Conjoined... Convergence... Ascension

This is an entry in the ATF Story Writing Contest 2024/I. The story is posted by the organizer. The actual author of the story will remain anonymous until at least the end of the contest.

Conjoined... Convergence... Ascension

Forward

Beep, beep, beep... the awakening Guardian is slow to respond to the insistent demands from the Watcher. Shedding the cobwebs of a very long mental nap, the ancient being stationed on this planet is still unable to focus on much. Groggily, it sends out a quick mental probe towards the direct link to the Watcher.

“You know, for a sentient artificial intelligence, you're still a nuisance. This better be good!” pausing, the Guardian glances around at the dark inside of their subterranean home. The stalactites and stalagmites are only slightly longer. The water dripping off the formations continue to make a comforting sound of normalcy in the semi-darkness.

Taking a long, deep breath of air, he fills his lungs with the atmosphere of this pretty little 'M' class world. Before he continues, the Guardian lets his senses take in the richness of naturally occurring air. “Aaah, ambrosia!” he says, then gets a taste of the foulness hidden within nature's perfection. Traces of partially burned hydrocarbons and, worst of all, high levels of carbon dioxide. Yes, the sentient humanoids of this world are in trouble.

Sighing mentally, he opens his mind to the Watcher, “Okay. How bad is it?”

The Watcher's answer is quick and brief. “Bad, 81.9% chance of an extinction event. Damage is repairable, but if left unchecked, it will take much longer for normal evolution to continue. The loss of this sentient species will be regrettable. They possess many of the characteristics that are needed throughout the galactic plane for defense and creativity. They're a hardy species that can easily adapt to the rapid changes in technology. But they are still very disorganized and warlike, with the strong preying on the weak. They need help, sir. But I understand the no interference policy.” He stops to gather his thoughts and review the data concerning the real reason for awakening the Guardian.

The Guardian waits patiently for the Watcher to continue. Finally ready, he gives his boss the equivalent of a happy smile, “I have observed a possible Convergence.” A sixty-four-year-old Pilot candidate and a newly conceived intrauterine Navigator. Probability of Navigator Ascension: 89.3%. Pilot training has been technical in nature, and he is well versed in general communication as well. Probability of Extraterrestrial Acceptance: a species maximum of 94.8%.”

The Guardian takes all this in stride and asks, “So how does this Pilot compare to the original human evaluated? Oooh, how many Earth years have passed since that evaluation?”

The Watcher ready with that information, says, “A mere 496 years have passed since the original Pilot, Da Vinci, was evaluated. Using their rotation method of year counting, it is the year 2012. This Pilot candidate is not as highly intelligent but is well-rounded in most of the Geo-political knowledge of the various societies on the planet. He is also well traveled and has interfaced with many different cultures. His ability to blend in and be accepted is unusually unique for this species, stage of development. Not totally optimal, but he will also be able to provide the necessary practical, hands-on sex education for the developing Navigator. His involvement will be pivotal to their ultimate joining.”

The Watcher finishes and waits for the Guardian's response, “Are you absolutely sure they are both present? That they may be able to open a gateway? If so, we can get this planet the help they need.”

His data stream was twinkling with excitement, “Yes, sir! I think there's an above-average chance for the viability of both a Pilot and the Navigator.”

The Guardian stretches its limbs and asks, “You were right to awaken me. It would be good to win one for a change. Is it safe for me to take a short walk before I go to sleep again? I would like to see a sunset if possible. The sunlight always renews my hope.”

His friend the Watcher has been waiting for this question, “Yes, sir. It's near the end of another beautiful day in the canyon. You can use the Grotto door. The water isn't too deep this time of year, and you can walk out to the smooth rock ledge. The humans have constructed a metal bridge as part of a trail system up the canyon. They seem to find this place as beautiful as we do. The Pilot and his family were just here a few days ago, hiking. They like to walk up the stream bed and climb the rocks. Only about 10% of the hikers enjoy scrambling over the uneven terrain.” He chuckles mentally, knowing the Guardian's next question.

“How many times has he answered the 'call' to come here, only to be turned away without the possibility of a Navigator?” he asks the AI.

His data stream brightens even further, “One hundred and twenty-three times he has come, always seeking, never finding. He's even stared with unfulfilled longing at the Grotto door. He knows where it is. He's even felt for the door release, but in the end, he left with an unhappy sigh to go back to his life in the human world.”

The old one walks through the heavy-rock covered metal door. Wading through the small stream that runs through their canyon home, he climbs out on the smooth rock. He pauses to listen to the tinkle of the water as it flows down the rocky stream bed. Standing near the edge, he looks down as the water cascades off the rocks in a series of small waterfalls. Above the waterfalls, nearly in alignment with the deep canyon walls, is this world's primary star. The 'G-class' bright yellow star shines its life-giving light on this beautiful little planet.

He stands there, breathing in the air. He lets each and every breath caress the insides of his gill lungs. This location was picked eons ago for its remoteness. Even now, it is still out of the way. Located in the mountains, it is accessible by humans, but for most only during the daytime. Only a few adventurous ones go back deeper into the mountains to hike and camp out for a few days.

The sunset, as promised, is magnificent. He can still feel the residual presence of the Pilot. He stood very near here, and like the Guardian enjoyed the simple pleasures of the world around him. Regrettably, he must return to his sleep and wait for the natural order of things to take this world forward or into another long wait.

He returns to his stasis chamber and lays down. “Not too deep this time, my friend. Awaken the Pilot when you think it's necessary to start his training. And awaken me when the Navigator is near ascension.”

With a quick goodbye, the Watcher places the Guardian back in stasis. Resuming his watchfulness, he checks all his data streams and tunes into one of the digital data streams coming from a nearby satellite. He likes to watch his favorite baseball team. Being a 'Watcher' has its perks: free streaming. He laughs mentally and settles in to check everything around the world.

Conjoined

A quiet mental whisper is the first thought she receives from her sister. It's a peaceful time of rest for their mother. Their thoughts are simple at first. The slight changes in light and dark. The movement of their mother during the time of light. The wonder of her heartbeat and the air flowing in and out of her lungs. They also enjoy the noisy gurgling echoes of her digestive track as it extracts the nutrients necessary for their growth. The quiet time of rest in the dark. Even the redness of pain the dark visitor brings when it penetrates their mother. They feel the excitement growing in her body as she responds to the lengthy intruder. Then the blinding pulse of pleasure and the thick warmness that comes out of the intruder to fill the void between her legs.

This is the beginning of their lives together. The sharing starts almost from the beginning, when they start to hear each other. The little joys of listening to their mother together. Letting their minds touch each other. They are the same, but different. The mental link between them deepens with each passing day. Together, they are complete. Two little souls, the yin and yang of the other. Their essence of self moves back and forth, first in one mind, then in the other. They revel in their differences. One likes bright colors, and the other likes the softer shades. They even start to refer to themselves separately, using certain feelings, likes, and dislikes. In the end, they chose Quiet and Noisy. This seems to work well. Each likes their new reference system.

Then one busy time, Quiet feels another. Thoughts and feelings from another. Not her twin Noisy, but someone else. Someone outside their tiny world. The feelings are deeper, richer, and harder to understand. But they are directed towards them and their world. There are two separate pathways. It's their mother; Quiet can hear the muffled sound of her voice. One of the sounds is comforting and directed toward her. She quickly flashes a mental thought across to Noisy who was resting. She's been resting a lot lately. Not as Noisy as usual. But Noisy sleeps on. Finally, Noisy wakes up to listen to the muffled sound and thoughts coming from their mother. She enjoys the sounds and thoughts directed towards her as well.

They often share the feelings they have for their mother. The soft cooing sounds she's making, the reassuring beat of her heart, the comforting rhythm of the air flowing in and out of her lungs... Everything is right within their small, self-contained world. They want for nothing. They are safe in the warm tightness of the womb.

The twins often join their mother in the rest cycle to sleep themselves. Quiet awakens in the darkness to find her sister struggling to move. Something is not right. She reaches out to find her sister's mind, fighting to keep the threads of contact between them intact. Then Quiet hears it, or rather, the lack of it. Her sister Noisy's heartbeat is slowing.

Her mind rushes to Noisy, they both push and pull at the barrier that has formed between them. Slowly, using all their combined strength, they slowly open a hole through the thickening resistance. Finally, it's big enough for Noisy to come through, into her side. As the last of her passes into Quiet's side, the barrier slams shut. They both turn as one to look back at the barrier. They see it darkening, and the bright light on the other side, simply fades away. A few moments later, the heartbeat there slows and slows until it stops.

Quiet turns slowly to touch the essence of her sister's mind. Noisy is still unusually silent. She moves up to the dark barrier and pushes against it. There is nothing, no softness, only impenetrable hardness. The living vessel that was her home is gone. Quiet watches her brightness falter and grow dimmer. Suddenly, she feels something new in her world: concern. She lets her brightness flow around and over her sister. Wrapping herself around Noisy, she fills her mind with the memories of the loving sounds their mother made just for her. Adding her own love for her sister, it doesn't take long for her brightness and her noise to return.

Like usual, they spend some time contemplating what has happened in their tiny world. New feelings have been discovered: concern and a strange melancholy when Noisy's brightness faded. And what happened to Noisy's vessel? Where is it? Why did it leave so suddenly? Question after question remains unanswered, which causes them more concern. But in the end, they decide to focus on Noisy and where she should rest.

Quiet already has space, but there is still an empty spot that Noisy seems to like. It's near Quiet, but far enough away to let them enjoy themselves. Time within their world has no meaning. They sleep, exchange feelings, and marvel at the changes happening. Quiet is thoughtful and reserved, while Noisy is all about... well, noise. She enjoys discussing all the new things that keep showing up in their world.

One of their new favorite things to do is listen to their mother. They can feel the gentle pressure of her touch. Or maybe the muffled sounds she makes. Little coos or the longer chains of cyclic sounds often put them to sleep. Her heart, lungs, and warmth. Everything that is hers, they listen to and love.

Then, after a normal rest period, there is a firm pressure on the outside. Cold and probing, it pushes inward on them. The pulsing sound it made was annoying. Noisy and Quiet clung to one another until the sound and the pressure stopped. But then their mother's brightness dims. Their world quivers and quakes as that disturbing melancholy feeling permeates the womb. It's even worse than when Noisy's vessel went away.

Soon they feel her holding them, and cuddling them. The melancholy is hard to bear, but it's still mixed with a deep joy.

Outside, the obstetrician delivers the bad news to their mother, “I'm sorry, Melissa, but there's only one now. This type of thing usually happens in the first trimester. It likely has something to do with the attachment of the fetus to the placenta. Twins crowd the womb. There sometimes isn't enough room for both of them. Trust me, this is for the best. Any later, and we could lose both of them, or even you too.”

Sniffing back the tears, Melissa Donovan asks, “What about her little body? Don't we need to remove it or something?”

Dr. Marla Howard combs the hair back from Melissa's forehead and hands her a few tissues, “No, this early, they are so small the body usually reabsorbs them. It's nature's way of providing for the one remaining baby.” She pauses to point toward the monitors. “Just look at those vitals... strong and healthy.” Then switching her attention to the sonogram images, “She's doing just fine. She is above average in size, and her development is right on target. There's absolutely no reason to expect any trouble with this little girl. I would like to move you to a monthly exam just to be sure.”

Melissa agrees, and the Watcher switches off the remainder of the report. He adds a brief comment to this report. Phase 1 is complete. The twins have begun their interface. He then moves the entire data file to the one next to the Pilot's. “Now we wait and watch.” he thinks to himself.

The Beginnings

Working together, each of the twins has learned a great deal more than a usual baby in the womb. They have been busy trying to understand each subtle movement of the hand, foot, arm, leg, and head. Plus the excitement of opening their eyes. Light, dark, or even fuzzy movement. They're not sure what all this means, but as their world grows smaller and the tightness gets worse, they start to dream of a world outside. Their minds are stronger now and more developed.

Their mother's world has changed as they have grown larger. Her sounds now include grunts and groans. Also, there are more feelings, like concern or melancholy. They are not a bright color, but darker, like her feelings right after Noisy's vessel was lost. The thrumming, pulsing probe has continued, but always with their mother's brightness returning afterwards.

Not long after the dark of the quiet time, the twins are stretching and enjoying one of their many active times. Their mother groans happily at the slight pain as she feels a hand and then a foot pushing upward against her belly. Then, in an instant, their world changes for all three of them. It starts near the twins feet. A sudden tightness that squeezes them in a rolling wave of constriction. The ripples move down the outer part of their world, ending beyond their head. The uncomfortable tightness lasts for a short while, then eases and stops.

The twins are confused; they have never felt anything like that. Yes, their world has been getting smaller as they've grown, but this was something else. Their discussion on the matter has just started when it occurs again. A sudden, uncomfortable tightness squeezes them. Like before, it eases and stops. So begins their continuous torment. A short while later, the warm moistness surrounding them slowly goes away. This is yet another uncomfortable change. Then nature's sweetness starts to arrive. Stimulants for the body, drying agents for the lungs. Everything the vessel needs to take the next step in life. And for the twins, a sedative to ease the pain of birth.

Outside, their mother, Melissa, has called her mother to come pick her up from work. Everyone wishes her the best, and off to the hospital they go to have a baby. They move her into a birthing suite and let her get settled for the long process ahead.

About two hours in, the obstetrician, Dr. Howard, comes in to check on Melissa's progress. This is her first child. After a few minutes and a quick pelvic exam, she smiles at Melissa.

“Everything is fine, Melissa. Your water has broken. You and the baby are doing fine. Try and get some rest. I will be back later in the evening to check on you.”

The hours pass, but the twins clinging to each other could care less. Their visit to La La Land continues as the contractions gradually move them downward into their mother's pelvic cavity. Head down; they are ready. When their mother's labor intensifies, they feel her pain and theirs through the haze of the sedatives. On and on it goes for hours, until the magical door to the outside is fully open and the doctor outside tells Melissa.

“Okay, Melissa. I know you're tired, but you need to focus now and push when the next contraction hits. She's ready. I can see the top of her head. Only a few more pushes, and your daughter will join us.”

Melissa cries out in pain as another contraction ripples inside her belly, “She better be fucking worth all this trouble.” She groans out and begins to push.

Using the last of her strength, she pauses for a few seconds to rest and waits for another contraction.

Dr. Howard smiles from between her legs, “Okay, Melissa, she's almost here. One more big push, and you can rest.”

Melissa, gathering herself, is ready when the next contraction rips through the fog of tiredness and brings forth her daughter. The wall of pain is suddenly more intense, and she feels her daughter transition into her new life. First her head, and then, with a gentle twist from the doctor, her shoulders and the rest of her follow with a slippery slurp.

The nurse hands her a suction bulb. Holding the slimy infant, she clears her nose and mouth. Then a gentle rub on the back and a small smack on her tiny butt. Taking a deep breath, Quiet and Noisy let the world know of their arrival. With a bloodcurdling wail, they announce to the assembled their general displeasure.

Everyone was smiling at the new arrival. The doctor quickly gives her a quick check and notes a 15mm cyst attached to the base of her spine. Unconcerned, she has everything ready just in case this growth is present. It's the remnant of the other twin. Not wanting to alarm Melissa, Dr. Howard rests the newborn on her mother's stomach and drapes a clean white baby blanket over the infant.

Quieting, the baby looks around at the others. But she focuses most of her attention on their mother.

Dr. Howard gives her an approving smile. “Well, she's already quite a lady. Have you picked a name out for her?”

Melissa is gazing down at her new-born daughter and says, “Trista Serene Donovan.”

Leaving mother and daughter to bond, she patiently waits for the afterbirth to be expelled. A minute or so later, it slips out of Melissa's dilated birth canal. Dr. Howard looks for any detachment issues, but there aren't any. The only anomaly is where Trista's twin was attached to the placenta. It wasn't an optimum location. It was too far away from the center, near the thinning edge. There was just not enough blood and nutrients to make it out that far. The other twin never had a chance to reach maturity. She sighs and lays the discarded organ in a sterile tray for further testing.

Dr. Howard moves her eyes up to see Melissa and her daughter doing well. Mom is cooing happily, and the baby has already found her fist and is tying to nurse. She smiles at the pair and reaches down for the baby.

“Sorry, Melissa, but I need to cut her umbilical cord and finish her measurements.” She says carefully lifting the baby and putting her on a scale. With the nurse helping, they quickly measured and weighed her. She was quite a willowy little thing, coming in at 22.5 inches and 8 pounds, 7 ounces. Starting to squirm and building towards a hungry little tantrum, they hurriedly checked her fingers and toes. Then run a smooth end tool down each foot and palm to see her splayed finger and toe response. Everything is perfect, except for the cyst. The nurse is ready and breaks open a quick skin tag lesion removal kit.

The nurse rolls the struggling baby onto her side, and with a quick scrap, the cyst is gone. A little antibiotic cream and a band-aid later, she's ready to go. Clamping off the umbilical cord, they separate her from the placenta and quickly swaddle the unhappy infant.

Unhappy with the rough treatment and starving to boot, Quiet and Noisy let loose on the world. They have jointly decided to give them a full slice of their unhappiness. After clearing out her pipes, she lets the assembled adults have it. Wailing at the top of her lungs, Quiet supports Noisy in this combined effort of total displeasure.

Finally finished Dr. Johnson scoops up a very unhappy Trista and brings her over to her mother. Melissa has her left breast exposed, and the clear fluid leaking out of the nipple is everything Trista needs to get a good start on life. The doctor quickly hands the swaddled baby to her mother. An instant later, the baby's insistent cries are quieted. The only sounds in the room are the slurping gurgles of the hungry baby nursing. And a very deep, contented sigh from her mother.

“Easy now! There's plenty of Mama to go around. You don't have to drain me dry in one setting, little girl,” she chuckles through a painful grimace.

Dr. Howard laughs, “Well, Melissa. I think you got yourself a real chow hound there. I will get you a nipple conditioner and numbing agent to help until you get used to her breast feeding.”

After getting her fill, Trista is all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. Everyone lines up to get a turn at holding her while the others take her picture. After another top-off from mom, they take her to the nursery for a nap. Melissa's mom, Nora, stays, but the rest of the family takes off to give her some quiet time. Melissa soon nods off to sleep.

The Watcher closes the video file and smiles inwardly. Phase 2 is complete. Now there's nothing to do but wait for her to mature enough to accept the Pilot. Still smiling, he closes the file and starts to scan his other data inputs.

The Early Years

The first few months of life for a newborn are all the same. Their lives revolve around the constant, annoying hunger that occupies most of their time awake. The rest of the time is spent sleeping. The only other constant is the consistent need to pee and poop. There's not much time for meaningful contemplation with your sister when you're both sharing the nutritional resources of a rapidly growing body.

Even through all the chaos, they still have time for each other and the sharing of their minds. Each of them experiences input from the body. Most of those inputs are common to both. But they slowly discover that a few of them can be used individually. This allows them a certain amount of autonomy and separation from each other. They soon determine that each has a dominant side. Quiet occupies the right side of their mind, whereas Noisy occupies the left. Their independent control starts with the fingers, hand, and arm. The eyes too, but only after the twins start to gain control over their basic motor functions.

Their six-month checkup has the pediatrician, Dr. Lisa Johnson, scratching her head. A new patient, Melissa Donovan, and her baby daughter are here for their first well baby check-up. The little girl, Trista, is different from any six-month-old she's ever seen. The active little girl measures right at 29 inches long but weighs a lean 17.5 pounds. Her motor and mental skills are off the chart. She is using either hand to grasp and pull things toward her mouth. In fact, they seem to be fighting each other over which toy gets chewed on first. She is also showing advanced development in mobility. Stripped down to a white t-shirt and diaper, she is rolling, scooting, and crawling along the floor in the activity area. The biggest surprise comes in the middle of the exam when Trista rolls onto her back and gives her mother a chirping cry of alarm.

Laughing Melissa walks over to the doctor and her baby. Still smiling, “I was hoping she would do this...” she chuckles again. “She just wants to use the restroom.” She stops and leans over to peer down at Trista. “Is there a bathroom close by?”

The pediatrician glares at the baby and mother in amazed disbelief and points toward the door. A few doors down on the right is a bathroom. Melissa, carrying the baby, leads the way inside. Once the door is closed, Melissa takes her diaper off and lets her pee in the sink.

Dr. Johnson, curious about what else the baby can do, asks, “Is this the only unusual thing she does?”

Melissa gives the baby a bright smile and answers, “No, she's full of surprises. Do you have a play area where we can leave her on the floor for a few minutes and watch what she does?”

The pediatrician nods her head. “Yes, we have a small child evaluation room that we use for older children. It should work fine to leave Trista in there for a few minutes. We will be right outside a one-way window.”

Leaving the restroom, the two women and the baby walk down the hall to another door labeled 'Observation Room'. Opening the door into a small hallway, Dr. Johnson walks straight ahead to another door. Inside is a small 12-by-12-foot room. In the center is a small round child's table and four chairs. On the table are a number of toys for older toddlers: Montessori sensory toys, stacking cups, wooden jigsaw puzzles, and a large set of wooden alphabet blocks.

Melissa, smiling at the doctor's doubtful look, says, “Perfect. She will have a ball with those toys. Just move the chairs against the back wall, and we'll set her just inside the door.”

Dr. Johnson quickly does as requested and walks back to Melissa and Trista. She points to the table. “This isn't going to work very well. Do you want me to put some of the toys on the floor?”

Melissa answers quickly, “No, let's see what she'll do right where they are...”

The doctor, shrugging her shoulders, says, “Okay, if you say so.”

She walks back to the door, where Melissa holds Trista out at arms length. “Mommy's got to talk to the doctor for a few minutes. I'll be back to get you in a few minutes,” she finishes.

Trista, smiling and cooing, reaches out for her mom to give her a snuggle. With a quick chuckle, Melissa hugs the baby close and gives the happy baby a few wet kisses on the cheek. Giggling, the baby hugs her mother's face and gives her a slobbery kiss back.

Laughing quietly, she bends over to set the baby on the carpeted floor. She turns with the doctor to walk out of the room. Closing the door, they both hurry into a small observation cubicle. The one-way mirror gives them an excellent view of the room they just left. Trista, looking over her shoulder at the closed door, decides the coast is clear. With a bright smile, she brings her attention back to the table full of colorful toys.

She gives the door a final check, then flops over on her tummy. Camel-like, she uses her arms and legs to gather herself. Standing up, she wobbles from side to side. Slowly, she takes a few awkward, uncoordinated steps forward before lumbering unsteadily towards the table full of toys.

Even before the doctor can make further comments, Trista starts to play with two different toys. The hand on the left is soon working on the Montessori multicolored blocks with holes in them, while the hand on the right is starting to stack the alphabet blocks one at a time. With each hand working independently, Trista plays with the toys.

Dr. Johnson slowly turns towards Melissa and asks, “How long has she been playing with multiple toys at the same time and walking?”

Melissa, cringing a little, answers, “She's started walking a few weeks ago, but the toy thing has been going on for months. Trista seems to like multiples of everything: toys, colors, shapes, and sounds.” She stops and watches her daughter play with the toys. Taking a deep breath, she says, “Almost daily, she is doing something new and amazing. She's like a tiny human sponge, soaking up all the knowledge around her. I just want the best for her. Can you help me, Dr. Johnson?”

Lisa sympathizes with Melissa, “I think you have an amazing daughter. Trista is obviously gifted. I can provide you with some general enrichment programs and material. I would start her out at the beginning and let her proceed through the material at her pace. If you run out, just give me a call, and I can get you more.” She pauses to join her mother in watching the little girl play with the toys.

Lisa continued, “I would also keep her out of normal daycare until we can evaluate how she does with her peers and those a few years older. Oooh, don't send out her test results to anyone but me. There are government people out there looking for extremely gifted children. I have heard some real horror stories from a few friends of mine in the medical field.”

Melissa just nods her head and follows her out the door. Stopping outside the observation room, she says, “Okay, Melissa, bring Trista back in about three months for another check-up.” Opening the door, she finds Trista sitting down by the table with two alphabet blocks in her hands. Smiling, she sees her mother and starts to crawl across the floor toward her.

Melissa, brushing past Dr. Johnson, rushes over to scoop her daughter off the floor. Growling ferociously, she lifts the laughing little girl up high above her head.

Giving her a gentle shake, she asks her daughter, “So, Trista, have you been a good little girl?”

Gurgling an incomprehensible answer, she reaches out with her two little arms for her mother. Bringing Trista in close, the little girl gives Melissa another slobbery open-mouth kiss. The two women laughing at the little girl take her back to the exam room. It's time to get the unpleasantness out of the way. Ten minutes later, with Trista's six-month inoculations on board, Melissa straps a very unhappy little girl into her car seat.

The enrichment material that Dr. Johnson promised arrives in the mail two days later. Melissa sets up an area for Trista with the toys and equipment that were recommended. While doing her own job, she is able to spend time with her daughter's early education as well.

By the time she's a year old, they're already on their second set of enrichment materials. By then, Dr. Johnson starts to see something incredible in the test results from Trista. But as Trista's two-year check-up approaches, she is certain that this little girl is indeed very special. A human being that is different from all the rest.

Melissa explains to Trista that they are going to go see Dr. Johnson this morning. Trista is turning into quite the tiny blonde-haired beauty. A walking, talking little bean pole. A little over three feet tall and weighing around thirty pounds, she is a precocious and stubborn two-year-old; typical in every way, at least on the outside. Unlike her usual bubbly self, she clams up just as they get to the doctor's office.

Holding Melissa's hand, they walk into the waiting room. Dr. Johnson has left her morning open to talk with Melissa and, hopefully, Trista. After checking 'In', they are immediately taken back to see Lisa. She has two chairs in her office. One with a booster seat for Trista, the other for Melissa.

Dr. Johnson turns her monitor around so that both Melissa and Trista can see the screen. Displayed are the results of Trista's steady acquisition of knowledge. She's already doing 3rd and 4th grade work, and her 2nd birthday was two weeks ago. What's surprising about the displayed information is the split-screen view. The one on the right shows a high aptitude for language and verbal skills. The left is high in math and science, with a special interest in astronomy.

Melissa glances from one half of the display to the other, then gives Dr. Johnson a deep, furrowed frown. “Dr. Johnson, I don't understand. Why do you have Trista's test scores separated like this?” she asks.

Smiling at them both, she says, “That's a very good question, Melissa. Why don't we ask Trista why I have them separated? What do you say, Trista? Can you tell your mother why there are two separate sets of test scores?”

Trista gives her mother and the doctor nothing but a blank stare. Not a word, nothing. Emotionless, she just sits there and scowls unhappily at Dr. Johnson.

With a quiet chuckle, Dr. Johnson continues, “Sorry, Melissa. I didn't expect her to answer the question. But trust me, both of them understood the question. Didn't you?”

Sitting back in her chair, Lisa waits for the shit to hit the fan. Melissa turns on the doctor with a feral rage. “What do you mean, both of them? How the hell did you even find out I was carrying twins? That information is private.” She glances at Trista, then back to the doctor. “And just what the fuck does losing one of my babies have to do with Trista and her test scores?”

But before either can answer, Trista little girl's voice answers, “Mommy... Mommy... It's okay. Please, no, be mad, Doctor Lisa.”

Lisa and Melissa turn to Trista. Lisa, smiling from ear to ear, and Melissa is shocked to hear her little girl talking outside the privacy of their home. Both are waiting impatiently, but neither are really ready for the truth. But at least the good doctor has some inkling of who resides in this unusual two-year-old.

Quiet and Noisy have been discussing this very topic for quite some time. The twins both knew at some point that they would be discovered by their mother or someone like Dr. Johnson. If someone else besides their mother was to know, then it would make sense for their family doctor to be the one. She's the one who has been providing their mother with educational material for them.

Checking with Quiet one final time, Noisy starts out. “Okay, Dr. Johnson. What questions do you have for us?”

Melissa's shock has her momentarily paralyzed with the remembered grief she had for her unknown baby. Now, right in front of her, Trista just admitted to there being two separate twins inside her little girl. Unable to talk, let alone think, Melissa just sits there, staring at her child.

Dr. Johnson, recovering quickly, starts out simple, “Okay. Do you have names for each other?” she asks.

Trista gives the doctor a brief smile. “Yes, I am Noisy and my sister is Quiet.” She stops, and her eyes lose their focus for a few seconds. “If you would like, Quiet can talk as well, but I usually do the talking.“ As she chuckles at some internal joke.

“What?” asks the doctor.

“Oh, Quiet was saying. I do the talking, while she does the thinking. I told her to start talking so I could do more thinking. Quiet thought that was funny. But she doesn't like talking unless she has to,” Noisy finishes.

Melissa, waking from her shocked stupor, leaps out of her chair and grabs Trista in a massive bear hug. Starting to cry, the tears stream down her checks unabated. She holds her little girl and sobs as she realizes that her babies are both here with her, alive and well.

Finally, she loosens her death grip on Trista and asks. “How can this be possible? Which of you is here now? I mean, who's body is here now?”

There's a small pause before a slightly different voice answers Melissa, “Noisy asked me to tell you this part. She doesn't like to talk about this. Noisy is the one who lost her vessel. Right before it left us, she came to live with me. We have been together ever since. The two of us are sharing the space in my head.”

After Trisha finishes, Melissa gathers her close again. “Thank you, Quiet, for saving your sister. That was such a brave thing to do.” She says quietly, still hugging Trista.

Raising her arms, she wraps them around her mother and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “We love you, Mommy,” they both echo with an unusual duality to her voice.

Melissa releases her little girl. Lifting her hand, she brushes a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “I love you both so much. Maybe later we can talk more. I want to learn more about you both. I have lots of hugs and kisses that I've saved for Noisy. I would like to use a few more soon. If that's okay?”

“Yes, we have lots to talk about, and Noisy has been saving up her hugs and kisses too.” Announces Quiet, overjoyed with happiness. Mother and daughters hug and share a few more kisses before they're able to break apart and sit down in front of Dr. Johnson.

Dr. Johnson, taking a Kleenex, passes the box across to Melissa and the twins. “Okay, that was the hard part. Now we can discuss how to move forward.”

Lisa stops and steeples her index fingers in front of her while Melissa and Trista watch her think. “Alright, first, I am going to need you both to trust me completely. First things first, no more hiding the truth from each other, especially the two of you, young ladies,” deep in thought, she slows. “When I first met you and your mother, I warned her about the government's interest in gifted children. Well, I work for the United States government. I will not and cannot tell you more than that, except that I've been tasked with finding unusually gifted children like Trista. I have not, however, told them about her, or you, Melissa. Everything I know about you three has been kept secret. I have altered her birth records and the information from your doctor's file during your pregnancy. There are no records of Trista being anything other than a single baby pregnancy and birth.” The doctor stops and takes a deep, mind-clearing breath.

“Now we must all work together to protect Trista from those who would harm her or abuse the gifts she's been given. Today we are going to start a new game of survival. We'll call it 'Being Normal'. The idea of the game is to appear like any other little girl, normal and average,” pointing at Trista. “It will be hard for you to assimilate, but you must, or they will find you,” she stops again and asks. “Do you two understand the danger you are in?”

Noisy answers for the twins, “Yes, we understand about being normal, average, and also the danger we're all in. But what can we do? We are small and defenseless. Only our mother is here to protect us.”

Dr. Johnson chuckles mirthlessly, “Yes, that's a problem. That is why we will have to be very good at playing the game. Starting tomorrow, your education will start to include more activities that will help you blend in with the normal people around you. No more total online education. We are going old school with reading, writing, and arithmetic. At least half of your time will be spent learning to read real books and write using a pencil or pen on real paper. When you work on math, you will solve those problems by hand, showing your work.”

Trista's groan of frustration has a brief sound of duality in it. But she looks back at the doctor with a determined grimace. “Okay, but our fingers don't work so well,” Noisy explains.

The doctor smiles at Melissa and Trista. “I know Noisy, but we need to start. It will be hard at first, but it will get easier as you grow older. You will just have to be patient until you both get used to this new process. This has to be done now before your adaptability starts to wane.”

Still not finished, she gives them both one final thoughtful look, “The last thing we will need to do is get you some face time with other children. I think we can begin with three, two-hour daycare sessions. I have several daycare contacts and have already contacted multiple private schools to take care of the rest. I will work with your mother to organize and get things rolling.”

At the end, Melissa and Trista sit there, letting the enormity of this change settle in. Melissa finally asks, “How am I going to pay for all this? I am barely making it now. We live like hermits, never leaving the house, and if not for your educational help, the twins would have gone crazy long ago.”

Dr. Lisa Johnson is ready for that one. “That's simple to fix. I need a personnel assistant to help me with the business side of my practice. I will pay you quite well, and the twins will have both of us to help with their education and normalization.”

Noisy, Quiet, and Melissa only take a few minutes to discuss Dr. Johnson's offer before they agree unanimously to accept her help.

So begins the 'normalization' phase of the twins lives. It took years with both Melissa and Dr. Johnson's help to get the girls past the chaos of their early childhood. But by age seven, their physical development finally allowed them to blend in with their peers. Other than still being very tall and quite the stunning beauty for a seven-year-old, they were able to blend in reasonably well with the children around them.

The Pilot

Glancing up from his various data streams, the Watcher is satisfied with the progress of the Navigator. The duality of her rapid mental growth and her quickly maturing body will soon require the Pilot. He will need to be ready to guide her to the next phase of her awakening. He just hopes the Navigator can survive the chaos of the next few years. Now all he has to do is wait for the old man to come back for another visit to this remote location. It's early in June, and one of the typical months the Pilot visits the 'Cat Walks' canyon. Dustin Edges no longer joins his children or grandchildren to walk up the canyon floor. Scrambling over the rocks and wading through the deep pools up to his chest is beyond his capability now. In his mid-seventies, he is slowing down. Instead, he sticks to the hiking trail that parallels the stream.

With every visit, the old Pilot continues to lament the changes to the canyon. Changes that destroyed some of the intrinsic beauty of the canyon. They were deemed necessary to help drain the water during the infrequent flooding. But the loss of the Grotto cave during one such flood, blocked access to the main door to the Guardian's Complex. This is the door where the Pilot always felt the residual power of the 'call'. But without the possibility of a Navigator the 'call' was never given to him... until now.

Anticipating the need for access to the Guardian's Complex, the Watcher has been systematically removing the debris from the Grotto. One more good rain, and he will have the Grotto clean and the door ready to 'call' the Pilot. The hiking trails have all been repaired and brought to the new picnic area. This is where the old suspension bridge crossed over to the old observation point. The US Forest Service will probably never get the funding to put another bridge in place. Instead, they will probably take the trail up the hillside to connect it with the existing back-country trail. Everything is in place. Now the Watcher will begin to monitor the daily movements of the Pilot, and the waiting begins...

Towards the end of summer and before the beginning of school, the Watcher's digital heart almost skips a beat when he checks the comings and goings of both the Pilot and the Navigator. They are both planning trips to the 'Cat Walks' on the same day. Melissa and Trista are on a late summer vacation to some of the local sights near their home in Tucson, Arizona. While the Pilot lives just to the east in southwestern New Mexico. His family is in for their usual summer vacation at Grandma's and Grandpa's house in the lower Rocky Mountains.

The Watcher checks everything again and again. The grotto door is active and ready to receive the Pilot. If only he would come alone. Even for a few minutes, it would be enough time for him to realize his dream had come true. He has finally found his way into the Guardian's Complex and the alien spacecraft that are stored there. And maybe just maybe he will get to see the young Navigator as she visits the canyon as well. This will be the first time Trista feels the 'call'. Hers is different, coming from across space and time. It's similar to the Pilot's, but from deeper within. It calls for her to complete the change taking place in her and for the two to become one. For her mind to open up and see past the reality of today to the pathways concealed in the darkness between the stars. Only through those can she find a way to a bright tomorrow for herself and her species.

Convergence

The Navigator

The day of their visit dawns bright and clear. The temperature will be in the low eighties today. Melissa and Trista, having stayed at the Los Olhma's Lodge the night before, have already eaten breakfast. They get to the parking lot at the mouth of the 'Cat Walks' canyon hours before the Pilot and his family are due to arrive.

As Trista's feet touched the ground outside their car, the 'call' hits her square between the eyes. Fighting off a wave of dizziness, she leaned against the open door to keep from falling. The intense pain in her head only starts to fade as Quiet and Noisy let their minds slowly meld into one.

A moment after they blend into their shared oneness, Trista gazes with a new longing towards the canyon leading to the east. Waking from her confused dream-like state, Quiet and Noisy separate and gaze around themselves. Their mother is near the open trunk at the back of the car. Trista sees her loading a couple of sandwiches and bottles of water into two small backpacks.

Melissa, seeing her deep frown, asks, “Are you two okay, Sweetie?”

“Yeah, Mom. Both of us are just excited, that's all. We're ready if you are.” Noisy answers and picks up their backpack.

The twins turn and follow their mother towards the trail head nearby. They quickly read the warning signs to watch for the notoriously bad-tempered rattlesnakes that inhabit the canyon. They're a common sight on the rocks or trail, sunning themselves in the early morning. Trista is simply giddy, hoping they'll get to see a real, live rattlesnake.

Taking the lead, Trista bolts up the trail. She only slows long enough to let her mom catch a glimpse of her. About four hundred yards up the trail, it splits. To the right is the handicap-accessible trail. To the left is the primitive hiking trail. The twins quickly zoom up the left-hand trail, but wait until Melissa waves them on.

The trail here starts to climb up a small dry wash. A few hundred yards ahead, there is a bridge across the dry wash. Zipping over the bridge, Trista comes to a skidding haul about twenty feet further along the trail. Just ahead in the sun-drenched trail is a snake coiled up asleep.

Hearing Trista skid to a halt, he lifts his head and starts to flick his tongue at the nearby girl. Also at the end of its raised tail is a six-segment, tan tower of rapidly moving rattles. The dry hissing drone they're making is an unmistakably warning: stay back or face the consequences. The choice is yours, little girl.

Trista, overjoyed at her discovery, squeals out loudly, “Mommy, hurry, come look. I've found a rattlesnake.”

Melissa, hearing those words, is moving with the fear of a mother for her child. Scampering over the bridge, she sees that Trista is okay. The girl has backed up and is watching as the snake slowly backs away from her. Bent on escape, it continues to put distance between itself and the curious child. Slithering up the bank next to the trail, it disappears into the hollow bole of a nearby live oak tree. Once inside, it disappears from sight into the darkness within.

Melissa runs up to hug Trista and asks, “Are you okay? Did it bite you?”

Trista giggling, “No, Mother. I'm fine. We were just checking each other out. He was just mad that I interrupted his morning nap. That was so cool. I hope we get to see another one before we go home.”

Melissa, giving her a gentle shake, said, “Well, I hope we don't. One rattlesnake is more than enough for me.”

They both laugh and start up the hill, hand in hand. On the other side of the hill is the beginning of the sheer cliff walls and the rapidly flowing mountain stream. In the next two miles, the rushing water drops about a thousand feet in elevation. Over, under, or beside a wide variety of rocks and boulders. The stream runs between two imposing, five-hundred foot cliffs of solid granite.

Melissa and Trista stay on the trail and hike the two miles up the canyon to the newly restored 'Observation Point'. Now, mid-morning, they stop to have lunch and enjoy the three different water falls that cascade down a large group of gigantic boulders. The overhanging north-facing cliff rises in a mighty wall of impenetrable granite, with the rushing stream at its base.

After their lunch, Trista spots a small, steep path that leads down to the stream bed. Climbing down, she beckons to her mother to follow. Melissa, careful not to fall, climbs down cautiously until she is standing on a small sand bar beside the rushing water. The melody of the gurgling water echoes off the granite. To the left, the stream has cut a narrow channel through towering sides of rock. Curving out of sight to the right, Trista and her mother walk up the stream.

The water is still pretty cold, and with the narrowing of the waterway, the depth is already up to the tops of their knees. Using the vertical wall of rock as support, they force their way up the deepening stream of water. Around the last turn is an extremely narrow crack in the wall of rock. The water is rushing out of that narrow crack with a dangerous roar of warning. Moving forward, the two women, one older and one very young, struggle against the strong current.

Melissa, frowning at the dark maw ahead, said, “Trista, I think this is as far as we can go, Sweetheart. I'm sorry...”

Trista is lost in the residual 'call' coming from the darkness ahead of her. Barely hearing her mother, she says, “Please, Mom, can we just try to get inside? There's something important inside. I can feel it calling to me. Please, Mom?” she begs.

Melissa, bending down, lets Trista climb onto her back. As one now, they forge ahead slowly. Grunting with the exertion of pushing against the strong flow of cold water, they creep forward. Until Melissa is able to grab the edge of the rock wall. Pulling and pushing, she's finally able to bring the two of them through the final barrier.

The Pilot

Two miles away, an old man walks to the front of his white Jeep Wrangler. Ignoring all the noise his family is making, he gazes towards the canyon and the suddenness of the 'call'. He has felt it whisper to him many times, but never this strong and sure. He can sense its insistence. The need for him to scurry up the canyon like in the days of old. But at seventy-five years of age, he doesn't scurry anywhere, let alone up the boulder-strewn canyon floor.

Almost in passing, his vision clouds, and he sees something quite wondrous: a narrow crack in a wall of rock. Water is gushing from the dark opening beyond. His heart skips a beat at the old, familiar sight. A hint of a tear quickly forms in his weathered old eyes.

How is this happening? He's seeing something that's been lost for a very long time through the eyes of someone else. But who? Watching for a moment longer, the vision fading, he's given a glimpse of a familiar, curved rock wall. But before he can contemplate anything, his oldest son calls out.

“Hey, Dad. Are you alright? You need to come get your pack together before the kids drive me nuts. They're ready, and you're not for a change,” he laughs.

Smiling at the collection of gangling youths gathered behind his Jeep, he smiles to himself. Three teenage girls and two teenage boys, mom and dad, and, of course, the love of his life are all glaring at him in apparent irritation. Moving with less urgency than he feels, the Pilot gathers his backpack and slings it over his shoulders. Closing the back window and swing door, he locks the vehicle. His oldest has already closed up their giant ass Ford Expedition. Following the meandering horde, he traipsed after the retreating group, heading for the enclosed outhouses. One by one, everyone takes a turn inside.

Joining the rest of his family, he walks down the water's edge. Bidding them a fond adieu, he heads up the trail while they start their scramble up the stream bed. His goal today is to stay with them until they get past the first set of narrows. Then he will go see if his vision of the grotto is real or not.

The Navigator

Using her arms and legs, Melissa moves them through the swift water until the darkness swallows them into the twilight gloom of a cavern-like chamber. Not a cave, but a large hallow space carved from the virgin rock and covered by gigantic boulders that have fallen from the surrounding cliffs of solid rock. The chamber is dimly lit with the faint light coming from above the waterfall and the crack through which they came. There are other smaller holes to the outside along the left-hand side. They also add a little more light to the interior of this water wonderland.

Along the back wall near the cliff face is a thirty-foot waterfall flowing from the stream above. There are also several smaller waterfalls that add to the overall grandeur of this hidden room. Rock, gravel, and smaller boulders litter the floor of the chamber, but to the right is a concave depression in the cliff face. The stream from the waterfall flows in front of a small gravel embankment that fills the depression.

Crawling off her mother's back, Trista moves towards the concave depression in the curved wall rock. Wading through the shallow water, she steps out only a few feet from the wall of rock.

Trista runs her hands, almost lovingly, across the rough stone surface. But like the Pilot, she is denied access to the Guardian's Complex. She smiles at the unyielding rock, and their minds merge again. To no avail, she can sense the trace of power here but can do nothing. Growing frustrated, she lashes out with her mind, trying to force the door, but still nothing.

In the shared space of her mind, Noisy and Quiet return to their own thoughts. Behind them, they hear their mothers worried question, “Are you two okay? I think we need to start back if you're going to scramble your way down.”

Trista's smile returns with a blaze of bright white, and she reaches out to touch the rough rock wall. With a final caress, she turns her back on the future and walks into the present once more.

“Thanks Mom... You're the best!” she says, walking to the edge of the stream and holding out her hand to her mother. “I think I can get down by myself.” Trista says it with a confident tone. Melissa smiles down with a loving glance at the little girl, who is rapidly growing into an independent young lady.

Hand in hand, they start to work their way down into the swifter water. It's a lot easier to go down than to come up against all that water. They move slowly, making sure their footing is solid. Once past the white water, Trista lets go of her mother's hand. Gripping the rough rock, she slowly lowers herself around the corner and slips into the deeper pool. A few good breaststrokes, and she's standing up, waiting for her mom. Melissa following her example is soon down too. A few minutes later, they have their backpacks on again and are walking down the trail together.

At the bottom of the hill, Trista takes off down the stream in a flash. Her tall, willowy frame moves down the stream bed with the litheness and grace of a seasoned athlete instead of a seven-year-old little girl. Melissa starts up the trail to the first of her vantage points to watch her child climb up and over the rocks. Truly enjoying herself, Trista soon reaches the swimming hole. Filling the deep pool is a small, eight-foot-high waterfall. There's already another family there.

There are three teenage girls and two teenage boys. With them are a set of parents and grandparents. The teenagers are jumping off the waterfall feet first. The water is just deep enough to make the jump safely. After watching for a few minutes, she walks out of the shadows to wait for her turn.

The Pilot's first glimpse of the Navigator takes his breath away. He has no way of knowing who she is, but he's instantly drawn to her youthful beauty. His grandson and his friend Jake take a few seconds to ogle the young blonde-haired beauty that just joined them. Long of limb and willowy-lean, she is a picture of perfection. Her pixie-like facial features include small ears, a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, bright, dark blue eyes, and a tiny, round-lipped mouth.

As soon as the pool is clear below her, she jumps. Slicing into the water, she hardly leaves a ripple. Popping up a few seconds later, she swims over to the cheers of the older kids. Instead of joining the throng on the bank, she continues down the stream bed. Trista looks in passing at the older man. Smiling happily, he waves at her as she goes by. Waving back, she has the oddest of feelings. Similar to the weird feeling she had this morning, but different. This is something deeper in her chest, almost an aching need. Smiling back at the weird old man, she scampers over the next rock and is gone. The Pilot watching her shapely bottom disappear from sight, calls out to his oldest. “Hey, Son. I'm going to start up the trail. Take your time, I will meet you at the top.”

His son waving back, “Okay, Dad. We'll give them a few more diving passes before we head up too.”

On his way up the trail, he passes Melissa coming down as she follows Trista. Still contemplating the unusual little girl, who was 'scrambling' down the canyon and her iridescent beauty, he finally gets up to the new observation point. The suspension bridge that crossed to the old upper trail head is long gone, but the stream bed below looks much the same.

Climbing down carefully, he starts to wade his way around the corner. Ahead, just as he remembered it, is the narrow cleft in the wall of rock. Dustin's mind struggles with the dark memories of this beautiful place. Each visit to the grotto was always a high point in his trips up the canyon. Even with another rejection, he still continued to answer the 'call'. For so many years, this place was inaccessible because of the flooding and damage to the canyon. But today it's once again clear of debris and waiting for him to pay the Grotto a visit.

Like Melissa and Trista, he has trouble forcing his tired old body through the strong water. But all the remembered rocks are still there to push against; his old hands find the place he used many times before to pull himself up. Finally, he walks into the semi-darkness of the cavern-like chamber. Sitting down across from the concave depression, he smiles at all the times he's gone to touch and feel along the curved wall of stone. The many memories of the rough rock sliding beneath his fingers are a constant reminder of the 'call' he could never answer.

Still, today has been different, unlike many of the others. He felt the 'call' much stronger today. The vision from outside the grotto, and now the almost painful itch of his right hand. Even the unusual girl 'scrambling' down the canyon by herself. To see such perfection in a little girl has already made his day. No amount of disappointment can take away the sights and sounds of today.

Standing, he glances around at the inside of the Grotto. He's been almost everywhere in this chamber at one time or another. To once again be able to sit here in his favorite spot and take a few precious moments to revel in the peaceful sounds of the waterfall or the water gurgling over the rocks. Aaah, such a simple delight.

Taking a step forward, he slowly wades through the water to the small sand and gravel bank in front of the concave depression. Looking down, he sees four small footprints walking up to the rough rock wall. He wonders for a few seconds if that same unusual little girl was here just a few hours ago. Standing right here, reaching out to run her small, delicate hand along the rock. Smiling at such a thought, he lifts his head.

Freezing in place, he gapes in wonder at the door outlined in bright neon blue. The domed doorway is very much like the door into the dwarven kingdom of Moria. All along the edges are old Egyptian-looking hieroglyphs. About chest-high on the right-hand side is a simple glowing hand print. His hand, almost burning with need, hangs at his side. He slowly raises it toward the bluish hand. A lifetime of visits flashed before his eyes. Many were standing here, looking at this very spot on the rough wall of gray rock. His hand shaking with eager excitement, the Pilot lays his hand upon the glowing hand print. A bright flash of blue light flares from around the edges of his hand and the rock. The glowing hand is suddenly gone, and the doorway remains steadfastly shut.

Dustin, annoyed by the continued drama, finally smiles and holds his hand up in front of him. Standing tall, he squares his shoulders and, with a chuckle, says the magic words from an old Arabian folk tale, “Open Seseme...”

Without a sound and only a few disturbed motes of dust, the door slides backward and then sideways into the cliff face. Exposed is a roughly four-by-four-foot alcove. To the right is a dark maw opening into the interior of the cliff face. Without hesitation, he steps through the threshold and turns right into the darkness. Turning around, Dustin watches the door slide shut. Slowly, the dim light coming from the inside of the grotto is extinguished. Left in the totality of true darkness, he smiles as the floor beneath him begins to glow in that same neon blue. It brightens until it is glowing a soft, illuminating white.

The walls of the alcove are made of the same gray-colored granite. Dustin reaches out to touch one of the walls. They're not polished, but they feel like a coarse grit of sandpaper. Above his head is nothing but the darkness of the unknown. Waiting patiently, he peers around him to see if there is something he's missed a switch or button of some sort, but there's nothing.

Finally, with a whispered chuckle, the Watcher speaks to him, “Welcome, Pilot. I have watched your comings and goings in the canyon for many years. It pleases me to finally meet you.” A moment or two passes in silence when the floor beneath him begins to rise into the darkness above.

“There are no magic words to open the door,” he chuckles. “It took me a few minutes to load your bio-metrics into the computer mainframe. You now have unrestricted access to the entire complex. I would advise that you wait to go exploring until you have more time and a few hours of system training.” Another short silence follows as the rising platform passes through several semi-lit floors and into a large cavern.

The floor of the cavern is flat, with several widely spaced lights located in the walls surrounding the gigantic underground space. But the most interesting sight are the other worldly machines that litter the floor. Large and small, they sit in neat rows. Fading into the distance, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of them. Some are long and pointed, while others are short and squatty. The most interesting ones look like some type of black bird-like ship with the wings swept forward and the back of the craft round and blunt. They appear to be resting on the wing tips and the curved beak of a falcon-head cockpit.

The view of the cavern is suddenly cut off as the elevator platform passes ever upward into the heart of this citadel of virgin rock. Coming to a stop, the Watcher speaks up again.

“Please hurry, Pilot your family is only about 35 minutes away from joining you in the grotto below, and we need to get you prepped for your return.” Leading away from the glowing platform is a glowing blue line. “Follow the blue line into the medical facility. I need to facilitate the installation of your basic equipment. That equipment will provide you with communication, medical stabilization, shielding, transportation, extra locators, and basic weaponry.”

Dustin hurries along the blue line and into a brightly lit white chamber. There are several unknown medical machines stationed around the periphery of the room. In the center of the room is a medical-reclining chair surrounded by different types of articulating robot arms. The blue line stops at the reclining chair.

“Please sit down, Pilot, and take off your shirt.” Dustin complies, almost moving in slow motion. He's tired, and now that all of this is happening, he's beginning to wonder what he's gotten himself into. But as soon as he's seated, one of the robot arms descends to give him some type of injection in his neck. The brief pain is gone in another instant. Laying his head back, he watches from La La Land as the robot arms do their thing.

He can feel them touching his temples and the back of his head. Next, they put some type of dark metal band around his neck, wrists, and feet above his ankles. The last two items are separate but seem to fit together. The top one attaches to the top of his sternum and extends outward along the bones of his clavicle. The lower part attaches to the bottom part of his sternum. Both devices are a flat midnight black. Within a few minutes, they slowly sank into the skin and bones of his chest.

A sudden surge of energy brings him out of La La Land. There is no pain or any outward evidence of the devices and sensors the robot arms place in his body. He no longer feels tired, but better than he's felt in a very long time.

The Watcher careful not to startle the Pilot, begins, “I'm sorry, Dustin, but all of those different accessories are only there to protect you during this transition period. Whether you like it or not, you're now the second most important human asset on the planet,” he chuckles quietly. “You briefly met the most important human asset this morning. Her name is Trista. She's only seven years old, but I think you get a feel for who she might become. She is a potential Navigator.”

Dustin's mind, feeling the residual effects of the drugs, asks in a confused voice, “Pilot... Navigator... What in the hell are you talking about? And just who the hell are you anyway?” he stammers, raising his hands to rub his eyes. His vision clearing, he pushes himself up and out of the chair and away from the robot arms. None of them are moving, but he's not letting them have another go at him.

An amused chuckle comes from the darkness above him, “Sorry, Dustin, I am the 'Watcher'. I watch over your world while the Guardian sleeps. You would refer to me as an artificial intelligence, but I am much more; I'm a sentient life form. Next time you're here, I will take you up to the control room, and you can see the Guardian.” The Watcher stops to consider his next words. “As for Pilot, that is the name given to you by our 'First Contact' protocols. You will be the first human to interface with the interplanetary spacecraft you saw on your way here. The Navigator is the only one who can interface with an interstellar vehicle. That is why Trista is so important. She is the only human who has the potential to be a Navigator. We won't know her status for another few years. When I feel she is ready, you can begin her 'Sexual Enlightenment'. She already knows all the basics, but it will be up to you to guide her through the twists and turns of human sexuality.”

Dustin just stands there, numb from the neck up, and looks at the pulsating blue line that is urging him forward. The Watcher chuckles again. “You did ask... I know this is totally overwhelming, but with a bit of time, you will be just fine. Remember all that frustration? Well, Alice, this is the inside of the rabbit hole. Rejoice in all this incredible change.” The Watcher's tone turns more urgent when the floor starts to pulse a cautionary yellow.

“I know you have many more questions, Dustin! But we need to get you back down to the grotto, and we don't have time for the elevator disk. So please don't panic, but they're about to climb inside, and you will need to be inside now.”

A bright flash of intense light is followed by a moment of utter darkness, and then Dustin finds himself back inside the semi-darkness of the Grotto. He is sitting on his favorite round rock, facing the now-closed doorway. Not far away, forcing their way through the swift water, is his oldest son.

Raising his head in surprise, he smiles at his dad. “I thought the grotto was still buried under a shitload of rock and debris from the floods?” he exclaims excitedly.

Dustin, returning his smile, points to the rest of the family trying to get around the sharp corner and all that water. “I think we should probably help them before they all wash away.” He laughs, and together they walk back to help bring the others into the semi-darkness of the Grotto.

His oldest turns as they drag grandma out of the last deep spot. “I'll never forget when you carried me through that deep spot with the water up to your neck. Do you remember that?”

Dustin slapped him on the back, “Yes... that is one of my favorite memories of this place. We almost didn't make it that day, but we did. There was water coming in from every hole or crevice in this place. It was almost like walking inside Mother Nature's indoor shower.”

His wife of many years wraps her arms around him and gives him a squeeze. “I'm glad to see you in here today. We miss you walking up the canyon with us. Everyone is always talking about Pop showing us this, or Pop doing that, all the way up here.”

Dustin gazes with love and affection at those around him. They spent a few minutes exploring and playing in the cold water. But all too soon, it's time to leave. With a final look around, they all head back into the swift water and half swim, half scramble their way out. The sun is getting lower in the sky, and instead of walking down the canyon, they use the trail to walk out.

Dustin thinks again of the little girl, Trista. He wonders when he'll see her again. “A seven-year-old little girl...“ he muses. “How can she be so important to the human race.” Then he laughs to himself. “Shit, why am I so important.”

Focusing back on the trail and the downhill grade, he hears the Watcher, “There are many in the world that could be a Pilot. You are just the closest, most qualified individual. You are the only one to visit the complex site over and over again. Others have come and never felt the call. Only you had the persistence to visit and accept the 'call' even though you were rejected time and time again.”

Walking along the trail, Dustin holds his wife's hand. They've been married for 55 years. Not thinking of the enormity of the change, the Watcher whispers in his ear, “You are a lucky man, Dustin, to have all these loved ones, but the 'call' comes at a price. You will have to leave them for a while. Your duties as the 'Pilot' will require your single minded focus. You will be required to undergo extensive flight training. At the same time, your physical body will go through a regenerative process to make you physically as well as mentally ready for the rigors of space travel. We will provide for the financial support of your entire family. They will want for nothing.” The Watcher stops as a wave of great sadness sweeps over him from the Pilot.

The Pilot's mind is like touching a block of ice. “How long do I have to say goodbye?” he asks with frosty concern.

The Watcher's reply is filled with his own sadness. “A few more days. Until everyone leaves for home. But then you must tell her goodbye. She will respect the 'call' and the need for you to do what must be done,” he slows. “Remind her of the old earth saying: the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few... or the one.”

The Pilot continues to struggle with the chaos of this new revelation. In parting, the Watcher says, “One of the warbirds will be stationed above your home. When you are ready, it will descend and pick you up.”

A half hour later, back in the parking area, they're all changing shoes and getting ready to leave. Grandpa is always unhappy when they have to go, but today he is much worse. He keeps looking back toward the canyon. It's like he's lost something and doesn't know where to find it. Finally, when everyone is already in their seats, he climbs into the passenger seat with his oldest son for the short ride home.

Dustin's unusual melancholy deepens as his children and their families return to their homes. Two of his grandchildren will be heading off to college soon... a junior and a senior. His youngest grandchild is not much older than Trista, and will be starting the 4th grade in a new school for the gifted. He's two to three years ahead in everything. So off he goes to join the other gifted kids. The adults are back to work in their day jobs. Everything appears to be back to normal, except for the Pilot.

Two days after everyone has left, Dustin's wife has to go into town an hour away to catch up on grocery shopping. She's in a great mood as she leaves the house and Dustin. As she drives away, she wonders what that crazy man is up to. He's been especially attentive and playful the last few days. Kissing and nibbling on her neck. He's even been a pest in bed. Not that she minds... their infrequent lovemaking is sporadic at best. Things just don't work as well as they did when they were younger.

Dustin waves goodbye as she drives away and, tearing up, walks back into the house. He pulls out a piece of printer paper and writes:

To the Love of My Life,

I want to let you know how much I love you now and in the future. A few days ago something from my past jumped up and bit me on the ass. Of all things, I was contacted by a government representative. They have a job that needs to be done by someone my age, and with my background in engineering. I can't tell you about this job or how long I will be gone. It's like all those years in the military when I couldn't talk about anything at work. I have arranged for you and the boys to receive my income. Everything I need will be provided for by my employer. So you won't have to check our account for any stray eBay purchases. I wish I could have said goodbye face-to-face, but this is another stipulation from my employer. Tell everyone how much I love and miss them. When this is over, I will be back to stay. No more time apart, no more tears to shed.

Until you see me standing out in the field, I will miss you every second... minute... and hour of the day. All my love.

Dustin

Dustin leaves the letter on her computer keyboard and walks out to take the puke green 'Zombie Hunter' flag off the side by side. Walking out into the open field outside their home, Dustin drives the fiberglass pole into the ground. From his wrist tool kit, he selects a portal disk and drops it near the flag. In a few seconds, it grows to about three feet in diameter surrounding the fiberglass flag. Stepping onto the flat black disk, he suddenly disappears without a trace.

An instant of black nothingness, and he's sitting in some type of cockpit. His clothes are gone, and he is now wearing a type of full body, black spandex. The Pilot's seat doesn't allow for much movement.

Par for the course, the Watcher pipes up, “Welcome Pilot. This warbird is now at your disposal. It is currently cloaked and hoovering at 5000 feet above the surface.”

Smiling like a kid in an ice cream shop he asks, “How do I control this spacecraft?”

“There's lots to learn, but for now you can control this warbird by thought or word,” the Watcher informs him.

“I would like to smooth out a few rough spots around the world. Am I allowed to do that?” Dustin asks.

“Yes, Dustin. That is one of your job tasks. Do you have one we should start with?” asks the Watcher.

“Absolutely. Please take us to the following coordinates: 50.4504 N by 30.5245 E. Maximum possible speed, please...” Dustin commands.

A chuckle comes from the Watcher, “We can not reach max speed this low in the atmosphere. We will need to climb to an altitude of 50 miles above the surface to accelerate to a near-maximum orbital velocity.”

“Take us up to 50 miles, and let's be on our way.” Dustin laughs aloud as the sleek, winged warbird begins to climb at an ever increasing rate of speed. He has the simplest form of instrumentation. Altitude and speed... Laughing internally, his Jeep has a better instrument display.

“Yes, Dustin, we are keeping it simple. We were approximately 6300 miles from those coordinates in eastern Europe. At our current speed, we will be there in a little over an hour,” the Watcher states calmly.

The hour flies by for the new Pilot. Reaching their destination, the Watcher puts them into a temporary geosynchronous orbit above the coordinates. At this altitude, Dustin can see a large part of the Earth's surface. Without being told, the Watcher brings up a halo display of eastern Europe.

Re-familiarizing himself with the map of the war-torn country below them, he asks. “Okay, if possible, show me the current location of the Aggressor's military assets: mobile missile launchers, shipping: both civilian and military within the customary coastal 12-mile limit, all heavy armor and artillery, fixed-wing and rotary-wing aircraft, and finally weapon and fuel depots.”

After each request, a different set of colored dots light up the halo screen. Red for combat units, yellow for support, and green for depots.

Studying the map for a few minutes, he asks the Watcher, “Do we have any high-yield proximity weapons on board? I want to minimize the loss of life, but I want to neutralize many of these military targets.”

The Watcher's electronic smile is lost on the Pilot, but the soft chuckle from out of thin air causes him to look around for the source. “You know that spooky chuckle of yours is quite disconcerting at times. So do we have anything like an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) that is powerful enough to eliminate these types of targets?”

“Sorry Pilot. I was just enjoying how quickly you're adapting to your new job responsibilities. Stabilizing your world is another important aspect of your duties.” A few moments of silence pass before Dustin's new AI buddy speaks up again. “Yes, we have a number of weapons available. I will not bother you with all their inner workings. We will cover those later in your training. Suffice it to say, we do have a stockpile of EMP-type weapons. Different yields, proximity ranges, and shape charges.”

A moment passes when another halo display pops up to the side of the first. Twisting in the chair, Dustin is now looking at a variety of EMP weaponry. A 3D solid model is provided, showing the shape of the weapon yield and the effective range.

For ground targets, he selected a hemispherical-shaped delivery with various effective ranges. For the ships, he selected several cylindrical-shaped delivery weapons. On either type of ship, you want to disable the bridge, command information center (CIC), and engine room. The cylindrical charge is shaped to penetrate multiple decks.

Finished, he asked one last question. He probably won't like the answer, but he had to ask. “Watcher... how many casualties can we expect from deploying the weapons I have selected?”

No chuckle this time, just a straight-forward answer. “The energy of these weapons is concentrated within the shaped effective range. It will be lethal to any biologic within that three-dimensional area.”

Yep, Dustin didn't like that answer. “Can we provide a 60-second verbal warning prior to detonation?”

“Yes, Pilot. That can be programmed into the detonation sequence,” the Watcher confirms.

“Okay. Please reconfigure as necessary and begin to deploy. Target the missile launchers near our current location first, then work outward, aircraft second, naval forces third, armor and artillery fourth, and depots fifth.” He stops and looks again at the great number of targets. “How many can be eliminated tonight?” he asks in conclusion.

“It will take the remainder of the night to eliminate 100% of the targets identified on the screen. The warbird will have to reconfigure and re-task most of our remaining weaponry, but the last salvo should be launched one hour prior to first light.” The AI paused to let Dustin think this over.

“Thank you, Watcher. You may commence firing. Continue to fire at will as the weapons become available.” Dustin closes the weapon screen and enlarges the target display. The spacecraft changes orientation with the front of the warbird pointed downward.

On the target display, words start to scroll across the top. “Firing position. Outer doors opening, launch tubes deployed, weapons armed, commence firing...“

With barely a noise, the first four EMP projectiles are fired from the weapon system. More words start to scroll across the top. Running time #1 = 1:36, #2 = … on and on, they continue to fire. Down one side is now a numerical list: 1, 2, 3,... As each weapon detonates, the word 'target disabled' is listed by that number. Followed by the words 'Casulaties' and 'Avoided Casulaties'. Each of those words has a numbers following it. Slowly but surely, the colored dots on the target display go away.

After nearly six hours of nearly unrelenting firing, the words scrolling across the top of the screen are: cease fire, weapon system deactivated, outer door closed. The final count remains displayed below the column of numbers. Total targets disabled = 296; total casualties = 430; casualties avoided = 3,119.

Dustin glares at the final statistics on the 'target display'. “Thank you again, Watcher. Would you please compose two messages? One for each of the leaders involved in this conflict,” he slows.

To: Aggressor Nation

   Military aggression against a neighboring country is no longer being        tolerated. You have two weeks to remove all remaining ground forces from             the territories you unlawfully occupy. Your forces will withdraw     without     razing the towns, villages, or countryside as they leave. Any breach of this     directive will result in further casualties. Finally, you will return all     prisoners of war and the civilian children that were transported into your

   country illegally. I implore you to take peaceful and appropriate action to     prevent further bloodshed.

From: Chief Pilot Earth Defense

To: Aggrieved Nation

   As of last night, the bulk of the Aggressor's military assets were     neutralized. Please allow their troops to leave your territory peacefully.     The Aggressor leadership has been given two weeks to remove their     remaining military units. Feel free to escort them from your country, but     again, let them leave peacefully. However, at your border, you may detain     known war criminals for prosecution in the International Court of Justice. I     will contact you in two weeks to help you rebuild.

From: Chief Pilot Earth Defense

Dustin finishes with a smile. Still smiling, he closes the halo target display. “That was perfect, Watcher. I hope 'Chief Pilot Earth Defense' is a reasonable title to use.”

“I think that will do nicely, Dustin. I will get your messages printed on some snazzy letterhead and deliver them to each leader. I will also put tracking information that will alert us when they have received their message,” he concludes.

The next two weeks are a blur of activity for the Pilot and the Watcher. By the end of that period, they had made similar visits to North Korea, Iran, Yemen, Afghanistan, China, Israel and several other worrisome radical organizations. The World News is abuzz with all types of speculation and rumors concerning the lessening of political tensions worldwide. Many of the governments around the world take a long, deep breath of fresh air and get about the business of taking care of their own internal problems.

After the initial few weeks of chaos, the Pilot started his training and regenerative process. At seventy-five, he needs to be a much younger man chronologically. He will be personally responsible for certain aspects of the Navigators final training. His body armor has already started the recuperative process, but Dustin will need frequent sessions in the cryogenic rehabilitation chamber for system overhauls.

The Navigator

After Trista's initial visit to the 'Cat Walks' canyon, her mother, Melissa, brings her back each summer to scamper up the rocky stream bed. Melissa always marvels at her ability to climb the rocks, both here and near their home in Tucson, Arizona. Melissa is always being dragged up Sabino Canyon north of Tucson. The four mile hike ends in a pristine part of the canyon called 'Seven Falls', though they rarely run with actual water. Other than the 'Cat Walks' that is Trista's favorite place to climb the rocks.

Other than an occasional trip to climb rocks, Trista is busy growing like a weed and going to school. Dr. Johnson and Melissa have done a great job moving her schools around. Getting her accepted into one gifted school, then the next. Finally, after four years, the tall, willowy, lean little girl has changed into a beautiful young woman on the cusp of early adulthood. She still goes to a local 'Magnet School' to practice her social skills. But even there, she is starting to be a standout academically, as well as a gifted athlete.

Built like a twelve- or thirteen-year-old, she has been running cross country and track. All her teachers are firmly convinced that she's holding back. If they only knew she was completing advanced degrees at MIT in math and science. While doing the same thing at Stanford in linguistics. All of it is covered by special scholarships for the 'gifted'. Trista's online classes are staggered so that both girls can attend their classes on either coast.

But even the most careful planning is often not enough. Trista's identity is stumbled upon by a curious trainee in the CIA. Once she collates all the data, she discovers that the same eleven-year-old is simultaneously attending both Stanford and MIT. Equally interesting; she's apparently a honor student at an elite Magnate School in Tucson, Arizona. Once her report is filed and read. Others, much higher up, become more curious. A small, specialized task force is formed to investigate and obtain a certain eleven-year-old asset.

Just after her eleventh birthday, Melissa and Trista pack up for their summer journey to the 'Cat Walks' and the canyon scramble that Trista enjoys so much. Trista is almost giddy when they pull into Los Olhma's Lodge for the night. They've been followed the whole way by operatives of the CIA's Advanced Intelligence Unit. They plan to take this little girl for their own nefarious schemes. But a certain young man living two miles up the canyon is ready to protect what is his.

Dustin is now a robust twenty-one year old man, physiologically. At seventy-nine, he often laughs at this reflection in a mirror. Now standing 6'2” tall, he is quite an impressive physical specimen. The Watcher and him have long anticipated this day, and tomorrow will start the next phase of the Navigators training. She is finally old enough to start her sexual awakening. Her physicality is blooming, and she will soon flower. When she does, he will be there to complete her training.

He has often been near her in the last few years, always watching and protecting her from afar. Now in the room next to her, he listens to the Watcher checking his data. Everything is in readiness for tomorrow. The men will try to capture her in the canyon.

Ascension

The morning dawns bright and sunny. Trista and her mom hit the breakfast buffet and are soon out in their SUV, heading towards the 'Cat Walks'. Dustin is already in the canyon, surveying the placement of the special CIA operatives. Their plan is to let Trista and her mom hike their way up the canyon. But when Melissa leaves Trista to walk back down on the trail, they will take the girl as she scrambles her way down. Their plan is to take her near the shallows, just before the narrows. There, hidden from view behind the large rocks, they will be waiting.

Dustin follows Melissa and Trista up the canyon. Like always, Trista is in her element. Wearing nothing but a pair of purple surf shoes and a two-piece yellow bikini, she is the perfect picture of youthful grace and long-limb beauty. Her willow frame moves along and over the rocky terrain with a litheness that is making him hard just watching her.

Trista's visit to the grotto is unusually brief. Lurking in the darkness on a hidden ledge above her, Dustin watches her cross the stream to stand before the door. Pushing and prodding the rough rock surface, she beats her fist on the unmoving stone.

When her mother turns to leave, she glares at the door a final time and says, “I know you're there. Why won't you let me in? I can feel you nearby. I know you are watching here and back home. Please...” they call out together.

Motionless, he waits until she leaves. Dustin, using the jump portals scattered throughout the canyon, ports down to watch for Trista near the deep pool where she swam briefly with his family years ago.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, Melissa comes walking by on her way to the car and her cell phone. Checking the data stream from the Watcher, he looks upstream for the girl to appear. The men, ready to take her daughter, let Melissa pass unmolested. Keying their communication units, they're now on high alert for the unsuspecting child.

Another ten minutes crawl by, before Dustin spots Trista scrambling over the rocks and through the deeper pools of water. She is moving quickly, irritated at another failure to gain access to whatever is behind that seemingly impenetrable wall of rock. Her mind and bones in her body resonate with the power hidden behind that barrier. Pissed, she walks up and almost falls off the eight-foot drop into the deep pool below.

Standing on the edge, their conjoined mind reaches back to a pleasant memory of another day. To the fun she had on her first visit up the canyon. To the family here and that feeling she had about that weird old man. Suddenly, a surge of mental power alerts her to another.

Scanning the bank, she sees a young man laying on top of a rock. Blending in with the rock he is hard to see in the shadows beneath the trees. He remains immobile as she jumps off the waterfall. Staying beneath the water, she holds her breath, wondering if he'll come and try to rescue her from drowning. “What a stupid thought,” she thinks. “Why would a perfect stranger bother to rescue her.”

Out of breath, she breaks the surface of the pool. Blinking the water out of her eyes, Trista pushes the wet hair from her face. Looking back at the rock, she frowns. He's gone; then she catches a slight movement to her right. He's closer now, crouched on another rock not more than twenty feet away.

Smiling at her, he says. “You can hold your breath for a long time, Trista.”

The girl, freezing in place, glares at the handsome young man and asks, “How do you know my name?”

His smile grows even brighter. “I know lots of names. Like Noisy and Quiet. But right now, you're Trista.”

With her legs threatening to give way, Trista almost collapses back into the water. Recovering slightly, she watches as the man jumps off the rock to land lightly on the sandy bank.

“I didn't mean to scare you, but we need to leave this place. Your mom, Melissa and Dr. Johnson did a great job hiding you, but not good enough. The CIA has sent men to kidnap you here... today. They're coming. We have to go. Please, it is time to see behind the rock wall.” finished, he holds out his hand to her.

Slowly coming out of the water, Trista reaches for his hand. As her fingers touch his, she feels the power of the 'call'. It's coming from him... flowing into her like a raging river. She can feel his essence surrounding her in a cocoon of warmth. Without knowing why, she slips into his arms. He pulls her tight and gives her a quick embrace.

“Hurry now. Get on my back. They're very near.” Then speaking into thin air. “ETA?” A moment later, he answers. “Roger that... 1 minute, 36 seconds.”

Without a word, he kneels for Trista to get on his back. Trusting this strange young man, she climbs onto his back, and off he sprints up the stairs and onto the hiking trail. Instead of going away from the threat, he stays on the trail. But after a few quick strides, he moves off to the left along a narrow ledge of rock. About thirty feet along the ledge, he stops and reaches out with his hand. He quickly sticks his fingers and thumb into a concentric circle of holes in the rock. A second later, a large rectangular section of rock recedes into the sheer rock wall. The doorway leads to a set of steep stairs to the left.

Dustin, hearing deep masculine voices on the trail, steps through the doorway, and toggles the door to close. Silently, it closes behind them. Trista slides off his back and stands in front of him. Smiling at the nearly naked eleven-year-old, he quickly takes off his t-shirt and slips it over her head.

“It is inherently cooler in the complex than outside,” he tells her.

Almost in a state of shock, she puts her arms through the holes. Still out of it, he scoops Trista up and starts to climb the stairs. As he ascends the stairs, Trista takes a deep, mind-clearing breath. The scent of him is overpowering. She's never been this close to a man, let alone a young man. With her head resting on his arm, she can feel the power of the man holding her. He has taken her inside the mountain. She's wanted this for years, and here she is inside with him.

They pop out in a gigantic cavern filled with what appear to be spacecraft. He glances down at her and then at the spacecraft littering the cavern floor.

Still walking along, he answers her unspoken question, “Yes, they're spacecraft.”

Jumping to the obvious conclusion, she tells him. “You must be the fabled 'Chief Pilot' no one has ever seen.” She smiles up at him, then asks. “What do you want me to call you? Chief... Pilot... Hey you, or something else?”

He levels those steel blue eyes on her and says with an amused grin, “You can call me Dustin, if you want.”

“Okay, Dustin. Where are you taking me?” she asks calmly, raising her hand to touch his face. Without knowing why, she teases, “It's a little too early for bed, but I'm game if you are...” shaking her head, she tries to understand the unusual itching need coming from her groin. She is getting wet down there... like when she tried masturbating. Only this time, Trista wants something different, not just a couple of fingers in the darkness of her room.

He stops, giving her a long, searching look. Finally, he sets her down on her own two feet. “Yes, it is too early for bed. Maybe later we can talk about that. Let's get you to your room. You need to call your mother. She needs to get back to Tucson and gather up Dr. Johnson. They need to hide out for a few days.”

Disappointed that he's put her down, she takes his hand as he leads her across the cavern. Taking her onto a rectangular platform, he pulls her close as it begins to rise.

Holding his hand up to his ear, “Watcher! Place a call with the Sheriff. Tell him there's a group of drunks bothering people in the 'Cat Walks' canyon. I want those CIA bastards out of here now.”

“Also put a call through to Melissa's cellphone. We'll take it in Trista's room.” He finishes as the platform slows to a stop. Walking down a short hallway, he opens the left-hand door. Inside a cellphone is ringing. Dustin swipes upward and hands the phone to Trista.

Melissa answers immediately, “Trista, is that you? Who's phone are you using?”

“Yes, Mom. It's me. Now listen carefully, there are CIA agents in the canyon. I can't explain, but I'm safe with a friend. He says you should head back to Tucson and gather up Dr. Johnson. You two need to go into hiding for a few days,” before she can ask, “Please, Mom... No questions. I'm okay. Really, I am fine. I trust him. Now go before they grab you and Dr. Johnson. I will call as soon as I can.”

Melissa is crying on the other end of the line, say. “Okay Baby. Stay safe. I love you both.”

“We love you too, Mom. Bye...” Trista finishes handing the phone back to Dustin.

He points to the bathroom and shower, then to the closet full of clothes her size. “Not as weird as walking through a door into a solid wall of rock,” she ponders.

“Were you expecting me today?” she asks casually, walking up to Dustin and presses, her warm litheness against the front of him.

He chuckles quietly, and wraps his arms around her. “Yes, Trista. I was expecting you today. Just not with the CIA nipping at your heels.”

Almost casually, she lifts her arms to encircle his neck. “Why didn't you let me in through the door in the rock cave? I know you were there. I felt the same power there as I do here and now,” she asks curtly.

Dustin smiles as the pristine little beauty looks up at him. Steel blue meets the dark blue of a mountain lake. His voice is hesitant. “I'm sorry, Trista, but I needed those CIA goons to focus on you and let your mother get away. She is on her way back to Tucson. I have arranged for her to be expedited to Dr. Johnson's home. I have left instructions for them both.”

He pauses to collect himself, but an instant later, he's falling into two molten pools of dark blue. Down, he plunges into the endless abyss of her eyes. Falling out of control, he finally comes to rest against something soft and warm.

Dustin's abrupt return to reality is precipitated by a quiet giggle followed by a heated whisper, “You know, for an older guy, you don't kiss that well.”

His bear-like growl gets a squeal of delight from Trista when he squeezes her tightly and presses his lips firmly to hers. He kisses her hard and long. His tongue, prying against her lips in the hope she'd open her mouth. Unsure of herself, she finally opens her mouth to let him in. Within moments, she moans into his mouth and tightens her grip on his head.

Their tongues dancing, probing, and slithering over each other, their kiss lasts for a seeming eternity. Finally gasping for air, they reluctantly break apart. Dustin's first thoughts are about her sexual education. It appears that, Trista has more than the basics down. All she needs is some practice with timing and application.

Trying to disentangle himself from the eleven-year-old leech-like female is impossible. He was hoping to gently coax her into her first sexual experience, but she seems determined to charge ahead.

“That was really fun. Can we try some of the other things I've seen in porn videos?” she asks coyly, still clutching his head. Only now, her legs are wrapped around his waist.

“Nope. She doesn't need much education...” he thinks to himself. She's already using advanced visual aids. “Okay, why the rush, young lady?”

She considers that for a few seconds, “I've tried masturbation, but that just made things worse.” She stops, then continues, “You just saved me from a bunch of bad guys. You're planning to take care of me, right? I don't know why, but I need you to show me this sex stuff. I just feel like I'm supposed to do this with you.”

The Watcher urgently whispers into his ear. “Sorry, Pilot, but her temperature is spiking. She's about to ovulate. That's why she's acting all weird right now. You must take her now. This is her best chance for the two to merge into one.”

Groaning in frustration, he grumbles to no one in particular, “What happened to a leisurely and romantic introduction to her sexual education.”

The Watcher replies sarcastically, “To be honest, your females are fertile way too frequently. This leads to uncertainty, especially with the younger ones.”

“Damn, this is so fucked up. Get one of the interstellar ships ready and at the bottom of the elevator platform.” He complains and looks down into Trista's glazed eyes. She is only partially aware of her surroundings.

Still clinging to him, Dustin carries her towards the bed. He needs a few seconds to untangle her arms and legs. Sitting Trista on the edge of the bed, he reaches down to lift his t-shirt up and off. He fervently wished he could have taken his time with her. He slips his hands behind her back and unties her bikini top. Lifting it over her head, he glances down at her hard little nips. They are pointed out proudly. He so wants to touch them, but he's in a hurry. Letting go of her... she flops backward. Arms above her head, feet on the floor, she spreads her legs for him. Soldiering on, he unties her bottom and pulls the flimsy material from beneath her butt.

She is such a delicate, long-legged, untouched preteen flower. The inside of her legs are dripping wet, and it's not river water. A whiff of her head clearing young pussy drifts up to add to the allure of this preteen hottie. Reaching behind his head, he retracts his flexible armor and stands before her naked. His seven incher is pointing skyward and is more than ready to service this fine young filly. Trista sees him standing in front of her and tries to reach out to him.

Her arm barely moves, but she seems to have found her voice, “I guess this means we're going to bed, right? In porn films, the guy gets the girl naked and then fucks her. Are you going to fuck me, Dustin? I'm ready if you are...” she purrs.

Unhappy but determined, Dustin kneels between her widely spread legs and quick coats the head of his cock in the slippery juices oozing from her tiny slit. Cock in hand, he pushes down on his twitching manhood and aligns the large mushroom-shaped head with her tiny opening. She's not technically a virgin, but Trista has never been fucked. Pushing into her brings forth a painful moan. Pausing often, Dustin works his way into her. First the head slips inside, then, inch by painful inch, the rest of the shaft. He's amazed that such a skinny little thing has taken him balls deep, but she has.

Rocking his hips backward, he slowly pulls about five inches of gleaming cock out of her sopping wetness. Pushing back in is much easier, and Trista lets out a low grunt when he bottoms out deep inside her. Slowly at first, he begins to fuck this beautiful little girl. With each deep penetration, her painful grunts and moans gradually turn into little mews and purrs of her growing pleasure.

As his own need for release grows, he listens to the sounds and movements of her body. Increasing his pace, he is giving Trista a good old-fashioned pussy pounding. He suddenly realizes that Trista has gone quiet. The only sound is the smack of flesh on flesh as he slams his heated rod into her abused opening. Her genitals are already swelling; she will be sore for days, if not longer.

Dustin is closing in on one massive orgasm when the Watcher chirps in. “Not yet, Dustin, just a few more seconds. You need to hold her tightly when her orgasm burns through her. She will be disoriented afterwards. You must call her back from the void. She's almost there. Wait! Now Pilot seed the Navigator and hold on tight.”

Driving himself into her, he gives Trista's little cunt a few quick jabbing penetrations. Then, with a spine-tingling, orgasmic spasm, spurts the first mega load of sperm-rich cum deep inside Trista's hairless kitty. At the same time, her body stiffens, and a bright iridescent pulse of energy fills Dustin's mind with the essence of the ascending Navigator. A nanosecond later, she's gone, and her body begins to buck and bounce around on the bed. Her shrill shriek catches him unaware, and he almost loses control of her. But, tightening his hands, he grips her narrow waist. Every few seconds, Dustin unloads another massive load of cum inside her. Finally slowing to a stop, he leaves himself inside Trista's vagina.

“Now Dustin, call out to her. Softly but firmly guide her back to us,” the Watcher instructs. Verbally and mentally, he calls out her name.

“Trista... Trista... Do you hear me? It's time for you to come back to me. I've waited a long time for you to grow into a beautiful young lady.” He whispers into the room and outward, using his mind.

Far, far away, he hears her say, “Dustin, where are you? I can hear you, but it's so dark here. The only things I can see are the stars. They're everywhere...“

“That's normal, Trista. Now focus on my voice and try to move towards the sound. I will keep talking until you find the right star. Remember, it's a dimmer 'G' class star. Can you still hear me?” hearing nothing, he continues. “If you get back in time, maybe we can go to the grotto and watch the sunset. Just think, we can go into the canyon whenever we want now. We can get to know each and every rock. Maybe watch that grumpy old rattlesnake climb his favorite rock. Anything you want.” He drones on, trying to provide her with a verbal homing beacon.

Trista collects herself. Floating in the star-filled void, she gazes around her at the sheer beauty that surrounds her. As she turns inward, she realizes they're now one. No longer separate, but one. Trista pivots in her three dimensional space and lets her mind follow the sound of Dustin's voice. He has such a pleasant voice. She knows he's still with her in the real world. Trista can almost feel his dick still embedded inside her flesh. They are bound now. She is his, and he is hers. Smiling at that happy thought, she starts to move towards him and that wondrous voice.

As she searches for him and their home, Trista lets herself dwell for a few moments on the pleasure he brought her just a short time ago. It was painful at the beginning, but then the depth of that delightful cock. The barrier between them dissolved in all that enjoyment. Embracing each other, the final moment of joining was punctuated by their transition into womanhood. A single tiny egg, the first of many, was released. Her mind merging, her body responding to the man and his cock, and the release of her egg. All that mind-blowing energy converging in a single moment when he releases his seed into her. Her mind and body exploded in an instant of galactic importance. And here she is, sweeping through the cosmos, searching for a small 'G' class star and the one who precipitated all of this.

There, more to her left, she senses him. He's nearer now. Plunging through the darkness, she feels him; then she spies the star of her birth. Swooping downward, she speeds toward the source of pain and joy. The memory of the pain quickly faded, and the joy from their union was growing by the moment.

Slowing, she pauses at the edge of interstellar space and the Oort cloud of her birth star. Wanting to be held and warmed by Dustin, she sweeps through the thin barrier of Sol's outer gravitational limit. Soaring along the elliptical plane, she passes several of the dwarf planets before Uranus, Jupiter, and finally Mars on her way to Earth. Her mind, extolling their beauty, is suddenly enraptured by the sight before her.

Drawing near her home world, she marvels at the abundance of life. There among all the green glow of countless humans are two separate red dots and three bright white dots. The one closest to the red dots is more iridescently beautiful to her mind's eye. She can hear his soft whispers of encouragement as he calls for her to come home. Come home to him.

Settling into her body again is not without a brief reminder of their coupling. He's still inside her. Softer now, but still so wonderfully filling. He's still kneeling between her legs, leaning over her, talking, and coaxing her to return. She lays there under him, smiling inwardly. She lets her mind's eye caress his handsome face. Her gossamer touch doesn't go unnoticed by the man.

His urgent whispers stop for a second. “So, are you hoping I'll fuck you again, or are you playing possum for some other nefarious reason?”

Trista doesn't answer but reaches up to encircle his neck with her thin arms. Intertwining her hands behind his head, she pulls him down to give him a reassuring kiss of welcome.

But before she can answer him, a deep, ancient-sounding voice booms from the cavern below their chambers. “There isn't time for more of your love-play, you two. We have places to go and important things to do,” says the Guardian in a grumpy tone of voice. “I'm trying to help humans enter a new era! And all these two want to do is mate again. Human's...” he says still grumbling. “Now go get cleaned up and bring her down to the ship. You've got ten minutes and not a second more.”

Slipping out of her tightness, Dustin scoops Trista up and heads for the bathroom and a quick shower. There are no fixtures to adjust. The preset hot water starts flowing from the rock above as soon as they walk inside. Laughing and giggling the whole time Trista is making it difficult for Dustin to stay focused. It only takes him a few minutes to wash the two of them.

Herding her out of the shower, they take turns drying each other off. Finishing, he places a flexible armor node on the back of her neck. Activating the node, she is instantly clothed in the same style expandable armor as his, only red. A minute later, they are walking towards the smallest of the round interstellar vehicles.

He rests his hand on the small of her back and encourages her to ascend the ramp into the spacecraft. Inside, the bear-like Guardian is already seated next to the Pilot's chair. Dustin points towards the chair suspended in the middle of a doughnut shaped ring.

Dustin, smiling down at her, says, “That one is yours. Don't worry, you've got this.”

Trista peers at the Navigators chair with a few understandable moments of trepidation. Mounting the steps to her chair, it swings outward to let her sit down. Retracting it takes her back inside the now glowing, circular-shaped ring. A spherical star chart lights up in front of the Navigator. In the center is a small 'G' class star with the name 'Sol' annotated next to it.

Trista leans back and lets the power of the navigational ring interface with her mind. Her eyes closed, she reaches out into the darkness of the void. Linking to the star map, she gazes with longing at the tens of thousands of stars surrounding her home world.

The Guardian glances at the Pilot seated beside him and asks, “Has she interfaced with the navigation ring?”

“Yes, Guardian. She is currently familiarizing herself with the star field nearest to Earth. She now has access to the first 100 light years of star chart data.” he answers flatly.

“Good, take us out,” he commands.

Dustin engages the cloak and takes them out of the hanger cave, into the deepening night. Angling their course upward, he gradually applies more and more power to the spacecraft. It takes a few minutes to leave Earth's atmosphere. Increasing their speed, they soon pass the moon while heading towards the asteroid belt beyond Mars. An hour later, they reach their maximum speed of nearly 5,000 miles per second.

Still nine hours away from the nearest interstellar jump gate, Trista leans forward and asks, “Dustin what star system is our destination?”

Dustin glances over at the Guardian, who answers immediately. “We are going to the star system Rho Indi. The fifth planet is Rilos.”

Trista smiles and says, “Thank you, Guardian... Pilot lay in a new course: 322.48 degrees, declination 24.16 degrees.”

Dustin, complies and begins to slow the spacecraft. A few minutes later, he replies, “Ship ready for hyperspace Navigator. Where to, my love?”

He hears a soft chuckle from behind him, “Second star to the right... and straight on 'til morning.”

The Guardian grumbles under his breath, “Humans and their cliches...” taking a deep breath, he says, “Take us to Rilos.”

“As you wish...” Trista answers and takes them into hyperspace.

The thrum of the engine's power core goes silent. The blackness of hyperspace lasts only 51.9 seconds.

Moments after their return to normal space, the ship's interior is filled an insistent beep, beep, beep... The Guardian leans back in his chair and revels at the sight of a large, emerald-green planet on the view screen. The blaring sound of the multiple alarms is music to his tired old ears.

His throaty whisper is filled with a simple joy, “Well done, Navigator. Well done...”

The End