to fly everyone to the site, but he’d chosen the long drive, thinking that maybe they could get to know each other before they finally arrived at their destination.
It seemed to be working, and all of them appeared to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. So was he, for that matter. He hadn’t expected to, not when the culmination of so many hopes, of so many years of planning and working on this project, was this close, when twenty years’ of struggle, of successes and failures were all coming to a conclusion.
One that could go so terribly wrong. All that effort, that time, money, and literal sweat and tears coming down to the next few days—to contacting Zianne and her people.
Yes, he’d told them six months, and he expected them to remain at the site, taking that time to help acclimate the Nyrians to this new world once they were rescued, but he’d know in a matter of days whether or not their effort would succeed.
Would they be able to project enough sexual energy to bring the Nyrians to Earth? To free them from slavery and give them the corporeal bodies they’d need to survive on this world?
Zianne had explained how she’d traveled through time when she visited him in 1992. She’d given him enough information to go on that he had a fairly good idea what the corresponding date for her time had been that last morning she’d left his bed.
Even though the two of them had prepared for such a horrible event, he’d never dreamed she wouldn’t return. It had taken days of watching for her before he fully accepted the fact that she wasn’t coming back. But he’d feared it could happen, and weeks before Zianne disappeared, he’d already put a plan into action.
He’d put a down payment on a large tract of land in the isolated, high desert country of northeastern California, in an area where he knew he could build the transmitters and antennae he’d need to contact the Nyrians and bring them to Earth. Then he had worked on the programs, pushed the industry to improve the technology by leaps and bounds. All of it on a very precise schedule, readying himself for this moment in time.
The only moment they might have to save Zianne and her people. They were cutting it close, but he’d timed it this way on purpose—and if his calculations were right, Zianne should be arriving at her ship within the next twenty-four hours or so after leaving his bed in 1992.
He had no idea what had happened to her, but somehow the Gar had found out she’d been leaving. He didn’t think they would kill her—from what she’d told him, there were too few Nyrians left to power their ship to put any to death. He had to believe she was still alive, that she would remain alive.
As connected as they’d been, wouldn’t he know if she ceased to exist? If he was too late, if this didn’t work ... no. He couldn’t allow himself to think of failure. How could any man survive, knowing he’d doomed an entire race of people to slavery and death? Knowing he might be responsible for his own world’s end, if the Gar were truly as powerful as Zianne believed.
He wanted to feel excited about finally putting all his plans into action. Wanted to feel more hopeful than he did, but instead he was aware of an almost smothering sense of dread when he allowed himself to think of how slim his chances were of finally pulling this off.
He’d explained his fears to Dink, how he almost felt as if it was better to be working toward the ultimate goal he’d carried for the past twenty years than to actually put it into action—and discover he’d failed.
Dink had set him straight. Failure isn’t an option. It’s not just Zianne we’re talking about—it’s the potential damage the Gar can do to our world. We’re talking Earth’s future. This isn’t just about the woman you love. You’ve always seen the whole picture. See it here, Mac. He’d paused then, wiped his hand over his eyes as if the concept of failure was too much to consider.
Then
It seemed to be working, and all of them appeared to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. So was he, for that matter. He hadn’t expected to, not when the culmination of so many hopes, of so many years of planning and working on this project, was this close, when twenty years’ of struggle, of successes and failures were all coming to a conclusion.
One that could go so terribly wrong. All that effort, that time, money, and literal sweat and tears coming down to the next few days—to contacting Zianne and her people.
Yes, he’d told them six months, and he expected them to remain at the site, taking that time to help acclimate the Nyrians to this new world once they were rescued, but he’d know in a matter of days whether or not their effort would succeed.
Would they be able to project enough sexual energy to bring the Nyrians to Earth? To free them from slavery and give them the corporeal bodies they’d need to survive on this world?
Zianne had explained how she’d traveled through time when she visited him in 1992. She’d given him enough information to go on that he had a fairly good idea what the corresponding date for her time had been that last morning she’d left his bed.
Even though the two of them had prepared for such a horrible event, he’d never dreamed she wouldn’t return. It had taken days of watching for her before he fully accepted the fact that she wasn’t coming back. But he’d feared it could happen, and weeks before Zianne disappeared, he’d already put a plan into action.
He’d put a down payment on a large tract of land in the isolated, high desert country of northeastern California, in an area where he knew he could build the transmitters and antennae he’d need to contact the Nyrians and bring them to Earth. Then he had worked on the programs, pushed the industry to improve the technology by leaps and bounds. All of it on a very precise schedule, readying himself for this moment in time.
The only moment they might have to save Zianne and her people. They were cutting it close, but he’d timed it this way on purpose—and if his calculations were right, Zianne should be arriving at her ship within the next twenty-four hours or so after leaving his bed in 1992.
He had no idea what had happened to her, but somehow the Gar had found out she’d been leaving. He didn’t think they would kill her—from what she’d told him, there were too few Nyrians left to power their ship to put any to death. He had to believe she was still alive, that she would remain alive.
As connected as they’d been, wouldn’t he know if she ceased to exist? If he was too late, if this didn’t work ... no. He couldn’t allow himself to think of failure. How could any man survive, knowing he’d doomed an entire race of people to slavery and death? Knowing he might be responsible for his own world’s end, if the Gar were truly as powerful as Zianne believed.
He wanted to feel excited about finally putting all his plans into action. Wanted to feel more hopeful than he did, but instead he was aware of an almost smothering sense of dread when he allowed himself to think of how slim his chances were of finally pulling this off.
He’d explained his fears to Dink, how he almost felt as if it was better to be working toward the ultimate goal he’d carried for the past twenty years than to actually put it into action—and discover he’d failed.
Dink had set him straight. Failure isn’t an option. It’s not just Zianne we’re talking about—it’s the potential damage the Gar can do to our world. We’re talking Earth’s future. This isn’t just about the woman you love. You’ve always seen the whole picture. See it here, Mac. He’d paused then, wiped his hand over his eyes as if the concept of failure was too much to consider.
Then
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