The Nightmare Revisited

By Annagail Lynes

Federal Agent Jessa Masters does not know what is wrong with her. Could it be Postpartum Depression like her Doctors think? Or is it something more? She is spending more time in her office and less time running the USS Liberty or solving cases. Is it just a case of the Mommy-needs-more-sleep blues, or is it something more? She thought the nightmare of her childhood was over until her sister Ashley becomes sick...and the family must gather to see who is a match to give bone marrow. That is when the secrets of Jessa's childhood come out. Will one of the family members be a match for Ashley? Will they save Ashley in time? And will the nightmare that was Jessa's childhood ever be over?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781257129362

Book preview

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ᔓ one ᔓ

Help me, I heard someone scream as I turned to leave Engineering after making one last sweep of the StarVessel before heading home.  I pivoted, surveying the room.        How could anyone survive this attack, I wondered. 

When the Crimson Fleet attacked the ship, beams fell from the ceiling.  Stations turned over.  Debris flew everywhere.  Sparks erupted after pieces of the ceiling impacted terminals.  The sparks ignited a fire.  Although contained to the far end of Engineering, the smoke gave Engineering a dusty glow.  Dim backup lights illuminated the department enough to see the bodies scattered about the floor.

When space travel became reality instead of science fiction in 2100, Earth’s Armed Forces came together to create the Freedom Alliance.  Each branch functioned on its own as it always had.  Only now they came under the rules and regulations set forth by the Freedom Alliance.  Now a little over fifty-one years after the establishment of the Freedom Alliance, some members didn’t agree with its rules and actions any longer.  Instead they formed their own organization, the Crimson Fleet. The new group’s main goal was to establish a one-world totalitarian government on Earth and its colonies on other planets.  When negotiations failed, the Freedom Alliance declared war on the Crimson Fleet.

Hello, I called out as I ventured further into Engineering.

Help, the person shrieked.  Moaning followed the scream.

I’m coming but keep talking so that I can follow the sound, I explained, moving in the direction of her voice.  Where were you when the ship was attacked?  That will give me the general direction to head toward.

I was doing maintenance on the access tunnels.  I had just exited one when the first wave of attacks came.

I proceeded toward the access tunnels, sidestepping bodies, jumping over beams, climbing over fallen equipment.  I’m Colonel Jessa Masters, I introduced, working my way toward her. 

Pleased to meet you, Colonel.  I am Captain Livvie Gray, came her reply. 

It’s nice to meet you, Captain, but considering our circumstances, let’s dispense with the formalities.  Call me Jessa, I uttered, removing a beam from my path before rubbing my smoke-irritated eyes.  Is it okay if I call you Livvie?  Is that short for Olivia?  I trudged through an ankle-deep pile of debris and rubble that had fallen from the ceiling and various parts of the room. 

Livvie’s fine.  I was named after my great-grandmother, General Olivia Pearl Gray, she provided, yelping in pain.  My parents thought that giving me her name would make me strong.  She chuckled heartily.  A few seconds later, she asked, Is Jessa short for something?

It’s short for Jessica.  Jessica Elizabeth Strazzer Masters, to be exact, I answered, coughing continuously for the next few minutes from the flying debris and smoke. 

Now...there’s an interesting name.  How many people were you named for, the woman prodded.

Jessica is one of my great grandmothers’ names.  Elizabeth is my mom’s mother’s name, I supplied, arriving at the point where her voice was the loudest, then I started digging through the rubble.  My parents weren’t too big on telling the truth, so who knows?  I could be named after the family dog.  My mom is in the security business, and my father, the doctor, is currently behind bars.

My parents are Freedom Alliance Engineers, she returned.  My three brothers and I are Engineers too.  I actually have four brothers, but one disappointed my parents by becoming a priest. Do you have any brothers or sisters, Jessa?

I have two brothers.  They are twins and run a medical clinic in Phoenix.  And we have a half-sister. She’s, well, she’s thirteen and lives with me and my family, I replied, reaching through the rubble.  When you feel my hand, grab it.

Just then the vessel jerked and swayed, knocking more panels from the ceiling loose.  The panels fell all around me.  I leaned in and probed the debris deeper until I felt her hand clutch mine. Doctor Manning, I screamed at the top of my lungs.  When I received no response, I yelled, Anyone?  I could use some help in here! I continued to discard beams, ceiling parts and equipment pieces feverishly until I uncovered a pretty, young blond with a big gash on her head.  She looked like Pippi Longstocking (Lindgren, Astrid.  Pippi Longstocking. 1945.) with her braids.  I tore off a piece of my black flight coveralls and held it to her wound.  Hold that there, I instructed, taking her hand and helping her out of the rubble to her feet.  Can you walk? She took some unsure steps before stumbling.  I draped my arm around her and said in a soothing voice, Lean on me, and I’ll get you out of here.  I walked her back down the same path I had taken, which contained fewer obstacles than when I blazed it the first time.  As we neared the door, I yelled again, Doctor Manning?  Anyone?  Help!

This time, Doctor Manning appeared.  When he saw me inching Captain Gray out of Engineering, he rushed in, picked her up and carried her out. 

Once outside, he told me, "We have transported the rest of the survivors and our crew members to the Liberty in the other space vehicles.  The vessel is becoming unstable.  We really need to evacuate immediately."

He led me to the hanger, where we parked our ShuttleCraft.  We entered it, and as I piloted it out of the hanger and toward our vessel the USS Liberty, Doctor Manning went to work on Livvie.

After guiding the ShuttleCraft several yards away, the vessel we had just abandoned exploded.  It spewed debris all over the galaxy and propelled us miles off course.  I stopped the ShuttleCraft and proclaimed, Let’s observe a moment of silence for the comrades we have lost today. Doctor Manning, Livvie and I lowered our heads.  I then entered the course change into the navigational workstation and steered us back toward the large, looming vessel out in the distance. A few minutes later, I glided the ShuttleCraft into the Liberty’s hanger.  After I took the ShuttleCraft off-line, I turned in my seat to face the doctor and queried, How is she, Doctor?

She suffered a sprained ankle, four cracked ribs and a nasty wound to the head.  Fortunately, she sustained no life-threatening injuries and should make a full recovery, Doctor Manning diagnosed as he covered her wound with a clean, white bandage.  Giving me a quick once-over, the doctor exclaimed, Colonel, you have a massive laceration on your arm.

I gazed down at my arm, and, for the first time, I noticed my torn sleeve and the blood seeping through my flight coveralls.  From my wrist to my elbow, the skin had been ripped off.  As a result, blood and pus oozed out, staining my uniform.  I peered up at the doctor and required, This is going to need stitches, isn’t it?  I held out my arm for him to inspect.

He walked away from me to grab his medical kit.  When he returned, he cleaned the wound and rolled a small tube over it, creating an invisible bond on top of the gash.  He ripped open a bandage and pressed it to the bond.  Come see me in a few days, Colonel, and I will see how it is healing, he charged, snapping shut his medical kit.

I lifted the door to the ShuttleCraft.  After Doctor Manning assisted Livvie out, I exited the vehicle and sealed it.  I hopped on the TravelTram, an elevator that moved up and down as well as sideways, at the end of the hallway, a few feet away from the hanger, with Doctor Manning and Livvie.  We rode in silence until I took my leave at Command Central.  I bolted past Lieutenant Thornhart, my company clerk, whose desk commanded the reception area outside my office. 

Once safely inside, I disappeared into the facilities to retrieve a new pair of standard black flight coveralls.  I kept extra ones in there in case I tore one, spilled something or just needed a fresh uniform.  Being the mother of six-month-old twins, needing a clean uniform was almost a daily occurrence. As I emerged, I furiously unzipped my coveralls and shed them.  I donned the new ones, folded the old uniform up and set them on the arm of the couch. 

I moved toward the window seat.  I stared out at the stars that flew by, but I couldn’t see them.  All I saw was the falling beams, the equipment sparking, the haze and the bodies stacked up like cars on the Washington Monument bridge at rush hour.  I grabbed my head.  I could hear the screams of those trapped under the rubble haunting me in my ears. 

Colonel, Doctor Manning needs to see you in the Hospital.  The staff meeting is in ten minutes, and General Graham is on the line for you.  He says it’s urgent, Lieutenant Thornhart notified me over my CommLet, the communications device I wore around my wrist.

Cancel the meeting.  No, better yet, have Lieutenant Colonel Masters or Major Riley handle it.  Then inform everyone, and I mean everyone, that I am not seeing or talking with people today, I snapped, pressing my thumb to the center of my CommLet, not taking my eyes off the stars.  Confirm my meeting with Doctor Dakota for 1600 hours.  Then you can either sit there and deal with the angry mob, or you can take the rest of the day off.  The choice is yours.

I knew something was wrong with me, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it.  The day-to-day activities of running the Liberty didn’t thrill me anymore.  I used to be excited to come into my office every morning.  Now I cringed at the thought of another day of talking to people, handling petty problems and staring at these walls. 

At first, I thought it was Postpartum Depression, as Doctors Manning and Reuben had diagnosed.  As time went on, I spent more time sitting in my office, not being able to concentrate.  I kept reliving horrific scenes in my mind during the day and in my dreams.  That’s when I sought Doctor Dakota’s professional advice. 

Doctor Dakota, the Liberty’s psychiatrist, worked as the psychiatric advisor for the Intergalactic Intelligence Bureau (IIB) for most of his career, giving him insight into my life that other psychologists didn’t have.   In addition to commanding the Liberty, I also served as a Federal Agent for the IIB, solving crimes on Earth and in space.

We met several times over lunch, and he ran a few tests.  He reached only one answer, and he planned to share his conclusion with me at 1600 hours.

Was I scared?  Yes, but more than that, I needed to put a name to what I was experiencing.  I couldn’t conquer an enemy I couldn’t identify. 

Peacock, this is Graham.  I need to talk to you, General Graham announced over my CommLet. I ignored him, rising to my feet.  I walked over to the conference table and poured myself a glass of water.  Peacock—my codename, the name my fellow IIB agents referred to me by.

Colonel, this is Doctor Manning.  Could you come to the Hospital, please, Doctor Manning called. When were these people going to leave me alone, I thought, taking my water back to the window seat.  I put the glass to my lips and sipped it.

Peak, where are you, I heard Nate demand.  "You were supposed to be at the staff meeting to brief us on what happened aboard the USS Fillmore." Nate Masters--my husband, my partner, my first mate, the father of my children.  Right now I doubted even he could save me from this abyss in which I felt myself sinking farther and farther. 

I yanked the CommLet off my wrist and hurled it across the room.  It smacked the entrance to my office and promptly fell onto the floor.  I said I am not seeing or talking with people today, I cried in the direction of the discarded CommLet.  I turned my back on it, losing myself in the stars again.  I ran my hand over the bandage on my arm, wincing in pain.  I added in a barely audible voice, "I’ll tell you what happened on the Fillmore.  It exploded.  People died.  And we were too late to save the majority of the crew."

I’m sorry, I heard Nate whisper behind me.  He draped his arms around me from behind.

I looked through the top of my eyes at him.  How did you get in here without me noticing, I muttered mostly to myself.  Although I was sure, he heard me.  Of course, that’s why you are called Jaguar, I remarked, folding my arms across my chest.  You have those cat-like reflexes and movements that let you slip in places without being detected.

Listen, Sweetheart, I know you are going through something right now.  I get that, but you can’t lock yourself up in this room, he counseled, turning me around to face him.  You can’t shut yourself off from the world and those who love you.  Let us help you.

There in lies the problem.  You can’t help me.  Graham can’t help me.  The kids can’t help me.  I can’t even help myself, and I don’t know why, I lamented, searching his cappuccino-colored eyes for the answers I needed to move on.  I feel like I am going out of my mind.  Like I am stuck in yesterday, and I can’t get past it.  I keep flashing back to explosions, to fires, to crashes that I have either witnessed or have been in.  It’s so bad that I have been discussing it with Doctor Dakota.  I swung around to see the stars again before moving back around to see Nate. "I pulled people from the rubble on the Fillmore, I started, putting my thumb to my lips.  And for that brief time, I felt like me again.  As if I were doing something worthwhile.  I came back here, back to my routine, and I realized that life will go on with or without me.  This vessel runs with or without me.  It’s like I’ve lost sense of my place in this world."

Nate took my hands in his and held them to his chest.  He peered into my eyes and expressed deliberately, Your place is with me, our family and our crew.  We would be lost without you.  You are the glue that holds us all together.  Major Riley was just complaining that things don’t work as efficiently when you aren’t around.  He tilted his head to the side; his eyes haunted by pain.  I don’t know what I would do if you decided to stop living.

Stop living?  I’m depressed.  Not suicidal, I answered, putting my hand to his face, stroking his ruggedly handsome features with my thumb.  Is that what you thought?  That I was thinking about suicide?  I laughed, shaking my head wildly.

It’s not funny.  You thought about it before.  You had it all planned.  You had updated your will, written goodbye notes to us and loaded your gun.  All you had to do was pull the trigger, Nate countered, pushed my hair back and stared at me. 

I know I did, and that was wrong of me.  I had a responsibility to you, Reggie, my crew and the IIB.  I realize that now, but then it was too hard for me to fight.  I was drowning in my own grief, I clarified, running my fingers through his jet-black hair.  I shot him a brief smile.  I learned that if I hold on long enough, something special will come along.  I think you and I and our family–we’re pretty special.  And that’s worth fighting for.

You got that right, Nate