Two angels quickly flew toward Professor Tur’s moon-based ob-
servatory. Stopping just outside the artificial atmospheric bar-
rier, they glanced around, nodded to each other, and then stepped
through the barrier. Again, they scanned their surroundings.
Removing equipment packs from their chests (for unlike hu-
mans, who carry packs on their backs, angels must carry packs in
front to free their wings for flight), they began sparkling with a
greenish-blue tint. Their falcon-like wings retracted. The two now
appeared as humans: without wings, dressed in short sleeves and
jeans.
“I am wondering, Tom. We cannot be telling anyone about
this, can we?” Halak, the taller angel, asked in his singsong voice.
His light-brown skin and short black hair punctuated the broad
smile of a twenty-year-old man enjoying life.
“You know our orders.” Tom referenced the instructions as he
gathered his pack. “Top secret.” Although Tom was in charge, his
unmanageable hair and angular features made him appear only sev-
enteen. “How long will it take to file this?”
“I am supposing that if I am allowed to have Lat’s help, we can
complete the task in twenty minutes.”
Tom confirmed the suggestion with a nod
Again they surveyed the area.
Shouldering their packs, they embarked toward the building: a
fifteen-minute hike.
Halak broke the silence. “I am still wondering. This will be
catching everyone off guard. They could be missing the entire
event, and then all we have worked so hard for would be happen-
ing without us.”
“I know,” Tom said. “Nevertheless, we must keep strict silence.
We cannot tell anyone. Orders are orders. Send the report. Keep
silent and wait.”
They made their way toward the observatory’s curved wall.
Lined with benches, it was a perfect place for solitary contempla-
tion.
Lowering the cameras and other supplies from their backs, they
glanced around. No one else was outside.
They dusted each other’s clothing.
Halak shouldered both packs. “So,” he said, “I am still wonder-
ing how it is that you are going to sound the alarm.”
“Haven’t a clue,” Tom admitted as he smoothed Halak’s collar.
He gave Halak the thumbs-up. “Twenty minutes. Let Shimmur
help, also.”
“Fifteen minutes, with the helping of Lat and Shimmur,” Hal-
ak said as he peered around the corner. “I am seeing no one in the
vicinity. It is looking like the path is being clear.” Halak straight-
ened to his five-foot-six-inch height and strode toward the building
with the air of a seasoned soldier. He entered the main door as if
nothing was happening. Walking past the vacant reception desk, he
turned into the office on the right.
Tom sat on a bench admiring the moonscape.
He looked up at the emerald planet. Only one-eighth of the
planet reflected light from that lone star to the left. Only one-
eighth glowed with various shades of green—the rest was dark.
In those days, Earth had no large oceans or tall mountains.
Instead, lush vegetation covered the entire planet from valley to
low hill. Small seas dotting her face accented her glorious features.
With little or no topography, her surface looked as smooth as a
large pearl.
Tom wiped his moist eyes and waited a long minute. Scanning
the moonscape, he confirmed he was alone. No one else could see
the day’s moonscape. No one else knew how soon something—
anything—was about to happen.
He stood, dusted his clothing, and approached the entrance.
The echoes of the large doors squealed as Tom pulled them
open. Oil would help, but then there was no need—not anymore.
This last operation had completed the series of missions. Soon the
waiting would be over.
The lobby was empty. “Why was there a reception desk?” Tom
quietly mumbled to himself. “No one ever sat at it. After all, no
one ever came to visit.”
Tom headed directly toward the open stairway beyond the desk
and quietly began his ascent.
* * *
Hundreds of off-duty angels filled the noisy dayroom, sitting
at tables reading papers, laughing, talking, and playing games. A
few dozed in chairs. A quick observation revealed these were clearly
social creatures.
Tom took a deep breath, then completed that final step to the
third-floor lounge.
“There you are, Tom!” The excited voice of an elderly figure
came from far across the room, piercing the drone of aimless chat-
ter. Wearing a brown tweed sport jacket and faded blue jeans, the
jolly manlike creature scurried toward Tom with a slight waddle.
“Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Tom glanced around, but no one was paying attention. A smile
came across his face, “Oh. Hiya, Professor.” He waved nonchalant-
ly. “What’s up?”
Professor Tur’s salt-and-pepper hair accented his disposition.
He gave Tom a friendly poke in the ribs. “Special assignment,” he
whispered with a sly grin.
Tom winced, stumbling back a step.
The professor’s smile widened with excitement. Pulling a voice
recorder from his pocket, he explained, “I’ve been asked to write
an article summarizing our observations here on the moon.” He
grinned. “I’m recording it in case I happen to say something worth
repeating.”
Tom watched the professor place the device back into his pock-
et. “You have a special assignment.” Tom smiled wiping his brow.
“Sure.” He again elbowed Tom in the ribs. “I was hoping you
could help.” The professor turned, motioning to the empty couch
in the far corner.
Tom exhaled deeply. “Give me a moment, Professor. Then you
can tell me what you have so far.”
Tom looked around.
In the far corner, a couch and matching chairs faced the en-
tertainment screen, where residents could watch special reports or
other programs transmitted from other galaxies. Behind him, at
the opposite end of the lounge, was the food service area. Tables
and chairs, sofas, and benches filled the cafeteria/lounge, providing
varying comforts to the many coworkers. On the right, a door led
to the sleeping quarters. On the left, bookshelves partially blocked
windows overlooking the observatory’s Situation Room—or “Sit
Room,” as they called it. Above the entire length of the lounge was
a skylight. It allowed direct viewing of the heavens and a perfect
view of that spectacular emerald sphere floating overhead.
Tom followed the professor, then reclined on the couch. “Okay,
Professor. I’m ready.”
The professor cleared his throat
Next page: From Chapter Two