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  ERABON PROPHECY TRILOGY

  BOOK ONE

  MYEEM

  RANDY C. DOCKENS

  Myeem

  ©2020 by Randy C. Dockens

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  Published by Carpenter’s Son Publishing, Franklin, Tennessee

  Published in association with Larry Carpenter of Christian Book Services, LLC

  www.christianbookservices.com

  Edited by Robert Irvin

  Cover and Interior Layout Design by Suzanne Lawing

  Printed in the United States of America

  978-1-952025-12-9

  CONTENTS

  PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

  TRITON

  THREADING THE NEEDLE

  DÉJÀ VU MOMENTS

  THROUGH THE GATE

  THE UNKNOWN

  MYEEM

  THE SIX PLANETS

  TESTING

  SELF-DOUBT

  PROVING

  UNEXPECTED FRIENDS

  SPHERE OF CONTEMPLATION

  THE TEMPLE REVELATION

  BELIEVING

  THE COUNCIL

  INSIDE THE MOUNTAIN

  HASHEM ERABON

  MAKING PREPARATIONS

  A’IAH

  USING THE GATES

  EREMIA

  DESPERATE NEED

  THREAT OF WAR

  NEMIT

  BICCA

  IMMERSION OF PROMISE

  SECRET OF EREMIA

  THE ARCHIVES

  THE TEMPLE

  UNEARTHING

  THE DISCOVERY

  NEMIT SANDSTORM

  THE DECISION

  INSIDE THE TEMPLE

  THE WORDS OF ERABON

  NEXT STEPS

  TIME TO LEAVE

  SURPRISE RECEPTION

  PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

  A’iah (ā ī’ ǝ)

  Alpha Centauri (ăl’ fǝ sĕn tȯr’ ē)

  Andromeda (ăn drŏm’ ĕdǝ)

  Aphiah (af’ ēǝ)

  Azu’el (azū ĕl)

  Bicca (bĭk’ kä)

  Bradley (brăd’ lē)

  Ca’eb (kā ĕb’)

  Chaikin (chī’ kĭn)

  Erabon (ĕr’ ǝ bŏn)

  Eremia (ǝr ē’ mēä)

  Felicia (fė lĭsh(ē)ǝ)

  HaShem (hä shĕm’)

  Haynes (hānz)

  Jake (jāk)

  John (jän)

  Kinsey (kĭn’ sē)

  Ko’a (kō’ ǝ)

  Kychis (kī’ chĭs)

  Mashiach (mä’ shē ăk)

  McNamara (măk nǝ mĕr’ ǝ)

  Michael (mī’ kǝl)

  Mictah (mĭk’ tä)

  Myeem (mī ēm’)

  Naftum (năf tŭm)

  Nemit (nĕm’ ĭt)

  Neptune (nĕp’ tyün)

  Nuke (nūk)

  O’em (ō’ ǝm)

  Qerach (kǝr’ ăk)

  Qoftic (kŏf’ tĭk)

  Ramah (rä’ mä)

  Sharab (shăr’ äb)

  Tictuh (tĭc’ tǝ)

  Ti’sulh (tĭ sŭl’)

  Triton (trī’ tǝn)

  Yahushua (yä’ hŭ shū ǝ)

  Y’din (wī dēn’)

  Yohanan (yō’ hă nǝn)

  Za’avan (zā’ ǝ vǝn)

  Dedication

  I would like to dedicate this book to Matt McIlrath. The idea for this series came from some scintillating discussions he and I had over dinner one evening. While our conversations went far and wide, and sometimes verged on the ridiculous, the discussion got me thinking about what kind of God life on another planet would serve if intelligent life did exist there. So, my thanks, Matt, for the genesis of this idea.

  ONE

  TRITON

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  Nuke waited the fifteen seconds it took for his message to transmit to earth and another fifteen for the answer to return. The wait was a pain, but this was better than no communication at all. Being at the corner of the solar system and circling Neptune, communicating with family on Earth—even if delayed—made life tolerable.

  Nuke knew what his mom’s answer to his question would be. He smiled as she appeared onscreen. Everyone said he got his good looks from her. His father had more of a dark complexion and rough look to his face. Nuke could see he had his mother’s high cheekbones, olive-tan-colored complexion, and smile, which always displayed a slight mischievous look. He even inherited her slightly wavy hair.

  In another few moments, he was listening to his mother’s reply: “Yohanan Chaikin, you know there is nothing wrong with you. You’re just unique, just like Yahushua.”

  Nuke laughed to himself. That was always her answer to this question he had asked both of them many times. What others saw in him as abnormal, she only saw as special. He stared out the window as he lay on his bunk and contemplated this. The rings of Neptune loomed across the horizon.

  He focused on his mom. She refused to call him by his nickname, or even his transliterated name, John. If she did, then she would have to admit something was wrong with him. Well . . . at least different from everyone else. He almost didn’t make it into the Academy because of this difference. Thank goodness, the physician in charge at the time persisted to find the cause of his not being able to have an adequate body scan. The doctor found, and used, antiquated medical equipment to pronounce him healthy.

  Nuke ran his right hand over his left arm. His skin felt normal but apparently wasn’t. Somehow, his skin emitted a low electric voltage that interfered with body scans and other medical equipment that relied on visual readings. Because his skin made the doctor’s equipment go haywire, his buddy, Michael, who entered the Academy with him, dubbed him “nuclear” and shortened that to the nickname Nuke. His friend told everyone in their unit and the name stuck. After a time he put this difference out of his mind . . . until he came here to Triton, one of the moons around Neptune. He then had to go through the same tests and explanations all over again. The medic here took him off duty until Nuke’s “antiquated test results,” as he put it, arrived from Earth. Now Nuke waited, confined to quarters.

  “Yohanan, is it really that important to you to be there?” His mother’s eyes watered. “We miss you.”

  Nuke shook his head; he wasn’t sure his father missed him. They were always at odds. His father—his whole family, for that matter—was old school, still looking for Mashiach, the Messiah, to come. When he would pressure his father about this issue, his father’s reply was always the same: It took four thousand years for Mashiach to come the first time. Why would we think he’s late if it takes another four thousand to return? Since the year was 3887, he could never argue that point with his father.

  “And don’t think your father doesn’t miss you,” his mother said. “He will never say so, but I see him every day. He definitely misses you.”

  “Mom, I miss you guys too. But I feel this is where I belong. I’m doing important work—work I love.”

  It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in HaShem, one of the many Hebrew names for God literally meaning The Name, or in his return. But to keep these old customs irritated him to no end. Jerusalem had undergone a lot of changes over the centuries. For the most part, Jerusalem was as modern as any other city. Yet there were sections, like sections where his family lived, where people maintained that their “history” was important to keep. Nuke felt he could no longer be part of that. He had to experience life in this century—not cling to the past. Surely HaShem was God of the future as well as God of the past. Surely.

  Nuke
jumped when he heard a sudden knock on his portal opening.

  Michael laughed. “Jumpy, are we? Cap needs to see you.” He waved for Nuke to join him.

  Nuke turned back to his 2-D video feed. “Mom, sorry. I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon.” He disconnected from the feed knowing that, with the time delay, it was useless to wait for a response.

  He swung his legs over the side of his bunk, slipped his feet into his self-tightening shoes, and followed Michael into the hallway. Michael had been his buddy pretty much his entire life. Both looked similar: about the same height, same semimuscular stature, and dark eyes. The main difference was Michael had dyed his hair a brilliant yellow. Also, Michael was always the more outgoing of the two. Nuke laughed to himself. Michael was the one who usually got them into trouble, and he was the one who figured out how to get them out of it.

  Nuke looked at his yellow-haired friend. “Where are we heading?”

  Michael grinned. “Doc feels your nickname suits you.”

  Nuke stopped in his tracks. “Really? He’s cleared me already?” He squinted. “How do you know this?”

  Michael shrugged. “Has to be. Cap said he wants us out to assemble the gate, which arrived about oh-five-hundred.”

  Nuke looked at his chronometer. “That was three hours ago. Why are they waiting for us?”

  “Beats me.” Michael produced a wide grin. “Must mean Cap knows we’re the best.”

  Nuke laughed. “Yeah, that must be it.”

  They walked down the narrow corridor, turned left, and then right to a larger opening which housed the station’s control center. Various people were at stations manning all the functions of the center as well as surrounding space traffic. Captain Bradley was signing something as they approached. He turned. “I just signed off on your medical clearance,” he said to Nuke.

  The captain motioned with his head for them to follow him to the conference room.

  As they entered, two officers were already present and seated. Lieutenant Kinsey was a lithe and beautiful woman. Her hair, almost jet black, cascaded onto her shoulders, reflecting the light. She was likely one of the prettiest women Nuke had ever seen. Yet she knew of her natural beauty and used it as a weapon of intimidation. Sergeant Naftum also was seated. He was a little pudgy and ordinary looking, yet Nuke always found him a decent fellow. They both stood as Captain Bradley entered and nodded slightly.

  Bradley motioned for the four of them to sit. He pressed a button on the table and an entire wall came to life with a view of the gate pieces in space above Triton. He nodded to Lieutenant Kinsey.

  She stood and walked to the wall and pointed. “Each gate is composed of three pieces—”

  “Each?” Nuke squinted and looked over at Kinsey. “I only see three pieces. Where’s the other gate?”

  “Each gate,” Kinsey continued, a little louder, seemingly annoyed by the interruption, “is composed of three pieces that must be fused together to form a large triangle. Currently each piece of each gate is bound to each other. Once the pieces are fused, the two gates will be separated to function independently but be linked so one will enter through one and exit the other. These gates will be three times larger than the intra-solar gate near Saturn and the other one here around Neptune.” She looked directly into Nuke’s eyes. “It’s a very dangerous mission.”

  Nuke glanced at Michael, who swallowed hard. Michael scratched the back of his head. “What’s . . . so hard about such a mission?” Michael asked.

  Naftum spoke up. “You have to thread the needle.”

  Nuke looked his way. “We have to what?”

  Naftum grinned. “Just like you did on Saturn station.”

  Nuke looked at Captain Bradley warily. Does he know about that?

  The Captain delivered a slight smile. “The notoriety of your antics precedes you even though some things may not be in your official records.”

  Naftum gave a slight chuckle. “This time you’re given permission.”

  Nuke looked at Michael and raised his eyebrows.

  Michael cleared his throat. “Uh, so . . . what exactly are we given permission to do?”

  Kinsey pointed to a location on the wall map. “These cables must be threaded through each piece to bind them together. The building crew can then properly mesh these individual pieces together to form and power the interstellar gate.”

  Nuke squinted. He could barely see where Kinsley was pointing. “What’s the diameter of the cables?”

  “One meter.”

  “And of the eyelets?”

  “Six meters.”

  Michael coughed. “That’s only about a meter on either side of each wing for clearance.”

  Kinsey nodded. “Hence the danger.”

  Nuke ran his hand across his mouth. This was going to be an even more audacious feat than his and Michael’s stunt on Saturn. There they dodged rock fragments in Saturn’s rings. Here there would be much less leeway for error.

  The Captain pressed another button on the conference table. A small door slid open and he pulled out two discs. He handed one to Nuke and the other to Michael. “Study these tonight and report back here at oh-seven-hundred ready to start.”

  Each man took the disc and nodded. Michael gave Nuke a wide-eyed look but made no other gesture. Still, that spoke volumes. Who else but the two of them would be stupid enough, and reckless enough, to accept such a mission?

  Nuke grinned to himself. He loved challenges like this.

  TWO

  THREADING THE NEEDLE

  Nuke awoke with a start, sitting up quickly. Beads of sweat glistened on his bare chest. This was the third time during this night he had dreamed of trying to pull a large rock from one of Saturn’s rings through the eyelet of the gate—and failed. He shook his head. Means nothing. Just his mind streaming two events together, combined with his apprehension and the unknown, he told himself.

  Nuke looked at his chronometer: 05:58. Time to get up anyway. He and Michael had a long day ahead. As he sat up, he mentally recited the morning prayer he had prayed every day since childhood.

  Modeh ani l’faneykha, melekh chai vekayam, she-hechezarta bi nishmati, bechemlah, rabbah emunatekha.

  Translated: “I offer thanks to You, living and eternal King, for You have mercifully restored my soul within me. Your faithfulness is great.”

  Yawning as he stretched, Nuke shook his head. Why do I still say that prayer? Although he didn’t consider himself religious, he knew that old habits die hard. Once he tried to go a day without saying the prayer, but he didn’t feel right the entire day. Therefore, he concluded, What would it hurt to keep saying the prayer?

  Nuke hopped from bed, wrapped a towel around himself, and headed to the pilot showers. One of the few perks for pilots, if you called it that: a less crowded bathroom.

  After showering and getting dressed, he turned to head out. Michael was standing at his door ready to knock as he stepped out.

  Michael smiled. “Right on cue.”

  “You act like we’re telepathically linked or something.”

  Michael slapped him on his back and laughed. “Not quite, but close.”

  Nuke couldn’t deny that. He had known Michael since grade school. Nuke considered him the brother he never had.

  Michael playfully punched Nuke in the shoulder. “Don’t interfere with my chances with Felicia today.”

  Nuke scrunched his brow. “Felicia?” He shook his head. “Who on earth is that?”

  Michael grinned. “Not Earth. Neptune. Lieutenant Kinsey.”

  Nuke stopped in his tracks. “Lieutenant Kinsey? From yesterday?”

  Michael nodded.

  Nuke couldn’t help himself, but gave a belly laugh, bending slightly at the waist while doing so.

  Michael scowled. “Yeah, laugh it up, buddy. You’ll see.”

  Nuke waved his hand as he tried to stop laughing. “Sorry, but your chances with her are less than the clearance between the wings of your jet and the walls of the gate
eyelet.”

  Michael shoved him slightly. “You’ll see. We’ll be having drinks before this day is done.”

  Nuke shoved him forward. “Let’s go before we’re late. That certainly won’t help your chances.”

  Michael increased his step.

  Nuke smiled. “You better hope this is a long day. You need as many chances as possible.”

  Michael looked back and just smiled.

  Captain Bradley stood in the control center talking to Lieutenant Kinsey. As he talked, Bradley locked eyes with Nuke and held up an index finger. Nuke nodded and walked over to the large windows with Michael.

  Nuke looked out at the barren landscape. Every so often, he missed all the vegetation Earth supplied. Here on Triton there was nothing but rock and freezing temperatures. The base sat on a flat, almost circular plain surrounded by mountains of various heights. He looked up at the sun which, from Neptune, appeared as a small round disk he could blot from his view by merely holding up his thumb.

  In the distance stood about a dozen domes housing the jets they would be flying. In the nearest dome, Nuke spotted a mechanic and an engineer. In the pecking order, he stood between the two of them. Mechanics were needed to maintain equipment, but engineers were needed to survive. Without the engineers tapping into the thermodynamics of this moon, they would all freeze in a matter of seconds. Everyone held engineers in high regard. Almost as proof, they each had bathrooms in their private quarters.

  Michael broke Nuke out of his thoughts with a quick backhand to his shoulder. “Cap’s ready.”

  Nuke nodded and followed him back into the conference room. Captain Bradley motioned for them to sit. Lieutenant Kinsey—Felicia—stood with the Captain. She looked from one to the other, but her gaze kept going back to Michael. “Any questions on your assignment?” she asked.

  Michael stared at her admiringly. Nuke kicked him with his foot. Michael’s gaze jerked to Nuke and he gave Michael a wide-eyed look. Michael returned a sheepish smile.

  Nuke’s attention turned back to Felicia. “No, ma’am. I think it’s very clear.”

  Michael nodded.

  Bradley smiled. “Great, then.” He gestured toward the doorway. “I’ll turn you over to the capable hands of Commander Pickering.”