flourish.” He visibly relaxed.
“’The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heav’n of hell, a hell of heav’n,’1 ” Martin mumbled.
“What?” Kleider bellowed.
“Milton, Doctor,” Martin prefaced. “Do you not think that, given all the progress you have made, the finest universities would not be bidding among themselves to ensure an appointment for you? You would have state-of-the-science research facilities and a phalanx of post-docs to bring your work to fruition. Come back with me and …” Martin coaxed him.
“No! Absolutely not!” Kleider yelled at the top of his voice. “I’ve lived that lie for over 30 years, making Big Universities richer and perpetuating the Organization. My place is here. I will perfect this transformation here and then transfer it to people myself.”
Martin stared hard at the bedraggled, disheveled, determined and brilliant man in front of him. He knew further discussion on this subject was completely pointless.
“Alright, Dr. Hammonds. I will give you my word that I will not reveal anything about your research or your identity here on Ritman. However, I ask one thing in return,” Martin calmly responded.
“You are in no place to bargain, McMichaels,” Kleider began harshly but quickly subsided, placing the pistol on the ground. “Very well, I didn’t want to kill you anyway. What do you want?”
“I want your permission to take your wife and son with me back to my family on Beta Centauri-5,” Martin answered matter-of-factly.
There was silence for five seconds as the two men considered one another dispassionately.
“You may take Robert,” Kleider agreed. “And you may ask Jennah, but…” he hesitated for effect. “she will not go,” he responded emotionlessly. Then he turned and plodded haltingly to his underground laboratory. Martin surveyed the sterile and forbidding landscape for a few minutes, watching Kleider reach the elevator to descend to his subterranean keep.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“Lothar phoned me,” Jennah began as she and Robert reached Martin and Jonathan. “I have Robert’s things here, ready.” It was 2 p.m. and the first time he had seen her since their conversation the night before.
“Why don’t you two run off and get in some last-minute playing?” Martin cheerfully said to the boys. He turned to Jennah.
“I also received permission to ask you to come with us to BC-5,” Martin began softly
“I can’t go,” Jennah cut him off. She looked down at her sandaled feet, her light-brown hair dangling in front of her thin, flushed face.
“Why not?” Martin pursued. “Your son will be there. I guarantee you would be among caring and loving people, including my family and,” he inexplicably hesitated, “ me. It’s not Kruger, but there is a nascent research facility there that could use your…”
“No, Martin,” she calmly but forcefully interrupted him. “I musn’t…” she hesitated, “I can’t go.” She looked up at him, imploring him with her tearing eyes.
“Jennah, Kleider can’t provide for you or look after you here. And I can’t let you stay here in this dangerous situation.”
“Can’t, Martin?” she challenged him. “Or won’t?”
It was only then Martin realized the boundary and its dangerous proximity. Getting this vulnerable and beautiful woman far from her madman husband was what he had wanted -- but that’s not what God wanted. His face burned crimson.
“I did a lot of thinking last night after we spoke. I read your micro-dot material. I understand what Jesus was saying – that our preferences, our desires, our obstinacy are what stand in the way of our redemption as human beings. All that was an impediment to my following Him. I prayed that God would accept me as a too-proud and sinful Believer – and one that would actively live instead of passively follow.” She paused. Martin stared down at his feet, ashamed he had lost sight of what Jennah had so movingly discovered herself.
“Martin, Martin,” she continued, nervously gripping and slowing turning her hands, “If you had not the passions of your beliefs and your concern for individuals, I doubt if I would have ever understood these things. And now my son can live in a very positive environment. And I can share these things with my husband.”
“And there’s something else,” she wrinkled her forehead and stared at the black ground between them. “I confess I saw a lot of Brad in you – and my somewhat happier past.” Momentarily Martin looked up to see her biting her lip and forcing her eyes shut. She breathed deeply. “That made things difficult for us both I think.” She blotted tears with one finger.
Martin raised his head and smiled. “I am very happy for you and for the Kingdom that one such as yourself has entered it,” he recovered and responded, taking her hands in his for a moment.
“Besides,” she gratefully and cheerfully acknowledged, “I’ll be coming to BC-5 to see Robert and all of you there.”
He felt she knew that was a lie.
The boys were angling back to the landing zone, and the DS Limited shuttle was descending in a lazy arc.
“She is a very fortunate woman,” Jennah said as they waited, surveying his face with her engaging eyes. “Your wife, I mean.”
“And I am a very fortunate husband,” Martin replied softly, with a newfound humility and keen realization that he wanted Deborah to accompany him on any such trips in the future.
She hugged Robert tightly, holding him several minutes in keeping with a voyage that might have no end. Then he was off with Jonathan into the shuttle, waving to his mother through a window.
Martin approached Jennah.
“Here,” he said, producing a 5 centimeter-square device and handing it to her. “If you need anything at all, activate this and send a message. It will follow the available wormhole frequencies and ring on my desk. We’ll get someone to you as quickly as we can. Is it a deal?” Martin smiled.
“Done.” She returned the smile, took the device, leaned, and kissed him on the cheek. She then backed away to wave to the boys.
Without hesitation, Martin shouldered his duffel and strode quickly onto the shuttle; its hatch door closed immediately
“Ready on your order, Dr. McMichaels,” the shuttle chief said.
“Let’s get out of here now, Chief,” Martin solemnly intoned, scowling at the shuttle floor.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
One month, three days later the device rang – loudly. He bolted at the surprise of a long-somnolent machine erupting with alarm. He grabbed at it on the right corner of his desk, and instinctively pressed the display button.
“Need assistance if possible. Give my love to all. Jennah”
Without hesitation, Martin depressed the Deep-Space Emergency Response button on his desk.
“This is Martin McMichaels – 27389SK1 – I need to speak to the ready room ASAP.” There was a two second delay in confirming his identity.
“Ready room. This is Blakely.”
“Blakely, this is Martin McMichaels. Please identify the closest DS Limited spacecraft to Ritman’s Planet and divert it to that planet ASAP. This is a personnel rescue situation.” Martin had anticipated the requisite information the ready room would need.
“Hold one, sir.”
There was a ten second delay.
“Sir, the closest DS Limited ship is Excelsior, approximately six hours away at maximum speed.”
“Good. On my authorization, order Excelsior to divert from its planned course, proceed at maximum speed to Ritman’s Planet, and rescue Dr. Jennah Kleider and possibly Dr. Lothar Kleider, her husband. Please advise when this is accomplished.”
“Roger, sir,” Blakely confirmed.
“And, Blakely, keep me informed of progress and any other related information – anytime of the day or night,” Martin concluded.
“Roger, sir,” Blakely ended and hung up.
Martin rolled the chair back from his desk and leaned o
n the desktop, stretching and staring down at the floor and his feet.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
At 9:26 that night, his desk communicator buzzed. Martin picked it up instantaneously.
“Dr. McMichaels?” Blakely asked.
“This is he, Blakely. Go ahead.”
“Sir, Excelsior has just reported that it is picking up severe gravitational waves emanating from the vicinity of Ritman’s Planet. The captain of Excelsior has concluded that these indicate a complete planetary break-up.” There was silence. For all his dire warnings to Kleider, Martin was incredulous, disbelieving.
“Dr. McMichaels, do you copy that, sir?”
“Yes, yes,” Martin gasped. “Is he certain?”
“Sir, the captain also reports heavy debris signals, supportive of very small planetary material where the planet once was.”
“Very well, Blakely. Thank you,” Martin struggled.
“Will there be any further orders, sir?”
“No, other than to have Excelsior return to its original course. And give my thanks to the captain and the crew. Thank you, Blakely.”
“Roger, sir.”
Martin drew his chair tight against the desk to warm his chilled body, thrust his elbows on top, and engulfed his lunging head with large, now pallid hands. As he personally grieved, his mind raced with possible sentences, tones, turns of phrases, some kind of fitting explanation for Jennah’s son, whom he would now visit.
But why at this time was he bedeviled with such a quotation, unwelcomingly arising from some long-ago memorization?
Overcoming