I transported her. Three little words that said so much.
I was a Power. A Power! Impossible to believe, but true. My chance to bring honor to my family, to advance our caste; all my dreams about to come true. Sky, the dreams of all Drones about to come true. The weight of responsibility hung heavy.
I’d probably never know why the Guardians of the Universe chose me. But that didn’t matter. I now had a position of prominence unheard of for a Drone. The look on my mother’s face; that would stay with me forever.
I knew the story of my grandparents’ capture, had heard it many, many times. They had been gathered, along with others, from across the universe to serve the Guardians. They were not slaves in the Earth sense of the word. In fact, they were well treated, but their lives were forever limited to prescribed roles and they were never allowed to return home.
From the time I was a small child I dreamt of vindicating them. I had even resorted to the three wishes of humans; wishing to be a Power, wishing to become an exalted judge of the Grand Council, wishing to have the authority to send my family home. Stupid, I knew. Wishes hadn’t worked any better for me than they did for humans. Except for my Little Soldier of course. I was making her dreams and wishes come true. The fulfillment of my dreams would be determined by what happened on that little speck called Earth and how I handled it.
And, how she handled it.
Guardian, help me. If I haven’t chosen the right human, I’m in big trouble.
Earth, sir? I remember vividly my meek protest when I’d been given my first assignment. I had studied the earth ever since I started school, my knowledge of the planet was vast, greater than that of any of the viable candidates, but…. And that was another thing. It wasn’t like I had applied for the job. New powers were always appointed from the offspring of the Grand Council or members of the transport forces. So, why this unprecedented breach of protocol?
And, why me?
My mother thought it only natural. After all, wasn’t I brilliant? No Mom, my friend Exelrud is the smart one. He always did better in school. In fact without his help… And what about Elspeth, my older sister? She was pretty sharp. She should have been chosen. Elspeth grinned and said no, it would cut into her painting time, not to mention her social life. Exelrud slapped me on the back and offered condolences when I told him. Hell of a job, he said. You can have it. Well, I had it and I wanted it. But, Earth?
Sky, who was I to think of questioning the Grand Council? I told myself to shut up, count my blessings at being appointed and get to work.
Really it was a great assignment. There was so much work to be done and if I could pull it off…
I found my Little Soldier and it didn’t take me all that long either. It was her dreams that drew me. I knew right away that she was special.
Then I had to decide where to start. So many conflicts made it simple. Close my eyes, point my finger, almost any spot on the planet would do.
And, in five short earth days, the world had its Madame of Miracles.
I transported her away from Mustafa; a small but urgent job in a ghetto, then a bit of a break before South America.
I sighed. It was time to see Mentor again. Above all show no emotion, I reminded myself. Emotion had no place in the scheme of things as the Guardians saw it.
My parents had always cautioned us to be cool, not to laugh, or cry, or even frown outside our home. I had become pretty good at playing the stone face, but not Elspeth. I think my parents worried about her. I know I did. But, had we Drones become so good at suppressing emotion that we had long since ceased to feel? And, was that a good thing?
Mentor’s secretary gestured. I took a deep breath and entered the conference chamber.
“She’s terrified,” Mentor said.
“Only on the surface. Under that she’s thrilled.”
Mentor’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been watching closely. I shivered. “She is intelligent, I grant you that, but not the smartest person on the planet by far.”
“True,” I said. “What makes her good is her open-mindedness. She’s virtually free of prejudice and she’s honest. She acknowledges the possibilities of life on other planets, of life after death. She’s not tied to confining religious dogma, yet she has faith, in life and in herself. She knows her shortcomings but has the confidence to move ahead anyway.” I stopped. I was babbling. That would never do.
“Surely there are others with those qualities?”
“Of course.” Why was Mentor pushing? Couldn’t she see? I searched for words to convince her. “It’s a matter of having the right degree of qualities,” I ventured, “in the exact right combination.” Mentor’s didn’t speak, just stared at me with those beady little eyes. Guardian, she was a bitch. I love Earth words. So evocative.
“Most importantly, she is blessed with an ability to see all sides of any issue.” I was sure this would convince her.
“Don’t you mean cursed with?”
“But surely,” I said, taken aback, “surely she needs to be able to see all sides to do the tasks that are set before her.”
“On the surface it would seem so. That ability could also make it difficult for her to decide what is best, to act quickly and safely.”
“But, she’s doing all the right things.”
Again, Mentor said nothing. I shifted under her steady gaze as I considered her words. I had chosen my human with care. I wasn’t wrong. And, I was there to support her.
“She is the right one for the job. I’m sure of it.” I spoke with much more confidence than I felt.
Chapter 11
Elspeth's big sister stare unnerved me. As if Mentor wasn't enough. “What?” I muttered.
“Can't you do something about the media? They're relentless.”
“They have glommed on to M, that's for sure.”
“Humph,” Elspeth huffed. “As if she belongs to them.”
“But, don't you see. It suits my purpose. I need my Little Soldier to be the subject of endless speculation. The more they talk about her, the more I—”
Elspeth's eyebrows rose.
“Sorry, the more M and I will be able to accomplish.” Sometimes I thought it would be so much easier if I could go down there myself and slam a few heads together.
“Oh, look. There she is.”
M staggered to her car carrying two heavy boxes. She stumbled and fell. Papers flew out of the boxes and scattered in the wind. “Damn it!” Tears ran down her face. She pushed herself to a sitting position in the snow. “Damn it!” She watched the papers, some flying high in the sky, others plastered to the school ground fence. “Fuck!”
“Yves, do something.”
“Nothing I can do.” I felt like a heel. I could protect her from the Spinda, but I couldn't even pick up one little piece of paper for her.
M slumped in the snow and cried.
I closed the earth view and leaned my head wearily against the back of the chair.
“Yves?”
I waved Elspeth away. Her caring and concern, her censure and fretting were too much. She tiptoed out of the alcove.
I blinked M back. She was still sitting in the snow. Still crying, and unaware that she was speaking Pashto. What had I done to her? Could I protect her from herself?
And there’d be many more meetings with Mentor. I had practiced so many versions of explanation that I didn’t know any longer which might be the best to use when I saw her. Why was I so worried? “Because I’m a Drone and I don’t think I’m good enough?”
“What did you say?” Elspeth stood in the alcove entrance holding two cups of tea.
I jumped up, set the tea cups down and hugged her. “I’m so glad you came back.” I held out a chair for her.
“What’s wrong? You look worried.”
“I am. I'll have to meet with Mentor again of course—”
“So you’re sitting here brooding, trying to anti
cipate her questions and plan your answers.” I nodded. “Well, let’s get your mind off Mentor. Is M okay?”
“Are you trying to divert me or satisfy your own curiosity?” I grinned when Elspeth blushed. I blinked Earth into view.
“Who’s that?” Elspeth asked.
I frowned. “I have no idea.” Why had this lump of lard come into the picture? He hadn’t been on my radar at all. Why were we seeing him? Some two-bit actor, not even good looking—now if it had been Pitt or Depp….
*
It was well past midnight when Ron Conlin slipped into the house quietly so as not to wake Gram and the kids. Wound tightly from the day’s work, he poured a generous scotch, and sank into his armchair.
He flipped on the TV and the screen filled with images of foreign lands, war-torn and impoverished. He punched the control repeatedly trying to find something light. More of the same. He tossed the control onto the table, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. A shift of the announcer’s tone drew his attention back to the television.
Ron’s heart pounded. He gulped the last of his drink, watched a few minutes more. “Not again! I’m too old for another fucking obsession.” He swore, grabbed the control, hit the off button, and tossed it into the basket by his chair.
He went to bed, tried to put her out of his mind, tried to get some much-needed sleep. An hour later he lay wide awake, her face imprinted on the ceiling.
Ron kicked at the offending tangle of sheets, struggled out of bed, and went back to the TV.
He caught a glimpse of her and then a headshot of the news anchor, Richard Peters, who spoke in the clear crisp tones of neutrality as he recapped.
Ron fumed with impatience as Peters droned on about the events in central Asia, about the network’s news team, about Durocher, the foreign correspondent who had seen it all. He talked about the mystery woman’s first appearance in Indonesia. Madame of Miracles, the natives called her.
“Now,” Peters said, “we return to our interview with François Durocher. Fortunately, Mr. Durocher had his camera with him and had the presence of mind to take these pictures.”
Blessedly, for Ron, the screen was once again filled with images of her standing, arms spread wide with a look of wild anticipation, then bending to talk to a small child, and another of her scowling into the bright sun. Concentrating on her, Ron was barely cognizant of the commentary as François spoke.
Ron paced furiously in front of the TV as the camera switched from François to the newscaster and back again. He flipped to other channels searching for more shots of her, and finding none, switched back, forcing himself to be patient. François was speaking again.
“... after sunset is unheard of. As morning approached, people began moving in groups to the square.”
Tia, Ron’s daughter, found him in the darkened room asleep in his chair, clutching the control. Gently she wrested it from his hand to turn off the TV.
“No.” He opened his eyes and stared at her.
“Dad, are you okay? It’s almost noon.”
Ron scowled. “Skipping school?”
Tia laughed, informed him it was Saturday, and reminded him that Brad was at soccer camp for the weekend.
“Where’s Gram?”
“She’s having lunch with her ladies’ group and getting groceries. She said she wouldn’t be back till late but that she’d make supper with you. Don’t forget, I’m staying over at Tracey’s. You okay?”
“I was watching the news.”
“Pretty amazing, eh? If you believe it, that is.”
“You don’t?”
“Brad and I watched last night until Gram made us go to bed. Brad thinks she’s cool.”
“And you?”
“He’s just a kid. What does he know?”
“Tia!”
“Come on Dad. She can’t be real. It’s just some kind of gimmick.” She kissed him goodbye with a “see ya tomorrow.”
“You’re probably right,” he said. But, in his heart, he knew otherwise.
*
Elspeth watched, enthralled, but I didn’t need to see this. The whole world was captivated with M and that was just as it should be. But, this idiot? Obsessed with her? No way. She was mine. Mine!
“Oh,” Elspeth cooed. “That’s so sweet.”
Sweet?
“We should have more heart, up here,” Elspeth said.
“Are you nuts? That’s their problem. Damn weak hearts. If they’d use their heads, they wouldn’t be in such a mess.”
Chapter 12
Grinning and waving madly, boys pushed and jostled to be with François in front of the reporters and camera men. A burly man stared into the camera and blurted, “Words are not enough to describe the joy in my heart today. La madame des miracles has liberated our future. We owe her everything.”
“What my husband says is true,” the woman standing slightly behind him added. She hid the lower half of her face with her scarf and kept her eyes down. “Madame has saved us, saved our children.” By the time she finished speaking she still had her face half covered but had raised her eyes and was looking shyly into the camera.
“There is much work to be done and now we are free to do it,” her husband said.
Emboldened by the first two speakers, others spoke up. Their words came in a flood.
“She has made my dreams come true.”
“I can go back to school now.”
“We must not forget Fatma and Alyia. What they did took great courage.”
“You have taken the pictures. What do you think?”
“I am not a citizen. It is not my place to comment.”
“You protected Fatma and her children,” a woman said.
“You knew!?”
“We all knew,” a small boy told him gleefully.
“But, the Spinda?”
“They did not need to know everything.”
“Now, they are saying it is God’s will,” someone else in the crowd said.
“Who is saying this?” François asked.
“The Spinda who are brave enough—”
“Or stupid enough—”
“To be out tonight.” A whoop of laughter rose from the crowd.
“Durocher, tell the world that la madame des miracles has given us the chance to rebuild our country,” someone called out in English.
*
“I did that!?” M sank back on the sofa. “I did that?” It hardly seemed credible. Little things told her it was true; the flavor of Fatma’s bread that lingered on her tongue, the stench of burning hair and wool that invaded her nostrils, along with the bits of dirt and sand she’d had to dig out from under her fingernails. And the foreign words that came out of her mouth unbidden, startling her almost as much as they startled those around her.
But to think she had done it? To hear what people said about her? That was too much to live up to. “Eh, bien. Je regarderai plus les nouvelles.” Decision made, she turned off the TV. It would sit unwatched for many months.
*
Miracles…, madame…, madame of miracles…, miracle madame…, M…, M…, m…, em… I love you, Em. I love you, Em, I love you.
Jolted awake by the screaming siren of a police car shooting past the house, Ron wept. He had been with her, holding her, touching her…
A long cold shower later Ron was back at the TV.
Richard Peters, tie askew, suit rumpled, and dark circles under his eyes, still anchored the broadcast.
“We take you now to our panel of experts linked via satellite, who will attempt to answer some of the questions. One moment please.” He frowned as he fiddled with his earpiece.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have just received word that Madame was in South America today and left only moments ago.” Peters’ voice rose in excitement as he spoke. “We take you now to correspondent José Garcia.”
“Reports that la señora de los milagros has appointed an interim government and set a
date for democratic elections have just been confirmed by the rebel leaders. Information is sketchy at this time, but we have been assured that government offices will be open as early as tomorrow.”
It was time to make dinner but Ron couldn’t tear himself away from the television.
“Ah, there you are, dear. You must be hungry. Have you been in front of that TV all day?” At the sound of Gram’s soothing voice Ron rose awkwardly, muscles stiff and sore.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Is she real?”
“I certainly hope so. The world needs her.”
“The kids aren’t so sure. Tia says she’s a gimmick.”
“Their generation has grown up on too much media hype,” Gram said. “I, for one, intend to believe in Madame unless someone proves we shouldn’t.”
“Ah, Gram.” Ron sighed and enveloped her in a great bear hug.
*
Now, that Gram was a sensible woman. I liked her right away.
But Ron? How dare he love my Little Soldier and caress her, even in his dreams? My chest tightened and a surge of bile rose in my throat.
Chapter 13
Gram cleaned up after dinner while Ron listened to Peters introduce a panel of experts. Where, Ron wondered, would they find their answers; in religion or science or science-fiction or military intrigue?
“I heard bits of that from the kitchen.” Gram settled into a chair beside Ron. “Do they really think she’s an alien?”
Ron muted the commercial. “It’s all guesswork. Some guy named Saunders repeated what everyone already knows about UFO sightings, crop circles, and alien encounters.”
“I didn’t catch the all of the aircraft explanations. Sounded pretty technical.”
“It was, and in the end they came back to the fact that all eyewitnesses said she simply appeared. Commercial’s over. Let’s see what else they have to say.”
“Your research has taken you into the world of science-fiction writers. How many of those imaginings are in fact reality?”
“Ah, the question that piques our collective interest.” Dr. Patrick launched into detailed explanations of Terahertz cameras that could see through clothes, skin, and even walls without X-rays, and an invisibility cloak that bent electromagnetic waves such as light to travel around objects and returned them to their original paths. But, he acknowledged that he didn’t know of any developments that could explain Madame’s sudden appearances.
Peters asked about her apparent invincibility.