The Lazarus Particle (49 page)

The pilot laid Fenton upon the deck for the approaching medics. He was so pale as to be virtually translucent. His whole circulatory system and vital organs were visible beneath the waxy pallor of his flesh. His hair, his skin, even his eyes—everything was bleach white. To all appearances he was dead on arrival. The medics said the same after a cursory examination.

Roon arrived just then, pushing through the crowd to kneel at his side. “Oh, Fenton,” she mewled. She lifted his hand, holding it against her cheek. “Fenton, Fenton, Fenton…”

Fenton’s eyelids flipped open. For a moment, the color returned to his eyes. Several of those who witnessed the scene gasped and recoiled in surprise. Not Roon. She held his hand close to her cheek and smiled.

“Roon,” he said, his voice thin as tissue paper. “I saw it all, Roon. The other side. Everything I’ve ever wanted to see. It was so beautiful, so complex. And so, so terrifying.” The color drained from his eyes once more. With it went what little light was left within them. “You’ll see. Soon you’ll all see.”

When he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper.

“Please,” he rasped mournfully. “Forgive me.”

EPILOGUE I

The reading of the names took over two days.
 

By an act of poignant serendipity, Fenton’s was the final one to be called.

Afterward, a small contingent of friends and those he would have considered family excused themselves from the main service to privately lay the man to rest.

They chose a site on Shih’ra beneath what was already a massive, flowering
lasaka
tree overlooking a wide, grassy prairie. It seemed a fitting spot. The elegant symmetry of the
lasakas
’ many braided branches had appealed to Fenton. The way the wind shook the grasses gave the place a sense of life everlasting. As Roon mounted the small dais before the base of the tree, one of those same winds rolled up and through the branches above, shaking loose a soft rain of silvery pink flower petals upon the mourners gathered below.

Roon paused to look up as the first of the silky petals spun lazy, pinwheeling circles on the way to the dais. Breathing deeply of the passing breeze, she mouthed, “
Thank you
.”

She was the picture of poise and grace as she began her eulogy. She spoke strongly, lovingly, her voice never so much as faltering or cracking.

“We have gathered here today to say goodbye to our friend and brother, Major Fenton James Wilkes,” she began. “Fenton and I began our journey as strangers; together, we ended it a union of souls. I’ll always cherish the time I spent with Fenton. I think all of us who knew him will. He proved that one man can make a difference, so long as that one man is brave enough to pursue the courage of his convictions. In that way he challenged us not as people, but as individuals, to do better, to
be
better. He genuinely abhorred the loss of life in any form, just as we here abhor the loss of his. Yet, like him, we will use that loss not to fuel our enmity toward those with whom we do not agree or understand. Like him, we will use it to light the path toward his vision of peace and reclamation for all.

“Thank you all for coming. Your presence here means the world, literally this world, to me.” Out of respect, she bowed her head for a moment of silence.

As they began to break camp, Dell stood up on impulse. “My name is Wing Commander Dell DeCoud, Red Wing,
Liberator
. I owe my life and every happiness I have to Major Wilkes. He was a great man and an even better friend. I’ll never forget him.”

“Wingman First Class Ohana Cassel, Red Wing,
Liberator
. I didn’t know Fenton—excuse me, Major Wilkes—all that well, and we certainly didn’t meet under the best of circumstances. But I came to respect him. The fact of the matter is that I’m in a much better place today than I was when we first came to know each other.” She leaned in close to Dell. “I never could have realized it back then, but I really was in the right place and time, after all. For that, I’ll be forever grateful.”

“Specialist Alexia DeCoud, Deck Rat,
Liberator
. Not to be a skipping holo, but Major Wilkes gave me my brother back when by all rights he should have been dead and gone. As far as I’m concerned, Fenton Wilkes is the brother Dell and I never had.”

“Corporal Gennison Torrance, Security,
Liberator
. I fought with the Major. When
Liberator
was boarded. He was terrified. Completely out of his element. But he didn’t let that stop him. He knew what he had to do, and he did it. Breed…” Torrey paused, bowing his head. His friend’s name had been one of the first read days earlier. “Breed said we could have made a soldier out of him yet. I don’t know about all that, but if he wasn’t a warrior, he sure as hell had the courage of one.”

And so it went down the line.

“Commandant Soroya of Shih’ra,
Liberator
.” She gestured all around her, arms outstretched serenely. “My people have a true home—
our
home—for the first time in more than a generation because of Major Wilkes.”

“He left his mark upon us all,” Xenecia added. “Even those who once opposed him.”

Flight Marshal Harm stepped forward, leading a call of “For the Major!” three times. Then the mourners embraced individually before breaking off to share private remembrances and conversations.

“That was a lovely eulogy, Roon,” Soroya said as Roon approached her, Marshal Harm, Dell, Ohana, Alexia, and Torrey.

“Thank you, Madam Commandant. And thank you all for the very kind words. I wasn’t expecting any of that. It was—”

“We apologize if we were out of line,” Alexia blurted. “It just felt right in the moment.”

“Oh, no.” Roon smiled reassuringly. “Please, don’t apologize. You all spoke so beautifully. I wanted to thank you each personally.”

“May I ask what you will do now, Roon?” Soroya wondered. “I know it is hardly the time, but there is so much to be done on Shih’ra. Events are moving quickly. I would be most grateful if you would lend me your expertise as an advocate during this period of rebuilding and transition.”

Roon listened attentively and nodded, though her answer was writ upon her face from the beginning. “Thank you, Commandant Soroya. It would be the highest honor of my career to help oversee Fenton's legacy.”

“And I suppose you shall be needing a security consultant.” Xenecia said, stepping forward almost grudgingly. “Allow me to spare you the humiliation of asking.”

Soroya made a clucking sound of amusement. There was also the repayment of her loan to secure, she knew. “I suppose we shall, now that you mention it.” She nodded her thanks. “Consider me so spared.”

Ohana raised her hand. Like Dell, she wore her dress blues with a black band of mourning above the left elbow. “If I may, Marshal Harm?”

“You may.”

“Dell and I have talked it over. We feel it’s best if one of us transfers to a new ship. Given that he has seniority, I volunteer myself.”

“Very noble of you, Wingman Cassel.” Marshal Harm produced a thin manila envelope from within his jacket. He passed it on to Ohana. “Very timely, as well.”

Ohana seized the envelope excitedly. Tearing it open, Ohana scanned the order of transfer anxiously. “Wait, what?” she gaped, her brows knitting together. “
Brightstar?
What the hell? Where is that?”

“About a day from our current position,” Soroya said. “
Brightstar
is a new vessel, state of the art, which will assume command of the fleet when it arrives. She is under the able command of a colleague and old friend who would very much like for you to train her pilots in the new hardware left to us by the late Major Wilkes. Eventually, you will be given your choice of wings to command.”

Marshal Harm chuckled, shaking his head just so. “As usual, my dear, you buried the lead.” Looking to them both pointedly, he added, “We’ll make sure you each have the same zero-duty days every rotation.”

“Ah, yes. So I did.” Soroya shrugged. “Forgive me. It may surprise you to learn I have never been accused of being much of a romantic.”

Ohana and Dell grinned as they made eye contact, nodding snappily. They could hardly have hoped for better. “
Brightstar
it is, then.” Signing her name in receipt of the order, Ohana handed it back. “So, I guess this means you’re throwing your hat into the special election we've all been hearing so much about, huh?”

“Ready when you are, Madam Prime Minister.”

Soroya made eye contact with Vichante and Xenecia, Roon and the rest of her staff. They gave her strength, these people. So much more than they could possibly know. She would need it in the days and weeks to come, she knew, and she was grateful for it.

She nodded. She was ready.

The technician working the board nodded back. The board was green.

“People of Shih’ra,” she began. "Greetings. The voice you are hearing belongs to Prime Minister Soroya of the Interim Governing Council of New Shih’ra.

“Yes,
New
Shih’ra.

“I know this may be difficult for many of you to believe, perhaps even fantastical. Have faith, Children of the Fallen. Our once and future homeworld has been reborn, restored to us as if it were never lost.

“Already there are more than one thousand of us here. There are also many thousands of like-minded supporters. Together, we are working to reconstruct the world that was stolen from us.

"We are not enough on our own, however. We need your help. We entreat you, please, reach deep within and remember the love you have for your lost homeworld, even if it was only ever taught to you from afar.

“We have assistance. The Coalition of Free Planetary Republics has recognized our struggle for renewal. They have promised what aid they can provide.

“More than anything, we need you.

“Our planet needs you. Our people need you.

“Please, if you are able, come as quickly as you can.

“We are here.

“We are ready to begin anew.”

EPILOGUE II

Could there truly be consciousness without a body? Life without limits? Function without form?

Whether by design or default, the being formerly known as Ndeeldavono could now answer that question unequivocally.

No body. No brain.

And yet…

Ndeeldavono.

Yes? Are we he?

You Were. You Are No Longer. Remember.

Yes! Yes! We remember now. But why? How?

The stranded, disembodied souls of Ndeeldavono and all his clan burned with more pain than ever they had felt in their many lifetimes of hell spent between one dimension and this strange, dispossessed plane.

You Would Still Question Us?

No. Never.

Swear It.

We swear it. We swear it.

Then You Shall Live To Serve, For All That Such An Existence Is Worth.

To… to serve?

We Are The Once-Weres…
 

… And Through You…

We Shall Finally Be Whole Again.

Even without a mouth, somehow Ndeeldavono knew to scream.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

First and foremost, as always, you, the reader. You are amazing. Thank you for supporting independent authors and for choosing to read my book. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, I'd be tremendously grateful if you left a review on Amazon. Even a short one can be a big help! Also, don’t forget to check out my site to get news and updates, follow me on social media, sign up for my mailing list, and more!

I also want to thank my crack team of beta readers: Ann Christy, Will Swardstrom, and Thomas Robins. I’m so lucky to have such fantastic author friends willing and able to point out all the mistakes that evaded my tired eyes the last few years. Seriously, you guys are the best.

Thank you to Debbie at TheCoverCollection.com for somehow reaching into my brain and producing the perfect cover for this book. You are truly amazing at what you do. I can’t wait to work together again.

To everyone else, thank you for being a part of this incredible journey with me! Your support is my greatest motivation, and it means the world to me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Logan Thomas Snyder is an independent author and digital advertising consultant. He lives in sunny South Florida with his family and two rescue cats.
 

Logan can be reached through his website, loganthomassnyder.com, which includes links to his email, Facebook and Goodreads profiles, Twitter account, and more.