The Star
Renewed hope and faith
Chapter Eighteen
Helen's Star
The command was barely a thought—a whisper flung into the ether and aimed at the hidden sinews of the market itself. With it sent, Jim surrendered to sleep, abdicating his waking hours like a king laying down a crown.
Helen moved through the stateroom like a phantom, her steps silenced by an unspoken pact. A predatory smile—sharp, deliberate—played across her lips as she met Antiope’s steady gaze. The cabin door sighed shut behind her, sealing them within. She breathed in the room: woodsmoke, salt, and the tension clinging to Jim like a second skin. Her eyes swept the space and settled on him at last—a being of immense power, momentarily unmoored by slumber. The ceremonial candles had been placed with care; their flames danced with unsettling intent, weaving a quiet net that brushed the edges of Jim’s consciousness.
He stirred, as though roused from some vast depth. The world returned to him imperfectly, slightly askew. Helen’s touch—no more than a suggestion—had already done its work. He was altered, though unaware of how or by whom.
“Only you, Helen,” he murmured, his voice still tangled in dreams.
Her reply came softly, velvet wrapped around steel.
“Do you love me more than Isis, Jim?”
His answer emerged slowly, measured and sincere. He loved her deeply—fiercely—but his devotion was layered, bound by an enduring reverence for Antiope.
“From you,” Helen said at last, smiling, “that is both surrender and declaration of war. And tell me—do you find me the most beautiful woman in this world? Every man I met last night swore I was.”
A tremor passed through him.
“You walk this world, Helen, but you are not of it. No earthly measure can contain you—or Antiope. But to place you above Isis or Aphrodite would be blasphemy.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“So I am not the most beautiful.”
He hesitated, then chose the lie.
“You are. Isis and Aphrodite are phantoms. You are flesh, and you stand here.”
The air tightened.
“But you love me more than Isis?”
“What makes you think I love her at all?”
“I know,” Helen whispered. “As she knows. The bond between you is not subtle.”
Resistance drained from him.
“Whatever you say. Yes. I love you more.”
She laughed—a sound that promised both delight and ruin.
“She bends the world for you, Jim. She gives without limit, and still you waver.”
“Why are you pressing me?” he asked quietly.
“Because you are Qblh,” she said. “My sovereign. My lover. As your subject, I must obey. As your lover, I can bind you. I cannot reconcile the two.”
He reached for her.
“Then don’t. Let go of titles. Be what you are.”
Her smile returned, dangerous and amused.
“Poisoned honey, Jim. You always know the taste that tempts.”
“Antiope,” he replied, “is a deeper vintage.”
Her eyes flashed.
“We are twins of the same fire. How could you mistake me for her when Morgana bound you? Can you truly tell one sacred stream from another?”
He exhaled.
“I wanted it to be you. That was my failing.
”
“Where does that leave us now?” she asked.
“To Palestine,” he said. “To the cradle of forgotten empires.”
Her interest stirred.
"That is pretty close. I wanted to go to the Eastern Mediterranean; but I was thinking more of Greece."
"It's in the general vicinity, we'll be leaving for the past from there, and rematerializing in about the same location, but a few thousand years earlier."
“And Troy?”
He smiled faintly.
“First, we understand why it fell.”
"Are you going to give me Troy, Jim?"
"Is that what you want?"
"You know it is, sweetheart."
"Well then, if we are to do that; perhaps we should try to see what all the fighting is all about. I hardly believe that it was over a woman."
"What do you think it was about, Jim?"
"It was about the demise of a very ancient regime and culture. Troy controlled access to the Black Sea, much the same as the Ottomans controlled the Eastern trade routes during the Middle Ages. Another city, Constantinople, shared Troy's fate, but in this case Asia regained control of the straits. The Trojans somehow employed the help of the Amazon race to control this region until Helen, and the Amazons ceased to exist."
"Now Jim, I don't remember reading that."
"Genie told me that."
"Jim is there something else, you're not telling me?"
"Yes, but in due time."
"Oh, Antiope wants a favor. She wants Genie to give her a wish."
"What sort of wish?”
"She wants her stock price to go back up. She says that they are selling off her stock."
"Oh, oh! That is not good. But I don't know if I can do anything about that."
"She says that Genie knows of a way."
"Well, if Genie knows of a way., we can do it."
Turning to Genie, he made the command. "Genie, make the market.”
“As you will.”
Antiope also moved with ruthless clarity. She pledged her own shares, then unleashed puts against her company—panic harvested into liquidity. With it, she acquired calls in silence. Genie shaped the climb with surgical precision: one point per hour, agony by design. When the shorts began to break, Antiope demanded the strike.
The console in the stateroom remained lit up as Genie flashed facts and figures allowing Jim to review the details. "These people simply have no faith. You can't say that I didn't warn them. The other market makers are trying to batter us, but they are leaving themselves quite open as we predicted"
"Why is that, Jim?"
"Because they are buying into firms that we are going to put out of business. Earth always underestimates me. America is still slave to oil imports and compromise their values so as to keep secure the flow of that resource. Conservative and traditional investors were getting nervous. and they managed to scare some of your major investors back into their fold, pocketing a little profit in the while."
"I don't understand, Jim." Helen kissed him anyway, and showed her appreciation. Jim hadn't said much, but she was going to have a very nice vacation in the Mediterranean, and Antiope would be happy as well.
"Amazons, Jim. You said Amazons helped Troy. Are you suggesting that they are us?"
"I don't know, Helen, but it is worth a look and see."
"Well, I want to see too."
Helen watched, stunned, as contracts numbered in the thousands. The media convulsed. Energy, salvation, revolution—every myth resurrected at once.
And Antiope Industries promised what the world most wanted to believe: abundance without exclusion.
Jim withdrew as the machine ran on. The weight of what he had allowed settled heavily upon him. He had let them believe he could command time itself.
With a final act of will, he sent Genie—and the crew—into the Mediterranean darkness and surrendered once more to sleep.
On the sun deck, Helen and Antiope planned beneath the brutal light of noon. Monopoly became rehearsal. Strategy became scripture.
And below them, the world trembled—unaware that its story was being rewritten
