the cross and the cosmos - issue 17

Greetings!

This month marks the 4 year anniversary of the Cross and the Cosmos! This year marks a lot offirsts for this E-zine, and I am proud to be a part of the history that we are making each and every day. For starters, we are opening to our resident new guy on the scene: Charles M. Bailey. Charles writes a gripping horror piece detailing the mystery of an Uncle's bizaare episodes, and a dark family secret. He is followed by two of TC2's favorite authors: Catherine Bonham and K.M. Carroll. Spoiler alert: "May the Stars Sing You Home" will leave you begging for more! When I signed that piece, the very first thing I asked was, "Will there be more?" Thankfully, Catherine's answer was: yes! Then get out your hankercheif, because "Knitting Honors" is bound to bring a tear to your eye. Especially to old grizzled war vets like myself.

The cover this time is a wave form that I, ah, altered for our purposes in honor of Catherine's story. The gnomes that captured it said something about it being from the sound or a thousand(Or just one actually) children being tickled. You decide!

Now for some honesty, you're not reading this! And if you are, you shouldn't be. These stories are simply too amazing for me to waste your time with my words. Go on, and get out there!

Blessings,

Glyn Shull

Founder, TC2

PS : If you haven't already, check out our facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Cross-and-The-Cosmoso

Table of Contents

Dark Within ... 4

May the Stars Sing You Home ... 22

Knitting Honors ... 32

Dark Within Issue 17

Dark Within

By

Charles M. Bailey

I'll never forget the look on Charlie’s face.

"Are we almost there?" I asked my wife, Erica, as we rode through the quaint town.

"Almost, Hun. They live just up the road, on the outskirts." That smile always made me fall in love with her all over again.

"I bet your Uncle Charlie is fit to be tied right now, having his favorite niece comeby for a stay. How long has it been now, a year?"

"I don't know, what, maybe last Christmas? We stay so busy; I have a hard time keeping up with time. It's been far too long though I tell you that much.”

“Well maybe we should have come out here before instead of waiting to see them at your moms. I mean , we’ve been married five years and this is the first time we have ever been out here.”

“I guess our lives just got busy from the get go, huh?”

"Yeah I guess so. I just hope Aunt Vern has some of her peach cobbler ready. I swear I've been craving it for a while now."

We rode in silence with the road moving under us at a steady thirty-five miles an hour. I looked at her and wondered if we would someday be the favorite aunt and uncle, or maybe even grandparents, which everyone would want to come visit. Maybe we couldhold the annual family Christmas party. The thought of having children and growing old

Charles M. Bailey 4


with the woman next to me warmed my heart

"So, when are you going to fill me in on why we’re making this trip? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that we’re going, but we never just drop everything to go visit family.

"Aunt Vern told mom that Charlie's episodes are starting to get harder on him-- she's scared that it’s dementia or something. So they called me to see if I could come up. They're hoping that I can might bring him back to Earth."

"Huh." I thought about that for a minute. "Hasn't he always had these episodes? You've told me stories and I've caught him staring off into space once or twice."

"Yeah, see that's what I said. He has had some strange ones through the years." She cracked her window to let some fresh air in. "I remember waking up to a commotion when I was a little girl. Charlie had come in covered in blood. I heard mom telling someone on the phone that a dog had tried to attack him while he was out walking. He ended up having to kill it. The strange thing was there was no bite marks on him. These little moments come and go and no one, not even the doctors, have ever been able to figure out what it is. "

"What happened with that?" I turned and looked at her, intrigued. This story had never come up before.

"Well, Aunt Vern just helped him get out of his clothes and into a shower as far as I remember. Who knows what took place after that. Aunt Vern came to my room to check on me and that was that. She never said anything about it. I never asked. It was like an unspoken rule to not ask about them."

"Wow, that’s crazy. I've heard of people forgetting stuff or slipping back in time and relive memories but never something like that,” I said.

"Yeah, it was. Especially for a little girl." She looked at me for a second. "I don't have to tell you not to mention this when we get there, do I?"

"Nope." I held up three fingers on my right hand. "Scouts honor."

I watched the town pass by my window in all of its drab glory. There wasn't that much to the architecture, brick and old wood siding were used in abundance.. The overcast autumn day didn't give it much help either.

"Sad,huh?"

I turned. "What's that?"

Charles M. Bailey 5


"This town. What time will do or leave behind. It used to be a thriving farming community. Now it's just an eye sore on a map." She flipped the turn signal. "You know they say that nothing grows here anymore. Not even the leaves on the trees."

"What happened, did someone get mad that there were no figs on the trees like Jesus did?" I chuckled a little.

"Jake, stop it!" She punched me in the shoulder and laughed as she shook her head. "On the bright side at least I know that you're paying attention in church?"

"Yeah, between naps."

"I'm not fueling that fire.” She rolled her eyes as she pulled into the driveway.

I yawned and stretched when I got out of the car, thankful that the two-hour ride was over. I took in every sight that I could as I moved around to get the circulation flowing in my numb legs again. The area seemed to have a creepy vibe to it. I shuddered as I thought of what Erica said about time. It really could make or break just about anything.

"You alright?" Erica asked.

"Yeah why?"

"Looked like you had a chill."

"Yeah it’s just the weather."

"Well, get our bags." She winked. "Unless you plan on sleeping in the car tonight."

"You got it."

I caught a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye as Vern came out to greet us. Her dark hair was in a bun. She wore a brown dress that wisped as she strolled off the porch. Erica ran up to her like a little girl, which made me smile.

"How was your trip, Hun?" Vern asked as the two embraced.

"Oh, not too bad, I guess, but we made it. It's been a while." Erica answered.

"Yes it has, Hun. Too long if you ask me." She turned her attention to me. "And Jake, how are things at that new church y'all been going to?"

"Oh not too bad. It's taking some getting used to."

Charles M. Bailey 6


"Well you're finally going and that's what counts I guess."

"Yes ma'am." I didn't know what else to say so I looked at Erica. She shrugged.

"Well, y'all come on in. This weather is just awful. Seems to stay this way year round sometimes." She held the door open as we entered. "Charlie's in his study reading again. I know he will be glad y'all came."

Once inside, Vern took our jackets and directed us to our room so that I could drop off our bags. Then we moved into the kitchen where she poured us all a cup of coffee. I found myself scanning the counters for some peach cobbler. To my disappointment, there was none.

"You will have to excuse the mess. It seems that we have more stuff than room toput it in." Vern said, taking a seat at a small breakfast table.

"No problem." Erica laughed. "Our home is about the same. Huh, babe."

"Yeah." I blushed.

I looked around as we sat. Dark carpet lined the floor. The walls were of old reddish-brown wallpaper with a floral design and dark stained wood panels. Lamps werehanging along the walls giving off a warm, incandescent glow. Though a little dark for my taste, it still felt a little like home.

"So, how have you guys been?" Erica asked.

"Oh, not too bad. We're making it day by day." Vern answered.

"And Charlie?"

"Well..." She got up to fix another cup of coffee. "He's Charlie. His episodes are coming in closer intervals than they used to. I'm not too sure what to make of it and neither do the doctors. I keep finding him outside asleep or coming in late covered in dirt. It's getting scary."

"I can imagine." Erica held on to Vern's hand.

"So he's in his study?" I asked.

"Yeah. He loves to read that bible and study up on demons and spiritual warfare. He's borderline obsessed with it. Every time we go to a book store or library he looks to see what he’s not read yet and, of course, makes me buy them."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I felt a warning bell go off in my head. "I mean

Charles M. Bailey 7


if he is losing it – "

"Jake!"

"No, it's okay Hun." Vern patted her niece’s hand. "I’ve thought about that a lot. The thing is, he really is coherent. He blacks out on occasion, most of the time at night, but that’s just Charlie. He's been like that as long as I can remember. It would be silly to take away the only true thing that can help him. Not that I could"

"I meant no disrespect. I'm just new to the faith and I know that that is some scary subject matter. Especially if your heart is not protected."

"Oh I know, Hun, it's okay." She patted my hand and got up from her chair. "I'm gonna go see if I can pull him away for a few. Be right back."

“Do you ever think about what you’re going to say before you say it? I swear sometimes I think you have dysentery of the mouth.” Erica folded her arms and looked away.

“Whoa, babe. I wasn’t trying to hurt or irritate anyone. I was just trying to fill in all the blanks. Demons and all that spiritual warfare stuff is a heavy subject.”

“Still you could have worded that different or something. Sometimes you’re just…” She looked up as if trying to pull something down to fill in the blank.

“I get it. I get it, okay? I’m sorry. I really am. I will try harder to watch what I say. Can we move on? Please?”

Erica took a deep breath and as she calmed herself. I hated the fact that I always knew the right thing to say to get into trouble. She was right. Sometimes words did just jump out of my mouth. The worst part was that after they were out you can’t just grab them and stuff them back in.

“Do you forgive me?” I asked after a few moments of silence.

“I guess this time.” She smiled. I leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Well, she seems good, considering." I said Trying to get us back on track with why we were here.

Erica looked in the direction that Vern had gone. Her expression told me that a memory was playing on her mind.

"Yeah she does. A bit stressed though." She said.

Charles M. Bailey 8


"Guess I would be too." We sat in silence for a moment sipping our coffee. I thought about everything that I had heard and seen up to now. It almost seemed like it was a lot to take in. An uneasy feeling was trying to take up camp in the pit of my stomach. I wasn't sure if it was a real warning from God or just my imagination playing its tricks on me again. "So, did you notice how quiet it was outside? I mean there were no people. No birds or other animals. Is it always like that?"

"I don't remember. I told you the town has lost the flare that it had back then. Plus it is the middle of autumn; a dreary day in the middle of autumn, so it's going to be alittle quiet out there. We're not here to talk about the town. We are here to help Uncle Charlie. So please put your over-imaginative brain away and help me out. Please." Erica reached out and took my hand. She always knew how to bring out the logical.

"Yeah, but did you see all the posters on the telephone pole? I'm telling you something ain't right." I said.

"Jake, I love you, but there is no reason to make a mountain out of a mole hill. Leave those thoughts at the door will you?"

"You're right. You're right. I'm sorry. Too many horror movies I guess."

"Erica is that you?" I turned as Charlie walked into the kitchen behind his wife, interrupting our little moment. For the better I'm sure. "You're looking as good as ever."

"And so are you." Erica answered, getting up to give him a big hug and kiss on the cheek. I was surprised. He looked pretty good for his age. Other than the wrinkles, gray hair and obvious dentures, he was very healthy looking for someone that is supposedto have dementia, in my mind at least. I could not help but wonder what the problem really was.

"And Jake. How are you doing?" We shook hands and he pulled me into an embrace.

"I'm doing well, Charlie, doing well." I answered.

"Good, Good. I'm glad." He patted me on the shoulder. "So. Tell me what's going on. How have y'all been?"

"Well," Erica began, "busy. We both kinda just work a lot."

"That's no good. All work and no fun?" The smile on Charlie's face never seemed to leave.

"You know how it is."

Charles M. Bailey 9


"Yeah I guess. We all gotta make a living, huh?"

"Indeed we do. But you. What have you been up to?" Erica asked.

"You know me. I just sit around and read. Study the word. Maybe watch a little television."

"How's that working out for you?" I intervened. Again, Erica gave me that look. I shrugged.

"Well it makes the time go by. Not a whole lot to do here. Especially for an old man like me." He winked at me and I chuckled. I always liked how he could bring out the lighter side.

"Oh hush Uncle Charlie. You ain't that old." Erica said.

"Sweetie, I ain't as young as I once was." He turned at looked at Vern for a second, then back to us. "Anyway, we were going to cook something, but I am in the mood for some barbecue and there is a great place downtown. Plus it will keep the kitchen clean and Aunt Vern can make some of that cobbler that I know you love so muchJake."

My mouth watered at the thought. I could not help but grin like a schoolboy.

"Sounds great. I could go for a good pork sandwich." I said.

"Great we can take the bus. There is a stop just on the corner and it will give us time to talk without having to worry about the parking and such."

"Uh, okay I guess." I looked at Erica who shrugged back at me.

"Alright then, I'll get my hat and jacket out of the study. Care to join me Jake?"

"Sure."

The study was quaint: Bookshelves full of books, a desk with disheveled papers and notebooks, and a lamp casting just enough light to read by. I walked around and looked at the various objects displayed all around the room. I picked up a large stuffed black bird mounted on a lacquered pine branch.

"Hey Charlie. Where on earth did you get this?" I asked with a smile.

"Poe." He answered. I pondered the answer for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant.

Charles M. Bailey 10


"Poe?" I was a bit baffled.

"Yes, Poe. He gave it to me as a gift."

Then it hit me. A black bird. Poe. "You mean Edgar Allan?"

"Yes. The one and the same."

The idea of dementia became clear. Edgar Allan Poe had died over one hundred and fifty years ago. Against my better judgment I continued.

"How is that possible?" I asked puzzled.

"How is what possible?" I thought I saw something flash in his eyes. Like a waveof light moving across them.

"Poe has been dead for some time."

"Oh I know. I miss him sometimes."

I found it strange that he spoke as if he knew him. A twinge of concern reared its head in my mind. Then I thought of a story that I had heard when I was visiting Baltimore a couple years back about the Poe Toaster. An unidentified man would go to Poe’s grave and make a toast with Cognac every year on the writer’s birthday. When he left, he always left the bottle behind. But one year it just all stopped and no one knew who it was. For a brief moment I found myself wondering if this was him.

"He got it from a shop in town, who had gotten from God only knows where." I didn’t hear Vern enter the room. She had come to check on us and overheard the exchange. "But he tells everyone the same thing."

"Indeed." Charlie said. But there was no hint of a joke in his tone. I could not help but wonder if he actually believed what he said.

"Oh I see." I didn't know what else to say. I cleared my throat. "Shall we go?"

The bus ride took us through a different part of town. I saw other people for the first time. Even saw some children jumping rope next to a dull rock wall. Even the outfits they were wearing seemed colorless. The blues and reds were faded and seemed to fit right in to the bleak surroundings. To top it all off, the song that I heard them singing through the open window made my skin crawl.

When the sun goes down and the shadows grow stark,

He comes to play within the dark.



Don’t go out at night, stay in your home,

For he awaits to steal your soul.

If you see red eyes, it’s already too late,

Playing with the dark will seal your fate.

I could not believe my ears. Children were singing about something coming out and taking their souls. What was wrong with this town? I was thankful when the light turned green. At least that color wasn't drab.

#

Dinner was as good as I hoped it would be. Much better than the fast food we had for lunch. A quiet meal at the local smokehouse. We talked a little about family. How our careers were doing, and other random things that came up. In all it seemed normal and took my mind off all the strange things that I had seen. Charlie stood and excused himself from the table to go to the bathroom.

"So." Erica spoke up. "Tell me more about Charlie. When mom calls again I want to be sure I have everything down. You know how she can be about her big brother."

"Yeah I know, this whole thing was actually my idea. But the thing is, I don't know what’s going on. He just has these small episodes, like what you witnessed Jake. As you know, they have been going on for years, but have grown more frequent of late. To talk to him you would never know that something was wrong. And when you ask himabout them, he just shrugs it off and changes the subject. There's really not much more totell than what I already have. And I already told your mother the same thing."

"But you explained that Poe thing away as though he told that to everyone." I saida bit confused.

"Yes, well, sometimes he gets this look in his eyes like it is a real story. I explain it away to keep guests from thinking that he's crazy. And me I guess." Vern said

"Wait, what Poe thing Jake?" Erica turned to me. Worry laced her beautiful green eyes.

I told her about the stuffed raven and the strange answer that he had given when I asked about it. She listened, absorbed. Once I was done, she took a sip of the coffee she



had ordered.

"Well that makes minute sense." She said.

"How does that make any sense?" I was taken aback.

"I remember as a kid he used to read me poetry by Poe. Poe was his favorite author from that time period. "

I thought about that a moment. I guess it did make a little sense. Maybe he was getting objects confused with some of his stories that he loved to read. This did, to my understanding, fall right in line with dementia. "Okay. So Vern. What are the doctors saying?"

"The doctors say that he's fine. They have run many tests and found nothing. No dementia, no Alzheimer's, nothing. It has everyone baffled."

"Huh." I was at a loss for words. I knew nothing about this kind of stuff. The closest thing to a medical opinion that I could give is what I read on the Internet.

Charlie came back to the table and sat down. He picked up his water and took a long drink. With a smile, he sat back and looked at his watch. "So, it's getting dark out. I think we should head home before it gets dark. Plus I don't want to miss that bus."

My mind went to the little rhyme I heard from those kids and how eerie the town was. Don’t go out at night, stay in your home. I couldn't help myself. Everything was just way too weird around here. "Why is that?"

"Why is what?" Charlie asked.

"Why do people seem to get all bothered and want to be inside after dark?" I asked. Not that I knew that there was a curfew. It just seemed like this place would have one.

"Oh, it's just a crazy superstition they have around town." Said Vern.

"What superstition?" Erica looked confused. "I don't remember any superstition."

"Well dear it's been a while since you've been around." Vern said.

"Okay. So what is it?" I jumped in, maybe a little too eager.

"It happened several years ago. Before you were born, I think. People started claiming that they'd seen strange things around town. Creatures lurking in the shadows and such. There have even been cases of people disappearing. The authorities never



have gotten to the bottom of it." Charlie explained.

"What kind of strange things?" I asked.

"Shadows moving around, late night screams echoing through the streets, animals vanishing. It was first thought that a wild animal had come out of a nearby forest. But there were never any tracks or any proof that there was anything in town like that." Charlie continued. "So, after some kids saw something that they could not explain, that scared them bad enough to cause a fuss through town. Folks stopped going out after the sun went down unless they absolutely had to. People that do go out, some say, never get seen again."

This story set my mind rolling. Looking at Erica, I knew that she could tell I was intrigued. I have always had an interest for the macabre. Even after I started going to church the interest never faded away. This story got my imagination going. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" Charlie leaned forward and took another long swig of water. "I think that it could be a wild animal. A wild cat or something. That would explain the crazy screams at night and the missing animals."

"Yeah but what about the missing people?" I asked. "And the lack of tracks?"

"I admit I have nothing on the tracks but people also tend get in the wrong spots and I don't think wild cats care what they eat as long as they eat." Charlie said.

"Huh." I didn't know what to say. I mean, sure the wild cat covered for most of the theories, but what about the fact that no tracks were ever found to prove one in the area. Then another thought crossed my mind. "Charlie, if you think it’s just a cat, then why are you so eager to get home?"

"Uh, well..." I saw something flash across his face. Was he hiding something?

"The thing is, we don't know what it is. It has been going on too long for it just tobe a cat. Plus this all started happening around the time that Charlie started having his blackouts." Vern said.

"Oh hogwash." Charlie breathed.

"It's the truth, Hun."

"It's coincidence is what it is." Charlie said.

"Well, the truth is there's no real explanation for it. It just is."



It was hard to believe. Something that just is. Whatever it is, it's something strange and evil. I did not know a lot about God or the Bible, being a new Christian, but this just felt way off.

"We really should go." Charlie stood up with a sense of urgency.

"Yeah sure." I said. Noticing a hint of panic in the old man’s eyes. "I'll get the check and meet you outside."

#

The bus was full when we got on board. We sat in separate sections. I stood in the aisle as the others found a place to sit. I took the time to ponder the things that Ihad seen and heard. Between the gloomy town of drab, the strange songs that children sing, and the seventy plus year old man reading about demons, it was a wonder that we hadn’t gotten this call earlier. Even if there is an explanation, I still felt uncomfortable with it all.

We came to a stop and some people got off. I now had a clear view of everyone that I had gotten on the bus with. I winked at my wonderful wife who smiled back. Vern was reading a book that she had brought. Charlie, however, was rocking back and forth and rubbing his hands together.

Concerned, I walked to the seat next to him. No one seemed to notice the old man that seemed to be having a medical emergency. I sat down and put my hands on his shoulders. They were rigid and muscular. I did not expect that in an elderly man. He wasmumbling as he rocked. Something unintelligible.

"What's going on?" I whispered to Charlie. A bit worried about what people were thinking.

Still the mumbling. I leaned in to try to get a look at his face, wanting to be sure that he was not having some type of stroke or heart attack. His eyes were closed and facetense. I could not tell if it was from pain or something else.

"Charlie." I squeezed his shoulders trying to stop the rocking. "Charlie. What areyou saying? What's wrong?"

"I c-c-can't. . ." His voice was a hoarse whisper.

"What?" I was trying to hear between his rants.

"I . . . Can’t let it. . ."



"Charlie. I don’t understand." Fear was starting to show its ugly head in the pit of my stomach.

Suddenly he stopped and turned to me, his eyes still shut. I will never forget the look on his face. "I can't let it out." His voice became deep guttural I shivered at the sound.

My skin crawled. Chills raced their way up and down my spine. I just noticed the people getting up and moving away. Like them, I was just plain scared now. Then he opened his eyes.

The same flash that I had seen earlier was no longer just a flash. The irises of Charlie's eyes were red and glowing. A tear of blood formed in the corner of one of his eyes. There was obviously something else with Charlie.

I let go of his shoulders and jumped back, scared beyond anything I had ever been before. I immediately had the urge to pray, but just couldn't get my mind or my mouth to form the words. It took everything I had not to lose control of any of my bodilyfunctions. This was insane. What in God's name was going on?

"Jake. I can't let it out. I can't let it out. I won't" His voice had gone back to normal.

I think I began to understand what was going on. Why he read so much about demons. Why I felt so strange about the town being so dreary. I remembered then the posters of missing people that were posted on the light pole. It turned out there were more posted all over town. Some of them were faded and dated back forty years. I found myself wondering what actually happened. If Charlie was the reason for so many. I realized then that the story the old couple had told me at lunch seemed to have a lot more truth than I thought.

"Charlie...tell me what to do. I don't know..." I looked around and noticed that more people were beginning to stare.

"Vern!" I yelled wondering where she had gotten off to. When I saw her, my heart sank. The book was now in her lap and now she watched with a blank expression on her face. I knew that I was not going to get any help from her, but I asked anyway. "Vern, what do I do?"

Vern only stared her empty stare. I saw Erica poke her head around a gaggle of passengers. The look on her face was of pure fear. Something that did not help the way Iwas feeling. I whispered a quick prayer.

"What's going on?" She asked. Her voice was hard to hear through the mumbling



onlookers.

I shrugged. I wasn't sure. I mean sure I made a couple of conclusions, but reality?Well I wasn't very sure I was living in reality right now. This was just downright scary. I had goose flesh on every inch of my body.

"Hey buddy, is he alright. Why is he shaking like that?" A young man of about fourteen or fifteen asked.

"He's fine." I answered.

"Are you sure? He don't look fine. Looks about near death" The boy asked again.

"He said, I'm fine."

I was floored. The voice that I had heard just a few minutes ago was back. It waslow and guttural growl. I could not believe it came out of Charlie's mouth.

"Let go." The boy’s voice brought me back. "Let go of my arm!"

I was startled at how quick the Charlie moved. The boy was just as scared. I could see Charlie was squeezing harder and harder, almost cutting off the circulation.

"Let him go, man." The boy had a friend that did not notice at first. "Dude, you're hurting him! Stop it!"

The onlookers were backing away pushing themselves as close to each other andthe walls of the vehicle. I could here yelps and yelling as others began to get hurt in the brewing panic.

"Charlie you have to let go!" I said through my teeth. "You have to let go."

"Uncle Charlie?" Erica had gotten up from her seat and made her way to us. A difficult feat through the thick crowd that had gathered around her. "Charlie you have to let go."

Then Charlie began to laugh. Only it wasn't his laugh, but that of something else. Something evil and not of this world. His laugh became more intense as the boy screamed louder. Cracks began to spread through the windows. The boy's friend continued pulling and yelling. Nothing was working. Charlie had a death grip on the boys arm.

"Charlie. Let Go!" I seethed. His answer was to lock eyes with me in anger. The glowing red looking right into me. I could feel something in my mind; in my soul, stirring. Or maybe just trying to get away. I all of a sudden wanted to die. Flashes of all



the horrible things that I had thought, said, or done danced in the front of my thoughts. I let go of Charlie and grabbed my head as the onslaught of a vicious headache came at me.It grew with a ferocious speed. I fell out of my seat and was on the ground swallowing back the vomit making its way up my throat. Wishing, praying that it would stop. Then, through the pain and cacophony of onlookers, I could hear the boy and Charlie let out a simultaneous scream.

I felt glass shards bounce off my head and back as the windows imploded. Everyone screamed and most hit the floor next to me. I heard the sound of wind blowing in my ears. I felt the vibration of tires screeching to a halt underneath me.

"God, help me," I heard someone whisper. Then all went quiet.

Several seconds passed before anyone stirred and I was not the first. I felt the pain in my skull begin to subside. A little weak, I made it to my feet.

Everyone began getting up, confusion on every face. Some were bleeding from the glass. Others wore fresh bruises from pressing against each other. I sat and watched everyone for a moment as I tried to regain myself. The sound of sirens approaching brought me back. That is when I saw Charlie and my heart sank.

Charlie was leaning against a crying Vern...unconscious. There was a trickle of blood coming out of his nose, ears, and eyes. His mouth was sagging open. He looked like he had aged ten years. His hair was thinner and had gone from a gray to a bleached white. It looked like this episode had taken a major toll on him. A fatal toll.

"Vern?" I said quietly. She looked at me with blood shot eyes full of tears. "Vern. Is he...?"

She nodded, with more tears seeping from her eyes. Shuddering with sadness, she cradled her husband's head closer. I reached over and checked his pulse. Uncle Charlie was gone. I breathed another prayer. I so wished that I had listened to my mother all those years ago. So that I would know more about what just happened. So that I could have helped in some way other than dumbfounded stares and quick whispered prayers.

Erica joined her aunt on the seat, crying as well. My heart broke a little at the sight, and, silently, I cried too. It was as if I could feel my wife and her aunt's sadness. Itwas more than I had ever felt before. We all sat crying for our passed beloved.

#

A couple of hours later we were all standing outside of the wrecked bus giving statements to the police. At first, I felt that we would be mocked for telling such a story, but after everything that this town had gone through the officers just took notes and



nodded. There was no sign that they believed it or not. Either way, I am not sure I believe it much and I was there.

They had loaded up Charlie's body just as the last of the sun's rays vanished over the horizon. Vern stayed by his side until they closed the doors to the ambulance. Once he was on his way, Erica and I took a place by her side. Since we weren't that far from home, and the curse--not that I believe in such things-- or what or whatever it was seemed to be broken, we decided to walk.

As we were walking away, we passed the young boy and his friend. I was glad to see that he was okay. It didn't seem to faze him as it would me. I nodded as we walked by.

"Hey, mister." I turned at the sound of the boy's voice.

"Yeah?" I said.

"Thank you for helping me." He tried to smile and it came across a bit dark.

"You're welcome. Though I'm not sure I helped much." I answered back.

"Oh you helped more than you know. For that," he paused and looked at his friend, "I thank you."

I smiled a little as I turned to walk away. I was glad that I could help someone in a time like this even if I felt a little disdain. I just wish it had been Charlie that I helped. I think I had heard Charlie, or at least I tell myself I heard him, ask God him to help just before all the windows shattered.

"Did you see his shirt?" Erica whispered over to me.

"I did." I answered.

"That was terrible."

"Yeah I know, but what can you do?" I was too defeated to worry on it any more. I just turned once more to watch the boy and his friend walk away...but they were gone.

I pondered for moment how they could have just vanished off the road when there was nowhere else to go. Then it hit me.

That last second, just as he was turning away, his eyes turned red.

End



Charles M. Bailey, or Matt as he is known by his family, is a husband and father of three. He worked many years in the restaurant industry where he spent time as a volunteer youth pastor for his church. In 2008, he joined the US Army and has since been deployed twice for Operation Enduring Freedom. Writing has always been a passionfor him, and he does it every moment that he can. He is now working on his first novel that will be a Sci-Fi Fantasy Young Adult that he hopes to have the first draft finished by the end of 2013.


May the Stars Issue 17

May the Stars Sing You Home

By

Cathrine Bonham

The warm ocean breeze caressed my cheek as I gazed across the bay at the impressive monument to our ingenuity. It towered fifteen stories from tail to tip. The widest section towards the bottom was nearly three miles and the whole ship tapered upwards to the tip where it would be just big enough for two. The whole structure gleamed in the sunlight like a newly forged sword. A sharp and well crafted instrument, ready to hew through the atmosphere and cut our way to the stars.

The ship sits on her launch pad preparing for her flight tomorrow morning. I tucked my long dark hair back behind my pointed ears and sigh. I can feel the Excelsior’seagerness to fly. The same feeling wells up inside me. The Excelsior and I have something in common. We were both made for the stars. I have spent the last three years preparing myself for tomorrow. I have learned every system forward and backward. In the morning when I take the controls, the ship will become an extension of myself.

The press conference was packed and the air vibrated with the ambient buzz of multiple people talking at once. My fellow Stellarnauts and I were displayed before the hungry news hounds, behind a long table. Attired in our forest green jumpsuits I imaginedthat we looked more like Janitorial staff than intrepid explorers. I traced the Star shaped patch on my sleeve, the golden N.E.S.I. embroidered on the white background glittered under the florescent ceiling lights. I pulled the provided bottle of water towards me and held it tightly between my hands.

The media, their many cameras leaving blue spots in my vision, were made up of all races. Naturally, I had expected the Elvin and Human media there and, with an event of this magnitude, it wasn’t surprising to see the Dwarven press. I was amazed to see Trolls in the back row. Trolls with cameras and press badges. I didn’t even know that Trolls could read let alone write for newspapers .

The buzz hushed as an elegant Elf dressed in a suit and tie, with dark, short hair, stood up from the table. “Greetings everyone. And thank you for coming out here tonight.My name is Verner. As most of you know I am the director of the National Elfish Space Institute. Now I am sure you are all eager to meet our brave Stellarnauts so I will begin with the introductions. On my right here we have Commander Tubalic Mission leader andpilot of our majestic craft outside.” The press clapped for him and more flashes went off.

Catherine Bonham 22


Tubalic, military, cropped hair and serious eye brows, the very image of leadership, raised a hand and nodded in acknowledgment of the press' attention.

“Next to him is communications expert Zelmunna.” Again he had to pause as the press took their photos and fawned over Zelmunna. In response to the attention she flipped her long blond tresses behind her neck reveling the slight twist to the tips of her pointed ears.

“On her right is Hermis our Medical technician for the mission.” Our Doctor sat there and gave the press no reaction. He had been against a last minute press conference insisting that everyone should be in bed resting.

“And rounding off the right side of the table is Aldren Shepard, whom most of you know from the Human expedition to the moon, twenty years ago.” At this the press went wild. I felt sorry for him, Shepard was a shy man even in his thirties, during his press interviews for the moon landing, I could tell he was already dreading the inevitable questions about him being the only Human on an Elfin space expedition.

“Please questions will be welcomed in a minute,” Said Verner trying to calm down the excited Press hounds. “Now on my left here is Regulis our engineer. The science team is Mealla, Yulla, and Tegra. Their expertise are Biology, Geology, and Astrophysics, respectively. And last but not least is Jael, navigator and Co-Pilot.”

I gave the press a nervous wave and returned my hand to its death grip on my water bottle.

“Now that you have been introduced, I will give a short statement about the mission before us and then open the floor up for questions. Tomorrow morning the space ship Excelsior will lift off with a crew of nine. The Excelsior is the first ship to use the new propulsion engine capable of accelerating up to half light speed. The ships destination will be the Gliese Solar System approximately 15 light-years away. Once [C

B3] There they will investigate three terrestrial planets that have the potential to support life. This is a voyage of discovery and exploration. Through the efforts of our brave Stellarnauts we plan to learn more about our universe, our own home planet and ourselves. Thank you. Now you may direct your questions to anyone of us at this table and we will do our best to answer them.” With that Verner sat down.

The Media was a mass of noise and waving arms as each reporter fought to be thefirst one to voice a question. Verner was forced to stand up again. He motioned for quiet and then gave the press dressing down they apparently needed. “Please we are here as a civilized people to talk of great advancements to that aforementioned civilization. So please one question at a time.” Verner was wearing what I called his moderator face. It was an eyebrows down, straight lipped, no nonsense, expression that told everyone that

Catherine Bonham 23


his word was law. “Now who has a question for Col. Shepard?”

A number of hands shot up, each one stretching as high as they could, hoping the highest would be chosen.

Aldren and Verner looked over the patently waiting reporters and selected a Dwarven reporter from the back. Having been singled out from the pack the Dwarf stood up, though this action didn't help much[Unknown A4] . “Col. Shepard, it is my understanding that this voyage, round trip, even with the advancements made to your propulsion system, will be in excess of two hundred years. Aren’t you concerned that youwill be long dead before you even reach your destination?”

Aldren’s face was serious as he nodded and prepared an answer, “That is a very good question and I admit it was a major factor in my decision to join this crew.” Aldren took a breath, the effort of talking to the press was already getting to him. “I have Three revelations for you. First, you need to know that while I was up in orbit for the moon mission I fell in love. With the universe. I can say with peace in my heart that there is no other place I would rather spend my final years. Secondly, you have forgotten about the effects of Relativity, I will age much slower during our space journey than I would in the same amount of time on earth. Third, you need to know that the only family I have left onthis world is my great, great, great Grandmother.” The press gasped in unison. “That’s right,” continued Aldren, “I am not fully human. So whose to say if I’ll die in space or not. I might not have inherited her pointy ears but I am fifty-five and still fit as a fiddle.”

Hands shot up again in a race to see who would ask the next question. Verner looked them over and settled on a Human seated near the center of the pack. The man stood up and addressed Aldren, “Forgive me if I missed this earlier but what was to be your position on the spacecraft?”

Aldren had just opened his mouth to answer when Verner signaled to him. “If I may answer this question please?” Aldren nodded looking relived to not be the center of attention. “You see Space exploration is still in it’s youth, less than fifty years old; it is anexperimental field in which experienced professionals are hard to come by. And that is Col. Shepard’s contribution. Experience. He will help the crew adjust to zero gravity, to the phenomenon of waking up every morning and seeing stars outside your window, and most importantly he is an expert space walker.”

Regulis chose then to add one of his wise cracks, “That means when there’s something I can’t fix from inside we get to throw him off the ship.” He certainty knew how to play to the crowd. Because the press broke out in open laughter not the awkward twittering I had been expecting.

“Yes very amusing Regulis, Perhaps we should move on to another crew member

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now. Down at the other end of the table is Jael, does anyone have a question for her?” I was both honored and scared to see so many hands shoot upward; each one representing aquestion for me. I looked through the sea of faces and connected with an elfin reporter, her face seemed anxious to know something. I singled her out. She rose at the same pace that her disappointed peers lowered their hands exaggerating her assent.

“At only thirty years old you are not only the youngest member of the crew but you are also very young for an Elf. Why were you selected for this exploration as opposed to someone with more experience?”

I could feel my face fall in disappointment. Of all the questions I had to choose the person who was asking this one. Then I felt worse. What if everyone had been waiting to ask this same question? No matter who I had picked they would have told me Iwas too young. “I think, I wanted it more,” I finally managed to say.

Thankfully, Verner stood up to save me. “She is absolutely right. Rest assured thatwe did rigorous testing and training to weed out anyone who could not do the job. When it finally came down to the best versus the best we needed a new way to narrow down thefield. Anyone who had a Family or people they would miss, was out. Anyone who was just in it for the glory and the fame was out. And when it came down to Jael and one other. Jael wanted it more than the other candidate. He gracefully bowed out. I am one hundred percent positive that Jael is the best navigator we could possibly have on this mission.” Verner sat back down and put his moderator face back on. “One more question for Jael then we will move on.”

The hands went up again, though this time hesitantly with fewer of them hanging in the air. Looking through the candidates of raised hands I noticed that one of the trolls had his hand up. Curious, I called on him. He rose to his feet, seemingly pleased to be recognized as member of the press.

“Why?”

I was taken aback. “Why What?” I responded.

“Sorry,” he said, “why did you want it more? Why go into Space? Everything, provided on planet, on home world, Why leave home?”

I could tell that he struggled with common speak but I understood the question. What’s more I knew how to answer him. I stood up and motioned to Verner to stop rising.“I don’t feel like this planet is home. As you can infer from Verner’s answer to the previous question, I don’t have a family anymore. But even before my life became a tragedy I was completely entranced by the stars. I have studied them my whole life I know where every one of them is and how far away each one is and what they’re made of. To me traveling the stars would be going home not leaving home.

Catherine Bonham 25


“There are many who have theorized that Elves might not be of this world. Our longevity, intelligence, and even our beauty lead many to conclude that we came from a different planet. But my favorite explanation is an ancient story about the creation of the races.

“ In the early days there was one race. This race rebelled and was destroyed except for four brothers, Elvan, Dwarfold, Trollius and Human, who were faithful to theircreator. The creator had hidden the brothers in a deep cave until the judgment was over. When they came out, the four brothers lamented that there were no women left with which to rebuild the world. So the creator made each brother a partner to begin a new race with. For Elvan the oldest of the four brothers the creator pulled a star from the sky and fashioned it into a female. Elvan was pleased and took her as his wife. Their children became the race of Elves.

“They turned heavenward, studying the stars their kin. The stars are used for navigation, foretelling the future, and tracking the passage of time. In Elvin culture the star features in our most ancient forms of art. Elves have been known to make our homes in the tallest tees the highest mountains and the largest skyscrapers. Can anyone deny thatit is Elvish nature to reach towards the stars?

“So you see I am just trying to find my family.” I sat down and resumed clutchingmy water bottle. I was surprised at myself for talking so long to a room full of strangers. The room full of strangers was surprised as well. It was an old legend one that was no longer widely excepted as fact. I knew I would be known as a religious nut till the end of time.

The press conference continued, though I no longer felt involved. The remaining questions were technical, directed towards the scientific members of our crew. As my nerves dulled into boredom my grip on the water bottle loosened. An hour later, the last question is asked, the last flash left a colored block in my eyes, and my now empty water bottle dropped into the recycling bin.

The next morning finds me and the Stellarnauts up before sunrise. We each choose our favorite foods for breakfast. I grab a bowl of glazed corn puffs and pour a generous helping of milk over it. I also have a plate of bacon, eggs with cheese, and a cream cheese Danish.

I sit down at a table with Tubalic, Aldren, and Regulis. They stare at my feast and then glance up at my petite figure. “Come on it’s not like I’ll get to eat like this again for years.” I say in my defense.

“Once we lift off, you are going to regret having a full stomach,” said Aldren.

Catherine Bonham 26


“You may not have thrown up during all of your training but you haven’t felt sick until you’re shooting out of the atmosphere at the speed of a firework. By the time you take your first breath you realize that your stomach is back on Earth. Then your stomach catches up to you.”

I would have laughed if Aldren’s face hadn’t been so serious. I stared at my plate of food and pushed the eggs around a little. He had done this before. I glanced to see what he was having for breakfast. Aldren had on his plate a slice of toast—buttered, with Orange slices and Grapes.

Thankfully, Regulis broke the awkwardness with: “Come on Aldren, give her a break. Hey this is our last meal on Earth. Who’s up for some Waffles?” He waited but nobody laughed. The reminder that this was our last meal had struck a morbid nerve. I managed a halfhearted grin to thank him for the support.

Regulis clapped his hands together. “Ok just me then. I’ll be right back.” He said getting up from the table.

It is quiet at the table until Tubalic speaks up. “That was a good answer you gave the reporter last night. Do you really believe that story about being descended from a star?”

I was surprised that Tubalic would be the one to breach this subject. He had always been mission oriented and logical. “I do.” I told him.

Aldren peeled the outer ring from one of his orange slices and then looked at me. “You know, my Great Grandma used to tell me that story. She always said that was why she had decided to marry a Human. Because if we had started out as one race then maybewe could be one race again.” Then he put his Orange slice in his mouth and said no more.

I’m strapped in tight to my seat, with barely enough give to reach forward and flipmy switches and push my buttons on the blinking displays. Tubalic is in the seat on my left. “Prepare to mix fuel on my mark,” he said.

I heard his order through my headset and replied, “Aye Sir.”

“Mark,” he said.

I leaned forward and flipped the switch that would combine the two rocket fuels used in the boosters that would push us off the planet.

“Fuel mixture complete commander. Ready for lift off.” The words came easily to

Catherine Bonham 27


my lips after months of rehearsal.

“Ten seconds,” said the computerized count down.

“Engaging engine,” Tubalic pressed a large button near him on the console. The rumble underneath me grew louder as Excelsior became more restless to leave the planet behind.

The count down announced Zero seconds, “Liftoff,” said Tubalic as he Pushed another Button. The Ship and I roared with glee. We were both excited to be leaving the bonds of earth behind and finally going homeward.

I was grateful for how tightly I was strapped in when I found myself pasted to the back of my seat. Aldren had been right at breakfast, I felt the hollow pit of where my stomach used to be and began dreading the moment when my prodigal organ would spring back into place.

Finally the sky transitioned into twilight and then into the midnight black of Outerspace. I was in awe of how bright the stars were. For years I studied the stars through the imperfect filter of our planets atmosphere. Now, with nothing but a sheet of transparent steel between us, I could see them as they truly were.

The headsets crackled with static as mission control contacted us. Verner’s voice spoke in my ear, “Congratulations on a safe launch everyone. Have a safe Flight and maythe Stars sing you home. See you in a couple centuries.” May the stars sing you home. The elfish farewell, traditionally reserved for long sea voyages, was doubly appropriate inthis context.

“Thank you mission control, we’ll see you then.” Tubalic lifted off his bulky helmet and let in float in front of him as he reached up and pressed in the small, red, intercom button. “We are on our way out of orbit. You can all unbuckle now.”

I undid my straps and turned around to see how Aldren and Zelmunna were doing.They had both already un-strapped and removed their helmets. Zelmunna’s hair floated around her head like rays of light shooting from her head. I caught her smiling in awe of her helmet in front of her, just sitting in the air waiting for the moment when it would be allowed to finally drop to the floor.

“Hey kiddo, did your stomach catch up yet?” Aldren asked me.

I gave him a thumbs up sign and said, “Yes, and it wants to know if we can do that again.”

Catherine Bonham 28


Three weeks into the mission, we hit something on our way through the asteroid belt. It couldn’t have been more than a dent, but Tubalic didn’t want to take any chances.

I was sitting in the co-pilots seat going over a mysterious signal that Zelmunna had picked up. The source was impossible to triangulate as it seemed to be coming from all around us. The actual message, if there was one, was incoherent sometimes it soundedlike words and at other times it sounded like some kind of musical scale. I was messing around with the sections that resembled music trying to create a melody from amidst the noise. I thought I was on to something when I heard a knock on the wall behind me. I turned around and saw Aldren hovering by the door to the corridor.

“Hey kid, how’d you like to go outside and take a walk?” he asked.

I was nervous, that first time. It was so scary with nothing between me and the vacuum of space but a suit made of three layers of a strong elfish weave and pressurized with a mixture of oxygen and nitrogen. Space was so huge. Up close, without walls, it was easy to get lost in the blackness.

Aldren and I walked along the hull of the spaceship using our magnetic boots. It was really more of a shuffle than a walk. We found the point of impact easily enough; it was the section of hull that was caved inward. The damage might have been easily fixed if it hadn’t been for the large antenna relay that was on the edge of the indent. In order to replace the smashed section of paneling Zelmunna would have to shut down our communications. “Ok Jael, here’s how we’re going to do this, First we are going to grab alarge sheet of paneling from the outer hull storage area. Then we just unbolt this one and replace it with the new one. Do you think that you can do this without communicating?”

I nodded my assent.

“Good girl,” he said. “Zelmunna, on my mark I need you to shut down all power to our communications grid. There is a small window near me. Looking in I would say that it’s somewhere in one of the science labs. Probably Biology there is a very large Spider floating in a cage. Send someone to this window. When We have the outer hull replaced I will give them a thumbs up for you to turn on communications again.”

Twenty seconds later Mealla showed up in the lab’s window.

“Ok Zelmunna shut it down.”

When the communications went off it got real quiet. I had never noticed the subtleinterference patterns of all our communications until it wasn’t there anymore.

Catherine Bonham 29


We took the new plating and secured it near us with a magnetic lock. Then we unbolted the dented plate. Without gravity it came up easily. Too easily. It whacked against the antenna and I cringed at the thought of the feedback we would have heard hadthe communication been on. We managed to bring the plate back down and secure it to the hull. We would take it inside and try to hammer it back into shape for emergency use.

Throughout the whole procedure the melody I had been messing with played inside my head. Amazed at the way a change of task can help the mind unravel problems I found myself humming the cosmic melody. Until I realized that it wasn’t in my head. I was hearing it. Very faintly, but it was there nonetheless.

We drove the last bolt into place and Aldren gave Mealla the thumbs up to turn communications back on. As soon as they were active again I lost the melody.

As we shuffled back towards the airlock with the dented sheet of hull, I asked Aldren if he had heard anything while communications were off.

“Sorry kid, No. Why what did you hear?”

“It was a melody, very faint, almost like a song that you can’t really remember butit plays inside your head anyway. Do you think I’m crazy.”

“Not at all Kid. Could be that my ears just aren’t pointy enough to pick it up.” He paused in his shuffling and stared at me. “What do you think it was?” he asked.

“I think it’s the stars,” I said. “The stars are singing us home.”

Catherine Bonham 30


Cathrine Bonham has always enjoyed reading and writing stories. She was home schooled from Kindergarten through 12th grade and is now a Graduate of Owens community college where she majored in creative writing. She has previously had a shortstory ("Twelve Years Later") and a creative essay ("The Life of a Library Book") published in the Spring 2009 edition of Pathways: The Literary and Art Journal of OwensCommunity College. Stories previously featured in Cross and Cosmos Issue #4 and #7. She likes to post random thoughts and observations on her blog atwww.dolphin18cb.wordpress.com stop by and check it out.

Catherine Bonham 31

Knitting Honors Issue 17

Knitting Honors

by

K. M. Carroll

Captain Conrad Jefferies walked down the Pulsar's main hallway, balancing two plates of sandwiches and two cups of synthetic coffee. He tried to scrunch himself aside for passing crew, but his muscular body didn't compress much. Everyone greeted the captain with a smile. Six months in deep space was a long time, even for a research vessel, and the homeward journey had improved morale.

The cockpit security door slid open as he reached it, and co-captain Mitchell David greeted him with a white grin straight out of a toothpaste commercial. "You get mycoffee and pastrami?"

Jefferies passed him a plate and cup. "Just the way you like it. Synthetic."

David swigged his coffee. "So, you gotten started on that project for your wife?"

Jefferies snorted. "No."

Before the Pulsar's departure, Jefferies's wife Becky had given him a beginner's knitting kit. "For those long hours between stars," she had said. The kit contained three vast balls of yarn, needles, a pattern booklet, and an instructional video.

"What'll Becky say when you get home and you haven't even threaded a needle?" David said, grinning.

"I'll tell her I was too busy." Jefferies would rather jump out of the airlock withouta suit than touch that bag of yarn.

As they ate, Jefferies watched the nav screens. The Pulsar orbited star Kruger 60. Her fuel cells were drained from a twelve-hour jump. All her solar panels were extended to absorb the star's radiation, seeming to cover the narrow, pencil-like ship in ruffled feathers. But the cells were only half-recharged when an alert pinged through the cockpit.Incoming message. Captain Jefferies swallowed the last bite and accepted it.

A window opened on his screen with a college-aged technician. "Captain, this is ensign Mark, down at Computation. There's a bogey matching our speed at seven o'clock.

K.M. Carroll 32


I'm sending the scan to your channel."

At the same time, the computer displayed an Incoming Hostile alert with a moving map of both ships.

Good thing he'd had all that coffee. He glanced at David's dismayed face, then down at the solar recharge meter. Six hours left.

Jefferies called up the scan. A Spur craft flickered on his screen, like a potato covered in needles.

"Ensign Mark, focus detail scans on that ship. I want as much information as possible." Jefferies switched intercom channels. "This is an all-ship alert. Spur craft on course to intercept. All crews go to battle stations."

Feet pounded in the distance. A map of the Pulsar appeared on his screen, each sector blinking green to indicate readiness. It echoed his own rising adrenaline. "David, give me options!"

David's fingers flew over his touch screens. "At their speed, they'll intercept in thirty minutes. We can't hyper jump until we reach full power. We'd drop into deep space with no way to recharge."

"I said options, David. Tell me what I can do."

Sweat trickled down David's face. "We can run at the star. Closer proximity will speed up recharge. We can jump before the gravity well pulls us in."

Jefferies dug his fingernails into his armrests, eyes flicking from screen to screen. Star proximity was a tricky beast, and every star had its own peculiar quirks. One mistakeand he'd incinerate his ship. But the Spurs were closing in and the Pulsar lacked power. What choice did he have?

"Change course."

"Sir, it will only cut recharge down to four hours."

Jefferies pointed at his screen. "They'll see our course and break off attack. They're not insane."

A red laser beam sliced across the stars outside their viewport.

"No, only bloodthirsty." David wiped his face with one sleeve. "Changing course. Switching full shields to rear."

K.M. Carroll 33


Jefferies hovered over the control panel, heart hammering against his ribs. The star's proximity meter rose every second, but so did the alien ship's. And the alien ship was several million klicks closer.

It fired another laser bolt, but their rear shields deflected it. Jefferies reached for the power command panel, then drew a deep breath and withdrew. Power levels were optimal. One laser bolt wouldn't destroy the shields.

He opened the latest scan data. Why hadn't the Spurs rained plasma death on the Pulsar? If their ship was a fighter--

It wasn't a fighter. It was an interceptor.

Jefferies's heart stuttered. If the Spurs boarded, who knew what atrocities they'd commit? And if they captured the Pulsar--

"Grapple!" shouted David.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Jefferies barked.

David steered the ship into a spiral. The grapple tracked them with gas bursts from its head and locked onto the rear bulkhead with a dull clang. To Jefferies it was a death peal.

David opened the ship's map on his screen and rotated it with both hands. The spiny Spur ship clung to the Pulsar like a burr. "They're going to board!"

Jefferies jumped out of his seat and unlocked a compartment in the wall behind them. He pulled out two sub-machine guns and tossed one to David. "Hold our course. Don't open this door until I give the all clear." Jefferies strapped on a kevlar vest and leg guards, heart pounding and limbs shaky with adrenaline. But his mind was clear. The Spurs were not allowed on board his ship. Period.

He strode out the door, intercom link in one hand. "Lock down all section doors. Leave a skeleton crew to operate crucial systems."

Every office passed out guns and armor from their caches. Faces were white and hands shook, but the men armed themselves and performed gear checks. Pride flickered in Jefferies's heart. They'd never seen Spur combat, but their military training kept them orderly.

Jefferies led a team of fifty toward the lowest boarding bay in the ship's rear. "Headshots only. Their armor causes bullets to ricochet. They prefer hand-to-hand combat, but we've seen them use energy weapons. Spread out and use cover. This is the

K.M. Carroll 34


only hallway connecting to that docking bay, and defending it protects the whole ship."

The hallway turned a hairpin bend before it descended into the boarding bay. Jefferies peered around the corner. A twenty-foot stairway ended in a sealed steel door. A black line arched across the door, and a cutting torch hissed on the far side. Jefferies swallowed a curse. Four inches of tempered steel, and the Spurs had penetrated it!

He led his troops down the stairs. A series of conduit pipes along the walls formedalcoves. Two men stepped into each alcove, one standing, the other kneeling.

Jefferies pressed himself against the wall beside the bay door. Shavings of red-hotmetal wafted to the floor around his boots, and smoke stung his eyes. He shoved in earplugs, gripped his sub machine gun with damp palms, and waited.

The torch cut down and around, forming a three-foot circle. Spurs chittered to each other like chimps in a zoo. As the Spurs completed their cutting, a hook-like claw slipped through the crack. Jefferies waited, stomach curled in a knot and jaw clenched, his gun a comforting weight in his hands.

The metal tore backward. A green Spur leaped into the hallway on all fours. Jefferies tracked its head and fired three short bursts. It shrieked and collapsed. Black blood splattered the wall.

More Spurs bounded inside and raced up the stairs, only to fall before the other soldiers' focused fire.

A Spur lunged at Jefferies and struck his chest armor. A claw hooked over his shoulder and foot-long spurs slashed at his legs, glancing off his leg guards. Jefferies twisted sideways and bashed its head into the wall. It screamed, its pointed teeth an inch from his face. A squeeze of the trigger and bullets tore through its throat. Its scream died in a gurgle. Jefferies kicked it to the floor in mingled horror and disgust.

The battle raged on. More Spurs flooded inside and slipped past their battling brethren, heading for the upper levels.

Jefferies had to end this invasion before the Spurs broke through their defenses and gained the ship's interior. He killed a Spur, kicked aside its corpse and peered into thelanding bay.

The alien ship sat in the Pulsar's landing bay like a giant sea urchin. A long black ramp stretched from its side to the Pulsar's floor. Eight Spurs descended the ramp, carrying a metal box between them.

A bomb.

K.M. Carroll 35


Jefferies's insides clenched. He sprayed the aliens with suppressing fire, aiming for their legs. Three Spurs fell. The rest dropped the metal box and dove behind it. Some of Jefferies's bullets punched through the box, and black smoke poured out.

The alien ship sounded a braying klaxon that vibrated in Jefferies's chest. The Spurs abandoned the bomb and scampered for their ship.

Something crashed into Jefferies and knocked him against the wall. He whipped out his knife and turned, then gaped. Spurs fled out of the Pulsar on all fours, ignoring thehumans. They vanished into their ship.

The spiny ship lifted off the floor with a repulsion burst. Jefferies staggered backward and caught himself on a conduit. The alien ship shot out of the airlock shielding, trailing a blast of atmosphere and black bomb smoke. As the airlock shield stabilized, the smoke crawled toward the air vents.

Jefferies faced his panting men. "Patch this door. We can't vent the landing bay's atmosphere until we're airtight. Shut down the circulation and get the emergency filters going. I don't want that smoke polluting our atmosphere."

As the smoke filled the room, dread sank through Jefferies's gut. It wasn't smoke. But he dared not voice his knowledge or he'd cause a panic.

He jogged back upstairs, pausing often to praise his crew and examine fallen Spurs. "Eject all alien bodies from the airlock. Command already knows how their insides work."

There had been no fatalities, but several men bore bleeding slashes from the aliens' claws. He dispatched them to Medical.

Jefferies was halfway to the top deck when a muffled boom shook the ship. He doubled back. "What was that?"

"The object detonated, sir!" someone called. "The smoke's so thick we can't see down there."

"Is the door sealed?"

"Not yet, sir! Five more minutes!"

Exactly what he'd feared. Jefferies reached the top deck and smelled smoke. He pulled his shirt collar over his nose and mouth. The technicians raced ahead of him to their workstations and closed the air vents.

"Get those filters working!" Jefferies said. "The Spurs aren't known for their kind

K.M. Carroll 36


gift-giving."

The filter fans hummed to life. Jefferies paced the main hallway as everyone returned to their posts. A couple of engineers welded a metal plate over the hole in the docking bay door. A lot of smoke had entered the ship, but the filters cleared it away. Only a faint odor remained, like burned silicon.

He paced the hallway for a long time, grasping his gun. A hard knot clenched in his chest. The Spurs possessed germ-warfare. He'd seen the classified reports. Pathogens. Flesh-eating fungus. What if it was already growing in his lungs?

As the last soldier departed the medical ward with bandages, Jefferies stepped inside, himself. It contained rows of empty beds and a little lab with stainless steel counters. A faint smell of rubber gloves blotted out the smoke's stench.

The ship's medic, Jack Samson, met him at the door and snapped to a salute. "Captain."

"Doctor. At ease." Jefferies slid the ward's door shut. "Let me know if you see anystrange outbreaks. Coughs. Sore throats. Anything."

Dr. Samson nodded. "I had the same thought about the Spur smoke, sir. I'll keep itquiet."

"Good." Jefferies opened the door and stepped out. "I hope I don't have reason to consult you again until the end of the voyage."

###

Four days passed. No one showed any ill effects from the smoke. Jefferies pushedit to the back of his mind. Best to bring the Pulsar home quickly as possible.

Their hasty jump from Kruger 60 had sent them to a nearby star, but it had drained the power cells to zero. Extra charging lengthened their travel time, and everyoneon the ship was already weary of space travel.

Jefferies and David leaned over the map screen, debating the speed possibilities oftwo different routes, when someone knocked at the security door. Jefferies glanced at the camera feed. Dr. Samson. His heart sank.

Jefferies pressed the door's button with a shaky hand, then rose and faced the

K.M. Carroll 37


medic. His racing heart made breathing difficult. Of all things, he'd hoped this visit wouldnever come.

Dr. Samson saluted. "I have a report, sir."

Jefferies closed the door and met David's startled gaze. "Do not repeat a word of what you're about to hear."

"Yes sir."

Jefferies braced himself. "Doctor, report."

Dr. Samson consulted a clipboard. "This morning two men checked in and asked for throat lozenges. They complained of a mild sore throat. I dispensed the lozenges. Three hours later, the men returned. Their mouths are filled with sores, and they complained of chilling. I assigned them beds and placed them under quarantine."

Jefferies rubbed his forehead. They were a week from Earth, and now an alien plague infected the ship. "Is this a known condition?"

Dr. Samson frowned at his clipboard. "It's similar to strep throat. Perhaps that's allit is."

"Thank you, Doctor. Keep me informed. I want hourly updates."

"Yes sir."

Jefferies dismissed the medic, then flopped in his chair and rested his head in his hands.

"It was the smoke, wasn't it, Captain?" David said.

Jefferies nodded.

"We've all been exposed."

Jefferies straightened and gazed at their course map. "This may only be an isolated incident. Colds go through the ship sometimes. But if any more cases crop up, I'llhave to report in and flag us as plague carriers."

Saying the words was giving voice to a nightmare. Confined to high orbit, so close to home and yet so far, watching the continents light up at night as people went about their lives down below. While inside the ship, people struggled and died, never to see their homes and families again. Quiet anguish throbbed inside him like a raw wound.

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They picked the quickest route home, which involved two long jumps and twelve hours in orbit around Proxima Centauri.

During the downtime, Jefferies paid the sick men a visit. One was a technician from Computations and other worked in Recycling. This worried him, because they didn'twork in the sort of proximity to share germs. Plastic sheets surrounded their beds to create a clean room. Both men lay bundled in spare blankets, shivering. Red sores had crept across their faces, and red dots speckled the eyes of one man.

"It looks like chicken pox," Jefferies said in a low voice.

Dr. Samson nodded. "The sores are different from pox. They're like blisters that fester and open in the skin, causing extreme pain. Both men complain of cold. Their core temperatures have dropped a degree."

"So it's not strep throat."

"No."

"What about antibiotics?"

"I have both of them on Vancomycin. As you can see, it has no effect."

Jefferies swallowed and hoped he imagined the sudden dryness in his own throat. "Notify me if their condition changes."

"Yes sir."

He returned to the cockpit and stared at his instruments. So much power at his fingertips, and all of it useless. How could anyone fight an outbreak of alien sickness? He'd rather deal with an attacking phalanx of Spur fighters than this slow, inexorable death.

David entered with two mugs of synthetic coffee. He handed one to Jefferies, whoaccepted it mechanically. "They're worse, aren't they?"

"Yes. We'll see if they recover. The change should come soon."

David nodded. "The top brass will be thrilled, I can tell you that."

Jefferies winced.

###

K.M. Carroll 39


As they jumped from the Centauri system, both sick men died. By the time the Pulsar reached high orbit around Earth, two more people had fallen ill.

Jefferies reported the situation to Command. He knew the answer before it came: "Remain in high orbit. The Pulsar is now under complete quarantine. We will send you supplies periodically via unmanned probe."

He drew a deep breath and lifted his intercom link. There was nothing more odious than telling hard-working, tired people why they couldn't go home. He thumbed the mic's button. "Captain Jefferies speaking. As you may be aware, there is a sickness aboard our ship, no doubt a gift from our friends the Spurs. Command has placed the Pulsar under quarantine until further notice. I will take further questions in the galley."

Most of the crew packed into the galley to ask questions.

"What about extra food?"

"Can we call our families?"

"What if we all die up here?"

"Are there any treatments?"

Jefferies answered as many questions as he could, given that none of them knew athing about this illness.

Fortunately, their proximity to Earth made calling home simple. Jefferies set up a number system to allow people to use the lightwave transmitter in the control room.

As Captain, Jefferies could not leave the control room unattended while an unauthorized crew member was present. For hours he listened to tearful conversations with wives and children. The sick feeling in his stomach worsened until the beginnings ofan ulcer twinged under his ribcage. At last he passed radio observation duty to David and locked himself in his quarters.

Jefferies lay on his bunk and closed his eyes. If only he could sleep and forget thisawful situation. But sleep eluded him. Instead he thought of Becky, her wavy blond hair and her busy fingers, always knitting gifts or elaborate lacy things she sold for high prices.

The knitting kit had come with a video, hadn't it? It might take his mind off the situation. Jefferies sat up, rummaged through his bags until he found the pudgy knitting bundle, and pulled out the tutorial disk. He slid it into his player and reclined on his bunk

K.M. Carroll 40


to watch it.

A grandmotherly woman appeared onscreen with a warm smile. Jefferies half-expected her to offer him freshly baked cookies. She explained how to hold the knitting needles, how to attach the yarn, and how to cast on the first stitches.

Her voice lulled him to sleep. Jefferies awoke after the video ended, and sat up, yawning. He imagined telling Becky that he simply couldn't stay awake through the whole video, and chuckled to himself.

If the plague didn't claim him first.

###

Life settled into a tense monotony on the Pulsar. Everyone waited for the dreaded symptoms to strike, and kept in touch with their families. Unable to handle the emotional stress, Jefferies allowed the technicians to reroute the lightwave transmitter to the Computations lab.

After a week in quarantine, Command sent them a supply probe. David snagged the bullet-shaped probe with a capture magnet outside the docking bay. They hauled it inside and opened it.

For a while the mood lightened into a Christmas atmosphere. Jefferies watched from a distance as the crew descended on the boxes and tore into them like excited children. Laughing and shouting, they passed out chocolate, dehydrated rations (non-synthetic!) and real coffee beans. One group of cadets discovered a set of board games, and made loud plans to break into them after their shift ended.

Jefferies looked at the discs in his hand. NASA had sent along three orbital missions, too. Relief eased the knot in his chest. There was nothing worse than sitting idle, waiting to die.

For the next three weeks, Jefferies oversaw the new projects, and fell asleep at night to the knitting teacher's kind voice.

The plague continued. The last two people to contract it died, and there were no new cases for eight days. As everyone on the Pulsar began to hope that the worst was over, one of the hydroponics techs fell sick.

"I don't understand this virus," Dr. Samson said to Jefferies as they gazed at the

K.M. Carroll 41


latest patient in the medical ward. "The incubation period varies between individuals. I can't see any pattern in the targeted people. Everyone on board is healthy, as far as I know."

"They were healthy," Jefferies said, brows furrowed. The cadet shivered violently under the blankets, rattling the quarantine sheet. "Maybe it depends on how much smoke they inhaled?"

Dr. Samson rubbed his chin. "A definite possibility. But that includes us all."

Jefferies paced back to the control room, eavesdropping on each department. Eachroom he passed was busy, but people spoke in subdued murmurs. It'd be a miracle if any of them left the Pulsar alive.

That night, he pulled out the knitting needles and yarn. He had to try to knit something for Becky before he contracted the plague.

Sitting in front of the video, Jefferies tangled the needles in yarn, or dropped them. He ran the video back and watched the close-ups of the instructor's hands as she demonstrated how to cast on stitches.

Jefferies finally managed to work the tricky cat's cradle pattern between his fingers and the needles. Triumphant, he cast on fifty-seven stitches. He tried to add another row, but the stitches were packed too tightly on the needle.

Jefferies unraveled his stitches and cast on twenty.

It kept him awake until midnight, but Jefferies conquered his first row. He laid theneedles aside and went to bed. Loops of blue yarn danced behind his eyelids as he fell asleep.

###

The next morning, Jefferies hurried to the medical ward to check on the latest patient. Dr. Samson sat in a chair at a table, filling out paperwork. He glanced up as Jefferies entered, then stood and saluted.

Jefferies acknowledged with a nod. "How is he?"

Dr. Samson's shoulders slumped. "The same, sir. Nothing touches this plague. He'd like to speak to you, actually."

K.M. Carroll 42


Jefferies ducked under the quarantine sheet. The young man had been on the frontline during their Spur battle. Bennett, Jefferies remembered. The sores peppered his jaws and sprinkled his eyebrows, but his eyes were clear. He raised a hand in a feeble salute.

"At ease," Jefferies said. "You wanted to see me, Bennett?"

Bennett nodded. "I've had it, sir. I'll be dead in another day."

Jefferies cleared his throat and looked away.

"Sir, how are you disposing of the bodies?"

The Pulsar's tiny morgue had ten refrigeration boxes. It was already half full. Jefferies rubbed the back of his neck. "I hadn't given much thought to it, Bennett. I imagine we'll have to jettison bodies."

"That's what I was afraid of." Bennett's shiver rocked the bed. "I'm so cold, I can't face the thought of my body floating out in space forever."

Jefferies forced a smile."You won't know about it."

"I know, I know. But you think about these things while you're dying. Is there any chance I could have an Earth burial?"

Jefferies bowed his head. He wanted to be buried on Earth, preferably in his hometown in North Carolina. But a plague carrier couldn't return to Earth. Fortunately there was a compromise. "There's always the lunar graveyard. It's cold, but it's not deep space."

Bennett nodded. "I hadn't thought of the moon. Could you arrange that for me? My family'd take it better."

"Right." Jefferies wanted to pat Bennett on the shoulder, but he couldn't bring himself to touch someone with the plague. "Get some rest, Bennett. Maybe you'll be our first survivor."

Jefferies ducked under the quarantine sheet. Sometimes being captain meant he had to lie through his teeth, but he didn't have to like it. He walked to Dr. Samson, who was filling out Natural Death forms. "I assume you heard all that."

Dr. Samson nodded. "I think the lunar graveyard is an excellent suggestion. Part of it was created with our situation in mind. The bodies can be buried and their families could theoretically visit them. Or at least see their resting place from Earth."

Jefferies nodded. "I'll acquire the necessary clearance. Keep me updated."

K.M. Carroll 43


He strode out the door and back along the Pulsar's main corridor with an asteroid in his throat. Another good man down and no cure in sight. He wanted to curse and beat the walls with his fists, or personally drop nukes on the Spurs' home world. Or bury his face in Becky's neck and cry.

He contacted Command and requested space in the moon graveyard. Command put him on hold for five hours before granting clearance. Jefferies didn't have the heart to announce it over the intercom, so he printed a small notice and had David post it on the galley's bulletin board.

Jefferies knitted five more rows on his scarf that night. He'd made a square of neatblue stitches the width of his hand. There was a long way to go before it looked like a scarf, but at least he'd started.

He checked on Bennett the next morning. Bennett's face was covered in sores, andhis eyes had swelled shut. He trembled constantly, making the bed springs squeak. Jefferies felt desperately sorry for him. No wonder he couldn't face the cold of outer space. The cold had drained the life from his body.

Bennett died before noon.

Jefferies and David fired the Pulsar's thrusters to set them in alignment with the moon on their next orbital pass. Jefferies spoke to the technicians about jettisoning the bodies so that they'd land on the moon and could be retrieved for burial. He personally oversaw the work of wrapping the bodies in bags, lashing them together, and attaching reflectors so a scanner could locate them.

He returned his room and retrieved his piece of scarf, pulled it off the needles and cut the string. It wasn't much, but Jefferies wanted to make a personal gesture of thanks toat least one crew member. He unzipped Bennett's body bag and laid the square on his chest.

A crowd had gathered outside the door, watching in silence. They'd seen his knitting, and embarrassment crawled through his insides. He straightened and gathered his dignity. "We must all do what we can to honor our fallen comrades. These five men were slain by Spurs. They deserve our respect."

Everyone nodded. Jefferies stepped aside and let the ship's chaplain step forward and read the funeral service.

Then Jefferies and Dr. Samson wheeled the bodies into the airlock, dropped them inside, and closed it. A moment later the outer doors opened with a whoosh and the bodies shot out into space. They'd land on the moon within a day.

K.M. Carroll 44


Jefferies started work on another scarf that night. He cast on ten stitches and began work on a narrow scarf. He'd give some sort of scarf to everyone who died of plague, until the plague ended or he died, himself.

###

Another five days crawled by--then the plague erupted again. This time it was Kenneth, the galley chef who made the captain's lunch every day. Kenneth lay buried under the same blankets Bennett had occupied, shivering. "Well sir, looks like I'll be making a trip to the moon, too."

Jefferies forced a smile. "You're still alive for now, Kenneth. Don't lose hope."

Kenneth rolled his eyes, showing red spots in the whites. "Don't kid me, Captain. There's no surviving this. But, if I could ask a favor--"

Jefferies nodded.

"Could I have a scarf, too?"

"Of course."

Knitting at night wasn't producing scarves fast enough, so Jefferies carried his knitting to the control room. David looked at the bundle of yarn sideways, but said nothing.

"Well?" Jefferies grew tired of feeling embarrassed.

To his surprise, David said, "That's a fine thing you're doing, sir."

"It is?"

"You should play fly on the wall and listen to the crew. They couldn't believe you took the time to make something for Bennett. They're singing your praises."

Jefferies didn't know what to say. He gazed down at the yarn in his lap, lifted his needles and worked another stitch.

When Kenneth died the following day, he received a narrow scarf long enough to wrap around his neck before Samson zipped the body bag shut.

K.M. Carroll 45


###

Time passed. Jefferies lost count of how many times they had circled the Earth, shining in its blue grandeur below them. The plague ate away at his crew week by week. He knitted scarf after scarf and carried his yarn and needles everywhere.

Each week he gave a scarf to the latest victim as a funeral gift. Sometimes he finished a scarf before the victim died, and the victim gladly accepted it. It didn't warm the plague's chill, but it conveyed the illusion of warmth.

His crew of two hundred dwindled to one hundred, then eighty. The hallways and offices emptied. The ship became quieter with only eighty voices murmuring over their work.

Two more unmanned probes arrived, bearing food, supplies and more scientific projects. Jefferies oversaw their retrieval and unpacking. The men passed around fresh fruit and bread in flat sealed packets, but no one could muster much cheer.

David peeled a banana. "Look at all this swag! At least the boys on the ground haven't forgotten about us, huh?"

"Not yet," said Jefferies. A dark vision stretched before him--the Pulsar in continuous orbit, her entire crew dead, home to a deadly plague that kept NASA at bay. Until they sent a tug to drag the ship into the sun...

One morning Jefferies entered the control room and found David absent. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He flicked on the intercom and paged Dr. Samson. "Is there a new outbreak?"

"Yes, sir. The co-captain."

Jefferies hurried to the medical ward and pushed through the quarantine sheets.

David looked up at him from the blankets and forced a smile. Sores had opened across his face and lined his mouth. "I guess we knew this day was coming, didn't we?"

Jefferies couldn't speak. He bit his lower lip and stared down at his friend.

David went on, "You know Willis? He's a fully trained pilot. You could promote him to co-captain when I go."

K.M. Carroll 46


Jefferies nodded and dragged a hand down his face. "I'll consider him. David, I'd hoped this wouldn't happen."

"But it did, sir. Nothing we can do about it."

Jefferies departed. He returned a few hours later with a scarf, which he gently wrapped around David's neck. "To keep the chills off."

"I feel warmer already." David's shivering continued.

Jefferies returned to the cockpit and sat alone, empty needles resting in his lap. Hegazed out at Earth as anguish tore him apart. He'd hoped David would survive this thing. But it looked as if none of them would ever set foot on the blue planet again.

It was a long time before he could pick up his needles. Slowly he cast on another set of stitches, and began another scarf.

Jefferies couldn't officiate at David's funeral. He remained in the back of the crowd, where fewer people could see the tears running down his face.

###

When the plague had cut them down to forty-three people, it stopped.

Weeks passed. No more outbreaks occurred. Jefferies's spirits rose. The Pulsar was down to a skeleton crew, and he'd taken over medical duties himself after the plague claimed Dr. Samson. But it seemed like the plague had ended.

Command expressed uneasiness about this.

"You can't keep us up here forever!" Jefferies argued. "These men have been on this ship for eleven months. They've survived the plague. Maybe they're naturally resistant, I don't know. But you've got to let them go home."

Command hemmed and hawed, and finally came up with a plan. Jefferies loaded up one of the unmanned probes with tissue samples from both plague victims and survivors. He passed the probe off to another ship, which took the samples to Earth.

More weeks passed as scientists analyzed the plague. Finally one morning, Jefferies entered the control room to find instructions waiting on his screen.

K.M. Carroll 47


He was to proceed to the International Space Station in high orbit above Earth. Two people at a time would be released from quarantine, tested, and conveyed to Earth. The plague survivors were genetically resistant and therefore extremely valuable for researching a cure.

Jefferies announced this to his remaining crew. That night they threw a party and broke into the remaining rations. Jefferies sat in a chair with his knitting and watched his crew laugh and enjoy themselves. He felt their joy, but his heart ached for those who had not survived. He poured himself a mug of weak coffee and drank a silent toast to the brave men who had gone to their deaths.

The Pulsar docked at the space station the following day. Jefferies was adept at knitting by now. He gave a small scarf to each of the men departing the Pulsar. They tookthem with grave thanks, as if receiving a medal.

Slowly the crew left the ship. Jefferies left it last of all.

He rode the Earth-bound shuttle with a rush of delight. Reentry was a welcome, roaring rollercoaster that he'd never thought he'd experience again, and he loved every second of it.

The shuttle landed at Edwards Air Force Base in California. Jefferies disembarkedand passed through debriefing. He had undergone orbital quarantine on the space station, but had to submit to antibacterial showers before they let him onto the base proper.

An Admiral from Command met him and led him through the base. "You did good, Captain. You kept the peace and survived our worst nightmare. Word's gotten around about your scarves, too. The men wear them as a badge of honor."

Jefferies only nodded.

The Admiral led him into the visitor's center. Becky rose from her chair, all golden curls and dancing brown eyes, and rushed into Jefferies's arms. He folded her in his arms and buried his face in her hair, as he'd longed to do for so many months. Tears poured down his face. Somehow he'd made it home, back into this warm embrace he'd missed so much. The pain of the Pulsar faded a little.

When their initial greeting had died down, Jefferies dug into his pocket. "I made this for you. It was all the yarn I had left."

He pulled out a tiny scarf, three stitches wide and barely a foot long.

Tears gleamed in Becky's eyes. She took it and wrapped it around his neck.

K.M. Carroll 48


Kessie Carroll would rather write than watch TV. She's a pre-published author honing her skills in the urban Arizona desert, while chasing her three kids. Most of her work is written to entertain her husband.

K.M. Carroll 49

the cross and the cosmos - issue 17

Documents

dark withinby charles

old charles

favorite aunt

hard time

dark family secret

aunt vern

charlies episodes

knitting honors