Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Torri sobbed again, the tears running down her face. She felt as though she had fallen into a dark chasm she would never be able to climb out of—a grief so deep no light could be seen from the bottom of its trench.
As she cried, she was vaguely aware of someone or something trying to get into her mind. It felt like cold, wormy fingers palming her brain like a puzzle cube, trying to find the right combination to get in and see her thoughts.
The sensation didn’t last for very long, though.
“I can sssee nothing while the girl isss hysterical,” the AllFather hissed in disgust. “Take her away, Xairn. Put her in the dungeons until ssshe is sssomewhat calmer. Then bring her back and hook her to the monitor. We mussst know if the Kindred somehow know our plansss or if the ssscout wandering near our latessst prey is sssimply a coincidence.”
“As you wish, Father.” The gray skinned man bowed stoically and bent to lift Torri’s limp form into his arms once more. “I will bring her back when she has calmed.”
And he carried her away, still sobbing.
Forty-Nine
Vic was in a bright place—a place full of warmth and light and the soft rustling sound of leaves. Delicious scents perfumed the air—essences of exotic fruit and flowers—and sunshine caressed his face. The soft, burbling sound of a stream running over rocks reached his ears, along with faint strains of gentle music.
Where am I? He looked around himself uncertainly. His surroundings looked a little like the Sacred Grove aboard the Mother Ship, which he hadn’t visited in years. But why was he here and how had he come here?
“Do not trouble yourself with such questions, warrior, murmured a soft but strong feminine voice. “Come to the fountain.”
The fountain in question suddenly appeared before him—a broad silver disk sitting on a white marble stone pillar. It was filled with cool, clear water that shimmered like gold in the sunlight. Vic walked towards it and felt the cool, ticklish sensation of grass under his feet. Looking down, he realized that he was barefoot. In fact, he was altogether naked for some reason.
“Do not worry about your state of undress, warrior,” the soft feminine voice said. “For after death, all must enter the holy presence of the Goddess as bare as the day they were born. Naked we come into the world and naked we must leave it.”
“After death?” Vic asked, as he walked forward. “I don’t understand—I’m not dead.”
“I fear that you are, warrior,” the voice said. “For you have passed through the gate from the previous world into the next. You are now in the Garden of the Goddess.”
Looking up, Vic saw that the voice belonged to a beautiful woman with strong yet delicate features and long, flowing hair. He couldn’t say what color her eyes or skin or hair were, though—they seemed to be all colors at once, flowing into one another. She was standing in front of the silver and marble fountain, dressed in long white robes, waiting for him.
“But…I can’t be here,” Vic protested. “I am not fully organic—I was grown in an artificial womb—not born. How can I enter the Garden of the Goddess when I am an artificial life form?”
“You were artificial—before your positronic net went off-line,” the beautiful woman told him. “But in the time when it was damaged, your organic side took over and you began to act and think and behave as a true warrior does. You cried out to me when the female you cared for was threatened—do you not remember?”
Vic remembered being trapped by the bolted door of his room back in St. Elizabeth’s—remembered hearing Torri’s frightened sobbing and knowing that he had to get to her. He recalled the frantic prayer he had sent up—the prayer which had been answered…
But all that only reminded him of the terrible situation he had left the curvy little Earth female in—alone aboard the Fathership with no one to guard her.
“If I am in the Garden of the Goddess, then I truly must be dead. But how can I protect Torri if I am dead?” he asked.
“Alas, warrior—you cannot protect her. She is beyond your reach,” the lovely woman said softly.
Vic fell to his knees before the woman.
“Goddess,” he said—for it must be the Goddess he was speaking to. “Goddess, please—I cannot leave her alone in such a terrible place! Send me back to protect her!”
The Goddess’s eyes softened and she reached out to touch Vic lightly on the brow.
“Truly, though you started your existence as barely more than a machine, you have grown into a true son of mine, warrior. The fact that you can love so deeply proves your right to be here, in my garden.”
“Your garden is a lovely place, but I don’t belong here—not yet,” Vic could hear the pleading in his own hoarse voice. “I can’t stay here—please, Goddess-send me back!”