt in the victorious outcome renewed her. It was time, she decided, to act.

Once again, she illuminated the darkness with her mind and searched the immediate area. Everything was as it should be, but the annoying undercurrent, the whispers, whose meaning she couldn’t quite make out, told her differently, and she knew that she was being warned.

Puzzled as to the meaning of the warning, she decided to check on the children; it was possible one of them was being menaced. Miriam stretched out her awareness to where each one of the children slept. Discovering they were all well she breathed a long sigh of relief; the collective shield that protected them all was intact. Unaware that anything was amiss, the children slept peacefully, and Miriam decided that there was no reason to disturb them. She strengthened the shield, and prayed it would be strong enough to protect them and her. For the moment, all were safe, but she felt drained of energy, and she knew she had to rest. The shield would maintain itself from the high energy levels of her Adept mind, but in order to replenish her energy, sleep and rest were necessry. It was difficult for Miriam to yield to the much needed sleep, but yield she did, knowing the danger that complete exhaustion would bring.

Just before dawn she awakened. Outwardly, everything appeared normal, but the presence of danger was still there. It grew stronger, more persistant, and finally, it demanded all her attention. Suddenly, she sensed something familiar, something that she could latch on to. The usual mountain breezes were on the prowl again, and with them they brought to her the scent of something that she recognized. It was the source of danger.

********

             Ahja followed the hastily drawn map that the clerk from the bureau of tourism had drawn for him. It led him to the town of Cayey, nestled in a basin in the mountains of Puerto Rico. Ahja would have never believed that it could be so easy. At first, this new mission had seemed to be just about impossible, yet here he was an hour or two away from its completion, with months to spare.

The search had begun when he returned to the place where he had lived for all those years on Earth. In the process of straightening his affairs, and getting established once again, he had paid a visit to his bank. Unexpectedly, it was that visit to the bank that had brought him to the Caribbean Island in search of the cause of his memory loss, and Miriam.

Miriam! Was it possible that she was alive?

At the bank he had discovered that all of his funds had been transferred to a bank in Puerto Rico over a year ago. No memory of such a transfer existed in Ahja’s memory, and yet there was no doubt that it had taken place. The bank clerks had remembered the complex transfer, and they were able to produce the records to verify it.

The money had been transferred to Miriam! Ahja’s hands had trembled when he saw her signature clearly on the computer image. Miriam survived! He shook his head in disbelief, he had seen her die in the Purification Squad lasers, yet there was proof that she lived. Incredible. It was even more unbelievable that he had known, and that he had transferred his funds to her. Ahja knew that his next step was to go to see her; his questions had to be answered, and Miriam was the key.

What would happen, he wondered, when he found her. Minje had reminded Ahja before he had left the ship that he was still under oath to complete the mission at all cost. If one Adept still survived, Ahja was now solely responsible for the elimination himself. The Lord Chairman had warned him that he had failed before, and that he must not again. Ahja had assured Minje that he would not fail, and yet he didn’t know it would be Miriam.

           As Ahja’s car climbed the steep mountain roads, he could feel the temperature drop until he felt almost comfortable. Perspiration no longer dripped down his face, and his glasses no longer slid down the narrow bridge of his nose. The road markers were hard to spot, and at times they were all but obscured by the tall grass, but at last he had arrived at the small general store, where he had been assured of further directions.

Just as Ahja entered the store and prepared to ask for directions, the short, red‑faced store keeper ran from behind the makeshift counter over to him. The man threw his arms around a speechless Ahja, and welcomed him enthusiastically. Abruptly, the store owner ran to the doorway; there he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Hey, everybody, look! Ahja has returned!” It wasn’t too long before the store was crowded with people, who welcomed Ahja just as warmly.

           Where did all these people come from? And what was more important, these people knew and liked him! Why had this memory been taken from him?

“Miriam will be so happy to see you again, Ahja,” the red‑faced store owner said. “She told us you would never come back, and I told her that she was wrong. I know true love when I see it. Didn’t I tell all of you that?” he asked of the group of grinning people who crowded around Ahja.

“I have to see Miriam,” Ahja said.

Everyone laughed. There was a festive mood in the store.

“Of course, you want to see her. I’ll send my granddaughter, Milagros to tell her that you are here,” the store owner said.

“No, please, I prefer to go myself,” Ahja protested.

“No, Ahja,” the man said firmly, “all lovers are impatient, but you must give her some time to make herself pretty for you. Go, Milagros, and tell Miriam that Ahja is here!”

Before Ahia could object, the child was out of the store and out of sight. Minutes later, she was back, her cheeks scarlet with the effort of running back up the steep hill to the colmado where Ahja had been forced to wait impatiently.

             ”She is so excited!” Milagros laughed as she clapped her hands. “Come, she wants to see you right away!” The child slipped her tiny hand in his and pulled him out of the store.

As he walked alongside the child, Milagros, Ahja cradled the small communicator in his hand. Minje had slipped it into his pocket before he had left the Lodestar. It was his ticket home. One call with the information that he already had, and the security team would come for him, and Miriam too. Ahja was certain that Miriam was responsible for his memory loss. Certainly, all of his troubles were over, but why did he hesitate? Perhaps, it was because he had to see her again to be sure, or because he wanted to see her for no logical reason. Furthermore, things had happened much too quickly, and he needed time to sort things out.

These people knew him, and they had welcomed him as if he were one of them who had returned home. The words of their language, too, flowed effortlessly through his mind, and when he spoke to these moountain people, the Spanish words seemed to caress his lips—like a kiss. They had said that Ahja and Miriam were lovers. If that were true, how could he have forgotten? Why was he forced to forget?

He saw her then. Miriam walked up the steep path to meet him. She smiled broadly, but as she got closer to Ahja, he could tell  she was under great stress, and that her smile was purely a theatrical one. She doesn’t fool me, he thought. I can play this game, too.

Miriam interrupted his thoughts by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him lovingly on the mouth. Ahja heard a wild cheer, and shouts of encouragement from the people outside the store. Miriam smiled brightly and waved to the small crowd, watching them closely. The child turned and ran back to the main road; Ahja looked deeply into Miriam’s copper eyes, searching for answers.

“Don’t say anything now!” she whispered as she took his hand and led him to the most dilapidated shack that he had ever seen, or remembered seeing. They walked slowly and silently.

They still had not spoken when they went inside of the shack. Miriam sat down on a sofa that dominated the small room. Ahja noticed that its left, front leg was missing. An inverted coffee can held up that end of the sofa, and as Miriam seated herself, the old, and tired furnishing wobbled.

             Ahja stood in front of her feeling awkward, not knowing how to start his questioning. Fighting his feelings of confusion, he glanced around the sparcely furnished room, and chose a wooden, straight back chair that stood in a corner of the room. It was as far as he could get from her without leaving the shack. Ahja couldn’t understand his own silence; there were so many questions that he wanted to ask that were locked up inside of him, yet he was reluctant to release them just then.

Miriam also waited, her eyes round and bright with questions of her own. It would be so easy, she thought, if we linked minds, everything would’ve been settled by now. But Miriam was unsure of Ahja’s reaction should he sense her attempt at a telepathic link, and she had noticed how tightly he held the small metal device in his hand.

“All of those people know me,” Ahja whispered. “I’ve been here before?”

Miriam nodded. It would be wise, she thought, to let him uncover the truth for himself.

“They knew me well?”

“Yes, you had stayed with me for a many weeks. They liked you, and they still like you.

“They say that we were lovers.”

It was not a direct question, and Miriam didn’t comment. Ahja searched her face for some reaction to what he had just said, but her face was impassive, and he could find no answers there.

“If that were true, I would remember, Miriam.”

Silence.

“Aboard the ship, I was told that something, or someone had tampered with my mind, and with my memory. Miriam, talk to me! It’s vital that I find out what happened to me! “

Ahja clutched the communicator in his hand. A part of him wanted to signal the ship, but he couldn’t, not before he had found the answers to his questions. He got up from his chair, walked slowly across the creaking boards of the room, and he sat down on the sofa next to Miriam. He sat stiffly, his hands gripped his knees, the communicator momentarily forgotten.

“What happened, Miriam?” His voice was controlled, but the features of his face hinted at the suppressed rage. “Do you know who did this to me?”

Her lack of response infuriated him, and he lost the control of which he had been always so proud. He jumped from the sofa, and taking hold of her shoulders, Ahja shook her violently. “Did you steal my memories, Miriam? Was it you?”

Miriam did not flinch from his touch. Serenely, she looked into his eyes, smiled faintly and answered him in a whisper so soft that he could hardly hear her.

“Yes, Ahja, I did do that.”

Ahja dropped his hands to his side. “But why?” he cried.

“Because you asked me to do it, in fact, you begged me to, and that is the only reason why I would’ve even considered it. I did it for you!” Miriam had answered without raising her voice, and while Ahja’s expression grew dark and menacing, her face showed no trace of fear.

“That’s ridiculous! Why would I have asked such a thing of you? Why would anyone?”

“Perhaps the past was too painful, or too dangerous to keep.”

“Don’t answer me in riddles, woman, tell me what I want to know.”

“The truth?”

“The truth, all of the truth.”

“When your people came back for you, you were eager to rejoin them. Your only thoughts were of returning to your home world after your long stay here. Only one thing held you back.”

“And that was?”

“The knowledge that during the debriefing, your people would discover that I had not died at the hands of the Rizorians. There was no way for you to hide that knowledge from the debriefer, and you didn’t want your memories to betray me. You came to me with what you said was the only solution, and asked me to erase those memories.”

Ahja had been ready to tear apart any argument, or any explanation that she might have made, but now he hesitated. While he couldn’t accept her explanation readily, he admitted to himself that it was something he might have done. It could’ve happened that way, but without his memory, how would he know for sure?

“Give me back my memories, Miriam!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“They no longer exist.”

“But you had access to them, and you remember.”

“Yes, that’s true, but…”­

“Then if any part of them is still alive in your mind, you can give them back. Do that, and I’ll believe you.”

“I can’t, Ahja. You aren’t Adept, and you don’t have the ability to enter my mind. And even if you could, you might cause irreparable damage to me. All I can do is enter your mind, and share my memories with you, but they would be my memories we would share. You would not be satisfied with my recollection, you would reject them as you reject my explanation even now. Ahja. I’ve never lied to you, surely you can remember that much about me.”

“You’re lying now, and you’re hiding something. That’s why you won’t allow me to enter your mind. With your abilities, you could find a way to do it, if you wanted to.”

“Ahja, you’re wrong. But listen, I don’t think that you need to look into my mind to find the truth. I did what you asked me to do because you were desperate, and you wanted to protect me.”

“If I loved you that much, why would I leave you?”

Miriam shrugged her shoulders and smiled at him sadly. “Only you can answer that, Ahja.”

“If you loved me, why did you let me go? Why did you help me?”

“It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was the right thing to do,” she answered softly.

Ahja stared at this woman, who showed so little emotion, and who returned his gaze without wavering once. Her voice was soft and quiet, her lips did not tremble, nor were there tears in her eyes. How could he judge what she had said?

The sun was beginning to set, and in the growing twilight Ahja spotted tiny flashes of blue‑green light drift past the open door…

The communicator purred warmly in his hand; it seemed to be alive. Ahja had only to depress one small button to be in instant contact with the Lodestar, just one button, and the link would be established. He caressed it as he held it in the palm of his hand. He seemed to be lost in thought, when suddenly, deliberately, he turned his palm over, and sent the communicator crashing to the floor.

Startled, Miriam cried out.

“Don’t worry, Miriam, it’s nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing? It was your communicator, and I know how important it was to you.”

“It isn’t any longer.” Ahja smiled, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the spot on the floor where the shattered communicator lay. He had made his decision, and while there were no doubts, or regrets in his mind, he needed a little more time to sever the link completely between him and the ship that might have taken him home.

            After a while, Ahja pushed aside the shattered remains of the little device with his foot, but he did so gently. At that moment, he felt ready to stop looking backwards at what might have been, and surprisingly, he felt relieved.

All the while Miriam had remained silent. watching him closely. She wasn’t certain what his actions meant, and she was afraid to hope.

Ahja took her hand. “I’ll stay on Earth, Miriam. I’ll stay here with you, if you’ll let me.” Ahja frowned thoughtfully before he added in an almost shy, uncertain voice. “It’s alright, isn’t it, Miriam?”

A tremendous swell of joy washed over her as she fought the insane urge to cry, and to laugh simultaneously.

“Ahja,” she whispered as she drew herself closer to him, “the one thing that I had feared and regretted most was that you would never speak those words to me.”

As they kissed and held onto each other, Miriam’s feelings of tremendous joy broke free from the last restraining bonds, fired by the energy of her mind. Her emotions cascaded from her, surged from the tiny shack, reeled and spun uncontrollably into the sleepy countryside, and echoed through the shadows of the mountains.

Maestra? The thoughts tugged shyly at Miriam’s awareness. Maestra Miriam, is everything all right?

           Oh yes, children, everything is fine, perfect. And I have wonderful news. Ahja will stay here with me, with us!

           Pardon us, Maestra, the thoughts carried many conflicting emotions, we are happy for you, and we like him, but will it be safe?

           There were many other questions in the minds of the children of the mountain, but they found a shield of privacy strung up between them and the mind of their teacher. Accustomed to her constant and ready attention, they did not like the shield that for the first time separated them from her.

The collective minds of the children retreated slowly and reluctantly. They were not yet powerful enough to break through the privacy shield that Miriam had set up, and years of discipline prevented them from trying.

Knowing there would be other times more appropriate for their questioning, the children turned their attention to their children’s games, and to the ever important task of maintaining their shield against scrutiny from everyone outside.

Miriam closed her eyes and smiled. Her children had learned their lessons well. The men from beyond the stars would never know of their existence.

           They are such good children, she thought, listening to their shrieks of laughter as they ran and played. Carefully, she tested their strength. Without taking time out from their games, the children easily held the network of their shield firmly in place.

Miriam was pleased.

The portal of the tiny cabin slid open; the accompanying rush of air alerted him, and Ahja tried to jump to his feet. Two slightly familiar security guards, unsmiling and stiffly at attention, entered and stood at either side of the portal. Following them, nodding her head and smiling solitiously, the Chief Probe‑Tech entered. She examined him quickly and efficiently, and clicked her tongue disapprovingly as she did so.

“You have not rested, Master Ahja,” she said accusingly as if he had committed some grave crime. “You know rest is necessary in order to avoid the adverse effects of the probe.”

Ahja shrugged his shoulders and smiled at her in a helpless sort of way, which seemed to shatter her patience. She waved her carefully manicured hand in the direction of the portal, and almost immediately, an assistant tech entered the cabin with the medication tray in his hands. Before Ahja could object, the Chief Probe‑Tech took what she needed from the tray, and her fluttering hands came to rest on his face. The black sleep mask covered his face, and sleep took hold of him with the next sweep of his eyelashes.

The dream was strange. It aroused in him such strong feelings of loss that even as he slept, tears escaped his tightly closed eyelids.

Young Ahja ran barefoot through the white marble streets of Tragia. He ran aimlessly, desperately; he searched for something that he had lost. Many kind, but faceless passersby stopped to ask what was the matter, but the boy would not answer. He only wailed loudly and continued to run through the maze of the city’s streets. As he ran, he grew older, and he matured into a sure footed, determined youth who no longer cried, but the desperation that he felt was undiminished until, without warning, a comforting warmness enveloped him. He felt peaceful and secure.

It was not a voice, nor were there words that echoed in the surrounding stillness, but the message was clear, and Ahja understood.

            Do you remember?

            Yes, I do! I remember!

Ahja felt such a strong, throbbing, pulsating joy grab hold of him that he felt light‑headed. A tingling warmth reached into every nerve ending of his body, until nothing else existed for him. He felt that he was spinning crazily through the spirals of time and the vacuums of space. Enraptured, he defied the laws of gravity, and he soared above the graceful spires of the city towers. He taunted the spires that gleemed maliciously in the blinding light of Trag’s twin suns, and suddenly they reached for him, they would impale him!

“I remember!” he shouted. His voice rang rebelliously through the empty streets. “I remember!”

Ahja wept as he awakened from his medicated sleep, and even as he shouted his words of defiance to the expressionless walls of the cabin, he knew that he had already forgotten the knowledge. Faint traces of the joy that he had experienced still remained with him, yet it too rapidly ebbed out of his reach, and beyond recall.

The portal to the cabin slid open. Almost immediately, the white‑faced security team assigned to him leapt into the cabin. Concern and apprehension were apparent on their usually expressionless faces. Seconds later the Chief Probe‑Tech ran into the cabin.

After examining Ahja carefully, she assured the nervous guards that there was no cause for alarm.

“Your period of rest is not yet done, Master Ahja,” she scolded him in the low, soft, breathless voice that characterized her speech. “Lie back and rest,” she added as she pushed him back on the bunk with her tiny hands.

There was something about the way that she touched his shoulders that disturbed him. The touch of her hands seemed to recall something in him that he couldn’t fully visualize. He covered her hand with his own. The feeling was not quite right, but it was similar to something that he wanted to remember.

The Chief Probe‑Tech noticed his confusion, and she smiled at him reassuringly. “Please, lie back and rest, Master Ahja. I’ll stay near you, in case you have need of me.”

Ahja shook his head, but he did hat she asked of him.

“Sleep now, Master Ahja,” she whispered so softly that he couldn’t be certain that she had spoken at all. The spot on his shoulder that she had touched felt warm with the memory of her touch.

Ahja closed his eyes, and he was very surprised to discover that sleep was indeed about to close in on him once again. He reached out for her hand as she adjusted the pillow beneath his head, and he held onto it tightly. She did not object, and this time his sleep was undisturbed by dreams.

When he awakened, Ahja found himself thoroughly rested and refreshed. He welcomed the summons to the presence of the Lord Chairman, Minje; Ahja was willing and eager to resume his duties as the Master Translator once again. There was the final step of the debriefing which would mark the end of the Terran mission, and the return to his former life. Ahja relished the thought of the forthcoming interview with the Lord Chairman; he knew that it would be a stimulating and memorable one, the most important meeting of his career.

The greeting was formally correct. Minje was cordial, even warm as he expressed his concern for Ahja’s state of health after his exhausting experiences with the probe. The Master Translator waved aside all concerns about his well‑being with a heroic wave of his hand, and he murmured his thanks for the Chairman’s personal interest in him.

The pleasantries and formalities over, Minje grew unusually silent. Ahja felt as if he were being studied, and he squirmed under the Chairman’s scrutiny. As it was required by protocol for Minje to begin the interview, Ahja did not speak. He stood at attention and wondered why he had not been invited to sit; it was not like Minje to forget a simple courtesy to an old friend. The waiting seemed endless, and Ahja grew weary.

“The job of analyzing the tapes of your debriefing was a long and difficult one, Master Ahja. I must add, however, that it was extremely interesting to me, if not altogether fascinating. Under different circumstances, I could almost envy your adventures on the planet surface.”

Minje smiled weakly as he got up from his comfortable chair in the shimmering conference room of the Lodestar.

 “Ah, my friend, you have aged,” he said as he pointed out the touches of gray that had appeared in Ahja’s hair. “That is one aspect of your adventures that I do not envy.” The Chairman sighed and returned to his seat.

“We, the probe‑techs and I, had a great deal of difficulty with your experiences during the Terran night. I must admit to you that most of us grew ill during those segments.” Minje got up again, and he started to pace around the huge conference table.

“I was extremely proud of you, Ahja, when you conquered the night terror. You were the man that I hand picked for this mission, and you surprised even me, with your courage.” Minje stopped his pacing and stood still at the opposite end of the table. He placed his large, powerful hands on the table surface as if to support his weight, and he leaned forward. There was a scowl on his face, and he bared his teeth as if he were ready to spring across the table and attack.

“But the motivation for such an astonishing feat of courage was not loyalty to me, or to the Federation!” Suppressed anger rumbled beneath the controlled exterior of the Lord Chairman.

Ahja remained silent. It was true. He knew that his acts on the planet surface could be considered treason, and now he had to face the consequences. He had done what he thought was right; it was his only defense, and yet it was no defense at all.

Minje plodded back to his chair; he looked tired, and it was as if the suppression of his rage had exhausted him. The Lord Chairman sighed as he lowered his bulk into his seat.

“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, my Lord Chairman.”

“Yes, she was beautiful, as all Rizorian women are beautiful. I can almost understand how she succeeded in playing with your emotional weakness in order to sway you from your sworn duty.”

Minje paused in his speech to allow Ahja time for a rebuttal, but when he saw that none was forthcoming, he continued.

“You forgot, Ahja, that she was not as helpless as you supposed. Hidden beneath that beauty was the incredible Adept power. What was even more unbelievable was the control that she displayed.” Minje lowered his voice to a whisper. “The Rizorian fanatics were wrong in her case, weren’t they, Ahja?”

“Wrong, Chairman Minje?”

“Of course they were wrong. This one could and did control her abilities,” Minje sighed again, “but then our loyalties must always be with our own, and in this case, it is the Rizorian government. It was not your place to judge, or to interfere in an internal affair. The job with which you were charged was to maintain the unity of the Federation at all cost.”

 Ahja didn’t answer, he stood stiffly at attention, and he concentrated on keeping control.

The Lord Chairman traced a haphazard pattern on the surface of the table with his long fingernail; he seemed lost in thought. After a long while, when he did look up, all of the anger had vanished from his face, but Ahja was not fooled. The Master Translator knew that the Chairman’s rage had been hidden because something even more important required his attention. Ahja steeled himself for whatever might come.

The Chairman smiled at Ahja, and with a gracious wave of his bejeweled hand, he invited the Translator to be seated. Ahja did so, and he hoped that he had hidden his sense of apprehension from the sharp perception of the Chairman. And when the Lord Chairman smiled at him almost apologetically, Ahja nearly lost control.

“It is beyond my comprehension,” the Chairman mused, “how one human being, a flesh and blood creature, like us, can hold within her being such power as you witnessed. And yet, what frightens me even more was the insistence of the Rizorians that the trained Adept were capable of so much more!”

Once again Ahja did not respond to Minje’s comments. He noted to his chagrin, however, that sitting down was no more comfortable than standing.

“Friend Ahja, let us put the past aside. The Adept has been eliminated, and the Rizorians are satisfied. We have, however, another serious problem on our hands at the moment.”

“Another problem, Lord Minje?”

“You, Ahja, appear normal; outwardly you seem to have suffered no ill effects from your stay on the planet surface. You appear to be the same person, but‑”

“But?” Ahja suddenly felt panic claw at his chest.

The Chairman’s words rushed at him, they hammered at his senses, and they almost crushed Ahja with their implication. Somehow Ahja managed to control himself; he knew that above all, he must not do anything to worry, or upset the Chairman. When he spoke, Ahja surprised himself at the clear, controlled steadiness in his voice.

“I am the same person that I have always been, my Lord Chairman. Why do you say that I am not?”

Minje breathed deeply as he folded his hands into a giant fist that he let fall onto the shimmering table surface.

“Ahja, there is something wrong with the results of the probe!”

“You do mean that the probe‑techs have committed an error, don’t you?” Ahja thought that he would have to face the debriefer once again, and that thought sickened him.

“We have cross‑checked; the probe‑techs are not in error, instead they have discovered something so incredible that they don’t know how to explain it.

“Something is very much wrong with you, Ahja, or perhaps I should say that something is wrong with your recall of the time that you spent on the planet surface!”

Ahja held his breath. How could that be possible?

“It is the opinion of the Chief Probe‑Tech that the gaps in your memory have been produced mechanically and systematically.”

Ahja managed to control an outcry of protest, but the effort was evident. His hands shook, and he sought to control them by holding onto the shimmering table in front of him.

“How is that possible?” he asked in what he hoped was a cool, calm and rational voice. “Respectfully, I submit that there is some sort of error, to which the tech will not admit.”

“There is no error, Ahja. I’ve checked the accuracy of the probe myself. Someone, or something has tampered with your memory. And we do not know what else in your mind has been altered!”

“There are tell-tale imperfections in the otherwise perfectly woven cloth that is your memory, Ahja.”

“How was it done, Lord?”

“We are not certain. There are two possibilities. Either the Terrans have the technology to achieve such a surgery, or‑”

“Or?”

“Perhaps an Adept still hides on the planet surface.”

“The planet has been scanned with the detector, hasn’t it?”

“It has.”

“And?”

“The results are negative, but negative results are merely inconclusive, Ahja. For an Adept as skilled, and as powerful as this one would have to be, the shielding of the brain waves against the detector would be a simple task, child’s play.”

“And the disposition of my case, Lord Minje?” Ahja knew that it was improper for him to ask that particular question, but at some point during the conversation, he had stopped caring what was proper.

“This is the most difficult part of all, Ahja. Somewhere in your mind there could be something hidden, placed there by forces hostile to the Federation, and placed there for purposes too diabolical to guess. At some preprogrammed moment, you might be responsible for setting forces into motion which could prove disasterous to the Federation.”

“I cannot be trusted! My loyalty is at question?”

“Regretfully true, Ahja. You are not the same man who started out on this mission. You have been altered, and we must assume that you are the unwilling agent of forces hostile to us. Since we do not know why, and in what way they tampered with your mind’s memories, nor do we know for what purpose, we cannot allow you to remain aboard this ship any longer. You survived well on the planet surface, and we shall return you there. It is all that we can do.”

“Exile!”

“It is a harsh sentence, Ahja, but it is not as harsh as execution. Out of love and respect for the man, Ahja, to whom we owe a debt of gratitude, and who was our dear friend, we wish you no harm.” For the first time during the interview, Minje spoke with regret, and even with a trace of sadness. Ahja wasn’t fooled; weakness did not exist in the Lord Chairman when he played his role.

“There is one chance. If you are able to find the answers to our questions on the planet’s surface, the source and the method of the tampering, and if that tampering can be reversed, or nullified, I shall be able to withdraw the sentence of exile.”

“What you ask is impossible!” Ahja laughed nervously. “it is hopeless, hopeless to even dream that such a thing could be ever accomplished.”

“Do not sell your capabilities short, Ahja. It is something that I think you should attempt. I have no doubt that given your motivation, and given enough time, you could accomplish what at this moment appears to be impossible. The problem as I see it is one of time. Even our closest allies question our motives for our prolonged stay in this quarantined zone, and we cannot stall for much longer.

“Allowing you the maximum length of time possible to return to Earth, and to carry out your investigation, we calculate that you should have one fulI Earth year. Ahja, my friend, I sincerely hope that this is enough time for you to accomplish the impossible. And think of the advantage that we would have if you were to return with the knowledge to erase a man’s memory as skillfully as it was done to you!”

They circled in back of him, sniffed at the trail that he had left and barked hysterically at Ahja, who waved his hands ineffectively at them. One small, black and white dog sported a network of healing wounds on his shoulders and back, and it was obviously much more aggressive than the rest as it snapped at his ankles. The other dogs rapidly followed their leader’s example. Anxiously, Ahja watched as the pack ran circles around him as they displayed their chipped, stained fangs and as they took turns in trying to sink those fangs into his legs.

It didn’t take too long for anger to displace fear, and Ahja struck back at the pack of mongrols. Careful not to lose his precarious balance, Ahja managed to kick the pack’s leader in the mouth. The dog blinked his large, yellowish eyes at Ahja in an unmistakable expression of surprise. It growled, and took a menacing step towards the man, but when Ahja shouted and raised his fist wildly in the air, the animal backed off very quickly. With its tail pressed firmly against its hollowed out stomach, the leader of the pack retreated down the steep path with dozens of reddish rocks rolling after him in the dust. Taking a hint from their leader’s retreat, the others followed suit.

Suddenly, Ahja felt something else brush by him; he was relieved to see that it was not yet another dog that attacked him. A thin, barefoot child, who wore bright, tattered clothing that was much too large for her delicate frame, ran past him effortlessly. Her sudden appearance amazed Ahja, but the fact that she appeared to be unimpeded by the sharp rocks or the steepness of the descent amazed him even more. The child’s movements were as graceful, and as sure as if she strolled on the smoothest, most level of surfaces.

Abruptly, the tawny‑haired child stopped, turned and smiled at Ahja. She waved her tiny hand urging him to follow her, but without waiting for him, she ran ahead. Her waist long hair streamed out behind her, and her deeply tanned arms and legs flashed honey gold in the hot afternoon sun.

She ran towards the small cluster of houses; Ahja assumed that she would stop there, but she didn’t. It was then that Ahja realized that the “road” turned sharply to the right; there it narrowed almost immediately into a barely discernible hard clay path. She skipped along the path without waiting for Ahja, who had stopped to wipe the dripping sweat from his face and to catch his breath.

The tropical heat hung around his head along with dozens of buzzing, humming mosquitos. Ahja slapped at his face and bare arms several times before he decided that the effort was futile. He shrugged his shoulders, the only thing to do was to keep moving. Ahja looked up to see where the girl had gone, and he noticed a small structure at the end of the path about forty‑five feet ahead. It was almost completely covered by shrubbery, and it was dwarfted by the sides of the mountain that soared above it.

The shack seemed to lean against the side of the rugged mountain as if it could no longer bear the strain of standing on its own. It was made of rough planks of unpainted wood that were badly splintered, and rotting in many places. There was nothing straight or level about the place, and it was as if some giant being had crunched it out of shape in a powerful hand before tossing it carelessly onto the hard clay ground. Once again Ahja doubted that he would find Miriam there, not in that awful shack, but he had traveled thousands of miles to find her, and he wouldn’t turn back.

Ahja followed the girl as she squeezed past a narrow space between the shack and the mountain’s side. He found himself in front of the shack’s entrance. As much as he needed to find her again, Ahja hoped that it had been a mistake, that the woman for whom he searched was not there.

 Justin really never recovered fully from the accident at the marina. It was true that he was recovered physically, but emotionally, he appeared to have been damaged past the point of repair. The loss of the child must have pushed him past some ill‑defined boundry, and he deteriorated into a distorted, grotesque version of his former self. Day by day, he grew more and more sullen and morose until his face gradually acquired the deeply etched lines that revealed the bitterness, the hostility and the resentfulness that tore him apart. Miriam never stopped trying to reach through to him until the day that he walked out of the house and disappeared.

Ahja gave Miriam all of the aid and comfort that he could, the months of waiting, however, took their toll upon her, and he was not able to dissuade her from her decision to leave as well. She sold the few things that she had, and moved back to Puerto Rico as if she could run away from the memory of all of the terrible things that had happened to her. All of those events had taken place years ago, and now as he stood in front of the shack, Ahja experienced a sense of guilt, the years had been good to him, in contrast, and he should have insisted she accept his help.

Ahja hesitated at the door to the shack; he was unsure if he should wait there, or go inside. As he tried to decide what to do, the little girl reappeared at the door. She smiled shyly at him, and without speaking ran back in the direction of the ramshackle community. Ahja watched her run, and when he looked back at the doorway, he saw Miriam standing there.

She laughed with delight and surprise as she extended her hands out to him in welcome. As always, whenever he saw her, Ahja gasped with pleasure; Miriam was as beautiful as he had remembered. There was also a glow of serenity that seemed to radiate from her that Ahja had never noticed before.

With the joyous abandon of two old friends who had not seen each other for years, they hugged, kissed and held onto each other as if to reassure themselves that they were really finally together once again.

“Let’s get out of the sun,” she said as she pulled him into the dark interior of the shack.

The silvery musical tones of her voice swept over him instantly, catching him off guard. He fought off the serene effect of those sounds to regain his composure. It was difficult, he had forgotten just how difficult it was.

Miriam was a great deal thinner, and her hair seemed to have been hacked away; it was short and curly. Gone were the cascading tangles of curls, whose shimmering copper color had never ceased to fascinate him. He mourned the loss of those curls, but then he noticed how much larger, and hypnotic her eyes seemed to be.

The inside of the shack surprised him, although it shouldn’t have. In fact, he should’ve expected what he found. The walls and the floor were made of the same rough, unfinished lumber as was the outside. In many places, daylight shone in brightly through the spaces in the boards, but the fairly large room, which served as the living, dining and kitchen was thoroughly immaculate, even comfortable. A tiny room to the right held the bed, which was carefully made up with a quilt and several decorative pillows. The few pieces of furniture were marred and worn, but they displayed signs of loving care and daily attention. Miriam had made everything as perfect as it could be made, Ahja noted; it was a universal, Rizorian trait.

 The two friends spent most of the afternoon catching up on ten years of back news as they sipped the dark, rich coffee that she had brewed. Gradually, the bright sunlight withdrew, and evening seeped in through the cracks in the wall boards. When she noticed how dark it had become, Miriam paused in the middle of a sentence to light the only lamp in the room.

Ahja watched her silently, transfixed; her hair had captured the glow of the yellowish, bare light bulb, and it shimmered. He couldn’t help but notice that her tanned copper‑colored skin grew luminous as if it harbored a light source of its own. Suddenly, Ahja was aware of the shadows in the shack that seemed to have come to life themselves as they slid languerously and seductively along the bare walls. A restless, uncomfortable feeling took hold of him, and he stood, stretched and walked to the door to watch the pale, rosy colors drain from the sky.

“Come on, Ahja,” Miriam said, and the brightness in her voice did more to light up the room than the feeble electric light. “We’ve been sitting for too long. Let’s go for a walk; now that the sun is down, the evening breeze has picked up. You’ll find it much cooler than what it was when you arrived. Later, we’ll see about dinner.”

Miriam took his hand, pulled him out of the shack and led him onto a footpath, which led away from the ugliness and the poverty of that mountain community on the gravel path, and into ebbing heat of the forest. The breathless hush of the early evening yielded to the myriad chirping sounds of the night, which was highlighted by the tiny, brilliant flashes of the fire‑flies. Those unusual insects hung from the branches of the trees, and it seemed that someone had hung hundreds of decorative lights. Ahja watched the cool, shimmering blue‑green lights drift to the ground, and then seemingly float up to the branches again in an endless carrousel of light. A few of the more sedate fire‑flies lingered along the footpath to light up the way.

 Still trembling with the exertion of his struggle, Ahja felt Miriam touch his shoulder, and he was back in the soft pulating heat of the darkness. He listened to the comfortable, familiar rhythm of her breathing, and sensed the warm closeness of her body. Miriam radiated a sense of tranquility that soothed and banished the Tragian, primal nightfear that had almost claimed Ahja for its own. Slowly, the over‑stiff muscles in his body relaxed.

Miriam knew that something more than the old nightfear troubled her friend. In vain, she peered through the darkness for some clue hidden in his expression, and failing in that attempt, she had to resist the almost overpowering urge to reach into his mind and extract the information for herself. Years ago, she had promised never to enter his mind again without his knowledge and consent. She had never violated that vow; it was the basis of their friendship, which she valued too highly to endanger.

The minutes plodded by, the silence became oppressive, and the strain of Ahja’s silence was almost too terrible to bear. He had come to speak to her about something important, of that one fact she was certain.

“What is it, Ahja?” she asked, no longer able to tolerate the silence between them.

 Knowing that he could put it off no longer, Ahja took her hands in his and squeezed them gently. “No,” he said. “it isn’t the Rizorians. It’s the Federation‑”

“The Federation?”

“Yes, Miriam, they’ve come back for me!”

“How is that possible? Didn’t they leave ten years ago?”

“I’m not sure. Time is different in space, perhaps they never left at all. While I’ve lived and aged ten years, it’s possible that nothing more than a few hours has passed for them.”

“I don’t understand any of it,” she said.

“Neither do I,” he admitted, “I was never too interested in that field.”

“Well, how did they find you?”

“They haven’t found me, yet,” he replied, and knowing that she waited for an explanation, he proceeded to tell her about the strange radio and television disturbances that had plagued Earth’s commercial transmissions during the past year. Those disturbances had been blamed on sun spots, and on solar flares, but Ahja the Master Translator recognized the pattern of color and musical tones as the private code used to summon him to the Lord Chairman, Minje. The message from space contained the coordinates for the differences in Earth time, and the time on the ship that orbited the planet. It was clear to Ahja that the hand of the Lord Chairman had directed all of the careful planning.

“I don’t understand you at all,” she said as she pulled away from him impatiently. “They put you into a situation where the chances of your survival were totally against you. They lied to you, and they kept things from you that they had no right to keep, yet you sound happy and proud that they’ve gone to so much trouble for your sake. Have you forgotten what they did? How can you ever trust them again?”

“Perhaps you are right, Miriam, perhaps I can’t and shouldn’t trust them.” As he spoke, the green and brown colors in his eyes intensified and faded as he stumbled through an entire spectrum of emotions that he struggled to control. ”But, Miriam, please remember that Trag is my home, and they are my people. I’ve spent my entire adult life in the service of the Federation, and the habit is too strong to break. I have to go home, if I can. I shall go home!”

Miriam turned her back to him. Spread out in the darkness, the small town of Cayey defended its position against the darkness by turning on its lights proudly. Miriam studied the familiar pattern of colors and lights intently.

“Why does the thought of going home trouble you at all, Ahja? You should be happy.”

“I am happy! But there is one important consideration, Miriam, a very serious one that involves you.”

“Yes, well, what is it? Ahja, please get to the point!”

Ahja took a deep breath, and the words spilled out. “The problem is,” he said, “the debriefer probe.” Ahja turned and started to walk back in the direction of the shack without waiting to see if she followed.

As he explained it, the debriefer was a sleek and shiny cap, which would be placed on his head when he returned to the ship. The probe would extract from his mind every second of his experiences on the planet surface. It would do this efficiently and ruthlessly, and nothing could be kept hidden from the probe, nothing.

“I still don’t understand, Ahja. What is your problem?”

“You’re the problem, Miriam!” The words rushed out of him, and they sounded much harsher than what he had planned. “Don’t you see? The probe will force me to betray you. It will reveal the fact that you did not die at the hands of the Purification Squad. In all certainty the Rizorians will come back for you!”

Now,Miriam understood, and she wept silently for all of the pain that she had caused her friend. More than anything, she knew, Ahja wanted to return to Trag, but not at the expense of her life.

Unaware of her own turmoil, Ahja continued to speak. As far as he could see, there were just two alternatives to his dilemma. The first was simply not to show up at the rendezvous point. Minje would then logically assume that he had not survived the perils of the planet surface. The first alternative would forever eliminate any chance that he had of returning to Trag, and Ahja wasn’t sure that he could make that sacrifice.

There was just one other solution to the problem, which was why he had come to speak with her. Ahja needed Miriam in order to make his plan a workable one, but when he explained what it entailed, Miriam objected vigorously.

“You must be insane to propose an idea such as that one.”

“Not insane, Miriam, desperate.”

She laughed nervously, but when she received no response from him, a sudden sinking, chilling sensation took hold of her. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, Miriam, I am. It’s the only way.”

“But, Ahja, I can’t do what you ask, and if I could do it, I just wouldn’t.”

“You can, Miriam, I know that you can. You must do this thing for me, for both of us. Please!” Ahja put his arm around her shoulders. “I need you, Miriam. Please, help me go home!”

Miriam pushed his arm away from her in the same instant that she refused his plea. “I want to help you, Ahja, I owe that much to you, and even more, but your whole idea is crazy. How can you ask me to enter your mind to destroy memories? You must know that I don’t have that kind of skill! What if something were to go wrong? What if I turn you into some kind of a zombie?” Miriam shuddered.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You’ve spent a great deal of time perusing through my thoughts and memories for your amusement,” he said bitterly. “Why is it that all of a sudden you can’t do what I ask?”

 ”That was a long time ago, Ahja, and it was a stupid thing to have done. At that time I didn’t understand the damage that I could’ve done to you, to your mind. Anyhow,” she added, as if to excuse her past indiscretions, “even then I only shared thoughts and memories with you. I never tampered with them in any way.”

Ahja stopped walking, he turned to look at her and he cupped her face in his hands. They stood in a small clearing that was brightly illuminated with the light of the nearly full moon. He tried to look deeply into her eyes, but at that point, the moonlight proved to be an inadequate spotlight. He could only guess as to the expression on her face.

“I’m begging you, Miriam, please do this one thing for me. It’s all that I’ve ever asked of you. Now that I have this chance to go home, I realize that no sacrifice is too great. I thought that I could make myself happy here, but that was before. I would rather die than to let this opportunity slip by me. I want to go home, and this is the only way that I can do so without putting you into danger once again.”

Miriam started to object, but Ahja pushed ahead with another argument of his own.

“Since I won’t have any need for the wealth that I’ve managed to accumulate here, I’ll leave everything to you. Think of it! It’s your chance to get back on your feet again, a new start, a chance to get away from here.”

“Oh, Ahja, you don’t have to bribe me. I thought that we were beyond that.”

“I wasn’t trying to bribe you, Miriam,‑”

“Well, just so that you understand how I feel, Ahja. Anyhow, I wouldn’t leave here no matter how much money I had.”

“And why not?”

“I couldn’t leave the children.”

“Make sense, Miriam! What children?”

“The children who live on this mountain. They are very special children, and they mean a great deal to me. We spend a great deal of time together and . . .”

“And?”

“I teach them songs, help them with their homework and . . .”

“And what for heaven’s sake?”

“Nothing. Well, just children’s things, you know, just children’s things.”

Miriam pushed herself away from Ahja, and she walked rapidly away from him. Ahja tried to keep up with her, but her strong, well conditioned body kept her ahead of him. In just minutes, he had lost sight of her in the darkness.

Miriam waited for him at the entrance to the shack. He strolled over to her and faced her silently, yet she seemed not to see him at all. Was there nothing that he could say to make her change her mind? Ahja thought of new arguments, and new ways in which to present them, but he also noticed that the expression on Miriam’s face was blank, and that the pose of her body was stiff and unnatural. Just as he was about to turn away from her, the barrier that she had strung up between the two of them was gone.

“How much time do we have before you leave?”

“Two months,” he replied, and a rush of hope dispersed the feelings of desperation that only seconds ago had sickened him.

“After all that you’ve done for me, and all that you’ve suffered, Ahja, I can’t refuse you, no matter how insane it may seem,” Miriam sighed as she sat on the splintered step of the shack entrance. “I don’t think that I can do this thing that you ask, but I’ll try‑”

“Thank you‑”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she snapped. “And one more thing, you have to agree that the final decision is mine. If I decide that it can’t be done safely, I won’t do it, and I won’t let you argue the point.”

“It’s a deal,” he said as he sat down next to her and hugged her happily. “Now why don’t you pack a few things so that we can go somewhere more comfortable than this.”

Miriam jumped to her feet. “You keep talking about my leaving here when I’ve already made it very clear to you that I won’t go! If you want me to help you, you’ll have to stay here with me.”

“Here, in this place? Why can’t you leave, it’ll only be for a couple of months?”

“I will not leave the children!” she said through clenched teeth. “They wouldn’t understand. As far as they are concerned, two months might as well be forever. They’ll think that I had deserted them.”

“But, Miriam, they have parents, don’t they?”

“That’s beside the point. I will not leave them!” Miriam accented the meaning of her words by the pounding of her fist against the shack wall.

“Listen, Ahja, with my new found wealth, we’ll make this place comfortable, the town has everything that we’ll need and in one day’s worth of shopping you would be surprised what we can do. Besides, if I’m successful, you won’t retain any memory of this place. For you, it will never have existed. And, didn’t you just finish telling me that no sacrifice was too great? Was that just oratory, Master Ahja, or did you really mean it?”

Ahja listened to her laughter and to her good natured teasing, and he couldn’t help but feel that she used both the laughter and the light‑hearted words to conceal something. The thought made him uneasy, but he was so overjoyed that she had agreed to help him, that he pushed it to the recesses of his mind. He allowed himself the pleasure of listening to the sounds of her laughter, flowing through the sounds of the night, and then lingering and echoing in his mind—as a thousand Serilian crystal shells shattering in the endless, and empty stone canyons of Deslan.

Ahja moved into the shack with Miriam, hoping that when he left, it would be to begin the first leg of his journey home. The first days were awkward, uncomfortable. The close quarters and the lack of privacy all but convinced Ahja that this particular arrangement would not work.

 Late one afternoon, after the depressing summer heat had finally relaxed its hold, Miriam and Ahja sat down together as they had grown accustomed to do before starting a session. Ahja noticed that Miriam was unusually nervous, but when he asked her about it, she denied that anything was wrong. Her agitation was such, however, that Ahja toyed with the idea of postponing that session. He was about to make that suggestion when he felt a gentle movement in the outer perimeters of his awareness. Immediately, Ahja surrendered to the pleasure‑filled sensations that he had come to associate with the careful and delicate probings of Miriam’s mind. He opened himself up to her without reservation, and he moaned with pleasure as she flowed through the sensitive byways of his mind. It was a union with which no physical act could compare; joy, delight, pleasure, ecstasy and rapture awakened every atom of his being. The physical, and the mental vibrated in unison, and just when Ahja thought that he could no longer handle the amount of sensory stimulation, Miriam terminated the session. She pulled away from him in such a rush that for a few seconds he felt disoriented and helpless. By the time that he had managed to pull himself together, Miriam had disappeared. Ahja rushed after her and he found her at the shack. She stood with her back to the door, and she appeared to be intently studying the rusting nails that studded the rotting boards that constituted the flimsy protection, which was her house. There was something about the way that she stood that stopped Ahja from interrupting her meditation. His unasked questions seemed to pulsate through the heat and the stillness. When Miriam finally spoke, her usually deep, vibrant voice was quiet and subdued, as if she were afraid of rippling the placid surface of the late afternoon hush. She turned to face him.

“I know how to do it, Ahja,” she said as she stared into his eyes. “I can do it now, if you still want me to.”

The green and brown colors of his eyes ebbed and surged with excitement. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.” Miriam smiled, but Ahja couldn’t help but notice the shiny trails of tears that streaked her burnished skin.

“I’ve known how to do it for a week. At first, I held off by telling myself that I just wanted to be certain, but later I had to admit to myself that it was because I knew that I didn’t want you to go.”

“And now you’re ready for me to leave?”

“No, but I’ve come to understand that it is a choice that only you could make. I can’t hold you here when every minute cell in your body craves to go. I’ve felt your longing every single time that we’ve joined conscienceness.”

“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt before?” Ahja brushed away a plump, luminous tear that clung stubbornly to the side of her face.

“I didn’t know it myself,” she whispered, and she closed her eyes to better savor the light touch of his fingertips on the damp curve of her cheek …

“Miriam, how could we have been so stupid … all this time … we’ve wasted all…”

“I would never call the time that we spent together wasted, Ahja. Never.” Suddenly, she pushed his hand away from her face, “But if you are going to go, Ahja, I want you to go now. Every second that you stay is one more memory that has to be erased, and it makes the job more difficult and complicated.” Her voice had grown cold, and Ahja noted an efficient snap to it that seemed to him to be out of character.

Ahja put his arms around her and tried to prevent the distance between them from growing any greater, but Miriam pushed him away.

 ”Miriam, you’re wrong‑”

“Oh, God, Ahja, don’t you know that I’m the only person, in this world at least. to whom you cannot lie.”

“But I’m not lying, I‑” Ahja grew silent; he was confused, and he wasn’t sure what it was that he wanted.

Miriam contemplated his eyes; for the first time since she had known him, Ahja’s eyes glowed bright green, and she smiled.

“Goodbye, Ahja,” she whispered as her lips brushed lightly against his.

Ahja felt her enter his mind, and although he knew that it would be impossible to resist her, he tried. He clung to her body that trembled with concentration, and he entangled his fingers in her copper curls to force her to look at him, but there was no response. Miriam’s body was stiff, and her eyes stared through him. Ahja cried out in pain as her hold swelled in his unwilling mind.

“No, Miriam, not now, please!”

Ahja kissed her tear‑stained face, her unblinking copper eyes, the hollow of her long, graceful neck, her tightly pressed lips, but he could not stop the careful movements that penetrated him. He pushed her away from him, and he ran wildly. Perhaps, he thought, if they weren’t in close physical proximity, she wouldn’t be able to possess him. But as Ahja ran towards the main road, he sensed that she followed him, and he looked back. Miriam was no where to be seen; he had escaped, he thought as he ran to where he kept the car. just as his hand touched the Camaro’s door handle, he felt the gentle movement in his mind once again. He groaned, it’s impossible, she couldn’t reach him across that distance! If she could, what else had she accomplished about which he knew nothing? How strong had she become?

     The first thing that Ahja saw was Miriam’s frightened, beautiful face. Her uncombed, dark copper‑colored curls tumbling over her face were unable to hide the heavy, luminous tears that balanced on the tips of her eyelashes. She wore the same red turtle neck sweater, the faded blue jeans and the same white and black checkered jacket.

     Ahja felt her hands rubbing his, and his own fingers responded to her touch. “How is this possible?” he whispered. “Have we both crossed the great void at the same time and place? Is this the place beyond?”

     ”Try not to talk, Ahja,” she said as she squeezed his hand again. Her smile was radiant. “It’s all over, and we are both free to continue our lives in peace. That is truly the only important thing.”

     ”But how? This cannot be real,” he persisted. “I saw you die!”

     ”No, Ahja, you saw an image die. It was not me.”

     ”An image?” he asked blankly.

     ”You won’t rest until I explain, will you?”

     Ahja nodded, his eyes were wide open in astonishment.

     ”Well, then I’ll tell you,” she laughed. “in reality it was your idea. I thought of it when you asked me if I could send images as well as receive them. Suddenly the idea just appeared. I wasn’t sure that I could pull it off, but we were desperate, and you had given me this lecture about fighting back and all—”

     ”But what did you do? And how?”

     ”Let me tell my story my way.”

     ”Then tell it.”

     ”I knew that I couldn’t out‑run, or out‑fight them, so the only other alternative was to fool them.

     It was necessary for the Rizorians to believe they had accomplished their mission. If they thought that I was dead, they would leave Earth, and never come back. Then I thought of the idea to project an image into their minds. When I was able to fool you with the image that I projected, I was fairly sure that my plan would work.”

     ”You experimented on me? When?”

     ”Back at the cottage, where we said our good‑byes. You spoke with the image, and it was the image that left. I never did.”

     ”But it was so real! I saw you die in their laser fire, and the Rizorian saw it as well.”

     ”I’ve learned a lot of things from your mind, Ahja. One of the most important things that I learned was what a death by laser looks like. I projected that image into each of your minds; each of you saw what you expected to see.”

     ”It’s too incredible to believe.”

     ”From what I’ve learned, it would’ve been a simple task for any Adept child.” Miriam smiled and patted his hand.

     ”But you spoke to me, kissed me,” he objected. His memory of that goodbye nagged at him. “How could it have been merely an illusion?”

     Miriam shrugged her shoulders. “Think of it as a different kind of communication. An illusion would suggest a falsehood, and I never intended that. No, Ahja, in the case of our goodbye, the image, or the projection of myself, merely communicated to you that which I wanted to express.”

     Ahja sighed; he had a feeling that he was about to lose the argument, which in itself was unimportant. The fact that he would never again be certain if that which he had witnessed was real or illusion bothered him deeply.

     ”Where are we now?” he asked in a deliberate attempt to change the subject of their conversation.

     ”We’re back at the cottage,” she replied. “After the Rizorians left, I went to the general store for help. I told them that I had witnessed a mugging. You should’ve seen how upset they were. No one has ever been mugged in Ocean Park prior to the summer season before,” she laughed, and it made Ahja feel good to hear her.

     ”The only thing that worried me was that they would use that laser ray-gun thing on you. I don’t know what I would have done if they had attempted it. Also, I wasn’t sure how many suggestions I could sneak into their minds before they became suspicious. I’m glad that it’s all over.”

     ”Me, too,” he agreed. “if they had been on friendlier terms with me, they would have used the laser in order to prepare me for crossing the great void. For Rizorians, death without purification is a terrible thing.”

     ”You would have been fried to a crisp, no doubt,” Miriam said with a no nonsense tone in her voice. “You’re not in very good shape now, but with some rest and care, I’m sure that you’ll recover. “

     ”Are you sure that they’re gone?” he asked as he tried to mask the apprehension in his voice.

     ”Oh, yes, I’m positive. I watched them get into their boat, and to be really sure, I followed them with my mind for as far as I could. They have a few days of travel ahead of them before they reach their rendezvous point, and are able to leave Earth. Since they are under the impression that I’m dead, they have no reason for ever coming back.”

     ”They’re going home, I guess,” Ahja said wistfully as he squinted at the brilliant blue sky outside the cottage window.

     ”Oh, Ahja, I’m so sorry. I know how much your home means to you. I feel guilty that because you helped me, you’ve lost your means to get home.”

     ”It wasn’t all your fault, Miriam, in fact none of it was your fault. We’re both victims of circumstance. Anyhow, I have a feeling that the Rizorians would’ve killed me, no matter what I did.”

     ”I wish that I could have helped you get to your Trag.”

     ”You mean that there is actually something that your Adept power can’t accomplish?” he asked good naturedly, but there was an unmistakable twinge of bitterness in his voice.

     ”There are many things that I can’t do,” Miriam ignored the bitterness, and smiled at him warmly. Ahja’s mood improved in the bright warmth of that smile.

     ”I can help you to get well,” she said, “and it has nothing to do with Adept ability. Good old fashioned Earth‑style home nursing will take care of all that ails you, and when Justin comes home, the two of you will get along just fine. You’re going to stay with us, you know, until you’re healthy, have a means of earning a livelihood, and can fend for yourself on this world.”

     ”Is Justin out of the coma yet?

“No. Not yet, but the doctor thinks that Justin will make it, and that he’ll be fine.”

     ”I’m so happy for you, Miriam.” Ahja smiled broadly although it hurt his bandaged face to do so. He enjoyed watching her radiant face and warm smile, and although he felt a great deal of warmth in that smile, something troubled him. The germ of an unshakable idea gnawed at him although he pushed it away from his mind over and over again.

     All afternoon she handled everything. Two men from the mainland came, and she filed a report with them on the alleged mugging. She made arrangements for the water taxi to pick them up the following afternoon, and she tidied up the cottage, humming pretty songs as she worked through the day.

     Ahja had tried to escape the thought by thinking of other things, or by sleeping, but nothing seemed to work. By late afternoon, the thought had grown in strength, to the point that it crowded out everything else from his mind. Despite the consequences, the thought matured and ripened; he would have to speak to her about it.

     “Miriam,” he said as she served him his dinner, “there’s something that we have to talk about.”

     ”Go ahead, I’m listening, what’s on your mind?”

     ”Miriam, there’s always the possibility that the Rizorians might come back,” he said as he tried to hide his anxiety. “What if they run a routine scan on the planet, and discover you’re still alive?”

     ”Why should they do such a thing? Are you trying to scare me?”

     ”You know that’s not true. I’m just presenting a possibility. You have to admit that it could happen‑”

     Miriam’s face darkened and her madonna‑like features became distorted by frustration and rage. Ahja reached for her hand to calm her. Her fingers wrapped themselves around his with such strength that it surprised him.

     His bed began to shake, and he thought that he saw the walls of the cottage start to tremble. Suddenly, everything around him was moving, doors slammed, windows rattled and the bed in which they sat shook violently.

     ”Miriam!” he cried as he tried to free himself from the increasing pressure of her steel‑like grasp. “Miriam, stop it!”

     Hair brushes, combs, mirrors and magazines flew around in the room with increasing velocity; they threatened to become deadly projectiles. Ahja felt himself start to tremble as well. He couldn’t help himself as his shaking grew increasingly stronger and more violent.

     ”Miriam, you’ll kill me if you don’t stop!”

     After a final series of loud crashes, everything grew still, and Ahja fell back against the bed. Miriam still held onto his hand, but she had relaxed her grip. All of the gentle softness had been erased from her face, and when she spoke, the musical tones were absent from her voice. She spoke with such a cold determination that she frightened Ahja more than the phenomenon that he had just observed.

     ”If they come back, Ahja, they won’t find me as helpless as before. I have the knowledge now. In no time I’ll be stronger than anyone or anything they might have ever encountered. In fact, it would be better for them if they never come back. I can promise you that they will regret another run in with me!”

     ”Miriam, calm yourself. It was just a thought. I was just posing a hypothetical question. That was no reason to upset yourself like that. You have to think about your baby, you know.”

 Miriam nodded her head, sighed and rubbed her belly gently. “You’re right, Ahja. I must keep my baby safe.”

     ”That kind of stress can’t be good for it.”

 ”The baby is not an it, Ahja. I carry a daughter.”

“Really!  Well, then congratulations. A daughter, who will be as beautiful as her mother.”

 Miriam smiled. Ahja watched her face as her expression become soft and her eyes acquired a dreamy expression.

     ”Besides,” he said, “I really think that you are right; they’ll never return to Earth because they have no cause now. You’re safe, Miriam, you’re safe, and your daughter is safe.”

     Ahja watched Miriam’s face regain its serene madonna‑like expression.  The master translator had learned something very important just now. Never get Miriam angry. Ahja shifted uneasily in the bed.