[Tuesday 8:30 AM – Somewhere in California]

Lynne and Tonya stepped into the dirty cargo elevator at the back of the warehouse. The metal mesh walls had been covered with plywood that had been damaged so badly that the heavily damaged mesh behind was showing.

“Are we sure this elevator is safe?” Tonya asked.

“Don’t worry,” the construction worker at the controls said, “you’re not going far.” He inserted a key and turned a knob and the elevator went down exactly eight feet.

Another worker lifted the mesh door and pushed open a hatch. Lynne and Tonya entered the hatch and started descending a set of steep concrete stairs.

“Well...” Tonya said looking back as the hatch was closed. “That was unexpected.”

“The elevator going down when there is no basement?” Lynne asked.

“No, that it only went down that little. Usually they go much farther down,” she chuckled.

“This wasn’t built by TEMPLAR. In fact it was built by Mexican smugglers for drugs and human trafficking. It was seized by authorities and listed as filled with concrete. TEMPLAR took it and expanded it a bit,” Lynne explained.

“I don’t remember a report on this,” Tonya said.

“You wouldn’t. The Central American division was in charge. I remember it only because it was mentioned in a division leaders’ meeting a few years back. To be honest, I had completely forgotten about it until the message in the limo.”

Lynne opened a heavy metal door to enter a large rectangular room walled with steel. Only one other door, at the far wall, was visible. Sentries were stationed at each corner of the room.

“Ms. Stone,” an obese man with a waxed mustache said in thickly accented English.

“Oscar,” Lynne replied, taking a file folder he held in his outstretched hand.

In the middle of the room, sat a half-dozen people. They all seemed to be in their mid-twenties.

As Lynne approached, a woman stood up. "How dare you do this to us?" she declared, livid with indignation.

"I didn't," Lynne said, skimming the file without bothering to look up at the woman. "The High Council did."

The woman blanched, “My father --”

“Can do nothing for you,” Lynne interrupted, shutting the file. “You are to be executed this time.”

“You can’t!” she screamed, “I am an American citizen. My father is a billionaire! I have rights-- I’ll expose this whole organization at trial!”

Lynne yawned, “Your trial is over. The fact that you are an American is the only reason you’ve lived this long. Had you been in any other part of the world, you’d have been executed for your crimes long ago.”

“CRIMES!” she screeched, “Is it a crime to desire that we be treated as equals on our own planet? Is it a crime to expose discrimination against those of Erokan heritage? Is it a crime to bring to light the injustice that we face?”

“Yes, it is,” Lynne said flatly, “Your actions have jeopardized over a billion lives. Do you have any idea the bloodshed that would occur if the world at large knew about satyrs, dragons, theriantropes, and the other races that live among them? Most people on this planet think of them as monsters. Monsters that were either eradicated thousands of years ago or only existed as myths. You were born to a TEMPLAR family. All of you were. None of you show any outward signs of your demi-human blood, and being from wealthy families, you have never faced a day of discrimination in your privileged lives.”

“We speak for our brothers and sisters who can’t or who are too afraid to themselves!” she said proudly.

“And do you know why they are too afraid?” Lynne asked. “They know what will happen. Life is not fair. It never has been and it never will be. Except for an accident of fate, we’d all be still wearing furs and foraging for food every day while trying not to become the next meal for another predator ourselves. Is it fair that we live in a safe, technological world while other species, like birds and fish, still live that way? Is that fair?”

Lynne pushed the pompous woman into the chair behind her, “You’ve broken the first law of TEMPLAR, of all the demi-human peoples. And you’ve done it numerous times. The High Council now believes that you’ve used up all of your chances. I am the last outstanding vote, the last one with veto power, the last one who can save your lives.”

“We just want equality for all!” she yelled.

“Equality for all can only happen at the muzzle of a gun. And all that gets everyone is universal misery,” Lynne said walking slowly away from the six. Then she turned, “Except for those behind the guns.”

“Capitalist bullshit,” the girl spat.

“I vote with the majority,” Lynne said. “No veto this time. I was the sole holdout the last time.”

Lynne looked at Oscar, “Since our band of activists are so into eco-terrorism … didn’t they attack some oil rigs off of Venezuela last year?”

Oscar nodded.

“Hmmm. They’re going to do it again. This time there’s going to be an accident on their chartered boat. Let’s be good to the fish and send them some treats.”

Lynne spun on her heels and headed toward the door. “Coming, Tonya?”

[Tuesday 03:45 PM – USSTRATCOM]

William groggily opened his eye to hear a loud banging on the door to the room. He looked at the watch on his wrist to see that he had been sleeping for six hours.

“DAMN!” he said, bolting upright and heading to the door.

“Why didn’t someone wake me up --” he asked angrily, thinking that it was an enlisted soldier at the door, but finding Frank there instead.

“We decided that all of us needed to get at least five hours unless something came up. We all got six. In any case, two of your requested team members are here.”

“Two?” William asked as they walked down the hallway.

“You’re only getting two. The one from Tanlyn and the other from Indiana. The Coasties all refused,” Frank said.

“Oh well, I guess I’ll deal with the one’s I have,” William stated.

“I thought you said one was a wiz-kid. She’s a damned sight older than any kid I know,” Frank said.

“She? Older? What?” William asked.

“You’ll see for yourself. We’re here,” Frank said opening the door.

William stepped in to see an elderly man in a wheelchair, and a pregnant woman of about forty sitting at the conference table.

“Professor DuMorr! Thanks for coming,” William said walking over to shake the man’s hand.

“No problem, Willy,” the man said. “I couldn’t refuse a plea for help from my favoritest student.”

“Willy?” Frank asked wondering why William wasn’t throwing a fit.

William shot him a look that said ‘Don’t ask!’

“And you must be Grace,” William said extending his hand to her. “To be honest, I expected --”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“A young boy, maybe 20-ish, scruffy beard, acne, coke bottle glasses, and buck teeth?” she completed, her eyes hard.

William thought better of answering. He had heard that tone in Tonya’s voice in the past and reacting to it in any fashion usually didn’t end well.

“Well, then,” Frank said smoothly, backing toward the door. “I’ll leave you smart people to do your thing.”

William turned his back on his guests and mouthed “You damned chicken!” to Frank, who mouthed back, “cluck cluck” as he pulled the door closed so the guests couldn’t see it.

“Well then,” William said, turning back to his guests, “first, I’m obligated to notify you both that what you will see and hear is classified top secret and cannot be discussed outside of authorized personnel and facilities. Is this acceptable?”

Both answered affirmatively.

Grace looked around the room meaningfully. “Video or audio recording?”

“Not in these rooms,” William answered, “In the control and technical rooms there is.”

Grace nodded. “Does this have to to with the recent Coronal Mass Ejections?” she asked bluntly.

“It does,” William answered, “This is classified due to the methods used to gather the information that you will be working with.”

“I see. You’re wondering if the CMEs and the unusual weather patterns over parts of the planet are correlated, and if so, why,” Grace said, sitting back down.

William’s mouth dropped open.

“They are. According to my theory, you can expect three more CMEs over the next few days and then they will subside,” Grace said coolly.

“And you know this... how?” Professor DuMorr asked.

Grace looked at the old man and her eyes softened. “Well, I don’t know for certain. But I have a very good...”

The two men stared at her expectantly.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Let’s just say female intuition.”

“Young lady,” DuMorr cleared his throat, “Feminine intuition is a wonderful thing, but certainly doesn’t qualify as a scientifically accepted method.”

Grace blushed furiously and William could tell that there was more that she wanted to say, yet something was holding her back.

“Why don’t we take a-- err-- trip down the hallway to another room? Where you both can take a look at some material that may help with coming up with a working hypothesis,” William stumbled over the beginning of the sentence, catching himself a moment before he had used the word ‘walk’ instead of ‘trip’.

“Yes. I think that would be helpful,” Professor DuMorr agreed, “After you, my dear,” he said, offering Grace the opportunity to exit the room first.

As they entered the room, DuMorr exclaimed, “This is extraordinary!” looking at the images of the distortions in the Sun. “And you’re sure that these are linear?” He asked, lifting the printed images from the table to examine them more closely.

“No. We’re not sure that they’re linear, only that they seem to be constantly Earth facing,” William answered.

“Would it be possible to get a station with star charts?” DuMorr asked.

“Star charts? How are those going to help us determine what these are?” William asked.

“Oh? They won’t. However, I may be able to determine where they originate. I’m an astronomer, not an astrophysicist. But maybe I can determine where the distortion is coming from. This is a once in a lifetime chance. If things go right, then it will be at least another 1800 years before the conditions are right for this to happen again, and if they don’t, probably another couple hundred. And even then, I doubt we’ll have this opportunity again.”

William looked at Grace, who nodded in agreement.

“Okay. Follow me, Professor, and I’ll see what we can do for you. Would you like to accompany us, Grace?” William asked.

“No. I want to study the materials here in more detail. Thanks anyway,” she answered from her chair.

DuMorr used his wheelchair to keep the door from closing. “Grace,” he said, craning his neck back to talk into the room. “Remember that this is more than a religious occurrence. We have a chance to perform some really important science here. Your parents would be devastated if they knew that they were missing out on this.”

A few minutes later, William returned. “They found a station for him.”

“You realize that he isn’t paralyzed,” Grace said.

“Of course. He uses the chair to hide his race,” William responded. “Do you dislike him?”

“Not at all. Satyrs are not very receptive to ideas from those with different beliefs, and that irritates me,” she explained, “Dr. DuMorr and my father often played ‘thought games’ together. Each challenging the other with increasingly outrageous ideas.”

"It seemed like you wanted to elaborate on your theory earlier. Am I right?" he asked.

"I was careless. Your unintentional affront caused me to blurt things out of pique. When I said my theory was from feminine intuition, I wasn't lying. I'm not capable of that. But that was only partially true. My theory is actually based more on religion than intuition. That's what Dr. DuMorr was referencing as he left."

“Some argue that they’re the same,” William assured her. “Though I’ve never heard of any religion that mentions holes in the Sun.”

Grace laughed lightly at that. “So literal. I think that Mark would like you.”

“Mark?” William asked.

“My husband. He’s constitutionally inclined to take everything at face value. Metaphors and Mark do not get along at all,” she chuckled.

“I don’t think I’m that bad,” William defended himself.

“In any case, if my theory is correct, these ‘distortions’ are actually Einstein-Rosen anomalies,” she explained through a slight chuckle.

“But if that’s the case, wouldn’t those be so infinitely small that we’d never detect them?” he asked.

“Normally, they would not be detectable at all.” She had taken on the posture of someone used to giving lectures, and William could tell instantly that she was a teacher. Fearing the worst, he sat in a nearby chair.

“However,” she continued not indicating that his actions fazed her in the slightest, “I do not think this is a normal case. Not by a long shot. Based on the materials that you have provided here, I am convinced that the Renewal is the reason for all of the events of the last few days.”

“Renewal?” William asked, being jolted back from his instinctive trance during lectures.

Grace stared at him in disbelief. “You are a ranking member of TEMPLAR and you do not know what the ‘Renewal’ is?”

“Of course I know what it is,” he snapped, “My Grandparents were part of the last one. That’s not what I was asking. I fail to see how these solar distortions, messed up weather patterns, and the Renewal are related.”

Grace sighed. “I need a cigarette,” she mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation.

“Should you do that in your condition?” William asked.

Grace glared at him. “I was speaking symbolically, I have been smoke free for coming up on two years now. That does not mean that I do not still crave one sometimes.” Leaving out the ‘especially when dealing with idiots’ that she was thinking.

She walked over to the whiteboard on the far wall and quickly drew out a rough approximation of the Earth and the Sun with blue and red markers. On the Earth, she distorted the continents so that they were all mostly visible.

“Excuse the liberties with scale,” she said picking up a purple marker and quickly drawing circles where the adverse weather had been reported. “According to belief, each continent on Earth – or Terra Gaia as some refer to it – has a corresponding continent on Terra Eroka. Since no one has ever scientifically verified the structure of Eroka, we will just assume that it is correct.”

“There are seven continents on Earth, but there are only six distortions and six weather abnormalities,” William pointed out, “Doesn’t that invalidate your theory?”

“Not at all,” Grace responded. “It is indeed true that Antarctica is a continent. However, due to its unique situation, it is not normally part of the process. There are a number of reasons why we think this is so, but to simplify, I’ll just use the religious one. According to Erokan belief, the Chosen are selected from newly matured members of both planets.”

“I did know that,” William commented dryly.

“Just making sure,” she responded. “Anyway, since there are no 18 year old inhabitants of Antarctica, that rules out a member from there. The real scientific reason is much more complex, obviously, but that alone explains it for our purposes here. So leaving out Antarctica we have six.”

“But there is already one set of Chosen on Earth,” William mentioned, “My Grandparents.”

“Aha!” Grace smiled and pointed her fingers, gun-like, at William. “You are indeed correct. BUT! Did you know that your grandmother isn’t a true Chosen? It was actually her twin sister who was the Chosen, but through a bizarre – though scientifically explainable – sequence of events she became the Chosen when her sister died after the process had started but before being exposed to the --”

“Yes. Yes,” William said lazily waving his hand dismissing her story. “I’ve heard that tale more times growing up than I care to count. Unless it has something directly to do with this, please forego the retelling.”

Grace frowned at having her explanation interrupted. “It matters in that since she was not the intended human, nor was her dragon the intended target, the process did not ‘complete’ the last time. For all intents and purposes, it is as if the original process 200 years ago never happened, and since the whole group was terminated before they could cross over to Terra Eroka, the energy that should have been expended wasn’t. That leads to this iteration’s full on cycle.”

The look on William’s face told Grace that her explanation wasn’t fully convincing. “Not buying it?” she asked.

William shrugged. “I’m listening.”

She turned to the white board. “We have had two CME’s so far, and since those we have seen the weather patterns over Australia and Africa either dissipate or moderate greatly.” Grace used the red marker to draw X’s over the purple circles next to Australia and over Africa. “All completely without the accompanying expected environmental conditions necessary to cause such changes under normal circumstances.”

“That is true,” William conceded. “But weather patterns are particularly sketchy to base such a projection on.”

“If I am right, the next CME will cause another of the weather anomalies to suddenly change state,” Grace pronounced.

Her exuberance and charisma made William smile. “Let’s presume that I’m convinced that you are right. If so, which weather pattern are you predicting will that be.”

Grace’s expression turned panicked. “You are asking me to predict the weather AND which continent will be next?”

William nodded. “It is your theory.”

Grace contemplated the information that she had seen. “Based on what you have provided along with what I have gathered before… I would say that South America will be next, followed by Asia.”

“Going for the double play? Ballsy. Alright then, I’ll give you this: I won’t throw out your theory if you’re wrong about the locations. I admit that it’s intriguing, but my built in bias may be involved. But I’m going to need more than religious hoodoo-voodoo before I take any of this to the others. These people are not aware of the things we are, nor do we particularly want to expose those particular facts to them. That would be very bad on a great number of levels.”

Grace nodded. “I can provide you with hard scientific evidence, but it won’t be quick to explain nor easy to understand. I can guarantee that your friends out there would find it far above their heads.”

“They trust me. Make me understand it and everything will be alri--”

William was interrupted by the sound of sirens. He quickly picked up the phone on the table and dialed. “What is it?” he said into the handset.

As he returned the handset to the cradle, William looked up at Grace. “It seems we won’t have long to test your prognosticating skills. A new CME was just detected. Let’s go.”