Hello, my name is Charles.  I grew up believing that my family were leaders among men.  I grew up believing I was worth more than others.  Then one day my mind connected the dots between two facts and a new worldview appeared to me.  I was lost between two worlds, and didn’t know which way to go.  Some people ask God for guidance in times like that.  I have always been the kind who finds friends to talk to.  Even before I became a Cowboy, I have always had friends I would trust my life with.

 

 

Lost

 

The shuttle left the gleaming-white Guardian Light behind, dropping down towards New Earth under full gravity control.  It amazed Charles just how silently the small Peloran shuttle could move.  It was far more silent than any American shuttle he’d ever flown in.  Even when it entered the atmosphere it remained utterly silent, the dull roar that usually accompanied that rush of air past the hull absent.  The shuttle made an effortless, last seconds slow to a halt and bumped against the landing field.

Charles came to his feet, grabbed his white cowboy hat off its hook, and turned to the other Cowboys.  “And we’re here, everybody,” Charles said with a smile.  “Check your uniforms before debarking.  I want everybody looking good out there.”  He placed the cowboy hat on his head and began to wave his soldiers out.

“Oorah,” The Cowboys responded with some chuckles.

Charles double-checked his Dress Whites, pulling a suspicious hair off one sleeve, and watched the Cowboys walk down the aisle.  One cyber after another jumped off her pilot’s shoulder, growing to full size on the way down, and preceded them out.  Charles heard Jack humming the clown car song and the other Cowboys began to laugh.  Charles brought his hand up and bit his finger to keep himself from laughing.

“Shut it, Jester!” Charles shouted after getting his voice most of the way under control.  He then coughed into his white glove to keep it clear.

“Aye, aye, Chief,” Jack answered with a wink.

Charles shook his head and waved them out, watching both cybers jump down.  He frowned in thought and waved the other Cowboys past him.  He followed them out last, Dorothy jumping down to the deck to lead him out in her Dress Whites.  She looked different in white.  He pursed his lips, considering that she looked better in white than her preferred black.

He followed her down the ramp, onto the landing field, and turned to look at the gleaming-white shuttle.  The hatch closed, the shuttle rose up on silent gravity, rotated to point straight up, and flashed into the sky with an acceleration rate only a craft that could control gravity itself could manage.  Charles frowned up after the shuttle, his mind considering a great many things about that.  Jack walked over and stopped next to him.

“Hey Chief.”

Charles took in a deep breath and lowered his gaze to meet Jack’s  “Jester.”  He didn’t feel like more of Jack’s small talk.

As usual, Jack ignored his wishes.  “Old home week?”

Charles cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes.  “My family has business interests here.  Why?”

Jack shrugged.  “Just wondering if you’re off to visit them?”

Charles shook his head and turned away from Jack.  “Cowboys!” he shouted to all the soldiers on the landing field.  “Be back here in thirty-six hours, ready to fly.  Liberty begins…now.”

The Cowboys shouted a hearty “Oorah!” and turned to walk towards the main terminal not far away.

“No,” Charles said, back in his normal conversational tone.

Jack blinked, obviously taking a second to realize Charles had answered his question.  “Why?”

Charles sighed, considering the shuttle again.  “I’ve got something more important to do.”  He looked up after the departing shuttle again, now a pinpoint of light so far up even his eyes could barely see it.

“Ah.”  Jack smiled.  “Good call then.  I’m sure you wouldn’t want old Aunt Bessie’s Fruitcake.”

“Hell no!” Charles said without hesitation.

“Well, if you’re interested, you can always go shopping with us,” Jack said with a wave towards Betty and Jasmine.

Charles allowed a shudder of horror to escape.  “No thanks.”

Jack spread his arms out wide in a “how bad could it be?” gesture.  “Come on, man, share the danger?  We’ve flown into certain death together.  This can’t possibly be that bad…”

Charles shook his head, feeling the irrepressible urge to rib the man that Jack must have felt most of the time.   He produced a wicked smile reserved only for poor and innocent victim of a horrible fate.   “Accompanying women on a shopping trip is a fate worse than death.  I will mourn your passing,” he said.

Jack held his hands out in a defensive gesture.  “Hey, they’re cybers.  No bags to carry.”

Charles shook his head again.  For all his street smarts, Jack had some serious holes in his knowledge.  “Good luck with that,” he said the wicked grin still solidly in place.

Jack shrugged and turned to walk away.  He stopped cold and spun back to Charles.  “Hey, if something important comes up, call me,” he said in a momentarily sincere tone.

Charles examined him.  It appeared the man wasn’t as naïve as he sometimes acted.  Charles nodded in thanks.  “Thank you for the offer.  I will keep it in mind.  Now go enjoy your liberty.”

“Yes, sir!” Jack shouted back with a jaunty salute, and turned to amble away, determined to have fun.  He stepped between Betty and Jasmine, reached his arms out to grab each of them around the waist, pulled them along with him.  “Come on, girls.  We’ve got some fun to track down.”

“Yes, Jack,” they chorused in matching amused tones.

Charles shook his head, wondering if Jack truly realized that he’d just adopted another cyber.  Either that or she had adopted him.  He shared a look with Dorothy, wondering which way that counted, and silently wished the trio luck.  He followed the three then and made his slow way towards the terminal as well, eyes scanning every ship moving up and down from the landing field.

He walked into the terminal and saw the Christmas decorations filling it from one end to the other, from floor to ceiling.  It truly was an impressive collection of Christmas trees covered in lights, Yule logs burning in fireplaces, and man-sized candy canes hanging from lights.  Santa’s sleigh flew through the air above everybody’s heads, pulled by nine little reindeer, with Santa waving at the people below.  A nativity scene nestled against one wall, just outside the main traffic pattern so it could escape the arriving passengers intact.  And a Christmas carol played from speakers embedded throughout the terminal, bringing tidings of good cheer to the arriving passengers.

“Wow,” Charles whispered and began to make his way through the crowd of passengers walking out of a boarding ramp connected to another craft.  Dorothy turned and smiled, agreeing with him.  They made their way to the exit, stepped out, and Charles scanned the Christmas-decorated city street before them.  “How do we get there again?”

“That way,” Dorothy said with a wave of her hand.

Charles followed her wave beneath the Christmas lights and wreaths.  They didn’t speak more than some occasional directions on their way.  Charles had never been one for small talk, and in that way Dorothy matched him perfectly.  She was always there, watching, waiting, ready to help.  That was the important part of being a partner.  They turned a corner and Charles whistled at the sight before them.  A grand stone cathedral towered into the air above them.  Arches held up the entryway roof that protected the massive wooden doors from the weather.  A cross crowned the peak of the roof, and a massive bell tower reached up into the sky from the side of the building.  It was a truly grand cathedral that reminded him of some of the finest New England churches he’d seen.

As they approached the front door, he saw a small nativity scene off to the side.  He got closer and realized it was human-scale and gulped as he put the cathedral into its correct scale.  “Wow,” he whispered again.  Dorothy smiled again but continued to keep pace with him.  “You are certain this is where he is?” Charles asked.

“Yes,” she answered and cocked her head to the side in amusement.

Charles let out a long breath as they finally reached the steps and walked up them.  The doors opened with the perfect creak of wood on iron hinges that he expected to hear from a building that looked half a millennium old.  That it could not possibly be more than two centuries old was all the more impressive.  Somebody had taken extreme care in crafting this building.  They walked into the grand cathedral and Charles heard his footsteps echo on the smooth stone floor, bouncing off the walls and ceiling far above him.  His eyes scanned up to see the sun shining in through stained glass windows showing scenes from the Bible.  He recognized Noah’s Ark and several scenes with Jesus, but not many of the others.

“Wow,” he said one more time, and his voice echoed through the solemn building.  This was easily a match for any cathedral he’d been to back home.  Not that he’d had many occasions to go to them, other than marriages and funerals.  He walked to the front of the sanctuary, past row after row of hard wood pews that had to be a pain to sit in.  They looked to be the same pews he remembered from Uncle Theodore’s funeral, the ones that kept him sitting straight up and unable to relax.  He gritted his teeth, assuming that the priests or pastor or whoever that had been liked it that way.  He hadn’t thought John would be one of them though.  He gritted his teeth and sat down in the front pew, looking up at the massive cross on the wall behind the choir stands.  He blinked and looked at Dorothy in surprise.  The pew was perfectly carved, comfortable to sit on.

She smiled at him in amusement again and sat down on his right.  He gritted his teeth, not entirely pleased at the idea of being so amusing to her, but seeing the humor of the situation.

The man Charles had come to see walked into the sanctuary in a simple black suit.  He smiled at Charles with a warm gaze and spread his arms out in a welcoming gesture.  “How can I hel-” he froze in mid sentence, staring at Charles, and recognition filled his eyes.  “Chuck!” he shouted, happiness filling his voice, and rushed forward.

“John,” Charles said to his old friend.

John sat down on his left and shook his hand with joy.  “I always hoped I’d see you in here.”

Charles clasped his friend’s hand in a firm grip, holding it for a few seconds.  “I know.”

John pulled his hand away and leaned back into the pew with a smile.  “So what brings you here?”

“Questions.”

John gave him a speculative look.  “We all have questions, but somehow I didn’t expect you coming here with them.”

Charles shrugged.  “I wasn’t really coming here.  I was coming to you.”

“Ah,” John said in understanding.  “I must warn you that my answers may not please you.”

“I know,” Charles said.  “But I trust you.”

Chuck nodded.  “You can trust me with anything.”  He spread his hands out wide again.  “So what questions do you have?”

Charles chewed his lower lip, considering how to say it.  Then he sighed and bulled right in.  “Have you dealt with the aliens out here?”

John pursed his lips and let out a long breath.  “Well, I’ve dealt with the Peloran of course.  I’ve met one of the Arnam too, but they don’t travel this far much.  I’ve also talked with a Roderan that came this way a time or two.  Not many alien converts yet, you know.  Why do you ask?”

Charles pursed his lips.  “My family has…extensive business interests.”

John’s lips thinned in displeasure.  “I know,” he said in the closest thing to a cool tone he’d used since seeing Charles.

Charles shook his head.  “I…I suppose you would.”

John waved that away as water under the bridge and smiled again.  “What are you beating around the bush about?”

Charles matched his smile, happy to have a friend he could turn to.  “I’m trying to figure out if the names they give us are truly their names or…if they are choosing names to make us think they are something they aren’t.”

John blinked and Charles could see the wheels turning in his mind.  After a few seconds, John frowned and looked directly at Charles.  “You lost me.  Could you start from the beginning, please?  I have the feeling this is important.”

Charles smiled.  He’d gotten his friend’s attention.  That was good.  He would need it.  “My family sent negotiators to the Roderan homeworld.  It is named Svarga.”

John rubbed his jaw and nodded.  “OK.  I gather that means something to you.  What?”

Charles leaned back in the pew.  He had John.  Now he just had to pull him in.  “I’ve done some research, and it just so happens that Rod and Svarga were ancient Slavic gods worshiped in what is now Russia before that came in and took over,” he finished with a wave at the cross.

“Oh,” John said in a voice that suggested deep contemplation.  “That’s…interesting.”

Charles smiled.  “Yes.  Then there are the Peloran and the Arnam.”

John frowned.  “What about them?”

Charles cleared his throat.  “The people who created them came from a planet called Albion, and the name the Peloran call them is the People of Danaan.”

John’s frown deepened, and Charles saw him pull something out of a deep memory.  “Isn’t Albion another name for…the British Isles?”

Charles chuckled, impressed that John had remembered that little datum.  “Yes it is.  The People of Danaan settled in Ireland possibly…four thousand years ago according to our histories.  It is also in some traditions a name given to the Otherworld, literally another world that the Celts sometimes found themselves traveling to.”

John rubbed his jaw in deep thought.  “That’s…very interesting.  I suppose this ties into the Shang’s arrival, doesn’t it?”

Charles nodded in approval.  “Yes.”

John licked his lips, looking a uncomfortable with the discussion.  “I thought that was ruled a hoax.”

Charles smiled.  “It was ruled a hoax, by the best experts Washington could buy.  You know my family owns HW News, right?”

John nodded.

“Well, I’ve seen the order to the media to report the hoax.  I’ve also seen the original transmission and all the tracking information our satellites could generate on it.  It came from the Shang fleet, not from that rogue satellite.”

“Damn.  Sorry, Lord.”  John said with a glance towards the cross.  He turned back to Charles and shook his head.  “So are you going to say that something called the Shang actually were on Earth in the past?”

Charles smiled.  “Very close.  It was the Shangdi.  The Emperors of the Shang Dynasty of ancient China were supposedly sons of Shangdi, the ultimate god of their mythology.”

John sighed and covered his eyes with one hand.  “Why didn’t anybody report that when the Shang first arrived?” he asked in a pained voice.

Charles let out a long breath.  “They did.  In China.  From what I’ve uncovered on American news sources, they tried.  But every fax and cast that did got hacked and burned.  The rest fell in line pretty quick.”

John frowned.  “How do you know this?”

Charles gave John a dangerous smile.  “Because one of the hackers that did the burning is on my father’s permanent payroll.

John’s frown turned angry.  “You’re describing an organized disinformation campaign by the government about the Shang,” he said in a dangerous tone that Charles well remembered from their youth.

Charles aimed a firm nod at his friend.  “Yes, I am.  The Shang did tell us that they are the Shangdi that the Chinese worshiped in the past.  They did tell us that they have returned.  I have seen the proof that they told us that.  Either they are telling us the truth, or they are lying.  I intend to find out which.”

John set his teeth and looked up at the cross.  “If they were lying, then our course is pretty clear.  We tell them to stuff it, right?”

Charles smiled as the shadow of the man John had once been slipped through the calm pastoral form he took now.  “Right.”

John turned back to him with a grim look.  “The other possibility is a bit more tricky.”

Charles met his look without any hesitation.  “That’s an understatement.”

John sighed.  “And you’re here, talking to me, because you’re looking for…what…guidance?  From me?”

Charles smiled and pulled in a deep breath before answering.  “Yes.”

John turned to Dorothy.  “You have anything to add to this conversation?”

Dorothy shook her head.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know.”

John frowned.  “You’re a cyber.  Don’t you have access to history from the Peloran perspective?”

Dorothy shook her head again.  “Not really.  I was born Terran, so what I remember is Terran history, not Peloran.  I’m not…cleared to know the Peloran histories.  I could ask the Peloran members of my family, but…I’d get the same answer anybody else gets when they ask.”

“No answer at all,” Charles supplied when John looked curious.  “They neither confirm nor deny any question about whether they were watching us before they made Contact.  Or if anybody else was.  And trust me, we’ve asked.  All those stories about UFOs pretty much guaranteed we would ask them.  Now we know they have limited contact with a large number of nations out there beyond our furthest explorations, but there are two difficulties in tracking them down.  First, they are so far away that Terran-made hyperdrives fail long before we could reach them, and Peloran hyperdrives are…hard to acquire even for my family.  Secondly, the Peloran use names based on who a people came from, not the race of the people.  The Albion were the People of Danaan, which actually tracks with some of our mythologies.  The Peloran are the People of Govaan, which does not track with any known myths that I’ve found.  We are the People of Awdaan, which is surprisingly similar to one of ours.”

“Adam,” John whispered, a thread of pleasure in his voice.

Charles smiled at the slim thread he’d given his friend.  “Presumably.”

John frowned.  “So do they call the Chinese that?”

Charles frowned as well.  “As a race, yes, but from a cultural perspective, they are called the People of Huang.  He was the first great Chinese Emperor who united China.”

“Interesting.  So what do they call us?”

Charles smiled.  “The People of Washington.”

John chuckled.  “I should have seen that coming, I suppose.”

“Yes, you should have,” Charles said with an answering chuckle.

John clicked his tongue against his teeth in deep thought.  “It occurs to me that naming a people like that would require a deep understanding of their history.  It could take some time to develop that.”

Charles smiled again, glad to see the mind of his friend fully engaged in the discussion.  “Yes.  Do you remember that Aneerin spoke perfect English and several other languages when he made Contact?  They were obviously watching us long enough to learn our languages.  Now I have a theory that they may have been watching us at least as far back as the twentieth century, but it’s just a theory that matches some questionable reports from the past with what we know now..”

John chewed his lower lip.  “Tell me.”

Charles cleared his throat.  “You ever heard of the Foo Fighters?”

John gave him a confused look.  “The rock band?”

Charles coughed to disguise a laugh.  “The things the rock band named themselves after.”

John’s eyes narrowed.  So he hadn’t fooled his friend.  “Then, no I haven’t.”

Charles pulled in a deep breath.  “Well, back during World War II, there were…reports from Allied and German pilots of craft that flew in formation with them.  The Allies called them Foo Fighters because they couldn’t figure out what they were.”  Charles shrugged.  “They actually had another word on the front, but you probably don’t want me saying it here,” he said with a wink.

John chuckled.  “I’ll trust your instincts on that.”

Charles gave him an innocent shrug.  “Anyways, these Foo Fighters never opened fire on either side, they just flew with them for a while, matched every move the pilots of the time tried, and then flashed away whenever they felt like it.  They did things only a craft with gravitic controls could manage.  Now these are just reports and stories, but…they were usually cigar-shaped, almost always with small fins or wings.”

John’s eyes widened and he rubbed his jaw in thought.  “Cigar-shaped?”

Charles nodded.  “A big long tube with some fins for weapons or wings.”  Charles lifted one hand up.  “Now most reports had them as silver, not white, but I’m betting you recognize the shape.”

“The Peloran,” John supplied.

“The Peloran,” Charles agreed.

“Damn.  Sorry, Lord,” he said with another glance at the cross.

Charles shook his head.  “If those reports were real and it really was the Peloran…”

“How much longer have they been watching us?” John filled in after Charles trailed off.

Charles raised one finger.  “Exactly.”

John shook his head.  “I don’t know.  It seems like a mouthful to accept.”

Charles shrugged.  “Arthur C. Clark said it long ago.  Advanced enough technology might as well be magic to the poor primitives.”

John nodded.  “Yeah, that makes sense, and I can even see it, from a theoretical point of view of course,” he noted with a stern look.

Charles smiled, accepting the conditions of the argument with good grace.

John cleared his throat.  “What I’m wondering about is…why did they leave?”

Charles blinked in confusion.  “What?”

John sighed.  “Let’s put it this way.  If you were a great and all powerful alien who is worshiped as a god, would you let some crazy cult show up and take all your believers from you?  And then spread out to all corners of the world, and beyond?”

Charles cleared his throat.  It was a good point.  “Look, we know the Albion died so that explains that.  As for the rest?  Well…the Peloran talk as if civilization died with the Albion.  Trade of goods and information alike.  Thousands of systems were destroyed, countless ships, and even they can’t begin to calculate how many people died.  Maybe everybody just stopped coming here.”

John shook his head.  “No.  I don’t buy that.  Even one ship that came to Earth even a hundred years ago could easily rule us all.  One survivor of that war could have lived as a god here.  And if they’d been here before, they’d know how to get here.”

“That’s a good point,” Charles whispered.  He let out a long breath and chewed his lower lip.  “You may not like this, but a couple thousand years ago we did have a pretty important person show up and say he was the Son of God.”

John shook his head again.  “You’re right.  I don’t like that idea.”

“I’m just taking the discussion to the end point,” Charles said with an apologetic smile.

John smiled back.  “I know.  But there is a problem with the idea.  And not just from a reactionary theologian,” he added with a wink.

Charles relaxed back into the pew and waved for John to continue.

John licked his lips.  “If God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit were just some alien space traveler playing with the local population, why haven’t they returned?  Face it, Chuck, a glowing man floating down from the sky would be an easy illusion to generate with Peloran technology.  Even now, most of us would probably fall for it, but realistically they should have pulled it two or three centuries ago at the latest.  After World War II or the Second Great Depression would be the time to do it.  The Peloran have the tech to pull it off but they didn’t try.  If what you say is accurate, the Shang did try it, but only after the Peloran made Contact so it didn’t stick.  Why didn’t they try earlier, when it might have worked?  If they’ve been coming here for thousands of years, why not take advantage of those times to show everybody that the old gods have true power?  Christianity would have had some real hard times expanding into many of the places we did if the locals could point to things they’d actually seen their gods do in their own lifetimes.”

Charles rubbed his chin and nodded.  “You’ve got some good points there.”  He shook his head.  “Look, you know it all better than me, but Jesus’ teachings weren’t big on taking power and ruling people, were they?”

John chuckled.  “No.  They weren’t.  More like being better people.  Being nice to people.  Helping when they need it.  Not judging.  Not what I’d expect an alien with delusions of grandeur wanting people to worship him would talk about.”

“Indeed,” Charles said with a smile.

“Teachings like that don’t gain some alien who doesn’t know us a thing as far as I can tell.  But someone who already knows us and wants us to become better?  That is someone who would say those things.”

“True,” Charles said slowly.

John smiled.  “So, did you really come here for an academic discussion?”

Charles sighed and shook his head.  “Not really.  Look, I don’t know what to do.  I know what my family wants me to do.  But I just don’t think I can…” he trailed off and chewed his lower lip.

John nodded and patted his friend’s shoulder.  “We all have those moments, Chuck.  I had mine five years ago.”  He smiled.  “And see where I am now.  Look, Chuck, there’re a lot of people who think they have the power and the right to rule us like gods, to demand our worship, our offerings, and our sacrifices.  I do not say they have no power.  I say they aren’t worthy of us standing with them.”

“Smart,” Charles said with a nod.

John smiled.  “Let’s accept that the Shang tried to get us to follow them.  We said no.  They smote us.  We’re still standing.  A hundred years ago, we never could have stood against them.  But today, the Peloran stand with us.  Why?  What do they gain from fighting with us?  What have they asked in return?”

Charles smiled.  “So far, just me.”

John blinked and pulled back in confusion.

“The Cowboys.  We fly off the Guardian Light.  Aneerin asked for that after the Battle of Fort London.”

John smiled in understanding and steepled his fingers, considering things for several seconds before answering.  “What does he gain by doing that?”

“Well, he’s taken heavy losses in his fighter groups, so we are helping to keep his squadron in the war.”

“Yes, that would be the foremost reason, the public reason, the reason that can be sent to the media so everything can look good to the civilians.  Do you know another reason?”

Charles pursed his lips and shook his head.  “No.  Perhaps…understanding?  I’ve learned more about them in the last month than the rest of my life put together.”

John shook his head.  “That is how it helps you.  How does it help him?”

“Well, maybe he wants us to understand them better.”

“Possibly.  Do you want to bank our survival on that guess?” John asked with a frown.

Charles scratched his chin.  “Well, I suppose not.”

“Good.  I only see one source of action here, Chuck,” John said with a nod of approval.  “If what you say is true, we know what the Shang.  They want us to serve them.  We don’t know what the Roderan want, but they’ve been on the edges for a while.  We know what the Peloran say they want.  But is that true?  They have serious power.  We have to know if they really are here to help us or if they are making us dependent on them and all of their technologies before taking us over,” he finished with a nod towards Dorothy.

“Now hang on,” Charles said, anger that he would suggest that about his partner boiling up.

Dorothy placed a hand on his shoulder and he stopped.

“He makes a good point,” she said in a calming tone.

Charles growled under his breath, not mollified.

John licked his lips and looked between the two for a second.  Charles recognized the concern in his friend’s face, but the John shook his head and it cleared.

“I’m sorry Charles, but it had to be said, assuming we really are going to the end points of this discussion.”

Charles growled again, but finally nodded in reluctant agreement.  “Agreed,” he said in a low tone.

John reached his hand behind the pew and pulled a Bible up.  “Good.  Now you have to find out what they want.  Really want.  And you are in a good position now to do that.  Take this with you.”

Charles gave a firm shake of his head.  “You know I don’t believe all that.”

“I know,” John said with a smile.  “But if you truly want to study about gods and men, you really have to study some of the source material.”

Charles looked at it doubtfully.  “I suppose.  But I can get an portable copy for study.”

John chuckled.  “Ah, but I practice throwing a real book at people when they need it.  Real paper makes an impact that electrons never will.  Take it, Chuck.  Read it.  There’s a lot of information in these pages that can be helpful.  A favor for an old friend.”

Charles shifted uncomfortably on the pew and looked at Dorothy.

She shifted her head to the side and smiled, signaling her agreement.

Charles sighed and reached to take the Bible out of John’s hands.  He shook his head and looked at it with a raised eyebrow.  “So if I’m looking for some information in this, where would I start?”

John laughed and tapped the leather cover with one finger.  “Why, ‘In the beginning’ of course.”

Charles shook his head and pushed himself up onto his feet.  “Right.  I should have seen that coming.”

“Yes.  You should have,” John said with a smile.  Then he turned serious.  “He’ll know you came.”

Charles blinked at the change in subject, then nodded.  There was really only one “He” when it came to his family.  “Yes.”

John looked grim.  “He doesn’t like me much.  He won’t be happy.”

Charles sighed.  “No, I don’t suppose He will be.”

John put a hand on Charles’ shoulder.  “If your family is as involved as you seem to think, he may force you to choose between family and the investigation.  If that happens…”

Charles placed his hand on top of John’s and smiled.  “I know who to call.”  Very few people had the resources to anger his father and not disappear afterwards.  John was one of those very few.  He hadn’t always been a shepherd of men after all.

John smiled.  “Good.  Now get going, old friend.  You have work to do.”

Charles rose to his feet with a smile of his own.  “Yes, I do, old friend.”