Port Angeles, Clallam County
State of Washington, U.S.A.
‘’Bunch of misguided idiots!’ grumbled Ingrid, seriously irritated, while watching a television talk show on a regional channel. The talk show this evening was centered on the subject of the anti-drug cartels border war, which was now progressively dying down.
The two guests of the talk show, who described themselves as ‘progressive liberals’, were basically criticizing the heavy-handed measures used by the Bush Administration to counter the Los Zetas and its affiliated American street gangs and lamenting the
‘egregious violations of human rights and constitutional rights’ resulting from those measures. For Ingrid, their arguments where simply pure hypocrisy tainted with crass political opportunism. Taking a decision, Ingrid grabbed the telephone on her nearby low coffee table and composed the number shown in the lower part of the television screen, which was to be used by viewers who would want to give their opinion on the subject of the evening discussion. A receptionist at the television station answered her quickly enough.
‘’KNBC Seattle! May I help you?’
‘’You may, miss. Please connect me to the studio desk of your presenter who is presently on air and discussing the subject of our anti-drug cartels campaign. I am ex-General of the Army Ingrid Dows, calling from Port Angeles, and I have a few choice words for his two guests.’
The receptionist was obviously impressed by both her identity and by her polite but firm tone she had used.
‘’Uh, one moment, please. I am connecting you right now, General.’
In the talk show studio’s stage, the presenter suddenly heard a message from his producer via his ear microphone.
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‘’Gregg, you better take this call: none other than ex-General of the Army Ingrid Dows is calling from Port Angeles in order to give you her opinion on the subject of your show. I am now switching her with your desk. I will get a background picture of her up as quickly as I can.’
The TV presenter straightened at once in his chair, something noticed by his two guests, before smiling to the cameras facing him and speaking in their direction.
‘’Dear viewers, we now have a call about our evening discussion from none other than the famous retired General of the Army Ingrid Dows. General Dows, you are now online.’
‘’Thank you!’ said Ingrid, her voice resonating from unseen speakers inside the studio, as a giant picture of her appeared on the background screen of the studio. ‘’I have been listening to your show tonight since it started and I just couldn’t let pass the pile of steaming manure dumped by your two guests without calling in order to adjust the clocks back to reality.’
The two studio guests, one a female rights activist from the ACLU24 and the other a Democratic representative from the Washington State legislature, stiffened, obviously outraged by her choice of words, as the presenter replied to Ingrid.
‘’And could you explain to our viewers what are your objections to what Misses Brown and Representative Reeding said tonight, General?’
‘’With pleasure, Gregg. First off, I would like to remind your two guests that we were at war against a foreign criminal organization which had committed acts of terrorism on American soil, acts which cost the lives of over 258 innocent American citizens and wounded over 340 other innocent persons. Furthermore, a total of at least 36 of our law enforcement officers were killed and another 72 wounded while they were taking down the street gangs affiliated to the Los Zetas and who were distributing and selling drugs on our streets, drugs which have been causing untold misery, pain and deaths among our population. Yet, Misses Brown and Representative Reeding have up to now only complained about how supposedly illegal and unconstitutional the measures taken by the Bush Administration were while defending us from those terrorist attacks and from the gangs selling drugs on our streets. May I remind them that the nearly 600
persons killed by Los Zetas bombs and the 36 law officers killed by street gangs also 24 ACLU: American Civil Liberties Union. Private association dedicated to the defense and promotion of individual and group rights in the United States.
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had rights, including the right to life. Yet, they haven’t mentioned all those lost innocent lives once since the start of your show, leaving you alone in stating those facts.’
‘’Now, wait one second, General Dows!’ protested the ACLU activist. ‘’While our government does have the task of defending our country and our citizens, that doesn’t mean that it can grossly disregard basic human rights and violate the constitutional rights of our citizens by conducting brutal night raids and shipping numerous American citizens to Guantanamo Bay Prison, where they are denied access to our judicial system.’
‘’Misses Brown, by affiliating themselves with the Los Zetas, those gang members we arrested and sent to Guantanamo Bay made themselves accomplices to a foreign terrorist organization. I have only one name for such American citizens: traitors!
As for our military raids inside Mexico, they were legitimate acts of war made against a group to which the government of the United States has officially declared to be at war against.’
‘’And what tells us that those bombings and raids in Mexico didn’t kill innocent Mexicans, General?’ fired back in an incensed tone the state representative.
‘’I will tell you why I can say that those air bombings and commando raids inside Mexico only hit legitimate targets, meaning drug cartel members and their installations: I personally dropped the first bombs to fall on Mexico, bombs with GPS guidance systems set to the precise coordinates of known Los Zetas installations, drug labs and safehouses. I also made and coordinated the rest of our target list in Mexico. I care about the lives and safety of our citizens, but not about those of our enemies. They committed acts of war against the United States and they paid the price for it. Get your priorities right, Representative Reeding!’
In a sports bar in downtown Port Angeles, the patrons watching the large wall TV
screens around the bar lounge while drinking beer and eating snacks cheered at the words from Ingrid.
‘’OOOH! THAT’S GOTTA HURT, YOU BLEEDING HEART DUMMY!’
‘’MAYBE WE SHOULD NOMINATE GENERAL DOWS AS OUR NEXT COUNTY
REPRESENTATIVE.’
That last proposal was greeted by a concert of approvals and raised mugs of beer, with very few of the patrons present protesting it.
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In her home on the shores of the Juan de Fuca Strait, Ingrid felt a bit better as she concluded her call to the television station, much of her anger vented out in her remonstrance to the two guests of the talk show. Taking a moment to finish calming herself down, she then decided to go upstairs and go check on her son Michael, whom she had tucked into bed half an hour ago. Climbing the stairs to the upper floor, Ingrid froze for a moment as she was about to step on the upper floor: there was light filtering from the bottom of her son’s bedroom’s door. Wondering what Michael could be doing instead of sleeping, Ingrid silently approached his door, then glued one ear against it to listen. Hearing nothing, she lightly knocked on the door, then slowly opened it and stuck her head inside. What she saw was her son sitting in bed and reading a book, a pillow sandwiched between his back and the head board of his bed. His faithful dog Sniffles was also lying on the bed, next to his master.
‘’You’re reading at this hour, Michael? You should...’
That was when Ingrid realized that the book in her son’s hands was no illustrated kids’
book: it was one of her scientific books dealing with theoretical aerodynamics.
Completely flabbergasted by that, Ingrid fully opened the door and entered the room, then went to the bed and sat on its ledge, next to little Michael.
‘’Michael, how could you be interested is such a technically advanced book? It is full of complicated mathematical formulas.’
‘’So? Michael Crawford was a qualified engineer and I love things about aircraft and aviation.’
‘’You...you fully remember the technical expertise of that past incarnation?’
‘’I do, Mommy. I remember and understand fully everything my past incarnations knew.’
‘’And those aerodynamic flow charts as well?’
Little three-and-a-half-year-old Michael, acting more like an adult than a toddler, lowered his book while looking straight into Ingrid’s eyes with his big gray eyes.
‘’Mommy, I am a half-Celestial, remember? My I.Q. is way superior to that of an average Human child and I am not saying that to brag. Also, remembering my past incarnations helped me mature much faster than normal. You should know that yourself, Mommy.’
Ingrid was silent for a moment while mentally digesting this.
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‘’Yes, I know that, sweetie. I also had that experience with your sister Nancy.
She should have started school at kindergarten level but instead started at fourth year-level after passing scholarly level tests.’
‘’And when will I be able to start school, and at what level, Mommy?’
‘’I don’t know yet, Michael. You would first need a special permission from the local education department to enlist in a higher class level and they would also probably ask you to pass a battery of aptitudes and knowledge tests before taking a decision concerning you.’
‘’When could we ask them, Mommy? I really would like to be able to play and study with other kids.’
‘’I know and perfectly understand that, Michael. Nancy also wanted to play with other kids when she was still little. In fact, she loved her time in school, making friends and playing with them. That’s how she first met Leonardo, your adoptive brother I took in after his parents were assassinated by the Irish Mafia. Give me a few days, while I arrange something about your future education. Now, you really should go to sleep: you wouldn’t want to be tired and sleepy tomorrow, as Sniffles would want to play with you outside, right?’
‘’No, I wouldn’t, Mommy.’ replied Michael, who put aside his book and then caressed his dog. ‘’We will have fun together tomorrow, Sniffles. I promise you that.’
Ingrid moved Michael’s pillow to a flat position, then kissed her son on the forehead as he lay down to sleep.
‘’Sweet dreams, my little angel.’
‘’Thanks, Mommy.’
Getting up from the bed, Ingrid then walked to the open door and switched the bedroom’s lights off before gently closing the door. As she climbed down the stairs to return to her lounge, her mind was already on the problem of how to set up Michael’s education in a way appropriate to his present level of intellect.
08:10 (Seattle Time)
Thursday, November 15, 2007 ‘C’
Main entrance of the Hamilton Elementary School 1822 West 7th Street, Port Angeles
‘’Is this the school where I will study, Mommy?’
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‘’Probably not, sweetie: it is a primary school and serves kids only up to the Sixth Grade. In my opinion, you are already way past that level of knowledge and skills. I booked a meeting with the school’s development coordinator, who will make you pass various tests and exams in order to establish at what grade you should start school.’
‘’Are you going to tell that coordinator about my nature and powers, Mommy?’
asked Michael as Ingrid opened the glass door of the main entrance of the Hamilton Elementary School. Ingrid smiled down to her son at that question.
‘’You were filmed on national television channels while healing people and flying around in Washington, then when you produced that giant healing burst in San Francisco a mere ten days ago. Believe me: she will know about your powers and about your nature as a half-Celestial, so we will have no need to hide anything about you.’
‘’Oh, okay!’
Once inside, Ingrid led Michael in the office of the school’s receptionist, set on one side of the entrance lobby. Knocking first on the frame of the opened door, Ingrid then smiled to the middle-aged woman sitting behind a desk by the large window of the office.
‘’Good morning, miss. My name is Ingrid Dows and I have an appointment for 08:15 with your development coordinator, Miss Rondstad.’
‘’Ah, yes, she is waiting for you and your son in her office, three doors down the main hallway, on the right side.’ replied the receptionist, who then eyed Michael with interest. ‘’So, this is your little angel. He is a truly beautiful boy.’
‘’Thank you, miss.’
‘’You’re welcomed, Misses Dows. You may go to Misses Rondstad’s office now.’
‘’Thank you again, miss.’
As Ingrid and Michael walked down the main hallway, they crossed path with a young girl who was coming out of a washroom and was running back to her class.
Michael smiled to her while waving his right hand, to which the little girl replied briefly before turning into a side corridor. Ingrid grinned at that as they were about to get to the door of the coordinator’s office.
‘’Already trying to make girlfriends, Michael?’
‘’Why not, Mommy? She was cute.’
‘’Right! You definitely inherited from Mike Crawford: he was one incorrigible skirt chaser.’
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Ingrid then knocked on the closed door of the development coordinator, whose name and position was engraved on a brass plaque fixed to the door.
‘’Come in!’
Ingrid opened the door and entered a medium-sized office in which a woman in her late forties sat behind a desk half-covered with various files and papers.
‘’Hello, Misses Rondstad! I am Ingrid Dows and this is my son Michael.’
Sylvia Rondstad nodded her head once and pointed to two chairs set in front of her desk while getting up from her chair to shake hands with Ingrid and with Michael.
‘’Please, have a seat! So, this is your little angel?’
‘’Half-angel.’ corrected Michael, making the development coordinator grin in amusement.
‘’I stand corrected.’
All three sat down before Rondstad spoke to Ingrid.
‘’So, you wish to enroll your son into school for next fall, but want to find what would be the appropriate level of schooling would best fit him.’
‘’Correct, Misses Rondstad. Know that I already went through a similar dilemma before, when my daughter Nancy, who is another half-angel, was ready to start school.
She was then five years-old but ended up starting in Sixth Grade in a school for the gifted near Washington. I suspect that my son will be at least as premature as my daughter: I caught him the other day reading a book in bed. That book happened to be a very technical one on aircraft aerodynamics and, when I asked him about it the next morning, Michael proved to have fully understood it. Know that his most recent past incarnation was that of a man who was a fully qualified engineer.’
Rondstad couldn’t help throw an awed look at Michael.
‘’And how old is he now, Misses Dows?’’
‘’Nearly three years and eight months.’
‘’Three years and eight months... My! This is going to be a most interesting case for me. I will make him pass a number of tests first, starting with an I.Q. test, but I agree with you that he will probably end up starting school at mid or high school level, if not higher. First off, I will ask you to fill the top section of this form with the information concerning your son. Then, I will go with him in a test room, so that he could pass his I.Q. exam in peace and quiet.’
Ingrid took a minute to fill the required lines on the form handed to her by Rondstad, then got up and kissed her son on his forehead.
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‘’Misses Rondstad will now go with you to a test room. Be relaxed and concentrate on that test while I wait for you in the school’s reception lounge.’
‘’I will try not to bust the upper limits of that I.Q. test, Mommy.’ replied Michael, grinning with confidence and making Rondstad chuckle in amusement.
‘’Confident, are we? I like that. Come with me, sweetie.’
Letting the coordinator go with her son, Ingrid went to the visitors’ lounge near the entrance lobby and served herself a cup of coffee from a dispenser machine, then sat down on one of the chairs of the lounge. Sifting through a pile of used magazines stacked on a low table, she found only the usual, insipid collection of old fashion and celebrity magazines one normally found at various professional offices. She finally grabbed a copy of the latest local daily newspaper, the Peninsula Daily News. It actually proved to be an interesting read, as it covered the latest news about the anti-drug campaign led by the federal government against the Mexican drug cartels. That article briefly recalled the role Ingrid had played in that campaign and the way she and her two children had performed huge healing bursts which had basically healed of every sickness and wounds all the American citizens, along with millions of Canadian and Mexican citizens. One page further, she found an article resuming her telephone response to the two guests of that television talk show dealing with the anti-cartel campaign. That article also quoted the opinions of varied citizens of Port Angeles about that television exchange. Ingrid smiled to herself while reading those opinions, which were in the vast majority positive to her. One opinion, which said that she should run for Congress to represent Clallam County, made her chuckle.
‘’Me, becoming a politician? No way that will ever happen!’
She had time to fully read that newspaper and copies of the Seattle Times and of the New York Times before Sylvia Rondstad came to her while holding Michael by one hand. Rondstad seemed a bit shaken up as she stopped in front of Ingrid’s chair.
‘’I have the results of your son’s I.Q. test, Misses Dows. I have to say that, even after being forewarned by you about your son’s intellectual level, the results of his test blew me away. I gave him an I.Q. test reserved for older kids and young adults and he still completed it in record time, while registering a score of 193. Your son is a certified genius, Misses Dows.’
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Beaming with joy and pride, Ingrid pulled her son to her and hugged him, kissing him on both cheeks.
‘’My sweet Michael! I am so proud of you!’
‘’Er, in view of his I.Q. test results, I also asked your son to write down a short essay, in order to evaluate his level of writing and communication skills.’ said Rondstad.
‘’He again performed extremely well and I evaluate that his writing and communication skills are those of a late high school student...at a minimum. I would thus counsel you to register your son with a pre-college level institution for next fall. For that, I am ready to support any registration request you will make with the results of the tests I had your son pass this morning. However, I would be more cautious about your son’s socializing development level. While he clearly acts like a mature young adult, he still needs to interact with other children to some degree before going to study with physically more mature and grown-up young adults. Despite his powers and nature as a half-angel, or rather because of them, pre-college level teenagers may show some negative reactions to having a young toddler attend classes with them, especially if, as I would suspect, your son would academically crush them. Jealousy may become a real problem here.’
Ingrid nodded her head soberly at those words.
‘’You may be right about that, Misses Rondstad. My older daughter Nancy encountered some of that kind of jealousy and envy at first when she started school.
She however eventually dealt with that in a manner that surprised me. Using her superpowers, she morphed her body to look like she was five years older than what she was. I must say that her solution actually worked.’
‘’And your son could actually do that as well?’’ asked the disbelieving coordinator.
‘’Yes, I can!’ answered Michael before Ingrid could speak. ‘’I could transform at will, up to that of a grown man, if I wished so.’
That made Ingrid throw him a cautious look.
‘’Please, don’t go overboard with this, Michael. You may take the appearance of a young adult but, in legal terms, you are still a young child. Getting you to be officially accepted in high school or pre-college institution may prove complicated and require tons of paperwork.’
‘’Paperwork...always paperwork! I hate paperwork!’ shot back Michael with a snicker that made both Ingrid and the coordinator smile in amusement. Ingrid then looked up at Sylvia Rondstad.
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‘’Is there a specific school and grade level which you would recommend for my son, Misses Rondstad?’
Rondstad thought over that for a moment before nodding her head.
‘’I would counsel you to go to the Lincoln High School, here in Port Angeles, and to ask to enroll your son in Grade Nine. Lincoln High School serves the grades from nine to twelve, has an excellent reputation and a high academic score, plus has a small student population, so your son may find it easier to integrate in it than in a larger school.
They will of course want to test your son in order to make their own evaluation but I personally know the development coordinator there and can recommend your son to her.’
‘’That would be most helpful, Misses Rondstad.’ said Ingrid, both happy and relieved. ‘’I will contact that school this afternoon, after you communicate with their development coordinator.’
‘’They in fact may call you first, after I talk with them, Misses Dows. Your son’s case is obviously most unique and the Lincoln High School will probably be most eager to take him as a pupil. I must say that your reputation and that of your children are quite widespread across the whole country and I can’t see how anyone would refuse to enroll your cute son.’
‘’YES!’ nearly shouted Michael, jumping up and down with excitement. ‘’I’M
GOING TO GO TO SCHOOL NEXT YEAR!’
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CHAPTER 20 – BACK IN CAMP LEJEUNE
08:02 (Eastern Standard Time)
Monday, June 30, 2008 ‘C’
Office of the Commandant, 6th Marine Regiment
Camp Lejeune, South Carolina, U.S.A.
Greta came to a halt at attention in front of the desk of Colonel Chris Walters, the commandant of the 6th Marine Regiment, and saluted him.
‘’CAPTAIN GRETA VISBY, REPORTING BACK FOR FIELD DUTY, SIR!’
Walters, getting up from his chair and saluting her back, had a chuckle about the last words she had used.
‘’Welcome back in Camp Lejeune, Captain Visby. You don’t seem to have enjoyed much that desk job in Stockholm, even though you were back in your country of birth.’
‘’I hate desk jobs, sir! I fervently hope that you will not stick me behind another desk, here in Camp Lejeune. What I want is to go back to field duties and to command marines, sir.’
‘’And I will happily grant you your wish, Captain. First off, let me congratulate you on the great job you did in Sweden. You again made the Corps proud by your actions and valor.’
‘’Thank you, sir! So, where am I going to now, sir?’
‘’You will take command of Alpha Company of the First Battalion. You will have two months to acquaint yourself with it, then will embark on the nuclear cruiser U.S.S.
MONTANA as the afloat marine company aboard that ship for a six months at-sea tour around the Indian Ocean.’
Greta grinned with contentment on hearing that: she liked serving on combat ships and the U.S.S. MONTANA had an impressive reputation as a fighting ship, which often made it the ship of choice when the balloon burst somewhere in that part of the World.
‘’That is great news, sir. I will be most happy to get back at sea, where a true marine belongs.’
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‘’I thought so, Captain. Go to your company and prepare your marines for that shipboard tour. The way things are around the Indian Ocean right now, there is plenty of potential for possible action, be it in Africa, the Persian Gulf, in South Asia or Southeast Asia. I know that you will be able to handle about any kind of situation over there. You are dismissed, Captain. Good luck with your new command.’
‘’Thank you, sir!’ replied Greta, saluting Walters again before pivoting on her heels and marching out of his office.
14:25 (Eastern Standard Time)
Saturday, August 30, 2008 ‘C’
Lead bus of convoy carrying Alpha Company/1st Battalion Rolling on the docks of Norfolk Navy Base, Virginia
‘’PIER SEVEN! HERE WE ARE, GUYS: THE U.S.S. MONTANA IS WAITING
FOR US.’
The 38 other marines traveling with Greta in the lead bus of the small convoy which had carried her rifle company from Camp Lejeune to the Norfolk Navy Base gawked in unison through their windows, eyeing the formidable-looking cruiser docked at Pier Seven.
‘’Wow!’ said Corporal Arturo Somoza, the messenger/driver assigned to Greta’s company command element. ‘’That thing is huge! It also has a lot of guns.’
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‘’And I was told that these guns sank a Russian destroyer in mere minutes during a battle in the Mediterranean in 1996, twelve years ago.’ replied Greta while admiring the long, sleek cruiser, with its hull walls sloped inwards in order to deflect radar waves away, making it what was called a ‘stealth ship’. Apart from its four twin gun main turrets, another prominent feature of the MONTANA was its long helicopter hangar and flight deck, which occupied nearly the whole aft portion of the ship. Sitting on the flight deck were four Hiller PELICAN VTOL assault transport aircraft she could recognize despite of the protective canvas tarps covering them. She smiled with satisfaction on seeing those aircraft: together, they would have enough troop capacity to transport her whole rifle company in one shot, landing her marines anywhere at the vertical and allowing her to assault any objective as needed. The design of the Hiller PELICAN was already a good fifteen years-old but it still was the workhorse of both the U.S. Navy, Marine Corps and U.S. Army, being used in a number of variants, including troop transport, anti-submarine warfare and pure cargo aircraft, all capable of takeoff and landing at the vertical. That thought made Greta wonder what kind of aircraft would eventually replace it in American service, around ten to fifteen years from now.
Whatever did so would have in her opinion to have the same vertical takeoff and landing capabilities of the PELICAN, as that feature had amply proved to be a crucial one in modern combat. The civilian, unarmed variant of the PELICAN was also in widespread use around the World, as its ability to land anywhere while carrying cargo, passengers and supplies had made it the favorite of small airlines deserving remote regions and isolated islands. Greta had seen many of them while in Alaska and had even taken a ride as a paying passenger in one of them between Nome and Fairbanks. The only small criticism Greta had about the Hiller PELICAN was the limited free height of its cargo cabin, which did not allow for the carrying of full-sized pickup trucks or other vehicles higher than small all-terrain vehicles and compact cars. Still, in the role of assault transport, the PELICAN was still king.
The six buses and two cargo trucks carrying her rifle company and its equipment soon stopped on the quay of Pier Seven, next to the dominating mass of the nuclear cruiser. Grabbing her own military backpack, Greta shouted a short directive at the other marines in her bus before climbing down to the surface of the quay.
‘’ALRIGHT, MARINES: GRAB YOUR GEAR AND LINE UP ON THE QUAY.’
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The marines of her company command and support section promptly obeyed her and got out of the bus, to then grab their backpacks and kit bags stored in the cargo compartments situated under the floor of their bus. While she had kept her own backpack and rifle with her in the bus, Greta did retrieve one item from the cargo compartments that made her marines smile in amusement, with Arturo Somoza making a remark as Greta pulled out what looked like a large, well-padded doll made of thick red leather.
‘’There is her sex doll!’
The company’s property NCO, Sergeant Tony Rossini, gave him a cautious look at that remark.
‘’You know that our company commander uses it as a prop for our unarmed combat practices and teaching demonstrations, Arturo...unless you volunteer to take its place as a punching bag and soak up kicks to the nuts.’
‘’Er, no thank you, Sergeant.’
With the 208 marines of her rifle company following her in single file, Greta soon climbed the gangway linking the quay with the starboard access point of the cruiser, where three U.S. Navy officers were waiting for her. Once up inside the starboard access point, Greta came to attention and saluted the senior-most officer, who wore the rank insignias of a navy captain.
‘’Captain Greta Visby, Commander of Alpha Company, First Battalion, Sixth Marine Regiment, requesting permission to come aboard with my company, sir!’
The navy captain, a lean man in his late forties, saluted her back before speaking.
‘’Permission granted, Captain Visby. Welcome aboard the U.S.S. MONTANA. I am Captain Richard Eldrige, in command of this cruiser. The two junior officers with me will guide you and your marines to your quarters. Once installed, you are invited to come to the ship’s conference room, where I will brief you and your officers about our incoming at-sea tour.’
‘’If I may, sir, I would need some help from your crew to unload and carry aboard the ammunition and field equipment we brought in our two cargo trucks, sir.’
‘’And we will be happy to help in that, Captain Visby. Know that there is some trouble brewing presently around the Middle East and Persian Gulf areas, so your company of marines could well prove most useful on this cruise.’
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‘’We are here to bring order to troublemakers, sir.’ replied a smiling Greta, making Eldrige also smile.
‘’With your reputation, I do not doubt that one second, Captain Visby.
Lieutenants Benson and Goodman will now guide you and your marines to your quarters. Are there other female marines in your unit, Captain, so that we could assign proper cabins to them?’
‘’I have only one other woman in my company, sir: Private Penny Stone.’
‘’Good! Know that the MONTANA personnel quarters were built in accordance with the revised 1992 Navy at-sea quarters standards promulgated by General of the Army Dows. Each of you will thus occupy an individual cabin.’
‘’Excellent, sir!’ said Greta, most happy to hear that. ‘’We are ready to follow your two officers.’
‘’Then, I will leave you in the good hands of my two junior officers. Again, welcome aboard the MONTANA.’
‘’Thank you, sir!’
Both of them then exchanged salutes again before Eldrige left the access point, leaving his two lieutenants, one male and one female, facing Greta. The male one, whose rank equaled that of Greta, stepped forward to shake hands with her.
‘’I am Navy Lieutenant Charles Benson, the ship’s intelligence officer. My colleague is Lieutenant Janet Goodman, our aviation detachment commander. I will let her lead your marines to their quarters while I will get a work party from our quartermaster section, so that your ammunition and field gear can be unloaded from your trucks and be brought aboard. We do have quite extensive facilities meant to accommodate up to a reinforced marine company, including large warehouse spaces.
They are now all yours, Janet.’
The female Navy aviator, a pretty woman in her late twenties who was a good half head shorter than Greta, shook hands with her while smiling to her.
‘’I am pleased to greet aboard the famous ‘Viking Shield Maiden’. You have gained quite a reputation in the fleet with your exploits in Somalia, Afghanistan and now Sweden, Captain. I will now lead you to the marines’ quarters section, which is situated in the aft section of the Main Deck. If you will please follow me.’
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Followed in single file by her marines loaded down with their big backpacks and weapons, Greta walked behind Janet Goodman along the passageways of the cruiser, heading towards the aft end of the big ship.
‘’In my mission briefing papers, your ship was designated as ‘CBGN-1. Isn’t the suffix for a nuclear cruiser ‘CN’?’
‘’Yes, but the MONTANA is part of a special breed of warships in history: it is a battlecruiser, which were historically designated with the suffix ‘CB’. Being as well a nuclear-propelled ship armed with missiles, it thus makes our ship a CBGN, the first to enter U.S. Navy service in 1995. Three more nuclear battlecruisers, the USS
WYOMING, the USS SOUTH DAKOTA and the USS NEW YORK, have since entered service. The main mission of our nuclear battlecruisers is to patrol the high seas while staying close to known trouble spots, ready to react to potential crisis around the World.
For that reason, our ship was built with facilities for a reinforced marine rifle company, along with an extensive aviation capability and a very heavy long-range missile armament to supplement its gun battery. Are you and your marines familiar with the Hiller PELICAN assault VTOL transport, Captain?’
‘’We all are, Lieutenant. I myself flew in combat on PELICANs during war operations in the Caucasus, in Somalia and in Afghanistan. It is an excellent warhorse and my marines like it a lot.’
‘’Good! It has been in service for over fifteen years already but I believe that it has many years of good service left in it.’
‘’I hope that, when it will be replaced, it will be by something with the same kind of capabilities as the PELICAN has. Its VTOL capabilities in particular are extremely useful to us marines in assault missions and its top speed and range are way superior to those of any helicopter.’
‘’Agreed! While I believe that it is only talk around the Pentagon right now, I have heard that a program to get a successor to the Hiller PELICAN family is already being discussed in Washington. However, it is all at the very early stage of discussion.’
‘’I hope that they will consider the Hiller Company for such a future aircraft: Hiller makes some incredible VTOL aircraft. I saw their SKYTRUCK at work in Afghanistan four years ago and it was one impressive beast indeed. It was even piloted at that time by its conceptor and designer, ex-General Ingrid Dows. I was able to meet her then: she is one hell of a fighting woman.’
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‘’You can say that again, Captain Visby. She richly earned her title as ‘best fighter pilot in the World’. Personally, I am quite jealous of her continued youth. As for her supernatural powers, I can hardly describe how fantastic they are.’
‘’Yeah! What she and her daughter and young son did when they performed those mass healings last November was downright stupendous.’
As they progressed along the ship’s passageways, Goodman pointed at the various sections they went by, so that Greta could start learning her way around the cruiser. After a few minutes, the female aviator stopped in front of the entrance to a large passageway intersection marked by a prominent sign.
‘’The marine quarters section, also known to our sailors as ‘Marine Country’: it is arranged in four platoon areas, one support sub-unit area and one command area, in which your cabin is. As was said before, every marine in your unit will have his own cabin, along with platoon washing facilities and a company assembly area. If you will call up your first rifle platoon, I will show them their designated platoon area.’
‘’No problem!’ replied Greta before turning around and shouting out loud.
‘’FIRST PLATOON, COME FORWARD!’
That made Goodman giggle briefly.
‘’I see that lung power is still an important asset in the U.S. Marine Corps.’
‘’You bet it is, Lieutenant.’ replied Greta with a smile.
At Greta’s shout, Lieutenant Carlos Gonzales stepped forward, followed by the 42
marines of his platoon, and saluted both Greta and Janet Goodman.
‘’First Rifle Platoon, ready as requested, maam.’
‘’Lieutenant Gonzales, Lieutenant Goodman will now show you the quarters for your platoon. Take the time to unpack and settle in: I will soon come and collect you so that we could go attend a command briefing with Captain Eldridge, the skipper of this cruiser.’
Greta actually followed closely Gonzales and Goodman, wanting to check by herself the quality of the marine quarters on this ship. What she saw more than satisfied her. Every junior marine had a small but well-designed individual cabin measuring three meters by two meters and furnished with a bunk bed mounted above a desk and a large locker, while a storage bench seat faced a small flat-screen television hooked on a partition. There was also a small sink unit in a far corner, plus a strong-looking steel
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locker for individual weapons which could be locked, something particularly useful for Greta’s marines. The more senior marines of the rank of sergeant and above had even larger cabins measuring three meters by four meters, which added a bathroom section to the cabin’s facilities. When time came to show its quarters to her second rifle platoon, Janet Goodman looked with curiosity mixed with interest at Private Penny Stone as the female marine marched past her. Stone was tall for a woman, measuring close to six feet, was sturdily built and appeared quite muscular. She also had a pale skin, fiery red hair and green eyes. Janet nodded her head and looked at Greta after Stone had passed by her, speaking to Greta in a near whisper.
‘’Your female marine certainly looks like a tough character, Captain.’
‘’She definitely is, Lieutenant. Before joining the Marine Corps, she was a professional wrestler and had been trained by her father, himself a wrestler. Add to that a fiery character typical of an Irish girl and some intensive musculation practice and you have a young woman who could beat the shit out of many of your sailors.’
Goodman smiled at that, then looked at Greta’s muscular arms, exposed by her rolled-up combat shirt sleeves.
‘’Talking of musculation, you are quite well endowed yourself, Captain. Know that we have a small but well-equipped musculation room, on top of an aerobic fitness room with exercise bikes and rowing machines. They are on the Lower Deck, two decks down from this section, and are adjacent to the ship’s gymnasium, which doubles as an assembly area for the embarked marine unit.’
‘’Great! I will certainly use these rooms during our cruise. I fully intend to keep my marines in top shape while at sea. Would Captain Eldridge have something against having a bunch of marines running daily up and down ladders inside his ship?’
‘’As long as they don’t obstruct the crew’s movements around the ship, I don’t think that he will object to that, Captain.’
‘’Then I will seek his approval for that after our command meeting.’
When Greta was finally shown her own cabin by Janet Goodman, she saw that it measured a good four meters by four meters, had a fully equipped private bathroom and had also a proper work desk facing a pair of sofas and a television screen. She shook her head in amusement as she thought about the old-style accommodations her marines would have found a mere fifteen years ago on older ships: basically, three-tiered bunk beds with tiny lockers and no privacy at all. Another huge improvement compared to the
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old times was the revised Navy policy about alcohol consumption on American warships.
Thanks again to General of the Army Dows, who had strong-armed the Navy into paying more attention to the needs of lowly sailors and marines at sea, the U.S. Navy was no longer a ‘dry’ navy, and this since 1995. Taking a page out of the navies of allied NATO
member nations, limited and controlled alcohol consumption was now allowed in ships’
messes, with a tight drinks accounting system kept in order to avoid incidences of drunkenness on warships while at sea. That new policy had at first being bitterly resisted by the more conservative leaders of the Navy but the positive results and the vast improvement in morale that both the new habitability standards and the ‘wet’ policy had brought, along with the greatly boosted reenlistment rates, had finally silenced the critics. Taking off her backpack, helmet and armored vest, she first secured her rifle and pistol in the weapons locker of her cabin, then quickly unpacked her things, distributing them around the large locker, the under-bed drawers and the bench seat’s storage.
Once that was done, she went around the platoon areas allotted to her company, collecting her platoon leaders, her second-in-command, First Lieutenant Jiro Watanabe, and her company senior NCO, Master Sergeant Vincent ‘Mafioso’ Gambino. With her five officers and Gambino following her, Greta then went in search of the ship’s command conference room, asking a ship’s petty officer for directions on the way. That petty officer proved most helpful, as he took the time to personally lead Greta and her command group to the entrance of the ship’s conference room, situated under the waterline of the cruiser’s centerline hull, just above the cruiser’s Combat Information Center, or C.I.C., which was the heart and brain of the ship’s combat capability.
Thanking that petty officer, Greta then entered the conference room, which had a long table big enough to sit twenty persons. Inside, she found Lieutenants Benson and Goodman already sitting around the table, along with two other Navy officers. All four of those got up at her entrance, with the most senior one, a female lieutenant commander, coming to her to shake hands with Greta.
‘’Pleased to meet you, Captain Visby. I am Lieutenant Commander Sharon Phillips, the operations officer of the MONTANA. Also present here are Lieutenants Benson and Goodman, which you already met, and Lieutenant Kate MacDonald, our navigator.’
‘’And I am happy to be aboard with my marines for this operational cruise, Commander Phillips. At what time will this meeting begin?’
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‘’In about ten minutes, Captain Visby, time for the Skipper to take care of a few details.’
‘’Good! May I present in turn to you Lieutenants Jiro Watanabe, Carlos Gonzales, Sydney Vaughn, Thomas Green and Peter Weathers, plus Master Sergeant Vincent Gambino?’
A round of handshakes followed before they all sat around the table. Looking first at a large World map displayed on one wall, Greta then looked at Phillips.
‘’I suppose that we will be crossing into the Pacific via the Panama Canal and then head towards the Indian Ocean, Commander?’
‘’Actually, no! Our ship is a trimaran hull design and is too wide to fit in the locks of the Panama Canal. Thus, instead of doing the grand tour around the southern tip of South America to sail into the Pacific, we will head East, towards the Mediterranean and the Suez Canal. That route to the Indian Ocean is actually shorter than even the one West via the Panama Canal. However, we may end up staying for a while inside the Mediterranean once in it.’
‘’Oh? I thought that this patrol was going to concentrate on the area of the Indian Ocean, Commander.’
‘’We though so as well...until new instructions from the Pentagon arrived two days ago. I can’t give you all the details about those new instructions, as they are based on highly classified intelligence sources, but I can tell you that some potential and very serious trouble is brewing up around the Middle East. Captain Eldridge will brief us about those new instructions once he will be with us.’
Greta exchanged looks with her officers and with Master Sergeant Gambino, then looked back at Phillips.
‘’I knew that things had been heating up a bit around the Middle East but the medias have barely covered that area lately, treating it as ‘situation normal, all fucked up’.’
Sharon Phillips smiled in amusement at Greta’s use of that most popular expression in the American armed forces, an expression commonly called in short ‘SNAFU’.
‘’The Middle East is certainly a fucked-up region, always has been, but indications are that things there could soon sour pretty quickly. But I will let Captain Eldridge tell you about that.’
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The group then fell mostly silent, except for some small talk about the ship’s facilities, until Captain Eldridge entered the room with a navy commander and three other officers, prompting Sharon Phillips to rise from her seat and shout.
‘’ROOM!’
Greta, like the others present around the table, also rose to her feet as Phillips saluted Eldridge.
‘’All present for this meeting, sir.’
‘’Thank you, Commander. Please sit down, all of you.’
All the persons in the room, including Eldridge, sat down at the table, with the skipper of the MONTANA then speaking to them in a sober tone.
‘’Welcome, all of you, to this command meeting. I will start first by saying that what you will hear is classified ‘Top Secret’ and is based on intelligence materiel of even higher classification that only me and two other officers on this ship are cleared to read.
I will however do my best to convey to you the general sense of what that materiel means to us while staying within the ‘Top Secret’, non-Special Access limits of that information.’
Eldridge then nodded once to Charles Benson, who was his intelligence officer. ‘’You may start explaining the new situation to our group, Lieutenant Benson.’
‘’Yes sir!’ said Benson before punching a few buttons on the computer keyboard set at his position, making a detailed map of the Eastern Mediterranean and of the Middle East appear on a giant wall display screen. Greta immediately focused on that map, which showed a number of symbols, as Benson spoke up.
‘’Good afternoon to all. Two days ago, we received from the Pentagon some fresh intelligence and new mission orders concerning the situation in the Middle East.
While things there have not flared up yet, signs are that the situation may be about to turn for the worse...the much worse. Basically, religious extremism is again raising its ugly head there, this time mixed in with the threat of nuclear weapons.’
Those last words made Greta tense up, along with her officers, as Benson continued.
‘’As you well known, much of the Pakistani nuclear arsenal was eliminated by us four years ago during our operation in Afghanistan, along with the Pakistani’s ability to produce more nuclear weapons. Our operations in Afghanistan also decimated and pushed out of the country both the ruling Taliban and their Al Qaeda protégés.
Unfortunately, it now seems that some Pakistani nuclear weapons did survive our airstrikes and were then moved to new, secret storage locations. Additionally, what was
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left of the Pakistani military leadership also helped the surviving Taliban and Al Qaeda leaders by transporting them to new, secure locations inside some Middle Eastern countries which support their extreme ideologies. Two of those countries are Saudi Arabia and Syria, while Lebanon, with its quasi-failed state government still incapable of controlling its own territory, is now the unwilling guest of some of those extremists. As for Israel, you may remember that its own nuclear arsenal, along with its Dimona nuclear complex, was destroyed in 1976 by what appeared then to be a supernatural intervention from the entity which General Dows calls ‘The One’. Well, the Israeli government has since rebuilt its nuclear arsenal, on top of building a new nuclear reactor and weapons production complex in the Negev Desert. Now, here is the truly sensitive part of this briefing, ladies and gentlemen. Without going into the ‘Special Material’
details of our new intelligence, we have recent intelligence that says that at least two and maybe three ex-Pakistani nuclear warheads may have been moved to Saudi Arabia and Lebanon and could possibly be controlled by Taliban and Al Qaida extremists bent on destroying Israel. To make matters worse, the Israelis, who possess a very effective intelligence service, may have caught a glimpse of that possible new threat to their country and may decide to strike first. All this means that, on top of the usual tense situation around the Middle East, things could even go nuclear over there, and this with little to no warning.’
Greta and her subalterns collectively stiffened and held their breaths on hearing that awful assessment. That was when Captain Eldridge spoke up.
‘’Now, as bad as this sounds, we unfortunately don’t have enough solid intelligence to confirm this scenario or to pinpoint firm locations about those Pakistani nukes. All this is still soft, unproven information. However, we must be ready to react quickly if this new threat is confirmed or materializes. Washington is thus sending us to the Eastern Mediterranean at top speed, where we will stand by to react to any new developments. Exceptionally, and in view of how fast things could possibly degenerate, the Pentagon has given me a wide latitude on how we will be allowed to react to any crisis or new intelligence, so that we could react quickly to any new situation. This basically means that, if the Pentagon directly gives me the green light and if speed of reaction is essential, then we on this ship will be free to act as best we judge, without waiting for Navy headquarters or regional command to sort out a plan of action. This is quite unprecedented, but so is the possible disaster we would face if any nuclear weapon is detonated within the Middle East. I intend for us to sail from Norfolk by
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nightfall, once all our supplies are finished being replenished. I also will want you to study in detail what we known about the present situation in the Middle East and to start devising contingency plans so that we could quickly react to any possible scenario.
Lieutenant-Commander Phillips will direct that contingency planning with Lieutenant Benson and Captain Visby. Once inside the Mediterranean, I will review your contingency plans and will vet them or, if need be, will ask you to work further on them.
That is all for the moment, ladies and gentlemen. I will keep you informed of any new intelligence we may receive from Washington during the coming days. You are now dismissed.’
As the ones present rose from their chairs and started filing out, Greta went to Charles Benson, a question on her lips.
‘’Lieutenant Benson, would you have some recognition booklets or other guides to the Middle East that I could borrow, so that me and my officers could read up on the region?’
‘’Uh, I have only a couple of copies of such publications at present, Captain, but I was promised a shipment of booklets on the Middle East for this cruise, along with extra, more detailed maps of the Middle East. We are in fact expecting them today, before our departure. I will inform you as soon as I get them.’
‘’Thanks!’ said Greta, who then joined up with her subalterns and spoke to them as a tight group.
‘’Okay, people. If the balloon does go up, our role will obviously be to go raid any ground location which is said to shelter one of those Pakistani nukes, either to confirm intel reports about them or to destroy or carry away such nuclear weapons if we find them. Any long-range strike will be a job for the weapons on this ship. For the moment, we will keep this information about possible nukes in the Middle East to ourselves. Do not tell our troops about this until I authorize you to do so. As well, tell your marines to not call home and talk about our deployment. The last thing we want is to have nasty rumors starting to spread at home while we are at sea. Understood?’
‘’Yes, maam!’ was the collective reply.
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CHAPTER 21 – FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL
08:02 (Seattle Time)
Tuesday, September 02, 2008 ‘C’
Parking lot of the Lincoln High School
924 West 9th Street, Port Angeles
State of Washington, U.S.A.
Ingrid parked her Pontiac FIREBIRD TRANS AM sports car in a spot near the main entrance of the Lincoln High School, which was situated a mere 3.5 kilometers from her home, then shut down her engine and looked at her son Michael, who was sitting in the front passenger seat. According to his official birth certificate, Michael was now four and a half years-old but he presently looked like an extremely handsome eight-or nine-year-old boy, with a body of commensurate size. Before the time had come to start attending school for the first time in his life, Michael had expressed to his mother his anxiety about being possibly laughed at and ridiculed by teenage students because of his toddler’s body. He had then proposed to Ingrid that he do the same as what his older sister Nancy had done at around the same age and for the same reasons: to use his celestial powers to morph his body from that of a toddler to that of a late preteen.
Ingrid had hesitated at first to allow him to do so but had finally relented after reminding herself how that had worked out for Nancy: actually, pretty well. Like in the case of Nancy, Michael’s level of maturity was already that of an adult, thanks to him remembering all of his past incarnations. Michael was in fact probably going to prove to his classmates to be a lot more mature than the teenage boys who were going to throw barbs at him about him needing to be in early primary school rather than in ninth grade.
The main worry for Ingrid about all this was that, with his memories of having been both an adult man and an adult woman during his past incarnations, her son could get in trouble by showing premature sexual interest in the teenage girls studying at the Lincoln High School.
‘’Here we are, Michael. Ready for your big day?’
‘’I am, Mom.’
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‘’Then, let’s step out of the car. I will go with you at first to see where you must go for your first class.’
Coming out of the car and then linking hands with Michael while they walked to the main entrance, the mother and son duo passed the glass doors of the school and were greeted inside by a school staff member holding a clipboard with a printed list on it.
The mature woman smiled to both of them and shook hands with Ingrid while speaking to her.
‘’Hi! I’m Janet Emerson, the school’s executive secretary. Welcome to Lincoln High School.’
‘’Thanks! My name is Ingrid Dows and I am escorting in my son Michael on his first day of school. Where should he go now?’
Emerson’s smile faded a bit on hearing their names and looked down at Michael.
‘’Oh! So, you are our new angel, Michael?’’
‘’Only half-angel, Misses Emerson.’ replied Michael with a relaxed smile, making the woman nod once before looking back at Ingrid.
‘’The classroom for the ninth grade is the first door on the left side once you will have turned into the main hallway, Miss Dows. It has been marked by a clearly visible panel. Classes will start in twenty minutes.’
‘’Thank you, madam.’ replied Ingrid before starting to walk with her son towards the main hallway, visible from the school’s reception lobby. Janet Emerson watched the duo go for a moment, then concentrated back on her reception duties as a pair of teenage girls entered the school.
Easily finding the ninth grade’s classroom, Ingrid faced her son and gently kissed him on his forehead.
‘’Here you are, my sweet boy. Have a nice day in school.’
‘’Thanks, Mom.’
Ingrid then walked away, returning to the main entrance lobby and leaving Michael in front of the classroom’s door. Readjusting first the carrying strap of his school bag, Michael then opened the door and stepped inside a large classroom with twenty neatly lined up school desks. However, only six of those desks were occupied by teenagers, while a woman in her forties stood in front of a big blackboard. The teacher smiled at once to him and grabbed a clipboard and a pen which had been lying on her front desk.
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‘’Hello! Welcome to the ninth-grade class. I am Susan Moore, your English and history teacher and the person in charge of Ninth Grade. May I have your name?’
‘’Yes, Misses Moore. My name is Michael Dows.’
Michael didn’t miss the instant but discrete reaction of the woman to his name: she obviously had been told in advance about his special nature. Susan Moore however quickly recovered her composure and checked his name on her list of students before showing him the empty desks.
‘’Welcome to this classroom, Michael. You may take a seat while we wait for the still missing students for this new school year.’
‘’Thank you, Misses Moore.’ replied Michael before quickly looking around at the six teenagers sitting at desks. Three of them were girls, with one of them, a very pretty Asian girl, attracting his attention at once. He thus made his way to the empty desk next to that girl and put down his school bag, then sat down and smiled to the girl, who was about fourteen or fifteen.
‘’Hello! I’m Michael, Michael Dows.’
‘’And I am Li Jiang. You look a bit young to be in ninth grade, no?’
‘’Even more than you could think, Jiang.’ replied Michael with a malicious smile.
‘’Appearances can be deceiving. But I will explain that to you later, during the first class break.’
‘’As you wish, Michael.’
The next student to show up was a boy of clear Asian ethnicity with light brown skin. He announced himself as ‘Manuel Quezon’ when Misses Moore asked for his name, making Michael nod his head: the boy was most probably a Filipino-American.
He was quickly followed by a big black teenage boy named Thomas King, then by a pretty girl named Natalie Wood and by another girl named Kimi Oshiwa, whose beauty made Michael smile in appreciation. The two last students to show up were boys, one named Jose Bautista, who had obvious Latino looks, the other a Chinese-American named John Lee. With her class pupils now all present, Susan Moore put down her clipboard and pen and addressed her thirteen pupils.
‘’Welcome again to the Lincoln High School, boys and girls. Since this is the first day of the school year, there won’t be formal classes today. Instead, you will get to become familiar with the layout of the school and will also meet with your various teachers assigned to ninth grade. The Lincoln High School is dedicated to providing
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high quality, inclusive education between grades nine and twelve and to prepare its pupils for university-level education. We will start this day by you presenting yourselves in turn to your classmates. I will now start naming you in alphabetical order, following which you will then come forward and face the class to give us a quick presentation about yourselves. Jose Bautista, you’re first!’
The Latino boy got up from his school desk and walked to the front of the class, then faced his classmates before starting to speak in a good English tainted with a Mexican accent.
‘’Hello! My name is Jose Bautista and I came from Mexico with my family nine years ago, when I was six years-old. I have since become an American citizen and I hope to one day become a musician and singer. I particularly like to play the guitar.
Well, that’s about it about me.’
‘’Good presentation, Jose. Next will be David Cohen.’
Cohen, a tall and fit boy with curly black hair, quickly came to the front of the classroom and smiled to his classmate.
‘’Shalom to all! My name is David Cohen and I am fifteen. I love cooking and have been learning from my mother, who is an expert baker and pastry chef. My dream is to become a pastry chef and to one day open my own bakery shop here in Port Angeles. I also like to play the violin and the bass.’
As Cohen went back to his desk, Moore smiled to Michael.
‘’I believe that it is your turn, Michael.’’
‘’Yes, Misses Moore.’ replied Michael while getting up from his chair. As he walked to the front of the class, he reminded himself of the counsels Ingrid had given him about staying modest and not flaunt his nature as a half-Celestial. He thus kept his presentation short and unpretentious.
‘’Hello to all of you. My name is Michael Dows and I was born here, in Port Angeles. My mother works at the Hiller Corporation aircraft production plant, situated here at the airport. I am fascinated by airplanes and hope one day to become an aeronautical engineer, like my mother.’
To his relief and that of Misses Moore, none of the other students connected him with his true nature and past public exploits, so he was able to return to his desk without having created a sensation. A few minutes later, the Asian girl who had caught his eyes on him entering the classroom took her turn to present herself, listened religiously to by Michael.
One reason that attracted him to her was that Li Jiang bore a striking resemblance with
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the Chinese slave girl Borscha, his past incarnation as a Siberian hunter, trapper and fisherman from the Third Century, had bought and then genuinely fell in love with. That girl, named Lu, had not been much older than what Jiang was now and had given Borscha three children, returning fully his love for her. Borscha had actually died defending Lu and their children from a group of marauders.
‘’Good morning to you all! My name is Li Jiang and I am fourteen years-old. I was born here in the United States but my parents came from Taiwan sixteen years ago.
They now operate a small restaurant here in Port Angeles. My tastes are in classical music, painting and arts in general and I love creating things. I would like to one day become a professional artist, but I don’t know yet in what specialty. Well, that’s it for the moment.’
Michael had to restrain himself not to applaud as she walked back to her desk but gave her a big smile as she sat back, speaking to her in a whisper.
‘’Would you mind if we ate lunch together at noon, Jiang?’
She showed a mix of amusement and surprise at his question and replied to him in a whisper.
‘’Uh, okay.’
‘’Swell!’
As they listened to the other classmates presenting themselves in front of the class, Jiang wondered about the fact that a boy of no more than ten could be attracted to a teenage girl like herself. The other girls in the school were probably going to laugh at her for having lunch with a preteen. On the other hand, she did find this Michael Dows to be extremely handsome as a boy, even though he was on the young side for her. As she listened on to the presentations, Jiang couldn’t help rehash the boy’s name in her mind: she had heard it before in recent news but it had been connected to that of a small toddler boy of about four years of age, so this Michael Dows clearly could not be the same boy. She finally put that on simple coincidence and kept listening to her classmates.
Once the last student in the class had presented herself, Susan Moore distributed copies of their school class schedules, which indicated the matter and teacher they would attend and at which times and locations they would do so. Just before the school’s bell rang to announce the first class break at 09:40, Moore announced that the next class was going to be used to tour the school, so that the
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students could get familiar with its layout and its staff. While Michael and Jiang got up from their chairs, they stayed inside the classroom, like many other students, while a few went to the washrooms for a toilet break. When the bell rang again, five minutes later, their teacher led them out in the hallway and guided them around the school, pointing out to her pupils the various classrooms, offices, laboratories and students’ facilities, including the large cafeteria and the gymnasium. In the process, they got to meet briefly with the various teachers who would give them classes in mathematics, physics, biology, chemistry, physical education, arts and religion. The students met the teacher for that last subject matter in his office, as there was no specific classroom dedicated to the teaching of religion. Michael, who had not selected religion as an elective matter, showed little interest in Pastor Malcolm Brown, an Evangelical minister, but the reverse was not the same, as Brown locked his eyes on Michael on seeing him file in into his office with the other ninth grade students. He was still fixing Michael when Susan Moore presented him to her students.
‘’Boys and girls, this is Pastor Malcolm Brown, the school’s religion teacher. I know that not all of you selected religious studies as an elective, but he will be available to all if you ever need spiritual counseling one day. He will also bless the various school-wide activities during the year.’
Once Moore was finished speaking, Brown approached her and whispered into her hear while still looking at Michael, making Moore nod her head once. Li Jiang, who was an intelligent and perceptive girl, was intrigued by that, like a few of the other students, while Michael stayed impassive and simply stared back at Brown. As Susan Moore led her students out to go visit the school’s gymnasium, Jiang couldn’t help ask Michael about that.
‘’Why was Pastor Brown staring at you like that, Michael? Did you meet him before?’
‘’Today was the first day that I saw him, Jiang. He probably recognized me from the televised news back in last November. Let’s say that our views about religion most probably don’t concord.’
Jiang, finally understanding who Michael was, froze and looked at him with big eyes, involuntarily raising her voice as she exclaimed her surprise.
‘’You’re the small angel who performed mass healings in Washington and San Francisco in November?’
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Michael then wished that he would have avoided that but it was now too late: the whole class was now staring at him with big eyes.
‘Damn! Here we go!’ he thought before replying to her in a calm, soft voice.
‘’Yes, I am, Jiang. I was hoping to keep discrete about this but I guess that the cat is now out of the bag.’
‘’I...I’m sorry, Michael. I should not have said that out loud.’
‘’That’s alright, Jiang. It would have blown in the open soon enough anyway, I guess.’
Michael then faced the rest of his classmates and spoke quietly to them.
‘’I am sorry for having hidden this to you, my friends. I only wished to go to school like any normal kid and to stay discrete about my nature as a half-Human, half-Celestial. Yes, I have many superpowers but I don’t intend to show them off or to brag about them. I came here simply to study and to socialize with other kids while growing up here in Port Angeles. I would be most thankful to you if you would still treat me like any other boy in this school.’
‘’Why did you want to go to a school to study at all? Do you really need to attend school, with the powers you have?’’ asked Jennifer Hatfield, a fifteen-year-old blonde, making Michael shake his head.
‘’Powers do not equate with knowledge, Jennifer. I do already have a vast sum of knowledge, thanks to the souvenirs from my past incarnations, but I am somewhat lacking in modern knowledge, like contemporary biology and chemistry, and I also wished to learn to socialize with other American kids.’
Susan Moore, seeing the impact that this could bring to her class, then took a decision and spoke to her students in a sober tone.
‘’Boys and girls, I find Michael’s request to be most reasonable and sensible.
After visiting the gymnasium, we will return to our classroom to digest all this in a calm manner. Michael, would you be ready to answer the questions of your classmates and to tell them more about you, once in the privacy of our classroom?’
Michael visibly sighed but still nodded his head.
‘’I would! However, don’t expect me to demonstrate some of my powers to you.
I vowed not to use them around school, unless someone gets into some kind of trouble and needs help.’
The group nodded to that, bringing relief to him and to Susan Moore.
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CHAPTER 22 – A TOUGH SET OF REQUIREMENTS
10:19 (Seattle Time)
Thursday, September 04, 2008 ‘C’
Head office, Boeing Airplane Company
Seattle, State of Washington
