HeartStorm

Chapter One

Chapter

One

Homecoming

Doctor Devorah Perlakian sat in the

middle of the huge transport bay and waited for Guardian Three to

return. Crossing her arms over her chest, she slowly rocked from side to side

as she tried to calm herself. She still had trouble accepting, trouble dealing

with what had happened months before when Commander and the others on Transport

Two had disappeared inside that wormhole. Now she had to anticipate what

was to come, when the rest of the Guardians had suddenly taken off to return to

that same area a few days ago, and were due to arrive back at any moment.

Deceiver wouldn't tell her what the

outcome of their mission had been, which both confused and worried her. She was

always given a report, good or bad. And if someone was seriously injured and

needed immediate medical help, he was very adept at sending ahead the person's

specs, so she would be ready to provide expedient care.

But not this time. Other than the

cryptic “We're on our way home,” she'd heard nothing. Worse, it was taking them

longer than usual to get back, even though the Guardian leader had told her

they had sustained damage to the ship, and weren't able to use the hyperlight

drive. What was delaying them?

A shiver went through her. A warm

tear slid down her cheek. She allowed herself to cry when no one was around to

see her. She didn't want the others to see her weakness, afraid it would cast

her in an unfavorable light among the superheroes. Which was why she'd done as

much crying as she needed these past few days, since the rest of the Guardians

had left to pursue reports of pirate activity in the Caperonda cluster. She

figured that if she got it out of her system, there would be no more tears left

when they returned. No tears for the others to see. Her professional

countenance would remain intact, and give them the reassurance they needed from

her that they were in very capable hands.

Another tear glided down in the path

of the first. Silently, she cursed herself.

Commander was gone. Forever gone.

Sucked through that wormhole. That was almost five months ago, yet every time

she thought back to that day, her heart caved a little bit more. Just when she

had hoped she had turned the corner and was ready to walk the long road of

recuperation, something would remind her of him. A look, a sound, a memory, or

the mere mention of his name, and her carefully constructed mask would come

crashing back down around her.

I

think what hurts the worst, the reason why I can't resolve myself to you being

dead, is because I never saw you die. Neither did anyone else. One moment you,

and Hunter, and Seeker, and Disaster were fighting those pirates. Moments

later, the wormhole ate Transport Two, and it was as if you had never

existed.

Her soul felt fragile. It had

shattered at the news of Commander's demise, and only existed now because she'd

somehow managed to hold it together with pieces of determination and strings of

practicality. Her last hope at finding some kind of consolation had hung its

head in shame and shrunk away to the darkest caverns in her heart, leaving her

as barren as a lifeless planet.

Overhead, the enormous bay doors

ponderously began to open, sliding back to reveal a cloudless blue sky.

Somewhere above Guardian Command, the largest ship in its fleet was descending.

Wiping tears from her face, Devorah

sniffed and got to her feet. She pulled on her stoic face, then signaled the

emergency cart to hover nearby in the event someone had to be lifted to the

clinic.

She heard the big ship before she

spotted it. After several seconds, the shiny silver hull appeared, long,

tapered, and magnificent looking. Before long, the upper half of the ship came

into view. As it always did, the Guardian crest emblazoned on the tail sent a

little thrill of pride through her. It reminded her of the miracle that had

brought her to Guardian Command, and sealed her fate to become the group's first

on-site physician. So far she couldn't spot who was piloting the craft, but it

didn't matter. Right now, her primary concern was StarLight and her unborn

child.

The ship slowly settled into its

cradle before it began to power down. Devorah moved closer, bringing the cart

with her, to wait for the hull door to open.

Seconds ticked by without any sign

coming from the ship. Frowning, she wondered what was preventing them from

exiting. She glanced over at where the communications console was located, and

debated whether or not to call over and see if there was a problem, when she

heard the familiar hiss of the airlock. The door slid to the side, but no one

appeared to be waiting to disembark.

Devorah took another step toward the

ship, now that it was safe to approach, when Disaster halted in the doorway. He

stared at her for a moment, then walked onto the small platform and took the

short flight of stairs to the floor. Her eyes widened when he began striding

toward her with an unfathomable look on his face. This behavior wasn't like the

Guardian leader. That realization raised her level of alarm.

"What's wrong? What's

happened?" she whispered, and glanced at the ship, but no one else

appeared to be leaving the vessel. She gave another good look at Disaster, this

time with her medical eye. Other than exhaustion, she could see no outward

signs of injury.

"Doctor. Dev." His voice

was low, soothing. A little smile quirked the corners of his mouth.

By this time, her temper was

beginning to flare. "If there's something you need to tell me, spit it

out. What's wrong? Is there anyone needing my assistance?"

"Nothing's wrong. In fact,

everything's right. I just..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "I

just don't know how to tell you this."

"Tell me what?" A thought raced

through her mind, and her heart sped up. StarLight and the baby. She had

vehemently protested Star going on this mission because of the risk involved,

and the possibility of her losing the baby. "Did Star give birth out

there? Is she all right? Is the child all right?" She started to advance

toward the ship, when a figure appeared in the hull opening. A figure that

shouldn't have been there. That shouldn't have existed. That hadn't existed in

nearly five months.

Her mouth dropped open, and the

blood rushed from her body as Commander walked onto the landing platform, then

paused to stare at her. Her mind refused to acknowledge his return, his

presence. What she was seeing wasn't really him. He was a part of her fevered

imagination. Or a hologram. Or something not of the flesh.

The figure took the steps, his boots

making little hollow sounds. At some point, Disaster moved away, giving her

room to take it all in. Giving her space to breathe, although her lungs were

refusing to cooperate.

"Devorah."

It was his voice. His face. His eyes

that were riveted on her. That thin little worry line he always got above the

bridge of his nose was present.

"Devorah?"

He reached out, and warm hands

grasped her arms at the shoulder. This close, she could smell his sweat and the

tang of old air that always surrounded them whenever they had spent a long time

inside a spacesuit.

"Devorah, speak to me."

"Paol?"

"Yeah. It's me. Don't faint on

me, woman," he added softly, teasingly. He cupped the side of her face to

connect with her, letting her adjust to his touch. Feel him. Accept the truth.

Tears fell over her lower lashes,

but she was unaware of them until his thumb brushed one of them away.

Carefully, almost fearfully, she placed a hand on his jaw.

"H-how?"

"Long story. I'll tell you all

about it later. But now, I need to get something off my chest."

She couldn't wait for his

confession. Throwing her arms around his neck, she lifted herself up on her

tiptoes and hungrily pressed her lips to his. His muscular arms surrounded her,

the warmth his hard body engulfing her to the point that her mind whispered, It

doesn't matter the story. You're back. Another miracle has been granted, and

you've come home. My Paol. My love.