Category: My Books

The cutting room floor

Sometimes despite a lot of writing, some parts of a story have to be cut out.  Either they mess with the flow, or are too jarring, or too repetitive, or just somehow off compared to the rest of the story.  With ‘Brandished Destiny’ I had to through out my first beginning as it was rushed, extremely dark, and not what felt right for the novel.  I’m including it here.  A side note – I keep everything as I’ve found that what doesn’t work in one story can be a godsend to another one.  So I keep the pieces and every so often a piece augments another story.  Enough introduction, here’s the original beginning of Glass Bottles IV – Brandished Destiny.

(( It’s a bit long for a post, but I wanted to put it all together ))

“Fernie, hurry up, we’ve got to go shopping”, the cheery voice over the phone clashed with my sleep-muddled brain. I’d finished a good bottle of Wild Turkey last night, to curl up around and drown my sorrows. Trouble is, alcohol just makes you feel them more until you pass out. Which might be why people drink so hard. I guess they are trying to get through the magnified pain to the drunken stupor. “Mralg frummit”, I said into the receiver, which got a little giggle from another voice. This one did make me light up. Britt, my niece. She was three now, and looked exactly like her mother when I gazed at her. The same jet black hair and deep blue eyes. The same tan to her skin. It was like seeing Fawn all over again as a kid.

“I need to find some things for Britty, how’d you like to come along?”

The chance to spend time with my niece was a definite temptation. “Count me in, Fawn, just let me get dressed.”

“We’ll swing by the office in twenty. See you then.” She hung up the line. I looked around for a pair of pants, finding the blue jeans I’d left hung over the desk chair. I had a black tee shirt on the top of the laundry and grabbed that with the jeans, bra, panties, neon orange socks and flats, I was ready for the day. I’d managed to semi-untangle my hair by the time Fawn’s car pulled into the parking lot below my main window. Once I’d joined them and gotten a big hug from Britt, I slid into the passenger seat, and spent time making faces at her while Fawn drove.

Chain stores had died when magick came back, and now most places were small and family-run. That isn’t to say there weren’t chain stores. However it was more the franchise name being sold to independents rather than a place like the old Wal store which built its own place and operated it. You need technology for that ‘just-in-time’ to the store merchandise, and the technology of the day, even with magick, isn’t up to the pace needed.

We spent the next hour getting new clothes and food, then taking it easy with a stop at Maxy’s Cafe’. After the late lunch we packed up the car and started back to Fawn and Larry’s. On the way back, I got a call on my magi-cell. “Fatelli Investigations, this is Fern”, I said into the ‘phone. “I’d like to hire you to check out my machine shop”, a man, who identified himself as Harry Belt. Harry ran a garage on the corner of Whitcomb and F. “I think someone’s been using my place at night. My tools aren’t where I left them and things are moved around in the morning when I open up.”

I looked over to Fawn, who was splitting her time between me, Britt, and the road. “A new client?”, she asked me. I made a shushing motion with my hand. “You’re wanting me to stake out your garage to see if kids are breaking in?”, I said, making sure I was repeating what he had told me. “That’s right. I just wanna be sure I’m not just seeing things. I’d ask the cops, but I think paying you to watch the place is better than them driving by once in a while at night.” I wondered if I should start tonight or give myself a day before I started. “When would you like me to start?”, I asked. “Well, if you got the time, I’d like you to try tonight? I swear stuff’s being moved, but I ain’t sure. It might be jus’ me gettin’ absent-minded”, he said.

It made sense to start as soon as possible. Who knows, I could get lucky right off the start, and catch people if there were any. Otherwise it might take a week or so of stakeouts to prove to myself no on was. “All right I’ll start tonight.” I quoted him my fee, and he said he could pay for nights of surveillance, if it took that long to prove things one way or another. As I hung up the call, Fawn looked over and smiled. “Sounds like a late night date.” “Yeah, he thinks someone’s using his place at night”, I answered her.

“That’s quieter than you usually handle.”

“Business has been slow. It’s nice to get a paying job. I’ve got all these pesky little things called bills to pay.”

“No doubt, sis. But who’ve you got for backup on this one?”

“Well”, I said slowly. “I was going to talk to was going to go talk to a friend about helping me out.”

“I’ll volunteer”, said Fawn. She looked at me. “I’ve been looking for a reason to get out of the house for a night.”

“Don’t you get that every time you go to work, Fawn? You are a cop after all. Long nights is in the job application.”

Fawn threw back her head and laughed. “It is! But now that I’m a captain, I’m behind a desk all day long. I want something to do besides sitting on my tushy all day long.”

“So you would rather sit in a car all night watching a building? How is that so different from your desk jockeying?”

Fawn stopped and looked over to me, then back to the road. “Fern, since that business back with that thing on PEI, I had to look at the chance of losing my sister, losing you. Since you moved out, we’ve fought, and argued, and never really tried to patch things up. We get along, but when’s the next time we’re going to tear each other’s hair out?” She sighed and looked fondly back at her daughter, sleeping in the car seat. She turned back to me, her face focused on mine with an intensity that I hadn’t seen before.

“When Britt was born, I was so happy. I had a family, like when mom and dad were alive. You and Britt hit it off when you came over, and it was like the most amazing feeling seeing you there with her. When that thing nearly killed you, it hit me that Britt would never see you again, and never know you. That led me to realize I don’t know much about you any more. We’ve grown apart. With Britt, I want to see us grow together a little.”

The light turned red and Fawn slowed the car to a stop. The truth in Fawn’s words were easy to see. We got along, sure, but nowhere near like we did as kids. Maybe it was time to listen to what Fawn said, and see about spending more time.

“Well, I know I’ve got this boring job of watching a garage tonight for a client. It’s likely to be boring”, I said as the light turned green.

“And tedious”, Fawn said with a dramatic sigh, then grinned. “How will you ever cope?”

“I have this older sister. She’s a cop. Maybe she’d like to moonlight a little.”

‘She can’t moonlight. It’s against regulations. But”, she paused and smiled. “There nothing that says she can’t go along for a ride and family catch-up time.”

“That sounds like a plan to me”, I said with a grin. I’d never been with Fawn on a stake out, and despite the excitement, I was worried. What if we couldn’t get along? I told my worries to go hang, and we drove the rest of the way back to my office. After being dropped off, I called over to a rental place to arrange for a van to use. Yes, it may be cliche’, but if you’re going to be watching a place, which is better, a van you can stretch in, or a car where you can’t?

I picked up the van that afternoon. It was a faded brown chevrolet. Perfect for what I had in mind. The next few hours were spent putting in a couple of cots, a big cooler, binoculars, a change of clothes, foame rubber for the floor, and some gun microphones. The plan was to park the van in the ‘to be repaired’ section of the garage lot, and then wait and see. The foam rubber was to deaden our steps when we moved around. To fight the static electricity, we’d go barefoot.

The van was finished that evening. I called Harry Belt, and told him what we were going to do. While Harry came to get our van I called Fawn to have her come over. Fawn arrived with a spare change of clothes, and a large cooler. We got it stowed and ready just as Harry pulled up with the tow. He hooked us up and towed the van to his garage lot, parking it in the lot with a good view of the garage and the adjoining office. Behind the storage lot was a can recycling business, and across the lot to the south, was a small elementary school. There were about twelve cars and trucks, including the stakeout van, waiting for repairs.

Now that we were in place, it was time to relax until dark. Harry went through his routine of closing shop an hour later, waving the other workers good night. He locked the garage and office, then went home, leaving us to watch the place. Fawn and I took one hour shifts to start with. I had a feeling that this would be a short job. Something just told me there was something going on. I wish I could have contracted a couple Imrits with us to help watch, but they would never answer my request anymore after Hervald Thensome. I’d done what I had to to survive, and the Imrits didn’t like it one bit. Plus, if these intruders were fae, or magickal beings, any magick wards would be seen.

So for now, we were reduced to technology and our own eyes. Fawn had the third shift for about ten minutes when she whispered to me. “Looks like we’ve got company.” I moved quietly up to the window and looked out. Six gentlemen in dark clothing had driven up in an old Chevrolet Suburban, and had gotten out. They appeared confident, going straight to the office. The door opened after a few moments, which made me think that they had a key, or a really, really good professional lock pick. Fawn didn’t see anything set up or left behind as a warning system.

“Wait”, I told her. “We’re going to need something to find any little wards or ‘somebody’s here’ warnings. Let me whip something up fast.” A quick circle with an ink pen on paper, a match for light, paper for knowledge, black sock for stealth, a battery for duration, and two pair of glasses for the object. Five slow minutes of quiet chanting and a large dose of personal power, and we had two night glasses, good for about an hour.

We moved quietly and rolled the driver side window down. Fawn rolled out head first into a silent forward roll as she exited. Being a half-meter shorter, I had an easier time getting out, joining Fawn on the side of the van. We both lowered slowly to the ground and looked under the van towards the office. There were no signs of movement so Fawn did a quick silent run to the garage side of the building. Both Fawn and I have a unique trouble that I’ve talked about before. Both of us, due to our parents experiments in magic, ended up with monstrous reservoirs of magick that we can’t touch.

Look at us with mage sight, and we’re like looking directly into a searchlight. Which on a sneak and peek like this, would be a very easy way to find us, if they knew to look. Most careful people have a lookout that does just that. Fawn spotted him first, and pushed me back. I hugged the wall as she lowered herself to the ground and peeked around the edge of the building. A lump in the middle of a straight line gets attention, a lump at the bottom blends into the contour. As she watched, she held up a hand and whispered, “More, another four. That makes twelve. This sounds like some kind of meeting with that many.”

“What about the door?”, I whispered to her, kneeling down next to her to look myself. Fawn pushed me back. “Wait, he’s looking this way.” She froze, as did I. Fawn held her breath, rigidly alert. She held herself still for almost a minute, barely breathing. She relaxed visibly, then said, “He went inside.” That was our cue to move, and move we did, to the edge of the office door, crouched down below the edge of the glass window.

There was a faint light from inside the building. I looked up at the magnetic strip alarm with my mage sight. The lock had been hexed, canceling the signal. We took our time getting through the door, opening it slowly and holding it just enough to close it equally slowly. I got out my cell phone and set it to take pictures with the silent option on. If there was enough light there’d be faces to record.

Fawn waited for me to get ahead of her, then we moved slowly, making certain that we weren’t throwing shadows ahead of us that could be seen. We eased to down the hall to the opening into the four stall garage. Inside there were eleven of our twelve burglars. As we watched, there was a grinding sound and lights flashed twice. The personal lights all went out and the third door from us opened, admitting a rather fancy looking Jeep. The door closed and the crew jumped to, rapidly taking all the bolts out and stripping the car down for parts.

Then there was a sound that pushed my heart to my throat. A flushing sound, mixed with the metallic sound of a lock being turned, came from a door behind us. Fawn and I both spun trying to get back past the door and into the office to hide before we were seen. Fawn saw we were already cut off and charged the emerging lookout. He looked up and saw Fawn charge towards him. His eyes grew wide and he loosed a yell, clawing at the back of his pants when Fawn hit him like a American Football Linebacker. Her shoulder plowed into his gut just below the ribs as her momentum crushed him against the door lintel, driving the air from his lungs and snapping a bone.

He tried to scream, and Fawn chopped the side of his neck to stun him. He slid to the floor as answering yells came from in the garage. The tiles vibrated with pounding feet as we started for the office, only to have Fawn go down as the stunned lookout flopped about, trying to regain his feet. His legs tangled with Fawn’s and they both went down in a heap. She was up and running as the first man cleared the door behind her, a big revolver in his hand. The gun thundered, raising dust in the corridor, Fawn staggered and kept running, I pulled her down as she reached the corner, spinning her behind me. I snapped a shot back down the corridor, and looked at Fawn, who said, “Never a dull moment”. She winced and pressed her hand to her side, and I saw thick, dark liquid ooze from between her fingers.

“We got to get out of here, you’re hit”, i said, panic trying to rise in the back of my mind. “I know that guy”, Fawn panted shallowly. He’s True Belief, they’ve done terror hits in Dayning. Hate killers. I gotta call backup.” She moved her hand and the blood flooded the floor at her side. “I gotta…call..”. I didn’t get to answer as a death bolt tore past me, and exploded the window behind us.

“Come on, Fern”, she said faintly. “Come on where?”, I snapped. These guys were True Belief, it meant that this chop shop was part of their money operation. Like a lot of fanatics, they’re big on cause, short on cash. I wished they would have been short on artillery. We couldn’t go forward, as they had a clear view of us if we tried for the broken window or door. There was a door behind them, but it was behind the now three men who started blasting down the corridor. I ducked back around the corner, wishing I’d have thought to check the one door. Screw-ups like this are how you read about people like me in obituaries. It was a freaking rookie mistake.

I stopped to drop my empty clip, and push home a new one. “L..”, came from behind me. “Fawn, what is it. Hang on. We’ll get out.” I pushed the pistol around the corner and emptied it blindly down the hall. I pulled back and dumped the second clip and shoved home my last one.

Things had really gone downhill in a hurry. I leaned around the corner, looking down the corridor. Three faces near the ground saw me the same time I saw them. They fired, and I ducked back as the spells and bullets plastered the corner, blowing chalk dust into the air. The spell made the dust glow, then wink out. I felt the disorientation spell faintly as it dissipated. That was a powerful spell. To feel it a foot away, the guy must have major ju-ju. I looked over to my right, into the eyes of my sister. They had a glassy, faraway look.

Fern’s hand had slipped from the wound in her side, which sluggishly pulsed thick, dark blood. There was a pool about the size of her head by her hip. She was bleeding out and the exit was covered by the bastards from True Belief. I bit my lip, trying to think of something, some way out. I kept coming up blank. I was going to lose my sister if something didn’t change fast. I reached for the magic, and felt it flood into me like a runaway freight. We were over a ley line! Small, and hidden by spells, but definitely there. That’s how the magicker had cast such a big effect. How could I have missed it?

Easy really, I never bothered to look for it, and spells are too easy to trace when you use it to break into a place. Your signature is on every spell you cast. And right now, I was planning on writing one big autograph all over those fanatics. My sister drew a shuddering breath, her throat catching like a person drowning in water. Her lungs were filling up. We were out of time.

I threw a hurried spell together, grabbing my lighter, and kerchief. I bundled the kerchief in the scarf, then flipped the static trigger for the lighter, throwing it once I saw the flame catch. I willed the fire to burn hot, and as the lighter flipped towards the shooters, the lighter seemed to bulge, then explode, making the floor jump. A second hurried spell lifted my sister and followed me as I rose up and sprinted for the office door away from the stunned cultists. I hit the door with my shoulder and we were out in the parking lot.

The van was in the lot closest to us. I ran to the door and wrenched it open. I directed her into the passenger seat and then flipped down the passenger visor and caught her keys. The engine roared to life as the three killers lurched out of the door and tried to shoot us, but they hadn’t completely recovered, and the shots and spells went wide of us as we tore out and back towards Halifax. It was shaky going as the spell had wrenched a lot of my personal energy.

We managed to get to the emergency lot before I passed out. Witnesses said the van careened into on of the cement columns and smacked it hard enough to throw us into the glass. We were both rushed to emergency treatment. I woke up with a bandage on the side of my face, and a headache that was way past migraine. When I was told I was alright and didn’t have a concussion, I refused service immediately, and paid for what they’d done. Fawn was still in surgery, so I called Larry, and explained what happened.

Larry came to ICU and he and their daughter Britt, sat through the long hours of surgery. Britt was asleep in Larry’s lap when the doctor came. He slowly got up, cradling my three year old niece. The doctor looked at Larry, his eyes bleak. “I’m sorry, there’s just too much internal damage, and the bullets were death-spelled. She’s alive, but I think you should go see her now”, he said.

Larry bit back a anguished whine, which woke up Britt. She looked at her dad, and tried to hug him, like a child will do to comfort someone. Larry held her tight as we followed the doctor into the room. The smell was the first thing that hit me. Behind all the sterile chemicals was the faint odor of death. The faint greenish paint seemed to pulse with rot as we entered. The doctors and nurses seemed out of place with the bright, multicolored scrubs they wore. The single bed was adjustable, with the head cracked up to about a forty-five degree angle. My Amazon of a sister lay there, pale as the white sheets that covered her from her armpits on down.

Her hands were along her sides as tubes in her arms led back up to a half-dozen bags of blood and Ringer’s lactate. She didn’t respond until she heard Larry murmur in her ear and Britt say “Mommy!” She fought her dad and squirmed to reach her mother. “Britty, hush, Mommy’s tired”, Larry told her, and she pushed harder. Her mom said, “Please, Larry, let her down”, in a soft whisper. Britt was lowered gently to the bed and immediately curled under her mother’s arm and draped an arm across her chest. Fawn smiled,then looked up at Larry. She mouthed “I love you”, then leaned over to kiss Britt. Her lips touched her hair, and stayed.

The monitor screeched as her heart flat-lined. A doctor rushed to flip it off. Britt never stirred under her mother’s kiss and arm, snuggling closer for a moment before her dad lifted her back into her arms with a sleepy protest. The nurses straightened her head, unhooked the IV’s, and covered her body. The morticians would be by to pick it up in three days, the requisite time to be certain of death. Larry made no protest as I guided him down the bustling halls of the hospital, and back outside.

The sky was grey with the promise of rain. You could smell the water in the air. We got to Larry’s car, opening the back door and setting Britt in the baby carrier. She whined sleepily, and nodded off once she was strapped in. Larry looked in shock. Hell, he was in shock. His eyes had that empty stare that people get when their life is over. His skin had gone paler than usual, looking nearly as grey as the overcast sky. He closed the door, and looked at me.

I must have looked like he did. I know I felt that way. It was unreal. I couldn’t feel her loss yet, the shock had me absolutely calm, and rational. I could feel the edges starting to fray. I clamped down as hard as I could, willing myself not to unravel in front of my niece. My heart ached for Larry. How do you tell a three-year old that mommy’s gone and won’t be coming back? Short answer, you don’t. You just try to cope, and help her deal with things as she grows. Easy to say, but hard, so very hard to do.

He shuffled to the driver’s side door, opened it and sat down, bumping his feet twice to knock loose dirt off his shoes before closing the door. He started the car and slowly drove off to an empty house. I watched them go, then, walked to my own car. Deep down under my grief, a cold lump of anger and hate formed. I wanted these people. I wanted to hurt them. I wanted them dead. I drove home thinking of various ways to make it happen. What spells I’d need, what symbols for the spell. When I got to the house, I unlocked the front door, and moved directly to the back lab.

Everything was there for what I wanted to do. I’d just started to gather the pieces when the door opened, then closed. I froze at the sounds, then carefully put the candles and sulfur on the counter by the sink. I was still wearing my holster, and I pulled the Ruger .357 and brought it up, aiming at the door. It started to push open, and I dropped to one knee. I was at the edge of the island counter, and I wanted all the cover I could get. The door opened away from my position, so I had to wait for the person to clear the door before I could shoot accurately. What I saw was a ink-black boot clear the edge, followed by an ink-black body.

Megan. The Darkness. I swallowed a lump of fear as she-slash-it entered the room and turned to face me. “You know what I want, sister of the dead sister. To sense with your senses. Your sister’s death has you screaming hate and loss into the aether.” It/she paused, black abyssal eyes gleaming out from a black shadow of a girl. It had been five years since that night when she’d made the open pact with the Darkness. Those twelve years I’d followed in the papers and through reports Fawn shared with me of its/her travels throughout eastern Canada. Wherever it/she went, people died, or worse.

“You know who you want to visit fear and vengeance upon, you know I can give you all the power you need to make those desires reality. You could save this dying, foolish ephemeral thing you call ‘Megan’ from my continued touch. All you need do is let me come to you. I can see the patterns of your life, witchling. I can feel the choices being limited by the future. You know how you can change them”, it said in that same soft voice overlain with the sound of faint screaming.

I didn’t realize that I’d stood up until I’d backed into the counter under the window. The entity spooked me bad. I knew if I gave in, I’d never be free. I’d scream my life away in that thing’s embrace as it used me for it’s personal sock puppet. Part of me was tempted. I knew that the Darkness would give me everything I wanted and more. The power to kill every one of those hate fanatics in the True Revelation. I could face down that murderous elf-prince and feed him terror until it burst that withered pustule in his chest he called a heart.

I knew all this, and was terrified of it. And here it was, when I was raw with pain from my sister dying, offering me a chance to destroy everyone that had hurt me. Dear gods above and beyond, I wanted it. I started to waver as my pain started to claw it’s way out. I clamped down on it, and walled it away once more. The ache in my heart remained a distant sensation for now. But sometime soon, I was going to have to deal with what happened or it would tear me apart.

I wanted to see Doug again, but that idea died as soon as I’d thought it. Doug was dead too, because the elf-lord wanted me for what he could take. Anger surged again and I looked at the Darkness. It quivered with eagerness sensing I might actually give in. A faint, mewling scream played across my hearing as Megan twisted in the Darkness’ grip. He was twisting his vessel to up the tension, trying to make me jump his way. At least, that’s what he hoped. What it did was throw mental ice-water on the anger, and snuffed it out like pinching a candle wick. I squeezed back against the counter, trying to put distance between me and it-slash-her.

A sense of irritation and disappointment emanated from the Darkness. “Very well, child of ephemera”, it said in a soft hollow voice. “I can wait. The choices you have are narrowing ever further as the future moves to the present. Remember your losses, and what you could have chosen that would have stopped them from happening.” It turned to the door, and flowed through it. I heard the door open again, and close. Only then did I let the breath go I’d been holding. I don’t remember sliding to my knees, I just remember crying for what felt like hours as the fear, hate, and loss finally broke free inside me.

It was dark in the house when I finally became aware of my surroundings again. I put the revolver back in its holster, stood up, and began to replace the spell items I’d gathered. Once that was done, I went to the bedroom and fell across the bed. I don’t remember hearing the alarm at all. I slept through it and woke around eleven. The message light was beeping when I checked my cell-phone. The first call was from Larry. He was looking for me to come by and go with him to the funeral directors to help choose a coffin and service.

The second was from Fawn’s department head, expressing his condolences, and an offer of police honors at the service. It was something that had to be done, the call wasn’t my decision. It was Larry’s if he was up to it. He answered on the second ring. “Fern? Can we put off going to the Funeral home? Britty’s really upset mommy didn’t come home.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I don’t know where to start. I’m supposed to be strong, but how can I when I feel so empty.” There was no answer I could give him. Saying something as trite as “we all have to deal”, wouldn’t help, even if it was true. This is one thing there’s no good answer to. A lot of hard, truthful answers. But no good ones.

“We get it done now, Larry, it isn’t hanging over us. I’ll find a babysitter, and we’ll…” he interrupted me. “I’ll get one of my sisters. They’ll understand.” “Good idea Larry. That’ll make the trip easier”, I said quietly. The funeral home was the last place any of us wanted to go. The finality of the visit just reinforced Fawn was gone. And on top of that, we were ignoring the situation that got Fawn killed. Those bastards were still out there, and doing this kept us from being in on the hunt.

The police were probably buzzing around Halifax like hornets who’s nest had gotten kicked. One of their own had been killed, and no cop wants to let a cop-killer get away. One of the few times being a gang in uniform is useful. Regardless, thinking about that gave me a focus around the grief I was feeling. Taking it out on the bad guys would be cathartic.

Larry interrupted my thoughts. “Fernie? You there?” I shook my head and focused back on the here and now. “I’m here, just, thinking, you know, eh?” “I know, I’m doing a lot of it lately. We had a talk last week about her job. I wanted her to give up the special weapons command. I think she was going to. I know she wanted more time with Britty. I’ve been taking her with me to the magic shop. She’s all over the store. Helping me pick stuff up and reminding me about what I’m doing. The customers love her.” I could hear some papers rustling. “She had the paperwork here, she just hadn’t dated the signature.” There was a long silence, then Larry’s phone clunked.

I could hear some strangled sounds coming from the other end of the line. “Larry?” the phone clattered then he answered, “Sorry, just … hard right now.” “Yeah, me too. I’ll see you in a half-hour, Larry.” He mumbled an affirmative and hung up the phone. I felt like wood. All my emotions were raw, and yet distant like it was all unreal. The drive over to pick up Larry was quiet. It was like the whole city was mourning. When I stopped in front of Larry’s house on the edge of Dayning, I had to look at it twice to make sure I was at the right home.

All over the lawn were small packets of flowers, candles, and small statuettes. Nothing was on the sidewalk, but all around the house were the small pieces of thoughtfulness. Larry always had been big in the non-human community because he was willing to trade and deal with them fairly. Fawn had been a cop, but like Larry, she’d been a big influence on the police with non-humans, to the point of getting them into her squad. The dividends had been a big reason that trust between the community and the police had grown.

Those that liked the old system, and the advantages of exploitation didn’t. It wasn’t perfect. Nothing is. It’s a lot more tolerable than it was. Larry never wanted the adulation, he just looked at it as good business. Treat people with respect and they’ll do the same a lot more often than not. It was a shock to see how much it meant to others. As I got out of the car, a news van pulled up to the curb and slid their side door open. The reporter stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the house and began speaking back to the cameraman still in the truck.

The young man had the camera focused on the house, and respectfully stayed at a distance as I got Larry, and left for the funeral home. Once there, we haggled for a few hours. The funeral home representatives could give sales lessons to door-to-door men. They knew how to milk grief and guilt. Larry surprised me by getting in their faces about it too. Upshot is we got a simple wood coffin and cremation for a price far below what they’d hoped to sell us. Larry’s and my one splurge was the Granite headstone, with room enough for two names side-by-side.

Once done with that morbid necessity, we started our trip home. Larry was still fuming about it all when we got back onto the road home. “I can’t believe those vultures, trying to push that godawful monster on us. What good is all that fancy crap when you’re dead?”, he said bitterly.

“I agree with you. I think it’s when you feel guilty you want to make up for it, you know?”

He frowned and kept his arms crossed. Then straightened up as a different thought came to mind. “I..”, he managed to get out, before moving hand over his face. His shoulders slumped and shook as he cried silently. I managed to hold it together until I got him home, then retreated to the bathroom, and sat there for a half-hour while I tried to get a grip on my own emotions. Finally, I had no more tears to shed, and pulled myself together again.

Out there, somewhere, were the killers. Until they were caught, this would be a raw wound for all of us. So I had two days before the funeral to use on tracking them down. I planned to use every moment doing it. First was to arrange some help. The best place would be in Dayning, where most of the non-human community lived. Larry was feeding Britty some mashed potatoes as I gathered my things. He coaxed her with a laugh and a smile, which Britty bought nothing of. Kids are smart, they know when things are tough. Her face was scrunched up, absolutely serious. She’d open her mouth to take the food, but she didn’t laugh, just ate. I bit my lip as I left to keep from breaking down again. Larry waved absently, entirely focused on Britty.

Brandished Destiny – Chapter 1 – Open Door

The blast of power blotted out the cloudless blue sky with a rippling distortion that turned everything grey. It smashed into me like a runaway truck. I held my ground and diverted the power upwards by imagining a curved surface in front of me. The surface did its job and the power flashed upwards to break apart in blots of grey surrounded by flecks of blue. Imagination is a great weapon when you don’t need a circle to cast, but you pay for it with strained mucsles, headaches, bodyaches, and lethargy. I had them in spades.

We’d finally gotten a handle on what we experienced facing off against a huge entity that a weird cult, led by David Cameron, had put their compound over. Both Fawn and I suddenly could do major magic without needing any kind of practice or particular item to focus. It was just there. Believe me, we were very happy it was just there back then. We’d have died along with a lot of naked senseless people trapped in cabins that were going to be used for some kind of sacrificial ritual that would have wakened said enormous entity. That we’re still alive is a testament to sheer wild luck, and perhaps magic’s own agenda.

Larry has never heard of this kind of thing ever happening before. If Larry doesn’t know, it’s a good bet that it’s something potentially unprecedented. Which ratcheted up our own paranoia about becoming lab rat test subjects for the powers-that-be in the Canadian government. We’ve kept what happened secret for our own peace of mind. Neither of us wants to give up our life as it is.

Fawn and Larry, through a lot of counseling and a lot of work, stuck together. Zhira, their daughter was born healthy and Fawn was pulled back from death’s embrace via shocking her heart back into action. I helped out for the first five months until Fawn told me to get lost and take care of myself. She’d recovered totally, and was the picture of Amazonian health. If anything, she looked more together than she had since high school.

She was back on her job and had been promoted again to precinct captain and still managed to hang on to the leadership of Dayning/Halifax police department’s Magick response team. That organization went through three incarnations before settling on the current the current ‘Special Response Unit’ moniker. The SRU was her baby. Larry had given up on trying to get her to drop that position, but had at least gotten a compromise with her being the precinct captain which meant her forays into the field were now more limited.

Fawn relaxed and glanced over to her left, where Zhira was making sand castles with daddy Larry. She turned her gaze back to me.

“One more time?”

“No, I’m wore out. Spend some of that extra energy on those two” I laughed, then winced. I’ve said in the past that Magick is a pain, and now it was a literal pain in the head, and the metaphorical neck. It’d be a few minutes before the headache went away, but at least it’d go. I hadn’t been terribly interested in practicing Magick, especially since it was something that just came natural after being dragon possessed.

One big consequence is after it happened the cases I got hooked into suddenly were a lot more weird and unsettling. The giant entity was the first and the most disturbing to me. Others were just plain weird.

The latest example of Weirdness was Klaus’s liquor store down the block from my office. He called me to solve a problem with missing stock. The security system he had showed no one in the place, and no one leaving. Bottles and kegs were full one moment, and empty the next. Not gone. Empty. How someone empties a full bottle of alcohol without removing the cap would have been beyond me before Prince Edward Island, now it would be simple. I’d have to do it one bottle at a time, but I could do it. Whoever played this trick on Klaus was way more practiced than I, and possibly as vindictive.

I looked everything over and couldn’t find anything – physically or Magickally – that even hinted at who, what, how, or why. I promised Klaus to come by later and bring Rynun along. I’d just gotten to my office when Klaus called me saying he’d found the missing booze.

One thing you should remember about Klaus is that he’s a bookie. He’s not big-time, and he deliberately keeps his client list small, which makes more like a hobby than a business. Apparently, he found the booze when he opened the door to the small back room where he has the booking operation. All of the booze had been transported into the room and nearly drowned him when he opened the door.

As it was his equipment was shot, and I think the critters in the sewers had a grand old time with that much booze flowing into the system all at once. I haven’t found out why or how that happened. Rynun wasn’t hanging around the alley any more so I couldn’t ask him. He’d returned to the area around my folk’s old cabin since the spell conjuring up Ahiah was finally broken.

I rubbed the nub of my little finger. Ahiah had bitten it off during that fight. I broke the original bottle with Rynun’s knife and Ahiah was banished back into the ground. We won, or more truthfully, survived.

I’d tried to forget that particular nightmare for years without any luck. It seems more than just my Magickal abilities were improved. My memory was nearly eidetic now. Maybe that was a reason why I could do spells so easy and without a circle. I could remember every sense and emotion for lack of a better description, of each spell.

It made my head swim thinking about it, so I turned my attention to my niece. Zhira was two. Her birthday was last week, and she’d gotten a genie costume. Yes, she wanted one. How did we know? She told us. Yes, at twenty months she was forming sentences. Not great ones, but definite, distinct, sentences. She saw the costume on sale for Halloween. Yes, that’s still a holiday, only one with more meaning than before. Regardless, she saw it and wanted it. And ‘Auntie’ Fern just couldn’t say no.

She hadn’t taken it off since she’d opened her present, with exceptions to wash it. I could only wonder what she’d be like by four if this was two. Maybe she’d be casting spells though gods I hoped not. Which brought my thoughts over to Fawn and I.

I find it amazing how Magick fitted itself to us in such disparate forms and yet so appropriately. Fawn’s Magick works internally. Basically she can harden her skin, increase her strength, speed, vision, hearing, etc. Anything dealing with physical attributes, she can do it. Me, mine’s all external. Fire, water, earth, air. The four classical alchemical elements. I could lift and toss rocks up to the size of a bulldozer over two kilometers, create heat that could melt brick and cause the earth to glaze. I could form shapes from my imagination, just like the earlier ramp to divert Fawn’s attack away from me.

That brings me to the most interesting part. As I said before, we’re both huge Magick batteries. Whatever happened to us at the circle when our folks cast the spell created a result that Fawn and I constantly drew Magick into us. Plus if we’re within a few meters of each other, our skills blend. Each of us is the power source for the other.

We can do those Magickal things each other can do. Fawn can punch power at me; I can harden Magick around me. They’re not quite the same, but it is close in form. If we hold hands, we become one source that can do everything. We think the same, hear the same. Our powers become one all encompassing cauldron of Magick that is anything we deem it to be. It’s intoxicating, and scares the both of us all the way to our toenails.

Something that feels that good without any apparent limits is something to avoid using. Magick is seductive enough on regular days. It’s why a number of potential wizards don’t live long enough to become wizards. They play with power and want more to play with because it’s like a heavy shot of your favorite method of getting high.

Drunk on power is not just a metaphor. Knowing when you’re getting into that kind of power is what keeps you alive and sane. It made us paranoid. We did some research and had Larry help us out. We found nothing describing what was going on with us.

Larry is still hunting through whatever’s on the ‘net. And we live as quietly as we can with this power and try not to go too crazy with it all. Thankfully Zhira seems unaffected by it. She’s a normal active little girl with curly Ash blonde hair and the most intense violet eyes. Eyes like that usually presages Magickal ability, and with her parents, it’s kind of a given she’d be some kind of Magick wielder. Honestly, I’m looking forward to seeing it and dreading it at the same time.

Magick is has been the one big constant in my life since the craziness started happening with Hervald Thensome. I could definitely do without more crazy Magick. Which was why Fawn and I were practicing. You know the old saying of ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’? We knew it was going to happen. Magick’s got its own agenda, and like it or not anyone that practices Magick is part of that ongoing agenda.

Reminiscing can get you really lost in your own head. However, sometimes the past comes knocking at your door. When it does, you really should avoid answering. I’d left the door wide open and the past came waltzing through in full party mode. What’s a girl going to do?

Brandished Destinies Chapter 3 part 1

After Judge Caddus left, and thoughtfully left the bottle under my coffee cup, I called Sinera in to ask her take on the conversation.

“He is truly disturbed by finding the item. It is not his only concern however. I do not have a notion of what his other concern might be. He is very careful with speech and mannerisms.”

“So asking him directly is not going to be an option.”

Sinera shrugged, then sat down in the guest chair. “I do not believe so. If he would have given an indication of concern, I am certain that it would have been obvious enough for a human to recognize.” Ouch, burn. She was correct though. Elves are raised on politics, which means being able to read small tells better than a professional gambler. Humans are just not as in tune with each other as Elves are.

“Okay, then let’s find out if there is anyone who has collapsed recently and acting like a vegetable.” It’s what the bottle does to people. I hate the idea of looking for victims, but right now it’s the only idea I had.

“Are there any patterns that the previous perpetrator used? If those using the bottles are after similar things, what the original was targeting, these new users may target also.”

I went over to the files and made of show of looking through them, but I had intimate knowledge of Hervald’s habits. He wanted attractive women, and had frequented singles bars for them. I don’t think that someone would do the same thing. But it didn’t hurt to check out. Singles bars are good places to make contacts. Hervald went for the high-end places. Not the best place to hunt targets. Missing debutantes tend to stand out. Homeless don’t.

“Sinera, can you check with the police if there’s a sudden rash of disappearances of homeless people in any one area? They seem like a natural target if someone wants to hide what they’re doing.”

Sinera nodded. “I can do the search. Would you prefer immediately, or Monday morning?”

“Immediately. We’re on the clock. We can charge…” I smacked my head. He left before I could bring up price. Note again, listen for what Elves DON”T say. Not only had he hooked me with the bottle, he’s getting my efforts for free. I wanted to pull my hair for falling for such a trick. Sinera looked at me with an enigmatic smile that perhaps I was actually learning something. Freaking Elves.

I pulled out the old file on Hervald Thensome and walked with it in hand back to my desk and read the notes I made. The first one with a note “This sucks!”, was how I felt right now. Score one for old notes. I’d ran into Hervald the third bar I had spent an hour at. He invited me up to an apartment, then tried suck my soul out with the bottle. He ended up getting himself when I tripped him trying to escape. The question now would be Fawn. She deserved to know. As a cop, she had resources I couldn’t touch, and I had contacts that she could never talk to. It was a good balance when we weren’t on opposite sides of the law.

I sat down and grabbed the old candlestick phone and dialed her number. Each rotation of the dial was pure enjoyment. How many people do you know that can still use a rotary phone? It’s fun compared to the push button or touchscreen. Slower definitely, but fun. The desk sergeant, Richie Pomeroy, picked up on the third ring.

“Hauser House, Pomeroy speaking, how may I help you?”

“Hi Richie. Fawn in?”

The line was quiet for a few moments then Richie said with exaggerated politeness, “She’s still out at the scene. I’ll pass on the request.”

Richie didn’t like me much, and the feeling was mutual. I didn’t like him in high school when his idea of paying attention to me was as a way to hang with Fawn. We both ran him off when we got wise to what he was doing. After that things happened to my locker and any stuff I didn’t keep an eye on. The culmination was the self-defense classes. His dad ran the class and he and I were called up to demonstrate a few self-defense moves against a surprise attacker. I threw Richie down harder than I needed to once. He retaliated with a full football tackle which knocked the wind out of me. When I got my wind back, I went after him. His dad and Fawn had to break us apart.

He mellowed and turned into a good cop, but he still held a grudge, and I wouldn’t let go of mine either. We were unfailingly polite, but that was it. Strange how that works. Maybe the Elves weren’t so different after all. And maybe I’m a six foot Amazon.

After the call, I doodled random notes to see if any inspiration would hit and I’d have a way to start this investigation. Sinera would take likely most of the day remaining talking to the various Houses to see what, if anything unusual had happened in their territory. I started to get up and check on Sinera and get a few numbers to call and give me something to do instead of brooding, which is when the phone rang. I was rapidly losing faith in coincidence so I hoped whoever it was had something simple and mundane. Yeah, fat chance, right? I took a breath and exhaled slowly before I picked up the receiver.

“Fatelli Investigations.”

“Shortstuff, we need to talk. I have something creepy as hell and want your take on it.”

“Some victim a vegetable and glassy eyed like three years ago?”

She sputtered on the other end of the phone and I would have grinned at surprising her but the upside down cup on my desk with one of the four missing Glass Bottles under it sobered me up real quick.

“I got a visit from Judge Caddus from the Elven enclave. He convinced me that we have a real problem. So yeah, I wanted to talk to you. Richie Pomeroy has a message from me to call since you weren’t at your desk.” I took the next few minutes describing our chat and what the Judge had left on my desk. Fawn remained quiet through the whole talk, but I could feel her anger building. Some deranged THING brought those back to Dayning. Right into her proverbial back yard. She did not want to wait for the body count to rise.

“Do you think that demon’s back too?” Fawn. Direct and to the point. Forget the bottles and focus on the bottle user. That’s the best way to shut trouble down.

“No idea right now. I’m hoping he’s gone and not coming back. Once was more than painful enough for me.” I rubbed the nub of my little finger again. It had started throbbing when I saw that bottle again. Fawn gave me a complete run-down on the victim. Young, blonde, pretty, and missing from work after not calling in sick yesterday. This was almost identical to Hervald’s victims. I really REALLY didn’t want it to be Hervald again.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Fawn sounded sad and angry at the same time. “Yes, she’s gone, if it really is that bottle again.” She paused for a moment. “Come by the station, you’re going to be a professional consultant to our house. You’ll get full pay and full access to our database and whatever we get from overseas or the ‘states.”

Brandished Destinies Chapter 2 part 2

He stared at me for a long moment. His eyes locked on mine and I don’t think he ever blinked. He sat and stared, as if trying to find a way to broach a subject. Finally he sighed, then reached up a sleeve on his robe. He took a few moments to locate something by touch, then removed his closed hand and placed on my desk in front of me. He opened his hand and withdrew it, leaving behind a small metallic-like blue glass bottle. The same kind of bottle that cost my friend Zhirk his life and Hervald Thensome his soul.

I’m not sure if I shrieked and scrambled back or just teleported to where I was, mashed back against the wall next to the window that had been replaced during that first hellish case. The Judge, thoroughly alarmed at my reaction quickly grabbed my coffee mug and placed it over the bottle, covering it and hiding it from sight.

I struggled for breath for a few moments before the adrenalin shakes hit. I was scared to death. I had smashed that thing! At PEI Anolyn had deliberately targeted the box with glass bottles and burned it to ash, along with the huge oak tree that Cobb had used as a torture chamber to make them from the agony and despair of his victims.

I could hear Kent Nix and Kevin Love scream their lives out all over again. More than anything at that moment, I wanted to grab the bottle of scotch and drown my fear in the bitter alcohol and forget that cursed thing under my upended coffee cup. It’d taken the better part of a year of twice-weekly therapy to finally get a control on all the trauma that went with the previous jobs. My head was more or less back on straight, and I didn’t wake up screaming or paralyzed by nightmares.

Now, that thing shows up on my desk out of the blue. Well, blue robes anyway. Snark and sarcasm has always been a way I handle stress. It just isn’t the best choice because giving someone attitude when they’ve got the upper hand is just begging for bad things to happen. It had more than once and somehow I managed to avoid most of the bad intentions sent my way. I rubbed the nub of my little finger while Judge Caddus attempted to apologize by bowing his head almost to the desk top in contrition. Now was the time to use that diplomatic moment.

“Judge Ca-ddus. I apologize for alarming you.” I took a shaky breath and walked back to my chair, turned it deliberately slowly back to the desk and sat down. “That item you thoughtfully brought me has many bad memories and experiences tied to it. I, uh, did not realize that any still existed.” Another shaky but calmer breath helped focus me. I closed my eyes and pictured my room mentally, using its familiarity as a calming influence for my body. I could feel the wire-tight tension ease as I mentally pictured each item in the room.

“I humbly accept your generosity and would have you know I meant no disrespect nor harmful intent. You are one of the few that know the nature of that creation and I am very desirous of temporarily procuring your abilities and expertise to determine the reason for its reappearance.” He gestured at my cup. “This was found in the hands of an Elf that had used it to overwhelm a Troll. The Elf has been judged and executed in accordance and balance to the crime committed. I have brought this to you to request your expert assistance.”

In truth, I never had a job I wanted to turn down so badly as this one. But one thing had changed my mind. The Troll. I saw Zhirk, who Zhira was named after in my head. His face dissolving in the shotgun blast. I shut my eyes again and went through my office again mentally, remembering where each item of my office was. It helped divert my mind from the horror of those vivid memories and let me release them instead of replaying each one again and again in my head.

“Judge Caddus, I must admit I would rather never to have anything to do with that object you brought.” I held up a hand as his face screwed up in stricken despair, which was a shock to see on his normally serene and stoic features. “I will help you. One thing I am sure we both have learned is that if you do nothing, evil like that flourishes.”

There was a faint ‘snap’ like a static shock. I, for better AND worse now, had a binding fae contract with the Judge. Gods and powers, I sounded like a freaking superhero or something. How much more pompous could I sound? I guess it was the right bit of bombast, because the Judge’s features smoothed out and I think I detected relief emanating from him.

“I thank you for your reminder that no one being need stand alone. We have to trust, and reach out to confront imbalance and chaos.” That was one way to put it. I’m certain I don’t mind imbalance and chaos, we humans live with that all the time. Perhaps they look at Imbalance as Injustice. I don’t know for certain. What I was absolutely sure of however, was that bottle was made to make misery and death. Ahiah had drunk from it and become immensely powerful.

That was burned into my memories. What I wasn’t sure of was the ‘why’. Why did it show up? Why did and Elf have it? I could somewhat understand his coming here. I was mixed up in that horror before. Both I and Fawn.

I’m certain he came to me because of our prior meeting, rather than go to Fawn. She represents human law, and Elvish law is not close at all to it. What we judge by is intent and morals of our society. What Elves judgment are certainly not on those qualities. I’m not certain what they are based upon, but one thing we are certain of is Elves despise Magick used for ill. They rightly hate and fear those powers that have free will to meddle in the physical world, especially those of malevolent nature.

Be it human, fae, or other, it was a monster that needed be caught and put away. I’d prefer it gone and buried and the bottles broken and tossed in the ocean. The problem would be to hunt it down. Which meant locating the source of the one the Judge had brought.

I looked over at the cup resting over the cursed bottle. “Judge Caddus, where did you acquire that particular item?” Diplomacy. Yep. No vicious names for things. No strong emotions. Nope, not a thing to unbalance the calm, or whatever passed for it currently.

“The bottle was procured from the remains of a burned oak on what you name Prince Edward Island.”

I went cold with memories again. Cobb. The tree. Kent and Kevin. Anolyn. Being possessed by him, and his rage at Cobb for making those abominations. I’d thought the dragon fire would have burnt them all. I looked up at the Judge, who seemed anything but calm now that we were discussing the main reason for our meeting. He appeared suddenly careworn. Deep lines were etched on his face that I hadn’t noticed earlier. Fae magic or just normal human inattention. Neither he or I reached for the cup to expose the bottle underneath.

“In the reopening of the way to PEI, we found the devastation that had been wrought upon the tree, and the abominations that were warped into its heart. We found the remains, and the tools to create.” He paused, as if to add a more colorful term, but refrained and continued. “We found a crate made of bespelled wood which had been destoryed by dragon fire. The Bottles inside broken and rendered inert.” He paused for a moment, like he was a movie actor about to dispense an ominous statement to make the audience gasp.

“There were four empty locations in the crate. We procured this one from an Elf that had used it on his own.”

My stomach churned at the thought of three of those things loose. But why Halifax? Wouldn’t Europe be a more fertile hunting ground for the users? Why here?

“I have found myself wondering why we are the recipient of such a menace. It would much simpler to go where the population is greatest. There one could hunt and use the bottle to their heart’s content. Disappearances would be lost in the myriad of other disappearances that occur daily in large populations. Your Nova Scotia is far from being a huge metropolis such as London. What would bring something so dangerous here?”

We were on the same wavelength, which made me wonder at the apparent coincidence. With Elves, never expect coincidence. I learned that already. Never ever trust in coincidence. It will trip you up at the worst possible time. So using the ‘there are no coincidences’ rule, the Judge was reading my mind or following my intent and using that to reinforce the idea in hopes of something breaking loose. I suppose it’s his method of helping, but, soooo not helpful.

“If you’re observing my thoughts, I recommend against it. Agreements of that nature do not help discovering new paths. Right now I’d love to talk to the person who had this bottle in their possession. Asking the right questions could get us answers where the others are.”

He bowed contritely. “I do apologize. This is a very dangerous investigation. I had hoped to assist in creating active thoughts that would find a method of advancing along this perilous conundrum. Please forgive my earnest error. I meant no insult nor harm.” Take note. He did apologize for his enthusiasm, not for trying to manipulate my thoughts. Always pay attention to what Elves say, and more to what they DON’T. I decided to let it go. In his own way, the Judge was doing his best to be helpful and cooperative. My job, as I saw it, was to track down the rest of the bottles. Just how was the real question.

Brandished Destinies Chapter 2 part 1

Larry waved us over to their pine picnic table. He had thoughtfully set out corn on the cob, American style french fries, water, and a salad bowl for a snack. He and Fawn had learned how much work went into marriage, and that no one family ever had it like the fairy tales. They had more good days than bad now, and Zhira was one reason why. I’d just sat down to grab an ear of corn, when my cellphone buzzed. An instant later, a shrill ringing came from an open window in their house.

Fawn grumbled and stalked toward the back screen door while I stayed outside with my cellphone so I could have a bit more peace and quiet since Larry and Zhira had followed her inside. Sinera, my secretary, didn’t waste any time with greetings.

“Fern, you have a potential client waiting for you here. What time shall I tell them you’ll be into the office?” I blinked.

“Umm, today’s Sunday. I’ll be in the office tomorrow morning.” I held the cellphone in front of me and checked the date. It agreed with me that it indeed was Sunday, and that at twenty-one Celsius, with clear skies, a hint of a north wind, and no threat of rain, it was a good day to be outside.

“I was contacted directly, and informed I must call you. I do not believe this is one client who will appreciate sitting in your office until tomorrow morning.”

The identity of the client was not my first thought. My first thought was how did she contact Sinera directly? Sinera’s an elf. She doesn’t have an official number. All of my calls get routed to an answering service when no one’s in the office, which is how weekends are, or are supposed to be. The immediate thought was that she’d been contacted magickally. If that was the case, it was someone we already knew because they knew of Sinera. Thinking about it, beyond my previous clients, who mostly preferred Magick stay away from them, had no idea how to get hold of Sinera. All I remember them using was the advertised phone number. That this person knew about Sinera well enough to contact her directly meant it was someone who knew her. That meant Elves. My client had to be an Elf. I have an aversion bordering on an allergy to Elves. Sinera is the notable exception. Elves live in Underhill. They do come to our world and trade goods, a number of them Magickal, for things they consider of value. Your guess is as good as mine what each one wants.

Elves are scrupulously truthful, but that does not mean they’re honest. An Elf will always look for the best way to present the truth and in such a manner so you want to believe it. They tell you what you want to hear using the truth as the lever and it’s a bit like the old joke about ‘proper diplomacy’ which is telling someone to go to hell in such a manner they look forward to the trip.

The most classic example of Elves I can think of is trading something for a service. That the service could span generations of humans doesn’t make the service any less legitimate, and it’s not slavery. It’s payment for a good or a service. Yes, it’s indentured servitude, but not slavery. Slavery is forcing servitude on another, indenture is someone agreeing to it.

“Should I be concerned that we might be dealing with a fae?”

“I would say yes to the might.”

I stayed quiet for a few moments, thinking. Sinera politely gave me time to gather my thoughts.

“Is it someone that you and I are familiar with?”

“Yes, you have had some unfortunate dealings in a legal decision some time ago.”

Legal decision. Only one person fit that description. Judge Caddus. He was forced to declare me beholden to the Elf Lord Cobb when I falsely accused him of deliberately bespelling me. His daughter did it, but the hard fact was he wasn’t the caster. No one except Cobb was happy with that, especially the Judge.

“Has he indicated what the reason for this emergency?”

“He has said he will only speak with you face to face, in your office.”

So not helpful.

“I’ll be there within the hour. If he offers anything in the way of a hint or explanation, give me a call. I’d like not to go in cold.”

“Understood. I will inform you if more information is revealed before you arrive.”

I ended the call and grabbed a second ear of corn. The Judge could wait a few more minutes. After nibbling my lunch, I stepped on inside to tell Fawn and Larry that I had to go over to my office. As I pulled the screen door open I spotted Fawn rummaging in the closet by the front door. She pulled out her police jacket she’d gotten as a new officer. She still wore it in preference to anything else. She settled it on her shoulders and flipped her blonde hair back, then bent down to give Zhira a hug.

“I have to go to work sweetie. I’ll be home soon.” She straightened up and shared a hug with Larry. They held onto each other for a moment more, looking into each others eyes until they noticed me watching.

“He shortstuff. I have to go in. There’s a crime that doesn’t appear standard. So the special unit will be covering it.”

I nodded. “It’s a day for it. I just got a call from Sinera that there’s a client who wants to see me now of all times. I have to go too.”

Larry reached down and picked up Zhira. She giggled and leaned over to Fawn to give her a kiss on the cheek. She then wiggled in Larry’s arm to give me one on the cheek and a pat of her hand.

“We keep corn” she said smiling.

“Yeah you will ‘cause it’s your favorite. I know you” I said laughing. There’s something about laughing innocence that lightens any mood. Here I was going to talk with a Elven Judge, and all I could think of was how nice a day it was. Children are magic.

The good mood stayed with me on my drive over to the office. I pulled into the near empty parking lot and parked the dull black PT cruiser under the lone light post in the lot. It was still missing the rear seats, but I hardly used them. The large back without the seats allowed me to carry a whole lot of things. I felt a stab of melancholy as I got out, closed and locked the door. There not so many around now which made it stand out more. TO do my job I was likely going to have to get a newer old car so it would fit in more when I had to stake out an area. The bright blue sky gave the red brick a more vivid color as I walked to the front door. Reality intruded on my happy mood as I began considering more the reasons an Elf Judge would need to see me so desperately.

I couldn’t think of a reason why and that bothered me more the closer I got to my office. When I pushed the door open of my classic nineteen thirties noir style office, enjoying the gritty ambiance with the four drawer file cabinets bolted to the bottom of the Murphy bed. The four-blade fan turned silently on its refurbished bearings over my large Oak desk with candlestick phone and new Rolodex that sat in gleaming black on the polished wood. The new bricks on the repaired section of wall stood out against the older faded ones. The only bit of ambiance missing was the neon glow of the building’s sign because it was too light outside for it’s orange color to be seen. This was home, moreso than any other place I’d lived.

Judge Caddus was in the guest chair next to my desk, in full formal dress. His dark blue robe covered him from shoulder to ankle and his boots were of bright blue laquered leather with some silver highlights. His pale hair was in a long tail between his shoulders. He stood up and bowed politely as I moved to my desk and sat down. He sat after me, the action telling me that he was requesting my help rather than standing and demanding it. Sinera had schooled me on some of the Elvish eitquette.

Whoever bows lower is the one requesting the meeting, and who stands last is the one who is petitioning the other for assistance. If they remain standing, they will be negotiating from a position of power and making demands. If they sit last, then it will be as a potential ally or looking for assistance. When both stand and sit at the same time with the other party, it is an armed truce to negotiate a settlement between them.

That he sat with me and stood until I began sitting meant he was not trying to pull rank. He was genuinely concerned about something, and that something was extremely upsetting, if I understood Sinera’s lessons properly. I smiled and did what I always did, start with small talk. It gets people, most of them, to be more at ease.

“Hello, Judge. It’s been a while since the last time we saw each other. I’m hoping you have been doing well for yourself.” He looked at me like I’d grown horns and hissed at him. Too late. Whatever gaffe I’d done I did accidentally. Judge Caddus calmed himself and realized the mistake. He actually smiled, if the faint raising of the lips was an Elvish smile.

“I am also unfamiliar with proper human reaction and form. Let us both understand our differences and allow each the room for unintentional error.”

I smiled. He’d spotted the problem and offered a complete solution that blamed neither and focused on understanding. I am nowhere near so diplomatic. I much preferred not fighting, but I had little tolerance for errors that could be avoided with a little effort such as study or practice.

I nodded to indicate I noticed his layered solution.

“Yes, let’s not get in a fight because of a misinterpretation of someone’s intent.” I paused a moment to let him consider the words. “If I am not being overbearing, may I ask what had you contact my partner Sinera directly and request this meeting on a day that is almost never an office work day?”

Brandished Destinies – Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

The blast of power blotted out the cloudless blue sky with a rippling distortion that turned everything grey. It smashed into me like a runaway truck. I held my ground and diverted the power upwards by imagining a curved surface in front of me. The surface did its job and the power flashed upwards to break apart in blots of grey surrounded by flecks of blue. Imagination is a great weapon when you don’t need a circle to cast, but you pay for it with headaches and lethargy. I had both in spades.

We’d finally gotten a handle on what we experienced facing off against a huge entity that a weird cult had put their compound over. Both Fawn and I suddenly could do major magic without needing any kind of practice or particular item to focus. It was just there. Believe me, we were very happy it was just there back then. We’d have died along with a lot of naked senseless people trapped in cabins that were going to be used for some kind of sacrificial ritual that would have wakened said enormous entity. That we’re still alive is a testament to sheer wild luck, and perhaps magic’s own agenda.

Larry has never heard of this kind of thing ever happening before. If Larry doesn’t know, it’s a good bet that it’s something potentially unprecedented. Which ratcheted up our own paranoia about becoming lab rat test subjects for the powers-that-be in Canadian government. We’ve kept what happened secret for our own peace of mind. Neither of us wants to give up our life as it is.

Fawn and Larry, through a lot of counseling and a lot of work, stuck together. Zhira, their daughter was born healthy and Fawn was pulled back from death’s embrace via shocking her heart back into action. I helped out for the first five months until Fawn told me to get lost and take care of myself. She’d recovered totally, and was the picture of Amazonian health. If anything, she looked more together than she had since high school.

She was back on her job and had been promoted again to precinct captain and still managed to hang on to the leadership of Dayning/Halifax police department’s magickal response team. That organization went through three incarnations before settling on the current the current ‘Special Response Unit’ moniker. The SRU was her special baby. Larry had given up on trying to get her to drop that position, but had at least gotten a compromise with her being the precinct captain which meant her forays into the field were now more limited.

Fawn relaxed and glanced over to her left, where Zhira was making sand castles with daddy Larry. She turned her gaze back to me.

“One more time?”

“No, I’m wore out. Spend some of that extra energy on those two” I laughed, then winced. I’ve said in the past that Magick is a pain, and now it was a literal pain in the head, and the metaphorical neck. It’d be a few minutes before the headache went away, but at least it’d go. I hadn’t been terribly interested in practicing Magick, especially since it was something that just came natural after being dragon possessed. What changed I don’t know, but after it happened the cases I got hooked into suddenly were a lot more weird and unsettling. The giant entity was the first and the most disturbing to me. The others were just plain weird.

The latest example of Weirdness was Klaus’s liquor store down the block from my office. He called me to solve a problem with missing stock. The security system he had showed no one in the place, and no one leaving. Bottles and kegs were full one moment, and empty the next. Not gone. Empty. How someone empties a full bottle of alcohol without removing the cap would have been beyond me before Prince Edward Island, now it would be simple. I’d have to do it one bottle at a time, but I could do it. Whoever had played this trick was way more practiced than I.

I looked everything over and couldn’t find anything – physically or Magickally – that even hinted at who, what, how, or why. I promised Klaus to come by later and bring Rynun along. I’d just gotten to my office when Klaus called me saying he’d found the missing booze.

One thing you should remember about Klaus is that he’s a bookie. He’s not big-time, and he deliberately keeps his client list small, which makes more like a hobby than a business. Anyways, he found the booze when he opened the door to the small back room where he has the booking operation. All of the booze had been transported into the room and nearly drowned him when he opened the door.

As it was his equipment was shot, and I think the critters in the sewers had a grand old time with that much booze flowing into the system all at once. I never did find out why or how that happened. Rynun wasn’t hanging around the alley any more so I couldn’t ask him. He’d returned to the area around my folk’s old cabin since the spell conjuring up Ahiah was finally broken. I rubbed the nub of my little finger. Ahiah had bitten it off during that fight. He’d been banished back to the ground.

I’d tried to forget that particular nightmare for two years without any luck. It seems more than just my Magickal abilities were improved. My memory was nearly eidetic now. Maybe that was a reason why I could do spells so easy and without a circle. I could remember every sense and feeling, for lack of a better description, of each spell.

It made my head swim thinking about it and I turned my attention to my niece. Zhira was two. Her birthday was last week, and she’d gotten a genie costume. Yes, she wanted one. How did we know? She told us. Yes, at twenty months she was forming sentences. Not great ones, but definite, distinct, sentences. She saw the costume on sale for Halloween. Yes, that’s still a holiday, only one with more meaning than before. Regardless, she saw it and wanted it. And ‘Auntie’ Fern just couldn’t say no.

She hadn’t taken it off since she’d opened her present, with exceptions to wash it. I could only wonder what she’d be like by four if this was two. Maybe she’d be casting spells though gods I hoped not. Which brought my thoughts over to Fawn and I.

I find it amazing how Magick fitted itself to us in such disparate forms and yet so appropriately. Fawn’s Magick works internally. Basically she can harden her skin, increase her strength, speed, vision, hearing, etc. Anything dealing with physical attributes, she can do it. Me, mine’s all external. Fire, water, earth, air. The four classical alchemical elements. I could lift and toss rocks up to the size of a bulldozer over two kilometers, create heat that could melt brick and cause the earth to glaze. I could form shapes from my imagination, just like the earlier ramp to divert Fawn’s attack away from me.

That brings me to the most interesting part. We’re both huge Magick batteries. Whatever happened to us at the circle, created a result that Fawn and I constantly drew Magick into us. Plus if we’re within a few meters of each other, our skills blend. Each of us is the power source for the other.

We can do those Magickal things each other can do. Fawn can punch power at me; I can harden Magick around me. They’re not quite the same, but it is close in form. If we hold hands, we become one source that can do everything. We think the same, hear the same. Our powers become one all encompassing cauldron of power that is anything we deem it to be. It’s intoxicating, and scares the both of us all the way to our toenails.

Something that feels that good without any apparent limits is something to avoid using. Magick is seductive enough on regular days. It’s why a number of potential wizards don’t live long enough to become wizards. They play with power and want more to play with because it’s like a heavy shot of your favorite method of getting high.

Drunk on power is not just a metaphor. Knowing when you’re getting into that kind of power is what keeps you alive and sane. It made us paranoid. We did some research and had Larry help us out. We found nothing describing what was going on with us.

Larry is still hunting through whatever’s on the ‘net. And we live as quietly as we can with this power and try not to go too crazy with it all. Thankfully Zhira seems unaffected by it. She’s a normal active little girl with curly Ash blonde hair and the most intense violet eyes. Eyes like that usually presages Magickal ability, and with her parents, it’s kind of a given she’d be some kind of Magick wielder. Honestly, I’m looking forward to seeing it and dreading it at the same time.

Magick is has been the one big constant in my life since the craziness started happening with Hervald Thensome. I could definitely do without more crazy Magick. Which was why Fawn and I were practicing. You know the old saying of ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’? We knew it was going to happen. Magick’s got its own agenda, and like it or not anyone that practices Magick is part of that ongoing agenda. Anyways, reminiscing can get you really lost in your own head. However, sometimes the past comes knocking at your door. When it does, you really should avoid answering. I’d left the door wide open and the past came waltzing through in full party mode. What’s a girl going to do? Well, in this case, throw a party.

Radecki / Dark : Emerald Flight : Star Wing – Chapter 11 – Rude Awakenings

Elizabeth watched Captain Devereux wait impatiently at the shuttle bay airlock as the atmosphere slowly equalized.  Rusty’s statement that the shuttle had an alien survivor aboard surprised everyone on the bridge.  Now all those that could be at the bay, were there, waiting to glimpse this ‘survivor’.   A new species?  What do we call it?  Heck, what does it call itself?  She’d decided on calling the survivor an ‘it’ since she had no idea of gender, or even if there was one in the classical sense.  How does something survive in a vacuum?  What kind of tech makes up the suit?  How long was it out there?  Was it pirates?  Smugglers?   

Elizabeth checked her tablet, enlarging the box that held an alert from Petty Officer Ratko.  She tapped it open and read.  Got it done, now you owe me one, Lizzy.  Ratko.  P.S.  Let the ball come to you next time.  Manuel is still limping after you ran him over.  He’s looking forward to a rematch.  Call him on it, his backhand’s lousy.  R.

Elizabeth smiled and saved the message.  She wondered if she could actually beat Manuel the next time they played. Could he handle it if I did? Probably,  he’s got a nice… Her reminiscence was cut off by Captain Devereux.  “Commander,  there are two things I want done immediately”, she told Elizabeth.  Elizabeth couldn’t remember hearing the captain sound so excited in a long while.  She listened intently as Devereux continued.  “First, re-plot the field now that the interference is gone.  Make certain we have direction and drift.  Once you’re certain you can find it blindfolded,  I want you to assign someone to image and catalog the pieces brought back.  Then make a roster for an extended EVA mission.  Use your judgment on numbers and equipment.  We’ve got enough time to get a couple larger pieces for study.”

“Yes, Captain. I’ll get right on it,” she answered. A grin that matched Devereux’s grew on her lips.  Image and catalog.  I’ll get to see them first! I am so glad I’m here and not on the Washington.  Captain Dresden would have never bothered to alter course to check a lowly debris field.  She tapped the tablet again, saving the captain’s orders in a box, and highlighting it.  

She moved towards the hatchway, tapping Gogorsky on the shoulder as she moved past him.  “Gogo, you’re with me,” she said.  “We’ve got artifacts to catalog”.  She smiled when ‘Gogo’ said “yesss!”  after a short moment, and she could see that signature fist pump he did when he got excited.  She continued through the hatch and headed to cargo hold D.  She heard his long stride on the deck behind her as he hurried to catch up.  At exactly two meters tall, Gogo reminded her of the old 2-D animated tale of Ichabod Crane. With his large ears and prominent Adam’s Apple, he resembled the fictional schoolteacher to a great degree.

Chop was waiting for them as Elizabeth and Gogorski entered the bay.  Ratko gave Elizabeth a very ill-tempered glare as she approached.  “Gonna need four hundred cubic meters, huh?”, he growled, sounding a lot like the pirate he resembled.  “I got you six hundred, and the shuttle says it has barely twelve.”   he folded his arms and turned his glare on Gogorski, who looked over to Elizabeth.  

“Chop”, she said, “You’re checked out on EVA?”  Ratko’s glare returned to Elizabeth.  She noted there was a glint of interest in it now.  “Yes, I’m checked out, and you know it.”    “I know.  Want to put it to use?”, she said.  “I’m putting a salvage team together, you’re in since you’ve got experience.”  She arched an eyebrow and said, “That is, if you want to.  This is all volunteer.”  “I’m in!”, Gogorski said excitedly, “I..”, Elizabeth silenced him with a look, then turned back to Ratko, who had a very large grin on his face.  “A chance to go floating?  In a heartbeat, Lizzy, err, Commander”, he said, rubbing his hands together.  “I volunteer.”

Smiling, Elizabeth looked over, and up, to Ensign Gogorski.  “I’m checked out for EVA”, he said quickly. “Chief  insisted everyone in Engineering get certified for EVAs and repair.”  He looked down at her, excitement showing in his eyes, and his eager grin.  “You’re in, Gogo”, she said, and turned to Ratko.  She took a moment to think about the situation.  Am I going to have to go EVA?  Thank god no, the captain asked me to put the team together.  That means to oversee and choose a field leader.  The Chief? No.  He’s due time down.    Who else has been out there?  Okay, Ratko’s team leader.  I’ll have hmm, Singh as his second.  She closed her eyes and winced a little at the idea.  Won’t that just please the Chief.  He’ll be chewing my ear off why he should be in charge and out there.  

“You’re in charge, so you’ll be reporting to me, Chop”, she said and fixed what she hoped was a steely gaze on him.  “That won’t be a problem will it?”  Ratko scowled visibly at Elizabeth, then sighed and gave her a piratical grin.  “There’ll be no problem, Commander.  My word on that.”  Elizabeth nodded, then tapped an icon on her tablet, pulling up names with EVA experience, and began selecting the team.  “Singh is going to be your second.  Beyond you, and the others already logging space time, Singh has the most hours EVA.”   the Petty Officer’s grin faded slightly, not quite disappearing from his face.  “Can do, I’ll pick the rest if you’re fine with that”, he said.  “You can send your requests and I’ll approve them.”  Ratko smiled again.  “You got it, Commander, I’ll make certain they’re the right ones for the job.”

#

Rusty watched as Hope maneuvered the winged body onto the diagnostic table.  The lack of gravity made Hope’s efforts easier, as the body would go any direction with just a push.  It was also harder, as the woman’s limbs and wings would tend to splay out, making it difficult to position her on the table.  

“Let me help you, Doc”, Rusty said with a smile. “She’s putting up quite a fight, isn’t she?”  Both he and Jefferies moved at the same time to assist her.  Rusty moved deliberately in front of the older man, cutting off his movement. He grinned and moved opposite of Hope.

Hope looked up at him, then said, “Turgidity.”

“Tur-whatty?”, Rusty queried.  “Doc, I know all sorts of technical jargon, but I don’t know that.”

“Fluid pressure”, Jeffries replied.  “In space with no gravity, fluid sets up pressure in the body so arms and legs tend to…”  “All right, prof, I get it”, Rusty said.  The guy looks for a reason to irritate me, I swear.   He turned his attention to Hope and the being on the table.  Jeffries moved away to help Tsu-tao record images of the salvage.  Lieutenant Ferahim wandered around the two men, occasionally helping Jeffries roll a larger piece over to get a full view of it.

Hope gathered in the wing first, pressing it slowly back against the body. Then, using her other hand to push the arm in, folding gently over the wing to hold it in place.  Rusty mirrored her movements, getting the limbs against the body.  Hope quickly released the arm and drew a restraining strap over the upper chest of the creature’s body to hold it down, then  ran a second strap at the waist, and a third above the knees.   As he gazed at Hope’s actions, his attention was caught by a faint flash of light.   

The diagnostic table flickered as the red heartbeat icon pulsed, with a green line that Rusty remembered was blood pressure. Another showed a white, wildly flickering motion that was brainwave patterns, while a fourth showed a broken blue line that he didn’t recognize.  Ferahim stood next to the table for a moment, peering at the numbers.

There was a flash of light just to his left.  He turned his head, and watched Jefferies and Tao-tsu working on the salvage pieces.  Jefferies would carefully turn the irregular piece over for Tao-tsu image capture.  The two men seemed to be in their own world, talking back and forth as they worked.  I wonder if they’re comparing notes  

He looked over at the statuesque woman admiringly.  She seemed to take no notice of him, but he could feel her gaze.  She’s sneaky, I didn’t even know she was there.  I like that in a woman.  “Why isn’t there a radiation value?”, she asked Hope.  “I do not know”, was all the reply Hope gave her as she continued to adjust straps and slowly move the wings to wrap around the entity.

Jefferies and Tao-tsu walked over to the small crowd around the table.  Tsu-tao stopped a few feet away, content to gaze from a distance.  Ferahim smiled at Tsu-tao, then moved to stand next to him.  He returned her smile with a warm one of his own, and turned his gaze back to the debris.  Oh, I never saw that coming!  Tsu-tao, you devious wrench monkey.  He chuckled then returned his gaze to the unconscious winged girl.  No suit. No protection we understand, and she’s alive after, Morris knows how long, in space.  

“How, by the Morris, does something…”, he was cut off as the shuttle bay doors finished closing and Pryafox began to pressurize the bay.  “How does something, well, live like that?”, he finished.  Jeffries reply was a grunt and a mumbled, “Who knows?”  Hope looked over to him, and said, “I don’t know”, and returned to checking the straps and the readouts. 

Sykes and Tuggle started to gather the portable radiation detector.  The suits made maneuvering difficult, and slow.  Their magnetic boots made faint clunks against the metal deck in the now-thin atmosphere of the hold as they muscled the detector onto the carrier.    “We’ve got adequate pressure, so you all can unbuckle your fishbowls”, Pryafox’s voice came over the speakers.  “Our ETA back to Emerald Flight is about five minutes, so you all can relax and please enjoy the ride.”

Rusty chuckled as he watched Hope focus on the readings.  “I’d almost think you know her, Doc”, he said 

“I do not”, Hope returned, still intent on the readings.  Rusty had seen Hope focused before, but never to this intensity.  She seemed mesmerized by the readings in front of her.   He watched the Aerian turn the diagnostic table to standby and ready it for transfer back to the Emerald Flight

He looked over to the radiation detector.  “I got it”, he said, knowing full well that no one else wanted to touch the delicate looking instrument.  He grinned, and disassembled the detector down into component parts.  He strapped the pieces down securely onto a rolling pallet.  The magnetic wheels kept it firmly anchored to the floor.  Rusty turned on the motor and guided it next to the airlock door.    

He watched Hope wheel the diagnostic table to the door, lock it, and wait.  Leaning against the wall, he waited as Pryafox slowly drifted the shuttle to a precise landing back in its own bay.    The airlock floor vibrated as the doors closed and locked.  Rusty could begin to hear faint noises outside his helmet as pressure equalized.  “When are visiting hours, Doc?”, Rusty said as the shuttle loading door slowly swung open.  Hope, looked up, a puzzled look on her features.  Sykes and Tuggle moved through the airlock, breaking Rusty’s concentration.  He looked up to see Tuggle grab the pallet holding the detector and wheel it through the hatchway.  Hope was close on his heels with the diagnostic table.

Rusty watched Hope for a moment, a worried frown on his face that quickly disappeared. I am going to have to see what’s going on with Hope.  She’s totally fixated on that winged girl.  There’s something about her that the Doc just won’t let go of, and that’s not like her.  The worried look shifted to one of purpose. I think I’ll go see what all this is about.  What does she see in that girl anyways?    His devil-may-care demeanor returned, and he grinned to himself.  Whatever it is, I’m going to find out.  He stepped over to the medical equipment, and began Pryafox load it onto the carrier pallet.

#

Devereux looked down at her wrist display, then spread her fingers to enlarge the data display.   The holographic image enlarged to a full three-dimensional picture of Emerald Flight, the shuttle, and the near edge of the debris field.   “Tactical, get me a display of the full field”, she said.  Her display swerved then pulled back, showing the slightly elongated sphere of material. 

She used her hand to turn the display to a mostly overhead view that showed the location of Emerald flight next to the field.  She murmured quietly at the screen, “Show anything with a organic signature in yellow.”  A number of yellow dots appeared on the screen, most just the near side of center.  She considered the hologram for a moment longer, then collapsed it back down, the hologram shrinking to a small sphere on the upper edge of the wrist display.

“Update the field and send me the data”, she said to Hawkes, who nodded and replied, “Yes, Captain.”  He tapped at his console,  then said, “Mapping and analysis should be finished in two hours, Captain.”  Devereux nodded, and turned to the communications station.

“Lieutenant Martine, contact the Paragon colony.  Tell them, we’re going to be staying here to research this field.  We’ll be here for two standard days before resuming course.  Verify this delay with the colony to make certain we’re not needed sooner.”  “Yes, sir.  I’ll take care of it”, the Martine replied.  Christine watched as the Lieutenant pulled Paragon up to inform them of the delay in their estimated arrival.   Her thoughts drifted as she pulled up the field again.  Scott would have been jumping at the chance to explore that field.  And Thad,  he would be out there already, and we’d be yelling at him to slow down and wait.

She blinked, and felt the familiar ache form around her heart.  Scott, I wish so much you were here. Christine’s gaze unfocused, as if looking back in time to another place, then her eyes blinked, and she looked to the tactical station.   “Lieutenant Hawkes, you have the bridge until I return.”  Hawkes looked up at her, and adjusted his spectacles.  His steady gaze stayed on Christine for a moment before he answered,“Yes, Captain”.  He returned to his board, tapping at it as Devereux stepped through the hatchway, and followed the corridor towards her cabin.  Funny, I was just thinking it didn’t hurt any more, and here I am, walking it off all over again. 

Her footsteps carried her past her quarters, along the slanting corridor down to Engineering, and past the huge, synchronized slipstream engines.  Her pace slowed as she looked over at them.  Scott and Thad both had a hand in every drive that was made.  Everything we’ve got is possible because of them.  Space, and the chance to explore.  

She made an abrupt about-face, and, her jaw set, returned the way she came.  It’s not going to rule my life.  We both made the choice.  It’s done.  Christine Devereux, accept what you can’t change, and wait for the things you can.  Scott, you always had an answer for everything.  

Her wrist comm hummed. Christine raised her arm to chest level, looking down at it.  A small, green dot of light enlarged to a small hologram of Hawke’s face.  “Captain, the shuttle has docked.”   “Thank you, Lieutenant”, she replied, then told Hawkes, “Have a security team with our ‘guest’ to keep the gawkers away, and give Hope an extra pair of hands in case there’s a need for them.”  She knew Hawkes would take the last statement as an ‘in case’ the survivor woke up.  If it did, Hope might need and extra person or two to help calm  or control the situation.

 She tapped at the base of the hologram, which shrunk to a small light on the surface of the comm.  It’s not like I’m not curious.  Something like that wreckage will have a lot of the off-duty personnel down there to get a look at whatever it.  I’m already partway there.  She reversed her direction again, and strode towards the shuttle bay.   

#

Hawkes checked his simulations.  Most of them had progressed adequately, showing that the distribution of security throughout the ship should be adequate to corner and recapture an angry, hostile Star Blood.  Hawkes reflected on his experience.  

Star Bloods are the shock troops of the Aerian military, deployed when extreme military measures are required.  They use symbiotic organic armor. The armor protects its wearer, and augments strength and endurance. The symbiote also can protect a Star Blood for up to seventy hours in space by burning its own tissue to create oxygen and nutrients for the host. Strength is on the order of three to four times human standard.  

He looked down at his board, then pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.  He copied all the medical information to the simulation and then watched the scenario unfold.  After fifteen simulations, he concluded the best method was a two step trap.  First, lure the Star Blood into a section of the ship with no immediate cover.  Second, use portable sonic emitters to disorient and push it into the open for tranquilizers or energy weaponry.

With the Star Blood carapaces, Hawkes preferred the sonics, as the weapon required a less precise aim.  The sonics would not knock the Star Blood unconscious, but would severely disorient and weaken it.  Tranquilizers were still the most effective method of control, if used as an aerosol or misted spray. Darts would be effective only if skin and not the carapace was struck.  He made a few personal notes on his tablet, then set them aside, minimized, along the left edge of the screen.  He set the tablet down and returned his attention to the station board.

“Sergeants Sykes, Tuggle.  Please send me a visual feed, along with any biological data the Ship’s Physician has acquired”, he said firmly.  “Yes, sir”, Tuggle replied with a soft rasp to his voice.  “The Doc heard you and is uploading to your board now.”  A small icon appeared on Hawkes’ flatscreen, glowing blue and pulsing.  He tapped it open, reading the data.  The live feed from Tuggle’s camera allowed him a close view of the being.  The wings are reminiscent of Aerian physiology.  He continued to make notes of the being’s immediate features.

No visible armor, no visible weaponry, wings, no spines.  It doesn’t appear to be of the same race, despite similarities.  “Sergeant Sykes, please press one of the being’s fingers just below the tip?”, Hawkes ordered.  He watched Sykes’ camera close in, then an extended finger pressed against the beings.  Nothing happened.  “Did you note any unusual stiffness in the finger or perhaps a bony protrusion?”, he asked the sergeant.  “Nothing sir”, Sykes said.  “No venom sacks or claws”, Hawkes said dispassionately. There was a long silence, then Sykes and Tuggle said in unison, “Say what?”.    

“Do not touch the body”, Hope said firmly.  “Yes ma’am”, Sykes and Tuggle replied together.  Hawkes watched the view turn, then one person, Tuggle, raised his hand and grabbed the edge of the diagnostic table, and pushed it, following the medical specialist.   Sykes showed a step behind Tuggle in the hallway.  Hawkes noted that if upright, the being would be rather similar physically to the medical specialist, and perhaps a half head taller.

“Sergeants, have you seen a similar being before in your experiences?”, Hawkes queried them as the men followed Hope to the Infirmary.  “You mean, other than Star Bloods? You know more than me or Tug, Lieutenant.  You fought them.”, Sykes replied.  He shifted the carrier left to avoid some personnel in the hallway before moving back to the center of the deck, following the short, slim form of Hope. “I’ve never seen wings on anything other than bugs.”

“Understood”, Hawkes replied, then lapsed into silence.  Am I missing something?  Could this be a Star Blood of some form?  Hawkes brought his tablet from its holster, then tapped open a series of boxes, looking up what was known of Star Bloods. After scanning the physiological information briefly, he was certain this creature had no relation to them in any manner.  It is too small, too light for a Star Blood. There is no symbiote.  And there are no physical markers to any other race in the database either. What is it?  He ran a hand through his hair then pushed his glasses up his nose again.  No matter, once the Doctor runs a complete suite of tests, there will be much more data to compare.

“Move the table there”, Hope told the men.  Once the table was maneuvered into place, Hope addressed the two men once more. “Leave”, she said in a way that had both men almost scurrying for the entry.  Hawkes snapped out of his musings, and returned his attention to the Medical Officer’s preparations.  Monitoring equipment. Diagnostic sensors. Data gathering. More data gathering, and no thought to security or defense, Hawkes thought with a slight flash of irritation.  The infirmary needs security on that creature until we know it’s not needed.  Hawkes keyed the comm channel.  

“Sergeants, you will stay at the medical facilities and maintain security overwatch on the unknown.”  Hawkes paused, then added, “Four hour shifts.  Remain alert.”  “Aye, sir”, Tuggle replied. “We’ll make sure sleeping beauty’s not disturbed.” He heard a chuckle from Sykes.  “Make certain the automatic quarantine security is active. Hawkes out”, he said, then turned to his other duties, designing and running another capture and containment simulation.  

#

Hope stared impassively at the two security personnel.  “Out. By the door.”, she said in a level tone.  “Aye, Doc”, Tuggle said with a smile.  “ You won’t know we’re here.”  

“Yes. I will.” Hope replied with the faintest trace of irritation.

Tuggle suddenly looked like he bit into something sour, and a small grin grew on Sykes’ face as Hope waited for them to leave.  “Never argue, Tug”,  Sykes chuckled, “She’s literal.”  “I noticed”, Tuggle replied.  Hope ignored their chatter; there were other things on her mind at the moment.  Foremost was the patient in quarantine.  The readings have to be confirmed.  I can’t make a mistake.  If the initial values are true, then I may have a sequence I can use.  “No visitors”, she told the security team,  then turned and strode to the quarantine room.  Hope unlocked the sliding door, raising it open, and stepped in.  The winged creature was still unconscious, and still strapped to the table.   The diagnostic table was recording information as it had been left.  Hope switched the computer to voice activation.  “Reset.  Zero all readings.  Turn off all sensors.  Come active”, she said slowly in her raspy, stilted English.

She ran the entire suite of diagnostic scans again. Doing every step by hand, one at a time, in complete detail. Hope made certain there was no result due to genetic drift within known species.  She laboriously tabulated each result and ran comparisons against every genome in the medical database.  She double-checked correlations between every one of them, regardless of how different the values appeared.

The initial data finished in fifteen minutes, and confirmed her first impression.  There was no doubt in her mind, and with that, more questions than she had anticipated.  She set the data aside, then looked over at the quarantine room door, as if trying to peer through it.  

She is my species, one that has never been even hinted at in the historical archives.  How do I begin to explain something that has no history, yet exists?  Is this an enemy, or an ally, or perhaps an experiment by the Creators? I do not know the answer yet.  I will find it.  First, I must know the age of the wreckage.  That will at least be an indicator of when she was trapped.  Hope left the quarantine room, closing the heavy glass door.  She turned to go to the culturing lab, then paused.  What am I feeling?  There’s something I can sense. I can almost know it.

Hope looked over to the desk with the data on it, then back at the shadowy figure behind the translucent quarantine glass, and then over to the diagnostic readouts.  She switched through the screens:  physiology, chemical analysis, brainwave patterns, radiation, energy, nervous system.  She was excited, and frustrated, by the winged Aerian.  What is she?  Somewhat like the Star Blood, and not.  Wings longer than tall yet too small to be functional.  No symbiotic armor.  No evidence of any symbiote whatsoever.  No protection from vacuum, yet, no damage from vacuum. No damage from radiation.  No damage from her, she groped for the proper description. Semi-solid state?  What kind of conditions created that state?

She adjusted the controls, setting a deeper constant scan.  There must be something in the cellular structure.  Could she be old enough? Hope focused, inhaled, and using a calming exercise, quietly counted twelve heartbeats while exhaling slowly.  As she pondered the information streaming across the readouts, she heard the distinctive cadence of the Chief Engineer’s thudding footsteps as he reached the infirmary. 

“Uh, Chief, Doc said no visitors”, Sykes told him. Rusty chuckled and replied, “I’m not visiting.  I’m here for follow-up testing.  Doc still wants to look inside my noggin, and convince herself the empty space is supposed to be there.”   He tapped the side of his head with his knuckles as the two men shared a soft chuckle.  “Go on in Chief”, Tuggle told him.  Hope set the scan to record, then turned to face him.  I will reschedule his scans for later.  She looked at Rusty with a hint of impatience as he toured the infirmary like a tourist gawking at something he’d never seen before.

“Anything new, Doc?” Rusty said with a grin.  “Is our space angel awake? Or is she still gettin’ her beauty sleep?”  He sauntered over to the quarantine chamber where the winged woman lay, then tapped theatrically on the translucent glass.  Hope stared at him, then at the motionless shape just beyond.  An involuntary ‘chrrr‘ of anger slipped past her lips.

“Stop.”  

Rusty held his hands up, palms to Hope, and stepped back from the glass.  She advanced slowly, menacingly towards the Chief, her  arms spreading, as if mantling wings over something precious.  Her angry ‘chrrr‘ repeated as she backed him towards the entry.  Rusty’s smile faltered as he took a step back from her, sensing he had stepped over an unspoken line.  

“Leave.”

She continued to steer Rusty out of the room, her sheer force of personality driving him one step through the hatchway just as a series of warning beeps sounded from the readout panel.  The sound stopped both Hope and Rusty in mid-step.  Ignoring the Chief Engineer completely, she quickly moved to the display.  Rusty blinked at Hope’s sudden shift of attention, then followed her back in.  Hope scanned the readouts, which showed a dramatic spike in brainwave activity.  She turned to look at the quarantine cell, and the world blew apart.

Radecki / Dark : Emerald Flight : Star Wing – Chapter 4 – Cloudy Space

( Things are starting to get a bit more interesting as the ship begins to work into the debris field.  Microgravity as envisioned is a small but comparatively intense gravitational field that can effect ship travel.  Enjoy Chapter 4 🙂 )

 

Elizabeth walked the bridge, trying to ignore the cold sensation of dampness between her shoulder blades. The collar of her uniform adhered with clammy wetness against her skin. She had given up try to pull it away.

What I wouldn’t give for ten minutes alone with a hair dryer . . .

Status reports from the various stations throughout the ship appeared on the tablet she held. Other than on the bridge, things appeared routine through the ship. Until they were close enough to actually enter the main body of the debris cloud, there was little else beyond their usual jobs for anyone else to do.

The Captain had come back down from the command, apparently surrendering to her urge to be closer to where the action was happening. She paced a slow circuit between the helm and main Science station. Neither Pyrafox nor Gho had anything interesting yet to report. Elizabeth could tell, though, that they were both growing increasingly nervous under the Captain’s constant attention. She suppressed a tiny smile at the sight, silently glad that Captain Devereux’s attention was on someone else for a little while.

I can’t believe I was late. I’m never late.

That had been true even at the Academy, although it had been a near thing on more than a few occasions. There was that one morning in particular when she had slipped in the rain crossing the quad from the dormitories. Her stumble sent her tablets and other materials skidding across the wide puddles. Commander Atchison had given her no sympathy, and had seemed genuinely irked that she could not grant Elizabeth at least one demerit for tardiness. The last Elizabeth had heard, Commander Ilsa Atchison was still terrifying second-year cadets in both intermediate quantum mathematics and championship volleyball.

Her eyes kept drifting back toward the main hatch. She had seen the Chief escorted away by the two guards, followed by Hope. Some part of her, though, still expected him to walk back through the hatchway with his usual jaunty smile and stride.

“Elizabeth?”

Devereux’s voice interrupted her reverie.

Elizabeth’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Twice in the same day? I’m going to be back on reclamation maintenance before mid-shift at this rate.

“Yes, Captain?” she answered as smartly as she could manage. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Devereux replied, studying her carefully, “exactly.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth said, almost too softly to hear. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’m . . . I’m worried about the Chief.”

Devereux’s expression softened and yet also became serious. That makes two of us, is what Elizabeth thought she would say.

Instead, the Captain responded with, “I understand.”

Her eyes darted toward the main hatch for a moment before turning back to Elizabeth.

“Hope will let us know when she has something to report,” Devereux went on. “For now, I need you to do your job.”

Elizabeth’s face tingled again. “Yes, sir.”

Devereux looked at the main bridge displays and then over toward Gho at the Science station.

“Who’s in charge in Engineering?”

It took Elizabeth a moment to realize that the Captain was addressing her.

“The Ch—“ she cut off her automatic response, looking down at the tablet she carried before anyone could see her reaction. She consulted the duty roster before answering. “Lieutenant Aruna, sir.”

Devereux nodded slowly. “Ask her to assign a team to monitor the starboard sensor junctions. I don’t want us to miss anything if something in the cloud interferes with those units.”

“Yes, Captain.” Elizabeth entered the appropriate orders onto her tablet and then looked back up at Devereux. “Anything else, Captain?”

Devereux thought for a moment before answering.

“Not right now,” she said. “Return to your duties.”

“Yes, sir.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard, determined to remain focused and make no further mistakes that day. Taking a firm grip on her tablet, she began another circuit of the bridge.

#

Rusty paused in the corridor outside the infirmary.  He noticed then that the two Security guards were still with him. Although they remained stoically composed, Rusty was convinced that they were as uncertain as he was about what they should do next. The Captain had given them no orders what to do after they had escorted him to the infirmary.

I’d better decide before they do.

As he was still technically on-duty, he could not return to his quarters. He quickly considered his other options Going to the bridge probably meant lots of questions, almost none of which he could answer. He did not know any more than what Hope had told him—and that he had barely understood. From what he had gleaned, his brain appeared to be producing extra Gamma waves. As they had not seemed to have granted him telepathic or telekinetic powers, his interest had pretty much ended there.

Engineering, he decided. Fewer questions.

Word of his trip to the infirmary had probably already circulated among the crew, but it would be a lot easier for him to deflect those on his home turf than on the bridge. He took only a few steps toward the shaft that would take him to the Engineering Deck. The guards fell into step behind him after a moment of shared uncertainty.

“You two don’t have something better to do?” Rusty asked them, trying to sound annoyed.

“Captain’s orders, sir,” the dark-haired one on the left replied. While taller than his partner, he was the clearly the younger of the two.

“That’s interesting,” Rusty countered conversationally. “I heard her tell you to take me to the infirmary. I didn’t hear nothing about you tailing me around the entire ship.” He stared at each guard individually for a moment. “I mean, I’m flattered and all . . .”

The two guards exchanged a long look.

“I’ll need to check with the Captain,” the older one finally told Rusty.

“You do that,” he agreed. “I’m heading for Engineering.”

Without waiting for a reaction, he turned and continued on his way. A moment later, he heard two sets of footsteps echoing behind his own. As he climbed into the shaft, he considered sliding down the rails and scampering off on a higher deck just to see how the guards reacted. He bowed to reason, though, deciding that being monitored on the Engineering Deck was far preferable to being subjected to it in the brig.

He exited the shaft and entered Engineering. Without turning, he addressed the guards.

“Just stay out the way,” he warned them. “Or I’ll put you to work.”

He did not bother to check their expressions. What he imagined was amusing enough. Humming quietly, he strolled across the deck.

#

Devereux remained on the command deck, although she was sorely tempted to follow Elizabeth on her rounds throughout the bridge. Like her First Officer, she was deeply concerned about her Chief Engineer’s recent behavior. Even during his previous assignment aboard the ship, despite his other shortcomings, he had at least been reliable.

“Captain,” Gho called out from the Science station. Although she addressed the Captain, she received the attention of everyone present on the bridge. “We’re picking up some more detailed readings now.”

“Post the data on Screen Three,” Devereux told her.

The scene of the star field ahead was replaced by a representation of the data coming in from the ship’s sensors. As they watched, the information was updated in real-time, the numbers and graphs changing as new data as the systems received new data.

Some of it made sense to Devereux; much of it did not. She recognized the spectroscopic and metallurgical analyses, even if she did not understand what some of the details meant.

“It looks the typical ores and elements you’d expected to see from a moon or asteroid,” she remarked.

Gho nodded in agreement. Devereux felt tiny swell of pride that she had interpreted the data correctly. Her training and experience leaned more heavily on the tactical side. The hard sciences were not her strong suit.

“The configuration is strange, though,” Gho said, highlighting the boundaries of the debris field on the screen. “There’s a lot more dust than you’d expect and not as much mass still in larger chunks.”

“Debris from a comet then?”

Gho studied the results again. “I don’t think so, Captain. The mass and elements don’t match any comets we’ve ever recorded. Although there are organic components.”

That got Devereux’s attention. Pyrafox’s ears perked up as well.

“Organic?”

Gho nodded, appearing unsurprised. “Organic compounds have been found on a number of comets,” she replied. “Nothing complex, though,” she explained. “Mostly simple hydrocarbons.”

Devereux continued to study the image in silence, watching as its resolution slowly improved. Behind her, Gho took deep breath that sounded a lot like an exasperated sigh.

“What’s wrong, Lieutenant?” Devereux asked, turning to face the young Science officer.

“I’m still having trouble getting clear readings from one section of the debris field,” she answered. She tapped controls on her console and the previous highlighting on the main screen was replaced by a new one position toward the upper right quadrant of the field.

“What’s there?” Devereux asked.

 “I don’t know,” Gho replied, shaking her head. “There’s something scrambling the sensors in that section of the cloud. We can’t get a clear reading.”

“What would do that?” Devereux asked. “Do the sensors need calibrated?”

Gho tapped some controls and intently studied one of her console displays for a moment. “The sensors seem fine,” she reported. “And there’s any number of things that might confuse the sensors.”

Devereux nodded at that.

I know a few tricks for doing that myself. Almost none of them, though, exist without artificial means.

She studied the image on the screen again, paying particular attention to the area that Gho had highlighted. She found the data associated with that region, but saw nothing that caught her eye as unusual—other than that it was annoying incomplete.

“Let’s take a closer look,” she announced quietly. “Helm,” she called to Pyrafox. “Slow our approach to one-quarter. Head toward the patch there on the outer edge.”

“Aye, Captain,” Pyrafox acknowledged quickly. “Slowing to one-quarter. Adjusting course.”

Devereux watched the navigational display as their velocity and heading changed. She turned back toward the Science station.

“Anything new yet?”

Gho studied her displays for a moment before shaking her head. “Not yet, sir” she replied, sounding disappointed. “I think we’re going to have to get a lot closer before we can punch through the interference.”

Devereux nodded her understanding. Although it was the prudent thing to do, decreasing their speed meant that it was going to a bit longer to get that much nearer.

She glanced toward the Tactical station. Hawkes worked intently at his console and she wondered what he was so focused on. There was absolutely nothing for him to fire at or defend them from except for some drifting chunks of rock.

He’s probably expecting to discover at any moment that one of those chunks is a disguised enemy vessel.

Devereux turned her attention back to the data display, seeing once again the highlighted area of the debris cloud.

If I was going to hide a ship in there, she considered. That’s where I’d do it. Force them to move in. Lure them nice and close.

For a moment, she considered ordering Hawkes to place the ship on a standby alert.

It’d just be a distraction, she decided. And so far we’ve found nothing but rocks out here. She glanced over at Hawkes again. He’ll be the first to tell me if he sees anything even remotely suspicious.

Devereux allowed herself to relax and went back to studying the data displays.

#

Hawkes studied the feed from the Science station. He understood most of the data, enough to determine that there appeared to be no immediate threat from the debris within weapons range of the ship. The patch of obscure readings, toward which the Captain had now directed their course, troubled him. During all of his years of combat experience, he had witnessed a variety of techniques used to scramble sensor feedback. This was unlike any he had seen. He took some small comfort that the area affected could not mask any particularly large vessels.

We might end up being outgunned, but we’re not likely to be outnumbered.

Based on what they had discovered so far, he saw no reason yet to bring the ship’s weapons systems online. He had hoped that Captain might at least place the crew on stand-by alert status, but she had so far failed to do so. She seemed to feel comfortable with the risk.

He studied the sensor logs for some the larger fragments, examining them for signs that might indicate a masked vessel or hidden weapons platform. So far, the readings had indicated exactly what Lieutenant Gho had reported: rock fragments and conventional ores. The lack of active energy signatures of any kind told him that whatever force had created these fragments had done so a long ago.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Gho called out hesitantly. “We’re getting some new readings.”

Hawkes looked up from his station as Gho tapped out commands on her console.

“It’s not much,” she reported as the data on the third bridge display changed, “but it’s something.”

Devereux stared at the screen for several long moments before shaking her head slowly. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she admitted, turning toward Hawkes.

“Nor have I, Captain,” Hawkes reported. “I can find no matches for it in the Tactical database.”

“There’s nothing in the cosmological records either,” Gho reported. “We may have encountered a new astronomical phenomenon.”

“You just might get yourself into the record books yet, Lieutenant,” Devereux smiled at the Science officer.

Although Gho tried to mask it in her expression, Hawkes could tell that the young officer was pleased by prospect.

“It looks like a gravitational disturbance,” Elizabeth offered, looking at the data display.

“That small?” Devereux asked. “And erratic?”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose in the equivalent of a shrug. Her eyes turned toward Gho.

“It could be pockets of microgravity,” the Science officer hypothesized, “caused by heavy elements in the ore. If they’re highly radioactive as well, that would explain the trouble our sensors are having with them.”

Devereux nodded. Hawkes agreed that it was a reasonable explanation, but by no means the only one.

“Can you give me a visual?” Devereux asked.

“I think so, Captain,” Gho replied. “Let me see what I can do.”

“Center screen.”

The image of the star field displayed on the center display, now littered with jagged chunks of rock, flickered, turned gray, and then resolved into a new view. A soft gray haze now muted the definition of objects visible on the screen. It reminded Devereux of the ground fogs she would see during early morning rugby practice in the spring.

Except there’s no fog like that in space . . .

“Can you magnify that?”

Gho tapped some controls and the image shifted again. It did not help much. Some of the objects were larger now, but not much clearer.

“Any idea what’s causing that?” Devereux asked.

Gho consulted her console quickly before answering. “It’s just dust, sir.”

“What’s holding it there?” Elizabeth asked.

“Good question,” Devereux replied, nodding slowly. “It should have dispersed long ago.”

“It might be the microgravity pockets,” Gho suggested. “They might be holding it in place.”

Devereux nodded again. “That would explain why it’s localized there and there almost none at all in the outer sections of the debris field.”

The deck of the ship seemed to sway beneath her feet slightly. She glanced down and then over at the helm station, seeing Pyrafox working furiously at his console.

“Something wrong, Lieutenant?”

Pyrafox’s hands slowed. He paused a moment, both his hands poised ready over the helm controls. After a few seconds passed, he began to relax, breathing out a hoarse sigh. It reminded Devereux of the irritated growl from a long-haired Chihuahua one of her secondary school friends had owned.

“Sorry about that, Captain,” he remarked without turning. His gaze remained fixed on the navigational displays. “Just a small issue with the gravity pockets.” He reached down and tapped a control, although with less urgency, Devereux was relieved to note, than before. “I think the computer’s got most of them mapped out now.”

“Is there any danger to the ship?”

Her question was directed to anyone who had information, but it was Pyrafox who answered her.

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “They’re more like potholes in a dirt road than anything really dangerous.”

Devereux tried to map that analogy to space navigation in her mind. She did not find herself particularly comforted by the imagery that arose.

“Bring us to a stop, Lieutenant,” Devereux ordered. “I don’t want us any closer until we have a better idea of the effects.”

“Aye, Captain,” Pyrafox responded crisply. Something in his posture expressed his disappointment at no longer being allowed to meet the challenge of their course ahead. “Answering full stop.”

The images on the main bridge displays became stationery, but not before the deck rolled one more time underneath Devereux’s boots. She opened her mouth, but Pyrafox interrupted her before she could speak.

“Sorry, Captain.” He sounded genuinely apologetic. “One last pothole.”

“Better check the tires,” Devereux chuckled.

Behind her, Elizabeth snickered.

“Yes, Captain,” Pyrafox replied, making no effort to hide the laughter in his own voice.

Devereux’s expression grew serious once more. She studied the data still being flashed onto the third screen. So far, even at this closer distance, the sensors had revealed little new information.

“Commander,” she called out to Elizabeth without turning. “Have all stations continue to collect data for now. Assemble the senior staff for a briefing in one hour.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“You have the bridge, Commander,” Devereux told her. “I’ll be in the infirmary.”

#

Hope puzzled over the results of the Chief Engineer’s medical scans. Except for the unexplained increase in his Gamma band activity, all of his other readings fell well within established ranges for humans. Some of them, she noted with some surprise, had even improved since his last complete examination. There was, as far as she could determine, no biochemical cause for the change in the Chief Engineer’s brain activity. Her research on the subject so far had produced frustratingly little new information.

The Captain will want a report.

She could produce one, of course, but it would be one that would yield more questions than answers. Hope possessed a deep understanding of the human nervous system and neurological biochemistry, but she had never seen readings like these before. The most relevant analogy were the examinations conducted of suspected Psi-actives, but even those tests had yielded completely different results than what she had received from the Chief Engineer.

The main hatch opened. Hope knew, without turning, that the Captain had entered. She heard the familiar cadence of the Captain’s footsteps as she approached. That was, of course, not her only clue to the Captain’s presence.

“Hope?”

Hope turned to face the Captain. “Captain.”

The Captain glanced over at the empty diagnostic beds and then took a closer look around the infirmary.

“Where’s the Chief?”

“He is gone.”

The Captain frown deepened and she examined the infirmary again.

“You released him?”

Hope hesitated for a moment. The Captain was displeased.

“Yes.”

The Captain stared hard at Hope. Her words came out sharp and clipped.

“May I ask why?”

“The data,” Hope said. “I do not understand.”

The Captain frowned thoughtfully and then shook her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

Hope stared at the Captain for a moment longer and then gestured toward the diagnostic equipment still connected to Bed Four.

“Come.”

The Captain followed her to the diagnostic bed. Hope activated one of the displays, showing the results of the neurological scans. The Captain studied the screen carefully for several moments before turning back to Hope.

“I don’t understand what I’m seeing here.”

Hope tapped a control and one of the waveforms displayed on the chart grew brighter.

“Gamma.”

The Captain studied the image again and then shook her head again. “I’m still not seeing it,” she said, leaning back slightly. “Is it something dangerous?”

Hope stared silently.

“Is it?”

“I do not know.”

The Captain’s expression held a mixture of astonishment and concern.

“And you released him?”

“Yes,” Hope answered flatly. “Security went too.”

The Captain visibly relaxed. She studied the diagnostic display again.

“But you don’t know what this means?”

“No.”

 “Could it explain his strange behavior?”

“I do not know.”

The Captain released a long, slow breath.

“What do you know?”

Hope stared back at the Captain for a moment before answering.

“Increased Gamma band activity.”

The Captain breathed deeply.

“All right,” she said, stepping back from the display. “Let me know when you do find something. In the meantime, I’ll have Security keep an eye on him.”

“Yes.”

The Captain laughed softly. “I’m glad you approve.”

The chime from the communication console sounded. The Captain’s smile grew a little bit more.

“That’ll be Elizabeth letting you know about the briefing.” The Captain’s expression became more serious. “See what you can find out before then.”

“Yes.”

The Captain frowned, looking at the diagnostic display and then back at Hope. She appeared ready to speak, but seemed to change her mind. Turning away, she strode purposefully toward the main hatch.

Hope watched the Captain leave, feeling the familiar sense of emptiness as she departed. She turned away from the hatchway and studied the diagnostic display once more. Again, it failed to reveal the answers she needed.

Dark Renaissance – Chapter 14 & 15

Chapter 14

Hamish Montrose settled in behind his new, polished oak desk. The promotion ceremony went without any incident. He was surprised by the appearance of Donald McDonough, the executive secretary to the High Magus Harold Crist. “Congratulations on your promotion, Captain Montrose. Your rise in the ranks bodes well for your future”, McDonough informed him. Montrose smiled and replied, “I’m at the Council’s beck and call. I serve with pride.” McDonough nodded, then smiled slyly. “Indeed, your service has been impressive. The only blemish being The Yellowjakket. I’d heard that she’d beaten another sweep for her.”

Montrose gritted his teeth behind a bland smile. “She’s certainly a challenge. One could wonder that with the power of the Council, how she has managed to survive.” Montrose smiled internally as he saw McDonough’s eyes narrow. “It is a puzzle”, McDonough replied, with feigned nonchalance. “I hope that, for all our sakes, she’s brought to account soon.” With that McDonough proffered his bare hand. Montrose made certain his glove was on as they shook. He felt a tingle of an attempted spell in his fingers, and smiled knowingly at McDonough, who finished shaking and released. He turned away and disappeared into the crowd, as others moved in line to shake Montrose’s hand.

Once the crowd had thinned, he left the ceremonial to sit in his new office. He was now Captain of East London, with the power to move resources about as he saw fit. He reported directly to McDonough he found out after the man had left. The spell bothered him. It was so subtle, he couldn’t determine what it’s intent was. McDonough also hadn’t seemed to notice the failure of the spell to affect him. Perhaps he had noticed and was playing ignorance. Either way, he would bear watching. He would need to be very careful about his position.

The political waters ran very muddy and very deep at this level. Any mistake would be magnified. That worked both ways however. He knew that the Council was always in flux. With some luck, and some careful planning, a seat could be his. He reached for the mind-crystal. It was time to inform Root and Thorpe of their new duties. The game’s stakes had been increased, and he was determined to win.

Chapter 15

Yellowjakket had run hard through South London, looking for a potential target. The mages here with the authorities were the ones most likely to have any information on the raid, and where any prisoners were taken. She’d had no luck at all as she ran the streets. The notorious London Fog had come in off the river, blanketing the city in grey so thick that she had to slow down to avoid the ubiquitous double decked buses, autos, and cabs. It made movement like a huge game of blind man’s bluff. She turned hard left at a main street and finally spotted her target. The short distance of maybe forty meters visibility worked to her advantage. She was among them like a fox in a hen house before they realized she was there.

A quick look at the situation made her focus harder. This press-gang was in the middle of hauling away a teen-aged girl, who was hanging limp in her captor’s grasp. A man in work clothes lay sprawled on the step, and a woman was huddled against the door lintel, clutching a little girl to her as she tried to stab another mage who was trying to pull the child from her. She concentrated and hit the first man with an electrical cage, locking his voluntary muscles. The cage was about two meters in diameter. One mage who spun towards the speeding huntress, brushed the cage, and grunted as his body locked in place. Two out of the fight, six to go.

She fired an electrical blast at a mage who’d pulled a stone from his pocket. The stone glowed reddish and pulsed as he was hit in the chest. The blue-robed mage was lifted off his feet and propelled four meters away, striking a trash receptacle, and falling stunned to the sidewalk. One mage finished a quick spell, and a blue glow covered him. He drew a pistol, and fired a quick pair of shots at Yellowjakket, who skidded sideways, and leapt into the air. The bullets cut a path of disturbed air through the fog underneath her, to shatter some glass in the fog.

“This is unit three-oh-five”, she heard and turned to look at the speaker. He’d ducked into the house, using the door as a partial shield. She fired again, and the surge of power hammered into the man struggling with the woman. He blew backwards into the door and frame. She missed the mage trying to contact help, but did startle him enough to stop his communication. Right now that was all she wanted.

Another mage began glowing blue. The first who’d set a defensive screen began intoning a quick spell she’d heard before. He was trying to hit her with a disruption spell. She didn’t fire, knowing the blue would stop electricity, so she sped at the man rolling her shoulder forward at the last moment before impact. She caught him flush in the stomach, knocking him backwards into the front of the townhome. A quick cage locked up another wizard mid-spell. Five down three to go. The three left were going to be difficult. One was the mage in the doorway, trying to call assistance. Another still had the girl, and had retreated down the street, holding the girl between him and Yellowjakket.

The third aimed the pistol and fired again. Yellowjakket dodged, and hear a meaty thwack behind her. She glanced back, and saw a blotch on the girl’s thigh. She’d been hit by the bullet. Something clicked off inside her. The next blast took the shooter in the chest, burning away the robes, and charring his skin as he was hurtled towards the townhome, snapping ribs on impact with the brick facade.

The next shot tore the door away from the frame, blowing it to flinders and blasting the mage with splinters. He screamed and clawed at his eyes as he blasted backwards, colliding with the inner wall headfirst, and dropping to the floor, bleeding from a dozen wounds. The last man dropped the bleeding girl and vanished in the fog. Yellowjakket sent a blast his direction, and a yellow-orange ball erupted from a unseen vehicle in the fog.

She sped over to the girl, and dropped to one knee to inspect the wound. To her untrained eye it looked bad. The area was swollen already at least half-again as much as her undamaged leg. “I’m taking her to a doctor, Where’s the closest hospital?” The woman stood silent, clutching her child and staring that the downed wizards. Yellowjakket looked at the man, who was trying to sit up. “Lewisham, I think. She’s North of here and a few streets left.” His voice was rough, unsteady. He sounded drunk, or maybe a concussion. “I need to know NOW! Exactly where it is! This girl’s been shot! I need you to think!” She urged him. The desperation in her voice lending it an urgency that helped the man focus.

“Go west to the one-two-one then north, it’s about a kilometer, maybe two up. It’s on the left.” His eyes dropped to the unconscious girl then back to Yellowjakket as she shouldered the girl in a fireman’s carry. The fear in his eyes lent Yellowjakket a desperate strength and she lurched into motion, hitting a solid stride after a few shaky steps. She accelerated, turning right on one-twenty-one and speeding north.

The hospital loomed out of the fog, the lights creating a soft whitish glow in the fog. She turned and sped to the doors, her free hand yanking the door open and stepping through. “Emergency! I’ve a woman who’s been shot! I need assistance for her! The activity in the lobby stopped in shock as she shouted over the din. The distinct costume drew officers and medical staff. “Take her she’s been hit in the thigh. I’m not certain how bad”, she explained hurriedly. The police were moving between her and the door, trying to box her in.

“All righ’ gel, settle, an’ we’ll take it easy on ye”, an older man in uniform said. He was about one point eight meters tall, and stocky. His paunch lapped out over his belt, which he adjusted as he spoke at her. His left hand had an automatic pistol, and his right was up to his microphone on the shoulder. He had it tight on the mic, so everything was being radioed to his precinct house. She didn’t hesitate. A quick glance showed three halls that would be possible exits. She chose the leftmost and accelerated past the surprised officer, and disappeared into the hall before the officers could react.

Yellowjakket sped through the halls, finally coming across signs the guided her to an exit at the back of the building. She slowed to push the door open, then was out in the open once more speeding northwest away from the hosptial. She darted back south after a moment, intent on finding the mages she’d fought. It took her about eight minutes for the full round trip back to the fight. One of the mages was trying to struggle up, confronted by an ugly sounding crowd of people. She datarted past the men and women to the mage’s side. “They’re in a foul mood. I think they dislike you”, she told him with a smirk. “I’ve a mind to help them out, unless you can tell me something I want to know.”

The mage peered at her. He’d been the first one hit, and held in the electric cage. “You come in quiet, and I’ll put in a good…hrrk!” He dropped to his knees as Yellowjakket kneed him in the groin. “Try anything at all and I leave you here. You’re screwed, mate. Think you can get a spell off before they decide to beat you to death? I don’t think so. They’re too close, and you’re too slow. You’re about to die here. Unless you give me something. There was a sewer squat hit just south of here a little while ago. What do you know about it? Where’d they take the people?” Her voice was hard, brittle. She meant every word.

Dark Renaissance – Chapter 13

Yellowjakket sped into Whitechapel, and dropped her power. She’d near exhausted herself holding onto it for longer than she’d ever done before. She’d needed to rest and ready herself. She hurtled though the narrow side streets, turning and skipping through them like a mad hare. When she’d felt certain any pursuit had been shaken off, she dove into the Aldgate East Tube entrance. Yellowjakket dashed down the steps and launched herself off the landing, heading west. Following the tracks, she slowed to a stop and blasted a service door open, disappearing off the tracks, and out of the search area.

She kept up a steady run. The dark, narrow tunnels were filled with pipes and littered with debris, making high speed travel very hazardous. More than once she barely ducked a low-hanging valve or bend in a pipe. At her speed, a concussion would be a lucky result. She finally reached her destination after a slow fifteen minutes. She entered the back end of the hidden tunnel, and immediately the bitter smell of marijuana assaulted her. The thickness and intensity caused her to gag involuntarily.

She recovered, and crouched, listening. Up ahead a number of voices carried to her. She started to stalk forward slowly. Yellowjakket wanted to charge in, but it was prudent to get a look first. These might be metas, and if so, it would be potentially very dangerous to get in a fight. The last thing anyone needed was the interest of the Patrols. The smell made her light-headed. She shook her head to clear it, and fell on her side, partly dazed by the potency of the smoke. Her vision swam, rippling like a heat mirage above hot asphalt.

The talking stopped when she fell. Fortunately, no one came to check out the noise. She slowly pushed upright and retraced her steps, finally getting out of the tunnel into clean air. The slim woman took deep gulps of air trying to clear her head. She couldn’t figure out why the smoke in the tunnel was so potent. She’d been around marijuana and other drugs growing up. In the public schools it was impossible to get away from. Kids wanted the latest, and greatest drugs. Their way of rebelling against family authority, or something to sell and make some quick cash.

After ten minutes, her mind cleared. Balance and a sense of wholeness returned. She started down the tunnel, and towards the checkpoint. The guards would want to know about the tunnel and the people nearby. New smells met her as she moved closer. Smoke from burned plastic hung in the air, along with a charcoal smell. She started to trot, suddenly fearful. There was no noise. She moved past the first home. The curtains over the small man-made caves had been burned away. She didn’t smell any petrol or other liquid flammables. The regularity of the burn marks made her think mages. Those were the only ones who might trouble themselves to attack a place underground like this.

The checkpoint was devastated. The metal pipe that served as a watch point had been melted so thoroughly that the sewer tube had collapsed. Debris and loose dirt half-filled the main tunnel. She kept walking, occasionally seeing a location where someone she knew had stayed. Where there had been a small, bustling community, there was now only the sound of dripping water and the quiet squeal of vermin that scurried through the debris of the lives that were once here.

She held her sorrow tight inside. This was not the time to grieve. Right now was time to look, search the detritus for any possible clues about the attacker, and the fate of the people. She sifted slowly through the wreckage, hunting for anything that might tell her where and who to focus her efforts on. A spot of color drew her attention. She moved a piece of charred wood, revealing a strip of blue-grey cloth with a distinct bit of red piping on it. A mage’s robe. That confirmed who the attackers were. It also meant that the people here fought back rather than ran. A piece of robe doesn’t just fall off.

So, with the mages being the culprits, she needed to find a group to question. That could get problematic. The other problem was, why had this place been attacked? It was small, out of the way. Nothing was here that would draw a full-on raid to her knowledge. She needed more information, which went back to finding someone to ‘talk’ to.