The Orthogonal Galaxy
Chapter 24

It took months for Paol and Blade to feelcomfortable with their new routine. Going from the prison to astronaut training was like night and day. They found themselves exhausted beforebreakfast due to the torturous workout of their personal trainers, but that wasjust the beginning, of course. Flightsimulation required intense focus and reflexes, while the barrage of courseworktook every last bit of energy.

Naturally, they looked forward to the weekends,where they could catch up on rest, and more casually work through theirphysical routines and their memorization and study. But the weekends just never seemed longenough. Muscles were sore when the alarmwent off on Monday morning. Eyes werebloodshot from reading their iTexts and flash cards. Headaches seemed as if they were simplytrying to stretch their brains faster than they could absorb it all. As a result, they were thrilled to hear oftheir first flight field trip. Theirflight instructors would be escorting them to Nevada, where a range ofin-flight tests would take place. Theywould eventually need to log hundreds of hours of flight experience before theycould even be considered as astronaut candidates. The week-long trip was intended to give themthe first couple of dozen hours under their belt.

At an abandoned Air Force base in central Nevada,the two students felt like visitors to a military ghost town. The teachers, however, were familiar with thelocation and knew that it had the best conditions for flying. The weather was typically sunny and strongwinds didn’t normally occur, but if they did, they typically occurred aroundsunset, when the instructors wanted new pupils out of the air anyway, since thelonger shadows could deceive pilots flying at near-mach speeds.

Physon waited for Blade with the flightinstructors on the tarmac during a particularly dry, hot day. His olive green flight suit simply did notbreath well, and he sweltered inside as evidenced by the sweat beading up onhis forehead just under the raised visor. As Blade came rushing out of the barracks making the final adjustmentson his flight suit, Physon rolled his eyes.

“Sorry there, Gents,” Blade said gasping forbreath. “These duds is harder to adjustthan I thought they’d be.” Blade grabbedat his crotch. “And awful uncomf’abletoo.”

Blade’s flight instructor couldn’t resist theopportunity to mess with his pupil. “Youthink these are bad. Just wait to seehow bad you chafe after spending a few years in that spacesuit.”

Blade’s eyes grew as big a golf balls, while Paolsmiled widely at the gesture, and queried Blade’s instructor, “So, Arjen. I don’t remember seeing the hand gesture forgrabbing yourself. Should we havepracticed that in the simulator so we know how to adjust for it out here?”

Playing along, Arjen responded, “There was neveran intended gesture, but the computer misinterpreted it occasionally as a divemaneuver, so we had to reprogram the dive signal to prevent it from happeningagain after the last accident.”

“Accident?” Blade leaned closer, his faceglistening with sweat, mostly from the heat, but partly because of the anxietyof his first solo flight.

“Yeah, we couldn’t figure it out for the longest,but after collecting enough data from the black boxes, we finally piecedtogether what was going wrong. Why, evenMetch here had a nearly fatal moment while adjusting himself.”

Arjen gestured to Paol’s flight instructor, whoshrugged his shoulder and tipped his head in affirmation. “It can happen to the best of us.”

“That does it!” Blade spat. “Take me back to prison. This ain’t gonna work out!”

“Now, Blade,” said Arjen. “I’m just kidding about the accident.”

“I know that,” said Blade. “That’s not why I’m callin’ it quits. This monkey suit is so hot and uncomf’ablethat I’d rather crash and burn than to stay inside it fo’ ‘nother minute.”

“Let’s get you up in the plane, Blade. It’ll be better when you get out of thisheat.” Arjen’s former playful voice wastransformed into a tone of serious business.

The XJ-20 experts walked their students throughvehicle and suit inspections, instructed the new pilots to climb into theircockpits, drop their visors, and buckle themselves in to the seat. The pair of instructors then returned to anair conditioned building and put on communication headsets as each sat at anoverride control terminal which the instructor could use to gain control of theaircraft should either student make a mistake in flight.

Paol and Blade turned on his headset and waitedfor instructions, as they sat side-by-side on the tarmac. They made eye contact with each other alongthe way, when Paol gave a thumbs-up to his colleague across the way. Blade nodded his head slightly and bared hiswhite teeth through a forced smile. Hewas extremely nervous about his first flight, but he was comforted in knowingthat he’d be up in the air with his good friend. He took a deep breath realizing that thatthere was a safety net sitting at a control panel on the ground below.

“XJ-1, do you copy?” came the voice over thecommunication channel.

“Roger, Ground 1,” replied Paol.

Another voice repeated the question. “XJ-2, do you copy?”

“Yes, sir!” Blade attempted to exude confidencein his response, but his voice crackled dryly.

“XJ-1, initiate startup sequencing.”

Paol engaged his HOC, turned on the main powersupply, and waved his hands in the proper gesture to engage ignition. He heard a soft rapid clicking noise and ahigh-pitch whistle that grew higher until it was out of audio range. The jets kicked in, and Paol confirmed thatall systems checked.

Similar displays indicated successful startup inthe control room as well.

“XJ-1, please confirm startup.”

“Startup successful, Ground 1.”

“XJ-2, initiate startup sequencing.”

“Roger, Ground 2.” This time Blade’s voice wasall business. While his hands trembledslightly, he was focused and ready to fly. “Startup successful, Ground 2.”

“XJ-1, you will take-off on runway 3. Please proceed to runway.”

“I’m on my way, Ground 1.”

“XJ-2, please proceed to runway 1.”

“Roger, Ground 2.”

The planes proceeded in parallel away from thebuildings and as the pair started for their respective runways, the pilots gaveeach other some final encouragement.

“Good luck, XJ-2,” Paol spoke.

“See ya’ back on the ground soon, XJ-1.”

After taxiing to the end of their respectiverunways, the new pilots waiting for their next instruction. Paol glanced down the long runway, distortedby the heat waves rising from the black asphalt. Blade looked to the stillness of the blue skyand then glanced to his right and strained to see his companion across the way. The distance was too great to see more than adark silhouette in the cockpit of the adjacent airplane.

“XJ-1, XJ-2. You are both cleared for takeoff. Proceed when ready.”

Paol and Blade responded affirmatively. Paol engaged the throttle first, and Bladefollowed soon behind. Superheated gasemerged from the engines of the airplanes as the flight instructors watched theplanes amble down their respective runways while glancing back at the cockpitvideo on their control terminals to make sure that the advance of each pilotwas successful for takeoff.

Paol’s visor display indicated full speed, andwith his left hand he slightly curled his fingers skyward. A smooth motion ensued as the aircraft nudgedits way off the ground and into the air. Within moments, Blade’s aircraft roared off the runway and into the skyas well. The flight instructors couldhear the roar of the engines for a couple of minutes. Within ten minutes, the binoculars of the instructorsbecame useless. They switched off theirheadsets and conversed.

“Not bad for a first takeoff, huh?”

“Yeah. Isaw a little veering down the runway from Blade, but he was pretty steady inthe air.”

“I always remember my first time when I see thesenewbies lifting off. It was so mucheasier than I feared.”

“Yeah, I expect these guys to be pretty excitedwhen they get back. After getting thefirst flight under the belt, you can’t help wanting to get back up there. It’s just plain addicting.”

Once in the air, Blade and Paol separatedthemselves as instructed gaining sufficient altitude to do some free maneuvers. This helped them gain a feeling for the realaircraft instead of the simulator back in Houston. While Blade continued heading north, Paolveered off to the east.

Blade watched the four blue flames of Paol’s jetengines propel him away. “XJ-1, this isXJ-2. Where ya’ takin’ that bird ofyers?” he inquired.

“I think I’ll head over to the Great SaltLake. It should be interesting to seethe salt flats from high in the sky.”

“Uh… is it ok to fly there?” The tone of Blade’s voice made the statementsound half like a question, and half like a reprimand.

“We can fly anywhere we want, XJ-2… as long as wehave enough gas to return home.”

“Ground 2, is this true? Are we allowed to fly anywheres? There ain’t no restricted air space fer us?”

“Affirmative, XJ-2. Your display will warn you if you areconverging on any other aircraft in the vicinity, in which case you will beable to take evasive maneuvers quickly enough.”

“I’m just surprised that astronaut candidates areallowed to fly with no restrictions.”

“XJ-2. Youare not quite at astronaut candidate status yet, but your status as preparationfor the Earth2 mission gives you permission to do just about anything youwant.”

A smile came on Blade’s face as he let his leftarm extend outward to indicate a hard left bank. Arjen sat forward in his seat perplexed bythe sudden hard change in course, while Paol’s instructor, noticing themovement glanced away from his cockpit display with concern.

“What’s wrong, Arjen?”

His concern was answered with a raised handgesture from Blade’s flight instructor. “XJ-2, you are engaged in a vastly sudden change in course heading. Is everything ok?”

“Never better, Ground 2.”

Growing more direct, Arjen probed. “Where are you heading, XJ-2?”

“Well, I always wanted to see Vegas. I’m headin’ to Las Vegas, Ground 2.”

Arjen sat back in a seat shaking his head andsmiling at Blade’s playful exuberance. “That’s a negative, XJ-2. Thereis heavy air congestion in Southern Nevada—not recommended for a first flight.”

“Ground 2. D’ya not just say I could goes anywhere I want?”

Arjen’s smile evaporated while Metch startedsnickering at his partner’s sudden dismay.

“That is true, XJ-2. But I don’t recommend going there on a firstflight. There will be plenty of time todo a fly-by of the Strip.”

“So why’s it ok fo’ Paol to head to Salt LakeCity—that airport’s much busier than Vegas, ain’t it? Nah—I’m headin’ to Vegas, Arjen. See ya’ in a couple of hours.”

“XJ-2,” said Metch now, trying to composehimself. “This is Ground 1.”

“Go ‘head, Ground 1.”

“Put twenty on the roulette wheel for me, wouldyou?”

Blade and Metch enjoyed a hearty laugh, whileArjen still disapproved of Blade’s joy ride.

“Paol, can you talk some sense into yourpartner?” Arjen asked sincerely.

“Hey, Blade,” called Paol.

“Yeah.”

“I think Arjen is right. Why don’t you choose a differentlocation? Maybe you could spot a moviestar in Hollywood.”

Arjen’s eyes grew wide at the thought. “NO… no… Las Vegas is just fine, XJ-2.”

Laughter filled three of the headsetssimultaneously. Ground 2 had become thebutt of the joke, but it was all in good humor, and spirits continued to flyhigh as the two aircraft vectored off in opposite directions—Paol flyingnortheast to the Bonneville Salt Flats, and Blade venturing southwest towardsLas Vegas.

“Just remember,” added Arjen. “You have to stay within 100 miles of theborder, or else you’ll get tagged by law enforcement. My orders are clear—I will override if youget too close.”

“Roger that, Ground 2!” The response from Blade was filled withexcitement as he peered towards the south keeping an eye out for Las Vegas.

The next five minutes passed in relativesilence. Blade and Paol continued toacquaint themselves with some of the responses to various hand gestures, butthere were no significant stunts performed. Arjen and Metch continued to monitor the progress of their pupils, butall was calm, until a voice rang out over the headset.

“Ground 1, why am I seeing—”

Metch leaned forward in his chair and breathed anexpletive.

“What happened?” As soon as he asked, he realized that the answer was an obviousone. The cockpit display for Paol’s XJaircraft went immediately dark.

“XJ-1, do you copy? This is Ground 1. I’ve lost your display. Please respond.”

The silence grew more disturbing with eachpassing moment.

“XJ-1, do you copy?”

“XJ-2, this is Ground 1. Do you copy?”

“Yes, I do, Ground 1.”

“Can you identify XJ-1’s location?”

“Negative, Ground 1. XJ-1 is not on my radar.”

“XJ-2, can you proceed to a heading of 175degrees?” The request was moot, as Bladehad already performed a hard bank. Withhis display focused on the last known location of Paol’s jet, Blade abandonedhis trip to Las Vegas, and began pursuing after Paol. After pulling out of the bank, Blade gave thesignal for rapid acceleration. His bodywas pegged to the seat as the fire of the engines thrust the aircraft forwardwith violent force.

“Not so fast, please, XJ-2,” implored Arjen. “There is no reason to jeopardize your ownsafety over what is probably just a communication glitch.”

There was no response from Blade, as he continuedto accelerate.

“Blade, I can take over control of youraircraft. Please throttle back onacceleration. I doubt there’s anythingto worry about.”

“What if there is?”

“Then there’s nothing you’ll be able to do aboutit anyway. You can’t exactly pull upbeside Paol and offer him a ride, you know?”

Blade’s acceleration continued.

“Blade, listen to reason, please.”

Just as Arjen was about to take over thecontrols, he noticed that Blade’s acceleration was dropping. His speed leveled out.

“This ok, Ground 2?” Blade asked simply, yet dejectedly.

“Just fine, Blade. I understand that you are worried. At your current speed, you should at least beat his last known position in about five minutes. Keep an eye out in case he has turned hisaircraft back towards the base, ok?”

“Roger.” Blade’s responses were automatic, as he focused all of his efforts onthe manual pilot of his aircraft. Hiseyes strained to look for Paol in the distance, but for several minutes, he sawnothing but the horizon defined by the indigo sky above and the auburn terrainbelow.

Eventually, a wispy gray line was discerned inthe cloudless sky.

“Ground 2, I think I might be seein’ his trail.”

“Keep us posted, XJ-2.”

Within a couple of minutes, Blade was able to seea wavy gray cloud of smoke already starting to dissipate in the breeze.

Following the line to its end, Blade roared intohis headset. “He’s down. XJ-1’s down.”

“XJ-2, can you give us coordinates. We’ll contact emergency personnel and localrescue operations as quickly as possible.”

Blade peered down at the mountainous terrainwhere smoke continued to obscure the crash site. An occasional flame pierced the gray and blackcloud of smoke, while his attention was captured by an occasional glint ofsunlight reflecting off of metal pieces scattered on the ground.

Breathing heavily, Blade’s voice cracked into hisheadset, “Ground control, I’ve locked on the coordinates of the crashsite. Latitude 40.584, Longitude-115.407.” It’s ‘bout 500 feet below asteep mountain ridge.”

Metch was already on the phone with the AirForce, who promised to contact local emergency support and dispatch ahelicopter from Hill Air Force Base in Ogden, Utah.

Arjen continued to communicate with Blade, asMetch relayed developing information.

“Blade, based on your description of the crashsite and the plume of smoke leading up to it, I have every reason to believethat Paol would’ve had enough time to eject safely. He must’ve had at least three to four minutesfrom first incident to impact. Can youcruise above Paol’s last known altitude and hunt for a parachute?”

“Roger, Ground 2. I will continue to circle the area until I spot him or run outta fuel.”

Blade circled to his left, then to his right, hecriss-crossed large sections of the mountain range and the foothills below, allwhile maintaining rapt vigilance on the terrain below him. Hi His eyes focused intently on thesurroundings, looking for any sign of Paol’s parachute, or any sign of humanactivity at all for that matter. Thiswas a very remote section of the mountain range, and while he could see a fewroads penetrating the range from the west, they all ended well before the crashsite, where the terrain was steep and rocky with dense thickets of evergreenbarring the way to the cirque where Paol’s plane continued to smolder.

Occasionally, Blade would mutter under his breathso that he couldn’t be heard over the headset. “C’mon, Paol… where ya’ at? Whycan’t I spot no parachutes. It’s been ahalf hour already. He should’a sent up aflare by now fo’ cryin’ out loud.”

As Blade continued scouring the landscape for hiscolleague, he discovered something about himself that surprised him. Not since the botched robbery attempt backhome had he been under such stress and concern. During those youthful years, where each mistake compounded the effectsof the previous, he had plenty of time to replay the scenario over and over inhis concrete cell. He realized thatpanic was his worst enemy in that scenario, and it cost him dearly.

But now that was all different. Why was he able to maintain focus andcomposure? As the minutes passed, hefound that he felt the stress of the scenario, but none of the panic orfear. He realized both mentally andemotionally that panic would not serve him here that there was nothing he coulddo to change the past. He realized thatPaol was beyond his help, except that he could continue to search and relay hisposition to rescue teams had he parachuted safely before the plane slammed intothe side of the mountain. As he glancedtowards the western horizon and watched the Sun lowering in the sky, herealized that time was running out on replaceing his partner before the day wasover, and yet he knew that it would serve no purpose to worry over thecircumstances. He simply needed toutilize every last bit of time available to him searching instead of panicking.

“XJ-2, this is Ground 2, do you copy?” It had been the first time in nearly an hourthat Blade had been distracted by his flight instructor.

“Yeah, I’m still here, Arjen.”

“XJ-2, you are running low on fuel. Please return to base.”

Blade’s response surprised himself again. “Ground 2. It looks like I can lower my altitude gradually to 18000 feet and buymyself another fifteen minutes of search time safely, as long as my descentback to the base is also sufficiently gradual.” Blade was surprised simply because he expected to have been agitated bythe order to return to base and shout a stream of expletives for being asked toleave his companion helpless. His calm,calculated response was as surprising to himself as it was to Arjen.

The response from ground control was notimmediate. Blade figured that Arjen andMetch were consulting, but that did not bother him. He welcomed the pause for every precioussecond of searching.

After a minute, Arjen’s voice crackled over theheadset again. “Blade, we can give youten minutes, and then I will have to take over control to bring you homesafely.”

“No need, Ground 2.” What more could he do? It would do no good to waste his timearguing only to have Arjen take over the controls of his airplane anyway. He repeated: “No need… I accept the ten…”

His voice trailed off as his eyes grew wide withshock. At first, he couldn’t believe hiseyes. Blinking a few times, he tried torefocus his eyes to the north, where he saw a pillar of yellow-gray smoke risein the sky at a curved angle. Aflare! Could it be Paol? No, it was too far to the north! Surely, he would not have floated that faraway from the trajectory of the aircraft. Either way, he had to hope beyond hope, and he banked his XJ-20 to thenorth to investigate the source.

“XJ-2, I didn’t copy on that last response,” Ahint of concern was apparent in Arjen’s voice.

“Sorry, Ground 2. I’m headin’ north to investigate a flare.”

“Did you say flare, XJ-2?”

“Yes, sir! A flare!”

Blade dipped to an altitude of 12000 feet, about3000 feet above ground level. He wasdetermined to get one good look at the source of that flare. He wanted to make sure that it was Paol andnot some distressed outdoorsman.

As he spotted the blue-white parachute draped onthe branches of a towering cottonwood tree, his relief was immediate. Heaving a deep sign, Blade smiled fully asrecognition dawned on him. Flyingdirectly over the site of the parachute, he could just make out a human shapein the olive green suite about fifty feet away from where the tangled parachuteperched.

“Ground 2, I have a positive ID on Joonter. Please point rescue crews to a visibleparachute near latitude 40.672, longitude -115.380 fo’ recovery.”

“Will do, XJ-2. Please return to base.”

“Yes, sir,” affirmed a jubilant voice from thecockpit of the surviving XJ-20 aircraft. In one last burst, Blade banked hard into a corkscrew pattern andslammed his thrusters after coming out of the maneuver. It was his way of telling Paol both visuallyand audibly that help was on the way.

…

The embrace was joyous and painful—joyous forBlade, but painful for Paol. Afterhearing a low grunt, Blade released his grasp on his companion.

“What’s wrong?” Blade asked.

“Bruised ribs.” Paol wheezed and coughed softly,so as to not aggravate the condition.

“So sorry, Paol… I’d no idea.”

Paol returned to his hospital bed and sat downsoftly. He lifted his legs onto the bedand reclined back. The head was tiltedup so that he could relax while talking to Blade. Blade grabbed a seat and pulled it close tothe bed.

“How hurt are ya’, Paol?”

“Not bad, really—just a couple of bruised ribswhen I slammed into the tree, and a twisted ankle from the fall to the groundafter cutting myself out of the tangled parachute.”

“You hit the tree that hard? From what I recall, there wasn’t many treesin that landscape. D’ya mean to say ya’couldn’t’a landed on the ground?”

Blade shrugged his shoulders inembarrassment. “The wind was reallysweeping me along, and I just couldn’t seem to get down before those trees flewup at me. So I hit the tree, crashingthrough the branches and took a six-inch thick branch right in my side.”

Blade winced to acknowledge the pain. “That must’a been awful.”

“That wasn’t even the worst part. So there I am dangling about 30 feet off theground in a spaghetti of ropes and canvas.”

Blade’s eyes grew wide at the thought of Paol’spredicament. “How’d ya’ get outta there?”

“Well, I just dangled there for a few minutes inorder to collect my thoughts and my breath. The adrenaline of ejecting and parachuting took its toll on anyintelligent thought process. As my heartsettled down, I knew that my best option was to release my chute straps andwork my way down the tree. So I workedmy way out of most of the harness and swung myself up to the branch that I hadhit. It was strong enough to support myweight, so I worked the remainder of the harness off, but only then did Irealize that my waist and legs were hopelessly tangled in cords. I reached the chute’s survival pack, andunzipped the main compartment. I grabbedthe knife and cut myself loose. Then Icut the pack away from its cords and threw it and the knife to the ground.

“I will say that it took some thought to workmyself off of that branch, but one by one, I lowered myself to other branchesuntil I ran out of room and had to eventually drop the last fifteen feet to theground. I grabbed everything else up andventured away from the clump of trees in order to launch the flare out to thewest, hoping somebody in the valley below the mountains would catch aglimpse. I heard your plane off in thedistance, so I figured it was somebody looking for me too.”

Paol stopped to take a couple of shallowbreaths. He would’ve preferred tobreathe deeply, except for the jolts of pain that shot through his side andback.

Blade took advantage of the break and asked,“How’d ya’ end up so far away? I waslookin’ fer ya’, but I never thought to go that many miles away until I spottedthe flare.”

“The seat ejects with more velocity than Iexpected it to. I know it has to clearthe craft, but because I was already tilted at an angle, it shot me to thenorth like a cannonball. From there, thewind continued to push me farther away.”

Blade couldn’t imagine what horror this allmust’ve been to Paol. He shook his head and gathered himself for the nextquestion. “So what happened up there,Paol? What went wrong with the plane?”

“I’m notreally sure. I got a warning alarm onengine two, and when I looked back, I could see thick, black smoke coming fromunder the wing. I couldn’t see where itstarted. But the plane started to veerto the left. I tried to correct it, andit almost seemed to work, but then I heard and felt a large jolt, and the planecontinued rolling to the left again. Thenose also started to pitch downward. I’mashamed to admit that I started to panic, after I heard no response from GroundControl. I couldn’t figure out why Metchdidn’t talk to me, or take over controls directly.”

“He couldn’t, Blade. He lost comm with you. He said it was total blackness.”

“Well, there I was all alone, and panic wassetting in. I couldn’t rememberemergency procedures, was straining to recall hand gestures of any sort, so Iwas completely at the plane’s mercy. Theplane had probably rolled about 40 degrees to the left or so, when a memorycame racing back to me—a memory that saved me, but it didn’t come from flightinstruction. It came from lunch. Lunch saved my life.”

“Lunch?” Blade snorted. “How on earth didlunch save yer life?”

Paol showed Blade his middle fingers with asmile.

An expression of recognition appeared on Blade’sface. “You mean…”

“Yep, the middle fingers.”

…

Blade returned to Johnson while Paol spent twomore days at Hill Air Force Base, recovering from his injuries. Both were given the time as leave from alltraining in order to recuperate. Duringthat time, Blade spent many hours in his room, reviewing the accident. Nightmares consisted of vivid descriptions ofthe crash scene, and a couple of times, he saw in his dream Paol’s lifeless bodylying next to the smoldering debris.

“I can’t do this…” he would say to himself. “How can we possibly reach Earth2, when wecouldn’t make it across Nevada… Thisreally is suicide… All of the astronautswere right… This is just nuts.”

Through his discouragement, he had decided thathe couldn’t go on. Gilroy gave the pairan extra week to recover. Paol did hisbest to get Blade to talk, to work through the issues, but Blade grew moreinward emotionally. Paol triedeverything, and with one last idea, he made an inquiry to Gilroy.

“There is one person who might be able to talksome sense into him,” Paol shared with the program director.

Gilroy listened intently.

“He speaks highly of his uncle—he was Blade’sonly role model when growing up… the one person he looks up to even today, andregrets not listening to when he had the chance.”

“Where can I replace him?”

“I don’t know. Blade lost contact with his uncle many years ago, but I know his nameand where he was last known to live.”

“We’ll replace him,” Gilroy promised. “We’ve spent too much money on this project,and we can’t let it fail now.”

…

Blade received a knock on his door, but didn’tanswer. Paol opened the door slightly,and called in to the darkened room to his partner, who acknowledged him with agrunt.

“Blade, I have somebody here who would like tosee you.”

Another grunt—this one his last, as the dooropened, and he instantly recognized the figure standing there. Quickly, he rose from his seat. “Is it—is it you?”

“Thomas.”

Tears formed in Blade’s eyes and began to rolldown his cheeks. Choking back sobs, hefell into his uncles arms as the two enjoyed a long-missed embrace.

As Blade released his grasp, he spoke with acrackle. “Uncle Jes, how’d ya’ come tosee me here.”

Looking at Paol, Blade’s uncle replied. “Let’s just say that you have a good friendthat wanted to reunite a long-lost relationship.”

Blade looked curiously at Paol. “Why—how’d ya’ ever replace him—I tried to mailhim that letter after we come here, but it wasn’t delivered.”

“Well, Blade,” answered Paol. “The federal government seems to do a goodjob at replaceing people who need to be found.”

Blade nodded, understanding that Paol had pulledsome strings, and wondered how many federal organizations needed to be employedin the search.

“I’m going to let you two catch up,” Paol said,excusing himself from the room. Bladejust stared at his uncle with great excitement, as he heard Paol’s footstepsdown the hall.

“Where’s my manners? Do come in,” Blade said. “It’s not exactly the biggest place fo’entertainin’.”

Jes nodded approvingly. “Actually, it looks like you’re moving up inthe world.” A knowing smile was offered,and a hearty laugh ensued as Blade quickly understood the reference to hisprison cell.

After exchanging some pleasant memories, Jesbrought Blade up-to-speed on his life. After losing his job, he moved to a small town south of Atlanta,claiming that he always wanted to get out of the big city. He got a job as a mechanic and has enjoyedthe small-town lifestyle ever since.

“As for you,” Jes changed the subject. “Not much catching up needed. I know everything about you, Blade. The media’s published just about everythingexcept your auto-biography.”

Blade chuckled softly. “Well, that’d be tough, Uncle, seein’ how I have to write my auto-biography.”

“That’s the point—if they could figure out a wayto do so, I reckon they’d do it too.” Jes flashed a wide smile of pride at his nephew.

“Blade—” The tone was clear. Blade knewwhat his uncle was going to say. It wasthe whole reason for his being here. “Iunderstand you’re thinking about giving up this opportunity.”

“I can’t do it, Uncle—it’s just suicide.”

“Really? It doesn’t look like you’re dead yet to me. In fact, it looks like you’re doing quitewell. This environment suits youwell. You look better than ever, Blade.”

“When I saw my good friend’s plane on the groundengulfed in flames—well, I guess I’m ‘fraid, Uncle.”

“Afraid of dying?”

“Maybe I’m ‘fraid of dyin’, maybe I’m ‘fraid offailin’… and Paol’s got a family and all—if he don’t make it back safely—”

“Well, then. Why don’t you just make sure he makes it back safely? You’ve already done that once by helpingrescue him after the crash.”

“I can’t make a promise that I can’tguarantee. The odds are stacked againstus, and there’s too many things outta my control. Millions of things could go wrong, Jes.”

“But it only takes one thing to go right,Blade—the one thing you said ‘yes’ to. The mission just might succeed. Have you considered that?”

“Oh, I dream it up occasionally, but it don’tseem as real as the nightmares of how it might just as easily end.”

Jes heaved a burdened sigh. “Your momma is so proud of you, Blade.”

Blade sat upright at the reference to his mother.

“She talks of you all the time—how she knew youhad greatness in you from when you was born. You know, Blade, the only reason she stopped seeing you was because shecouldn’t bear to see you locked up like that.”

“I know that,” Blade whispered.

“And she was real worried, Blade—real worried—thather tears only made it worse on you.”

“They did.”

“I hope you never for one day thought that shedidn’t love you after those visits stopped.”

“No, sir. I always knew. She never told menohow, but I always knew.”

Jes looked deeply into his nephews eyes, as hesaw him gaze off into the distance. Tears began to flow again. “I’lldo it.”

Jes leaned forward in his chair. “Do what, Blade?”

“I’ll go on with the mission. I won’t break her heart again, Uncle—I won’tdo it anymo’.”