Chapter 208

Art, with Hope's arms clasped tightly around his waist, led the way back on their snowmobile. He was cautious coming down, just as his women had been as they led the way up. There were washouts, boulders, and other obstructions that had to be maneuvered around. Down the mountain, the Retreat and its surroundings were ablaze with light, so losing their destination would not be a problem. In addition, their tracks were there to guide them, just as there had been other tracks to guide them on the way up, but even if the tracks and lights had not been there, the trail was marked with an occasional red reflector on a tree or pole that would have prevented them from getting lost.

As they stopped behind the garage to clean and gas up their machines, Arlene, Nat, Nicki and Whitney came out of the garage to greet them.

"Hi guys," Arlene said. "Leave that to us, and go on inside. Jennie, Ann and Melissa will serve a meal in your suite in thirty minutes."

Sandra and Bobby uttered as one, "What..."

Art was shaking his head. "I can't let you clean up our snowmobiles. No way will I allow..."

"Direct orders from the boss," Arlene broke in with a laugh. "Mom says to get you inside and cleaned up for a nice supper."

"But..."

"We know what to do. We've all done this tons of times. Now hurry before Mom gets pissed and sends someone out to check on us."

Suddenly, Arlene hugged Art, her mouth coming close to his ear. "Just make her happy. She deserves it. We're all trying to help." Stepping back a pace, Arlene winked at him.

The young agent grinned back at her before turning to his women. "Well, looks like we have our orders. Let's go, Ladies."

"There's something to do first," Hope said. "I need to take Sugar out..."

But Arlene was shaking her head. "Jennie and I just took the puppies for their walk. She'll take care of Sugar until you get back to your suite. Go have fun."

"I ... Thanks Arlene."

"Go."

Bobby grabbed Hope's hand as the four turned to jog toward the back door.

Although his immersion into the Ship's mind gave a much clearer understanding than he was able to get from his interactions with Little One, the main underlying fact remained: a telepath and a non-telepath struggled to communicate. In addition, they were alien to each other. To say that their backgrounds were different was an understatement of colossal proportions.

The Ship's mind had been in its infancy when her last direct, face-to-face contact with her master race happened. She had a vast knowledge (at least recorded knowledge in her database) of her race and others, but had no actual live interactions with her masters after they had left her to build and become the Ship. Much of the science she had since devised had not even been thought of by her masters, so it had been necessary to create new concepts and terms as well. In addition, telepaths were wont to think and communicate in concepts instead of assigning a word to the concept as non-telepaths do. Now, she had to convey those concepts and terms to an alien who could not even properly communicate telepathically with her. Still, their communication was far, far better than what her Prime Healer could manage with her limited abilities.

Jeff found himself in a part of the Ship that he had never been in before. As he hesitated, his whole world seemed to shift, and a feeling of dizziness touched him so briefly that he wondered if he had imagined it. As he glanced down, he realized that the deck under him had been replaced by very real-appearing earth, instead. There was sparse, blue-green ground cover and an occasional bush of the same general color hue. All the plants he saw seemed to have larger leaves than he would expect. The whole thing spoke of alien. He was standing in a long canyon, fairly narrow and flat, extending a mile or more. Beyond that, the flat ground quickly changed into what appeared to be the beginning of a mountain that faded into the mists as the distance increased.

"Is this real?" he sent to the Ship, his mental voice remaining totally calm, although his mind sought how this could be with him still inside the Ship.

"Of course. You know I am dimensional and capable of this. Why do you question now?"

Jeff stood quietly for a second, then, "There's knowing and then there's knowing."

He could have sworn the Ship sniggered. "What more do you require?"

The Prime sent a mental image of Security's range.

"Primitive."

Jeff shrugged and sat on the padded stool that grew out of the deck/ground. "Maybe, but let's keep it simple for now. All I need is a target, a table to put my equipment on, and a way to see where my steel ball hits on the target – assuming I can develop the skill to hit the damn target in the first place."

The table that the Ship grew for him seemed to be identical to the one on Security's range. The screen that formed above and slightly to the right certainly was not the same as the screen on the range, though. Rather, it had the clarity of the other vision screens on the Ship. It looked as if he could reach out to the screen and touch the target.

From a fatigue pocket, he withdrew his launcher and golf tees, then dug into another pocket to fish out a small box of the steel balls, putting everything on the table. After pushing the spike of a golf tee into the hole in the launcher, he reached for a ball.

"Perhaps a discussion about dimensional power should preface action, my Prime."

Over the next hour, the Ship taught Jeff some of the "basic" concepts of the powers of the dimensions. What he had been doing "worked," but he felt the Ship was trying to inform him his method was a little like killing an ant with an H-bomb – and after he realized how much power he had been tapping into, the analogy didn't seem to be that far off. The cold chills that crept up his spine didn't seem to want to go away, either.

His mind meshed more deeply with the Ship as she guided him to another – lesser – power level of the dimensions. She took control with his functions piggybacked to hers as she slowly guided him through the procedures. Words could never describe the detail and feelings he received as he learned. There was more than sight or touch – much more; she coached senses from his awakening brain that he never knew existed. He felt like a very small child seated on his tiny new bike with a parent hovering over him, guiding and keeping him from falling, moving his feet to the pedals, pushing a hand down over his feet to make the pedals move and the bike go.

"There. Sense that? Just a minute amount more. Now hold that. See how easy it is."

Of course, what he heard in his mind was her interpreted thoughts, but as they worked the power together, he began to feel and somewhat understand her concepts, without interpretation.

He turned his launcher vertical and placed a ball in the tee. "Don't launch the projectile yet, instead, use the power to feel it. Now gently lock the energy around the ball." After a second, "That is enough pressure. Lift gently upward." The ball shot up for twenty feet or so before he managed to get it stopped. "Gently. Gently," she cautioned as she released her control for him to try it alone. "Now move the ball downward and return it to its cradle..."

Jeff nudged the power downward. Suddenly, there was a smoking hole in the ground a few feet in front of him and chunks of dirt rained down on the table and Jeff. "Shit!" he exclaimed aloud.

"Gently!" the Ship admonished.

"That was gentle," he griped.

In response, she sent him a picture of a cave man wielding a sledgehammer.

"Cavemen didn't have sledgehammers," he responded a bit grumpily. "I guess if they had anything like that, it would have been sledge rocks."

She sent him an image of a caveman wielding a big rock attached to a stick.

"Very funny – not."

The Ship's mental snickering didn't help his feelings one bit. Refusing to acknowledge her amusement, he took another ball from the box and began again.

Art, his wives and Hope, returned their cold weather gear to the basement, then went to the suite. As soon as they stepped in the door, they stopped to stare.

"Welcome," Jennie, Ann and Melissa said as one.

"Wow," Art let out as he stared at the three young women all dressed in black and white waiter's garb. The couches and seats had been pushed against the walls, and a nice dining table now sat in the middle of the room.

"Wash up," Jennie advised. "Your meal will be served shortly."

"We three will use the bathroom in here. Why don't you use the one just down the hallway?" Sandra quietly said to her husband.

"Uh, yeah. That'll work," the young agent responded as he thought, How long can it take for the three of them to freshen up before my turn? And why is it that women never seem to go to the bathroom alone? Oh, well. Turning, he went out the door and down the hall.

As their repast progressed, Art kept wondering if Sandra and Bobby had known about the meal prior to Arlene telling all of them about it, but with Hope present, he was reluctant to ask. It was obvious that Hope was enjoying herself and the attention Jeff's young wives were showing her.

The last course was served and eaten as well as a light dessert. Jeff's three young wives, refusing help, cleared the table to the serving cart. Jennie made a call. Shortly, Jeff and Dave came in, grinning, and removed the table. Jennie, Ann and Melissa kissed each of them on the cheek and left with the serving cart. There was silence as the three moved the furniture back into place, no one quite knowing what to say. When the quiet lengthened, Art cleared his throat to speak, but instead, Bobby and Sandra took Hope's hands for a moment, then turned to look at their husband.

"Hope has a present for you," Bobby said, her voice bubbly.

"Present?" he stumbled out.

"It's in the bedroom," Hope offered. Then, "Oh, my goodness, I really..."

"Too late to get cold feet now," Bobby teased. "Grab his hand and let's go show it to him."

Hope, her face already starting to color, held out her hand to Art. "Come on before I chicken out."

Inside the bedroom, a moment later, they stood looking at the wall where a picture frame hung with its back to them. Art was beginning to get an inkling of what was going on – or so he thought.

"Well, that's a nice frame, even the back of it," he teased.

"Hope," Sandra said, motioning toward the picture. "It's your place to turn it."

The three young women moved closer, with Sandra and Bobby taking up positions on either side of the picture frame, leaving Hope to stand in front of it. Thinking about what she had done, she hesitated for a second, her blush deepening.

"Do it," Bobby encouraged. "He'll love it."

Hope took a breath, then quickly turned the picture frame, portrait outward. After spending a couple of seconds making sure it was hanging level, she turned and moved aside, dreading to look Art in the eye.

Art had reasoned that the frame held one of Hope's sketches, and was prepared to tell her how nice it was ... when the impact of the portrait hit him. Frozen for a moment, he stood in awe, mute, as his mind took in the colored sketch of his two nude wives. In the picture, their amused expressions were that of women who had a tantalizing secret that only they knew. They were standing turned partially toward each other as if they had been walking together, each with an arm around the other, Bobby's left breast and Sandra's right one were just touching. The free breast of each woman showed a very erect nipple. The impression was that they had just realized that the viewer was watching and were in the process of turning toward him. Were they going to share their secret?