Grady's Awakening

Epilogue

When they arrived in Colorado a crowd gathered to meet the newcomers. Word spread like wildfire through the facility—especially about the aliens in their midst. Some were angry, some curious, others frightened, but everything changed when Bill’s tawny wings made an appearance.

Of all those gathered, it was a child who saw them first. A youngster who broke the ice.

“Mama, is he an angel?” a child’s loud whisper sounded, silencing everyone, and Gina saw a little girl pointing at Bill and tugging on her mother’s hand.

“I’m no angel.” Bill knelt on the ground before the child, his wings spread out and exposed for all to see.

A man stepped forward from the group. “Are you Alvian?” A collective murmur went up from the assembled people.

“No longer. If ever I was. I am an Alvian-Avarel hybrid, bred as an experiment, then experimented on even further. Unlike most other Alvians, I have feelings and for that I’m being hunted.”

“What’s an Avarel?” One of the crowd wanted to know.

“They were a race of advanced explorers that visited our worlds many generations ago. I can only surmise our leaders preserved some of their DNA without their knowledge, and I’m the result. The Avarel, it is said, had wings much larger than mine in a myriad of colorations. They were depicted in ancient artwork as having skin patterns that matched the color of their wings in a rainbow of hues. Few visited our worlds, but they were welcomed. It was from observing them that our leaders first realized our ways were too aggressive. We were killing ourselves in large numbers and the geneticists stepped in to solve the problem. They began changing us on a genetic level.”

Tory came forward to stand in front of him. “He’s the one I saw would come. The angel. He’s not Alvian. Not anymore.”

“I’ve seen him before. He’s the one they call Wild Bill. He lives high up in the mountains, but nobody knows exactly where,” one of the more recent additions to their community said.

“People of many talents will gather around a blond giant named for Hickok, who is an angel in disguise. A former enemy, he’ll become the father of the resistance. Tell those who manage to escape to seek him out in the high places.” Pierre recited the strange words. “That’s from the Oracle’s book of prophecies.”

“Well I’ll be.” Larry moved a little closer. “Wild Bill Hickok… An angel in disguise. I think we have ourselves a winner.”

“Sure looks that way,” Pierre agreed. “Never thought I’d meet an angel.”

“I’m no angel,” Bill was careful to point out again. “I’m an Alvian-Avarel hybrid, with all the faults of both races.”

“You’re also the man of whom the Oracle wrote,” Pierre said quietly, with finality.

Ronin Prime oversaw the prisoner transfer with something like satisfaction, though of course he couldn’t actually feel it. He’d change that—as soon as he could—if he had his way. The wheels had been set in motion. He just had to be patient to see his long-term plans come to fruition.

The prisoner was an older human male with an almost regal bearing despite his years of confinement. Ronin Prime watched the squadron of soldiers leave him with his Zxerah clansmen, waiting to be sure the other Alvians were gone before he approached.

When he drew near, his Zxerah brethren parted ranks, leaving him face to face with the human man. The man stood proud, sizing Ronin up with cool blue eyes as any good competitor would. Ronin respected that.

“Remove his restraints,” he ordered his brethren quietly, unsurprised when the human’s eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts. This man—a former general—was a cool customer indeed.

The shackles were removed one by one, leaving the human standing tall and proud before Ronin, flanked by four soldiers of the Zxerah brethren. Ronin had taken the precaution of having this transfer take place on a military installation away from the Zxerah stronghold, but he’d handpicked the men who would initially deal with this prisoner who could prove to be very important.

“You are General Yeager.” Ronin didn’t ask. He knew full well to whom he was speaking, but he wanted the general to understand that Ronin not only knew but also respected his rank and stature.

The man nodded once.

“I have heard good things about you from your people in Colorado. Before you ask—” Ronin held up one hand to forestall any outbursts, but this general was an even cooler customer than he’d credited. “All is well in Colorado. Your people thrive in their home and have not been disturbed. They have, however, been contacted by one of my operatives, and we are in communication on a somewhat regular basis now. It is because of this, I’ve had you transferred to my care. The men you left behind in Colorado have never forgotten you. I respect that and because of it, I believe we can be of help to each other and to our respective races.”

The general eyed him suspiciously. “I’m willing to listen.”

“Excellent.” Ronin stepped toward the waiting craft. “Come with us then, and we will talk on the way. I have much to tell you, and we have much to discuss.”

A week later, the door to an apartment in the Northern City slid open and a young man stood on the threshold. A tentative smile touched his lips.

“I knew you would come.” The young man stepped aside, allowing Ronin to enter. He did so with uncharacteristic hesitance, turning to face the young man in the entryway as the door slid closed.

“I am Ronin.”

“I know.”

“And you must be Harry.”

At that, the young man’s smile returned. “Your kind generally calls me Hara, but I prefer Harry.”

Ronin took his measure. “I am not precisely like other Alvians, though I suppose I still share more in common with them than with others.”

“You question things, which is good, and you see possibilities for the future. That’s more than most, Patriarch.”

One brow rose in question at Harry’s casual use of Ronin’s title. “Do you know of what you speak or it is merely premonition that prompts you to use such a word?”

“There is nothing mere about any of my premonitions.” Harry’s tone turned challenging. “But to answer your question, it is a mixture of both research and foresight. I foresaw your visit here a long time ago. After that initial vision, I conducted research in Alvian databases and histories so I would know with whom I’d be dealing in the future. I learned much about your Brotherhood, but little about you as a person, Ronin Prime.”

“Then we are equally in search of knowledge.” Ronin moved further into the apartment and took a seat on the couch. “I know of your ancestry but have found precious little information about you, yourself. I have come here to begin the journey of knowledge, to see if we can work together to create a better future for our people.”

“Which people?” Harry challenged as he sat in a chair, opposite. With a casual thought, he moved an illicit device from the other side of the room onto the low table between the couch and his chair. The show of telekinesis was no doubt deliberate—a flexing of mental muscles designed to showcase one of his many talents that made him so different from his Alvian brethren. Another thought flipped the device on. “We are now shielded against monitoring of any kind.”

“Forgive me.” Ronin reached into his robe and pulled out a similar device, placing it on the table and switching it on with his fingers before sitting back. “I did not get to be Patriarch of the Zxerah Brotherhood by trusting others not of my clan. I mean no disrespect or insult. It is my nature to be cautious.”

“I’m not offended. Caution is a good thing. I knew you would come for a long time, but I never knew when or why. So please tell me, what brings you here now?”

Ronin bowed his head, gathering his thoughts before speaking. He sorted through the many things he could say, finally deciding on the simplest, yet most troubling.

“It is time.”