Giddeon (Silver Strand Series) (30 page)

Russia
and
India
prepared for the second launch date, unaware that Ray’s rocket was almost to its destination.
 
Raymond kept up to date on his mission’s progress, but, really, all he could do was wait.
 
He had plenty more to keep him occupied.
 
Some of the time he spent at the Cayman house, but often he would jet off to far flung locations to monitor the progress of inserting back-up generators and diesel tanks at nuclear power plants across the globe.
 
When he wasn’t doing that, he was checking on the progress of shielding electrical grids and trying to ramp up production of transformers and relays for the system.
 

He and his billionaire buddies had formed a new corporation dedicated to manufacturing the huge and expensive electrical components… it was set up as a non-profit, and garnered all of the tax breaks involved in such an enterprise.
 
Most of the production would occur in
Texas
and
Florida
, due to their industry friendly environments.
 
Still, the red-tape was extensive… however, since it was Raymond Bradford, things went with some alacrity.
 
Probably, he had some help from higher up the food chain of governmental bureaucracy due to
Giddeon’s
info.
 
Even so, it was a slow process, and Ray realized that it would be years before they would be able to provide shielding for electrical grids world-wide.
 
Bradford also knew that
Rome
wasn’t built in a day… however, he worried, just like me, that it could be destroyed in one.
 

*****

Jennifer found that the time at Raymond’s estate was most therapeutic.
 
As beautiful days began to flow past like carbon copies of perfection, she spent time working out in Ray’s gym, swimming in the pool with Sampson, and reading classic literature from the in-house library.
 

After two weeks of leisure, she found that she needed something more than just focusing only on her mind and body, and decided to make herself useful.
 
With Ray’s approval, she began to help track his progress on the nuclear plants and electrical grids across the planet.
 
She read voraciously about the infrastructures that powered much of the modern world, and then pinpointed and catalogued specific areas of concern.
 
Dr. Evans ranked locations as to the order in which she thought they should be addressed, and helped estimate the costs and times that would be involved.
 
She was surprised to find that she had a knack for statistics and numbers, and Raymond couldn’t help but be impressed with her assessments.
 
After bringing a spreadsheet to him one morning, he looked it over and said,

“I think I’m gonna have to put you on my payroll.”
 
His comment had a bit of a drawl and a slight
Texas
accent that had been acquired later in his life… he spent a lot of time in the
Lone
Star
State
.

She smiled and responded, “Free room and board on an island paradise is quite enough.
 
Not to mention that all of my meals are prepared by professional chefs.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Except for saving the planet, money’s overrated.”

He grinned.
 
Raymond found that he really liked being around the younger woman… and, she was looking younger and more relaxed with each passing day.
 
Jennifer had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and was wearing a pair of khaki shorts,
Ked’s
tennis shoes and a Bradford Enterprises t-shirt.
 
It occurred to him that she really was part of his team.
 
A very nice-looking part of his team.
 
“Well… how about I throw in a luxury cruise on a 27 foot sailboat?”

“Now, you’re talking.”
 
Her amber eyes lit up behind her glasses.

*****

The wind was light and steady, and the water surface was closer in appearance to that of a lake than that of an ocean.
 
Jennifer and Ray maneuvered the small boat expertly off the periphery of the island, the blues and greens beneath them providing a liquid support that looked to be more like a laser enhanced photo of reality than reality, itself.
 
Sea birds flew overhead, and a few alabaster clouds were sprinkled across the sky.

Raymond was again impressed by Dr. Evans.
 
This time, it was her skill with ropes and sails instead of numbers and spreadsheets.
 
Sampson was left on the island, so it was the first time that the head of Bradford Enterprises had been truly alone with the woman in his care.
 

Not a lot of conversation was exchanged, other than what pertained to directing the vessel here and there on the
Caribbean
.
 
Eventually, they found a sheltered cove and anchored just off the shore to have lunch.
 
Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, potato chips and Snapple Tea.

*****

“This is delicious,” Jennifer said after she was half-way done with her meal.
 
“I didn’t know you could cook,” she teased.

“Peanut butter and jelly is my specialty.
 
I’m pretty good with ham and cheese, too.”

They laughed together and looked out over the water.
 
It was so clear that fish could be seen
zig-zagging
in the warm fluid beneath them.
 
Seagulls circled around the boat in a ritual hundreds, or possibly, thousands, of years old.
 
As old as Man’s ability to harness the wind for transportation on the water.
 
They carried on a casual conversation about the beauty of the day as they ate.
 

When they were done, they went for a swim there near the boat.
 
Ray did a cannonball off the side as he was already in his swimming trunks.
 

He looked up to see Jennifer Evans strip down to a red bikini that was under her shorts and shirt, and she did a cannonball, too.
 
Not much of a splash was produced by her version.
 
Raymond estimated that her total weight couldn’t have exceeded 115 pounds, and that was being generous.
 
Her workout routine had her form sculpted quite nicely, and she even had a bit of definition to her abdominal muscles which gave her a hint of a six pack.
 
The entrepreneur made a note to himself to hit the gym a bit more.

Bradford
climbed back on board to retrieve two masks with snorkels.
 
He returned to the water and handed one over to his swimming partner.
 
Together, they floated on the surface, face down, and viewed the colorful plants and animals of the shallows.
 

It was all quite mesmerizing… like they had a window to the heart of creation with all of its hues reflected in the underwater life.
 
They spent at least 45 minutes viewing the hypnotic rhythms of the ocean-covered reef.
 
Finally, they made their way back to the ladder on the rear of the boat.
 
Jennifer went up first, and Ray couldn’t help but take in the view as she did… at least, that’s what Giddeon said.

Once aboard, they dried off and Jennifer pulled on her shorts and shirt over her bathing suit.
 
Ray grabbed a t-shirt from below to replace his wet one, but didn’t notice, after he donned it, that it was the twin to Jennifer’s Bradford Enterprise shirt.
 
The shirt that was on her small frame, above.

“Look… we match,” said his companion when he emerged from the doorway.

He looked down and broke into a smile when he saw what she meant.

“How about that?” he observed.
 
“How… about that?”

They pulled up anchor and headed back home.

*****

The landing craft that was designed to nudge a massive object into a slightly different orbit finally made it into close proximity of its target.
 
There were several tense days, at the private Mission Control in
Texas
, when determinations were made as to the best time and place for an attempted touch down on the asteroid.
 
Confounding the situation was the time it took for signals to travel the distances involved… even at the speed of light, a good amount of delay was involved with each transmission.
 

Luckily, some of the brightest minds on the planet were involved in the calculations.
 
Video projected from the craft helped the Earthbound team estimate the natural rotation of the rock, and also gave an accurate survey of changing light and shadow patterns on the surface that regularly presented themselves during the turns.
 
Finally, a spot was selected that would give the best angle for adding reflective materials to the asteroid, and, at the same time provide the optimum point from which to sporadically burn the ion engine.
 
Hopefully, such actions would be enough to influence the object’s path and precession.

Two dozen scientists held their collective breath as an untried method of sticking a landing craft to a spinning mass of iron and nickel played itself out.
 
The wait was excruciating for the men and women after the command was given.
 
When the first images of a stationary rugged horizon came into view on screens and monitors, a cheer went up into the room that was most definitely not absorbed by the acoustic tiles of the ceiling.
 

*****

It would take several days of tests and re-tests before any of the 3 systems would be put into action.
 
During that time, Raymond took a trip to
Washington
to speak privately with the President and update him on his progress.
 
The 2
^nd
launch window was approaching for the Russian and Indian teams, and Bradford was concerned that future impacts of their payloads with the asteroid would render his device inoperable… of course, the two countries had no idea Raymond’s Lander was already on the incoming behemoth.

Recent information from Giddeon had indicated that impacts by either rocket could have detrimental effects upon Ray’s efforts to divert the asteroid.
 

*****

When I found out that the monsters didn’t like words, I spent quite a bit of time in the library.
 
At first, I suppose I was just searching for ammunition… looking for writings of the proper heft and balance.
 
Books I could fling with accuracy and authority.
 
But, the more time I spent in there, the more I came to realize that it wasn’t so much the actual words, themselves, that the monsters were opposed to… it was a residual spirit that was left behind on the pages that had been printed.
 
As if the essence of the authors was embedded in the off-white sheets.
 

And, as I came to find out, not all books were effective.

Just the ones that apparently were written from the proper frame of reference.

Religious texts, as I had discovered, for the most part were full of power.
 
But, also, some of the classics were equally as efficient in dispelling the closet dwellers.
 
And, some of the lesser known writings, too.
 
I got to where I could tell them apart… which ones would be useful, and which ones would have no effect.
 
Invariably, the ones that sent the monsters scurrying were books with a message of hope and an appreciation of life.
 
Ones that left you feeling good about being part of the world.

Sometimes, I would bring a stack home and use
Koba
as a critic of sorts.
 
I would pick the writings up one by one and threaten him with them.
 
Whichever book he reacted most adversely to I would put on my list of must-reads.
 
I’ve got to tell you… he was better than the Oprah Book Club at finding gems.

I think the intent of the authors that had penned the letters to the pages was somehow recorded in their works, and the vibrations of their messages are somehow painful to the demons.
 
I’m not sure they’re actual demons, as commonly thought of, but they were close enough for me to think of them as such.
 
I never saw any of them actually harm anyone… as a matter of a fact, as I got older, I began to think of them more as lumbering, crippled moths drawn to cold, miserable flames.
 
Somehow, pain and suffering on a spiritual level was like a siren call to the ugly beasts… a call that they could not resist.

Sometimes, I even feel sorry for them.
 
I wonder if they ever look at a sunset or see anything other than the dark clouds of distress that call them forth.
 
Do they even know what it is to be happy without sucking on vaporous despair?
 
I don’t know the answer to that, and I think maybe sometimes we as people do the same.
 
Not all food has equal nutritional value, and I suppose that maybe you are what you eat.
 
I wonder if that’s why they look so grotesque to me… it’s simply a reflection of their diet?
 

Looking back on that time of my youth, I think I learned a lot without really trying.
 
I read a lot of good literature, and even though it wasn’t filled with facts and theories the way Giddeon prefers, the tales and stories were informative, nonetheless.
 
Sometimes, the flights of fancy on those pages were equal to my own actual flights around my own magical world.
 
I wonder if that’s where authors get their imagination and inspiration… from people like me.
 
People trapped inside their minds looking for a way to connect with the outer reality.
 
It’s all so confusing that I don’t know what to think.
 

I’m just glad that I’m no longer trapped and have found a way to connect with Giddeon.
 
He’s so different from me that I know he’s not just part of my imagination… although he is my inspiration.

I couldn’t come up with someone like that… someone that has so many of the facts and figures of the material world at his fingertips.
 
Someone so enthralled with the workings of atoms and subatomic particles.
 
All of that is so foreign to me that it’s like another language… but, I still like the sound of it when it comes from his mouth.
 
Have you ever been to someplace where everyone around you was speaking another tongue?
 
It’s somehow comforting just hearing the ebb and flow of the sounds.
 
Even without understanding individual words, you can sort of get the meanings by the inflections and the tones.

I think maybe that’s what the monsters feel when I hurl a book through their translucent, vaporous forms.
 
The tones of the writing.
 
The harmony of words that somehow triggers a discordant pulse in their vampire hearts.
 
They don’t like the optimism and gratefulness contained in the works, because that represents starvation and deprivation to them.

Continued thirst and hunger.
 

Sometimes, if they’re just on their way out the window, I let them go… because, as miserable as they seem to be, I suppose they have to eat.
 
Every now and then, one will even glance at me on his way back to the closet…

Almost like saying ‘thanks’.

*****