What Feats He Did That Day Pt. 05

My flying backward emboldened the Morling. His mouth widened into what his fellow Morlings probably took to be a smile. To me it just looked like a way for him to drool more.

His whip lashed out again but I was just out of range. He took a plodding step after me and struck at me again. As I ducked to the right, I realized that he was fighting the last fight he had had against a human. The human retreated, the Morling followed, and victory was his.

Not this time, Charlie. I retreated a little more and he chased me. Then I suddenly sent the chair forward at its highest speed, aiming just to the left of his chest. Before he could react, I had passed flown his upper and lower arms. I turned as I flew by, judged the distance, and snapped my light whip. I heard his bellow and the roar of the crowd before I noticed his lower right arm lying on the ground. I had severed it at the equivalent of the elbow.

It hadn't been a bellow of pain, though, but one of rage. Evidently these Morlings didn't injure easily. That would be a problem. Another problem would be the ease with which he retrieved his whip. He reached down with his lower left hand and grabbed the cylinder that had fallen to the ground. The fucker was ambidextrous.

I was stunned to learn that, so stunned that his next attack caught me unprepared. He cracked his whip as he turned around. I rolled to the side but not anywhere near in time. The tip of the whip grazed my upper left arm, tearing open a piece of the skin.

The crowd gasped and I was could see, out of the corner of my eyes, that they had leapt to their feat. The pain was nearly unbearable and I was sure that when I looked down I would find the arm bloody and mangled. But the cut was neat and virtually bloodless. The whip had apparently cauterized all of the blood vessels that it had severed.

The Morling completed his turn and opened his remaining three arms wide as he roared at me. I decided that it was time to implement our plan. I retreated again as I circled the whip around my head. When I judged the distance right, I brought it straight down toward the ground.

My timing was perfect. I clicked off the light flow at the precise instant needed to send the rope hurtling toward the Morling. My aim was perfect. It flew straight toward his face, a 10-foot snake of writhing light.

But my luck had run out. The Morling had taken another step toward me and had stumbled over his own arm lying on the floor of the arena. He nearly went down to his knees; it was low enough, at any rate, to allow the light rope to sail harmlessly over his head. He staggered forward and once again I learned that I had been too slow to react. As the whip rushed toward me from overhead, I turned a somersault to the right.

This time, he had taken that into account. I heard a sickening scream of metal as the whip sliced through the bottom of my chair. I lost power immediately and began tumbling toward the ground. The crowd gasped again. And as I saw the ground rising to meet me, I held out my hands in a futile attempt to brace my fall. The last thing I remember thinking was that a mirror on the bottom of the chair would have been a very handy thing to have.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I was probably unconscious for no more than a minute. It was long enough for the Morling to move astride me, standing there and beating his chest as if he had just slain a dragon. I was aware that my left arm was broken. It had evidently taken all my weight along with that of the flychair. The flychair now pinned me to the ground. My right arm, which still gripped the still functioning light whip, appeared to be undamaged.

I pushed the thumb control forward as the Morling began his usual victory oration. His head was directly above my own, so that as he spoke, he showered me with his hideous spittle.

"Finally," he said, "a worthy foe. I congratulate you, Earthers, for finally selecting a true competitor. I honor this human."

He paused, evidently looking around the arena to share his triumph.

"He has lasted longer against a Morling than any being in known space."

That was small consolation, in my view. I tested my left arm. It hurt like hell, but the fracture wasn't compound. Blinking through the agony, I felt myself lifting the chair up off me. I was never going to be able to push it off all the way; my hope was to simply gain enough room to let me roll over.

"The story of his death will be told on planets across the galaxy."

Also very kind of him. I turned my body to the right, hoping to roll onto my back. At the same time, I could feel the closeness of his hand. He entwined what passed for fingers in my hair. He pulled me even closer to him. Perfect, I thought. Just let him hold me up for another second or two.

"I shall mount his head upon my wall of honor."

The hell you will. I whipped my right hand, along with the whip, beneath my body. The whip followed. As I twisted myself in his grip, I sent the whip toward his head, my one last chance to snatch victory from the hideous tusked jaws of planetary defeat.

I had miscalculated. As usual. The whip was far too long to pick up any speed. It was far too long to do any damage. He made no effort to get out of its way. He just stood there, his head no more than ten feet above mine, his greenish saliva dripping into my face and eyes, and let the light rope coil around his neck -- once, twice, and then a third time.

The Morling caught me in his gaze and raised his light whip above his head to deliver my death blow. He sneered at me. I smiled at him. Then I flicked my wrist to try to free the whip from his neck. I felt it tighten around his neck more than I saw it. What I did see, quite clearly, was his head separate from his body and fall toward me. Followed, very quickly, by the rest of his body.

**********

I woke up in a room that I had never seen before. I was lying in an extraordinarily comfortable bed. That alone suggested I was no longer in the future. Wizen's bed had been cold and metallic. This was soft and plush. The rest of the room was equally plush. The walls were a painted a rich red. The floor was carpeted -- carpeted! -- with what appeared to be a thick blue pile. There were two ornate oak doors, one at each end of the room.

For a minute I entertained the idea that perhaps I had died, and that heaven was actually a bordello. Sweet. But then I glanced to the corner and saw my flychair. I hadn't died after all. I summoned the flychair and was quite surprised to find myself completely free of pain. My left arm felt weak but moved freely. Even the tear on my shoulder had been repaired.

As I climbed into the chair, one of the doors opened. She walked in with a radiant smile that I had also never seen before

"Francesca!"

"Rick," she said. "The physicians tell me your recovery is complete."

"The arm?" I asked. I waved it in the air.

"It will take a while for the muscles to recover," she said. Then she grew serious. "We tried to repair your legs but the atrophy was far too great. Apparently our drugs only work on a more recent injury. I am sorry, Rick."

"I'd already bargained that away, Francesca. Apparently I'm an even better negotiator than I knew."

"But the rest is fine, "she continued. "The broken jaw, the shattered cheekbones, the broken femur, the ruptured spleen."

"Shit," I said. "I thought I'd done pretty well."

"You did most wonderfully well, Rick Handley." Francesca practically glowed with happiness. "The Morlings have kept their word and departed. You are healed and well enough to joke with us. Please accept my humblest thanks for the service that you have done us."

"Eh," I said, waving a hand at her. "It was nothing, ma'am."

"It was very much indeed, Rick. It has been decided that when you were healed, you would be greeted by twenty-six virgins."

She clapped her hands and a parade of girls, each more beautiful than the next, began to stream out of the door she had left open when she entered. I met Alessa, Branay, and Caskie. I met Karrsten, Lessar, and Minkala. I met Weslin, Xandra, and Yassmin. They filed past me. The first three shyly shook my hand. The next girl, Dmeter, was slightly braver and kissed my cheek. After Natal, they turned into full mouth kisses. By the time Trenya pushed her tongue between my closed lips, I was completely unaware of anything else. When I was finally able to look up, I was a little surprised to see Francesca ushering Zarras back out of the room through the other door.

"That was it?" I said. "Just a greeting?"

"You expected more?" Francesca asked, once again filling the room with that musical laugh. "You are a greedy man, Rick Handley."

"I am," I admitted. "Plus I was shorted."

"Shorted?" she asked.

"There were only twenty-five," I said. I looked toward the open door, waiting for the final virgin.

"You counted?" She laughed again.

"Well, no," I answered, still looking toward the door. "They showed up in groups of five. Five groups, five each, all alphabetical."

"And which letter did you miss?" she asked.

It took me a minute to figure it out.

"F," I said slowly.

I turned to look just in time to see Francesca drop her gown to the floor behind her. She stood there, her blonde hair framing a face that I could not believe I ever thought unattractive. She was beautiful. Her body was perfect, from the smallish cherry-tipped breasts to the long, exquisitely muscled legs.

There was only one thing lacking: confidence. There was a look on her face that I was used to seeing only in a mirror. The last three women whom I had "dated" -- Parker, Angie, and Shawn -- had confidence in abundance. They knew exactly what effect they had on men.

Francesca simply had no idea. As I paused to drink in her beauty, I became aware of a doubt flashing across her face. And I still couldn't bring myself to speak.

"No?" she whispered. A tear formed in the corner of one of her eyes.

I held out my arms to her.

"Most definitely yes," I said.

She ran across the room to me.

"Are you sure," I asked as she came to a halt in front of me, "that you don't want to save this for a man you --"

She quieted me with a finger across my lips.

"I have saved it for a man I will love forever," she said.

I looked up at her and opened my mouth. I slowly sucked her finger between my lips and watched in awe as she closed her eyes and trembled.

I put my arms around her waist and pulled her to me. She tumbled into my lap and began to kiss me with passionate hunger. I kissed her back, with the profound gratitude I felt for the gift she was giving me, and with the sheer raw joy I felt to still be alive.

We were an odd couple: a virgin in her late twenties who had no clue what to do; and a paraplegic whose only sexual technique involved the use of an arm that didn't quite function properly. We spent the night laughing, crying, teasing, touching, and ultimately loving. By the end of the evening, we fit together perfectly. It was the most special night of my life. Our parting the next morning was far more bitter than it was sweet.

**********

"So how'd that saving the planet thing go?" Alison asked when she arrived at work on Monday morning. Her tone was just what I needed to bring me down to Earth.

"Just fine," I said with a shrug. I rapped my hand on the desk of my cubicle. "Knock on simulated wood veneer nothing else happens while I'm gone. How were the prospective in-laws?"

"Not quite as far away as I'd like them," she answered. "I suppose it's normal to have doubts about getting married, isn't it?"

"Sure," I said. It occurred to me that they didn't usually follow this closely behind the engagement but it wasn't my place to say that. Allie was smart. Smart enough to trust her heart.

We chatted about this and that for another half hour before I had to leave for the week's first press conference. As everyone had expected, Betsy Day would not be returning to her job. Krissy introduced her replacement and invited me to ask the first question, wholly unaware of the irony of her suggestion.

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job, Ms. Dalrymple," I said in lieu of a real question.

"Please, Mr. Handley. Call me Suzanne."

A mocking "oooh" drifted forward from the back of the room.

"Don't mind them, Suzanne," I said, raising my voice above the din. "They're a very jealous bunch."

"I'll keep that in mind," Suzanne said. Her eyes were dancing. "Does anybody have any actual questions?"

There were a few questions. There would always be a few questions. They were innocuous. They produced innocuous answers. It would be that way for the next year.

In fact, the next year turned out to be an incredibly boring time to be on the statehouse beat. Our new governor was almost too good to be true: ethical, competent, inspirational, empathetic. And on and on. We spent a few months trying to prove that it wasn't true, but in the end we all gave up. The state had gotten very lucky.

I won a couple of newspaper awards, although the Pulitzer eluded me. I tried to turn the ones I did get into jobs with bigger newspapers in Pittsburgh and Cleveland. I made it to the interview stage both times.

I did date during the year. I even dated Suzanne, but we had too much history together.

I made love a few times. I even had a "relationship." She dumped me in the spring. She said she needed more adventure in her life. It wasn't me, of course; it was her.

So I didn't have a date for Alison and Eric's wedding. I was one of Eric's groomsmen -- a bargain for making Eric's sister one of Allie's bridesmaids. Allie had gone back and forth with her doubts. In the end, though, she had decided that she loved Eric and that she wanted nothing more than to be his wife. I supported her as best I could.

The wedding was lovely. Aren't they always. Angie was her sister's maid of honor. She brought a boyfriend who wasn't Brad Pitt but who was pretty damn close. Still, she did me the honor of a turn on the dance floor while she sat in my lap on the wheelchair. I danced with Alison. I danced with Rachel. Rachel even invited me out afterward for a drink. I declined. Rachel was a beautiful woman, but I had come to realize over the past year that none of the women I had met were "it." Maybe that was why I had only had the one relationship.

Sam was waiting to pick me up when the wedding ended. He drove me back to my apartment. I wheeled myself over to the couch and just sat there in my tuxedo and bow tie.

"Bring me back, Mr. Wizard," I murmured. "Back to the future."

I closed my eyes and smiled. Another movie. I really had to start reading more books.

I felt a change in the air and blinked my eyes open. I was lying on Wizen's bed again. The room was quiet, except for the hum of the machinery that Wizen had built to transport me through time. Neither he nor Francesca was around. But there in the corner was my flychair. It came when I summoned it as if it had only been a day since I had left and not a year.

After I found nobody at home, I flew into the corridor. I met a man almost immediately. He was wearing a particularly fine robe of pale blue. His friendly brown eyes found mine almost immediately.

"Rick Handley," he said in an astonished tone. He thrust his hand toward me. "I am Petrous. It is an honor to meet you."

"Hi," I muttered. I was equally astonished. No one had even been honored to meet me. No one had ever offered to shake my hand in this era. It felt strange.

"You are puzzled by the handshake," he said.

"Yes," I answered. I nearly jerked my hand back. A mind reader?

"Ever since your speech I have devoted myself to the study of history. It is fascinating. I have done my best to revive this custom. Thank you so much."

"Uh, sure," I said. "No problem."

"It was a year ago today, was it not? Your victory over the Morling?"

I thought for a moment. It was indeed exactly a year.

"You have come for the ceremony, I do not doubt," he continued. "They will be pleased."

I followed him down the corridors to a large room. He found a seat and I hovered at the back.

I found a hard lump in my throat when I finally realized what it was. Francesca stood at the front in a robe of pure white. Wizen stood next to her and next to him was a kindly looking man with his arm raised as if in blessing. On his other side were three people: two men and a woman.

Francesca held something in her arms. I heard a cry and she lowered her head to look and whisper. It was a baby. This was a christening. One of the men must be her husband. Perhaps the beautiful young man with whom she would have been licensed to have two children waited for her all this time. That would make the other couple the child's godparents. I found myself trembling but it was too late to leave now.

"And the name?" the man in the middle, now quite obviously the priest, asked Francesca.

"Rick," she said. "Rick Handley."

There was a murmur of approval. The priest smiled. I couldn't help but smile myself. Naming their son Rick Handley Whatever was a very nice thing to do.

"Then I name thee --" He paused. "No middle name? Petrous tells us that the custom was to have three names."

Francesca turned to her father with a look of despair.

"I don't know," she said. "Father, I don't know his middle name."

With a start, I realized that she was talking about me. She wanted to know my middle name. Handley wasn't going to be his middle name. It was going to be his last name. I found myself unable to breathe. This was my son.

From deep within me, I summoned the strength to command the wheelchair to rise. I cleared my throat and spoke.

"My middle name is Fort," I said.

The entire gathering turned, their faces stunned.

"It's a family name," I explained. "But I would be honored if he could have Wizen as his middle name."

"Rick!"

As carefully as she could, Francesca thrust the child into her stunned father's arms and took at a dead run toward me. Only the anti-gravity device in the chair prevented us from both from tumbling backward as she jumped into my lap and began kissing me. I kissed her back, although perhaps without the same passion.

"Is something wrong?" she finally asked.

"Not at all," I said with a smile. "May I meet your husband?"

"My what?"

"Your husband. The beautiful young man you married."

I gestured toward the front of the room. She looked and then burst out laughing.

"Rick Handley," she said. "Did I not say I would love you forever?"

"Well, yes."

"Those are my friends. Our child's two godfathers. We thought it best since his real . . ."

She began to cry.

"Since his real father was lost in the past."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked. "Why didn't your father summon me?"

"My father has never summoned you, Rick. He merely created the channel by which you came. It has always been your choice."

By then Wizen had joined us in the back of the room. He cradled our son in his arms.

"We left the channel open after you returned home," he said. "In case you wanted to visit."

"But the power," I said. "You said it took an enormous amount of power."

"We persuaded Council to adopt our suggestion. We -- what is the expression? -- petitioned them for the redress of our grievances."

I smiled and buried my head for a moment in my darling's shoulder. It was another minute before I could speak again.

"Forever?" I asked softly.

"For all time," Wizen said. "So you may come and go as you please."

"Thank you, my friend."

Wizen accepted an old-fashioned handshake. Then he handed me my son.

"You will stay?" Francesca asked. "For a while?"

"I will stay," I said. "Take my place at the christening. Play with my son. Probably fall in love."

I raised an eyebrow at Francesca to see the tears rimming her eyes and the smile on her face grow even larger.