When dawn light began to creep into the sky soon after four o’clock in the morning that Saturday, everything at Lyceum was very quiet and very still.
Sister Lynette was in the office doing some computer file maintenance, and Sarah had just recently headed outside with Brother Phil to accompany him on his rounds. They wore sweaters, but were looking forward to a sunny summer day. Brother Phil was carrying a small envelope.
Back in the office, the telephone chimed, and Sister Lynette worked at her computer screen to assemble a quote for conference center and laboratory use for someone on the east coast.
“...so that will be three breakfasts, four lunches, and three dinners, all standard quality?... all but the final dinner, deluxe quality... and you’re expecting all sixty people at all meals?... okay... now if you’ll tell me a little about your organization, I can probably figure in a discount... the Association of Industrial Chemists... so you are a non-profit organization for the exchange of information within your profession?... no, we’re not bothered at all that you’re not an environmental or social service agency... yes, in fact, the promotion of scientific understanding is one of our primary missions... you’re welcome, and I can apply a twenty-five percent discount from our base price for these services, which brings you to nine thousand three hundred and fifty... yes, I would be happy to put that in writing, but also I notice that you are based in Baltimore. Are you aware that we can also provide you with this
entire package at our new Atlanta campus?... yes, this quote would apply to either location... okay, I’ll get everything in the mail to you today. Thank you very much for allowing us to offer you these services.”
Within a few minutes after the call was complete, she had an entire packet of information sheets, brochures, and the printed quote, all in a large envelope ready to be mailed.
Out in the slowly gathering dawn light, Brother Phil quietly slipped the small envelope under the windshield wiper of the old van that had arrived in the parking lot about an hour before. Sarah smiled, and wished she could be there when the family asleep within discovered that they were being provided with two days of free lodging, meals, and fun things to do. A toy on the dash board had revealed to her that a child was probably inside. She wondered if she would be able to meet the young person, and whether or not they would be nice.
Sister Lynette’s attention was drawn away from her computer by a weak and distorted voice coming from the radio console on the far side of the office.
She rolled her chair over to it and listened intently. An indicator light told her that it was coming from the emergency channels scanner, and glancing at a chart on the wall, she could see that it was a private aircraft frequency. The speaker had a thick oriental accent.
“...explosion in engine two... pressure losing... Mayday... south of Mount Wilson... Secretary Qiaozhen... Secretary Liya... Senator Buchanan...
Mayday... six thousand feet...”
Even as she continued to listen, Sister Lynette tapped anxiously on the keyboard in front of her until a map appeared on her screen that included Mount Wilson. She saw that it was in the Cascades due east of Lyceum, and she immediately realized that no possible source of rescue was any closer than she was.
“...try the pass... losing altitude... nowhere to land... Mayday”
She made her computer highlight all airstrips on her map, and could tell that if they were anywhere near Mount Wilson, it was a long way to the nearest one whether they made it over the pass or turned back into eastern
Oregon.
She listened to the desperate voice for a few more seconds, and then decided. Her fingers punched at the keys, her display screen changed to a bright red, and she quickly filled in the urgently flashing questions and menu selections.
Brother Arnold, the mountain climber with whom Shawn had ridden on the last leg of his shuttle from South Carolina, rolled over in his bed in Fantasia Hall to find his computer screen flashing and screaming at him. He rubbed his eyes to see better, and was finally able to make out the words on the screen. Out of habit gained from years of search and rescue work, his pants, shirt, and boots were right beside his bed, and he was almost fully dressed by the time he had read everything on the screen.
Liberty had already been awake, and as soon as her screen had informed her that two helicopters had to be airborne immediately, she tapped on the keys to inform the computer that she was ready and able to carry out her usual task of pre-flight mechanical checks in Port One. Her long legs carried her swiftly toward the Heliport, and she could hear other feet running not far behind her. She wondered what the emergency was, but had no way to find out at that moment. She would ask after the bird in Port One was away.
Liberty was the first one on the pad, and as she had practiced in her pilot training classes, her job was to open the passenger and pilot’s doors, scan the cabin for anything unusual, and then jump back outside and start opening inspection panels and checking critical systems.
She had barely finished her cabin sweep when Brother Arnold and others started tossing bags of rescue gear in through the passenger door. They were obviously too busy to talk, so she focused her attention on the rotor linkage inspection hatch high up on the side of the helicopter.
“Emergency rotor start in thirty seconds unless you say otherwise!” Sister Erica yelled to Liberty as she ran for the pilot’s door.
Liberty’s mind raced. Visual inspection: everything in the hatch looked normal. Manual check: she tugged at the five critical linkages that should not have any play — they felt solid. Electronic: she pressed the diagnostics button
and watched the row of lights slowly change from red, to amber, to green. At that moment the twin jet engines roared to life, and she knew Erica was waiting for her word. She closed the inspection cover and quickly climbed down, flashing her teacher a thumbs up.
The rotor began to move, but Liberty still had three inspections to make.
She had never done them before with the rotor engaged. An instinct inside her told her to dash for cover, but with an effort of will she ignored it . I have plenty of time to finish my inspections before the rotor is up to speed. It’s just wind. I can do it.
She opened the first hatch. All of the hydraulic connections were tight and no leaks were evident. The pressure gauges looked good. She ran to the tail rotor and ripped open it’s hatch. Oil pressure was good, lights were green.
But to get to the last inspection point, she had to trudge through the rapidly increasing rotor wash, and it was threatening to knock her off her feet at any moment. She held onto the landing struts and pulled herself along, finally arriving at the helicopter’s nose.
Liberty pressed the diagnostic button and did a visual inspection of all the pilot’s control linkages while the electronics were doing their work. As soon as she had all green lights, she closed the hatch, stepped back a few feet so that Sister Erica could see her, and made the hand signal that meant all was ready for flight.
To Liberty’s surprise, the pilot pointed at her, and then pointed to the empty co-pilot’s seat.
Liberty felt unsure of herself, but saw that the gesture was repeated with redoubled urgency. With effort she forced herself through the swirling wind to the passenger door, which was still open a little, and Brother Kyle’s strong arms pulled her inside. The door was slid closed, and a moment later the huge bird was off the ground.
Liberty looked around her. Brenda was there, securing two big medical chests. Arnold and Kyle were starting to open duffel bags of ropes, ladders, and other rescue equipment.
“Come on up, Lib. I need help with radar, and maybe later with visual references,” Sister Erica said.
Liberty obeyed. As soon as she got into the co-pilot’s seat, she could see
that they were flying at full speed toward the Cascade Mountains. She pulled on her seat straps and activated the radar monitor in front of her. “Nothing on the screen.”
“Recalibrate and wide-scan,” the pilot said.
“Sounds like they made it over the pass between Mount Wilson and Pinhead Buttes,” Sister Lynette’s voice said. “They could either head for Table Rock or try to come down the Clackamas River gorge. Either direction, there’s nowhere to land for a long way. If they head west, you should be able to pick up their signal soon. They’re on 112.75 megahertz.”
“Anything on radar yet?” the pilot asked as she set her receiver to scan the indicated frequency.
Liberty checked. “Nothing. Who are we rescuing?”
Sister Erica was silent. She had to make a choice between telling Liberty now, which might leave her upset for the entire mission, and letting her find out at a more critical time, which might be even worse for Liberty’s ability to make clear decisions. She decided to gamble on her student’s ability to deal with her feelings quickly.
“Your father. And I need you calm, cool, and collected in one minute flat.”
Everything her father had told her about his expected arrival flashed into Liberty’s mind. Small private jet. Chinese diplomats. Please be okay, Daddy.
Please, if there is a God up there somewhere, please let my Daddy be okay.
And please help me to think clearly so I can help Sister Erica. She could feel herself shaking inside, and her stomach might as well have been in a trash compactor. I love you, Daddy. “I’ll be okay. I promise,” she said to her pilot and teacher.
“K375 to K378,” Erica called. “Seems to me we’re going to have to flip a coin, John Michael. I’m inclined to go in over Table Rock, but then if they’re heading down the Clackamas gorge, we’re going to have a hard time catching up with them.”
“Agreed. I’ll swing north of Round Mountain. How many people are on board?”
“Unknown,” Sister Lynette’s voice said. “At least three named V.I.P.s and one pilot. My guess is there’s a co-pilot and a couple of aides.”
“The Chinese always bring several secretaries, and usually their wives and
children too,” Liberty said.
“Based on what Liberty just told me, I’m guessing eight to fifteen, John Michael,” Sister Erica said.
“Ouch. It’s going to be tough getting them all out unless we’re both there.
I’ll be over Round Mountain in less than a minute.”
“We’re passing Table Rock now. Radar?”
“YES!” Liberty almost screamed. “Bearing eighty-six, elevation...
oscillating from zero to minus one.”
“Got that, John Michael?”
“I’m coming, but I don’t like their altitude one bit. They’re going to have trouble getting over Fish Creek Divide.”
“I just lost them!” Liberty said. She looked up, and could see that a high ridge marched north to south directly in front of them.
“Yeah. That was Fish Creek Divide. Unless they’ve got some reserve power, which I doubt, they’re going to have to take the river. Let’s just hope they head north, or they’re going to be in a dead-end canyon before we can get to them.”
“I’m cresting the Divide now,” John Michael’s voice said.
Liberty could see the thickly forested ridge sweeping by less than a hundred feet beneath them. A helicopter could find places to land on roads or in rock quarries, but not a fixed wing jet.
“I’m coming over too,” Erica said. “Eyes on radar, Liberty.”
“Bearing forty-three, elevation minus fourteen!”
“I have them visually,” John Michael said.
“Thank God they went north,” Erica said.
“This is rescue K378 to aircraft in distress,” they heard John Michael’s voice say. “What is your status?”
The first few words they heard spoken were in Chinese, but the pilot quickly corrected his mistake. “One engine only, oil losing. Please, where we can land?”
All of those in the two helicopters and at Lyceum knew that the few words the Chinese pilot had spoken, if accurate, had just sealed the fate of that aircraft. They knew that a jet engine losing oil pressure was not going to last for long, definitely not long enough to get them to the nearest airstrip, much
less to an airport with crash and rescue equipment. And if that engine gave out within the next few minutes, they were not even going to have the luxury of landing on a relatively flat field or pasture. They would still be in the canyon with nothing but steeply wooded slopes in every direction.
“Aircraft in distress, prepare for in-flight evacuation,” John Michael said from the other helicopter.
“I no understand.”
“John Michael, I have visual contact now,” Sister Erica said. “Let me talk to him.”
“Give it a try, Erica.”
“Pilot in distress, bring Senator Buchanan into the cockpit.”
“Okay,
we
bring.”
While they waited for the senator to get to the radio, precious seconds ticked by. John Michael’s bird was about thirty seconds ahead of Erica’s, and both were slowly catching up with the crippled jet, but much too slowly.
“You know what we need, Liberty,” Erica said. “I’m going to have to concentrate on flying.”
“This is Senator Buchanan. Can you hear me, rescue craft?”
“Daddy, this is Liberty. We’re going to get you out of there, but we need you to take charge of things on that end.”
“Okay, Honey. I’m sure glad to hear your voice, but I’d feel better if you were on the ground.”
“Thanks for the concern, Daddy, but we don’t have much time. There are no air fields you are going to get to in time. You have got to talk the pilot into slowing down to the lowest possible speed. Erica tells me that with full flaps you should be able to come down to about seventy knots.”
“I’m on it.”
During the silence that ensued, Erica and John Michael conferred. The lead helicopter was still two minutes behind the little jet at its present speed.
“He was reluctant, but I finally convinced him it was the only way. Our air speed should be dropping.”
“It is,” John Michael said. “I’ll be with you in less than a minute.”
“Now you have to get the front passenger door open and get everyone ready to use the rescue ladder, two at a time, arms through the loops.”
“I’ll do my best. It’s not going to be easy. We have five men, three women, and two children.”
“I’m almost on top of them,” John Michael said. “We’re deploying the ladder.”
Liberty and Erica could see the helicopter ahead of them descending to within feet of the small jet. Its one working engine was starting to smoke.
Suddenly the jet’s forward passenger door opened and was immediately torn off it’s hinges by the force of the wind. They could see the rescue ladder come down right across the open door until it was dangling well below the plane.
Then it clung to the side of the aircraft, just below the door.
“Successful attachment,” John Michael said.
“Come on, folks, let’s get on the ladder!” Erica said more to herself than anyone else.
Just then the canyon they were following curved sharply and the pilot was forced to bank.
“We’re passing the bend just downstream from Roaring River. Stay with them, John Michael,” Erica said.
And they saw that he did stay glued to the smoking aircraft, and as soon as the pilot had leveled out, the first pair of people grabbed the ladder. It looked like a man and a child. The helicopter began to pull the ladder slowly upward, the ladder sliding through its attachment brackets.
Another man and child grabbed the ladder just beneath the first ones, and then a man and a woman below them. The jet’s pilot and John Michael negotiated another curve in the canyon, but before they had leveled out, the jet’s remaining engine suddenly burst into flames.
The jet veered and the rescue ladder’s brackets were torn away from the doomed aircraft.
“Daddy!” Liberty screamed, knowing he was still in the jet.
“Clear out, John Michael. Let me get in there and get the last four.”
“You’ve got less than a minute, I figure. Good luck. I’ll meet you at the old scaling station.” He lifted his helicopter well clear of the powerless jet plane with six people clinging desperately to the rescue ladder.
“Daddy, another ladder is almost there. Get ready!”
“The pilot is doing everything he can, but the plane is starting to stall,” the
senator’s voice said.
“Get on the ladder, Daddy!”
“Ladder is there,” Brother Arnold yelled, “but the plane is bucking so much I don’t think it will attach.”
Then Liberty saw through the viewport at her feet that two people were on the ladder. But neither one was her father. Please, Daddy. Please get on the ladder. Erica raised the helicopter, and another hand reached out and grasped the ladder.
Suddenly the plane began to drop. Erica tried to stay with it, but was unable to get the ladder back to the door for more than a second. The river was curving again hundreds of feet below them, and a tree-covered ridge was directly in front of them. Erica knew how little control a pilot would have over a plane of that type when it stalled. She tried desperately to stay with the plane, but the ridge was approaching fast. With barely enough time left to stop the forward motion of her own rotary wing craft, she yanked back the stick.
Both those inside the helicopter and those still holding onto its rescue ladder watched helplessly as the small jet slammed into the tree-covered wall of the canyon. Sister Erica said a silent prayer of thanks that it hadn’t burst into flames, that the brave pilot had had the presence of mind to dump his fuel after the last engine failed.
They hovered for a moment, perhaps out of pure shock and horror at what had just happened, perhaps out of respect. Then Erica remembered that she still had people on her ladder, so she turned the helicopter and headed for the meeting place.
Liberty didn’t know if the third person had gotten onto the ladder. When they were hovering, the first pair was blocking her view, and now that they were moving, she could not see the ladder at all. She felt grief and horror rising up inside her, but she was determined to not let it take her, not there in the co-pilot’s seat, not before she knew for sure.
To hold down her fears, she focused on what Sister Erica was doing. She had just programmed in a new radio frequency.
“Emergency, calling anyone.”
“This is the Estacada Ranger Station. What is your emergency?” a stern
female voice said.
“I’m up here on Clackamas River Road doing some fishing, about a mile upstream from the Memaloose bridge, and I just saw a plane crash into the side of the mountain.”
“I’m dispatching a ranger. Please identify yourself. The Clackamas is closed to fishing this time of year.”
Sister Erica reached up and touched the fine-tuning control until she was half-way to the next channel. “Sorry, but I couldn’t hear you.” Then she cleared the frequency entirely.
A moment later they were slowly descending into the large parking area of an old log scaling station. Liberty could see the other helicopter ahead of them, its rotor already still, the six people it had rescued being helped inside by Brother Kenneth and others. Erica continued to slowly land, and the people on the rescue ladder let go as soon as they were on the ground and just laid there, not daring to try to stand up under the hurricane force of the rotor wash. A smile flashed onto Liberty’s face and the breath she had been holding was released when she saw that the person who had been lowest down on the ladder was her father.
Erica moved the bird several yards away from the three people on the ground and set it down. The rotor began to slow, but no one waited. The side door was slid open, Kyle and Arnold jumped out and Brenda handed them a medical kit, then jumped out herself. Liberty was not far behind.
Liberty ran past the others and was the first one to arrive at her father, who was just starting to pick himself up off the ground. “Daddy! Are you okay? Please be okay, Daddy!” she said in a voice close to both panic and tears.
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m okay,” he said and took her into his arms. “I’m shaking all over, and I just had the wildest ride of my life, but I’ll live.”
Sister Erica approached Liberty and her father. “Senator, I hate to cut this short, but rangers are on their way, and we need to decide if we should be here or not when they arrive. Was this an accident, or are we dealing with an attempt on your life?”
Senator Buchanan took a deep breath. In any other situation, a helicopter pilot would not be involved in such a decision. But these were Lyceum
members, he reminded himself, and this pilot had more brains than most of his Senate colleagues. His mind raced as he realized the political implications of what had just happened.
“There was a small explosion that took out the first engine. Then things started falling apart that had no connection to each other.”
“If someone wanted you dead, there are advantages to letting them think they succeeded,” she said.
The senator considered. If they thought he was dead, they might show their hand enough to reveal their identity. And he would be safe for awhile, especially if he secreted himself away in one of Lyceum’s hidden corners.
After what he had just experienced, he longed for that safety more than at any time he could remember.
“I think we should not be here when the rangers arrive.”
“Let’s go!” Erica shouted.
Half a minute later they were all securely inside the helicopters, the rescue ladders had been stowed, the doors closed, and the rotors were starting.
Sister Erica spoke with her fellow pilot over the radio.
“Let’s head up Fish Creek, over the ridge toward Wheelstone Mountain, and then around south of Table Rock.”
“Good plan,” Brother John Michael’s voice said. “But let’s take it slow and easy. My passengers are shook.”
“Good point. Mine too. “
The two rotary wing aircraft lifted off the ground at about the same moment, and Sister Erica led the way into a side canyon that headed south.
On the flight back to Lyceum, Liberty sat with her father while Brother Kyle took the co-pilot’s seat. Brenda tended to the needs of the two Chinese diplomatic aides, which mostly consisted of lotion on minor scratches, blankets, and cups of warm herb tea. Brother Arnold carefully inspected and coiled the rescue ladder, and bagged all the equipment they had used.
“Sorry about calling you by the wrong name a couple of times back there, Nancy,” Sister Erica said after they had cleared the canyon and were crossing the divide toward the Molalla River.
“That’s okay. I’m not sure I could have remembered either one for a while there.”
Senator Buchanan was very quiet and thoughtful on the Helicopter flight to Lyceum. Not many weeks before he had experienced the attempted murder of his daughter, his only child. Now, all evidence suggested, he had just survived an attempt on his own life, and the perpetrator had been willing to also kill nine innocent people and create an international incident to accomplish his goal. And even though he himself had survived, the pilot had died, probably still in his cockpit seat trying desperately to control his doomed airplane.
And he was glad Sister Erica had been thinking quickly and clearly back at the log scaling station. Now he had the option of letting the perpetrators think they had succeeded. He could sit back at Lyceum, watch the broadcast coverage of Congress, get in touch with a couple of highly trusted friends in Washington, and see who was most overjoyed that the senator from Pennsylvania appeared to be deceased.
But then he realized there were some problems with his plan. There were many people who would be glad the congressional leader of the treaty ratification process was out of action, even though they wouldn’t actually wish him dead or have anything to do with a murder attempt. And in a few days the rangers would be announcing to the media that they had found only one body in the wreckage. With ten people known to have been on board, that would be too few to convince the perpetrators that they had succeeded, even if he stayed out of sight. Still, it might be long enough to allow him to glean some information from the situation.
A large part of his mind was telling him to protect his daughter and himself at all cost. But every time he paused to realize what that would necessitate, completely abandoning his efforts on the Nuclear Disarmament Treaty, he stopped himself, thinking of the millions, possibly billions who would die if a war was ever fought with nuclear weapons. Maybe, he began to think, this was why he was alive, and why he had become a U.S. senator.
Maybe, he even admitted to himself, this was also why his daughter was alive.
It was almost six in the morning when they finally landed back in the safety of the Lyceum Heliport. All of the Chinese diplomats, along with their
families and aides, were extremely gracious, thanking their pilots and crews, and the members who assisted them in the Heliport. From there, members who spoke Chinese showed them to Lodge rooms, and returned for them after they had rested and cleaned-up, escorting them to the Garden Dining Room for a late but elegant breakfast.
By the time they had landed at Lyceum and the Chinese diplomatic team had been guided toward the Lodge, Senator Buchanan had decided. “I think I’d like to hang around for awhile, if you and Lyceum don’t mind.”
“Daddy, you are welcome here any time!”
“Can you arrange for all your members to know that my presence here should be kept secret?”
“No problem! We do it all the time for kings and bishops and people like that who want a vacation. I’ll take care of it right away.”
“But I’d rather not use a hermitage cabin this time. I’d rather be... closer to you. I’m not sure how much longer... either of us is going to be alive,” he said, looking at his daughter with eyes that weren’t entirely dry.
Liberty wrapped her arms around her father. “I love you, Daddy. We’re going to be okay. But I’ve been thinking, ever since... you know... they tried to kill me. Things as big and important as the Nuclear Disarmament Treaty don’t become reality without sacrifices. Two people died here, and one in that jet, and Ashley and Sarah have scars. If I have to lose for the Treaty to win...
I’ll be able to handle it.”
A tremendous wave of pride filled the senator. “You are a very brave girl, Liberty.”
“Nancy.”
“Um... right. I’m going to do everything I can to get the treaty passed, and I’m going to try to stay alive and keep you alive in the process. I’m very glad you’re here at Lyceum. It would be much harder to protect you at a school or at the country house.
“You know,” Liberty said, looking at him, “there are several empty apartments in my residence hall. You could stay in one of them while you’re here, and you wouldn’t have to go out into public areas unless you wanted to.”
“That sounds very nice, but don’t you have to check with someone in charge before you make promises like that?”
“Daddy, sometimes you seem to fit in so well here that I forget you’re not a member, and at other times you don’t seem to understand Lyceum at all!”
He smiled, and his daughter grabbed his hand and yanked him in the direction of the residence halls.
Late that afternoon, the two Chinese diplomats approached the Main Office and stepped up to the counter where Sister Carolyn was helping people.
“May we please arrange to speak with an executive officer?” one of them asked respectfully.
Sister Carolyn knew that she had as much authority to handle their needs or complaints as anyone else, but she also knew that most people in the world were not used to such organizational structures, especially those from traditional cultures. She knew just who they would feel comfortable talking to.
“Yes, I can get someone for you.” She queried her computer, and within moments knew where the intended person was and how soon he could get to the office. “May I show you to a conference room?”
“Thank
you.”
Sister Carolyn led them to a small but pleasantly decorated room with comfortable chairs and couches, and by the time she had made them cups of tea, Brother Li stepped into the room.
“Greetings, gentlemen. How may I serve you?”
Sister Carolyn finished placing napkins beside each of their cups and stepped out the door, pulling it closed behind her.
“It is we, and our wives, children, and aides, who should be asking that question. We are deeply in your debt, even though we mourn our pilot who died valiantly.”
“We mourn with you. I saw Sister Erica at prayer today, and I know she feels badly that she could not rescue your pilot also.”
“We do not hold her at fault. My aides who flew in her helicopter tell me they have never seen such skilled piloting before. I say the same about the pilot in our helicopter.”
“Brother John Michael.”
“Yes. Please convey our deep thanks to both of them. We owe them our
lives.”
“I accept your gratitude, on their behalf. I also realize that the possibility exists that your plane was sabotaged by some political faction of this country in order to attempt to kill Senator Buchanan. For this possibility, I am ashamed, and I am in your debt for the loss of your pilot, and your aircraft, and for all the distress and inconvenience you have experienced.”
The two diplomats looked at each other for a moment. “We appreciate your shame, but we release you from any debt you feel. Your country is wide and diverse, and you cannot be responsible for the actions of all your people.”
“Thank you, but we would he honored if we could at least provide for all your needs for as long as you can stay, and then provide transportation for your entire party back to Beijing. We have studied the matter, and believe it would be safest for Senator Buchanan if you would allow us to convey you to Vancouver, British Columbia in one of our helicopters, from where several different airlines are available to convey you home. We request this course of action, but we will respect and facilitate whatever course you choose.”
“We would be happy to help Senator Buchanan by taking the course of action you suggest.”
“Thank you. I wish to show you a very special place, a part of our Hall of Shrines that I believe you will find comforting. And after that, I beg your company for dinner, at any fine restaurant you wish.”
“We would be most honored,” the diplomat said, bowing his head in recognition of the wisdom and graciousness Brother Li was showing them. “Is there a restaurant somewhere in the Portland area that serves pizza?”
Brother
Li
smiled.
The Chinese diplomatic team stayed at Lyceum for two more days, honoring their deceased pilot in the sections of the Hall of Shrines devoted to Confucianism and Taoism. None of them had ever been to Lyceum before, and they were constantly amazed and delighted by the treatment they received and the service they saw provided to others, from world leaders to children from Portland’s poor north side. As they prepared to depart, they left donations from their personal funds, and promised to try to return soon, and to recommend Lyceum to others in their government who were passing
through the Pacific Northwest.
Both Liberty and her father asked to be able to accompany the team to British Columbia. It was their way of honoring the pilot who had died when the real target had been, most probably, the senator. They carried luggage, poured drinks, and helped to entertain the children. Sister Erica piloted, sharing in their guilt in a slightly different way, going over and over in her mind what she could have done differently that would have resulted in everyone coming out alive.
They all shared a last meal at Vancouver International Airport, Sister Erica took care of their tickets, and they waved good-bye to the departing diplomatic team. They felt they had made some new friends, and only wished it hadn’t required so much death and destruction to accomplish.
The following morning at Lyceum, Senator Buchanan found his daughter in a leotard and tights, stretching and warming-up.
“Well, well! What a beautiful young lady I helped bring into the world!
You’re not going to try to stand in for Ashley at the Olympics next year, are you?”
“That would be impossible, Daddy!” she said with a slightly embarrassed smile. “I have my own training to do, and my teacher is expecting me in about five minutes. I have a lot of work to do, as I haven’t done much dancing in two whole years!”
“So where’s your first performance going to be?” he asked, mostly in jest.
“New York,” she said with complete earnestness.
He looked confused.
“You’ll
see,
Daddy!”