Ten years later...
17ABY
Corporate Sector: D'ian System: Gellar Estate
The images comes in waves. Places she does not know and has never been. Then he is there, the boy, who has no name but somehow she knows him. He is not overly tall with broad shoulders, light brown hair, pale blue eyes and a button nose. His smile is a bit lopsided and cute as he gazes back at her as if amused. They are approximately close in age as far as she can tell, still children really. His clothes are simple, creased jumpsuit and work boots, in stark contrast to her expensive blouse and perfectly hemmed slacks. She moves toward him when the periphery darkens with shadows that begin to close in all around them. The shadows take a more human form, large and foreboding, that reach out with fearfully sharp claws.
Gemma Masterton wakes up screaming.
Celeste bolts into the room quickly, falling beside her on the bed.
"Sweetie," she calls softly. "Sweetie, you are safe. You are alright."
Gemma shivers and clings to her mother, "They are going to get us!"
"Who? Who is going to get you?"
"Them."
Celeste holds her, brushing the golden curls away from her flushed face. These nightmares have been happening for years. They started as infrequent unpleasant dreams which have become more of a regular occurrence. Gemma always wakes up terrified, usually screaming or calling out about being chased by hooded figures with claws. And it is not just her. For most of her life, Gemma has dreamed of a boy she claims to know. When Celeste would ask her who this boy is, Gemma would only say that he is "the forth."
Celeste had spent many nights discussing this with Rutherford. Neither could piece it together. They lived in such an insular community that everyone pretty much knew everyone else at least by name or reputation. If it was a boy at school, Gemma would know his name. This boy, it seems, was somewhat of a familiar stranger to their daughter. The term "forth" brought back jarring memories from the past. "The Four" is what they called Melanie and her friends both at school and in the media. What made sense back then now stirs up confusion. There are only three - Gemma, Dane and Dahlia.
As far as they know, there is no forth.
So, who is this boy and why is he haunting their daughter?
Gemma's breathing returns to normal and Celeste kisses her forehead.
"Come on, my darling. We have to get ready for school."
Kylie Miranda dutifully enters the room, opening the curtains and laying out Gemma's school uniform - pleated navy blue skirt, fitted white polo, blue cardigan with a golden V on the breast, white knee socks with a thick blue stripe on the top, and a white and navy ascot.
Valor Prep had one of the most stringent dress codes Celeste has ever seen, one which Dahlia consistently pushed the limits of. While Dane and Gemma are only eleven, Dahlia is officially a teenager at thirteen and prone to more of the typical rebellious behaviors. Dane is very much a Gellar, all swagger and innuendo. Gemma, heartbreakingly, reminds her so much of Melanie with the wide blue eyes and gentle ways. Dahlia is nearly an even mix of Karen and Alexia Winton - vain but aggressive yet still remarkably charismatic. Celeste has loved watching these qualities come out in all her children as they have grown. She finds the most exciting time for any mother is watching their children's personalities develop.
Once Kylie has finished dressing Gemma and styling her hair, they head downstairs to meet the rest of the family.
Dane is hunched over a large datapad, skimming the headlines just like his father. His uniform varies slightly from the girls - fitted white button up, navy and gold tie, navy slacks, optional navy sport coat - that he looks like a business man in training. It always makes Celeste smile to watch him emulate his father's morning routine.
Dahlia storms into the kitchen full of angst. Rutherford had vetoed the bared mid drift now exposed when she tricked one of the service droids into shrinking her polo. After changing into another set, she accentuated the basic colors with bright bangle bracelets, hoop earrings and a dab of darker lipstick. Strangely enough, the ensemble worked, proving Dahlia's natural inclination toward fashion. It must be genetic, Celeste thinks, and decides not to press the issue.
Breakfast is served by a series of droids - toast, fresh fruit, juice and cereal - and the kids eat in relative silence. Celeste enjoys a steaming cup of tea with citrus as she reviews the schedule for the day ahead. After school, Gemma has choir and Dane has Chin-Bret practice. Dahlia will be working on a project at her friend Muriel's house. The driver enters the kitchen, signaling that it is time to go. Celeste walks them out to the hoverlimo idling in the massive wraparound stone driveway. She kisses each of them goodbye and watches as they pile in. She waves as the limo pulls away then returns to the house feeling as though the morning went well. Usually there is at least a little protesting from the children but their routine has been in place from the get-go and by now, it has become almost a second nature.
Rutherford is in his study and she raps lightly on the doorframe. He glances up and smiles, still taken with her charm and beauty. She has made him a better person and after a decade of marriage, the passion still remains. He pulls her into his arms and kisses her softly.
"The children get off okay?"
She nods, "Without so much as a peep."
"I'm impressed."
"Well, Dahlia is in a bit of a mood."
He groans, "Valor Prep would have expelled her for exposing that much skin. You know how they feel about sexualizing the children."
"You don't have to tell me," she says. "I agree completely. She is just testing limits. Surely you remember this stage in development. Adolescence is a whole different game."
"It's been a while since I've been around teenagers but I catch on pretty quick for an old guy."
"Hey, that's my husband you are talking about."
Rutherford grins, "Indeed it is. I've got to get going. There are several client meetings this afternoon."
"How is that coming along?"
"I believe we can satisfy all our investors. This new painkiller, Capra, should continue the company's growth on the heels of the Force vaccine success. There is nothing else like it."
Celeste laughs.
"Timed release, easily adjusted dosage, massive success from the trials? I think you have another hit on your hands."
"Let's hope so. Do you have any clients today?"
"Two," she says. "I think the bi-weekly sessions are helping."
"Therapy usually does if you let it."
"I'm glad you think so."
"Are you going to be okay?"
"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"
He frowns sharply, pausing.
"You know what next week is."
"Yes, I do."
"If you want to talk about it-"
"I'll be fine, Rutherford. I promise."
He nods, kissing her again before heading back downstairs to his shuttle.
"You know where to find me."
Celeste pads down the hall to her own office and sits in the comfortable reclining chair. She reviews her client files for the upcoming sessions and the notes she made from previous conversations. She withdraws the thin stylus and writes herself a reminder to address certain topics to explore deeper issues hidden beneath the surface. It is then that her own begin to creep into the corners of her mind. She knows exactly what next week is.
It is the ten year anniversary of the Battle at Centerpoint Station.
-TBC
