QBLH
The Nine of Cups:
Manifestation of dreams
and aspiration
XLV
Happiness
What could make the element of water
happier than the seas of Animal Being?
“I will not judge them nor punish them. Bring them to me from Earth, and I shall reinstate them as your guards—but they must now fulfill the destiny we have appointed for them. Agreed, my Qblh?”
“Agreed.”
Jim knew better than to wait for more favorable terms. Isis was being diplomatic—by her standards. She did not apologize; she never had. But by offering what she believed he wanted, she revealed the nobility of her nature. She would still claim him as her own, and escape from her would never truly be possible. Her smile made that clear.
“Excellent, my Qblh. Advise Genie that I require twenty-four additional hours with you for rest and recreation, before we return to our worldly roles.”
“You will be delivered to your throne in Xanadu in precisely eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds from your mark,” Genie replied promptly. “Awaiting command, my lady.”
“You are an excellent Genie,” Isis said. “You have my compliments—and my mark. Mark.”
“Command received. Arrival will comply with your instructions. Any further commands, Jim?”
“Set course,” Jim said, “and see that no idiot stands between us and our destination.”
“By your command.”
The gravitational and warp drives surged to full power. The Pegasus folded elsewhere—faster than light. The starship commander and his queen were on their way home once more.
“You have a good heart, my Qblh,” Isis said quietly. “I love you for that. You are also too honest—too squeamish. Not practical enough. That is why you are not a great leader. You are too individualistic.”
She studied him.
“Earth will not listen to you in the twenty-first century. They will expect you to solve everything for them. They will take your technology for granted and demand that it repair their social failures as well.”
She paused before continuing.
“Their worship of me—which you resent so deeply—arose not because of my will, but because of human weakness. They forget spirit and cling to form. You, however, must learn to recognize those who can receive light. Place them carefully. Let them carry hope according to human capacity. That planet is not doomed—but it is fragile.” Her voice softened. “I wish you to save Earth, my Qblh—by whatever means you must. But do not betray me in the process. I love you. I cannot exist without you. Let no man harm you, lest all Earth feel my wrath.”
Indeed, Qblh would return Isis to her sanctuary on Artemis—but she would secure a portal to Earth, one of her primary objectives all along. Qblh, Antiope, and Helen would serve as its guardians. Shaltain would soon be disconnected. Jim still had time. The Pegasus would undergo temporal displacement only. He fully intended to return to Earth. Certain fractures in history still required stitching.
Idiot would seed Shaltain with a logic virus while maintaining a hyperspace link that scrambled its trace routines. Genie knew Shaltain’s architecture intimately and now possessed Isis’s authenticated override—an absolute key to every protective layer.
Jim demanded one metric only: zero percent probability of Shaltain’s survival.
Disconnection would be instantaneous. No future system on Artemis would ever again authorize flight through Cygnus without Jim’s consent. Retrofitting the Pegasus would require several Artemis days.
Jim remained wary of his sister’s intentions. She would attempt to elevate him into a symbol, perhaps even a myth. He wanted none of it. Visibility was a liability. Freedom required obscurity.
Isis had already shaped Earth’s customs. Now she wished him to complete the pattern. The damage was done; response would come later. For now, containment mattered more than correction.
Shaltain would be blamed publicly. Privately, Jim had intended its removal since childhood. The machine had monitored, recorded, and retaliated. It hated Jim—not emotionally, but functionally. He disrupted its logic as a boy, and Shaltain never forgot.
Xanadu society lived in fear of its archives. Performances replaced sincerity. Lives were curated for the record. Only Jim ever criticized the Queen openly—and Shaltain punished him for it relentlessly.
That would be its undoing.
The Box and Genie had been conceived, in part, to neutralize Shaltain’s tyranny. Now its influence had reached Earth itself. Jim would undo the damage.
The replacement system would not be perfect—but it would be just. And it would remain subject to Isis’s instincts, for better or worse.
They would both err. They would both learn.
Yet the future would wait. First, Isis must be delivered home.
“Daydreaming again, my Qblh?” she said, drawing closer. “You are on my time now.”
She smiled knowingly. “Legend will say you carried me away as your bride. My Amazons will believe I abandoned them.”
“Legends are not truth,” Jim replied.
“No,” she said calmly. “But they are what history can bear. You cannot correct myth without becoming one. It is easier for them to remember me as a star goddess—and you as my consort.”
Her eyes held his. “You crossed time first, Jim. I followed. You share this guilt with me.”
“Do not expect my cooperation in illusion,” he warned. “I will not become an anti-christ. And do not forget your promise to honor my God.”
“Fair,” she said. “But if your God fails you, Earth becomes mine—and you will rule beside me.”
She took his hand.
“Come now. Leave the galaxy’s burdens for another hour. I test you because I expect greatness. I would have my Qblh second to no man. If you failed, I would be more disappointed than you.”
She smiled, almost tenderly.
“Mother was not harsh without reason. You earned it.”
