Chapel Orahamm's Blog, page 18

Subject 15: Ch 23

“Is this what you do in the evenings when I leave you here?” Fane leaned against Prince Orlov’s doorframe to watch the man hacking and slashing at the air in his Nurvo Gear.

“You were the one who asked way back when what I enjoyed doing. This lets me have friends without all the social obligations that may or may not be attached to my position as a member of the royal family. You remember Marjorta?” Ishan spun in the room and raised a hand. “May thunder be called down through the plains of Wyrm and Dragon.”

“Marjorta, yes. Nice person. That a spell?” Fane left his post at the wall to check the thermostat screen. “Why’s it so hot in here? You need to get your AC looked at.”

“Marmar was a person I met in college in one of my clubs. Got her business degree before spoofing off somewhere secretive, said she started a gym. We had a tabletop group back in the day.” His shoulders sank as he looked up. “I miss those days. Just the stupid shit we’d come up with. Now, we play on here as a way to get back together, though we’ve all split into our own guilds. I’m in my mid-thirties. All my friends have grown up, bought houses, gotten married, have pets or adopted kids or even had them. Yet they never left me. The one that’s been trapped by his family and their plans for him. We’ve made time for each other. Even if it’s a couple times a year, we’ve all logged on and been able to reconnect.

“You gonna be alright being on tonight rather than Ajay?”

Fane shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter much to me. What else would I be doing? Meditating like I do every evening?”

“You meditate?’ Ishan mimed swinging a staff.

“Yep. Been doing that for years. Not sure it’s doing much, but it’s part of a pattern now.” Fane slipped into the chair he’d sat in the night before.

“Huh. Grandpa does that. Say’s I’d find it useful for my anxiety. Feel like explaining how to one of these days?” Ishan ducked into a crouch, hands going to cover his head. “You could have well killed me, you cow-brained body builder!”

“Do I want to know what you’re fighting?” Fane leaned onto his arm, amused with the man crab walking across the tile.

“Big ass minotaur with an obnoxious number of life bars.” He dove towards Fane. “And not labeled a raid boss! I call B.S.”

“You gonna make it?”

“No, get your butt in here. You’re my bodyguard, right? Guard me!” Ishan fell back, raising his hand to an invisible enemy. “Shield!”

“I can’t do that. I need to have my wits about me in case something happens out here,” the bodyguard sighed.

“Turn on the security camera and toggle it to your Nurvo system. It’ll let you keep a set of field cameras up.” Ishan rolled. “Crap. This guy just isn’t going down.

“There’s a thing, ah! There’s a thing you can do. Your security pass number. When you get the Nurvo Gear on, go into settings. There’s a menu option you can get into, and your number will let you tap into the lighthouses in this room and use them as security cameras. You can, oh crap! I’m gonna die! Haha! Take that sucker! The lighthouses capture the room. If an alarm pings on the system, you can step out of the game and not even have to take the helmet off; oh for the love of earth’s volcanoes die already! You can step into a virtual version of this room to see if anything’s wrong. Ajay and I do this all the time.” Ishan breathed heavily as he got off the floor.

“Saying it’s safe then for me to play in there with you as the primary bodyguard?”

“Yep. I’ll take responsibility if something happens.” Ishan smiled. “Fireball! Haha! Critical hit. Oh, come on, that was epic. Five points? Get in here, Anson. This thing ain’t going down unless I get help.”

Fane rubbed at his arm, his stomach twisting at the idea of not being visually cognizant of the world when he was on guard duty. Resigning himself, he pulled one of the extra Nurvo gear sets from the cabinet and logged in. Half a minute of searching through the settings produced the menu option he needed to commander the lighthouses and generate a virtual image of the living room with both Ishan and him in it. “That is trippy.”

“Got it running? Good. Now get in here. Go into the friends’ call window, and it’ll link to me. I’ll send a teleport gem through it that’ll bring you to me.” Ishan crept away to the other end of the living room in Fane’s generated view.

Pressing the log-in button for the video game, Fane pulled at his nerve gloves, sinching the pins tighter. Carmadoon unfolded around him in its deeply saturated forest intro screen. A square in the left of his visual pulsated an angry red. Flicking a glove, the square unfolded into the friends’ call window list. One of the rectangles blinked orange. Popping it open, a teleport stone clinked into his inventory. “Alright, I have the gem, Bostock. What do I do with it to activate it?”

“It’s a voice command. Say ‘portal to who knows where.’ It’ll send you to me – the ‘who’ in the spell.” Ishan’s mic connected up to Fane’s gear, creating a minor echo as the AI adjusted volumes in the room.

Fane did as he was told and found himself in a nauseating spiral of sparkles that dropped him in front an angry Holstein-spotted minotaur. Bostock, the high elf, green outline showing his hiding spot behind a bush, sighed with relief.

“Spells or weapons with this thing?” Fane ducked to activate sneak and scrambled over to Ishan’s hiding place.

“Your level? I’m hoping for a one-hit kill.” Ishan covered his head as a scythe lopped off the top of the bush they were hiding behind, the green leaves dissolving in a bunch of verdent pixels.

Fane stood up and walked out of the bush toward the minotaur. “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He threw a straight right into the minotaur’s sternum. Eight life bars popped up on Fane’s screen. The topmost blinked, half the bar disappearing. He smiled. “Been a while since I’ve had a sparring partner that didn’t ask me to pull my punches.” Fane spun, landing a left heel into the beast’s snout. Something in the booties flicked on, whirring to generate friction to provide a feeling of connecting with the creature.

Fane landed smoothly through the movement. Two bars dropped off, and the minotaur’s eyes went red. “This Nurvo gear legit let me do that!”

“Do what?” Ishan asked from behind his bush, peeking out to find Fane bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I kicked that thing and didn’t lose my balance. I figured I would because what I’m seeing and what’s actually out there aren’t the same thing. Thought it’d be like kicking a ghost, and I’d fall over.” He put up a defence as the creature swung a club, connecting with his arms. Fire and a bruised feeling splashed up his skin. “Ow?”

“Yeah, they’ve got some kind of jet or something in the booties to help with that. Lets the karate kids do some really cool stunts.” Ishan stood from his hiding place. “Fireball!” A giant purple and black flaming ball barreled past Fane’s head and hit the creature, driving it back, half of its face slophing.

A creeping sensation trailed up Fane’s back as the creature’s drool splashed across his screen. Tentacles and nightmares juxtaposed over his sight. Bile rose. He grasped for his back sheath and pulled his knife. His skin coated in a cold sweat. Charging, he buried the blade into the creature’s throat and shoved up, slicing open the face and brain. Blood drenching him from head to toe. He dropped to his knees and pulled the helmet above his eyes.

“Woah! Anson, you got him!” Ishan cheered. “Anson? You alright?”

Fane put a hand to his mouth, dragging in the scent of warm electronics and polyester. “Yep. Give me a second. I didn’t remember the other creatures going bloody on me.”

“Don’t do blood?” Ishan set a gentle hand on his back and rubbed.

“Not really well, no.” Fane swallowed back the sting of bile in his throat. He refused to throw up.

“Sorry. I had the graphics up, and if you jump into a friend’s line, it goes with their setting. I’ll dial it down.” Ishan let up on rubbing Fane’s back and tapped on a set of menus.

“Tell me that thing is down.” Fane put his head between his knees and waited for the wiggle of maggots and smell of rotting meat to stop a misplaced flashback.

“Yep. It’s evaporated. Loot’s laying all over. I’ll chuck stuff at you. It’ll load into your inventory if I do that. Just take your time.” Ishan reassured. “This why you’re a vegetarian?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Reason I wasn’t very keen on ever leaving base. I don’t know how I’ll do with a real event. Might be good at whooping a person’s butt, but blood and the texture of meat gives me flashbacks to things I don’t remember, and it makes me puke.” The AC kicked on overhead, and Fane dragged in the sweet coolness of artificial chill. “Seen people get hurt on base and did okay with those. Somehow I can displace myself and work on an emergency, but once it’s over and I can come back to my body, I don’t know if that makes sense, anyways, yeah, I tend to end up with this weirdness.”

“Man, that’s gotta suck. Thanks for coming in on that. Sorry about the gore. Here, come back in, the thing’s gone. We can go do something better.” Ishan encouraged.

Fane’s cold sweat stopped as he filled his lungs all the way to the bottom finally. He tugged on his helmet to find the little spot in the forest clear of all gore. The intense battle music he had not noticed before had turned back to the gentle acoustics of the main game theme. “Tell me how I’m going to handle a raid boss with this problem.”

“Talk to the leader on the raid. Most players are pretty cool if you say you don’t want the gore. If the raid leader won’t, then don’t join their party. No one needs to put up with that. Sorry again.” Ishan chucked an item at Fane. His inventory menu pinged, notification numbers hovering over it. He opened it to find health and xp pots. A minotaur’s horn spun in a cube.

“I take it this thing is craftable?” Fane pointed at the horn.

“If it isn’t a weapon or armour, most stuff creatures drop are craftable. The weapons and armour can be melded with other items to raise stats. Minotaur horns are uncommon drops, not exactly rare, but it can take killing ten or twelve of them to get one. Two dropped, so I gave you one and his breastplate. Equip that.” Ishan clicked through his menus and equipped a ringlet.

“What did you get?” Fane pressed on the breastplate icon and read through the description.

“Heir of the Milkman. It increases my luck at finding creatures that can speak with me.” Ishan smiled proudly.

Fane chose the breastplate and checked his armour class adjustment. “For giving me a lovely flashback of horrors, it at least made for a nice boost on my numbers.”

“Nice. Looks good on you. Here, come on. I’ll take you to a safe zone.” Ishan tossed him a teleport stone. “It’s got a preset destination. Throw it on the ground, and it’ll shatter.”

Fane fell through the teleport sparkles and joined Ishan in a market town by a seaside. The backdrop sunset cast glittering golds and pinks across the Romanesque-themed town. “Never made it out to the Greco-Italis area. Is this accurate?”

Ishan led him up through the streets. “Not of any one place that I’ve found, but the architecture is pretty on point for some of the coastal areas.”

They continued up flights of stairs and past players and NPCs alike. A breeze ruffled Fane’s hair through the nerve gear. He turned to glance down the stairs they had emerged from, but what he found left him speechless. A café sprawled across a cobblestone culdesac that overlooked a harbour filled with sailing and airships. Seagulls floated in and out of the clouds above.

“Nurvo Gear is one of those really high-end models. It connects up to the nerve at the back of your head that interacts with your brain signals like the rest of the nerve gears, right? Well, it has a couple extra sensors or something. It’s good enough to translate taste.” Ishan waved Fane to the café.

“How’s it do with registering hunger?” Fane followed him to a table and pair of chairs near the wall between the culdesac and the cliff.

“You’ll still be hungry, sadly. But the coders did a pretty good job at rendering flavours. Wanna try something?”

“Sure, but how do I sit down in one of these?” Fane pointed at the chair.

“Oh, right. Put your finger on the chair and pull up your helmet for a second. Find the couch or a different chair and walk over and sit down on it. It’ll jump the image so you can sit in the chair in-game,” Ishan reassured.

Quiche and tea ordered, the two relaxed into their chairs – the couch out in the real world – and watched the rippling of the ocean below them. Fane took his cup from the NPC woman when their food arrived and sipped at it, finding the flavour of chamomile almost convincing. “Weird.”

“It’s not quite perfect, but it’s a fun side bonus to this game.” Ishan’s elf ears wiggled forward, then dropped down in satisfaction with his cup of coffee.

“How do you join a raid?” Fane broke their calm.

“Oh, you show up to the guild hall that has the raid banner flying and see if you can party with them. I had plans of raising a raid banner, but it sounds like Marmar will raise it when we give the signal. You still thinking of doing it?” Ishan perked up, his focus shifting from the ocean to Fane’s face. Brilliant green eyes picked up the sparkle of the sea.

“Your eyes aren’t the same?” Fane frowned.

“Bought an upgrade. I hate my brown eyes. Everyone has them, and they don’t really feel unique. Great-grandpa’s were green.” Ishan laughed.

I like them. Fane swallowed wrong at that thought, bolting upright to cough.

“You alright?” Ishan grabbed for the teacup. “Oh, crap, it’s not real. You breathing?”

“Yeah. Yep. Fine. Swallowed wrong.” Fane waved the man off. Lungs clear and able to breathe again, they returned to their calmness.

“This has been nice.” Ishan sipped at his in-game coffee once more. “Oh, right, thoughts on the raid?”

“When’s it going to be?” Fane glared at his tea, his stomach growling.

“Next Saturday. I coordinated with Marmar that way we’d both have the evening off. Ajay’s on roster to do overnight that evening.” Ishan rose from the table when his cup vanished.

“Well, let’s go get me registered then, I guess?” Fane followed Ishan down the stairs from the café.

Chapel Orahamm (C) 2022-2023. All Rights Reserved.

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Subject 15: Ch 22

“You want me to believe this djinn newb has never played in a gear before? At that level?” A built half-orc woman looked the party up and down.

“He works out on the regular. You run a gym, Marjorta. You know how this goes for Black Parrot patrons.” Ishan pulled a tankard of ail out of his inventory and set it in front of the woman.

“You’ve already maxed my friendship meter, Bostock. Fine. Let’s see what RedKing can do.” The woman slipped the tankard into her inventory and led Fane and the rest of the party out of the Black Parrot’s guild hall.

“Know how a nerve gear works?” Marjorta walked Fane into a forest a short distance outside of the town.

“Connected up to my nerve endings. It’s kinda in the name.” Fane studied his surroundings in an effort to orient to monsters he knew should start showing up with this kind of environment.

“Pretty much. So, if you work out, you can get some serious levels going. But if you’re a bodybuilder, you ain’t gonna have the same speed stat as a runner. You’ll max your strength on that. Some people can come in having high levels and be quadriplegic. Wanna know what they tend to class in?”

Fane nodded.

“Sorcery and necromancy. Your intelligence can also reflect in your levels. Now, you’re a bard class Lamp Sleeper. Means most of your distribution is spread across simple weapons, light armour, charisma, acrobatics, dex, and knowledge. What do you do, dance? You look built for it.”

“No, never danced. Not that I know of unless you count going to some bars. That’s not like knowing waltz or anything like that.” Fane shook his head.

“Well, the gear chose bard for a reason. Let’s find out why.” Marjorta pointed to the woods to their left. Out burst a series of four blue, firey wolves several times their size.

“Devil Lord Dogs! Oh crap, I’m out.” Shelly’s avatar vanished.

“Same, I’ll watch on an obs-screen. Marmar, tell me when to come back in.” Ishan ditched.

“Larimda, get your butt out of here. You might be close to my level, but remember, those are exponential levels. You will eat dirt in half a second.” Marjorta directed Ajay out and his character vanished with a frowning emoji left floating in the field.

“Wait, how am I supposed to draw a weapon again?” Fane panicked.

Ishan’s hand in the real world touched Fane’s lower back where he regularly kept his sheath. “Reach to your back. The glove will generate the weight.”

“Right. ‘K.” Fane did as he was told and mimicked how he would regularly draw a back blade. The weight generated and the disparity between reality and the game world shattered.

“I have range in this thing right?” he checked once the blade was in his hand.

“You do now. Larimda and I are on the outside of the room near the kitchen. Couch is behind you by a good twenty feet, so you’ve got room to work.” Ishan reassured him. “We’ve got your obs-screen pulled up on the projector, so we can see what you see on the wall.”

“Neat. Keep me from breaking a window.” Fane instructed and slipped his perception into the world of Carmadoon in full. Three quick jabs, a duck and sweep, a right hook and a knee into the jaw had three of the four Devil Lord Dogs evaporating into a glittering mist while Marjorta struggled with the last one.

“Newb. You’re a damn bard. Where’s the moral support?” The woman grouched.

“Go team go, ra ra ra!” He stepped in and snapped the wolf’s neck before it could tear off Marjorta’s arm. “That enough moral for you?”

“Kid. You know how to dance. That’s why the nerve gear chose bard.”

“I will promise up and down I don’t know how to dance. Taken some martial arts. I practice a bit of gymnastics as a form of stretching and I work out regularly. That’s all.” Fane tried to brush it off. A loud crash from behind had him spinning, crouching low. An army of goblins spilt through the trees.

“You’d be a monk if the nerve gear believed martial arts for a hot minute, punk.” Marjorta pulled a pair of long blades from her back to ready for the incoming hoard.

A spell came to mind that had sounded interesting. “Fall.” Fane whispered. Goblins evaporated in a fifteen-foot radius around him.

“Hey, Ajay, go turn the AC down. It got cold.” Ishan said outside of Fane’s range. “Woah, what’d he do?”

“Words of Power?” Ajay guessed. “Here, a jacket. Thermostat says it’s set to your preferred temp, but it’s reading twenty points under it. Don’t know what happened. Not like we get cold spells here. How’s he doing?”

Fane slipped forward through the evaporating goblin hoard toward a bone-crowned goblin king. “You two are weird when I’m in here. It feels kinda like I’ve got ghosts following me around. Anyways, how do I get the crown from this guy? It’s cool.”

“Some monsters drop stuff like that. Some don’t. You’ll just have to see.” Shelly chimed in.

“Drops? Oh, are those the things that keep making my inventory beep in my ear every time I walk through these creatures?” Fane crouched, activating sneak.

“Yeah. You’ve probably got some pretty cool stuff in there with all those high-level mobs you’re going through. You can sell off a bunch of it, or craft it and sell that stuff to buy some really epic things at the markets.” Ishan supplied.

“I’ll have you show me how to, oh, I have to be quiet here. It says he can detect me,” Fane whispered, crouching further.

Ishan and Ajay quieted, letting him concentrate. The movement coming out of the crouch caught them off guard. Using his hand on the floor he twisted, squarely planting a foot into the creature’s jaw. Pushing up, he vaulted into the air over the creature’s head and wrapped a rope across its throat. The goblin king broke into a shower of gold, dropping its crown. “Haha! My crown.” Fane proclaimed, holding the ornate bone crown up in victory.

“What’s it called?” Ishan asked.

“How do you check. Oh, here’s an arrow. Uh, Zero Blade Bone Crown of the Mystic King? That’s a mouth full, who the hell let development come up with these? It says it has a higher sneak skill to it, cloak of darkness, level 100?” Fane squatted onto his heels to activate hide and keep more creatures from chasing him for a minute.

“Put that thing on RK. That’ll seriously help.” Ishan demanded. “Hey, Marjorta, can we come back in?”

The half-orc woman’s body floated off in the end of the glade, flickering.

“Oops. Here, RK, take out your potion. Your other hand. Go pour it over Marjorta, and that should reconnect her mic and cure her avatar.” Ajay instructed.

“Gotcha.” Fane jumped frames and did as he was told, healing Marjorta.

“Alright, RedKing,” Marjorta dusted herself off when she regained character consciousness, “you’re in. You’ll manage without me there, clearly. Bostock, why’d you bring him in again?”

“I wanted see him take down the Three Hills Gold Dragon.” Ishan explained when his avatar popped back into the forest side of the glade.

“You’re wanting to open up the Wailing Winds section of the map?” Marjorta exclaimed.

“I think he can do it.” Ishan pressed.

“I mean, I’m not going to doubt he probably can, but he still can’t open his inventory successfully every time. You want to put him up against a raid boss, and he can’t pull a potion yet?”

“Alright, I see what you mean.” Ishan conceded.

“Get him a few more hours and maybe a couple dungeons before we do a raid. We’ll have a standing invite waiting for him, and we’ll get a raid back up. Sound good for you?”

“Yeah, I think we can make that happen. The alarm went off for midnight here.” Ajay shook Marjorta’s hand and logged out.

“Thank you for your help.” Fane shook her hand and waited for Ishan to explain how to log out to the apartment.

“RedKingsRightHand, you’re kinda epic in there,” Ishan smirked, a chuckle lifting the mood finally.

“That was fun. Thank you.”

“Yeah. I had fun. Even if I couldn’t show you my wicked wizarding spells, I’d say that was great fun.” Ishan pulled off his gloves and collapsed on the couch.

“As it is, Mr Orlov, and it was fun, so don’t get me wrong, but I can’t keep my eyes open. Just the mention of that alarm’s already got a list of to-dos a mile long going through my head and I need to get up in four hours to conduct make-up drills for the guys who missed today’s physical. Ajay’s here already, so I’m going to wish you a good night and head back for my room.” Fane set away the helmet, gloves, and booties into their home in the cabinet.

“Good night!” Ishan and Ajay waved.

Fane headed back to his room, a smile splashed across his face. I like that thing. A bit disorienting at first, but I can see why the guys on base kept telling me to try it.

Chapel Orahamm (C) 2022-2023. All Rights Reserved.

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Polaris Skies: Ch 16

Hackles rose on the back of Nat’s neck at every blurred shadow. The wounds in his shoulders ached and throbbed, but the wolf inside supported him through the pain. The city left the group unsettled in the slow onset of twilight. The chill nipped at their heels. The sun was setting in the distance, and they were still in the midst of the town. They kept their eyes open for shelter.

The creature glanced at the small woman cradled in Yeller’s arms. Her breathing had evened out. He glanced to Deck, whose wolf limped strangely. He’d ask the man about that later. For now, an empty doorway into a tiny suburban bungalow looked promising. He motioned the wolves over to it.

At the door, Yeller handed Nat Hana. He tried to jiggle the knob, but it protested, locked tight. He tapped on the rotting wood and listened for motion from within. It was resoundingly empty. “Well, if it’s vacant, then no one’ll mind.” He pressed the door until there was a crunch of wood on the jam breaking. The door swung inwardly to reveal a shabby 1970’s green wallpaper and gold shag-carpeted living room. The furniture was rotting, and moths fluttered about under the disturbance.

“Think it’s a museum?” Sun Hee peeked in around the doorframe.

“People can be super weird. Probably a collector.” Benj stepped over the threshold and walked over to an old record player on top of a tube tv.

“Says the guy who literally wore shirts based on two hundred-year-old patterns, for funzies.” Sun Hee ran a finger along the window sill, knocking off a thick layer of dust.

“You liked the hoodies,” Benj countered.

“I thought your shirts always looked nice.” A blush ran across Zola’s cheeks up to her ears.

“That’s because you look good in boyfriend shirts, Zoe.” Sun Hee ribbed her with an elbow.

“If he’d ever let me have one.” Zola clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. Benj stalled, fingers deep in the back of a Kit-Cat Klock.

“I’m…just gonna circle the house and let you three figure that one out.” Deck walked through the front living room, past a doorframe and disappeared, leaving the group to stare at each other in silence.

“At least it’s warmer and maybe safer than out there. God, I can’t wait for spring to come again.” Deck’s voice echoed down a hallway.

“Nat, sit. You’re swaying.” Yeller nudged the man toward the one armchair in the room.

The white-haired man nodded quietly and settled in, Hana curled in his arms. “Thanks.”

Yeller leaned over, testing the woman’s forehead with his hand. “Not hot. Not cold. You doing okay holding her like that? Your shoulders doing okay?”

“Been better. Been hella worse. My fingers are prickly, but the creature’s growling about me putting her down.” Nat kept his voice to Yeller and himself.

“Tell me if you need me to take her so you can rest. Even that beast has to understand those wounds aren’t going to heal at this rate.” Yeller squatted down next to the armchair and checked Hana’s pupillary reaction.

Sun Hee and Zola found clothes stuffed into a back closet. Moth holes permeated some of the softer sweaters, but everyone was able to outfit themselves in varying decades of wearables, save for the fact Yeller’s newly acquired pants rode high on his ankles. Benj came out of it dressed in a full three-piece tailed suit. Deck managed a pair of worn jeans and an angel-winged brown button-up. The girls slipped into long jersey dresses and cashmere shawls.

Yeller crashed on the sofa, and the couch subsequently crashed to the floor. “Oops.” He sprawled across the cushions.

“You auf!” Zola jumped onto the sofa, bouncing on what remained of the springs.

Sun Hee and Benj followed her lead, and presently a dog-pile accumulated on the small loveseat. Deck, Nat and Hana were the only ones not to join in. The creature had eased into a small, overstuffed armchair with Hana resting easily in his arms. Her wings covered his legs, a warm blanket of feathers.

The group, over the next few hours, found themselves napping on and off. The house was cold, and a woodstove promised a solution if they could find the will to move, but there weren’t any drafts. It was easy to be lulled into a sense of peaceful safety.

Wolves, a pack of fifteen, trudged through soft tundra. They had their own standings in their pack. An alpha male and female, though they did not act as ordinary wolves in that sense. There were mates within the pack. It was the only way they had been able to keep their numbers constant. In this cold, forbidding place, it had been the only way. A commander, wise in his leadership, headstrong and stubborn in his direction. The alpha female was shy and quiet. The second in command, as uncompromising as the commander, had a mate. They were expecting their third litter. There was the heavy hitter and his little firecracker of a mate. The intelligent, cunning pair that could devise and while away their wits better than any other, almost to the point of wisdom beyond man. There were more of them, but it was these few that Nat focused on. Sven led him around and around these images. He wouldn’t explain; he refused to expand the images; he kept the man pinned to the dream with a definitive fierceness.

The evening slipped bloody shadows through shabby curtains. The sun set behind the skeletal towers of the town, and the little bungalow in their wake dropped in temperature. Hana broke out into a cold sweat, and Deck was sick to his stomach. The woman squirmed in her sleep, waking Nat up from another foreboding dream. She had a grip on his shoulder that could have crushed normal bone. A drop of blood rolled from her lower lip. She had bitten her tongue in her sleep.

“Benj! Benj?” Nat yelled, waking the coal-black dog from a lolling sleep. The woman spasmed and dropped to the floor, almost on top of Yeller.

“Easy. Easy. Give her room, move the coffee table out of the way. Keep her from banging into anything, and the seizure should pass!” Benj yelped as he morphed and tugged on his pants.

Zola and Yeller scrambled for the table, and Nat pulled the armchair out of the way. Sun Hee ran for the kitchen to find cleaning supplies and a large mixing bowl for Deck to keep vomit off the carpet.

“Benj!” the creature growled when the seizure refused to let up.

“I’m thinking, mutt! Just hold on for a second,” Benj bit back. He looked at Deck, who was curled in on himself, sweat coating his body. The group’s leader had turned human about the same time that the spasms had taken Hana’s body. Benj turned to glower at Nat to find his eyes a vacant cast in hard shadowed relief.

Nat wet his bottom lip as his eyes came back into focus. “Deck says everything’s gonna be fine, a few minutes more.”

“Deck didn’t say a damn thing!” Benj yelled over the next spasmodic wave.

Nat tapped on the star on the side of his head. “Yeah, he did.” He brushed sweaty tendrils of hair from Hana’s face.

It took ten minutes before the waves eased and Deck regained consciousness. Hana stared blankly at the ceiling as she sucked down, gulping breath after breath.

“Full bloody grand mal.” Nat took a towel from Sun Hee and wiped Hana’s face off.

Crack! Nat fell back from Hana, landing hard against the armchair. The sound of bone crunching against bone was deafening. Yeller tackled Deck as he towered over Nat, who held his cheek in confusion. “Get off him, Alex. Get off.”

“Nat, I gave you specific orders not to fucking touch her! Don’t do it again! Besides her possibly dying, I don’t know if I’ll die the next time she does that. Got it? She’s off-limits, don’t lay a fuckin’ hand on her. She’s under my protection!” bellowed Deck through Yeller’s headlock. He heaved, puffing, coughing. He crumpled to his knees, his hands spread on the green shag carpet. Yeller let go when Sun Hee tugged at his arm.

Deck balled up his fists. “God, that wasn’t even half of her pain level. Just a touch. Honest to the gods, I thought I was going to die in this miserable shack.” Tears streamed from his eyes.

The creature pulled himself up and back into the armchair, shocked. His cheek throbbed and burned, starting to swell. Nat grappled with the shocked wolf and threw him back to take over.

His defences went up. “I never touched her! It must have been the power surge from the building. She passed out after that. Don’t go blaming me for it!” Nat wiped at blood welling at the split on his cheekbone. His teeth hurt. He didn’t recall anything that could have made her do what she did. An idea hit him harder than Deck’s punch.

“Benj, is this…?” he began.

“A latent reaction that takes time to hibernate, ‘a ticking time bomb’, so to speak?” Benj grumbled. “We were able to make it for a few days before the first time she passed out, at the hot springs. She touched your blood when she helped you get over the fence.”

“You fucking told her too, Alexander, you bastard. Didn’t need to go punching me!” Nat spat. The creature pounced back, pinning Nat to take over again.

“This is all assumptions at the moment, Nat. I don’t know what is going on here, ‘k?” Benj folded himself down into Zola’s outstretched arms.

“Why are we protecting her anyway?” Sun Hee asked. The room went silent at her quiet whimper. “I mean, has she contributed to us in any real way, really? Well, I guess what I’m saying is that her parents are dead, so the research isn’t there anymore. Her brother’s an axe murderer wanting to rip our guts out. Yeah, she showed us power marks, but they aren’t that great. She does this,” she waved her hand at the mute girl lying sprawled on the floor, “every time she comes in contact with Nat. She’s a liability.”

The creature’s jaw dropped. He felt blindsided. He could comprehend what she was saying, but by every nerve, he wanted to deny it.

“I second the motion,” Yeller mumbled quietly.

Sven bit back, silencing Nat before he could question what was happening.

“You’ve been acting like a moron ever since you laid eyes on her Nat, and she’s poison to you and this group. Think about your friends for a second, bro. You don’t even know if she likes you. We’ve only met her. Maybe a month at the most. And half of that time was spent at Michael’s insane asylum for the feathered beasts of the world. For all we know, she could be a mole, someone to lead him to us.” Deck begged.

“Shut up,” the creature hissed. Deck recoiled at the rebuke. Nat’s mind melted behind the wolf. He could strangle the mutt for putting him in this position. He watched the gears spin in the wolf’s mind and fed into the debts. They made good points, and their judgement could see beyond the creature’s delusions, but still. The animal appealed to Deck, “You said she’s under your protection, right, Deck? Help me out here….”

Deck touched his mind, finding roiling chaos. A deep, Eastern Block accent in Nat’s head that wasn’t his. He had heard touches and tones of it slip from Nat’s lips but hadn’t paid enough attention.

I’m not letting you give up, Nat. I can’t have Sylvi slip through our fingers. Please, don’t take my mate away. The voice begged.

Deck quieted, and stopped his thoughts so as not to be detected.

Just shut up Sven; you’re not helping matters. You’ve taken over too many times in the last two weeks. I’m bleeding out like a gutted pig, and this woman you’re mooning over is dying, you fucking bastard. The group’s right. I haven’t been able to think at all since she came. Where are the rest of your clan when they should be here? You were showing me your family, weren’t you? Those other fifteen. The ones I saw in the mirror in Oregonia. Nat accused.

The wolf’s recoil and deep seething rage flowed over Deck’s consciousness. He turned into himself and reached for his wolf, searching for answers.

Did you really not realise that I was not you? He told you about Sven. You just had to accept the possibility to finally see me, didn’t you? Came back a tenor voice, the voice of his wolf.

You! Who? What are you? You’re the one that comes out at night when I go to sleep. But, I’m still aware of myself when I’m in that form. I still have a will, a conscious thought as to what I am doing. Deck tried to reason with the voice.

Tsk, tsk. I am and am not a part of you. I am the Alpha of this genetic sequence. Each of you has obtained one section of a recombinant genetic code. I concede the fact that I am not necessarily another being altogether anymore, a memory chain at most.

Nat has Sven, my second in command and most trusted comrade. Yeller has Cashia, a heavy hitter in a fight, loyal, faithful, quiet, slow to anger.

Sun Hee has my mate, Sibor. Caught, we were spliced into a gene sequence in a commi’ lab. The wolf growled in the pit of Deck’s stomach. It was so strange, suddenly seeing the secondaries, the wolves, almost like phantoms standing guard at the side of every one of his friends. He glanced to Benj and Zola. Benj, he got my son, Heinrich – excruciatingly smart for his age and a bit of a rebel when it comes to directions. Zola was lucky in getting Heinrich’s mate – Anastasia. I’m amazed that the sequence split so evenly.

Currently, what you are looking at is Sven’s mate trying to combine with an avian genetic code. Sven, well, he’s secretive about things close to him, even when it comes to his host. Sylvi was taken away from him close to her term. She was due with a litter when we were all captured. At the moment, what I’m sensing from Sven through your connection to Nat is…pain. He’s…afraid. The wolf seemed to find this a rather curious occurrence. Deck collapsed on the broken sofa, too stunned to comprehend much more. Yeller glared at him and shifted away.

You’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me. Deck replied numbly. And what exactly am I supposed to call you?

My name is Dietrich. My clan and I originated in the deep Siberian tundra land. We are old and pure of breed. We were the last of our kind to hold the key that led to the splitting of all canine breeds.

You are still scared of me, of what has happened. I will leave you for now to process everything. Call for me if you have need. Just like that, the wolf ceased its endless pacing and virtually disappeared.

Deck laid his head in his hand and thought for a while, observing the tears in Hana’s onyx eyes.

He glanced over at Sun Hee, and then an idea struck him. A flash of genius. “Sibor, how long will you hide from all of us?” Deck tested Sun Hee. His girlfriend looked at him bewildered for a second before her form shifted into the wolf. It sat before him, expectantly. He reached out cautiously and rubbed behind her ear. Deck bent his head to touch hers. “Dietrich says hello.” Zola’s wolf pushed for attention. Anastasia’s tail wagged a smidge in acknowledgement. “You realise that Heinrich picked Sun Hee’s brother, right?” Deck laughed.

Then Benj looked up. “Heinrich?”

“Dad says hello,” Deck smiled. The coal grey wolf howled in joy, stealing Benj’s morph.

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Polaris Skies: Ch 15

The sun glared down, unfriendly and burning. An unusual day. Chill air, however, crept across the land like an infestation of spiders. Rust coloured leaves whisked across the ground, frost nodules glimmering on the rims. The skeletal trees snipped and snapped against each other. The thick of the forest waned into pasture land as they pressed their advance through the wilds. The pastures were as dry and forlorn as the woods were. The first house they stumbled upon sat as shattered ruins. A plethora of green weeds twined through its splintered rafters.

The first real growth they had seen for miles. White flowers dotted across the plants. “Disturbing, but pretty,” Zola crooned as she went to touch one of the flowers.

Benj pulled her away quickly. “Spiderwort. Guys, we need to get out of this area fast!”

Yeller stared at him in confusion. Nat slumped against the blond, weary and dazed. Benj pushed his hair back in frustration. “This isn’t the time to be standing around here talking science.”

“What is it?” Zola asked him, concerned at his outburst.

“Indicator of radiation.” He pulled his shift, letting his wolf run.

A shocked silence fell on the group as they comprehended his meaning. “Shit!” Deck allowed the wolf forward to shift. Hana took to the sky, sending feathers across the grey heavens. The group raced down the dirt road until their lungs gave out.

A bombed-out town greeted them with a rakish grin at the end of the field of spiderwort. Skeleton towers reached bony fingers into the skyline as blackened, ashen houses were the marker gravestones of many families.

The hackles rose on the wolves’ backs. Blood dripped down the white wolf’s limping legs, but the creature refused to let Nat have his body back until they reached the city. They were walking down a road by the name of Houston when a rustling bang issued out from an alley behind a set of houses.

A group of youths in grungy jeans and ripped t-shirts strutted out from behind garbage cans and rubble. Hair, greased and matted, streamed down their backs like so many slithering snakes. Gleaming sneers plastered their ashen faces. Their eyes were dilated and bloodshot, their stare zombie-like.

“Hey, boys, what we got here?” One of the lankier children chuckled to his buddies as he swung a long, thin plank and hit the side of a trash can with a loud bang. They hissed and chuckled to themselves. “We got mutts. Are we up for some food?” The boy that spoke first egged on his comrades. He had a shock of greasy black hair that hung in his morbid grey eyes. He pushed at it once and glanced back at his friends. Sun Hee’s wolf quivered behind Deck’s. Zola whined.

“Why aren’t these walking meatcicles running?” A blond teen sneered, disappointed with the game. Benj’s tail tucked under his legs and his lips raised to show bared teeth.

Deck glanced at Nat, his mind whirling, trying to remember how he had linked with him the first time. Nat’s wolf limped, the holes in his shoulders oozing. Deck’s mind slipped from its chaotic state and inched on a tracer path past his wolf. Nat, should we show ourselves, fight, go?

Nat glanced sharply back at the wolf. Let’s scram. There’s no use in us showing ourselves. These guys are on something. They arent seeing the world around them. You can see it in their skin tone, the way they’re standing. Nat shook himself, taunting the teens.

“Let’s eat!” The ringleader waved the group forward. Skeletal children crawled from every nook and cranny of the buildings like so many cockroaches.

Hana watched from the rooftops, having flown above the group since sighting the first bombed outhouse. She ran along the rusty metal beams of a ransacked, crumbling office building before taking to the air once more.

The wolves dodged in and out of the buildings, deeper and deeper into downtown. They rushed into one of the office buildings. Hana circled the tower. Finding a broken window, she dove in.

The remaining glass in the casement lay shattered on the floor, gleaming in the setting sun. She moaned to herself, having twisted her left-wing out of joint. Lifting herself from the floor, she stretched the wing out to its full length, an audible crack echoed in the building. “That felt good.” She ducked at a loud crash and yelling voices. “Can I not leave you guys alone for one minute?” She ran through the labyrinth of cubicles.

The door, with its flickering red exit light, taunted her from the far reaches of the massive room. She wanted to fly, but the cubicle walls laughed at her. She dove for the exit as a loud bang issued up the stairs again. Flights of stairs whirled by her as she plummeted to the bottom of the building. She heard a bark near the third floor buried under a barrage of teenagers screaming.

Can’t do this anymore, čovjek. You’re taking over before I pass out. Stairs are evil.

I’ll do what I can. If I pass out, I’m fifteen pounds lighter than you anyway.

Eat something, damn you!

Feed me something other than hibernating skunks! Nat came up short at the top of the third-floor stairs as the kid with black hair came tumbling up the steps.

“The hell! Where’d the dogs go!” the boy cried out in frustration. He glared at Nat, not noticing the other wolves creeping up the stairs on the other side. “What’d you do with them?” The tall teen uppercut Nat in the stomach, sending him reeling against the railing.

A sweet taste filled Nat’s mouth. His stomach burned as the sweet taste vanished into the coppery flavour of blood. The boy caught him in the eye before he was able to dodge. Out of a swollen eye, Nat barely missed seeing Hana flash by.

“Hana,” Nat mumbled around a split lip. Deck came lumbering down the stairs and caught the kid in the jaw. The boy tumbled back into his companions.

“You really don’t know how to keep yourself out of trouble, do you, Nat?” Deck hauled Nat to his feet and pushed him up the steps. He opened a door at the top of the fourth flight and pushed Nat through. The white-haired man caught himself on a desk, waiting to catch his breath.

Zola came up to him, turning him around to see the damage. “Ouch.” She touched a swelling eye.

Yeller searched the room in a state of confusion. “Hana’s missing.” A banging at the locked door forced them to crouch.

Sven threw Nat into the recesses, and whirled to stare in horror at the tall man. The creature felt like he had gotten punched in the stomach a second time. “She was going down the stairwell when I last saw her.” He ran back for the door.

Benj tumbled after Nat, pinning his arms before he could unlock the door. “You can’t go back out there, Nat; those kids’ll kill you,” he yelled at the struggling man. “Deck! Yeller! Help!” Yeller rushed forward to help hold Nat, but Deck was lying on the floor, moaning. “What’s goin’ on here!” Benj yelped as the creature caught him in the head with his elbow. The beast wasn’t going to be able to get away from Yeller so easily, though. Benj ducked from Nat’s thrashing limbs and rushed over to Deck and Sun Hee. “What happened?”

“He mumbled something about the power symbol on his gut and how it felt like someone was hammering on it.” She held Deck’s head in her lap. Pain washed across Deck’s pale face, and a fine sheen of sweat coated his skin.

Benj scrambled up and ducked under Nat’s thrashing limbs to unlock the door. “Let him go,” he commanded.

“Ye’r bein’ a gammy eejit.” Yeller got his arms crossed over Nat’s, stalling the man’s protest finally.

“And I’m gonna keep being an idiot right now. Let him go.” Benj nodded, and Yeller dropped his squirming bundle. The prior Muay Thai fighter grabbed Nat by the shoulders and shook him, gaining the creature’s attention. “Hey. Wolf. Sven. You paying attention in there? You remember the power symbols, right?” Benj asked. Nat pushed the information at the wolf in desperation, begging for him to give him his body back. “You know how to cause them, right?”

Sven nodded.

“Hana may need it.” Benj pushed him out the door.

Sven collided with two young women leaning against the rails. They fell back against the stair railing and tumbled down the flight. He ignored them, looking through the stairwell in search of Hana. She stood in the middle of the concrete slab that led into the lobby. Her black wings stretched around her in a protective cocoon. Teens squabbled around her, pelting her, pushing her, pulling away handfuls of feathers.

She needs power now, Nat. Send it to her! Sun Hee explained it to you. Find the light and push. Deck yelled through Nat’s mind. Sven bent under the scream.

Right. Nat replied after finding his link. He focused on Hana, waiting for his mind to clear.

You’ve got her, brat1. I have to keep us from dying. Sven took over control of his body while Nat fell back into the recesses of his mind to find the path of power. A point of light appeared hazily. It took a few seconds before the light became steady enough to direct. The wolf wrapped around him, the shadow behind him adding to the twist as they led him. Decades slipped by to direct that warped, three-coloured point. Sven gave her the warmth of protection, of life.

Hana cowered, overwhelmed by teenagers beating on her. It terrified her, the anger that swamped the children. Red, seething heat poured off of the children. She calmed herself and let the turmoil flick away from her as she went back into her mind. She found energy, potential power nestled within her. It was dangerous what she was about to do. If she unleashed too much, she would die.

I need help. She moaned to herself as she drew her hands up to her chest, laying the palms against one another. She waited for the energy to coil until it warped in her winged space. Another power, a different colour from hers, trickled into her cocoon.

She retracted a small fraction of hers, the energy needed to sustain her life while taking some of the new power in with her. She tasted the flavour of it, sensed it, knowing that it was one of the men that she had been around. Orange, white, black, and burning. It threw feathers of power out into her wings, stabilising them.

Hana waited until she could hold the energy no longer. Unfurling her wings in the cramped space, a sonic boom knocked the kids down throughout the whole lobby. The surge caught in her wings, sending her hurdling up the flight of stairs and out through the skylight at the top of the building.

Nat watched with a sinking heart as Hana flew past him once again. A crash echoed through the concrete stairwell. Glass shards rained down on the treads and floor. He rushed back into the room where his friends hid. Benj was trying to console Sun Hee.

“Guys, we can get out, but we gotta get out now!” He stumbled with vertigo, pushed past the nausea building under his feet. Nat grabbed Deck with Yeller’s help, guiding him out of the room and down the stairs. The others raced after him, distributing the load of the two injured men. They dodged unconscious bodies on the tiled lobby floor and flung themselves through a broken revolving door.

Sven found Hana limp against the building facade. She was breathing, to the creature’s relief, but she was out cold. “Foolish girl,” Sven whispered in her ear, kissing her temple. He picked her up, tucking her wings behind her back. Fire screamed in his shoulders.

Yeller eased up next to him, carefully lifting Hana out of his arms. “Wolf, you maime him, I will pull you out of him the hard way. Walk with me, and don’t take my throat out, and I’ll give her back when you can sit down and not make Nat puke, got it.”

“Is that you, Cashia, or your host?” Sven hissed under his breath.

“And you’re Sven then. Get moving.” Yeller turned to Benj, “Come on. We have to get away from these kids before they get up and come after us again.”

Deck nodded and let the wolf out. Zola, Benj, and Sun Hee took up positions around Yeller, Nat, and Hana.

[1] brother

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Subject 15: Ch 21

Fane stood inside a massive wood-panelled hall with a high elf, an orc, and a mouse person. Tables crowded with a variety of beast people, elves, and other races sprawled across the big room. A few waved and called out to Ishan and the team.

“Who’d you invite into the Jeweled Lantern, Bostock?” A tall male human greeted the group. Fane turned between Ajay and Ishan, wondering which one went under the player name Bostock.

“New player who’s never been in a nerve suit. A friend.” Ishan waved to Fane.

“Take it he hasn’t even registered a name yet?”

“Not yet. We wanted to get his level assessed.”

“Right. Carplady’ll help you out. You know the drill. Nice to meet you, newb. I go by Chip on here. I act as a mod in Jeweled Lantern. You get trouble from the older crew, you let me know. But you’ll meet my axe if you give us gruff.” The man pulled a cartoonishly large double-bladed axe from an invisible space to emphasise the point.

“Noted.” Fane waved a goodbye and followed Ishan to a counter where a woman with dog ears greeted them.

“Hey, Lady. Got a bit of time to register a new member?” Ishan leaned against the counter.

“Sure, Bostock! Let me pull up his gear’s creds and I’ll get his form filled out. This his own gear or?”

“No. He’s borrowing one of mine.”

“Alright, so a server account then. Ah, found the ping. Okay. Here you go. Fill this out.” The dog woman pushed a silver rectangle towards Fane. A sensor in the nerve gear picked it up and translated it into a window. It was a basic form, asking for name, sex, and gave him an option of spells, armour, and other characteristics. “Hey, it has this name, Lamp Sleeper. Is that what you were thinking, um…I actually don’t know your player name.” Fane turned to Shelly’s character.

“Oh! I completely forgot. Here, if you look above our head for a minute, a coloured name shows up. The colour shows your level.” Shelly pointed to a spot over her head. A second of concentration revealed a yellow font. “Mrs. Potter?”

“That’s me!” she waved.

“And you’re yellow?” Fane continued.

“Been in here for five years. I’m finally a level twenty!” She preened her lace bell sleeves.

Fane turned to look at Ishan’s player name. “Bostock45. Yours is like a lavender kind of shade.”

“Yep, level 30. The colours increment every 10 points you go up.” Ishan nodded.

Ajays was red. “LarimdaBoy?”

“It’s admiral boy backwards.” Ajay rubbed at his arm in embarrassment. “You’re red. Where does that put you?”

“I’m level 40. I might have put in a few more hours over vacation last year.”

“Why can I understand you so clearly?” Fane checked his setting menu to find it set to English.

“There’s a translator control in this that renders our voices into whatever language you set your preference to. So, Ajay and I can speak New Punjabi, and you wouldn’t realize. Or, we can go play on the BeijKong server, and you’d be able to play with them without the need to know Canton. Convenient, right?”

“Yeah.” Fane turned back to his form. “So, my guess is that you won’t know my level until I set a name in here?”

“Pretty much.” Shelly, Mrs. Potter, shrugged.

“Right, give me a minute to think so I don’t feel silly having ya’ll call me something.” Fane stared at the form, mind drawing a blank. A nickname from the base came to mind. “Red King” he tried. The system pinged back a denial. It was already registered. “RedKingsRightHand” he tried next. It accepted, throwing a waiting wheel up on his form while he selected his starter weapons and spells. There were quite a few to work through. More than he had expected.

“Holy crap, man! That’s just what the gear picked up?” Chip stared over the top of Fane’s head.

“It says level 92?” Fane asked.

“RedKingsRightHand? Mind if we shorten that to RK?” Shelly asked.

“Yeah. Thought I’d just go with Red King, but it was already taken.”

“Riiiiighty then. You got a gold hoard for that level range, newbie?” Chip asked.

“How do I check that?” Fane patted down his pockets.

Ishan taught him how to flick his gloves to open up his inventory storage and activate his spells. Fane told him how much he had as a starter set and the list of spells.

“At least it makes sense to your starting level. I mean, if I was a level 92 and started with three spell slots and a throwing knife, I’d be so freaking frustrated.” Ishan shrugged.

Carplady let them into the testing grounds where Fane learned how to utilize his controls, and proceeded to scare the crap out of his teammates.

“I thought you said he was a bard,” Ajay complained at Shelly.

“That’s what the orb said,” she protested.

“It’s in my form. A Lamp Sleeper Bard.” Fane nodded, flicking a line of fire at a mannequin where it burned away along the wall to sear the rest of them on either side. “Ok, why can’t I just hit the one?”

“Your class level?” Ishan grumbled.

“No. I mean, why can’t I control it down to pinpoint. I don’t like it.” Fane shook his hand and stared at his fingers like that would tell him how to achieve the accuracy he desired.

“That takes a bit of practice. There are sensors on your glove, and depending on where you press will refine where the fire goes.” Ishan settled on a bench to the side of the field.

“Did you want to take me out of here and go after a dragon?” Fane tried again with the fire, this time flicking the fingerprint of his middle finger gently with his thumb. He only took out half the mannequins this time.

“Dude, at our levels, compared to yours, we’d just kite monsters and die. I’d need to get you into a different guild to actually see you go up against a dragon and then sit on an obs-screen to watch it so I didn’t just KO this avatar.” Ishan leaned back against the wall and sighed in frustration.

“Always behind the scenes?” Ajay chuckled.

“Seems to be a curse when I’m around this man.” Ishan nodded.

“But I want to see it.” Shelly joined in.

“Same. Alright, let’s go talk to Black Parrot and see if they’ve got a team rounding at your levels. Chip came over from them when they started only accepting players over level fifty.” Ishan rose and stalked out of the training grounds.

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Subgalaxia: Ch 3

Dinner was lavish, as to be expected of Mrs Stiner.  She had been the top reigning chef of a lead New York French restaurant in her day.  She was a little disgruntled, though, to find no one enjoying their meal as much as she. Miss Teslanoviach was staring at her square plate like it was poison.  Corbin was picking over the meal like a depressed psycho, and Sophia was smitten with asking so many questions of the girl that no one could get a word in to answer any of the questions.  Corbin could feel Mrs Stiner’s seething stare melting into his Armani suit from across the table. He looked up at her and then down at his plate, a heated red creeping across his cheeks. He had hoped to dodge Mrs Stiner finding out about the time travel machine…but by the way Sophia was babbling, that hope had been crushed before the wine had even been poured.  It wasn’t exactly how he had planned to explain the situation to Miss Teslanoviach either.  

Burying his head in one hand, he placed his other hand on Sophia’s.  Sophia looked up, her last question dying half asked on her lips. Miss Teslanoviach stifled a gasp, such blatant physical contact between two unmarried of the opposite sex was unheard of, at the very least scandalous.  Mrs Stiner sniffed, “Corbin, by all the pate in Neo-Paris, what is Sophia going on about?”

“Um…well…” Corbin cleared his throat, trying to stall for time.  Mrs Stiner’s stink eye was something not to suffer, and he could feel it drilling holes into his skull.  “You see…” he tried again.

“I see a poor girl dressed in an ungodly looking dress dismissing my best lamb as if it were toadstools, a boy who I thought was man enough to know not to go dabbling with time, and a bright pink splash of paint with a stethoscope harassing the first.  What I don’t see is you fixing this,” she answered.

“Paint?” Sophia blustered.

“What’s wrong with my dress?” Miss Tesslanoviach whispered, plucking at her lace trimmings.

“Your lamb is to die for as always, Mrs Stiner,” Corbin tried to soothe.

“I’m waiting,” Mrs Stiner grumped.

“Well, I figured she could be of some use in the lab, actually,” he began.

“If she doesn’t go into shock first,” Sophia quipped.

“Miss Teslanoviach?” Corbin asked the girl.  She looked up, sullen. “Miss Teslanoviach, you would be a great benefit to both myself and Sophia in our laboratory research.”

“I don’t see how this is all possible.  Time travel? Honestly, that’s something out of those back page stories in the gossip newspapers,” Nicole brushed off.

“Our laboratory?” Sophia asked, startled.

“Um…well…” he was beginning to suspect the fault in his theory of having so many women in his house at the same time.

“She would make a fantastic assistant, Sophia.  She has a fascination for human anatomical structure in relation to industrial machinery, so you might be able to train her.  I would like to open up the lab I have to you for help with the project I was trying to tell you about earlier, and having a lab assistant around would be of benefit for both of us.” He set his spoon down before he used it to punctuate his words. 

She looked at him sceptically, not entirely sure where all of this was coming from. “So you abducted me a lab assistant,” Sophia accused.  This was going downhill rather quickly.

“No, I just…she was – I told you that someone was after her, and I just didn’t think, and I brought her through,” he pleaded.

“Can you take her back?” Mrs Stiner asked.

“I could, but I’m not really sure if that would be such a good thing now that she has seen the future,” Corbin answered.

“No, I can see that would end poorly.” Sophia’s dropped her fork on the china made everyone jump.

“Honest, I can keep a secret,” Nicole promised.

“That wouldn’t help you much dear.” Mrs Stiner patted her hand.

“Why not?” Nicole glanced around the somber table.

“If you told anyone, you would end up in an insane asylum.  Do you know what they do to people there in your time?” Corbin asked defensively.  He had read enough literature to find the prospect terrifying. Nicole looked at him in surprise at his outburst.  She shook her head, concern spreading across her face.“Lights are not the only thing that electricity has been expiremented with for practical application.” Corbin rose from the table, tossing his napkin next to his wine cup.  He left in a huff. Truly, he was running away. He couldn’t handle this conversation at the moment, and it was his only way to escape the three women at the table.

Sophia watched him duck through the kitchen and heard the screen door slam.  Corbin had left to the back garden. She found both Miss Teslanoviach and Mrs Stiner staring at her.  It wasn’t like she was supposed to know what he was talking about. He hadn’t mentioned anything to her over coffee last week about joining up for a lab project.  It wasn’t even like they were in the same field of study, not necessarily at least. “What?” she snapped, rising from the table to go after Corbin before she got jumped by the two prudish women.

She dashed through the kitchen and out the screen door, searching in the evening twilight for wherever Corbin hid himself in the lavish garden.  It smelled of jasmine and roses. The evening was chill, but a humid warm breeze ruffled the leaves of the bushes that encircled the grounds. For living in the middle of the city, Corbin had scored a pretty decent pad. She spotted him, rocking in the covered porch swing, feeding his koi. “Corbin?” She ventured over to him.

“Hi.” He tossed another couple kibbles, entranced with the moving ripples of the pond.

“Are you all right?” She settled on the seat next to him.

He sighed, looking up at the stars. He was startled by Sophia nudging him with her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m all right, just a bit worried.”

“About the girl?” Sophia asked, trying to play soft.

“I shouldn’t have brought her back over with me, I just wasn’t really thinking.  I’ll have to have her vaccinated for like, a billion and one things. God, I didn’t think…We’ll have to if she’s carrying anything…tuberculosis…I didn’t really know where she would be safe if I just dropped her off somewhere.  It was rather a good surprise when I found out her science interests, but it didn’t really occur to me her potential until you showed up. Sophia, I’ve had this brilliant idea,” He grasped her hands excitedly.  His handful of fish food scattered in the manicured grass.

She looked up at deep brown eyes, a bit surprised at his sudden change.  “Outside of all of your other great inventions and your time machine?” she asked. What more could he possibly do?

“I want to make a bank.” A smile spread across his lips, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. 

Sophia furrowed her brows. “I’m very confused, Corbin.” She tilted her head to study him, though she still allowed him to retain possession of her hands.  His warmth was nice.

“I want to make a human resource bank.  I want to go back in time and pull great people from the world to store them for future use. Have you seen how our world is going? I mean, our politicians suck, most of the world’s politicians are corrupt to begin with.  There are more and more poor people in the world, and fewer and fewer rich people, but those rich people, they have so much of the money, it’s ridiculous.

That and global warming, nuclear facilities, biowarfare.  Have you heard the news on the intelligence leak of armaments in Scotland recently?” he was blathering and Sophia was looking at him like he had gone off the deep end, but he was already swimming happily in dark water, why not keep it up?  “I want to establish a population of people that can reconstruct our society if our world proves to be imploding under this massive interconnected problem. I own a hanger in Florida where I have scientists currently working on a long distance spaceship with hyperdrive capabilities.  I’m hoping these will never need to be used, but!” he exclaimed, leaping from the swing to begin pacing the grounds.

“It sounds fantastic, Corbin, but wouldn’t that screw with time?” Sophia stopped him.

 “You see, that’s the thing! After I brought Teslanoviach into the future, really nothing changed.  I even looked into her while I had a second, and she’s just a missing person on the back page of a New York newspaper.  As long as who we take are missing person reports in the first place, it won’t phase the time ripples.” He spun in the grass, opening his arms to the sky.

“And what do you need me for in all of this?” Sophia asked, not really sure how she felt about kidnapping random unsuspecting individuals.

“Your medical experience will be of great benefit for preparing the candidates for stasis.  I want to make sure that no one suffers ill-effects from being placed in suspended animation until they are needed for creating the next human colony.” He bounded back to her.

“You know this sounds crazy, right?” Sophia asked.

“And I’m gladly swimming with the sharks.” He knelt down at her feet and took her hands in his, smiling like a smitten school boy.

“Corbin!” He heard a shout from inside the house.  Why was Mrs. Stiner yelling? He jumped up and hurried back inside to find the woman standing in front of the small tv she kept in the kitchen.  A news broadcast was playing. “What is it Mrs. Stiner?” he asked, peering at the video. A grizzly, clouded mess played across a flickering screen.  Tentacles flipped through the fog.  

“They just said that the…the – that thing just made landfall in France.  It used the underground. It broke out in Scotland. It’s…it’s destroyed London!” Mrs. Stiner tried to explain to Corbin.

Sophia slipped her hand into Corbin’s.  He squeezed it reassuringly, though a cold sweat dripped down his back.  The sounds coming from the tv had to have been designed by a horror special effects department.  It was an eerie scream of the dying and the tortured. “Shut it off, Mrs. Stiner.” He reached for the power button.

“I’ll help with the lab,” Sophia agreed in a whisper.

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Polaris Skies: Ch 14

Well toward midnight, the group came across a shallow hole in the side of a hill that led into a stump of a cave. The group collapsed at the edge of the darkness, neither eager to bury themselves in pitch-blackness nor be left out in the open.

Deck pulled his shift first, turning to the rest of the group. He helped Nat slide off of the golden wolf, allowing Yeller to turn human. “An bhfuil tú ceart go leor?” Yeller cradled him.

“Is mian liom go raibh mé marbh.” Nat curled into Yeller’s chest, slipping into delirium.

“He asleep?” Deck asked, squatting down next to them. Hana sat down next to them, using a wing to divert the rain from Yeller and Nat. Sun Hee and Zola were working to put together a fire ring in the cave. Benj trampled through the edge of the woods, collecting scrap sticks.

“Or unconscious,” Yeller ran a thumb along Nat’s cheekbone in worry. The man made no response.

“I wish I could get into his headspace and see what was going on. Why is his wolf talking to us, and ours are just wolves?” Deck stared at the waif.

Hey. Hey, human? Sven called into the darkness.

Sven? Nat responded on a thin tether.

Don’t go sinking into the abyss on me.

It feels pretty good down here; join me.

Why does your head hurt so much? I don’t like it.

Uh…bloodloss, dope.

No, like sharp needles type pain.

Nat? A new voice permeated his senses.

Deck? What are you doing here?

Holy fuck! Deck gulped in the inky blackness.

Nat rolled to blink up at the brightness of the midnight sky under shattered Polaris. “What did you do? That hurts,” he croaked, glaring at Deck through a headache.

Hana leaned over to touch Nat’s temple. Her fingers shattered his resolve. He curled closer into Yeller’s hold.

“Did the Flock touch you?” Hana glared at Deck.

“How do you think they got us in the cage?” he hissed.

“No, did one of you share a kiss or something like that?” Pink ran across her cheeks.

“What’s wrong with Nat?” Zola asked, emerging from the cave.

“This is your energy mark,” Hana cursed, looking up at Deck.

“What do you mean, my energy mark?” Deck squeaked.

“I mean, this star on his temple is an energy mark specially made by one person. It’s like a signature almost, but it transfers certain kinds of energy between one person and another,” the woman answered testily, touching the mark on Nat’s temple again. She motioned for Deck to move closer. He took a step. “So, who kissed you?”

Deck shook his head, then paused in shock. “Some of the people greeted us. They kissed us on the cheek….”

Hana sighed, rolling her eyes. Irritated, she snapped, “Figures. It’s something the Flock can do. My parents made us. They screwed with our genes to give us wings. In the midst of it, they did this…thing.” She waved her hand in annoyance. “So yeah, psychic powers of some sort. Looks like you aren’t the only creatures on the planet that are contagious. Here, I’ll show you. Sit still. This is easier on a stationary person.”

“Psychic? Your joking,” Zola protested.

“I just spoke to Nat in his mind, right, Nat?” Deck turned from Zola to the man in Yeller’s arms.

“Fucking hurt too. Now, while you two figure out how to fix this migraine, I’m gonna go hide in the farthest reaches of the cave where it feels like ice.” Nat shifted to leave Yeller’s hold.

“Easy, I’ll help you.” Yeller settled hands around the man’s waist.

Nat went to put his feet under him and immediately regretted all his decisions in life. The leaves slipped, a boulder landed in his stomach, and bile slicked his throat. “Maybe not.” He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, a shot of fire raging behind his left orbit. He could almost define the searing sensation as a strand of golden wire burying into the warbles of his brain. Sinking back to the ground, he buried his head into Yeller’s chest, looking for the blackness to take him away.

“Can I fix this?” Deck asked Hana.

“I’ve never figured out how to reverse it. Probably doesn’t help that he’s already in pain with those holes in his shoulders. All I can do is show you how I do it.” Hana shrugged, shaking her head.

“Throw it at me then. He’s not looking good.” Deck gestured.

“Hold still.” She studied him as she brought her concentration to focus. Narrowing her inner vision, she shut out everything within her hearing. In the swirling ink, she picked out a light from the swirling vortex and brought it before her. The bird-woman stared at it as it swirled and dipped. It emitted a radiance about it that lit up her face and her black eyes. Pulling her wings together, she used it as a shield, her feathers dancing under the swirls of power radiating from her.

Hana homed in on another presence in her small space. She directed the beam of light towards it, towards Deck. With it, she combined pain that stained the light a blackish purple. The woman lit it upon his left topmost abdominal muscle, where it whorled for a second before seeping into his skin, creating a jagged spiral.

A hand settled on her shoulder, bringing her out of her concentration. She looked up into Nat’s jade green eyes, watching as they swirled with an acid undertone. “You look just as bad as I feel. Are you going to be okay doing this?” the creature asked civilly, settling back against Yeller’s chest to set a tight hand over his host’s eyes once more.

“Just a little light-headed is all.” She flicked her gaze away to the woods. “I’m going to escape into the forest for a bit. I’ll bring back some firewood or something.” She rose.

“Be careful, Hana,” Sun Hee called from the cave mouth.

The winged woman waved as she took to the forest, leaving the group to handle the minor set-up of what little camp they could muster with no supplies and no clothes. The trees went on and on. There didn’t seem to be an end to them. The expanse rolled below her as a deep duvet. The clouds had evaporated, leaving behind a clear star-scattered sky.

She found a large enough branch on which to settle, folding her wings in to admire the view and wait out the headache she had coming on. A cold wind brushed at her feathers, asking her to go float. The stars shifted and purple haze burned at the edge of the horizon. A bird cooed in a tree branch above her. She sat back to quietly watch the creature flit between the branches while the sun rose.

Hana followed the bird off the branch and into the air. She breathed a sigh of relief as freedom brushed across her wings. The valley stretched into the distance until it ran into snow-topped mountains. Birds hopped from tree to tree, causing sections of the forest to lift and settle in the orange clouds.

“Probably should head back,” she told a raven that joined her in her flight. She caught an updraft and turned to wing back to the cave, keeping close to the canopy. She spotted a dashing pair of rabbits on her way back. With trial and error, she was able to nab one of the creatures for their dinner that evening.

Sun Hee was the first one to greet her, worry fretting her fingers. “Deck’s been sick ever since you set that mark on him. What is it?” She pointed a nervous glance toward the cave entrance where everyone else had settled.

Hana sank next to the fire and motioned for Sun Hee to join her. “I’ve been able to do this since I was really young. I was engineered in a lab. Born with the wings. Figured out the power marks are an emotion thing. We can set them on people, sort of a telepathic link. Usually, it’s just one emotion. Deck’s direct connection to Nat is weird. The guy I was paying rent to – you probably didn’t notice the white dagger-shaped scar on his forehead?” she asked. Sun Hee shook her head, but then a light bulb turned on in her eyes, and she nodded.

“Really?” Hana cocked an eyebrow. “It was terror. Every time he would get near me from that point on, if I was terrified, he would have that feeling permeating through him. Because he didn’t know it was my own emotions, he was, hopefully, convinced it was his. It helped keep him away more.” She wrapped her wings around her to drive the chill-out.

“What did you place on Deck, then?” Sun Hee asked.

“Pain.” Hana stared at the fire sullenly.

Sun Hee recoiled. “Why would you put that on him?” she hissed.

“If I’m in trouble, he’ll know.” Hana flicked a stick into the fire to watch it catch. “It spreads the load out too. So, if I’m terrified, that guy still gets some of my load. Deck’ll probably always feel when I’m in pain, but I won’t be in as much pain.”

“Pain and terror,” Sun Hee contemplated, “you leave extreme feelings that can be shared.”

“That’s my understanding of it. I’m not sure about Deck and Nat’s link.” Hana rubbed a hand over her face to pull the hair off the back of her neck, letting the chill of late winter blow against her feathers.

Zola emerged from the cave and sat down by them, wanting to know what they were talking about.

“I was asking Hana to explain the power mark she left on Deck and Nat’s star,” Sun Hee turned to her friend.

“Can you only place one mark of one emotion?” Zola tucked her hands into her sleeves.

“I don’t honestly know. There are different nuances of emotions. Like you’re happy, excited, overjoyed, happy to the point of crying. You see where I’m going with that, right?” Hana picked at her wings absently.

“I think so. Can place annoyance, mad, angry, terrified, fearful, worried, etc.?” Zola replied. “Yeah, at least, that’s my impression,” Hana said.

“How do you do it?” Sun Hee asked. “Show me. Those people did that whole cheek kissing greeting thing with all of us, so we’re probably able to do it to like Deck.” She pressed, excited.

Hana rested her head in her chin and studied the woman next to her. “Not sure how to explain it. I showed it to Deck, but he did it to Nat on accident. Sure, um…go into your mind, like a third eye and look for a pinpoint of light. Find your, I don’t know, pit of emotions. Don’t let them consume you; pick one out. Find it and understand completely what that emotion is, its shape, its feelings, its colour. Understand the context with which you would ever access that emotion. Know that you will be sharing that emotion with the person you leave your mark on permanently. At least, I don’t know how to undo it. It takes the edge off of your emotion when you place it. You aren’t completely consumed by it,” she told them to the best of her abilities.

“Show us,” Sun Hee demanded, intrigued.

“Deck and Benj will have my head,” Hana protested.

“Well then, don’t make it a bad emotion,” Sun Hee pushed.

“Like what then?” Hana asked.

“Well, pick an emotion you’ve been dealing with recently, and we’ll see what that does.” Sun Hee scooted closer.

“Do you want it too, Zola?” Hana turned to the other woman.

“It would be good to know how to set one if I need to.” A malicious smile floated across the tawny woman’s face, her teeth stark in the afternoon light.

Hana nodded and proceeded down the long black tunnel of her mind, talking through her actions as she did so. She searched out the emotions that had hammered her hardest recently. She knew the one she was looking for. The bird-woman knew that this one would ease her burden if she could figure out how to split it between her two compatriots. Hana found it, curled in a small ball in the recesses of her brain, warm and red. It pulsed and tingled. Her fingertips burned with the need to touch, to be touched.

She studied its shape and its residue, its effects. It took longer to understand it than pain and terror. It took more will, but she was able to peel away a portion of it – the edge, a shard of desire. Wings droop with exhaustion, she directed the lights at both Zola and Sun Hee. It was more difficult than setting one mark, but one so small, it was manageable. A brownish-red feather mark unfurled along the edge of the women’s left ears. Their hands went up to the warmth.

“Which one did you pick?” Sun Hee cupped her ear.

“Desire.” Hana smirked at the fire.

“Well, now, this’ll be fun,” Zola giggled. “Didn’t think about that type of mark.”

“For now, though, I’m worn out. I’m going to go down to the stream that I found a ways back and take a quick bath, see if I can clear my head,” she told them as she rose to leave.

“You just came back a few minutes ago, and it’s freezing!” they both protested.

“It’s all right, a quick dip. I smell like a dead rabbit, and it’s gross,” Hana tried to reassure them. The two women waved her off, chatting in low voices to each other about how the process worked from their observations on their end.

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Subject 15: Ch 20

Fane and Ajay stood in the hallway with Zahar, Chaitan and the other bodyguards for the royal family. The King, having answered to Chaitan’s knock and noting the congregation of men waiting on their charges, closed the door in their faces, telling them that it was private business amongst the family.

“Calm yourself, newbie. You might be a decent guard, but you suck at expectant father.” Zahar pointed Fane to the wall.

“Expectant father?” Fane stopped mid-step to try to understand why Zahar wanted him against the wall.

“You pace and leave ruts in the floor,” the old guard huffed.

Fane regarded the man with a frown. Voices on the other side of the door had not risen, but the tension seeping from them was palpable. He glared at the mahogany.

Ajay said something to him in reassurance and took up a spot next to Zahar, mimicking the older man in pose. Fane scratched at the back of his head in frustration that he still couldn’t speak the language. Shelly was off in Tri-Amritsar working on her dissertation, leaving him in the care of the bodyguards.

The voices on the other side rose. Two were female. Three were male. None were Prince Orlov. An intensity, that of an unchecked rash, burned across Fane’s shoulders. He hated angry yelling.

Something delicate, porcelain or china, crashed. “Nope. Not happening.” The soldier-turned-bodyguard pushed through a sudden barricade of bodies determined to keep him out. A broken arm and a man passed out from a headlock later, Ajay and Zahar stood in his way.

“Ya’ll really wanna do this?”

Ajay swallowed, fear glassing over his features. Zahar regarded him with cold silence before opening the door for him. “Watch your mouth in there.”

Fane, drawing a gun and taking count of the windows, stepped into the Queen’s Parlor, a regal affair of marble and turquoise. The woman in a formal red dress stood glaring over Prince Orlov who stared up at her with a blank expression from a striped couch. Photos and flowers spread out across the coffee table and floor. Shards of an expensive vase and water lay amongst the shrapnel, staining the photos.

“Are you safe?” Fane commanded an answer from his prince.

“This has nothing to do with you!” Abhi screamed at Fane as the rest of the bodyguards piled into the room.

The temperature in the room plummeted. Breath fogged in the suddenness. “And this question has nothing to do with you.” Fane’s volume promised every person in that room death.

Ishan picked up a soaked photo and stood. “Sure. I’ll be the playboy, mother. I’ll be the little jester in this family. I’m not marrying whatever woman you put in my way. I won’t show up, and you can’t force me to say ‘I do’.” He flicked the photo into the nest of petals. “One more thing. He’s my contract, mine to command, not yours.”

Ishan turned from the fuming woman and swept out of the room to the confusion of the other bodyguards. Fane and Ajay followed close behind, exchanging glances as to who was going to ask questions or stay quiet. Ajay shook his head and nodded toward Ishan to indicate they would wait on the prince to speak. Fane nodded, aware he had already overstepped boundaries.

It took a lot more of Fane’s will than he wanted to express to remain silent when they got into the elevator. Ishan’s shoulders quivered as the machinery whirred. The bell dinging sent him off at a fast clip to his apartments where he slipped in, Ajay close behind. Fane stuttered to a stop, uncertain. He had never gone into the rooms and wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow or not.

Ajay held the door and motioned him in. Closing it, Fane took in the spread of the room. A bang of a door alerted him in the direction the prince had stormed off. The two exchanged a silent conversation of pantomimes before Ajay settled on the arm of a white couch and Fane leaned against the front door.

The sun shifted from midmorning to late afternoon, transforming the view of the palm gardens outside of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. Fane sighed and shook his head at Ajay. He couldn’t stand there any longer. It was killing his feet.

Fane pulled out of his slouch and approached the hallway. Ajay pointed to the right of the hall, the one that would have a room looking out on the palm garden. The redhead knocked gently. “Prince Orlov? Is everything alright in there?”

“Fine. Fine! I’m alright. Just need some time to think. Send word to my amanuensis that I need to have my schedule postponed for the rest of the day. Just gonna take a nap,” came the reply through the wood.

“I had her wipe it earlier when Ajay and I went to the bodyguards’ physical. I couldn’t have you meeting with the Baron without someone available to escort.” Fane leaned against the door frame.

“Thanks,” Ishan’s voice came back muted.

“Want us to order dinner delivered?” Ajay came up next to Fane.

“Yeah. Send it in. Get yourselves some too. I don’t much feel like going out and I want the company.

“Any requests?” Fane asked.

“Surprise me.” Ishan mumbled.

Fane nodded his head back to the living room of the apartment. “What dessert his grandmother make? Gallium jam?”

“Galub jamun?” Ajay asked.

“Yes, can we order Galub jamun?”

Ajay raised an eyebrow at the man and left to the kitchenette that had an in-house phone to call down to the kitchens.

In short order a chef and prep servant arrived at the apartment with trays of fruits, vegetables, and mixings to prepare a more elaborate dinner than Fane had expected. “I thought we will order delivery.”

“This is better than delivery. That was in future tense. ‘I thought we would order delivery.’” Ajay corrected Fane’s botched effort at New Punjabi.

“Would. Got it. Thank you.” Fane watched the chef and servant in fascination. “What do the make?”

“‘What are they making?’ Some of Ishan’s favourites. I thought that was what you were asking for. Haleem, puchka, rasgulla, ras malai, borhani, and fruit salad, and galum jamun, can’t forget that request.” Ajay pointed to different dishes as he carefully pronounced the names and let Fane copy him.

“I saw these.” Fane picked out the puchka and rasgulla.

Ajay nodded. “You saw them in the street stalls in town on the way to the Baron’s house, I’m sure. There is a market there that is well known for them.”

“Mr Orlov likes street food?” Fane settled against the wall next the front door.

“Who doesn’t like street food?” Ajay countered.

“Will he come out?” Fane tipped his head toward the door.

“Maybe.”

With food spread on the small dining table and the chef and servant gone, Fane tried once more to encourage Ishan to come out. “Mr Orlov, food’s ready.”

A pair of footsteps echoed through the door. The handle turned beneath Fane’s hand. He backed up as Ishan opened the door. Hair scrunched and clothing rumpled, the prince looked like he had slept like the dead.

“Nap did you good.” Fane offered a soft smile. Ishan rubbed at an eye and yawned, following the bodyguard out of his room. Fane pulled the chair out at the table for Ishan and set about serving up plates for the prince, Ajay, and himself. Ajay watched him curiously.

“Why are you serving us?” Ishan’s throat was rough from deep sleep.

“Feels nostalgic. Probably did it when my sister was alive.” Fane shrugged, setting a plate in front of Ishan.

“You really don’t remember her at all?” Ishan picked up a fork.

“Not one bit. Her name was Melody. It was in the records. I don’t get to plate up very often and it just felt right is all. You look kinda out of it. Figured it’d save you from fumbling.” Fane sat down at the table with his own plate. “Now. Is any of this going to end badly for me?”

“No. Most of it’s sweet.” Ishan practically inhaled the haleem before he spotted the galub jamun. He stalled, fork hovering over a small orb floating in rose sweetness.

“You said your grandmother would make them? Maybe I overstepped a boundary. Thought it might make you feel better, though.”

“It does. It really does. You don’t know how.” Ishan pressed at his cheeks as he popped one of the balls in his mouth. “I miss that woman. You know she had hair like mine?”

“I was wondering where you got it. Your dad’s pretty fair, but I figured he’d be recessive to your mom’s complexion, especially by way of your siblings.” Fane tested the variety of foods and found it all mouthwatering.

“It comes up every so often on her side of my family. Grandmother, great-great grandfather. A couple cousins back further. It goes all the way back to when Persia existed. Everyone in the family all the way back kept their hair long when they got it. Mom says it’s a stupid superstition and wanted to cut it, but I would run and hide behind grandmother’s skirts every time she tried to get the hairdresser to attack me.

“I looked up to grandmother. She kept Abhi from being a jerk to me all the time and she loved when I would act out stories for her at tea time. I grew it out for her and it drives my mother nuts that I still won’t cut it. She thinks I should move on.” Ishan worked his way through the bowl of sweets before turning to the other dishes.

“Why a superstition?” Fane found the little rose-flavoured balls a bit overpowering for his taste buds. It tasted like the smell of the old women who worked at the records desk back on base.

“Something about understanding people’s feelings. That if you cut it, that you would no longer understand the people around you. I didn’t like that idea. I know at a certain point I quit believing it, but then she passed away and I wanted to keep her memory alive in a small way.” Ishan polished off his plate and went back for seconds, commandeering the serving bowl of the galub jamun.

Silence fell on the table as they all selectively worked on a bowl of food they had designated as their personal favourites.

“What do you want to do with the rest of the evening, Mr Orlov?” Fane finally broke away from the ras malai.

“Wanna play a multi-player with me?” Ishan set his bowl aside and wiped his mouth on a fine linen napkin.

“What do you have in mind?” Fane followed the man to the living room.

“You’d probably wipe all my high scores into the bin if it’s a first-person shooter. How are you with driving?”

“Ajay will kill us both in something like that.”

“Then fps it is and we gang up on him.” Ishan pulled out 3D Nurvo Gear helmets, gloves and booties from a cabinet and set up the lighthouses.

“Ajay, we’re shooting you.” Fane waved the man over.

“I told Shelly we’re gaming. She said she’d pop into the server to play.” Ajay set away the last of the plates in the sink and joined the men in the living room.

“You like her?” Ishan broached the subject.

“Maybe. I think so? I don’t know. She’s demandy and head strong. My mother and her would get along. I’m not sure I could live with that.” Ajay slipped his booties and helmet on and hissed as the electric pins connected up to his nerves.

“I’d take it right now,” Ishan sighed and shoved his helmet on his head.

“Hey, I’ve never used one of these.” Fane pulled on the gloves and helmet. “Ow. I doth protest!” The pins connected up to his nerves and set a flash of fire through the metal in his body. A screen terminal flickered onto the headset before landing him in a lobby with Ishan and Ajay. Or, at least, who he assumed was Ishan and Ajay and a little white mouse woman. “Shelly?”

Ishan pointed up to Fane’s upper right corner. “You need to touch the mic button to connect. She says she’s hearing you through mine.”

There Fane found the settings dial and flicked through it before coming back to the characters in the lobby waiting on him.

“Ishan. Are you a high elf?”

“It’s what all my tabletop game friends said I looked like, so I tend to play a wizard elf.” Ishan smirked.

“And Ajay? Are you really a half-orc?”

“Yes. Rage and resistance are awesome.” Ajay flexed, making Shelly giggle.

“Wait. So what am I?” Fane looked down at himself.

“Uh…?” Ishan walked over to Fane’s avatar and circled him. “Ajay, what is he?”

“Oh! Oh! I know what he is!” Shelly’s voice echoed through the speakers.

“You need to fix your mic, Shelly. It’s not clear yet.” Ishan held a hand to one of his long ears, the ear pixalating around it.

“This better?” Her voice came in clear.

“Yep. Now, what is he?” Ishan did another circle.

“The old manuals would have called him a genasi. Oh, what do they call them in the new edition? Lampmen? No, that’s stupid. Anyway, he’s a half djinn. What’s the bet on what his class is?” Shelly pulled out an orb from an invisible storage space and held it out to Fane.

“What is this? How do I hold…? Oh, that’s weird.” Fane’s gloves registered a weight of about twelve pounds to his muscles.

“You’re a bard?” All three of Fane’s partners exclaimed in confusion.

“What? Is that bad? What’s wrong with a bard? What’s a bard?” Fane poked at the ball in his hand until a screen rotated around. “‘Bard. Support of the team through music, dance, or other shenanigans that empower other players.’ Am I still able to use ammo?”

“What we’re going to hop into, yeah. You ever fight a dragon?” Ishan’s smile was malicious.

“No?”

“Let us learn, tiny grasshopper.” Ishan pointed to a wall in the lobby where a series of game titles sprawled across in chaotic colour disarray. A light hovered around a box and Ishan snapped, selecting the tile.

Fane found himself in a grassy field. Calming acoustics flitted about in the background.

“Welcome to Carmadoon, my home away from home. An MMORPG that I run a guild in. Let’s go see who else is online and see what you can do for tanking a boss. I want to have the guild hall give you a level assessment.”

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Polaris Skies: Ch 13

Hana sat in a locked utility closet on the first floor where her brother had shoved her. Sleet pattered on the roof of the building two stories above her. Footsteps echoed in the hall, growing louder. A key slipped into the lock on the door, and the hinges creaked as the heavy metal door slipped light into the cave. Michael peered into the closet, his face bruised, gouges running across his left eye and cheek.

Hana sat spinning the chipped wheel on a cracked mop bucket. Furrowing her brows, she refused to meet her brother’s eyes.

“Haniel?” He opened the door a little wider. She didn’t look at him, but she stopped spinning the wheel, waiting patiently. He slipped into the closet and shut the door, the latch clicking. “Look, Haniel, the Flock has been desperate to have the Seventh Trumpet back. For the sake of the Promised Land, we all need you to support us. The devil has played with your head. I can only thank you for bringing his spawn here so that we can purge them from the Land.” When she made no reply to him, Michael pushed through. “Raphael – Raphael is dead, Haniel,” he stuttered.

Hana shrugged, her voice cracking, “You told me Elly’s gone already.”

Michael flinched under her cold scrutiny. “Well, I guess I should explain myself?” he ventured cautiously. Hana regarded him suspiciously. “A messenger from Hell’s throne, like that wolf of yours, defiled her. Went and got himself hit by a bus the same night he left her. She bore this abomination. It was dead, and she bled out for her sins.”

“There is a definable difference between your concept of ‘defiled’, rape and murder, brother. Let me attest to that difference as someone who came close to that encounter on more than one occasion since leaving here. At least with murder, you’re dead. With rape, you wish you were. Your concept of defiled is so warped and misogynistic. Sins? Are you hearing yourself?” she snapped. “Why didn’t she know that her baby was stillborn before going into labour? A c-section would have saved her life.”

“We couldn’t afford the ultrasound bills. She said she would be fine and she’d give birth in the house so that it wouldn’t cost money at the hospital. She went into labour in Central Park. I had been out to get food. I got back to where she had been sitting, and she was gone.” He wiped away a burgundy tear.

“Bullshit. You didn’t get her the help she needed because of your twisted brain. That man may have committed a vile act, though I’m reserving my judgement from your warped brain cells.” Hana spat at her brother. She had left because of his screwed-up cult mentality, and she was not scared to lay into his side about it now that she had put distance between them long enough to see his messed-up ways for herself. “He didn’t kill her. Your unwillingness to seek proper medical treatment and your fucking bigoted incompetence contributed to her death.” She choked back a sob.

“It wasn’t an act of nature, Haniel. Those,” Michael steadied himself, trying not to cuss, “those wolves. We aren’t meant to mix with others not like us. Mother and Father had designed us to be better, higher than the others.”

Hana caught his eye. “Mom and dad fucked us up, and you’re going along with their supremacist ways. You know, if they hadn’t tangled with the avian DNA and made us into ‘angels’, we would be normal. Elly probably wouldn’t have died. Grow a brain and quit with this messed up cult, Michael. You’re poisoning yourself with this type of thinking.”

“Come on, we should get you out of here and find you a more comfortable room to stay in,” Micheal bit out between clenched teeth. He caught her beneath the arms and pulled her up. Dragging her from the closet, he led her down the hall.

“Why did you bring the Flock back to Ioda, Michael?” Hana dragged her feet.

“Mother and Father always talked of this place being the promised land, far enough away to not be bombed or intervened with by the militia. “I returned to Neo York to collect Raphael when you left. We needed a Seventh Trumpet here, and with you gone, the Flock was losing faith.”

“Why did you never send someone to get me?” she asked.

“I did, several times. No one could find you. We stopped searching when the last sentinel came back with the news that the old house mom and dad had out in Oregonia was gone to a bomb. I was surprised to find you in the clan territory,” Michael admitted.

“Thought this place looked familiar,” grumbled Hana. “Who is Uncle Gershwin? Did I ever meet him?” she switched topics.

“How’d you know about Gershwin? Guess it doesn’t matter, really. No, you never met him. He wasn’t your uncle.

“He was a friend of our godfather. He worked with Corbin and Sophia. Left Neo York with them to Florgia near St. Petersburg, something close to that, I think, where they have some big storage facility. He said Mother and Father had lost their way. Last thing that he told me was that he was going to help Corbin and Sophia make history outside of this world. Crazy loon.” He led her to a stairwell and up the flight to the second-floor landing. Doors stretched on in front and to their left. They padded down the carpeted hall until stopped at a door marked 308. Michael took a key ring from his pocket and pulled a key off. He placed the key into Hana’s palm. “Don’t lose that. We don’t have any other copies.”

Four bare grey walls and an iron cot. A table and chair sat pushed against a corner. Dingy drapes hung from smoked windows. A puff of air chugged out of the vent, followed by a cough and splutter as dust fell from its casing.

“I’ll come back for you at dinner. You’ll be conducting the prayer of exorcism. Make sure you’ve purified yourself. You remember where the holy baths are.” Michael turned and left.

Hana stared at the dreary room for a solid minute. She caught her breath and listened for Michael’s footsteps as they descended the stairs. When she couldn’t hear them anymore and had waited for another five minutes after, she eased herself out of the room, locked the door, and palmed the key before slipping it into her pocket.

She snuck down the hall and crept down the stairs. Freezing, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. A cat ran past her and shot up the stairs. She made her way outside and around the building until she came to the pin where the wolfmen were being kept. She could see.

Nat lay curled in Yeller’s lap. There was no safe area to rest in the mud. His shoulders had stopped bleeding, but the blood loss had left him weak and unsteady. Too much movement or being upright left him dizzy and vomiting bile.

Hana eased to the shadowed fence posts on the forest side, hiding from the Flock’s line of sight. She listened as Nat outlined an escape plan from the cage. His voice dragged the ground, weak and desperate. “We have to get Hana out of here. Sick freak is going to do something terrible to her. We already know what he’s done to dominate the other people here.” His words dripped in the pouring sleet.

“Think all of the Flock can fly? He’s got his entourage that follows him around. Would he send them after us?” Zola brushed back her sopping curls to study the grey skies. A sleet drop plopped on her nose. She wiped it off and looked at her cousin. Yeller shrugged his shoulders as he wiped a few drops off of his arm.

“So, Nat, can you think of an easier way out of this cage?” Hana asked. The group jumped in response to her question.

“Oh, thank heavens. You okay, Hana?” Sun Hee reached through the bars to hug her.

“Michael’s gone off the deep end, and I need to get you out of here, like now. He’s planning on killing you all tonight as some kind of religious exorcism.” Hana returned the hug, patting Sun Hee’s back.

Deck interrupted them. “You got a way out? They’ve got a massive chain on this thing that bolt cutters would cry over.”

“Think one of your wolves could smash this thing?” She pointed up at the spikes.

“Mine’s been begging to come out and play,” Yeller’s teeth gleamed under a lightning flash. “Willing to let it try.”

Hana backed up a step while Yeller handed Nat off to Deck. Golden fur rippled along his back, and his bones cracked in the wash of rain and sleet. The creature dropped to its feet to study the posts. It attacked, kicking and biting at the space between the sticks, fighting to dislodge the buried poles from the mud. A couple of minutes of snarling struggle left him panting, legs splayed wide as he regarded the structure with fury.

Benj approached the posts and tapped the wolf on the shoulder. He motioned up. Yeller took back his human form. “Let me give it a try. We’re going up.” Benj pointed toward the sky. Yeller raised an eyebrow to watch Benj fade into his coal grey counterpart. The beast stepped back, swung his head around the ring of posts before launching. He dug claws into the tree ten feet up and scrambled the rest of the way over.

Dropping to the ground in front of Hana, he shifted. “Where do they keep the keys?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been here in a few years. Michael had keys to the rooms, but I don’t know if the padlock key would be with him.” She glanced back at the group waiting expectantly on the other side.

“Think you can carry Nat?” He asked her as Zola’s wolf scaled the wall and joined him.

“I’m not that strong.” Her wings drooped.

“Can you keep him from falling off me?” Yeller asked through the posts.

“I can try.”

“That’s all we’re asking.” Yeller nodded. Sun Hee cleared the posts. Hana pumped her wings, pushing herself over the top of the bars and dropped in next to Yeller.

“I’m letting the wolf out; you just have to make sure he doesn’t slip off, got it?” Yeller whispered. They ducked at the sound of footsteps. A pair of bird men passed by, ignoring the pen.

“This is dangerous,” Deck hissed as Yeller reached for his shift.

“Sorry. I got a bit hot-headed.” Nat settled on the golden wolf’s back.

“They dosed us after lunch. We’re only lucky you didn’t get caught up in it all by going and sulking off in the woods. You did right going after Michael. Let’s get out of here. Hana, you’ve got his back.” Deck stood back to watch.

Nat held on, his shoulders screaming at the position. Nauseating vertigo hit his system, and Hana’s hands drew cold lines down his spine. He tumbled into the dirt. Looking up into the branches of the tree, the world spun.

Deck dropped down next to him and helped Yeller tug him into the undergrowth with the rest of the group.

“Ifreann na Fola!” Yeller hissed.

“Le de thoil.” Nat leaned his head on Yeller, fighting the ringing in his ears that told him he was going to pass out again.

Yeller grunted. “Can you shift?”

Sven?

No. Your body hurts too much, and if I take over, I will shred what remains of your muscles.

Nat shook his head mutely.

“Can you hold on?” Yeller tried a different tactic.

Nat glanced up at the blond. Concern crawled across his face. “Is dochá,” he gulped, not entirely sure if he’d be capable.

“Bain triail as go crua,” urged Yeller. He dropped into a stoop, prompting the man to piggyback. Nat cringed, having difficulty pulling his arms up far enough. Deck came back to help him get positioned. Nat cursed at the pain under his breath.

Deck and Benj supported Yeller as their wolf forms flew across the forest floor. They had lost their supplies, confiscated by Michael and the Flock. The wolves raced and raced well into sunset, Hana flying over the treetops behind them.

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Subject 15: Ch 19

“Miss Griyashi!” Fane called to the prince’s amanuensis upon approaching her desk the next morning. A meeting with the other bodyguards was slotted on his personal calendar and he needed to coordinate Orlov’s schedule.

The woman, no more than a grass blade in a droughted desert, beamed a welcoming smile. “Mr Anson!”

“Hi. Um, Ajay, Zahar, and the rest of the bodyguards are needing to run through positioning and movement plans this morning. I needed to check in with the Prince to verify his locations for the morning before I left him to his own devices.” Fane had a general impression of what Orlov’s agenda was, but it was always better to double-check.

Griyashi pulled out her paper files and laid them out on the desk. “I wish we could have these on your watch, it would make things easier, wouldn’t it?”

Fane nodded. “It would in some ways, but it’s also a safety risk, having movements online. Easy to hack.” He looked over the agenda and frowned. “None of the primary house guards are going to be available for Mr. Orlov to be having a conference with the Baron and it looks like he’s already been cross arranged to have a meeting with his parents?”

The thin woman sighed, sharing a knowing smile. “I was about to call Anna and have her reschedule with the Baron. It’ll make the man angry, but if it’s internal structure, it can’t very well be helped. What are all the bodyguards doing?”

“Being circus monkeys,” Fane grumbled.

“Performance reviews on the soldiers?” Griyashi noted it over the last appointment.

“Pretty much. Zahar’s taken over a new wing after Birpal retired last week and he’s wanting to have Ajay and my thought on a couple new recruits in it; if we want to shift them into retainer service or keep them as walkers on the grounds. Didn’t want to single them out, though, so we’re getting everyone in on performance.” Fane checked his name off next to the agenda adjustment Griyashi handed him.

“I’ll make sure to let him know when he comes out.”

“Who’s in with him right now?”

“His Royal Highness and Chaitan.”

“He’s plenty safe then. Kinda panicked this morning showing up to escort him and he wasn’t available until Ajay said he’d already gotten down to his office. Right, well, if everyone seems safe enough, I’ll get going for the field.” Fane waved once over his shoulder and left.

The training field, to his chagrin, was chaos. As usual. “Ajay. Fix it.” Fane motioned to the disorganized column of men. “Where is Shelly?”

Ajay blew a whistle and directed the men into starched and pressed lines. “She said she was going to send one of her colleagues over today to translate. Said she was thinking the men out here weren’t listening to you because she was around.”

“That true?” Fane’s language skills were still minimal at best, but his listening was improving, to his relief.

The big man shrugged.

“True.” Fane stared at the columns of men and hissed out a frustrated breath. Resigning himself to the task, he took up the clipboard and motioned for Ajay to start the three-mile run.

A man in uniform broke away from the back of the lineup and approached Fane and Ajay. Saluting, he introduced himself. “My name is Lajpal Singh. Miss Shelly asked for me to translate today?”

“Took you long enough. Why were you at the back of the column?” Fane frowned at his sheet and marked the man’s name off.

“I wasn’t sure if I should stay in formation or not.” Lajpal put his hand down.

“Right. Well, let’s get to it.” Fane set his clipboard down and pressed for the hologram on his watch to pull up drone statistics of the men running. “Does no man any good to watch a leader who can’t do what they preach.”

“Sir?” Lajpal glanced between the clipboard and the men already making progress on their run around the compound.

“We’re doing what they’re doing. That way they know their documentation is fair. Also lets me observe form. Make sure PT is formatted properly.” Fane stretched out his legs.

Zahar approached now that the translator had shown up. “You insist on this form of education?”

“It’s how I was trained. Part of why Mr. Orlov brought me on was to reinvigorate the base by way of new methods. What of you, Zahar? Where were you trained? It wasn’t here.” Fane took off at a steady pace, the three men following him.

“No. I served in the Lazer Break war. Drafted to serve in Bangladesh before it fell. Was transferred out here near the end because my commanding officer refused to put himself in danger and I had to follow him because that was just how the units were shuffled around.” Zahar kept a rhythm with Fane while Lajpal struggled to catch his breath, translate, and run at the same time. Ajay’s stride was long enough to keep up, but he too was puffing.

“Enjoying being a bodyguard?” Fane tracked a runner leading the pack. One behind the man pushed too hard to keep up. Fane figured the man would soon fall behind and burn out before completing the three-miler.

“Wasn’t sure what to do with myself when I was let go at the end of Lazer Break. Got lucky running in Mr Abhi who took a fancy to my ‘no nonsense’ personality as he called it. I find it an acceptable career path. Pretty secure as long as I keep him secure.”

“Job security decent here?”

“Could be a little less secure.” The man frowned, watching soldiers dropping back and Fane and his little group joined the pack.

“Everyone seems to love the royal family, though?” Fane pressed forward, the pace slow for his regular stride.

“Not everyone. We’ve had oppositional forces before. But it’s been pretty calm for the last five years or so. Maybe a failed attempt every ten? Been a while. No, the soldiers are pretty loyal. They get paid well enough, medical, dental, have time off with their families appropriately. They’re loyal. I wouldn’t worry about them.” Zahar matched Fane’s lengthening stride as they warmed up to the run.

The run finished, and half an hour of physical tests brought out a pair of potential soldiers that were designated to be moved into the bodyguards’ section. Returning back to the palace, the bodyguards introduced the men to their new stations and split up to find their charges. Soon enough though, everyone circled back to the same meeting room. Zahar collected the group together in the hallway outside. “Chaitan is standing out from of the Queen’s Parlor. Said she had demanded all the kids show up. He’s waiting there. Might as well go wait to collect them.”

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