A Messiah with Armed Guards: Will Guns Prolong the Ministry of a Messiah?

By Charles Spellmann

is about a young planet which is about to have their own Messiah announce his ministry. God wonders if placing armed guards with the messiah would allow him to have a longer and more successful ministry.

Two armed guards on patrol between planets are caused to land on the young planet. The officers, man and woman, go undercover and accompany the new messiah when he announces his ministry. Lots of excitement is present, including the presence of Satan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665559157

Book preview

A

MESSIAH

with ARMED GUARDS

WILL GUNS PROLONG

THE MINISTRY OF

A MESSIAH?

CHARLES SPELLMANN

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2022 Charles Spellmann. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/10/2022

ISBN: 978-1-6655-5916-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-5914-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-5915-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022908570

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Epilogue

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1

T he sleek space ship suddenly seemed to have a mind of its own. It headed toward the planet as if it had been suddenly overcome with a magnetic force so powerful that it could not escape its pull. The pilot had been going over a map of this part of the universe when he noticed the sudden shift in direction. He had never seen a ship suddenly ignore the autopilot! The pilot hastily went over the controls, checking for errors, anything which would allow him to regain control of the ship. Nothing worked!

Grimacing, the pilot repeated his search for error, found nothing amiss, other than the fact that he had no control over what the ship did! His training had not prepared him for this situation!

Please, Carl! Get control! screamed Marianne, closer to panic than she had ever been. Tears managed to push free and poised above her cheeks. She made no effort to wipe them away; she had contained her fear for as long as she could! As copilot, she knew well that her panic was the last thing needed at such a moment of crisis. But she had suppressed her fear as long as she could!

I’m sorry, she muttered from behind her hand, embarrassed at her outburst.

Carl was perspiring, obviously anxious and frustrated by the situation, not really hearing his copilot scream at him. He tried his best to regain control of the Phantom, which suddenly began acting erratically! At first he thought the ship had somehow slipped out of its automatic pilot control, or had lurched into a vector different from its pre-set course. That had been known to occur when an unexpected magnetic force of a nearby uncharted planet or meteor was close. But his training had told him that the ship always responded to a few corrections by the pilot. However, a quick check of his charts and radar showed nothing which would be pulling them away from their course.

Marianne calmed herself and managed to speak. Sorry. Raising her gaze toward Carl, she asked, What’s going on?

Her composure seemed to help Carl regain some of his calm. He threw a glance in her direction and tried to flash a smile but couldn’t quite manage it.

Don’t know!. Something just grabbed us. Nothing I try regains power or control!

Marianne scanned her screen and could see nothing toward which they might be drawn by this unknown and powerful force. She noticed Carl had settled back in his seat and was studying the screen. She did the same. They were in no apparent danger of collision with anything, and the controls were not working, so they might as well relax; they sure weren’t in control of anything!

What was going on? Was their ship being kidnapped? Both pilots studied the screen for any clue as to their new and unknown destination. Neither spoke for awhile.

Did you radio base? Marianne asked tensely.

No, would you do it? I’ve been fighting these controls!

She set the radio on Home Frequency and waited for confirmation of contact. Nothing happened.

Nothing works! she said tersely.

Carl gasped, hit the radio contact button mounted on his console, and cursed when there was no response. The two looked at one another in disbelief. There was little to be said. Marianne hit the Emergency button and again nothing happened. The cabin lights and those illuminating the console continued to work, but power to the ship controls had disappeared.

Play with it, see if you can make something—anything—happen! he said. Marianne was already busy with her control console, punching every combination she could think of, and nothing happened.

We’re in trouble, she simply said.

Carl stopped fighting the controls and slumped back in his chair. They looked at one another as if confirming that they were in fact together in a runaway space ship, an unheard of phenomenon, with no way to even report it! Neither said anything; what was there to say? Every space pilot knew that being cast adrift in space was a possibility, although remote. It was even less likely that they would lose control of their direction and not be able to contact home base for rescue. Every exploratory ship carried ample backup supplies just in case the crew and its ship became lost in space. This situation had never occurred—yet—according to what the pilots knew. If it had happened, then the top brass had kept it secret lest the knowledge demoralize other pilots.

What does one do while waiting to arrive at an unknown place for an unknown reason? Marianne asked, tapping the console with her finger as if the movement might stir some hidden control button into life.

Carl grimaced. It’s hard to know when you don’t know how much time you have. He raised his brows. Game of chess?

Marianne smirked. You’d be too easy!

Both realized without saying it that there was virtually nothing they could do. Wherever they were headed, they would eventually hit something, and with no power to maneuver for a landing, it would be a crash.

A deadly crash.

Or, they could wander through space forever, their ship eventually becoming a traveling coffin waiting to be discovered some day. Or not discovered, ever.

Hours passed. The pilots sat at the controls and waited. They did not know what else to do. There had been no training for this situation. It had never happened just like this before. There had been lost ships, and control and navigation problems, but information had always been passed back and forth between the ship and home base. The problem had not remained a mystery for long; expert technicians were always on duty.

But this time?

The pilots had exhausted their technical knowledge about how to handle such a situation, and they essentially gave up and resigned themselves to an unknown fate.

Their thoughts turned to home and family.

Carl had been divorced for several years and had no children. His marital difficulties were the result of his extended absences on travel assignments. He had warned his wife about his missions into space, but she had overestimated her ability to deal with his absences. Since then he had been a loner, occasionally socializing with his fellow pilots whenever possible. However, his emotional energies were saved for the strain of the next mission into space. He did love his work! And, Carl admitted to himself, his failed marriage had seriously damaged his confidence in himself to maintain a romantic relationship. He did not want to fail again, and so he emotionally insulated himself when it came to women.

He had been approached by representatives of other countries, including Russia and North Korea, trying to buy his services as a pilot. He knew he had good experience and would be a welcome addition to the crews of those countries struggling to catch up with the US. He had no interest in working for anyone other than his home country and politely turned down their offers.

Marianne had never married. Caught up in the pursuit of her career as a pilot she had left that part of her personal life unattended. There just never seemed enough time to develop a romantic relationship, although there had been a few men she had found attractive. She was first of all a pilot and was proud of her accomplishments. She and Carl had been paired on a few missions before, and they had found themselves compatible as professional partners, but had never explored any further kind of relationship.

Carl had drifted off into his thoughts as his partner began humming a tune in an apparent effort to calm herself. He had heard it before, something she called an old church hymn she hummed to calm herself when under stress. He had wondered if she was religious, but the topic had never come up for discussion.

Marianne suddenly grabbed his arm and shook it. Look!

Carl’s eyes opened wide and he leaned forward to better see what was taking shape on the navigation screen.

Is it a planet? Marianne asked.

Carl focused on the picture, said, Looks like it.

Both watched intently as the object grew larger. They tensed, each in their own way imagining how the impact would feel when the ship crashed— although they knew they would never know! The impact would instantly pulverize them and the ship and everything in it; they wouldn’t feel a thing. And the managers back at Base would always wonder whatever happened to the Phantom and its crew.

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2

T he tension was palpable. Carl’s hands flew across the control panel, again trying every combination he could think of, a last and desperate attempt to take control of the ship. No good. Everything was still dead to any attempt at control.

Carl reached across to Marianne. She took his extended hand and they held tightly for a brief moment, a small comfort, but better than none! She tried to smile bravely but only managed a quivering of her lip; he did no better. It was not something to smile about. She resumed her humming of the old church song, and seemed to relax a bit.

The object grew into a planet. The screen showed more detail as they sped closer. It had an atmosphere, evidenced by the clouds. Any other time and they would have been quite curious about the strange planet. But all they could do was tightly hold hands and wait for the impact.

The planet filled the screen as they dropped even closer. Soon all they could see were clouds, and then they were through them. Outlines of land and water formed in the picture, but held no interest for them, because they were about to crash into this planet.

And they would never know why.

Suddenly the console lit up and made crackling noises. Power was back!

Carl immediately tried the controls. This time they worked! Marianne gasped and held onto her chair as Carl maneuvered the ship out of its dive. The Phantom slowed and pulled up from its vertical descent. Both pilots held on tightly as the ship began to level out ; they were not sure if there was enough space to avoid a collision with the planet, but Carl continued to pull back on the control stick and Marianne muttered encouragement. Come on! You can do it!

And he did. They swooped low over a coastal plain and then over an ocean. Carl turned the ship back toward the land mass. There were mountains in the distance straight ahead, but flatter land lay to their left. He steered in that direction, even as he realized that the Phantom had already begun the turn, and they slowed even more.

I think we’d better land and figure out what went wrong, Carl said. I don’t think it matters what we plan to do; this ship has a mind of her own!

And now it has decided to behave! she added flatly, reminding them that there was indeed a mystery to solve.

Carl grunted. Maybe the brains back home can figure it out. I sure can’t!

Marianne nodded. She was just thankful they had avoided a crash into the planet. They now needed to land safely and assess the situation with the Phantom, figure out what went wrong, and fix it. Then they could think about returning home.

The picture on the screen showed forests sweeping by and then they were over a broad expanse of plains which extended as far as they could see.

There. That looks suitable, said Carl. He pointed to a flat area on the plain with no tall growth. Buckle in, he said with a smile, knowing that neither had unbuckled their belts during their wild ride. He noticed that the ship had already made for the plain before he touched the controls.

The Phantom settled onto the prairie as softly as a feather, just like the manual said it would.

Nice landing, said Marianne.

Thanks. But I think it landed itself! He believed that it may have done just that!

The engines shut down on their own, eliciting a puzzled exchange of glances between the pilots. They sat in silence for awhile, relaxing for the first time in several hours, gathering their wits about them.

Alright, said Marianne. Lets see if we can diagnose the problem. They moved to different parts of the ship to make their examinations and hopefully repair whatever had gone wrong.

Two hours later they met in the kitchen; both hungry after a long and exacting day, much of it careening around an uncharted area of the universe and totally out of control of the ship.

Well? Carl said. Find the problem?

None where I looked. You?

He shook his head. They stared at one another, perplexed.

Marianne scratched her ear, asked, What does it mean? We lost total control of the ship and then regained it just before crashing, and we can find nothing wrong?

Carl rubbed his head as he shrugged. His impression that the ship had been flying itself, even landing them on a particular plain, was too bizarre to voice, but he told her anyway.

She pondered his statement and could think of nothing to say in response; it made no sense! She could only shrug and say, Well if there is nothing wrong with the Phantom, how about we exit this planet and go home?

Carl nodded and they turned toward the control cabin. We can try, but it may be the same outcome—no control! They had taken two steps when there was a banging on the hull. They looked at one another with puzzled expressions.

Natives? Wild animals? whispered Marianne, as if afraid that they would be overheard by the intruder.

Let’s check the security camera, Carl said, and led the way back to the pilot cabin. He punched the controls and the screens came alive. On the side of the ship where the exterior door was located they were able to make out the forms of three figures; they appeared human. One of them, a bearded man, raised his stick and again banged on the ship’s hull.

Neither pilot had ever been in this situation before. Neither was clear on protocol when the natives knocked on the door of one’s ship. Was this fellow asking for food? Wanting to visit? Welcoming the travelers from afar? It was as if the natives had appeared out of nowhere. They could not have anticipated the arrival of the Phantom, so this must be a chance encounter.

Carl flipped the speaker switch. Hello, he said, not knowing if the natives would understand his greeting.

The leader, the man with the club, looked up toward where the voice had come, and repeated Carl’s greeting, awkwardly voicing the unfamiliar sound.

Hello.

Marianne was intrigued. Do you think he speaks English?

Hard to imagine that. He’s probably just echoing us.

The man with the club placed the stick on the ground, opened his hands in a universal show of openness, and peered back into the camera.

What should we do? whispered Marianne. Realizing there was no need to whisper, she said in a normal tone, They look peaceful enough.

Carl reached into a drawer and secured two automatic hand guns, one which he placed in his pocket and the other he gave to his copilot.

We’ll find out, he said. I’ll be right back. I hope. If there is trouble, come save me! He pushed the hatch button and the door slid open. Carl started down the stairway to the hatch. The ship’s instruments had indicated breathable air, and that was confirmed by the apparent good health of the natives on the ground. Marianne watched her partner descend to the open hatch and exit the ship. She closed the hatch behind him, not knowing what to expect. As soon as Carl was on the ground, she closed the hatch and secured it. That was established protocol when one landed on unfamiliar ground.

Carl faced the three people, two men and a woman. The men had beards and longish hair, as if they spent most of their time outdoors. Animal skins were draped around their bodies for clothing. They appeared strong and capable; they looked Carl in the eye without appearing afraid or menacing, or even surprised at finding a space craft had landed in their midst.

The woman was covered by a woven fabric and her long hair was pulled behind and tied with a cloth. There was a calm expression on her face, yet she seemed curious about the strangely dressed man who had just descended from the space ship.

Full of curiosity, they stared at one another. Finally the lead man made a sound which was apparently the equivalent of Hello. He forced a smile as if he thought that was a necessary follow-up to his spoken greeting.

Carl saw no hostile signs and began to relax, yet kept his hand within easy reach of his weapon.

Hello, he answered. He pointed at the ground and made a quizzical facial expression. What place is this?

The two men exchanged glances as if trying to decipher what Carl had just said.

Torbor, said the first. He placed his hands on his chest and said something which could have meant, this is our home.

Carl relaxed even more. Their manner was not hostile, and they appeared to have a reason for meeting the Phantom, although he could not imagine what that could be! No one knew we were coming, did they? He laughed silently at the situation, which was better than cryng, he told himself.

Unsure what to do next, Carl waited, hands at side. The natives watched him. Their leader then pointed to himself and said Cuthar. He pointed to his companions and introduced the other man as Jasar and the woman as Murta. He then pointed up at the ship and shrugged, clearly asking if anyone else was with Carl.

Carl gestured toward the ship and said, Marianne. The man nodded in understanding. He exchanged glances with his companions, then took a deep breath as if realizing that the next part would be difficult at best.

Cuthar looked toward the ship and pointed to the ground beside Carl. Marianne, he managed to pronounce.

The meaning was clear. He was inviting Carl to bring Marianne down to the ground with them. But why? What was this all about?

Carl slowly shrugged his shoulders and put a quizzical look on his face. His raised brows left no question as to what he was asking: Why do you want my crew on the ground?

The tall swarthy man half turned his body and pointed toward the horizon. With his other hand he made a come on gesture.

Carl was surprised and puzzled. What was this all about? He shrugged his shoulders and extended his palms face up, posing the universal question of what?

A mild look of impatience crossed the man’s face. He stared into Carl’s eyes for a few seconds and again made the motion toward the horizon. Seeing Carl’s resolve, Cuthar placed his hands together under his chin, making an appeal to Carl which he could not ignore.

He needed to consult with Marianne. He made a halt gesture toward the native and retraced his way up the stairs into the Phantom. Cuthar seemed to understand, nodded, and settled in for a wait.

What do they want? asked Marianne. Carl made his way to the control cabin with his co-pilot close beside him. They sat in their usual places and Marianne waited for Carl to explain.

They seem nonthreatening. They want us to go with them. I don’t know why or where exactly.

They looked at one another. It was a puzzling situation, one they had never been trained for, and neither knew what to say about it. They sat silently for awhile, pondering their situation, waiting for an answer to appear.

Lets try the controls again, before we do anything else, said Marianne. Carl nodded and turned to the control console and made the necessary adjustments. Nothing happened when he pressed the button which should have turned on the control console and readied the rockets for ignition. He tried again, and once more the Phantom showed no signs of interest.

Its dead! Carl said, frustrated. What is this all about?

The two Earth pilots stared at one another as if that would somehow bring forth a response to the question, but none appeared.

It was as if these natives somehow expected us to land—here— and now want us to go with them. Said Carl. Seems scripted! he added, making a face. Like the ship decided to come to this planet and land in this particular place no matter what we wanted!

Marianne nodded her head in bewilderment. She had no idea at all what to say.

Let’s look at our options, he said. First, we are stranded. We don’t know why, or where, but we are here and I don’t see any way to leave. She nodded. And these natives meet us and want us to go with them. And we don’t know where or why. Again Marianne nodded. We can refuse, stay in the Phantom and wait…for what I don’t know. He wagged his head. No one knows where we are and we have no communication with home….

We have enough food on board to last a good while, she said. But staying holed up in the ship for a long period of time does not appeal to me. What would we be waiting for? The Phantom to suddenly start working again?

With nothing working in the ship, the batteries will eventually run down and there will be no lights or air conditioning. It will become intolerable as living quarters. Carl said.

There was a long silence. Marianne let a smile creep onto her face. Let’s have an adventure!. Let’s see what these natives have in store for us!

Carl pondered this. Could be interesting, he said, and shrugged to indicate he did not know what else was left to be said. He allowed a smile to appear. Let’s do it!

They decided to gather a supply of food to take with them, as well as weapons. Each would carry a hand gun and a supply of ammunition, concealed under their clothing. Marianne gave each of them a knife from the kitchen, which they also concealed. One change of clothing was all they could carry as they did not want to overload themselves.

The hatch was opened and the crew descended. Carl fastened the hatch, set the combination so that no one could access the interior of the Phantom. Carl put his hand at Marianne’s back, and they faced the natives, their bags full, signifying that they were ready to leave the Phantom. Marianne could not believe that she and Carl were willing to embark on such a course of action! It made no sense to leave their ship and accompany these primitive people to…where? She had an impulse to pull back and urge Carl to reconsider! What did these strange people want from them?

But, a part of her replied, was the option of staying with a non-working Phantom any better? No, probably not.

Cuthar’s face was a question. Would the pilots trust the natives enough to leave their ship and follow them? Carl nodded, affirming that he and Marianne would go with them. The native was obviously relieved, gestured toward his companions and started walking away. The crew of the Phantom, lost ship from the planet Earth, fell in behind the natives and the group began their trek across the prairie of the planet Torbor.

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3

U nfortunately for Carl and Marianne the journey over the grassland lasted most of the day, and they grew weary. Some conditioning exercises were done while in space transit, but their bodies were not ready for a long walk. The sky was growing dark by the time they arrived at a small village near a stream of water. Based on the pathway of the sun, Carl figured they had been traveling westward, and now they had encountered a small river. Across the water, in the distance, he could make out the profile of mountains. He registered all this in his memory, as Carl still believed somehow they would need to return to the Phantom. A part of him remained convinced that eventually they would return home to Earth. This kind of situation just did not happen! And if it did, it should not! And if it had occurred before, why had no one reported it before now?.

The village of Dalu was a collection of primitive huts of varying sizes. Some of the walls were stone and others appeared to be made of adobe type bricks. The roofs were straw and tree branches. It reminded the Earthlings of houses they had seen in educational movies in school, homes of natives from primitive areas of Earth.

Villagers ran from their huts to greet Cuthar and his companions. They stared at the newcomers with curiosity and disbelief, wondering at the strange clothing these two wore, and what land they might have come from. And the man’s face was so neatly and closely shaven. How had he done that? And the woman’s hair; how had she made it so soft?

Cuthar stopped at the edge of the village and waited for the crowd to move in close. He didn’t want to have to make his introductory speech more than once, although he realized that was likely an overly optimistic wish.

During their walk that day, Marianne and Carl had listened to the natives talk among themselves. Mostly they didn’t understand the conversations, but occasionally thought they were able to understand the meanings connected to some words. It would be in their own best interests to learn the local language!

Cuthar raised his hand for quiet, apparently a universal gesture, Marianne thought. She leaned against a post; it had been a tiring day! Perhaps his words would bring some understanding as to what they were doing here.

Cuthar began talking, pointing across the prairie to the southeast from where they had come that day, then pointed up to the skies, using both hands to emphasize the concept of vastness, an idea he apparently thought too difficult for the common person to fathom without help. Then he pivoted, swinging an arm in a wide arc and pointed at the ground at his feet.

There was excited murmuring among the townspeople. They had been impressed with Cuthar’s presentation and now observed the newcomers with renewed expressions of curiosity and even awe.

What is he saying? Marianne whispered to Carl, and immediately realized that he had no better idea than she.

He shook his head. My guess is that they are going to either worship us or eat us, and haven’t decided which.

Marianne chuckled in spite of herself. I guess we are special in some way, or at least different enough to have earned the center of attention.

Looks like it.

Another man, gaunt in appearance and clad in a long robe, appeared in front of the crowd, which moved aside to make room for him. His beard was long and managed with braids, perhaps in an attempt at village officialdom. Cuthar and his two companions seemed glad for the man’s arrival.

Chief Semone, these are the beings who were in the flying ship. They are… he paused as he recalled the strange names of the newcomers. Carl and Marianne.

The chief nodded, made a faint smile, and gestured for them to follow him. Cuthar and Murta and Jasor were behind Carl and Marianne and gently nudged them to move forward and follow their leader, Chief Semone. They were led to a simple house made of sticks and a thick straw roof. It was more spacious inside than it appeared, thought Marianne. They were invited to sit on a large mat in the center of the room.

When all were settled, Semone quietly made eye contact with the travelers from afar, holding their gaze long enough to underline how serious this meeting was.

This is important to them, whatever it is, said Marianne.

Semone began talking, punctuating his discourse with gestures, sweeping the room with his hands and sometimes pointing upwards. He then pulled the edge of one hand across his throat, held it there for emphasis, and stopped talking. His eyes teared but he maintained visual contact with the pilots.

That’s a universal sign of death, I’ll wager, said Marianne.

Murder, Carl added. He is concerned about somebody’s murder.

Semone stabbed a finger at the pilots and said something, then grabbed the hand under his throat and pushed it forcefully to his lap.

Marianne’s brows shot up. Do you think…

…that he wants us to stop a killing? Carl finished her question.

Semone silently regarded them as if assessing the worth of these two strangers to be a part of whatever drama he had in mind. He shook his head in a combination of disappointment and resignation, stood, and gave Cuthar directions. He took one more long look at Carl and Marianne, as if hoping to see more possibilities than his initial assessment had found. The chief, a dismal grimace covering his face, made a departing gesture toward the newcomers, and left the house.

Cuthar stood and took charge. He motioned for the two to follow him. They were led to the center of the village where a crowd milled about. There were several cook fires and women stirring pots or spits crowded with meat. Some children milled around out of curiosity, wanting to see the newcomers up close, but had no real understanding of what was at stake.

When Cuthar and his entourage entered the area, all talk ceased and the people moved in closer to the rare meeting. They stared at these mysterious newcomers. The expressions on their faces were not of hostility or disdain, but more of awe and respect. And most of all hopefulness that this ordinary appearing man and woman could somehow protect their messiah, a special messenger from God himself!

Who do they think we are? whispered Marianne.

Good question, replied Carl, but I don’t think we are who they think—or hope we are.

Maybe we should fake it, she replied. So far we seem to be on their good side.

Yes, but what are they expecting us to do for them?

Marianne shrugged, gave a half smile, and said, So far we haven’t disappointed them. She had decided to relax and enjoy this unexpected moment of fame. She couldn’t stifle the chuckle which spewed from her smile, drawing a quick glance from Carl.

Any questions about what to do next were interrupted by the arrival of another man, accompanied by an entourage of bearded fellows.

Cuthar held a hand toward the newcomers and said to the pilots, Dovu. To Dovu he gestured toward the Earthlings, Marianne, Carl.

Dovu studied them intently before nodding in greeting. Then he gestured for them to follow, and he led them to a small clearing where he invited them to sit on mats arranged in a circle. They could still hear the villagers in the street, wanting to be close to the meeting regarding the arrival of their long awaited messiah. And they were curious about these newly arrived protectors, strangers from far away.

When Cuthar and his party settled on their mats, their attention turned to Dovu. He made eye contact with Carl and Marianne in a solemn manner, as if insisting on their full attention to what he was about to say.

Dovu began talking and making elaborate gestures, knowing that the latter were the key to communication with these foreigners. He gestured upward, seemed to grab a point above his head and with his other hand made a pathway from there to the ground.

Is he referring to us? Marianne asked, glancing at Carl.

He shook his head. No, its something else. Like a signal sent from the sky above to this ground…what did he call this planet?

Torbor, she said.

Dovu then made as if picking up something where he had placed his hand on the ground. He cupped his hands and gently swayed them as if rocking an infant, brought it before his face, and then he dropped his head as if in deference to whatever was held in his hands. After awhile he raised his face and looked at the pilots.

Yahlo, he said reverently, nodding toward his hands. Yahlo. Cuthar and the others bowed their heads and uttered the word, Yahlo.

Carl raised his brows, not understanding.

Marianne said, I think I get the gyst of what they are trying to communicate. She paused, scanning the faces of the natives who watched her expectantly. She continued, It’s confusing, I know, but somehow they believe that we have been assigned the job of protecting this special person, Yahlo. She shrugged. Whatever or whoever a Yahlo is.

There was a long silence among the natives. Dovu sensed that Marianne had grasped the essence of the situation, and the natives waited for this information to be digested by the two people who had been summoned for this auspicious occasion.

They liked this woman. She was smart, and didn’t mind speaking up toward her man. Not all women had the courage to take the lead in a conversation, or to give an answer ahead of the males, or worst of all, to contradict them. When it happened, men were embarrassed; even irritated; for after all, a female shouldn’t figure out the answer faster than a man!

It would help if we understood their language, Carl finally said.

Yes, she agreed, and nodded.

He shrugged. This is unbelievable! The people on this planet are expecting a ‘behavior advisor’ to arrive, they are afraid for his safety, and somehow they hijacked the Phantom in order to conscript us as bodyguards. He looked at Marianne. Not that either of us have any experience or training as bodyguards. He almost forgot to close his mouth, as if speechless, but then managed to add, Does that really sound believable? He glanced around at the natives and said to no one in particular, Oh well, now that I am here, I have nothing better to do. He glanced at Dovu, and said, I hope the pay is good. And a paid vacation? He smiled at his own joke and Marianne couldn’t help but smile.

She then shrugged, a sign of resignation. Guess we have a home base for now. She glanced at her partner and said, It will all come clear in time. Let’s make the best of it. The pilots looked at Dovu and nodded in agreement. It seemed that some tension fled from his body. He was relieved by their agreement!

Time passed and the days turned into weeks. The pilots from the Phantom were not left alone during the daytime. It seemed that the entire village had been given instructions to interact with Carl and Marianne at every turn in an attempt to engage them with language, however limited. Assigned to a small hut, the two settled in and adjusted comfortably well. They slept on mats laid out on the ground. A woman or two always materialized before meals and spent wordy sessions of culinary instruction with Marianne. The natives consistently encouraged the two strangers to verbally respond, at first in their own language, and then in a mixture as they became familiar with the local dialect.

One of the older village women, Lati, almost became a constant companion with Marianne and Carl. At first welcomed as a friendly sort who could be helpful if they needed to know something about local customs, it became clear that she was more than an on-call handy-lady; she challenged the two, insisting that they make an effort to converse in her language. She was friendly and persistent and asked that they respond to her comments as a way of practicing speaking their language skills as well as learning the local customs.

Once Marianne turned to Carl and remarked, She is tougher than any language teacher I ever had!

Carl nodded. I agree. She is determined that we learn to communicate with the locals. Reminds me of an Engllish teacher I once had in school. He shrugged and smiled wryly. I suppose us bodyguards can perform our jobs better if we understand the language.

The pilots were good students and learned quickly. They treated the situation seriously and worked hard at learning the language. Besides, they had nothing else pressing to do. After awhile they began to enjoy the sessions with Lati, who had a good sense of humor. They could tell from her expressions of satisfaction that she was happy with their progress.

Occasionally in the evening before they turned over and went to sleep, they had conversations about Earth and their families and the political situations and all manner of other topics from back home.

I was always looking for adventure in our travels, but I gave up a long time ago. What we do is routine and boring, said Carl, but then one day…I never imagined this situation!

Marianne nodded. Then she asked a question that was heavy on her mind. Have you thought of how we will ever get home? Neither of them had any idea how to return to Earth since the Phantom had quit for no apparent mechanical reason. Logic seemed to dictate that they would be citizens of Torbor for the rest of their lives. They occasionally talked about returning home, as if their refusal to accept their fate would keep alive the possibility of living again on Earth, rejoining their friends and families.

.Sometimes she was really homesick and depressed.

Neither had a spouse. Carl had been married for awhile but it had not worked out, likely, he thought, because of his schedule. I was gone too much for anyone to want to live with me, he said simply. She got tired of it and left. Carl shrugged. Can’t blame her. He seemed to have made peace with the fact that he had not made his wife happy, and consequently lost the woman he loved so much. But Marianne could still sense the pain in his voice whenever the topic came up. She didn’t mention the failed relationship again.

Marianne nodded her understanding. I dated some, but when the men found out I was out patrolling the heavens most of the time, they lost interest. Most of them, the good ones, wanted a stable home with some children. She lowered her gaze and appeared sad, almost dropping a tear. Guess I’m not suited to being a stay at home mom. Both grinned ruefully at their past failed romances; what else was there to do?

The two had become closer in the past few weeks than they had been while living together on the Phantom. The detailed time structure of life on the ship, marked by charts and courses and the mechanical operation and maintenance, was now replaced by a slower, more relaxed and varied social context. Living among the natives was challenging, sometimes boring, and at times even a little fun.

Although both were single and occasionally lonely for the pleasures of an intimate companion, the possibility of developing a romantic relationship was never brought up. Both had failed in their attempts at a committed love relationship, and were doubtful that they could successfully handle such an intense partnership. When together on the Phantom they maintained an unspoken contract to avoid any such intimacy; both were skittish about an emotional attachment. They didn’t want to be hurt again, and it could interfere with their jobs. Much better to keep their friendship, which was well established and reliable, than to sacrifice it on the blaze of a romantic disappointment. Which, they now concluded, could leave them vulnerable in this new society where all the rules were not yet understood.

Often they speculated about the nature of their new and unexpected mission on Torbor. Somehow these people believe that we can be of some help to them. Marianne was very aware of the emotional expectations of the local people. They were counting on the pilots to perform an important function for them!

Carl nodded. But how did they know when and where we would be when the ship came down? And how could they have known we would have flight trouble? It was as if we were following a script which they knew about—and we didn’t. They even knew when and where we would show up!

Marianne said, I have tried asking Lati about that. The fact that we are here doesn’t seem a mystery to anyone in the tribe.

No one but us, quipped Carl.

But she doesn’t know. Marianne scratched her head. Or she can’t understand what I am asking her. I think that is the problem. Our contexts are so different. It’s as if she assumes that we should know whatever this is all about, as if we accepted this mission knowing all the details. This event is something she has been a part of all her life. It’s a major cultural event. Built around a religious belief. And I suspect it is something of a monumental event in the life of the people!

Lets see if we can find Dovu. Its been awhile since we talked to him.

They stood on the street until a neighbor woman passed by, carrying a bag of food. Marianne stepped in front of her and gave a warm smile.

Excuse me, please, said Marianne with a warm smile. The neighbor woman looked at her in surprise, then recognized that this was the woman who had come to help the Yahlo be a success. In her halting language, Marianne asked if she would find Dovu and invite him for a meeting. The old woman nodded, seemed pleased to be asked to help with the Yahlo project, and turned toward the village.

Later that day Dovu arrived at their hut and politely announced his presence. He was alone, which was unusual. He was invited to sit with them, and smiled a greeting; he seemed comfortable with these people from the skies.

You wanted to see me? Dovu said quietly in his self assured manner.

Carl nodded and Dovu sat on the mat as if expecting Carl to do likewise.