'Nathan Burgoine's Blog, page 65

Sunday Shorts—Omoshango by Dayo Ntwari

[image error]This latest from People of Colo(u)r Destroy Science Fiction was so freaking brilliant. Here’s the thing: I want this to be a movie. Or a miniseries. Narratively, there’s a simplicity to the set-up; some people are born with wings. Simple, right?

Well, no. Because those people are all black, and on the world-stage, the reaction to this becomes massively racist and hateful under the guise of “protecting everyone.” It’s a really, really cruel (and all too believable) tale built on those racist bones and it’s so freaking well done. Could I imagine a world where the non-marginalized just can’t handle something incredibly special happening to people when that special thing never happens to them?

Easily. That Ntwari spun that into this engrossing tale with such fantastic characters and a payoff that had me grinning as much as it had me breathing in relief? Magic.

Sunday Shorts—Rubbing is Racing, by Charles Payseur

[image error]One of the things about listening to the audiobook of Queers Destroy Science Fiction was the overall tone of the collection: quite a few of the stories had a dark cast. This isn’t surprising, given the times we’re living in, but I have to admit, I stalled out on the collection a few times since I was listening to it in the middle of winter, and swapped over to books and stories that had more of an uplift.

That said? The fast-paced, ultimately triumphant (even in a dark setting) story Payseur delivers with “Rubbing is Racing” was the welcome breath of relief I needed when it arrived. The flash piece is quick, to the point, and knife-edge sharp: a pilot taking part in some strange sort of race (a destructive, violent race, to boot) in a ship he’s rebuilt specifically for the purpose slowly reveals—while the breakneck pace unfolds around him—what brought him here, why he races, and what, exactly is going on that would gather all these pilots together to race against time during the destruction of a whole planet, where the finish-line isn’t just a place, but surviving long enough to get away before everything is wiped out.

There’s world building, and characterization, and revelations—and it’s all done with such a limited space of time and word-count. This is flash sci-fi done brilliantly.

 

Friday Flash Fics — “Greater Good” (Part One)

I’ve completely given up on trying to fight the urge to write superhero stuff right now. I don’t know why it’s in my head, but that’s what’s there, so that’s what’s coming out. And on that note, when I saw this week’s picture for Friday Flash Fics, it struck me I could begin telling the other side of “Lesser Evil.” “Lesser Evil” was my first superhero story—or, rather, super-villain—and focused on a telepath named Tristan Edwards, who could not only read minds but could force people to do (and even believe) whatever he wanted them to do. He was, for a while, with a superhero group, but he gave in to temptation when he developed feelings for another member of the team, feelings that weren’t reciprocated, and he did the unthinkable. That story is found in Lavender Menace: Tales of Queer Villainy, and I’ve written other flash pieces about those characters before. “Greater Good” partners with “Lesser Evil” in that it takes Jeff McKenna’s point of view—the Canuck superhero known as Cinder—who was the man Tristan fall for and telepathically manipulated and forced him to return the feelings. “Greater Good” takes place after the events in “Lesser Evil,” but only a little while after. This story is going to take quite a few parts to tell, and I’m not sure it’ll be every week (though right now it seems to be the only thing I want to write, so…) but I hope you enjoy the ride.

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Greater Good (Part One)

Solange was staring at him again.

Jeff forced a smile, and she reached out and patted his hand.

“We’ll get him,” she said, her Quebecois accent a small comfort. It felt like home. He missed Canada. He was glad to be heading back.

Even if their mission in the States had come up completely empty.

What have I done?

“Thanks,” he said.

She nodded, and turned her head back to the window of the plane. They’d all changed out of their combat gear, and she wore a plain t-shirt and jeans, with a cardigan over her shoulders to fight off some of the plane’s AC. Her baby bump was noticeable. He hadn’t wanted her to come on this mission, but she’d pointed out that without a telepath, they’d have nothing of merit in their arsenal against Aleph, and although he’d known that wasn’t true, he couldn’t argue without telling them what he’d done.

And it turned out not to matter in the slightest. Aleph hadn’t been there.

Neither had Tristan.

Jeff realized he was clenching his jaw, and forced himself to take a breath and unclench the muscles. He considered a trip to the small galley, but didn’t really want anything. Still, he got up from his seat and made his way there anyway.

Solange was a telepath, after all, and he didn’t need her to suffer through his foul mood.

Or realize what he was thinking.

You gambled and it didn’t pay off. Telling himself that didn’t help. He kept trying to figure out what could have happened. He hadn’t heard from Tristan since he’d given him everything they’d had on Aleph—including his location—but when they got back to Ottawa, he’d send another e-mail.

Jeff snagged a package of cookies. One of the NAMDA agents caught his eyes and offered him a smile of support.

Jeff returned it. Playing the role of confident leader was second nature. Sure, they’d just flown the whole team to take down Aleph and found an empty building instead, but they’d found Aleph’s computers. Their intel had been right.

Which meant the intel he’d given Tristan had been right.

If only he knew what Tristan had done with it.

He went back to his seat and sat down, not bothering to do up the buckle. He knew he’d need to move again soon enough. He ate a cookie, and eyed the empty seats around him. The jet wasn’t large, just enough to get the team around the continent when they needed to, but it felt so empty without the rest of the team. But Lustre and Noire were in D.C. where they had to pretend to be happy about the new President, and Cirrus and Touchdown were on their way back to Mexico.

He closed his eyes to block out the empty seats.

What if Tristan was dead?

That was the thought he was trying most not to think, because he had no emotional answer to the question. Logically, his idea had been a good play: lean on Tristan’s sense of guilt to do him a solid favor: functionally disarm Aleph long enough for the team to take him down. Tristan could do it. He was a telepath of the highest order, and capable of deep mental control.

Jeff knew that better than anyone.

But if it had gone wrong… If somehow Tristan hadn’t gotten the better of Aleph? Aleph’s abilities outclassed Tristan in nearly every way. Hell, the whole team working together could barely keep Aleph at a standstill the last three times they’d tried to take him down, and it had only been Solange—their telepath—who’d made that remotely possible.

But Solange was no Tristan. And when he’d learned she and Juan were expecting (and had gotten married on the sly, no less) he’d realized their intel on Aleph’s location meant he was putting far more in jeopardy than he wanted to risk.

So he needed another plan.

And that plan didn’t seem to have worked.

He rubbed his jaw. It was already aching. He’d have to put in his mouth guard tonight, or he’d wake up in real pain.

Tristan used to massage his face when he was like this.

Jeff swallowed, hard. He hated these moments, when little memories of his time with Tristan came to mind. The events happened. It was okay to remember them. But it couldn’t be nostalgia. Never that.

If Aleph killed him, what does that make you?

Cinder tipped his chair back and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t sleep, but he could fake it.

If Aleph killed him, will you feel guilty, or relieved?

*

They landed, gathered their gear, and were on their way to the NAMDA offices when Jeff’s phone rang. He pulled it out and checked the screen, and his already dark mood plummeted when he saw the caller.

“What’s wrong?” Solange said.

Jeff showed her the screen, and she bit her lip.

Delphi. Thea Callas was one of their reserve members, one of two stationed in Toronto. Her metahuman gifts were all perceptive in nature, including the somewhat unreliable ability to catch glimpses of the future.

He tapped the answer button. “Cinder,” he said. Even though it had been years, he still felt just a little foolish answering the phone with his callsign. “I’ve got you on speaker. Mentaliste is with me.”

Delphi, as always, was direct. “I need the team in Toronto.”

Jeff tilted his head back, squinting his eyes shut and barely suppressing a sigh. “We’re not together. Mentaliste and I just landed in Ottawa. What’s happening?”

Delphi’s voice took on a tone he hadn’t heard before. Her usually crisp, borderline rude attitude didn’t seem to be up to the task today. “It hasn’t started yet, but it’s bad,” she said. “The worst I’ve felt, honestly. And it’s definitely here.”

Thea was afraid, he realized. “How long have we got?”

“Not long. Might be better for you to come direct.”

She wanted him to fly there under his own power? That wasn’t a good sign.

“It’s just me and Mentaliste,” Jeff repeated. “Touchdown and Cirrus are in Mexico City by now, and Lustre and Noire are in D.C.”

“I don’t care. Just get them here as fast as you can. Bring whoever you can. Deke and I can’t handle this… this whatever that’s coming.”

“I’ll be on my way in a second,” Jeff said. Then he paused, and forced himself to ask the question he was afraid he knew the answer to. “Delphi… Is it Aleph, you think?”

“Aleph?” For the second time in a single phone call, Thea Callas spoke in a way he’d never heard her speak before. This time, though, it was surprise. “I thought you got him.”

“No, he wasn’t there.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s not him. In fact, my sense of him just kind of vanished a couple of hours ago. I figured… I honestly figured you got him.”

Solange raised her eyebrows. Jeff blew out a breath, not sure how to even begin to deal with that particular piece of information, then leaned forward to get the driver’s attention.

“Can you pull over?”

They were downtown, so he grabbed his visor and comm but left the rest of his gear with Solange, and tasked her to organize getting the message out to the rest of the team, and any reserve members within range. It wasn’t like he could strip and change with all the crush happening around him.

Once the car pulled away, he took a second to step onto a side street so he wouldn’t make more of a spectacle than he needed to.

A second later, he was in the air, a trail of heat pulsing out behind him. He heard a few people down below, and his callsign—“Cinder! Hey Cinder!”—but there was no time for showing off for fans. He called up the GPS on his phone, aimed for Toronto, and poured on the heat.

He wished he’d had more cookies.

Cinder flew.

*

In the air, less than an hour later, Jeff understood Delphi’s worry. He tapped his comm, not slowing down in the slightest.

“Connect to Delphi,” he said, as clearly as he could manage with the wind whipping around him. Thankfully, it was enough.

She answered before the first series of tones had even finished.

“You see it?” she said.

“I see it.”

The swirling dark mass of clouds above the city was almost a perfect circle of black, and didn’t look at all natural. A band of a sickly orange-yellow flickered around the edge, while pulses of sterile blue-white flashed inside the cloud in seemingly random pulses.

“Sturm?” Jeff said, knowing there was no way, but wanting to be sure anyway. A racist bigot of the highest order, Sturm was a metahuman with weather manipulation abilities, yes, but nothing like this.

“No,” Delphi said. “I don’t think so. This doesn’t even feel like weather to me. Deke’s suited up, and she’s going to meet you on the ground.”

The clouds pulsed again, a rapid series of white flashes among the bruised oranges and browns.

“Okay,” Jeff said. “I’ll head to—”

The white pulses grew faster, and then shifted to something brighter, and blue. The clouds, which had been slowly rotating up to now, visibly reversed direction and went from the dull orange and brown of stormclouds to a something much paler. From brown to orange, orange to yellow, and yellow to a unique shade of brilliant gold.

“Oh shit,” Jeff said.

“What?” Delphi said.

“I know what this is. I’ve seen it before. It’s an incursion. A big one.” Jeff shifted in the air. “Call up records from… Shit, it was a few years ago now. Just search Incursion. And Quantum.”

After a few moments of silence, Delphi’s voice came back on the line. “I’ve got it, but it’s sealed.”

“Unseal it. On my authority.” He was hovering in the air now, watching the swirling clouds speed up right before his eyes. “You’re going to need to know what we’re up against, and it looks much, much larger than last time.”

“Okay.”

The pulses were still speeding up. Cinder took a breath. There was no way to stop this. Nothing he could do.

He hated feeling powerless.

“Have Deke read the file and then meet me at the CN tower.”

“That’s not near where the clouds are,” Delphi said, and then a moment later. “Oh fuck. Time travel?” He’d never heard her swear before, but he had to admit, the situation called for it.

“Yeah. I’ll wait for—”

The whole cloud flashed, one brilliant blazing moment of brightness so overwhelming he swore himself and turned away from it in the air. By the time he’d blinked away the after images, the clouds were almost gone.

“And they’re here,” Jeff said.

There was silence on the signal. “Delphi?”

“Cinder, it’s me.” It took Jeff a moment to recognize Lydia Zhao’s voice. Deke. “Delphi is unconscious, I found her on the floor, and…” She cleared her throat. “I took her to medical.”

Jeff swallowed. “I’m on my way.” He eyed the cloud, which had almost entirely dissipated.

Who knew how many people had just arrived. Or from where.

Or, more to the point, when.

*

By the time he got to the Toronto offices, Delphi was already in the medical suite, hooked up to machines, which were undoubtedly offering up all sorts of information he didn’t know how to interpret. Delphi was normally such a striking figure, tall and lean, with a kind of confident grace Jeff admired. Now she looked ashen and small, lost among the wires and sheets.

A doctor came to meet them.

“Is she going to be okay?” Deke—Lydia—said. She was in full gear, but she’d pulled off her visor and helmet. Jeff hadn’t worked with Lydia before. She was almost brand new, and they’d only spoken a few times. A little on the short side, and built solidly, Jeff had to remind himself she was older than she looked, and capable of moving at an incredible speed.

The doctor nodded. “All signs say so. A mild seizure from the results of the tests, though I hesitate to use the word ‘mild’ given how hard it hit her.”

“Thank you,” Jeff said, in a tone that made it clear the doctor was dismissed. He left.

“Did you read the file?” Jeff said.

Lydia shook her head. “I came in and she was on the floor, having the mild seizure.”

Jeff put a hand on her shoulder. “You did right. But now go read the file. I need you up to speed.”

Lydia smiled. “Really? A speed pun?”

Jeff blinked, but let a small smile creep through. “Unintentional.”

“Uh-huh,” Lydia gave one last look through the glass at Delphi, then left him.

Jeff checked his phone for updates from the rest of the team. They were all making arrangements to get to Toronto. Solange was already on her way. Good. They’d need her most of all.

Damn but she couldn’t catch a break.

“Sir?”

Jeff turned. One of the uniformed agents, an older man with salt-and-pepper in his hair and beard, stood a few steps behind him. Former CSIS, if Jeff had to guess. Career intelligence.

“Yes?”

“You need to come with me. We found someone, unconscious, after the storm, and…” The man didn’t break off eye contact, but he hesitated just a moment. “I think you’re going to want to be there when he wakes up.”

Jeff frowned, but nodded. “Lead the way.”

They went to one of the temporary cells, the kind adaptable for a variety of uses proven helpful when trying to contain a metahuman, and in the cell, lying on the bed as though he were simply sleeping, was Colin Reichert.

Jeff’s jaw ached. So did his chest.

“Did anyone else recognize him?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” the agent said. “I, uh, transferred here from Ottawa, sir.”

“Let me in,” Jeff said, and the agent unlocked the door with a swipe of his keycard.

Jeff looked at him, really looked. Same, beautiful deep brown skin, but no scar along the top of his left eyebrow. Same strong jawline, but no trim beard. The outfit, too, was different. The jacket, made of a strange material with the matte black finish was completely unscuffed, and he wore matching pants that looked just as new. It was Colin, yes, but…

Colin’s eyes opened, and he blinked a few times.

“I need to get to NAMDA, or whatever you call your metahumans here… the ones that protect people…” Colin said, voice rough and uneven. He tried to sit up, and Jeff helped him.

“You’re already there,” Jeff said, waiting for a sign of recognition in Colin’s dark eyes.

There was none.

“I’ve got a lot to explain, and you’re in real danger,” Colin said. He took a second just to breathe. “And I’m going to ask you for a pretty big leap of faith, right off.”

“That cloud above the city,” Jeff said, a sick, twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach. This whole conversation was laced with a surreal déjà vu.

“It wasn’t just a cloud. It was the side effect of a quantum incursion,” Colin said. “Something very much like time travel, though there’s more to it than that.”

“Time travel,” Jeff said, in a low, quiet voice. He’d met this man years ago. And lost him, too.

Colin nodded. “I’m Colin Reichert, by the way. And I’m going to help you, I promise. Nice to meet you.”

“Jeff McKenna,” Jeff took his hand, and shook. “Call me Cinder.”

 

 

 

 

Sunday Shorts—Tangled Nets by Ana Mardoll

[image error]“Tangled Nets” launches No Man of Woman Born, Mardoll’s collection of short fiction featuring characters who “aren’t special because they are trans, they are special and they are trans” and I am so on board.

Set in the remains of a place once part of a larger kingdom (now a shoreline village with many families eking out survival from the water), we meet Wren, a fisher older than xer years, trying to keep xer mother alive and their bellies full while living under the shadow of the white dragon that “allows” the humans to live in the area in return for a yearly sacrifice of one of their own.

As mentioned in the introduction to the collection, the tales here play on the titular prophecy “no man of woman born” and this story front-and-centres this. It’s not a surprise, but it’s the journey that’s so freaking enjoyable. Watching Wren find xer courage and determination to change things, to break free of a horrible cycle that has already cost xer family so much already, was such a great feeling. (And the added touch of the unplanned results of xer actions were like a little fantasy cherry on top.)

Friday Flash Fics — “Portal, Portal”

It’s Friday Flash Fics time and I’ve totally fallen into a Mutants & Masterminds hole over the last week. It’s a game system from Green Ronin press used to make a superhero tabletop RPG, and ever since I started writing these flash fiction pieces to draw on the world I started with “Lesser Evil” (from The Lavender Menace), the idea of a superhero-themed RPG has been itching at the back of my head. I’ve been working on creating the characters, and wow, this is so much nerd for an introduction.

Anyway. This picks up right where the last episode left off. In order, after the original short story “Lesser Evil,” these stories are:  “Terrible Waste,” “Ready,” “All Aboard,”  “Out,” and last week’s “Rescue.”

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Portal, Portal

It was much warmer on the other side of Railroad’s portal. Kyle stripped off his hooded jacket and threw it back to the other side, listening. The sounds of something like fighting were coming from the other side of a copse of trees, and he supposed that was as good a place as any to hide a prison.

He moved as fast as he dared, keeping low to the ground as the sky above him started to lighten to something more grey than black. At least it was cloudy, so the sun rising wasn’t too much of a disaster.

Yet.

Kyle reached out with his other sense, and felt only the finest of morning mist, a weak return on his awareness of water. There were no lakes or rivers nearby, or at least, not within his range. That… wasn’t great. He undid the tops of the two large water canteens he kept tied to his belt, and felt the water inside, connecting with it.

It was better than nothing.

It wasn’t much further before the trees thinned out and he saw a squat, concrete building surrounded by fencing, a single tower on the side furthest his approach.

Where were they? Why hadn’t they come through Jakob’s portal?

A flash of fire answered that question. The light drew his attention; they were pretty far from the detention centre itself, on the other side from where he was looking and almost out of view completely. Cinder and Quantum and Railroad were there in their black night-ops outfits, and one of them was prone, but the other two were upright.

Why weren’t they running? Or flying? Or using a portal?

The last answer occurred to him the moment he asked it: Jakob could only make one set of portals at a time. One in, one out. If he was concentrating on the portal back to the cabin—and since he’d just used it, he was sure that was what he was doing—he couldn’t open another until he let it close.

Was it as simple as that? They were buying time for the detainees to get away?

If it was, he needed to move his own ass back to it, because if they portaled home without him, he’d be stuck here in freaking Texas and the last thing he needed was to be in goddamn Texas.

One of the figures raised a hand and a flare of flame lashed out. So Cinder was one of the upright ones, then. The fire, though, hit something a few feet from where they stood and then curved up and around them, like they were inside some sort of bubble or something.

A forcefield?

Kyle reached up and tapped his earpiece.

“You three okay?” he said.

“Kyle?” Cinder’s voice was barely audible over a lot of static. “What are—?” the rest was lost, but Kyle was pretty sure it was some variation on What the fuck are you doing here? Only Jeff rarely swore.

“I can barely hear you,” Kyle said. “It looks like you’re trapped in a bubble? I can barely see you. I’m on the far side of the prison from you.”

Jeff’s response was more or less white noise, though Kyle was pretty sure he heard the words Quantum, prisoners, and portal.

He needed to get closer.

“I can’t make out what you’re saying,” Kyle said, picking his way around the edge of the forest. He kept his eyes open and his sense of water stretched out as far as he could. It felt like it was taking forever to work his way around the side of the prison.

Also, he felt like an idiot for ditching his coat. Red flannel was not a spec-ops look.

“The prisoners made it through your portal,” Kyle said. “So if you’re waiting for that, don’t. By all means portal yourself out of that bubble. Though I’d appreciate you coming back for me.”

More static, but this time he got more words.

“…scatters…Quantum down…Railroad can’t…”

Well, none of that sounded good.

“Still can’t quite hear you,” Kyle said. “But it sounds like Quantum is down and Railroad can’t portal from inside the bubble?”

“Affirmative.” Even with the static he could hear that. Then there was something else, which ended with “…the Patriot…the gate?”

Kyle bit his lip, and sped up. At least if he worked up a sweat, he’d have more moisture to work with. After a few more dashes from tree-to-tree, he caught sight of the front of the building, where a woman in the garish red-white-and-blue uniforms the so-called “Patriot Metahumans” wore was standing, arms reaching out toward Cinder, Quantum, and Railroad. She had the full helmet, too. The air around her, and thin stream that ran between her and the men, shimmered.

Kyle concentrated, trying to get a feel of the moisture in the air near the woman. It was pushing the mist away from her, and it wasn’t heating up the water, exactly, but it was bouncing it around really fast…

He didn’t know what it meant, but from the woman’s stance, it looked like she was concentrating. That made sense.

The other people around her were in the lesser, solid blue uniforms that meant they weren’t metahuman, but they were definitely armed. They were rifles up, too. That was… bad. He scanned the group a second time, still moving, and saw another red-white-and-blue, taller, probably a man. He definitely looked ready, but he wasn’t armed with any weapons, which didn’t bode well for whatever power it was he head.

If he didn’t have a weapon, it meant he didn’t think he needed one. Because he was one.

Kyle made one more dash, and then realized there wasn’t much further he could go. The trees thinned out too much and there’d be nowhere to hide.

He tried the mic again. “I’m about as close as I can get. I see two Patriots.”

“Her field is scattering anything I try to do in here,” Jakob’s voice was tight, even with the wash of static. Kyle had to concentrate to make out his words. “I don’t know how she’s doing it.”

“Quantum tried to phase us through and it knocked him out,” Jeff added.

“There’s barely any water here,” Kyle said, a sick feeling twisting in his stomach. “I could try to run back to the portal, maybe call Mentaliste?” It wasn’t much of a plan. Mentaliste—Solange—wasn’t even particularly near the cabin. Also she was eight months pregnant.

“We’re low on air,” Jeff said. “Partly my fault.”

“Oh fuck,” Kyle muttered. “Okay. Uh.. Okay…” He reached out, gathering all the water from his two canteens into a two foot sphere above him. “I’ve got one hit worth of water with me, but after that, I’m down to mist…”

“I think I can get you more,” Jakob said.

Was he struggling to breathe? Kyle bit his lip, waiting. “How?”

“Outside… isn’t… inside.” Jakob was definitely struggling to breathe.

No time to figure out what he meant. Kyle peered just far enough from behind the tree to see the Patriot and then launched his sphere of water at her with everything he had.

Despite a few warning cries at the last second from some of the blue-clad soldiers, it smacked her on the side of the head and knocked her down to one knee. Kyle felt the same sort of “scattering” effect happen to the sphere of water, and it slipped completely out of his mental control. He stared at the bubble around Cinder and Quantum and Railroad, biting his lip, but it was still there. She still had them.

Shit!

He reached out for the mist, pulling on it with every part of his strength. If he condensed it enough, maybe he could—

—water. Lots of water.

Kyle blinked, and turned to look at where his senses were pulling him. Above the gate to the prison, there was an open portal. And on the other side, so close the occasional wave was splashing out over the bottom of Railroad’s circular portal…

Kyle grinned. That was the freaking ocean.

With a jerk of his hand and a tug on his power, Kyle sent water flooding through the portal down at the soldiers below. The water slammed into them from above, knocking them in every direction.

“We’re free,” Jeff’s voice was a bit gaspy, but there was no static left.

“That’s great,” Kyle said. “Get out of—”

Kyle snapped up into the sky.

It was like gravity had given up on him, or gotten really, really pissed off at him. He flew up into the sky, tumbling head over heels, and it was possible he was swearing and yelling and he couldn’t even see what was happening he was spinning so fast.

And then, just as suddenly, the upward motion ended and he was falling.

“Shiiiiiit!” he managed, and desperately pulling at all the moisture he could find. Maybe he could gather the ocean water beneath him to at least somewhat cushion his fall?

There wasn’t enough time.

The air changed.

Kyle blinked. One second he’d seen the tree tops blurring past and known he was about to hit the ground, and the next there weren’t any trees and it was cooler. Above him, he saw one of Railroad’s portals.

“On my way,” Cinder’s voice was calm.

Kyle managed to twist in the air, not flipping over and over. There was no sign of the prison and he was much, much higher in the air than he’d been a few seconds ago. And there was a streak of light coming his way.

“Let me know if you need another loop.” Jakob’s voice wasn’t quite as calm.

“I’ll get it in one.”

“Please do,” Kyle said.

Kyle expected Cinder to zoom up and catch him, but instead, he seemed to be slowing down? It confused him at first, before he realized just how fast he was moving himself, and if Cinder had tried to catch him they’d likely both break bones.

“This isn’t fun,” Kyle said. “I am not having fun. For the record.” He had to yell over the sound of the air.

“Noted. I’ve got you.” That calm voice thing was pretty cool, actually. Totally made him feel like everything wasn’t a complete clusterfuck. It was only mostly a clusterfuck.

Kyle dared to look again. Cinder was kind of falling below him, though he was getting closer and closer. So was the lakeshore. They were back at the lake. In Canada. Jakob must have portaled him into the air and then portaled them to the ground and…

“You sure you don’t want another loop?” Jakob said.

“The ground is really close,” Kyle said.

“I’m good.”

The jolt of Cinder catching him was still pretty harsh, but Kyle managed to wrap his arms around him and hold on as the air around them grew very warm, very fast. The lurch of Cinder adding lift was palpable and threatened to bring up Kyle’s dinner, but it passed.

They landed a few moments later, and Cinder let go.

Kyle took a few steps, just breathing. “What the hell was that?”

“The other meta. He’s either some sort of telekinetic or he does something with gravity,” Jakob had pulled off his mask and was leaning over Quantum’s prone body. “Colin?”

“Ow,” Colin said, in a gravelly voice. “That… hurt.”

Jeff joined the two men. “You okay?”

“Double-double,” Colin said, in what was now sounding like a rather affected voice. “Stat.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Of course. He’s fine.”

Colin sat up, a wry grin in place. They helped him stand. “Her force-fields packed a punch.”

Kyle was still sort of just enjoying standing on solid ground. He finally turned and looked at Jakob, who was regarding him warily.

“You okay?”

“That was a great trick with the ocean,” he said, because if he answered the question he was pretty sure he’d start hyperventilating.

Jakob smiled. “You said you needed water.”

“You said the detainees made it out?” Jeff said.

Kyle nodded. “Yeah. They should be at the cabin by now. Five of them.”

Jeff blew out a breath. “Good. Let’s go back. Jakob?”

Colin cleared his throat.

Jeff looked at Colin. Colin shrugged.

“I could totally go for an apple fritter,” Kyle said. Colin winked at him.

“Fine. First Tim Hortons. Then the cabin.”

Jakob opened a portal.

 

Sunday Shorts—Cuts Both Ways by Heather Clitheroe

[image error]I listened to this story, from Women Destroy Science Fiction, as an audio while walking the dog and doing a few chores, and found myself considering PTSD, the notions of how we use tools—and people as tools—to get what we want, and how even when we’re trying to do a greater good, organizations or countries will often chew people up to get there, and simply look at how many lives were improved (by whatever measurement they are deciding “improved” might be) and call it victory.

And it was thoroughly, completely, drainingly depressing.

I shouldn’t put all that on this story, because what “Cuts Both Ways” manages to do is ground the point-of-view character so incredibly well that these thoughts the story inspired are still tempered by the man in question having chosen to do what he does (albeit without all the facts) and how he has found an anchor of sorts in the form of a woman he works with. It’s almost enough to feel hopeful (but not quite), and yet the man himself—who has been augmented and can “forecast” what is going on all around him via reading the electromagnetic impulses of minds—is not so completely broken to be utterly sad.

It’s a fine line to walk, and Clitheroe walks it well. The worldbuilding here is top-notch. Just the glimpses of the kind of technology this man has been altered with are enough to make me want to return to the same setting, even as I flinched over how he was being used, and the idea of someone capable of reading the zeitgeist of humanity around him so well as to more-or-less see the probable future was such a really unique and flavourful way to tell a story about trauma and survival.

Friday Flash Fics — “Rescue”

It’s Friday Flash Fics time, and I’m doing another follow-up. Originally, the photo made me think of the guys from Fuca, but last week I felt like writing superheroes, and this week is no different, so I’m indulging my own whimsy and returning once again to my world from “Lesser Evil” (from The Lavender Menace) and its superheroes and supervillains.

This takes place after the other flash fiction pieces set post “Lesser Evil,” which were, in order: “Terrible Waste,” “Ready,” “All Aboard,” and last week’s “Out.” This week has the POV of Kyle again, the young metahuman who can control and sense water, who, alongside Jakub from “All Aboard,” has been working with Cinder and Quantum (but only for a couple of weeks thus far) to get captured metahumans out of the ever-worsening position they’re in the United States since the government there decided to crack down on who is allowed to have powers and remain free.

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Rescue

They were late.

Kyle stood at the edge of the lake, biting his lip. There was literally nothing he could do, and that was the worst part. He’d only been working with the underground for two weeks, and though there had been some photos taken at Pride—had that really only been a couple of weeks ago?—he hadn’t been identified, thanks to the downpour and the quick actions of Cinder.

Jeff. His real name is Jeff. He was still a little in awe of actually knowing the heroes. He himself only had the one name thus far: Kyle. They hadn’t decided on a codename for him yet, which was just another reminder that he’d barely begun what was likely to be a long training period before they’d let him get anywhere near the action.

After all, he’d only knocked Sturm off balance when he’d attacked at Pride because it had been a surprise. He knew that as well as anyone.

Still. It didn’t stop him from feeling completely useless. Maybe if he came up with a codename he’d feel better? Jakub had a codename—Railroad—and he’d only been working with them a month or so, they said.

Then again, what would you even call a guy who could sense and control water?

Water-guy? Water-man?

Kyle blew out a breath. It was a cold enough night that he had a jacket on, but it was more the wind than anything else. Not for the first time, he wondered how he’d explain getting to where he was if it turned out things had gone very wrong. He’d brought cash, and he had his ID on him—that was something Jeff had suggested he do at all times now, in case he was discovered and needed to cut and run—but he couldn’t imagine explaining how he’d ended up this far up north when he’d left work at the restaurant less than three hours ago.

He checked his phone.

Closer to four hours now.

There was enough mist in the air that he could spread his sense of water out around him, and he’d been doing so pretty much nonstop since the sun had gone down. It was good practice, and it gave him something else to focus on.

That was how he felt the shift before there was anything to see.

Kyle turned, pulled the hood of his coat up and covered the bottom half of his face with the mask Jeff had given him, and tensed.

Railroad’s portal opened a second later, a perfect circle that hovered just an inch above the ground or so, rippling at the edges, and beyond it an entirely different place. To Kyle’s sense of water, it felt like a vent sending out warmer, humid air.

Then came the people.

A pair of black women were first, then a tall, skinny white dude, and then two more—two blond girls he’d bet were sisters who didn’t look to be much out of their teens. All of them wore the same outfit: a bright yellow jumpsuit with words stencilled across their chests and backs and left legs.

Patriot Center Detainee. Kyle grimaced at the sight of the words, but forced himself to look behind the five former prisoners. The portal was still open, but there was no sign of Jeff or Colin or Jakub. Just woods, and, in the distance, something that sounded far too much like gunshots.

Kyle stepped forward.

“Follow me,” he said. “We’ve got a cabin nearby. There’s food and fresh clothes.” He eyed the portal.

No sign of them.

“They’re in trouble,” one of the black women said, her voice heavy with effort. Kyle looked at her, and saw the bruising on the side of her face for the first time. A quick glance at the group made showed similar treatment.

Kyle swallowed. “What happened?”

“Patriot metas,” the woman said, spitting the words. She turned and looked back at the portal. “The portal guy got us out while the other two held them back, but I don’t see him now. I don’t think he’s coming back here.”

Kyle knew she meant Jakub. He didn’t know how long Jakub could keep a portal open; they’d always used them and closed them fairly quickly when they were training.

Always? Dude, you’ve been at this two weeks. Kyle’s stomach clenched.

He handed her the cabin key. “Follow the shore of the lake, and it’s the first cabin you’ll come to that way.” He pointed. “Stay put. A woman will check in if no one hears from us in a few days. She’s French, really pregnant, and a telepath, so don’t worry, she’ll know you’re all legit.” He forced a smile, and the woman seemed to relax a little bit. “Can you do that?”

She nodded, taking the key. They all looked like they were on their last legs, exhausted and wan, but they got moving again.

He knew the Patriot Centers kept their metahumans borderline malnourished and exhausted. It was one of the few techniques that worked no matter the abilities  of the metahuman in question: it took calories and concentration to use meta abilities, denying both left most unable to manage.

Kyle looked at Jakub’s portal. It was still open, still stable, and still showed the woods. And in the background, there was still the sounds of a fight, but he couldn’t see where it was coming from.

This was exactly the thing Jeff had told him not to do, but Jakub wouldn’t have left the portal open if he didn’t think they needed help.

“Kyle to the rescue,” he said, and stepped through.

He totally needed to get a codename.

Sunday Shorts—The Serpent’s Tail by Mharie West

[image error]Found in Scourge of the Seas of Time (and Space), Mharie West’s “The Serpent’s Tail” gives us some Vikings to enjoy, and joins them when everything hits the fan. I was a bit conflicted with this story—I was really enjoying all the stories thus far in the collection as quite empowering in the sense of seeing people like me (or just seeing people other than the typical straight-white-cisgender-male) in these pirate tales, and this was the first story with a specifically queer male character in a relationship with another guy…

…and that’s the problem the character has to deal with. It’s the inciting issue of the story: their relationship has tipped over into public knowledge among their shipmates and incited them to turn on him.

So, on the one hand, it’s great to read about a gay viking: he’s got a loving fellow, also has a wife and children (and the wife is in the loop and relationship, as it were, and her character has some solid disability rep, too). But on the other? All the bad things happening to them are because of the queerness, they’re on the run and have to abandon everything, and the ending is a potential upturn in their luck. Thematically, after the other stories thus far, it was just a bit of a surprise and felt a little bit like a downer. But I did enjoy the story (especially the visually impaired woman).

Friday Flash Fics — “Out”

Today’s Friday Flash Fics made me think of how important Pride is these days especially, where it feels like the pendulum is swinging against us. So I went back to my world of “Lesser Evil” (from The Lavender Menace) and superheroes and supervillains. This takes place after the other flash fiction pieces set post “Lesser Evil,” which were, in order: “Terrible Waste,” “Ready,” and “All Aboard.”

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Out

Kyle stared out among the sea of people and rainbow flags, warmth radiating from his chest. He rocked forward onto his toes and craned his neck—curse his mother’s side of the family for being so short—but it wasn’t too hard to see the floats as they approached. The parade was being led by Black Lives Matter this year, and their banner was held high.

The cheering began in earnest now, and Kyle grinned.

There was one float in particular his was waiting for, and he bet that a large amount of the crowd was doing the same thing, given how many NAMDA logos and shirts he saw—though many of those shirts had the logo written in a rainbow font for today.

He wasn’t wearing anything like that. He had his bi pride shirt on, the three bars of blue, purple, and pink across his chest, but he wasn’t quite ready to be out in the other way.

But he couldn’t wait to see them.

There were dykes on bikes and then a float full of dancing guys in tight shorts for one of the local bars, and then…

There they were.

The cheering got all the louder, and Kyle found himself whooping along with the rest.

Cinder and Quantum had made new costumes for the parade, and Cinder had shaved off his beard. Cinder’s usual pattern with the stylized flame motif down both arms was the same in design, but instead of red and white, his outfit was done in the gay pride rainbow. Beside him, Quantum’s infinity symbol had been redone in bars of pink, yellow, and blue. Also it was sleeveless, and it turned out Quantum had guns.

Kyle didn’t think he’d ever been this proud or excited and then Cinder rose off the float and hovered above it and waved at everyone and it turned out Kyle could be more excited and proud.

This was awesome.

Despite the half-mask that covered most of Cinder’s face, Kyle knew beneath it was a fairly normal looking guy with ginger hair and nice eyes. Cinder wasn’t the one the North American Metahuman Defense Agency trotted out when they needed sex appeal. That job fell to Touchdown, with his military looks and chiseled chin, or Noire, with that whole Cajun bad-boy thing he did so well. Or, when it was time for the ladies to step forward, Lustre, who practically oozed sensuality with her faint accent and perfectly arched brows.

But Kyle had always liked Cinder. He was lean, though he was definitely fit, what with all the work the whole group did across the continent, and in interviews and discussions, it was clear he was their leader. He seemed kind and compassionate, and so very Canadian.

When he’d come out to the world, it had been quite a big deal. The first out metahuman. And then when he’d announced he was dating Quantum, who seriously had the most amazing arms and wow, was it fun to watch him waving at the crowd, too… Well.

Kyle might never tell anyone about the other thing, especially not with how the US just slammed the doors for NAMDA, all but ending the group in anything but name and closing the borders to any metahumans.

But he had come out about being bi. And that had been something amazing.

The float was rounding the corner now. Cinder landed on the float again, and then leaned in to Quantum. Quantum dropped a kiss on him like nobody’s business and the crowd went wild.

And then the sky darkened.

Kyle looked up, frowning, along with about half the crowd. It had been a gorgeous, sunny day, perfect for Pride, but now there were clouds—dark clouds—and they hadn’t been there even a moment ago.

Kyle looked at the metahumans. On the float, Cinder was talking into his wrist, and Quantum was frowning.

The wind was picking up, and the temperature was dropping, fast. Kyle bit his lip. The mood of the crowd shifted, and the noise of confusion and trepidation was quickly turning into fear.

For just a second, Kyle wondered if this was Cirrus, but that made no sense. She was on NAMDA, a teammate to Cinder and Quantum, and there was no way she’d do something like this.

But there were others…

Kyle started looking, even as people around him began to move in earnest. A drop of rain hit his forehead, and the noise of the crowd changed again.

The floats had stopped moving. The onlookers were stepping back into doorways and inside buildings.

The sky was so dark now some of the streetlights, the ones with photosensors, were turning on.

Thunder roared above them, and that was it. Tension boiled over, and someone screamed. Others started running. Cinder rose into the air again, hovering above the people and began issuing orders in his calm, even voice.

“Go inside, move carefully and don’t panic…”

It helped.

The deluge came a few seconds later.

Kyle didn’t move. He was still looking around, though it wasn’t really possible to see now.

Of course, that wasn’t how Kyle was looking.

Somewhere. The person responsible had to be somewhere around here…

His shirt was stuck to him in moments, wet through. He could feel it against his skin, in the cloth of the shirt, along the waistband of his jeans and…

And the puddles. And the buildings, square and angular. And the road, smooth and flat. And in the air, like curtains. And…

Kyle tilted his head. There was a hole in the rain. A place where the water wasn’t, where it hit something and moved around it, a shape much like that of Cinder above the float the people on the ground. And it was above him and behind him.

Kyle turned, raised his hand, and pointed.

“There!” he yelled, as loud as he could. “Cinder! There!”

He felt rather than saw Cinder fly through the rain and between the buildings.

The flash of light and roll of thunder came a second later, almost in unison, and the afterimage burned in Kyle’s eyes so brightly he clamped them shut. Something exploded on the other side of the street. People were screaming. He heard Quantum’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words over the ringing in his ears.

He concentrated on the water. It was everywhere around him thanks to the pouring rain, and it filled his senses, a kind of map of the street.

A large chunk of the building on the other side of the street, behind where Cinder had been floating, was now gone. And he could feel, above him, two quickly-moving blurs in the air where they disrupted the rain. There was no way to know which one was Cinder and which one was the other, unknown metahuman.

Kyle swallowed. His vision was coming back, and he blinked rapidly, looking up.

Sturm. The man’s costume was nothing to really write home about, an ugly take on something like a soldier, but his ranting and raving about “nationalism” and his ability to control the weather made for a dangerous combination.

He used to partner up with a guy who called himself Drang, a metahuman who could make people feel panic or freak out or—he remembered a pro-immigrant protest the two had turned up at—unreasonably violent. Drang had been taken down by NAMDA last year, before the US had changed the rules and closed the borders. He was in a prison somewhere, mostly thanks to Mentaliste, who’d outclassed him in the telepathy department, but also Cinder, who’d surrounded him with a wall of flame so he couldn’t see his targets to use his powers.

It looked like Sturm was ready to settle a score.

They both moved quickly in the air, and though Cinder seemed the more nimble, Sturm was visibly twisting the air around them into tiny cyclones and definitely had Cinder on the defensive. When he had a moment and a clear shot, Cinder tried a bolt of flame, but the rain all but smothered it before it got to Sturm, and what did hit the man barely scorched his faux uniform.

Kyle clenched his fists, breathing in little bursts of air. Come on, come on…

Another flash of light and cacophony of thunder blinded him again, and Kyle threw his arm up over his head. The lightning had arced in the air, not touching down, but he felt the way it disintegrated the rain, burning the water into steam and drawing a line between the two men and just barely missing one, who twisted and dropped in a jagged, uneven fall…

No!

He blinked away the brightness in time to see Cinder recover enough to stay aloft a few feet above the street, but the pattern of black across the side of his left shoulder and arm made it clear the lightning had at least grazed him.

Above them, Sturm raised both arms. His gas-mask obscured his face, but Kyle swore he could feel the man grinning.

The next lightning strike would have hit Cinder directly in the chest, but suddenly Quantum was there, and he’d reached up and wrapped a hand around Cinder’s ankle. The lightning bolt passed through them, slamming into the street behind them with a crack and boom.

Kyle could feel the rain passing through them as well. To his odd sense of where the water was, they simply weren’t there. He could see them, yes, but they weren’t there.

“You can’t phase him forever,” Sturm’s voice, muffled by the mask and the rain and the wind, was barely clear enough to make out. “And even if you could, I think you’d rather worry about all those people, no?”

Quantum exchanged a glance with Cinder, but the twisting ropes of wind Sturm was creating were already moving from the sky down to the street. Most people had gone inside, though a few, like Kyle were still outside and watching, crouched under cover but wanting to see.

And there were the drivers of the floats, too, most of whom were still inside.

He’d kill everyone he could. Quantum couldn’t be everywhere at once, and Kyle was pretty sure he could only phase whatever he was touching.

The first mini-twister touched down and started for a group of people cowering in a doorway. Quantum let go of Cinder and was across the street in a flash. Cinder raised his hands and blasted fire up at Sturm, but it barely amounted to anything in the deluge. Sturm leisurely drifted to the left.

People were going to die.

Quantum drove into the people and the twisting wind seemed to pass through them all, shattering the storefront windows and sending trash and debris flying in all directions.

There were screams from inside.

People were going to die.

Kyle saw the other twisters hitting the ground. He saw Cinder bolt across the street to try and get to the bystanders before the wind could.

It wasn’t enough. They couldn’t possibly do it.

Kyle raised his hands, and clenched his fists.

All the rain in the air stuttered for just a moment, then stopped. Kyle brought his hands together, crying out at the pressure inside his skull. He’d never tried to move this much water before.

All the rain raced at Sturm, pelting him and sticking to him, relentlessly slamming him from all sides. He lurched in the air, and the twisters frayed and blew apart on the ground.

Kyle pressed his fists together, hard, and more and more water surrounded the man. It formed a sphere, and the man flailed inside it, twisting in an attempt to escape, but unable to manage it.

Then he looked down, and Kyle saw the moment the gas-mask goggles lined up with him.

Sturm stopped struggling, and Kyle tried to move the water beneath the man’s mask. Surely that would be enough, if he just flooded the mask it would be enough to—

White light and the crack of thunder.

Kyle waited for pain and death to come, eyes closed tight.

It didn’t.

He opened his eyes and saw Quantum was standing in front of him, one hand holding Kyle’s shoulder.

“Hi,” Kyle said.

Quantum offered a wry grin in return. “Hi.”

The ground smoked and hissed behind them.

Kyle looked up. The sphere of water around Sturm was sloughing off. He couldn’t hold it much longer.

“I can’t keep this up,” Kyle said. He was still trying to make the water get into the man’s mask, but damn it if there didn’t seem to be any seams in the bloody thing. How long could the man hold his breath in there, anyway?

As if in answer, wind whipped up from all sides and tore apart Kyle’s sphere of water, and Sturm launched himself up into the air, and then, after a single, graceless arc, he was off and receding into the distance.

Above them, the sky started to clear almost instantly.

Kyle shivered.

Cinder landed in front of them. Quantum finally let go of his shoulder.

The three men stared at each other for a long moment.

“Happy Pride,” Cinder said.

Kyle laughed. It was more of a surprised bark than a real laugh, but it felt good. “You too.”

“We should probably get you out of here,” Cinder said, then eyed Quantum. “You got this?”

“I’m on it.”

There were sirens in the distance now. Cinder held out his hand.

It took Kyle a second to figure out what was about to happen, but he took Cinder’s hand and Cinder pulled him in close and wow the man was really, really warm to the touch and then Kyle was just holding onto him because they were flying away from what was left of the pride parade.

Which, Kyle supposed, was as good a time as any to have come out, really.

 

Sunday Shorts—Wilson’s Singularity, by Terence Taylor

[image error]This tale, from People of Colo(u)r Destroy Science Fiction, was so damn clever I cannot tell you. The notion behind it is deceptively simple: we’re following the titular Wilson as he navigates the anniversary of the creation of the Unity—an AI he designed/directed/taught that reached out, world-wide, and enforced a kind of “your freedoms end at the freedoms of others” regime on everyone.

No more 1%. No more dictatorships. The world is—at least by many measures—safer. It’s definitely more equal. And beyond that, it’s monitored completely by the Unity in a way that can’t be undone nor taken down. This is the new normal, and for Wilson, at least, it’s something to be proud of.

At least at first.

Taylor explores a few notions throughout the story via Wilson and his recently reunited ex-boyfriend to great effect: does it count as a better world if no one can choose to do evil since it will be effectively, assuredly stopped? Does the difference even matter if the result is this world-wide peace, lack of want, and freedom of personal expression? Is it worth it?

It’s funny, but while I read the story, I was 100% on board with Unity. I appreciated the dialog and the characters who all struggled with it, but at no point did I not think this fictionalized version of “no one can harm another” utopia would be a place I wouldn’t want to be. I’m ready. When can I move in?