The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey (42 page)

Facing John’s back, Sofia put her hand upon him, but he ignored her touch.

“John, let’s go back to Labor, you and me together. We don’t need to fight in their war. It’s none of ours,” she pleaded.

“It is ours, Sofia,” he responded.

Stephen looked at the Commander with a shaking of his head. They were not authorized to allow John into the fold. Although he would make an excellent asset, he was too independent, and Central was recognizing him as a potential threat.

“What about this woman here?” the Captain asked, pointing at Sofia.

“Wait,” Stephen interjected, “we can’t take him.”

The Captain held his hand up, silencing the officer.

“She’s going back to Blue,” John said.

“Going back?” Sofia was aghast. “I’m going to stay with you, John.”

“No, you’re not,” he answered sternly.

“Oh, yes I am. There’s no way…”

“Sofia,” he yelled at her. “You’re not listening to me. This war
is
mine. It’s all mine. You need to get on that ship. After I finish this I’ll come home. Now go!”

“No, I’m not going back to Labor alone.”

“You don’t have a choice,” John said, taking her firmly by the arm, directing towards the awaiting airship. “You need to go home.”

“No! No, John. I’m not going back there without you,” she screamed out, tearing her arm away from him and falling to her knees. “Do you think you’re the only one suffering? I’ve lost things, too. I’ve lost you. Our son is gone… I don’t want to be without you ever again. Please, John. Please, don’t make me go.”

John could do nothing to stop her crying. And he found it impossible to respond to her needs, as he would have liked to. The burning wall of his heart would not allow it. Watching her prostrate at his feet, all he could see were the eyes of the dead staring back at him, hanging on the targets in his death room back on Raw. He was faced with nearly the same choices that originally brought them to the place where they were now standing. Go back to Labor with Sofia, or take her down another path of destruction. The responsibility of his actions, of her well-being, was all on his shoulders. But unlike that day in their home, when he made the decision for the both of them to head north, to seek the answers he desired, it was all about knowledge, to the solving of a mystery. Now, it was about revenge, about righting what had been wronged.

Looking down at the pathetic love of his life, weeping and frail, John chose the only way he knew how to walk. Taking his first step upon the only clear path at the fork in the road, his mind was now set. Looking to Banks, he said, “I guess you’d better notify Central that you’re going to require more provisions for the mission. You have another two man team to provide for.”

After the briefing with Central, the five passengers of the air transporter destined for Golden Planet made their way to the upper deck of the airship. Securing themselves into the flight seats, they prepared for lift-off.

As Sofia pulled the restraining straps across her chest, she felt the breeze of adventure blowing upon her once again. Although he was still at a standoff with her in regards to her insistence in being present for the mission at hand, she knew that through John’s change of mind, as it pertained to her return home, she was slowly peeling through the layers of hardship that had covered over his heart for so many years. Eventually she would reach that core and find her true love
waiting.

Buckling himself into the chair, John recognized the frustration building inside of him as he worried about keeping Sofia out of harm’s way. Still trying to keep focused on the assignment, especially as they destined themselves once again for an unknown world, he was consumed by a burdening uneasiness of not being fully in control of his own destiny, let alone
Sofia’s.

Up in the flight control room, Banks and Stephen made their final checks upon the ship’s systems. Calling out through the onboard speakers, Stephen turned off the automatic launch sequence, choosing rather to inform his crew manually.

“Engine checks are a go. We have ten seconds to lift off,” he said.

With the head pads obscuring her view, the tip of Maryanne’s nose was visible to Sofia across from where she was seated. The movement of the ship was steadily growing more erratic under the intensifying vibration of the transporter’s engines as it began to rev up, high pitched and whining. Sitting on the other side of her, John’s eyes were closed. He appeared to be deep in thought, ignoring the coming
flight.

With a burst of flames and thick, black smoke, the pointed, steel machine began to rise above the surface of Red, leaving its charred fingerprint stained upon its sandy crust. The surface of the red planet below was speedily falling away, its hills and valleys shrinking into obscurity. Passing through the greenish-blue expanse, its voyage would take it into the darkness of space.

It had been so many years since the day John first made contact with the red planet. The surreal atmosphere of the moment caused by the events of the past twelve hours seemed almost artificial: a trick of his mind. He was always so certain that he was meant to die there. He found it hard to believe that he would not be stepping foot upon its bloody soil anytime again in the near future.

The unknown is an impossible thing for the mind to grasp: there is just nothing there to conceptualize, to reconcile the thoughts with, nothing to prepare for or against. Golden World was one of those oddities. Each man and woman on the transporter would, eventually, be getting acquainted with its actual existence, but what he or she would find at the end of the journey, no one could tell. There was no point of reference to start from, with the exception of a few items of food and luxury from the crates on Labor. It was all a mystery.

Traversing space to such a distance from the Savior was beginning to physically make its mark, as the coolness was settling into the internal atmosphere of the transporter. With experienced pilots at the helm, who understood the inner workings of the ship, the passengers were able to get a glimpse through the camera system of the distant planets, like tiny balls, encircling a bright sphere of flaming
light.

The Savior, from such a far-off view, was an illuminating joy for Sofia to see. Having never witnessed the worlds around them from such a perspective helped her mind to grasp the enormity of His domain with a greater appreciation.

To John, the images on the screen helped him to realize the vastness of his actions. If they were able to achieve what he believed to be their goal, the entire world system would fall into new hands. The idea of turning the tides on the powers-that-be gave him a feeling of moral purpose and empowerment, something he had lacked for so long. It also helped to alleviate his anger, allowing him to periodically peek over the burning wall of rage. Only time would tell whether or not anything would come from their sacrifices, or if they would, like so many brave fools before them, disappear into the obscurity of historical failures.

As the somberness of the mood of the occupants of the transporter seemed to be unanimous, with the exception of Sofia, very little words were exchanged throughout the trip. Meals were consumed in quietness. Sleep was the most common activity. They were, according to the computer’s calculations, forty-nine hours until touchdown. The anxiousness for the time to fly away was quite apparent in the short-tempered statements that fell from the mouths of the disquietedly awaiting crew.

Maryanne, Stephen and Banks seemed to be privy to more information than they were letting on to. Ever since descending the ramp on Red, their demeanors seemed more cold and calculating than before their meeting, not too dissimilar to John’s. Perhaps, Sofia thought, they were simply making the mental preparations necessary for the task they were embarking on. Whatever the reason, she definitely felt out of place among such an atrabilious crowd. Leaving them to themselves, she lost herself in her own imaginative world, wandering with her and John’s son through the warm, thick green of the forests back on Labor.

“Please, Savior, let these days be over quickly. I just want us to go home.”

The roar of the reverse thrusters began to kick in as the aircraft entered the atmosphere of Golden Planet. Descending rapidly towards its surface, the tingling of John’s gut was nothing new, and he paid little mind to its stimulating effect.

Sofia could see his hand grasped around the armrest beside her. She desired to place her hand upon his arm, but refrained for fear of setting off another one of his frequent outbursts.

Unlike the lift-off a few days earlier, Maryanne was nowhere to be seen, having rather taken a seat above with the two other men in the pilot’s room. Throughout the excursion, she seemed more and more to distance herself from Sofia’s friendship. With little more than passing glances, communication between them had all but ceased.

The whir of the thrusters began to peak. John and Sofia felt the crushing sensation of their bodies as they sank back into the padding of their seats: the transporter was about to make contact with its landing zone.

Casting a final, brief look at John before they hit the ground, Sofia could see the lights reflecting off the beads of sweat forming about his lip and forehead. His uneasiness about the mission was written on his face.

As they felt the transporter meet the hard surface of the planet, John unhesitatingly unbuckled himself and exited the chair.

“Let’s go,” he said sharply, moving towards the floor hatch, which led to the ladder below.

Without waiting for the rest of the team, he opened the circular door at his feet. Ordering Sofia to descend to the lower decks, he followed close behind.

In the large bay area at the bottom of the ship, they waited for several minutes while Stephen and the others made the descent. His business on Red was always decorated with a sense of urgency, and he detested the slow and steady movements of his elder commanders.

As they reached the bottom, Stephen dropped a facial expression upon John that said, “This is it.” Nothing more was conveyed in his eyes. He and Maryanne walked over to the bay door. Using a handheld computer that was similar to the one John had obtained from Labor, they set the motors of the gate rumbling. Soon after, the door started to rise. It’s teeth were a familiar sight to John. Like a leviathan whose mouth they were about to enter, the black, dampness of the rainy environment outside was revealed, dreary and haunting.

Through the trickling drops of water falling from the sky, they could see that the programming engineers at Central had done an incredible job of organizing the mission. The streams of steam rising from the engine of the unmanned air transporter that they were to rendezvous with waited patiently across the way for them, intermittently visible through the dispersion of its exterior flashing lights. It appeared that all the provisions were delivered as
promised.

Stepping out into the rainfall, the five-man team descended the ramp, hopping off at the end of its metallic hand and onto the soft, muddy soil. Stephen held his arm around Maryanne, cringing with each step as he grabbed at the wounds of his abdomen. Sofia, on the other hand, pushed herself to conceal the suffering she was experiencing from the mangled tissue caused by John’s bullet. He had not wanted her to come along with him as it was, and she was determined not to be a hindrance to him. The strobe of lights, like halos of flashing blue, revealed the fallen trees that surrounded the landing zone, burned and torn, creating a circular perimeter around the two aircraft.

“There’s no turning back now, is there, John?” the Captain said, shielding his eyes from the wind.

John ignored him. There was no reason to respond to such meaningless rhetoric.

The door of their former transporter began to close behind them, and with it, the light of the fluorescent glow from its holding cell was slowly taken away. As the one door fell, the bay door to the unmanned craft began to rise. Parked inside they could see three wheeled transporters lined side-by-side, the likes of which neither member of the team had ever seen.

From a distance it was quite obvious that they were different from those of their past experiences. Rounded at the corners, shiny and aerodynamically designed, they were held to a higher standard of craftsmanship than the standard Labor and Raw vehicles. The windows were tinted black, and each of the four rims of the tires was chromed and radiantly bright. Decorated with silvery grills, and headlights that stood out from the bodies of the vehicles, they had a distinct panache that was hard to
ignore.

Maryanne accompanied Stephen and Banks to the rear of the vehicles, as if they had held to a pre-knowledge of the presence of what they would find in the trunks. Opening the center transporter’s rear quarters, Banks pulled out a hard, gray suitcase that was three times as long as it was wide. Out of the rear of the other vehicles, Maryanne and Stephen performed the same maneuvers. Setting the cases on the floor, they typed their pin numbers into the interfaces under the handles. After a clicked release of the locks, they opened the
lids.

Sofia and John moved closer to Stephen, looking over his shoulder to get a better look at the contents inside his case. There were several gadgets embedded within gray, foam slots, a few magazines filled to capacity, and multiple suppressed handguns. John could make out a stash of high explosives tucked away in the corners. The keys to the transporter’s ignition system were paper-wrapped inside a clear, labeled container.

Opening the door to the rear seat of one of the vehicles, Banks retrieved the dangling, plastic-draped packages that awaited him. Wrapped about wooden hangers, the teams’ suits and dresses, crafted of fine material and tailored specifically to each individual, was readily handed
out.

“It’s quite apparent that they want us to fit in with the locals,” the Captain said as he undressed down to his underwear and began redressing into the attire of Golden’s culture.

Following his lead, the rest of the team began to remove their battle dress uniforms and don the fanciful clothing of the wealthiest of the worlds.

Smooth and silky, John felt awkward slipping into the shirt and jacket of the black suit that was assigned to him. Not having knotted a necktie since he was a youth on Labor, he sheepishly asked for the assistance of Stephen who was standing at his side. Once fitted with his new wear, the only comfort of familiarity he could find was when he placed the pistol into his shoulder rig
holster.

“Here, hold still,” Stephen said, as he strapped a band around John’s neck, centering it upon a circular hub just under the lump of his throat. Maryanne, paying no attention to her person, assisted Sofia in the same manner. Just as she worked on Raw, Maryanne moved her hands nimbly and efficiently. Although Sofia tried to make eye contact with her, she continued with her duty, pretending to be completely unaware.

“What are these?” John asked.

“This is how we’ll communicate from this point on. Press this button to actuate the mic,” Stephen said depressing a flattened nub at the side of the device. Everyone in the party will hear you. “Here,” he continued, handing John an electronic earpiece. “Place it as far into your ear as you can get it. We don’t want anybody getting suspicious.”

John pressed the device into his ear canal. There was an initial blurb of mild static. Banks held his hand to his throat.

“Can everybody hear me?” he asked.

His voice came through loud and clear in John’s ear, as if the man were standing directly beside him.

“I need everyone to line up. We need to make this briefing short,” Banks ordered.

Gathering at the back wall of the cargo area, the Captain, beginning with Stephen, began handing out the assignments by way of individual handheld computers. As Banks made the rounds, stepping in front of John and Sofia, he placed the apparatus in John’s palm, patting him on the shoulder.

Turning on the system as he took it from the Captain’s hand, John’s face began to glow as the screen immediately lit up. Much to his surprise, his target was merely drawn as a silhouette, with the only description being that it was a male that apparently lived at the address set in the box beside the image.

“We have three individual targets to work with, and three hours before this ship leaves. Central has deemed these to be the highest of priorities,” Banks said.

Sitting back upon the rear bumper of the center vehicle, he continued, “Apparently they’re considered
weak
. They’ll give into any demands we make if we can get to them. Central believes that they alone hold the key to ending this conflict and shutting down Golden’s ruling government… and with its demise all of their other installations will fall. If you’re not back here before the doors close, you’re stuck here,” Banks said with a queer expression directed at Stephen.

Maryanne’s eyes were cast upon the floor in front of her. To Sofia, it seemed as if she was praying, but she nodded in the affirmative. Perhaps she was merely pondering on their task at hand. To John, it seemed as if the three of them were devising plans of which neither he nor Sofia was to have an involvement with.

“I need all the cases placed into this vehicle,” Banks commanded, throwing his thumb over his shoulder at the center transporter behind him.

Walking over to John, he leaned into him, whispering into his ear and pointing at the transporter on his far right, “I’m directing this at you only. I know you don’t want Sofia to have involvement with the true nature of this mission. From this point on, you’re Team Three, I’m Team One and they’re Team Two. What you’re carrying is all you’ll need. Here are the keys to this vehicle. Find your target. Get all the information you can out of it, no matter what it takes. Get that data to Central… then eliminate the threat. Do you understand, John?”

Looking him in the eye, Banks could see that John thought it a foolish question. The Sweeper was not going to answer him. He also understood that John did not believe that he was truly ready, and that burned his conscience. For deep down inside, Banks knew he was not certain himself if he could make his kill.

The unintentional smile out of the corner of his mouth was all John could give in answer to his superior. Without saying a word, he walked away from the Captain, kneeling down and locking the suitcase before placing it in the center vehicle’s trunk.

As he stood up and approached his assigned transporter, he said to Sofia, “Get inside. Let’s get this over with.”

“Three hours, John,” Stephen called out.

“I know. We’ll be here,” he replied as he opened the door and climbed inside, shutting himself in.

As the motor of the transporter began rumbling, Sofia looked across the room at her friend. Maryanne silently watched her from Stephen’s side. There was no expression, no words. Opening the door, Sofia sent her a last smile of goodbye… but with no returning salutation, she looked away uncomfortably and climbed into the vehicle, closing the door behind her.

“Wait,” Maryanne, exclaimed, holding up her hand. But it was too late.

As the transporter descended from the airship, disappearing into the foggy darkness outside, Sofia was oblivious to Maryanne as she ran down the ramp to see them off. She never heard the last words falling from her trembling lips as she cried out to her, “Take care, Sofia. Be safe.”

The dreariness of the rain falling during the night’s drive was undercut by the swirling kaleidoscopic display of colors reflecting off the bottoms of the low-hanging, cloud ceiling hovering over the distant city of Golden. Driving with as high a velocity as seemed safe to him on such a slippery, rural road, John was determined to make it to their destination and finish their part of the business before the first hour had elapsed. Looking down at the glowing hands of his watch, he had no idea what the exact hour of the day was, his timepiece was still synched to the hours on Red. But, a momentary clearing in the thick, blackness of the sky allowed him to capture the dim light of the Savior at its noontime apex: it was mid-day, yet it was as black as the darkest of nights. The Savior appeared as just an extraordinary bright star in the sky.

The hypnotically steady rhythm of the windshield wipers screeching back and forth, silhouetted against the backdrop of the vehicle’s headlights made Sofia’s eyes heavy. With the dull ache of her leg burning up a great deal of her energy, it wasn’t long before she fell into a deep sleep.

John watched her head slump to the side as she breathed heavily under the exhaustion of the emotional trauma she had been through. With the feelings of heartache making their way to the surface of his conscience, the fiery wall began to rise. Before it could build to the full strength of its barrier, John reached over and brushed the hair from her face, and continued driving.