Galaxy Warrior_Favian Page 4

  As I recall, Kodiak didn’t readily divulge his gifts. According to Kodiak and LC, many humans have otherworldly gifts. However, their gifts are often times infrequent and inconsistent. According to Kodiak, LC, and several others, being gifted isn’t uncommon. What’s uncommon, are those citizens that have gifts that are numerous and unfailing.”

  Commander Gharm interrupted, “Explain.”

  “These inhabitants, they refer to themselves as people, are often ostracized by peers. I’ve researched different types of various gifts. There is precognition, which is the ability to see the future. This occurs during a sleep cycle or while the person is awake, but apparently not both. Next are those that can speak or communicate in one form or another with the dead.

  I’ve investigated the subject but am unsure how many of these gifts are actually real or fictional, and just how many types of gifts there are. The MacKennas will be able to clarify the research. What I can tell you, from conversations with the Fleet Commander’s honored guests, are that these gifted humans are unique and most of them will publically deny their gift. Should you suspect a gifted human, don’t dismiss him or her simply because the human denies the ability.” Ivanoff finished his summation with the reasons why humans deny their abilities. Not surprisingly, none of the warriors volunteered to seek out a human who can communicate with the dead.

  When the spontaneous discussions lessened, Ivanoff departed his latest find. “I discovered a decade’s old, well documented, case of a woman who originally was credited of having a gift called telekinesis. It’s the ability to move objects with the power of one’s mind. This woman was extensively studied by professionals and was deemed, after several fatalities, to be under the possession of a demon.” Sensing the warriors’ confusion, he next compared an Earth demon to old Pzianian stories of devious, damned to eternal flames, entities.

  “I’ll forward the case file to your data pads,” Ivanoff finished off. He was praying to the gods and goddesses that Commander Gharm, after reading the file, would decide that no human with the gift of telekinesis would be allowed to come aboard.

  Commander Gharm finished the meeting with, “We must be extremely diligent when selecting our gifted honored guests. Every potential candidate must be run by me before you seek the individual out. We will first meet with the MacKenna clan on the west coast and then return to meet with Director Lee and Veronica Archer. A working relationship must be established with these humans.

  I have summoned Warrior Engineer Lucia here. She’ll temporarily share responsibility for navigation and operations. Ivanoff, input the first set of coordinates. We depart as soon as she arrives.” Dorn stood and disposed of his coffee. The rest followed suit and waited until their commander left the room, and then followed him out. Warrior Lucia often covers for the Co-Commander aboard the Guardian and is reputed an efficient warrior.

  Ivanoff was thrilled to have time to spend with his sons, still he felt a bit of grief being temporarily assigned to Commander Gharm. Prior to his time spent working closely with Slotan and his brothers on the transporter, Ivanoff wouldn’t have given Gharm’s draconian style of supervision a second thought. Such is the way of a Pzian warrior. When his temporary assignment ends, Ivanoff will return for a rest period on Pzianian and then resume his post under Commander Traven Scorpak on the Galaxy Hunter, for a period of five years at which time he will retire.

  Ivanoff has prayed nightly that the gods and goddesses will bless his sons on this mission with human life-mates. He had become fond of the human females the Scorpak brothers secured, and holds out hope that at least one of his sons will find the same happiness.

  Chapter 4

  Not surprisingly, Dr. Randall’s morning meeting turned into a late afternoon, last minute get together. The conference room was refreshingly free of any medical posters and flyers. The institute’s receptionist, Mrs. Cora Lloyd, collected money from each of the doctors and personally decorated the room to promote a calm atmosphere. In Stacy’s opinion, the room was a testament to her non-existent quixotic personal life. The walls were painted in a rich, romantic, Mojave Sunset color. The dreamy scenic oil paintings were done by local art students and each painting incorporated a few brush strokes of the Mojave Sunset wall color.

  Mrs. Lloyd had done such an outstanding job decorating that the employees gave her more money to redecorate the reception area. The entrance was now decorated in a fresh, airy, tropical motif. Stacy sometimes wished that Cora could decorate her own personal life as well as Cora has the two rooms in the research facility. Dr. Stacy Randall hadn’t felt the flames of romance for some time.

  “Dr. Randall, I gave this a lot of thought and believe we’re premature in considering Cory Hendrix for stem cell implementation. My reasons are two-fold. First, he has yet to complete his psychological profile. Second, I reviewed your notes last night and agree we need to seek out a bone specialist for a second opinion.” Dr. Carter laced his fingers together and rested his forearms on the conference room table. He waited patiently while Dr. Randall considered his remarks.

  Dr. Stacy Randall remained quiet for several long seconds, although she did her normal far off look with the corresponding pursing of her lips. Her coworkers knew this personal character trait was in no way negative but rather contemplative. The three other doctors in attendance waited for the sucking sound and smack of her lips that is a prelude to her speaking. Should she reach up and scratch the base of her neck then Dr. Carter’s comments were well received.

  Stacy shifted her eyes, flipped through several pages of Cory’s file, and rescanned the report from the psychologist. Cory was nearly finished with his recommended treatment and according to the psychologist had been belligerent throughout most of it. Dr. Randall lifted her left hand and scratched the base of her neck.

  “Dr. Carter, you’re correct that Cory has not completed his recommended schedule with the psychologist, however, given his age, I don’t find that surprising. He’s angry. Do you or anyone here, know of an exceptionally talented vertebrae specialist? One that’s willing to consult as a professional courtesy, as the family has limited funds. Also, can this be done within the next couple of days? I have a meeting with his parents this Friday.”

  Her coworkers all agreed to start placing calls and let her know as soon as possible. Dr. Rigel suggested that if they didn’t locate one before her meeting with Cory’s parents that she informs them that they’re searching for the best consultant.

  They also all agreed to contribute the money to pay for the consultation if the specialist won’t do this as a professional courtesy, but that Stacy would have to seek out sponsors to help cover the substantial costs of the operation that the insurance company won’t pay. None of the doctors wanted to see Mr. and Mrs. Hendrix have to sale their home and belongings, and cash out what little they’ve gathered in their retirement accounts, even though they knew they would for their son. And given the current real estate market, plus what the Hendrixs’ has accumulated according to their financial statement, it still may not be enough.

  Stacy gathered the files to review after the meeting. She trusted her coworkers to deliver the best solutions currently available. “I’ll meet with the parents this Friday and inform them that Cory must complete the treatment with his psychologist in order to be considered for treatment. That will buy us time to locate a specialist and for me to locate benefactors.”

  She softly blew out a breath and continued. “Thank you. I’ll start making phone calls. Also, before you go, I must apologize for calling this meeting prematurely. I have to admit that his age and circumstance has gotten to me.”

  Her coworkers were compassionate, and emphasized that no one here works in isolation, or wants to, especially when it comes to children. Stacy was very grateful for their understanding.

  *.*

  Shortly after leaving the conference room, the newly divorced Dr. Carter stopped her. “Stacy?”

  Stacy pivoted and faced Bill. “Bill?” She gave him a
kind smile. “You brought up good points and I’m ashamed to admit that his tragic story got to me before I had a chance to thoroughly think through all aspects,” she stopped when he interrupted her forthcoming apology.

  Bill repositioned himself so he was now standing in her direct route to her office, in such a way that she would have to brush against him to pass. “Don’t worry. We’ve all been there. Would you like to go to the Vikings game with me Sunday?” When she didn’t answer immediately, he pushed on. “There’s a group of us going and we’ll be there a couple of hours before the game for a tailgate party. Charlie’s going to barbeque his famous whiskey dogs. That’s something you simply can’t miss.”

  He saw that she was considering his offer and decided to push a little more. “Don’t worry. This isn’t an offer for a date. If it were, I’d be wining and dining you at an expensive restaurant, like you deserve. All this is, is some good old-fashioned fun.” That was far from the truth. To Bill Carter, this would be the first step to gaining Stacy’s friendship as more than a coworker. Dr. Carter had been attracted to Stacy from the first day she came to work at the research lab but never made a move. He was fearful she would have rejected him because he was married, but that is no longer the case. Stacy strikes him as the type that needs to be approached slowly and methodically. Bill has spent many a night mapping out a plan to gain her personal attention. The first step was giving his wife the divorce she wanted, although he will never admit as much.

  “Sure. It sounds like fun,” she guardedly replied. Stacy admired Bill as a coworker and considered him an exceptional physician and researcher. She was aware of the fact that the divorce on his short-lived marriage was recently finalized, and thought that maybe he was in need of some company. He had mentioned once that his wife was awarded their friends in the divorce.

  Stacy hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but inadvertently heard coworkers talking one day about how Bill’s wife wanted him to buy her the largest house in the area and that she informed him she didn’t want children. Before they married, she had led Bill to believe she loved the area where he lived, and wanted kids as much as he did. Within three months after the nuptial, she introduced him to the real estate agent she hired to sale his house; even though her name was not listed on the deed.

  Stacy knew Bill was joking about her getting the friends in the divorce, but realized it was his way of expressing his loneliness. She could relate. Not to the divorce, or the embarrassment he wrongly feels, but she could understand the loneliness part.

  She, herself, doesn’t have but a couple of long distance friends, outside of her coworkers. Do coworkers really count as friends when they only go out for a rare drink after work? They are wonderful people but have their own lives and other long-standing friendships. Stacy often feels her name should be Dr. Afterthought, since that’s how she often feels when people belatedly invite her to events about to happen, like when Dr. Michael Everen invited her to his home to have Easter dinner with his family, an hour before it was to be served.

  Dr. Stacy Randall decided it was time her introvert persona came out to play. A couple old clichés popped into her head and she thought them wise. I’m a creature of habit. I need to step out of my comfort zone. She wants to be part of the community. “Today will be a new beginning, and I’m not backing out,” she verbally pledged. She threw the local phonebook and latest local paper in her briefcase, and decided to spend some time tonight looking for groups, clubs, or organizations to join. Preferably, close to home.

  *.*

  Stacy parked her car in her garage, walked into her kitchen and turned on the coffee pot. No work for her tonight, other than finding a club or organization to join. As soon as she had her cup of coffee, she opened up the local paper and started scanning every page from top to bottom, then side-to-side. She didn’t want to miss even the smallest ad, even one that might be looking for someone to help foster abandoned kittens. What she’d do with them, or how she’d have time for them, she didn’t know. But, it was a start. If that was what she needed to do to make a friend outside of work, she would. She could secretly hire someone to bottle feed the little fur balls for her while she worked. Fortunately, or unfortunately, there were no abandoned kittens needing to be nurse fed.

  She turned the page and began scanning again. It was on the inside of the back page she saw an advertisement, requesting volunteers to help organize and operate booths at the Fall Festival, the weekend after next. She missed it last year, and it was held in a park only a few long blocks from her house. Stacy wasn’t going to miss it this year. She picked up the phone and dialed the number.

  “Hello. My name is,” she paused, “Stacy Randall and I’m relatively new to the neighborhood. I saw the advertisement for needing volunteers,” the man on the other end cut her off. She usually didn’t introduce herself as a doctor since she worked for a research institute.

  “I’m sorry, my wife isn’t here right now, and she’s coordinating this. In fact, Linda’s at the fire station going over specifics with them if you have time. I know she’s desperate for volunteers.” Frank Stratton didn’t realize to whom he was speaking.

  Stacy hesitated, but only for a moment. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing? Just stopping by like that, unannounced?”

  “No. Doors are always open around here. Don’t worry. Now, go on, she’ll be there for only another hour. Welcome to the neighborhood, Stacy.” He hung up, and briefly wondered who the new neighbor was. He finally decided that Stacy and her husband must have bought the old Oliver place a few blocks over. The only other new neighbor was the doctor, and then she wasn’t that new anymore.

  Feeling horrible for not taking the initiative to meet her neighbors, Stacy ran upstairs and changed into a pair of jeans, a form fitting t-shirt, which was typical for her, and tossed on her tennis shoes. On her way down the stairs, she pulled her hair free from the bun she had it in just minutes ago.

  Stacy pulled up to the fire station curb and turned off the engine. She was excited. This weekend a football game, and the next weekend, the festival! Dr. Randall was happy. She entered the building with a smile on her face that brought all conversation to an immediate halt. Stacy suddenly felt as if she should be quietly backing out.

  *.*

  Mrs. Linda Stratton immediately recognized Dr. Stacy Randall and stood to greet her, while the firemen were busy picking their tongues up off the floor.

  “Dr. Randall!” she exclaimed. “Why, is everything all right? Do you have some type of emergency?” She walked forward, keeping direct eye contact with the one woman who could probably destroy any marriage she wanted simply by wiggling her finger. Linda had never been this close to Dr. Randall before and immediately realized that her hair color is natural and her eyes are mesmerizing. Could things be any worse? Linda briefly wondered how much money she could gather from the other wives in the neighborhood to relocate the pretty doctor across town. Could she collect enough money that Stacy would want to sell her house and move? Her thoughts were disrupted by Dr. Randall’s answers.

  Stacy suddenly wondered if this was such a good idea. She had never been this bold before. She clasped her hands together in front and replied, “Your husband let on that I’d find you here when I called.” She saw the look of confusion on Linda’s face and continued, “I’d like to volunteer to help out at the Fall Festival, and please just call me Stacy.”

  “But, but, I thought,” Linda was cut off.

  Of the five firemen present, two were single, and pushed their way to the front. That’s not to say the married ones didn’t try to move in closer also.

  “Stacy, I’m Derek, and single,” he winked. He liked how Stacy giggled.

  Stacy took the very buff fireman’s offered hand. “It’s very nice to meet you Derek.”

  “And?” he prompted. Derek placed his hand over his heart and exclaimed, “Please don’t tell me the rumors are true. Are you married?”

  “Oh, um, no. I’m also single. Not married,” she
admitted with a confused and somewhat shocked look on her face.

  “No boyfriends or ex-husbands stalking you that I need to take care of?” He was fishing.

  Stacy noticed he still held her hand and was blocking the others from introducing themselves. “No ex-husbands, and I don’t have any stalkers. My last boyfriend was,” she hated to admit this but did, “more than two years ago. My work takes up most of my time.”

  Derek looked at the blushing doctor and wondered why he, and all of the other men in the area, was fed incorrect information.

  Mrs. Stratton tugged on Derek’s arm. “Derek,” she admonished as she held up her hand, “you’re crowding the nice doctor.” Linda then squeezed between the two of them forcing their hands to break apart, and him back a few steps.

  “Stacy,” she began. “How nice that you’d want to volunteer, but the ad you saw is old and we already have all the volunteers we need.”

  Derek didn’t know what Linda was playing at and didn’t like it one bit. “Actually Stacy,” he grinned. “We could use extra help at our booth. Would you mind?”

  Stacy was befuddled. She wasn’t certain but she felt like she was picking up a hint of hostility from this woman she’d never met before, and couldn’t understand why. She then peeked at Derek and then the firemen behind him, at least what she could see of them. “What kind of help do you need?”

  One of the others spoke up, “Handing out brochures.”

  Another sputtered, “Help us demonstrate life saving techniques.” He tried really hard to hide his smile.

  Then another shouted, “Are you afraid of heights?”

  “No,” Stacy stated and shook her head to reinforce her answer.

  “Good, then I can demonstrate how we carry a victim down our ladder!” Logan pushed his way to the forefront.

  Stacy looked at him, open mouthed, and wasn’t quite sure what to say. She finally squeaked out, “I’ll make sure I put my hair in a ponytail.” She cocked her head to the side and challenged his strength. “Promise you won’t drop me? I weigh more than I look.”