Chapter 139

Diana and Jeff were sitting on a love seat in one of the hallway alcoves that overlooked the back parking lot. Jeff had just returned from speaking with Hope. He had been staring out the window as he and his Queen chatted. Jeff sighed, stretched his long legs out and propped his feet on an ottoman. "I have a problem. We have a problem. As you are aware, Little One and the Ship continue to tell me I'm a Prime. If that's true, then everyone who lives in this Retreat is my responsibility. You, my Love are my Queen. You run the household and the family, but if we accept this Prime thing, then I'm ultimately responsible for all the Alphas and their families."

"Jeff, we've discussed this before..." Diana started, but Jeff continued.

"Whether I like the position or not, whether I asked for it or not, I'm apparently the only one who that ... starship out there," he said, waving vaguely toward the outdoor range, "will allow to command her. I can hear better, smell better and see better than anyone I know or have ever heard of. My reflexes are faster. All that, and more, came about because of the Ship and Little One, and there are other things that I haven't mentioned..."

"Jeff, you've always been different, and you know it. Little One and the ship have enhanced you, but you've always been a Prime. And ... you have other abilities," Diana teased, "like turning our orgasm switch on and off," she inserted.

He felt his face flush, "Uh, yeah. That too." There was a hesitation, then, "I was with Joyce the night she was shot, even though I was miles away. And there are other things, most of which I can't seem to control. But getting back to what I started to say, the bottom line, to use an overused term, is that I'm responsible for everyone here. I don't mean to exaggerate this, but I can't accept these ... gifts I've received without shouldering the responsibility that seems to go with them. It's a ... feeling. No, that isn't exactly the correct word; it's almost a certainty — an absolute, maybe — that I'm responsible for all my ... Alphas. My Alphas. I own no one, but somehow I feel a total responsibility. Feeling, belief, impression, sense, hell I can't describe it, but I'm responsible. Responsible for everyone here, for and to my Alphas and their families. I have to protect them. It's more than just love, friendship, whatever. I have to. It's ... part of me."

"I understand all that, Baby, but what's wrong?" Diana asked, worried, as she reached over to take her husband's hand.

"Hope is what's wrong. Hope and Art."

Diana looked down for a second, suddenly realizing what her husband meant. "Helen says the counseling sessions will make things better, but they will take time, maybe a long time. I talked to Hope in detail after everyone came to see why I was crying. She understands that Art saved her life, or at least saved her from being sold into slavery and no telling what else, but she can't seem to be comfortable around men after that night. Oh, sometimes, things are easier for her than at other times. She's been eating with everyone, and she even hugged you once. But from what she told me, she had planned to thank Art for saving her. But when she saw him in the hallway, that night in the motel seemed to come crashing back on her. Later, from a distance, she saw Art again, and the same thing happened. It was as if she were suddenly there again, the memory apparently much more intense than it had been without the stimulus of seeing Art — much more.

"She says that she had had a 'special place," a fantasy place that she went to in her mind while she serviced those wealthy men. She calls them 'old rich men.' She said she went away in her mind, just leaving 'part' of her behind to pretend to be a twelve-year old, to say the things they wanted to hear, to do the things they wanted her to do. But the part that was her was safely in her special fantasy place. That night in the motel, she was expecting to be 'rented out' for the night. She didn't know her father was going to sell her. She heard them say they would be taking her out of the country, and was devastated by the knowledge. She stood there stunned, almost directly behind her father while he argued price — price for her life of slavery.

"She said the shooting started and her father's brains and blood splattered on her face — all over her as well. And ... she was fully there. She had always waited to go to her special place until the man was ready to fuck her. She was fully aware when they suddenly started shooting. She keeps emphasizing how loud the guns were in that small room. By the way she talks, she expected guns to sound like they do in the movies or on TV, but of course, they were much louder. Apparently, she even felt the concussion from the round that killed her father. Somehow, seeing Art brings it all back. I think she honestly wants to thank him, but she can't get past the horror of that night. Seeing Art causes Hope to relive that night."

"Di, I understand, and sympathize with her, but what about Art? Not only is that young agent's life changed because of what he did for her. Last night, Kayla killed because of Hope; so did my team. Oh, those people needed killing, true enough, but Kayla stayed right beside me and never flinched from her duties — doing things she had not received sufficient training to do with any reasonable amount of safety. One of my men almost died. If not for Little One and the Ship, he would have.

"One day Hope will probably be some Alpha's wife. Will she look back on today and wish things had gone a little differently? Will she be ashamed of the way she acted? She has to face her fears, confront them head-on just like Kayla did last night. She said she was scared spitless when the bullets started flying, but she did not flinch from her duties."

"Hope isn't quite sixteen..." Diana started.

Jeff let out a sigh. "Yeah, I know, but Arlene was only a few months older, and she ran down this hallway right here," he said, motioning, "to confront a mercenary that she had every reason to believe would probably kill her. She did it to buy me time to get Helen to safety. Jennie practically stuck a Glock in that other mercenary's ear when she blew his brains out. This from a girl who had been afraid of guns when she came here. If she's bothered about killing that merc, she is damn sure hiding it well.

"Di, how long will it be before Art figures out what's going on? We can only stall so long, and I will not lie to another Alpha. Hell, I'm not even sure I can. What's next? When he finds out, will he start taking his meals in his suite so he won't stress Hope by being in the kitchen with her? How will he feel when he realizes that the sight of him causes that night to come back, practically overpowering her mind? I'm responsible for both of them — to both of them. I even signed for her. I'm responsible for her," he repeated. "But I'm responsible for Art as well.

"Look what he's given up. Will he ever be safe? He can't continue his career as an FBI agent when he has to hide to stay alive. You told me that Hope can't go to her special place anymore. She can't escape to her fantasy where no bad things happen. But she's already in a special place. A place where she no longer has to worry about pleasing men while she pretends to be a twelve-year-old. A place where she is protected, not only by the best security force in the world and leading edge technology, but by people who love her and would fight to the death for her. And Di, you know I'm not exaggerating. Maybe she doesn't have to go to her special place in her mind anymore because that special place is right here."

"Jeff, Baby, what you're saying is very logical, but feelings and emotions aren't logical. They just exist. She is scared or at least uncomfortable around any male and has to force herself to be around any of you. Helen says this will gradually go away, and I think she's right. But seeing Art keys something, and Hope's memory of that night in the motel becomes much more vivid — terrifying for her. She knows he saved her, and she isn't intellectually worried that he will hurt her, but he's the catalyst of her reliving the horror of that night."

Jeff nodded his head. "Yeah. I suspect that none of us will ever be able to truly understand what she went through, but even I can understand enough to be appalled by what happened. It took a very brave and resilient young lady to do what she had to do and survive both mentally and physically. Yet, as much as I sympathize with her, I also have a young Alpha here who damn near gave his life to save hers. He could have stood there, done nothing, and not been shot. But he refused to allow her to be sold as a slave. With her father dead, the slavers who were left alive would have taken her with them.

"Chances are that at some point Art saw someone, or was in some way involved with someone high up in the organization. We assume that's the reason they're so intent on killing him. If he had done nothing, he and the surviving slavers would probably have continued working for the organization, maybe even have been promoted, and chances are he would have learned more to be able to help save other girls. But he blew his cover, and almost gave his life when he chose to save Hope. The beautiful young lady who didn't even show up to eat lunch with us — lunch with her savior, lunch with the guy who prevented her from being raped countless times until she eventually died from some awful disease or was killed because she had lost her looks and was no longer considered marketable. A young lady who was conspicuously absent at our noon meal when our whole family, along with the other Alphas and their families, were there.

"I understand the horror of what's happened to her. I really, really do, but ... we can't allow her to shame the man who freely offered his life for her. She didn't save him — didn't do a thing to try and help him when he was shot. He, along with a couple of paramedics, doctors and nurses saved his life. He crawled to that phone and called 911 to give his location. His life has been totally changed because of what he did for her. Now he has to hide from some very powerful and dangerous people for no telling how many years."

The Prime turned to stare hard at his wife, a deep frown creasing his face. "What the fuck am I to do, Di? If I help one, I will hurt the other. But I can't just sit around and do nothing."

Diana snuggled closer to her husband, then after a moment, got up and sat on his lap. She slid down a little and nuzzled her face against his neck, pushing her breasts against his chest. "What about Little One? Do you think..."

"She can repair, even make most any part of us better than the original, but she won't touch a person's personality. Baby, no matter what I say, everyone seems to think that she and I converse like the two of us are doing now. We don't. She's a telepath. As I've said over and over, she 'converses' in concepts. Admittedly, we can understand each other much better now than we could a couple of months ago, but I don't know if I could even convey to her what our problem is. And ... I'm not sure I could understand her response, anyway. She surprises me sometimes though, and we wind up communicating faster and in much more detail than I ever could by using speech. Apparently, while Little One was with Arlene in the chamber, the Ship enhanced Little One's ability to use the power of the dimensions. Her ability to heal quickly has obviously been increased, also, I think, her mental power as well. But she doesn't have the ability the Ship does. There is simply no comparison."

"So, why not ask the Ship about fixing Hope?"

"Honey, I ... Di, the Ship is an alien. Basically an AI, although that's an insult to such a vast mind. But vast or not, she's alien. Altering the personality of someone from another race; that's a scary concept."

The Queen briefly touched her lips to his before continuing, "Who says she would have to alter Hope's personality? You know that the Ship and Little One were both in Arlene's mind while our daughter was in that healing chamber. Arlene thought she died. I don't know. Maybe she did. But I think those two beautiful women she tells about were the Ship and Little One. I don't think those women were just a product of an oxygen-starved brain as it was dying.

"Hope's problem is the intensity of her memories from that night. At least, that's what I understand from what she tells me. The sight of Art triggers those memories and they become almost real in their impact. What if the intensity were less, hmmm? Generally, when something bad happens to us, the memory of it is extremely intense for a few days, but the intensity gradually fades. When we lose a loved one, the memory hurts terribly to begin with, but after awhile, it begins to lose some of its intensity. We never forget that person, or the grief we feel, but the memory, the feeling, isn't as strong. With most of us, the memory eventually diminishes until we can live normal lives, or near-normal ones. What if the Ship could ... fade Hope's memories of that night? You've told us that Little One and the Ship enhance our brains, and among other things, make the synapses and axons work faster — better. Maybe there's a way the Ship can reverse the process where those memories reside in her brain."

"Baby, what you're saying is logical, but I seriously doubt that our brains are that simple, or a concept of that nature would work — even if the Ship could do it. Oh, she can physically repair most anything wrong with our brains, but I certainly don't have a clue whether she could do this or not. We're not talking about just a physical repair. Screwing with someone's brain — memories ... And even if the Ship says she can do this, Hope would have to thoroughly understand and agree."

"But you would know if the Ship could do this after you ask her, won't you? I mean, you say you become part of her when you lie on that command couch, right? She's not like Little One; you don't have to interpret what she says?"

"Di, I..."

"I would love to see Hope walk in, sit down on Art's lap and hug his neck. He deserves that. Why don't you ask the Ship? If she says she can help, I'll talk to Hope — tell her everything you said. She'll do it if the both of us say it's the thing to do. Or ... we can wait for months, years, or forever for her to get over that night. There have been lots of young women who have had less trauma, and never recovered."

Jeff sighed and hugged his Queen to him. "All right, I'll ask, but if the Ship says there is any chance of harming Hope..."

"I understand," Diana said. "Now why don't you kiss me, then go have a chat with the Ship."

The "chat" comment was so absurd that Jeff chuckled. "Okay, I'll have a 'chat' with her, but I'm not promising anything, understand?"

"Yes, Dear," she teased.

In the early afternoon, after their conversation in the sitting room, Art Hanes, Bobby and Sandra, all tired from the missed night of sleep, plus the stress, had practically fallen into the big bed in their suite. Now that Art was no longer deluging them in pheromones, the nurses were able to kiss and hug him without thoughts of raping him, then snuggle in his arms as the three gave over to their fatigue.

Art had awakened from his nap a couple of hours later. The three hadn't bothered to undress or pull down the comforter, but had only slipped off their shoes and practically collapsed on the bed. Earlier in the day, Diana had called Sandra and Bobby aside and tactfully mentioned that she and her sister-wives, as well as the other women in the Retreat, had forsaken wearing bras in the building if only family were present. She had assured them that if they chose to do so, none of the Alphas, including Jeff, would leer at them, but also teased that there might be an occasional glance since all the men who lived here were very virile.