While the rest of Guardian team filed into the main office, Alpha immediately made his way over to those people grouped together, kneeling in submission in front of a large counter.
“Please get up,” he urged softly. “It must be uncomfortable enough as it is without you having to do that. If you have any refreshments, I think we can resolve the situation over a nice hot drink…or whatever else you might have handy?”
As the dejected agents moved to comply, several heads turned toward one of the men who had remained slumped on the floor. Staring at the carpet, his pupils were dilated, his skin had assumed a sickly, waxy pallor, and his jaw wagged vacantly from side to side as if something was worrying his back teeth.
So that’s Gregory Harris, the section chief. The Grand Master’s probe delved through the outer layers of a troubled mentality and swiftly recognized the conflicting tides now in danger of red-lining: constraint and demand; self-consuming fury and emasculating helplessness; suppressed authority and enforced humiliation – and suddenly – an overwhelming weight that seemed to bludgeon its way into his awareness, before sinking like a hot spike toward his ability to function cognitively.
What the…? An embolism!
Diagnosing the onset of a stroke, Alpha issued a ringing summons for their specialist healer to attend him, and sent his own ultrasenses boring into the stricken man in a search for any weaknesses and chokepoints he could find.
Years spent nursing a bad diet, appalling sleeping habits and a tendency to push himself too hard, quickly became apparent. As did the hypertension Harris now suffered from. It was inevitable he’d become a walking time bomb waiting to go off.
Alpha didn’t have time to deliberate on the ravages such a lifestyle had wrought, for the rupture about to take place within Harris’ left middle cerebral artery would damage those nerves feeding his prefrontal cortex and Broca’s area. A skilled paramedic himself, Alpha simply froze Harris’ limbic system within the jacket of a hyperspatial matrix – thereby suspending his patient within a microsecond of actuality – giving him ample opportunity to confer with Charlie, a qualified doctor.
To those looking on, Harris appeared to have turned to stone while the two Guardians hunched over him with their eyes closed and their fingertips pressed to various parts of his body.
Seconds ticked slowly by, extending the silence into unbearable solitude. Eventually, Alpha stood, stretched, and walked across to join the rest of the mixed gathering on the other side of the room.
One of the men – Ryan Lee, from the information his thoughts yielded – was coming to the end of explaining Harris’ story to Bravo and Delta. “…until this damned initiative started. We’ve been under pressure to get results ever since, and Greg more than most, especially with the budget they dangled under his nose. And, well, with the way he is, it was only a matter of time until they pushed him into a heart attack.
“Ryan, isn’t it?” Bravo asked.
When he nodded, she continued. “Charlie will be busy for a few minutes yet, so why don’t you all try and relax and keep everyone busy? It really will make things go that little bit easier and...”
Alpha could see everything appeared to be well in hand. His squad was taking control, Cathy and Mike were endeavoring to capture as much detail as they could regarding the facility itself, and apart from the project’s chief, there had been no casualties.
Good, we’re ma –? The protest of metal and stone under stress moaned throughout the superstructure. Anxious eyes turned toward him. That’s a point!
Raising his hand to forestall a host of questions, Alpha opened his mind and made contact with Guardian Observation Station One, in geostationary orbit above the North Pole: Guys, if you’ve been following, this place isn’t as robust as we were led to believe. Can you send down a batch of mobile emitters to keep things tidy until we’re ready to extract?
Roger that, a disembodied voice confirmed.
Moments later, a dozen silver tubelike devices with foldout tripod legs appeared on the floor in front of him. He gave a command and Bravo and Delta commenced placing them around the extremities of the facility at strategic points. As the last one snapped into position, all twelve activated simultaneously. A deep thrum permeated the fabric of the floors and walls, creating a distinct impression of insects crawling across the skin.
Referring to it, Alpha declared, “Our efforts to get in here were more destructive than I anticipated, so we’ve had to ensure everything remains intact until it’s time for us to leave. That tingling sensation you felt was a reactive forcefield going up. It’s safe to throw a party now, if you want to.”
As he spoke, he scanned the Angel Project staff in their entirety, sifting through their identities and memories in an attempt to see how they were coping and who would be the most useful ones to get onside.
Professionals all, they seemed to be taking the change of circumstances in their stride. One – Brian Hooker – was more accepting than most, and the mere mention of a party had spurred him into being a more congenial host.
“Well, tea and coffee all round then,” he said with only a modicum of false bravado, “or we have something stronger…if you’d prefer?”
“What, Ovaltine?” Delta was up to her tricks again.
“Oooh, you’re really good. You caught me.” Brian raised his hands. “I admit it, I was gonna try and put you all to sleep with milky malty goodness before making my escape. Is it okay for me to use the mess room or do I need an escort?”
Plain to Alpha’s refined acuity, Delta’s farsight drilled into the rest area. “No problem,” she crooned, “in fact, I’ll help out, and you can give me the chocolate biscuits to take extra special care of.”
Brian studied her quizzically. She tapped the side of her head, grinning. “You can’t lie to me; I know you’ve got some. And you keep them in the refrigerator, too, just the way I like them.”
Shrugging his shoulders in resignation, Brian led her toward the kitchen and she began to regale him on the benefits of chilling anything containing her favorite food item.
Their banter seemed to ease the tension and Alpha found it most welcoming, as indeed was the news Charlie had just passed his way.
Thank God for that.
Spinning on the spot, he saw Charlie place a folded jacket beneath their sleeping patient’s head. Then he stood and dusted himself down. Alpha’s sudden movement drew everybody’s attention, and before he could prevent it, they were crowding around the fallen boss, and getting in the way of the camera team.
“Will he be alright?” Ryan wondered aloud.
“Yes Ryan, he will be,” Alpha assured him as he fell in alongside. “I’m a Master Class healer – amongst other things – but my colleague, Charlie, is a borderline specialist Grand Master. So Greg is in very good hands. He’s just initiated a cathartic nexus to siphon off the pressure, and as it reduces over the next few minutes, Charlie will repair the weakened veins and capillaries. He’ll need to sleep for a day or two once he’s home, but I’m assured there are absolutely no signs of signs of dysphasia, dysarthria or hemiplegia. Neither will there will any short-term side effects. Nevertheless, it’s important to give him some space for a while. I believe Greg’s office has a bed inside it?”
“Yes, it does,” Ryan confirmed. “If you’re thinking of putting him in there, is it okay if I sit with him? We’ve been buddies for some years now.”
“Of course. I can ask your colleague, Liz, to help. I understand she’s your counterpart?”
“Yes, although she hasn’t been briefed on our latest arrival yet, the little girl who came in over the weekend.”
“That shouldn’t cause any problems. We already have copies of the documents we need, so we can use those as a base plate to start with, and go over each guest’s record as they’re brought up from the holding area downstairs.”
“Okay then,” Ryan replied vaguely, his concern for his colleague clearly outweighing his surprise at how well the Guardians knew the layout of the facility.
Lost in thought, the CIA operative waited, unsure of what to do next, and Alpha had to tap him on the shoulder to alert him as Harris floated past their position, propelled along under the steady influence of telekinesis.
Charlie caught Ryan’s attention. “Not to pry, but I overheard what you’ve been saying. It will be good to have someone sit with Gregory. Let me get him comfy, and then I’ll usher everyone else out and make sure you two are left in peace, okay?”
“Yeah, thanks Doc,” Ryan mumbled, “much appreciated.”
He went to follow along, but Alpha caught him by the elbow. “Ryan, I’d be grateful if you would do something for me?”
“What’s that?”
“It might not seem like it at the moment, but tell Greg how lucky he was that we were actually here today. Even had we not paid you a visit, that stroke was an axe waiting to fall – maybe not for six months, maybe not for a year – but it would have got him in the end. His lifestyle is killing him. If you truly value your relationship, tell him to think about a career change or he won’t live to see his retirement. Trust me!”
“Oh, I trust you, believe me. I mean, you saved him when you didn’t have to. Many people wouldn’t have done it given the choice.”
And with that, Ryan entered the room, turned off the lights, closed the door, and sat next to his friend in the darkness.
Alpha watched the two men for several minutes until his presence was required back in the main office where Bravo had been arranging for the systematic release of the prisoners held in secure rooms a floor below. Copies of their files lay on the desk in front of her and she was discussing the first subject – Robin Johns – with Liz Watkins as Alpha strolled over to rejoin them.
“So he’s been on the streets for what, seven or eight years now?” Bravo asked.
“As far as we know,” Watkins admitted. “Records confirm him at Trinity Island School back in 2028, but after that, he must have dropped out.”
“Any family?”
“None to speak of. His mother, Ellen, was a single mom and an alcoholic. There were a string of abusive boyfriends, many of whom were less than cordial to Rob, so he was left to fend for himself most days. He had to wash, cook, clean, get to and from school. Sadly, it’s a common neglect pattern we see all too often. When he’d eventually had enough and dropped out and disappeared, she didn’t even know her precious little boy was gone.”
“And how did he come to notice?” Alpha inquired.
“Part of the initiative was to correlate out of the ordinary behavior, patterns and reports. We found a well fed, very childishly dressed, reclusive bum who had all sorts of stuff in an Aladdin’s Cave of a den, who simply didn’t get hassled by any of the other homeless strays. It stood out a mile. We don’t know for sure, but it looks like a combination of neglect, loneliness, having to survive on the streets and the emergence of his gifts tipped him over the edge.”
“So how did you get him in?”
“Big Macs mostly.”
“Sorry?” Alpha couldn’t hide his astonishment.
“Big Macs. Rob has quite a telekinetic punch, and had been reduced to using his talents to fend off anyone bothering him…or to get his necessities, like food, clothes, and toys. So when we brought him gifts and a burger instead, and offered him a place to stay, he just got up, sauntered past the Snoop Team and walked straight up to the unmarked – and supposedly covert – wagon out in the street, and got in. He was our first find, and has been with us over a month now.”
Bravo hid her exasperation well and telepathically vented on her commander: How in the blazes did we miss someone like him?
Don’t fret yourself, shit like this happens, Alpha replied: We’ll find out for sure when Charlie does an initial assay of Robin’s abilities, but don’t be surprised if we discover our boy has strong shielding capabilities. Think of what he’s been through. If he got into the habit of hiding away from others over the years, it stands to reason he would do the same subconsciously as his talents emerged.
Alpha then spoke out loud. “Right, let’s get the ball rolling, shall we? The quicker we get this done, the quicker we can get out of here.”
Bravo nodded and turned to Watkins. “This shouldn’t take long as we’re merely collating your initial assessment against the register of those in custody. We’ll wait until we get them back to one of our own facilities to give them a full rundown and medical. If you like, I’ll come with you to fetch Robin and make sure he stays in a good mood.”
As both women got up and began walking toward a specialized security airlock near the back of the office, Watkins ventured, “It’s a pity you don’t have a Big Mac to hand, he loves them. That would definitely help soften the blow of all these strange new faces.”
“Oh, I’ve got something much more distracting for him,” Bravo countered mysteriously, patting her side.
There’s a thought, it might be a good idea to make things more homely up here? Alpha called Cathy and Mike to his side, “Could you two please wait near the rest area? This young man has been held here for a while and might feel pressured if he sees a camera straight away. In fact, it would be beneficial if you hung back a little to begin with, full stop. Let everyone settle and get used to the idea they’re actually going home, and I’m sure you’ll have more than enough willing participants to interview. How does that sound?”
The BBC news crew glanced at each other and shrugged. “Fine by us,” Cathy assured him, “we can record them as they come into the office to give the viewing public an idea of just how many you’ve helped here today, and once you know for sure who the more laidback ones are, just give us the nod, and we’ll move in for a little one-on-one chat.”
“Excellent, I’ll get someone to drop a list of names and photos across so you can…” The Grand Master caught himself midsentence, as if his attention was suddenly elsewhere. Then his face creased with pleasure. “Get ready, you’re about to find out what Bravo’s surprise present is.”
Seconds later, an extremely happy Robin Johns was escorted into the room. Attired in a bed sheet that had been wrapped about him in the manner of a robe, and armed with his very own, extremely lifelike Jedi light saber, he was heavily engaged in fighting off whatever imaginary foes were daring to attack him from every side.
Cathy and several of the CIA agents appeared quite shocked, until Alpha pointed out the plasma staffs could be locked onto different settings. In its current configuration, Bravo’s weapon was quite safe to play with, even with one of the beams deployed.
Alpha didn’t miss how people seemed to react to his statement in one of two ways: most of the women present were united in their concerned disbelief; the men, by their longing or lustful envy.
In any event, protected under the benevolent aegis of Robin’s prowess, the work area was soon rearranged to suit and a new routine swiftly established.
Bravo would accompany one of the staff down to the cell complex where captives were roused, and once dressed, escorted to the main reception where Delta verified their identities and Charlie could carry out a preliminary health check. While they waited their turn in comfort, those newly liberated could watch TV, refresh themselves with a selection of hot or cold drinks, volunteer for a brief interview with the attending BBC news team – or they could while away their remaining time in captivity witnessing Robin’s valiant efforts against invisible Storm Troopers.
Alpha was happy to let such distractions continue, for they served a useful purpose. They gave Charlie time to carry out another important task.
Every human being generates an electromagnetic field. It surrounds their body, and many refer to this field as an aura. Although invisible to most, someone with psi ability can see this esoteric manifestation by shifting their perspective. Depending on a person’s psychological and physiological well being, that aura can vary between a gentle nimbus – with brighter concentrations around certain meridians that some refer to as chakra points – or, if that person is ill, it can be murky and flecked with darker muddy colors.
In those with psychic abilities, the nimbus is much more pronounced. It becomes a glowing corona of radiance, with vivid concentrations at the chakra points. If a person is powerfully endowed, that corona blooms outward in petal shaped arcs, and can be visually and mentally blinding, in some instances, taking on the characteristics of a miniature sun.
The colors within a halo are like the lines of a fingerprint, unique, in that they reflect both that person’s predominant psychic qualities, as well as their energy levels.
One thing the civilians didn’t know about the Guardian doctor was that his healing abilities went far beyond the therapeutic. Charlie also had the focus and skills required to sense and accurately ascertain the range and strength of extrasensory potential woven throughout each individual’s genetic code – their psi-well. From that, he could diagnose an accurate psychic profile on each hostage for Alpha to present to the Lord Procurator on their return.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Aware of the scope of Charlie’s dexterity, Alpha was determined to learn as much about their newfound friends as he possibly could. As such, he hovered nearby as the doctor conversed with each one in turn, maintaining an open ESP lock so that he could experience for himself exactly what Charlie heard, felt and saw.
Chatting to Robin wasn’t easy as frequent interruptions from Imperial Forces meant the going was slow and arduous. Time and again, Robin would roll away to engage the enemy in close quarter combat before returning to answer questions as if absolutely nothing had occurred. It would take a lot to free this crippled young man from his demons. But Alpha could see it would be worth it.
Robin’s pink and vermillion astral luminance was laced with royal blue streamers, a clear sign of his natural telekinetic and empathic leanings. However, those bands were marred by cloudy tendrils of tenebrous potency, strands so virulent that they seemed to leach the vitality from his very soul.
Every now and then, bright yellow flashes edged in black indicated those focal points where Robin’s energies had been blocked or had withered over time due to trauma and abuse. Those outbursts almost masked a very special quality that Alpha had asked Charlie to look out for – the obsidian blue blush of a natural shielder.
Gotcha! Alpha was jubilant: I knew there’d be a good reason for our scanners to have missed such a distinctive aura.
With the utmost care, Charlie mapped Robin’s psi-well along with his overall complexus, highlighting to his commander where the Lord Healer and her staff would need to concentrate their efforts to free Robin from the maladies plaguing him. But free him they would.
Alpha felt their intervention this day justified by this one discovery alone: So he still retains the potential to join the academy in future?
Oh yes…and then some.
Both Guardians had to fight the urge to burst out laughing at the thought of Robin’s reaction when he learned that one day, he’d earn his very own plasma staff, one that could do some real damage to Darth Vader himself, let alone his puny Storm Troopers.
The next people brought up were the elderly folks from Nebraska, Earnest and Margaret Hemmingway, who had been married for almost sixty years.
People had gossiped about how strange Earnest and Margaret were for some time, as they loved to enter town fairs and State agricultural shows, and always seemed to win first prize for whatever they entered, be it flowers, fruit or vegetables. It had also been noted by nosey neighbors how wild animals were constantly drawn to the Hemmingway residence, a place they seemed only too ready to treat like a home from home.
Earnest and Margaret might have remained anonymous were it not for the current initiative. After all, it wasn’t against the law to possess green thumbs or have a love of nature. But Charlie knew better. Sharing details of their olivine tinged auras with Alpha, both men could see the obvious signs of budding elementals – Earnest’s sapphire and ochre highlights hinting at his aptitude to manipulate water and earth, while Margaret’s deeper tangerine hues showed a clear capacity for influencing the health of living things.
Neither had been aware they were doing anything out of the ordinary, as their joy of gardening had channeled their energies in a mutually productive and rewarding way. The same could be said for their poorly developed telepathic faculties, which both oldsters had assumed was an entirely natural intuitive benefit most couples developed as the decades flowed slowly by.
Thankfully, the doting pair had only been held in custody for a week, so it would be a simple matter of returning them to their idyllic lifestyle later today without suffering any further intrusions.
I’m sure the CIA will be only too willing to provide an appropriate cover story to help them settle back in, Alpha pondered. Yes…I’ll see to that personally.
Jose Antonio Calderon, a thirty-four year old ex-con from Huston, Texas, was an entirely different sort. His distinct red nimbus, tinged through with pulses of bottle green, revealed him to be a highly compulsive character, able to influence others by force of will. That, together with his self-healing ability and lack of early direction in life had made him a natural criminal, a thug who enjoyed extorting others to further his own interests.
It was inevitable that Calderon’s chosen vocation would bring him into conflict with well-established hoodlums, and sure enough, the ensuing contracts on his life only stroked his overblown ego. But when a good half dozen of those hits proved ineffectual – despite claims to the contrary – whispers about Calderon’s stubborn refusal to die reached the wrong ears.
Pre-warned, those ears armed themselves with what they thought were suitable teeth. But, when it became apparent drugs, Tasers and gas had little effect on their target, the Snoop Team sent to apprehend Calderon were forced to resort to escalating violence to bring him in. Since then, Angel Project investigators didn’t go near him unless accompanied by two fully armed SWAT teams on standby.
Fortunately, both Bravo and Delta were deliberately letting their own vastly superior compulsive capabilities leak out in his direction, and so far, it had kept him as quiet and compliant as a lamb.
Next to emerge from below were Paul Cole and his girlfriend, Sandi Windsor, both from Alaska. At twenty-six and twenty-four years of age respectively, this young couple knew from high school their love of seclusion and the great outdoors would mean they’d finally wind up together.
Their cabin – The Great White – situated a mile off the main Highway close to Circle and the Yukon Flats National Wildlife Reserve, allowed them to enjoy the tranquility they craved, away from civilization and all the pressures that went with it.
Even so, it only took a small twist of fate for civilization to catch up with them.
Weather in the USA’s most northerly State can be particularly cruel at the best of times. Paul and Sandi had discovered that to their cost only two weeks previously, when they crashed their truck on the way home from the small settlement of Porcupine, during one of the worst whiteouts on record.
Stranded in the middle of nowhere in freezing temperatures without reception for their scroll phones, things looked bleak. Or they would have, were it not for a fact that the childhood sweethearts were strongly gifted.
Huddled together inside the cab within a protective bubble powered by Sandi’s mind, they waited out the storm, with Sandi managing to endure the mammoth task of generating a heat shield for so long by absorbing the invigorating energies transferred her way by her boyfriend. In turn, Paul kept their spirits high by using his remote sensing capability to track the precise movements of the weather front as it moved away.
Once the blizzard had passed, Sandi had melted the snow entombing them, and kept their extremities warm throughout the five mile trek that followed, while Paul employed his astral skills to navigate safely through the intervening wilderness. It wasn’t until more than nine hours had passed since the start of their little misadventure that they reached the safety of the nearest police station at Fort Yukon.
Due to the nature of what they’d undergone, it was to be expected that an entry would be made in the station log. An action entirely without prejudice.
However, the driver of the recovery vehicle dispatched to tow their truck the following day noted the human-shaped scorch marks blistering the seats, foot well and fascia inside the cab. Thinking it unusual that a fire hadn’t caught and spread, he took pictures on his mobile phone and showed them to the sheriff.
The sheriff agreed the circumstances were odd, and although Paul and Sandi managed to explain the damage away, copies of the photographs found their way into the accident report.
Needless to say, when the incident was transferred back to Fairbanks in the weekly roundup, it was pounced on by the all seeing, all knowing eyes of the Angel Project, who sent a full tactical squad to check things out.
Fortunately for that squad, neither Sandi nor Paul was in the least bit aggressive, for Paul saw them coming in three helicopters from over two miles away, giving them plenty of time to arm themselves had they wanted. And had she been inclined, Sandi could have easily blasted them from the sky as they hovered overhead.
The CIA boys were lucky they didn’t get their asses kicked. Alpha observed dryly.
But that isn’t this couple’s style, do you see? Charlie expounded, as he finished reading their dossier and watched them relaxing on a nearby couch. Highlighting the innate way Paul’s green and violet aura intermingled to the ochre and blue blooms given off by his girlfriend, he added: they possess calming auras and naturally meld to each other in harmonic union whenever the other is close by, thereby multiplying the sum of their energies. Quite remarkable, seeing as they’re unskilled…and quite a catch for us, wouldn’t you say.
They are indeed, Alpha agreed: though I think the best is yet to come.
*
Holding Cell 2—Angel Project
Little Becky Selleck had eventually fallen into an exhausted sleep in the early hours of Saturday morning, dreaming of the world so recently torn from her grasp by the loss of her precious mommy.
In her dreams, Becky was in the safety of her warm and cozy bedroom. Buried beneath the quilt, she waited expectantly for her mother to wake her as she did every day, projecting feelings of love and security as she came up the stairs, humming the latest tune from the radio in her head.
Telepathically and out loud, she would enter the room and say, “Now where’s my Becky today?” Mommy always made a point of standing in the doorway, hands on hips, as if searching every corner with her eyes.
Espying the moving mound – with the quietly giggling child inside, who was trying to shuffle into an even smaller ball – she would declare, “Oh, she’s not in bed, that’s just the duvet.”
Becky’s mommy would then walk over until she was within touching distance, get on her hands and knees, lift up the valance and look under the divan. “She’s not hiding here, either. I know, she’ll be in the closet and will try and jump out and scare me. Well, it won’t work today because I know where you are, and I’m going to . . . .”
Throwing open the cabinet door, mommy would feign further surprise. “My, my, she’s not here. Oh dear, I suppose I will have to eat her favorite breakfast for her. What a shame—she sooo loves Wheatyflakes as well. And if I can’t eat them, I can always give them to Barney next door.”
At the mention of Barney – their neighbor’s very fat and affectionate dog, who loved having Becky give him tummy tickles that lasted forever – Becky would usually leap out from under the quilt. “Here I am! You never find me!”
Lately, Becky had taken to using her knack for making things move with her mind by getting something small on the other side of the room fall to the floor with a loud bump. When that happened, mommy would play along and proclaim, “Aha! You made a mistake. I heard you, and now I’ve found...?” She would start and exclaim, “Oh, she’s not here either. I know—it must have been a mouse, a mouse wearing Becky’s shoes. Well, I do hope it asked Becky first?”
One time, Becky even made the quilt jump high into the air as she revealed herself, much to their delight.
Becky would miss mommy. She would miss being woken by her thoughts, and she would especially miss her cuddles . . . .
Becky? Someone called her name.
Still dozing, and burrowed as usual inside the covers, Becky tried to hang onto the dream of mommy and the life she’d lost.
Becky, where are you, little one? The same person spoke again.
Go away, you’re making mommy disappear.
I’m sorry, but I can’t go away, your mommy wanted me to come and find you.
Suddenly wide awake, Becky went very still, realizing she hadn’t actually been speaking, but thinking, and that the man’s voice was not a voice at all, but only a sound within her head.
Hello? She whispered telepathically, not daring to move.
The same warm mind replied: Hello little one. Who’s been a very good girl, then? Who did exactly what mommy said and kept herself safe until someone came to take her to her new home, a secret home?
Secret home? Not daring to reply openly, Becky suddenly remembered what her mommy used to say to her over and over again when they were still together:
“Darling, if ever there’s a time when I can’t be with you, remember never to trust anyone who can’t inside-speak in the way that we can.”
At first, the little girl had been confused by her mother’s caution. “But why won’t you be there? Why would you leave me alone?”
Mommy would always reassure her. “I wouldn’t want to, my darling, of course not. But this is important for you to understand.”
Gradually, over time, Becky had come to realize that mommy was just being very careful. Mommy was special like she was, and she wanted to make sure that Becky would always be safe if there ever came a time when she wasn’t there. Protected from others who couldn’t do the things that they could.
“Where are the other people like us?” Becky would ask.
“Why, they’re everywhere, living in houses like you and me. Some very special ones live all together in a big mansion on an island.”
“An island? By the sea?”
“Surrounded by sea, silly.”
“Well, why can’t we live there then?” she would ask, employing a child’s logic.
“Well, mommy nearly did when she was younger, but she was just going to get married to daddy, and so we ended up living in our own apartment. And now, I like living here, and I’m glad you have all sorts of playmates at school, and mommy has her girlfriends at work.”
“Aaah, but they aren’t like us, so couldn’t we just move to the island now?”
“That would be lovely, but it would mean leaving behind everyone we have in this place, so I thought we should wait until you’re a bit older.”
“Then we’re going to go and live with other special people?”
“Hopefully, yes. But until that time, we have to remain out of sight...as if we were hiding under your bedcovers. And if I ever have to go away, do you remember what it was I told you?”
“Yes.” Becky would reply in a serious tone. “Be careful of who I make friends with and who I talk to. If they can’t inside-speak, I must never tell them that I can do it.”
“And what else?” Mommy would emphasize, tuning in her aura so Becky could see it.
“Look at them carefully to see if they can shine.” Becky would reply proudly, making her own emanations beam brightly in return.
Mommy would then scoop her up in her arms. “Well done, my good little girl! They are the only ones you can really trust Becky, never forget that – that – that...”
Secret home! The words struck a powerful cord in young Becky’s heart. Still hardly daring to move, still trying so hard to do exactly what her mommy had told her, she carefully whispered: Why can you hear what I’m thinking?
Feelings of warmth and a broad smile registered strongly across the landscape of her awareness as the voice replied: Aaah, that’s because I’m special like you. Like your mommy.
You’re special? Becky responded, still being careful: What do you mean?
A powerful sense of approval radiated toward her from the unknown mind.
Good girl. Your mommy would be very proud that you listened to her. Now, if I could just find you, I would give you a big hug to say well done. But the people upstairs must have tricked me, because they said you were still asleep...and you’re not here. All I can see is the coverlet. I know, perhaps you snuck into in the wardrobe over there.
The sound of footsteps walking past the bottom of the bed caused Becky’s spine to tingle as she recognized the game she would play with her mother. Gently exerting her farsight, she watched as a grownup dressed in black – with pretty stripy things on his sleeves – opened the closet door. Becky caught her breath. Not because she was scared, but because the man’s skin was covered with golden blue lightning that sparked and danced through all the colors of the rainbow along the edge.
A shining man? A BRIGHT SHINING MAN!
Her blazing visitor peered into the empty cupboard. Shaking his head sadly, he turned to a lady standing by the door, winked, and said, “No, she’s not in there, either. Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to go without her then, what a shame.”
The quilt exploded upward from the bed. Shouting loudly with mind and voice, Becky launched herself toward his arms, “No, no, no! Don’t leave me, here I am.”
Laughing heartily, his countenance as radiant as the Sun, the man caught her, held her up and looked into her desperate little face. “Don’t you ever worry about that, Becky. You’ll never be alone again. Trust me, you’re safe now.”
Becky looked him straight in the eye and gravely replied, “Oh, I know,” Before snuggling into his chest and holding on tight.
*
Charlie was absolutely stunned when Alpha walked back into the main office with the child in his arms. So much so, he dropped his coffee.
The report alluded to the fact that Becky was only five, and it was obvious she was totally untrained or schooled by Guardian preceptors. Even so, it was immediately apparent her mother’s early input had promoted a profound effect on the girl’s natural strength and range of abilities.
When the other Guardians queried his reaction, Charlie expanded his own exceptional vision so they could see Becky as he did. But it wasn’t until Alpha had put her down on the chair – explaining that Charlie was a special doctor who wanted to make sure she was okay before going to her new home – that her unique distinctive aura reigned free for all to see.
A huge golden corona surrounded her, interlaced with violets, indigos, blues, greens and strong pinks. There were even flashes of vermillion, showing the huge reservoir of ultrasenses, empathic, telekinetic, and healing abilities lying within. Some were haloed in white and exploded like miniature supernovas, distinguishing those capabilities that had not yet incarnated.
It wasn’t that her complexus radiated with the brilliance of one whose overall potency would easily mature beyond High Grand Master – something unprecedented in one so young and inexperienced – that shocked them all. On the contrary, it was the ribbons of brilliant silver energy entwined throughout all aspects of her aura which caught them unawares. That color was a clear and rare indicator of a vast psychic talent awakening and coming to fruition, a talent capable of the ultimate metamorphosis on maturation: transcension.
To see those indicators in one so young and unaware was like being granted a glimpse into heaven itself. Wonderful beyond description and something they might never witness again.
One and all, the Guardians exchanged surprised glances, a fact not missed by Cathy and Mike, still busily recording away for all they were worth.
“Is everything alright, Alpha?” Cathy asked.
Alpha severed the connection to Charlie’s mental broadcast and shook his head. “More than alright, Cathy. This little girl is very, very special, and I’ve got a feeling that one day she may help to change the world.”
Becky beamed at the compliment. “When are we going home...and why are they calling you Alpha when your proper name is Corbin?” she probed.
Everyone who heard her comment burst out laughing. Sighing theatrically, Alpha-Corbin stooped down beside Becky’s seat and began trying to explain why grownups sometimes had to be called by titles.
Charlie was in awe of the manner by which Becky could already compartmentalize parts of her higher psyche. As Alpha continued speaking, Charlie piggybacked along, enthralled, as the little girl examined the BBC News team’s equipment with her deep and farsight, projected an astral aspect of herself into the separate office where Gregory Harris lie recuperating, before skimming over the rest of her fellow prisoners as they relaxed, spread out along the sofas by the TV.
Spotting Robin testing the limits of his light saber in the kitchen, she soon tired of making Alpha suffer. She giggled, and to no one in particular, whispered, “He’s funny.” Suddenly her eyes popped as she shifted the acuity of her telepathic perceptions. “Oooh, he’s special, too!”
Becky scanned the rest of the room, instantly recognizing those others like her. She tugged on Alpha-Corbin’s sleeve, “Are they all coming with us?”
Nodding, “Uncle Corbin” replied, “Some are, Becky, but a few like Grandpa Ernie and Grandma Margaret over there say they’re too old to move, and just want to go back to their own home. I can’t blame them; they have an especially beautiful garden.”
The little girl nodded. “But they can come and visit us when they want to, can’t they? Or we can visit them?” She sent a public telepathic query bowling their way.
Margaret got up from her chair, tottered over, and patted Becky on the head. “You can visit us any time you want, sweetie. And when you do, you can help me feed the birds we get, at all hours of the day. They’re always friendly and they do so love to sing.”
The elderly lady and small child then walked back to the other side of the room where they proceeded to chat away as if they had been friends for years.
Bravo quietly stepped over to where Alpha, Charlie, Cathy and Mike had congregated together. Speaking aloud for the benefit of the camera, she said, “They’re getting inquisitive upstairs. We’ve been down here for a while and they want to know what’s going on. It looks like they’ve worked up the courage to send a team down the shaft to check things out.”
“Let them come,” Alpha replied. “We won’t be here when they arrive anyway, and it will be good for them to get one of their own doctors in for Mister Harris.” He spun to face the others and raised his voice. “If you would please gather round me, we’re about to leave and I want to make sure everyone has everything they need.”
Looking from face to face, he surveyed his eager audience.
“From here, we will teleport to one of our ground based Operations Centers. From there, you will be transported to where you need to go. Mister and Missus Hemmingway, before we take you home, we’ll be having a chat with you and introducing you to a liaison officer from the Lord Conciliator’s office who will make sure you don’t get hassled once you’re back, okay?”
They all nodded to indicate that they understood. “Thank you, son, that will be fine,” Ernie added. “But would it be too much trouble to ask you take us to our local store as well? We’ve not been gone long, but we still need some fresh milk and bread.”
Alpha glanced toward Charlie and smirked. Charlie could appreciate why. It was one of the hazards of the job to be called “son” or other such terms by people who didn’t realize they were far, far younger than the people they were addressing.
“That will be no problem at all, Sir.” Alpha replied without pausing, “Consider it done.”
Turning to the Angel Project team, Alpha continued, “The mobile emitters will disappear at the same time we do, but don’t worry; this place won’t collapse for at least an hour, so it will give you all plenty of time to collect your belongings. Let’s hope we don’t have to meet under circumstances like this again, eh?”
Before another word could be spoken, the Guardians and those they’d been sent to rescue were gone; winking out of existence in less time than it takes to blink an eye.
*
Some ten minutes later, the bemused officers of the Angel Project were still sitting there, staring at each other in bewilderment and wondering what would happen, when the rescue team poked their heads in through the wrecked armored doors.
“I thought this place was supposed to be impregnable?” the lead agent gasped.
Liz shook her head as she beckoned them in. “You have no idea. Can you imagine what would have happened if they had been pissed at us?”