Michael S. Atkinson's Blog, page 32

Allergic Reaction

Stacey began tentatively. Despite Melinda Raxenpaxerflirk’s gurgling assurances, she wasn’t sure alien cookies were entirely safe. As she went on, however, she found with increasing delight that they were super tasty. She hardly minded now that she had popped a third eye.

 

She Didn’t Start the Fire

Last time, in the Catrina Chronicles, our heroine had accompanied Lady Susan Blackacre (destined to become our heroine’s arch-nemesis) to take in a parade in Sarajevo, on June 28th, 1914. But it’s not as if anything historically significant was going to happen that day….right?

Susan and Catrina were just finishing a late-morning snack at a small delicatessen in Sarajevo when they noticed a shiny black car approaching. They instantly recognized the occupants: Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, the Duchess Sophie. “Ah-ha!” exulted Susan. “My destiny isn’t ruined after all!”

Catrina felt she had to stop something; the trouble was, she didn’t know what it was she was supposed to stop. How was she to know what event had turned Susan evil? If she didn’t know, how could she prevent it and keep Susan from going bad? Should she keep Susan away from the Archduke, or try to get them together?  What was she supposed to do?

“For one thing,” said Catrina, “I’m not going to stand around while my narrator proposes a series of profound rhetorical questions.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry, Susan. I was just talking to, er, myself.”

“Ah,” Susan said. “Well, if you’re done with that, maybe you could help me get the Archduke’s attention?”

“Do you even know on what subject you’re going to converse with him?” Catrina demanded.

“No, but I clearly have to meet with him! It’s my destiny!”

Catrina rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you go on far too much about your destiny. How do you know you’re supposed to be some grand heroine of a thrilling story? Why can’t you just be you?” She spoke from experience, as she had pondered her role as a character in a story for some time.

“I don’t want to be just me,” protested Susan. “I’m a daughter of a minor noble family. My father is well off, but that may not always be the case. I’m basically sitting around waiting to get married off to some bore or other, or else I’ll keep on sitting alone until I die of old age. I don’t want to do that, don’t you understand? I’d rather run off with some random stranger, like that man over there!” She pointed to a nearby dark-haired gentleman, who was staring intensely at the passing car. All at once the car stopped, and the driver appeared to be attempting to back up. The dark-haired gentleman produced a pistol and stepped forward.

Catrina didn’t know about history, or temporal paradoxes, or the various strictures about time travelers not interfering with fixed points in the time stream. What she knew was that someone was about to shoot someone else right in front of her, and she decided that she didn’t care for that to happen. She didn’t have Mlrning (the Shovel of Thor!) with her; it was locked safely away in her trunk at the hotel. She could’ve psychically summoned the mighty Shovel to her, but that would take time, and the would-be assassin was raising his gun to fire. Catrina threw herself forward and launched into a flying snap-kick that sent Gavrilo Princip hurtling back into a nearby flour barrel.

There was a sudden blinding flash. History had just been changed. Space and time broke apart like they had been in a relationship, and space had called time up again last night, but time was like we-EEE are never ever ever getting back together.  A rift in the space-time continuum opened up, as rifts are wont to do. Unfortunately, it opened up right in front of Susan. In an instant she glimpsed the hurtling vortex of the universe. But not exactly in the same way that someone else in the actual real world might glimpse it. Susan, after all, was not a real person. She was a character in a story, the same as Catrina, the same as everyone around her. They were in historical fiction, yes, but they weren’t real, none of them. In that moment the truth of her existence blasted into her brain like a sledgehammer squishing a grape. Some people, facing that, might have reconciled with it and managed to move on with their imaginary lives. Some, like Catrina, might have even reveled in it. Susan, on the other hand, snapped.

“This can’t go on,” she said, staggering back. “I’ve got to end it.”

“End what?” said Catrina, who up till then had been fairly pleased with herself. Then she saw the rift, and the Swirling Vortex of Imaginary Time.  She guessed what had happened. “Now, look, Susan-“

“You’re not real either!” Susan shrieked. “None of us are! We were before, I was before, I had parties and balls and I hated them but now I find out they aren’t real either, they’re just quick sentences in a paragraph! That thing changed it! It’s responsible! It is!” She glanced frantically around, and as ill luck would have it, her eye fell on Gavrilo Princip’s pistol, which he had dropped when he was snap-kicked into the flour barrel. “I’ll end it, right now! I’ll make everyone real again! That’s my destiny, I knew it, I told you!”

Catrina knew it was probably a bad idea to open fire on the Swirling Vortex of Imaginary Time. She started towards Susan, but too late. Susan pulled the trigger, and the bullets meant for the Archduke blazed into the rift instead. There was another blinding flash.

When Catrina could see again (the thing about blinding flashes is that they do get, y’know, blinding), she found that she wasn’t in Sarajevo anymore. Instead, she was in a library. Catrina wasn’t much of a bookish person, although she had begun to appreciate the written word more, being married to an assistant librarian and all. But she couldn’t fail to be impressed by the size of the collection around her. Scroll upon scroll piled up, nearly to the ceiling, Cool marble columns towered around her, and Catrina felt a distant breeze against her face, a breeze that smelled of the sea. “Oh my,” said Catrina. “This is certainly a lovely library.”  She took a step forward, hoping to explore the palatial structure. The scrolls appeared to be entirely written in Greek and Latin, and Catrina was notoriously poor at languages. However, through an open door on her left, she saw a beautiful garden, all bubbling ponds and verdant greenery. She thought, for one second, that she might have a chance to relax.

Then there was yet another flash (she was beginning to think that she should invest in sunglasses). Susan tumbled through, screaming in fury. Unfortunately, she landed smack on an oil lamp, knocking it over onto the marble floor. Oil splashed everywhere. Susan was still waving Princip’s pistol around like a mad woman. She saw Catrina, and loosed a shot at her. Catrina frantically dove for cover. The bullet skipped past her shoulder, ricocheted off a statute, and smacked into the oil-slick floor. Sparks flew. Sparks, oil, and dry papyrus are not a good combination. Flames blossomed out, licking across the priceless scrolls and racing up the walls with their beautiful tapestries and hangings. Anguished librarians burst in, yelling in Egyptian and attempting vainly to fight the fire. Catrina put the Egyptian, and the library, and the fire, all together in a burst of realization. “Oh, blast,” she exclaimed. “We’ve just torched the Library of Alexandria!”

“Yes!” Susan exclaimed in wild delight, the fire dancing in her eyes. “Burn, baby, burn!”

This has been another exciting episode of the Catrina Chronicles. For previous episodes, go here, or visit the Catrina Chronicles tab on the home page. You can also find adventures of Catrina on my Amazon page, and I’m on Goodreads as well. I self-publish, so I have to self-market, you see. And as always, thanks for reading!

 

The Diamond Job

He waited for an hour. Finally, his patience was rewarded. The guard meandered past, laser rifle swinging lazily alongside. In a few moments, the guard had rounded the corner and was gone. Seventy-three minutes would pass before the next patrol. A lot can be accomplished in seventy-three minutes.

He emerged from the shadows and padded unhurriedly to the door. Some of his colleagues in the Corps would have rushed up and blown the thing, but that was partly why he had left. He didn’t want to defend the galaxy from alien threats. What he wanted was very simple: a small, uninhabited little planet, where he could live in undisturbed solitude and swim in a quiet pool, like any normal mutant space otter would do. Unfortunately, it required a good deal of money to buy a planet, even a little one. That was the reason he had come to the Miranda Five Academy.

It took nine minutes to crack the lock. The combination was biometrically coded, so he had gone in the old-fashioned way, by slicing through the metal casing and delicately splicing the wires inside. The door hissed open and he slipped through. He ignored the deserted classrooms. All they had were blank computer screens, scraps of paper, and the occasional lost pair of scissors, seeming out of place in this advanced age. He wasn’t interested in scissors. What he wanted was in the rear of the building.

The Academy’s museum wasn’t the best in funding or attendance, but it had a few glories nonetheless. Its prime possession was the Virgo Diamond. The diamond had arrived all the way from distant Earth. It had also been part of the laser cannon on board the Earth star-cruiser Virgo. The ship had slashed its way across space in a blaze of glorious battle before being vaporized in the Nebula Disaster of ’93. The ship’s name alone remained, attached to the diamond by faded tradition. The Virgo Diamond had seen untold adventures, but of course he didn’t care for that. He knew one predominant fact about it: a trader on Verin Prime had offered him enough money to buy two uninhabited little planets in exchange.

The diamond was not unprotected. It had lasers, force fields, and two robot sentries with firing reflexes faster than any sentient being’s. The Academy builders had spared no expense, installed every technological marvel. The whole system even ran on dedicated power cells, so that if the Academy building itself lost power, the diamond would still be protected. He had spotted, however, the one weakness. The Virgo Diamond defenses still required some power. That meant they were vulnerable to an electromagnetic pulse bomb, which he just happened to have with him. A favor, from his remaining friends in the Corps. A blue flash, and that was that. No more defenses. He didn’t even spare a glance on the dead robots as he reached for the diamond.

Then he heard a frightened squeak. He whirled. The students shouldn’t be awake at this hour. He thought he had timed their sleeping schedules perfectly. Apparently he was wrong. Little Melinda Raxenpaxerflirk stood gaping in the doorway, her tentacles quivering in alarm. “Who… who are you?”

His proton blaster was set on Level Five. A simple press of the firing pad, and that would be that. The Corps wouldn’t have hesitated. They wouldn’t have reported it, but they wouldn’t have hesitated. Yet another reason why he had left. “I’m with Maintenance. The defense system’s glitched, you see. I’m taking the diamond for safekeeping, then I’ll bring it back by morning once the system’s repaired.”

“Oh,” said Melinda Raxenpaxerflirk. She wasn’t quite old enough to understand lying. “If you’re with Maintenance, could you fix my nightlight? It’s gone out.” This was a grave concern for her, as she had been told stories by her older siblings of the terrifying humans that lurked in the shadows.

He checked. Thirty-two minutes. He had just enough time. “Sure. Why not?” He pocketed the diamond and followed her to her dorm. The nightlight took less rewiring than the security lock. Melinda, satisfied that the universe was right again, crawled into her pod and was asleep in seconds. He made it out of the Academy with eight minutes to spare, well within the buffer time he had allowed for contingencies. You never knew when you might need to aid a small squidling who was afraid of the dark.

 

Knock Knock

Stacey gasped. The unearthly shape filled her window. “Hello. My name is Melinda Raxenpaxerflirk. I’m earning my Squidling Scout Badge. Could you buy some cookies to support my dream? I accept Earth currency!”

Somehow, Stacey couldn’t say no to that hopeful gurgle.

Blog Tour!

First off, I must confess that I am very bad at these things. I was kindly invited to participate by Meg of Pigspittle, Ohio, who also writes for the Yeah Write grids. I’ve enjoyed her stories and nonfiction writings very much (for instance, this story she has going about a person with color-specific visions of the future is really brilliant).  The idea with these blog tours is that having been invited, you then are supposed to participate within a reasonable time. I, alas, am a procrastinator. I have also been working at a real grown-up job, and I’ve just come off an extremely stressful summer studying for and then taking the bar exam. I was finally preparing this post, when I realized that I had a prior invite to join a blog tour from Janna of jannatwrites. I first met her back in the Trifecta weekly challenge, where she told this wonderful and dramatic serial story involving Darlene and a thrilling murder mystery. Unfortunately, Janna’s invite came in June, right in the midst of bar study preparations, and, well….yeah. So, I apologize to both Meg and Janna for my delay in responding to the blog tour invites.  Meanwhile, to the tour itself.

The idea, it seems, is to answer several questions about your own writing, and then recommend some other bloggers whose work you enjoy.

Question 1: what am I working on?

Well, I just finished the Hadley’s Story serial, so my next pla n is to edit that and put it out in e-book form. I will then attempt to figure out the next entry in the universe of Hadley, Rain, and Constance. I’m thinking a treasure hunt. Maybe the Golden Zebu, hidden in the Temple of the Second to Last of the Fairly Average Whangdoodles? Hm. In any event, I am also preparing for NaNoWriMo 2014. I missed last year, but this year I’m going to try for a rousing adventure. I brain-stormed out the plot with a friend of mine. It’s going to involve Jason Waterfalls. As in, “Don’t go, Jason Waterfalls!”  :D

Question 2: how does my work differ from others in my genre?

That depends on what my genre is. Quirky sci-fi? Whatever genre the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is in, that’s what I’m aiming for. I don’t do serious much (though occasionally I will go for the ol’ heartstrings), I like to do comedy. Randomness. Subverting cliches. You won’t find too many stories involving a guardian angel and a kaiju in the same sequence, I’ll bet. I also have a fondness for superhero fiction, though again my style leans more towards heroes like the Tick or Mystery Men rather than, say, the grittiness of the newest Superman movie.

Question 3: Why do I write/create what I do?

Because I can’t not do it, if you’ll forgive the double negative. I’ve got to write something; the stories unfurl in my head, and they want to be told. Also, this world is, especially lately, a dark and tumultuous place. I want people to have something to laugh about. One of my delights is when someone comments and informs me that they had a spit-take reading one of my lines, or that they literally laughed out loud. The world needs more spit-takes, if you ask me.

Question 4: How does my writing/creative process work?

I don’t have an organized process, exactly. A lot of times, I work off of prompts. Yeah Write, and Trifecta before that, and the Chrysalis Experiment before that. I’ll peg off a sentence or a phrase, and then think about where that story might go. Oftentimes the scene sort of spools out in my head, and then I write it out and edit it if necessary. I also very much like serials. Once I have a good character, I roll with them, as I like to see where their story leads to, and it’s easier working with established characters.  One way my process does not work is that I can’t write, not usually, after I’ve watched a movie or television show. (Mom Power was an exception; I wrote that after watching Muppet Treasure Island). If I’ve just binge-watched a season of M*A*S*H, and then I try to write a Catrina episode, I won’t be picturing Catrina in my head, I’ll be picturing Hawkeye or Margaret “Hot Lips” Houlihan. Catrina isn’t Margaret Houlihan. She could never have dated Frank “Ferret Face” Burns, for one thing. She would’ve whacked him over the head with the Shovel of Thor in about two seconds.

Anyway. The final part of this blog tour is to recommend several blogs you enjoy.  There’s quite a few good blogs out there, but two that I particularly like are Snottingblack (who lives in San Francisco, where apparently there are bison!) and Listful Thinking, who once wrote an insightful post about the romance of potatoes.  I appreciate people who look at the world sideways, so to speak. :)

That’s all for now. Tune in next time for more adventures, as Catrina and Susan start World War One, and then travel to the Library of Alexandria! (Spoiler: there’s a fire, for which my heroine may or may not be responsible).

 

 

Attack of Dumbotron

Everything hurt. He felt as if he had just been stepped on by a giant robot elephant. This was not a random metaphor; the captain had actually just been stepped on by a giant robot elephant. Its hashtag was already trending on Twitter. Most people were referring to the thing as Dumbotron, though there was a sizable number calling for Elephantzilla. The captain didn’t much care what they called it. He just had to take it down.

He staggered upright, glass crinkling under his boots. The robot elephant had proceeded further down the street, its mighty footsteps shaking the buildings it passed. He saw a soccer ball orbiting bravely around the monster, peppering it with small laser blasts. That would be Super Soccer Mom, he knew. That soccer ball was all she had left; she had used her exploding ones in the morning’s battle. All they had to show for it was a fair-sized dent on Dumbotron’s left side. The thing still kept going. The captain had spent fully an hour whaling away at it with his super-strength, and it still kept going. How did one stop an invincible robot elephant?

At that moment, a young woman in a red uniform ran to his side. “Hey, Dad,” she said, gasping from the run, “are you okay?”

“Fine, Meg,” he assured her. “A mere robotic elephant can’t defeat the forces of justice!”

“You’re doing your superhero voice again, Dad,” Meg Atomic observed. “And it’s just me. Everyone else has been evacuated.”

“Right, of course. Can you stop this thing?”

Meg shrugged. “I could try. Atomic blasts are easy. With the size of it, though, I’d have to go thermonuclear. I don’t imagine there’d be much left of the city after that.”

“Then,” said the captain, “we’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way.”  He launched off into the air and soared off out after the elephant, his flight path only wobbling an instant. Meg saw that instant, though, and she wondered. Could the captain stand up to an all-out slugging match with the robot elephant? She would’ve thought so that morning. Now, however…. the monster had survived fifteen of her mother’s exploding soccer balls, for heaven’s sake. Even if the captain could put it down eventually, it would probably rampage across half the city by then. She had to find a way to stop it before then. Meg calculated probabilities, but every plan she devised ended badly.

In the distance, she saw her father slam into the elephant again with a mighty punch that nearly staggered it. Nearly, but not quite. It immediately let loose a shock blast from its metal trunk that sent the captain careening off into the suburbs. He would be back in moments, but in the meantime, what was she to do?  At that moment, barely audible above the din of battle, her phone chirped. “Yes, this is Meg, I’m really busy right now, so can you….. oh, hey, Andy. Yes, I had a really great time too. Sure, we could meet again. The coffee shop works. Friday at seven? Great. See you then. By the way, random question, you wouldn’t happen to have a super ability, would you?  Real-ly. Are you free right now?”

The captain came back, aiming for yet another blow straight in Dumbotron’s dented left side. Everything still hurt, and he knew he was going to ache all over the next morning. If there was a next morning. He steeled himself for impact as he barreled in. Then, suddenly, the elephant wasn’t there anymore. The captain pulled himself sharply up, narrowly avoiding a collision with a warehouse on the opposite side of the street. He looked left, and right: no elephant. He glanced up, and saw a tiny metal gleam disappearing in the sky. “What in the name of great justice?” he exclaimed.

Then he saw Meg, waving, with an unfamiliar young man standing next to her. “Dad? she said, as he landed on the street before her. “Meet Andy. Andy Whitmore. I met him last week. Nice guy. Also, he can alter the forces of gravity.”

“Captain, sir, it’s a great honor, sir,” stammered Andy.

“Mr. Whitmore,” the captain rumbled. Meg hadn’t dated before. Robot elephants were one thing. One’s atomically gifted super-daughter dating was something else entirely.

“Dad,” Meg said, rolling her eyes, “try not to use your captain voice on my dates. We talked about that.”

And so, the day was saved once again.

 

In Which Catrina and Susan Attend a Parade in Sarajevo, 1914

Last time in the Catrina Chronicles, our heroine found herself transported by the White Whale to London, 1913, where she sought employment as a lady’s maid. Unfortunately, the lady she had taken service with turned out to be someone Catrina knew very well indeed….

“Have we met?” asked Susan.

“Oh, we most certainly have,” said Catrina, her eyes flashing in sudden fury. “You-” And then she paused. Susan looked different from when Catrina had last seen her. Of course, that had been two years ago, by Catrina’s time period, and Catrina had moreover been temporarily transformed into a theremin. But still, Susan didn’t look quite as evil as she had. Her hair was more of a soft brown, as opposed to supervillain black. She was wearing a dress of pink and green, with an abundance of bows and ribbons too, and Catrina had never seen Susan wearing ribbons before. It suddenly occurred to her that she knew nothing whatever about Susan’s backstory. Surely she hadn’t always been crazy and evil. If that was the case, perhaps…

“Actually, no,” she said. “We haven’t. Sorry. I mistook you for someone else.”

“I see,” said Susan. “Well, then, I dislike putting you to work immediately, but I’m afraid I am going to need your help. I’ve been invited to an incredibly tedious ball this evening.”

“Don’t tell me you need help getting dressed for it,” Catrina said.

“Good heavens, no. I’ve told my father, Lord Blackacre, and Mr. Falken the butler that I do not require assistance putting on my own clothes. No, what I need you to do is this. I’ve got to attend the affair; it would cause a real scandal if I didn’t. Lady Hawkington would be deeply offended.” Susan rolled her eyes, as if to indicate exactly how little she really cared for Lady Hawkington’s sensibilities. “But, twenty minutes after the ball begins, what I need you to do is run in and alert me that some sort of crisis is happening. I don’t care what. Say my dog has run away. My house is on fire. Lady Blackacre has consumption. That way, I can extricate myself from the affair and no one will be the wiser.”

“Question,” Catrina ventured. “If you don’t want to go to the ball so much, why bother going at all?” Catrina herself didn’t mind the occasional dinner party or too, as long as there was plenty of blueberry cordial and rousing songs.

Susan shrugged, as she led Catrina out of the living room and began showing her around the house. “I wonder that myself. You may think this odd, but sometimes I feel as if I were destined for something greater. As if I was meant to be somewhere else. When you thought you had met me before, I thought maybe that was the beginning of…well, something anyway. Evidently not. The only interesting thing happening any time soon is that we’re taking a voyage to Europe next spring. The eastern parts, mostly, such as Greece, Constantinople, and so forth. We might also be going to Sarajevo; my father has a business correspondent there, and I thought I would like to see the city as well.”

Catrina wasn’t up to speed on modern history. Still, the idea of Susan being in Sarajevo in the spring of 1914 set off unaccountable alarm bells in the back of her mind. “Are you absolutely certain you’re going there?” she said, as they went upstairs so Susan could show her to the servant’s quarters.

“Oh, yes, it’s been planned for weeks….” Then Susan paused, and her eyes narrowed. She had caught the hesitant tone in Catrina’s voice. “Why? Is there some reason I shouldn’t go?”

Catrina had to think very rapidly. If Susan was still good now, Catrina had hoped she could stick around her until she found out whatever it was that had turned Susan to the dark side, and then stop it. She didn’t know how that might affect her time line, and the course of history, but she thought she had to try in any case. If Susan being in Sarajevo next spring was what turned her evil, then Catrina ought to keep her away from that city at all costs. But how could she do that without telling Susan the truth? How did one tell another person that they were destined to be the ruler over Character Hell and attempt to destroy reality?

“Well…” she faltered, “isn’t there some sort of political unrest over there?”

“Perhaps,” Susan said. “But there often is. I’d be well protected. I can defend myself, if necessary. Don’t tell anyone,” she stage-whispered, “but I had firing lessons from my father’s chauffeur a while back. He’s from Ireland, very obliging. So, unless there’s some sort of compelling reason why I shouldn’t go…”

Then, all at once, her eyes lit. “You do know something! There’s probably some great event happening there next spring, and you know what it is! This is about my destiny, isn’t it? That means I simply must be there! Don’t tell me what I have to do, of course. That might ruin things. But I’ll bet it’s something thrillingly heroic! Perhaps I save someone’s life? Stop a war? Prevent the world from being destroyed? It could be anything!”

Then Susan whirled upon Catrina, all aglow with excitement, and seized her by the hand. “And you must come with me, of course! It’ll be splendid! You can bear witness to history! The whole world will know my name!”

Catrina’s stomach clenched. She had not exactly meant for this to happen at all.

The next few months flew by. Catrina, as instructed, dutifully rescued Susan from multiple balls and boring dinner parties. She tried, several times, to convince Susan to stay home the next spring, but each time Susan put her off. “We’re going, and that’s that,” she said. Then she whisked off to her country estate for a game of cricket. Susan was positively killer with a cricket bat.

The spring of 1914 came at last. Catrina had accompanied Susan on the voyage to Eastern Europe. They toured Greece, and Catrina marveled at the ancient ruins. She felt more impressed even than Susan, since her own natural time period was the 12th century, and that meant she was eight hundred years closer to the ancient Greeks than Susan was. Then, as June approached, the family, with Catrina and a whole pack of other servants in tow, left Greece and decamped to the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

It was morning on the 28th. Sarajevo was bustling with people. Susan had gotten word that there was to be a parade of some royal personage through the city, and she was absolutely convinced that this was her chance. She and a reluctant Catrina had taken their places along the parade route. Then, disaster struck. Susan was most vexed. Apparently the Archduke, whom she felt she was destined to see, had gotten a bomb thrown at him, and all his plans had changed. “Blast!” Susan cried. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

Catrina felt very relieved. Had the Archduke come down her road, she felt sure Susan would have done something that would have led to her turning evil. Now, however, it looked like that wasn’t a possibility. Perhaps, merely by Susan’s befriending her, history had been averted. Feeling quite pleased with herself, Catrina decided to return the favor. “My lady,” she began,”

“Oh, please, not so formal,” Susan said, her voice still disappointed as the crowd of Serbians flowed around them. “I thought we were better friends than that.”

“Very well, Susan,” Catrina said, feeling the surrealness of the fact that she really had become friends, “perhaps we could commiserate about your destiny over lunch? There’s a lovely delicatessen just over there. I think a sandwich would be most appropriate.”

Susan sighed. “Oh, all right. If you insist. We’ll just eat our meal and then travel back to England. I suppose my destiny’s ruined anyway. It’s almost eleven o’clock now; what could possibly happen?”

Catrina, so chuffed at the turn things were taking, and the thought that she had averted a historical tragedy and kept Susan from going evil, completely missed the ominous significance in the question Susan had asked.

To be continued…

This has been another episode of the Catrina Chronicles. For previous episodes, go here. For my Amazon page where you can find adventures by Catrina and Susan and several other characters, go here. I’m also on Goodreads as well. And as always, thanks for reading.

Finale

Bunnies met marmosets in the skies of Lassiter 35, and the universe shook.

***

Jolene had been prepared for death. But when the viewscreens of the Coral lit up with screaming space marmosets tearing into the fluffy bunny horde, Jolene almost believed that she and Milroy would get out of this alive.  The next moment she wondered why the bridge had started spinning. She turned to complain to Milroy about it, but unexpectedly her legs buckled. The last thing she heard before she blacked out was Milroy on the communication system frantically calling for medical help.

***

“There,” Hadley said smugly. “Told you.”

The air around them smelled of fire. Smoke drifted down from the burning skies. Rain sniffed dismissively. “Yeah. Congratulations. You let loose the terrifying space monkeys and now they’ll stop the bunny apocalypse. Bravo.”

“For once in your life, can’t you be happy? We won! It’s over! I saved the universe, with marmosets no less!”

“Sure. But there’s always a cost. You know that. There’s-“

Rain froze. She looked up towards the sky. Through the swirling clouds of smoke, they could just see the starship Coral drifting in orbit. “Rain…” Hadley said tentatively. “What-“

“You remember your friend Jolene? The one you wished the creeping crud on?”

“She’s not my friend, I told you, she-“

“Apparently she and I have an appointment.”

Hadley didn’t get it at first. But then she remembered who Rain was. “You can’t. Not now. We’ve won, remember?”

Rain’s voice was solemn as the tolling of an old church bell. “Death comes unexpectedly. Although I don’t know why you should care.”

“All I wanted was for Jolene to get the creeping crud! I never meant-“

Suddenly Rain wasn’t quite so solemn anymore; now she turned acid. “Oh, you never meant her to get killed off. Well, that’s okay then. When I go meet Jolene and escort her to the great beyond, and I tell her that it’s your fault she’s dead, I’ll be sure to explain that it’s totally okay, because you never meant it. You only signed a deal with the devil to get her cursed. You couldn’t possibly have known it would go badly. Of course, it did, and now I have to deal with the consequences. Thanks a lot.”

Hadley saw in a flash what she had to do. “Rain,” she said, her voice tremulous, “don’t take her. Take me. I’ll volunteer for her, I’ll take her place, I will!”

“Yeah,” Rain said. “Like that really works. You think this is some story where you bravely offer to sacrifice yourself and then it all works out and nobody dies after all?”

“Isn’t it?” Hadley shot back.

Rain had meant her question to be rhetorical, to emphasize the point that death is irreversible, and impress upon Hadley the consequences of her mistake. Hadley’s response forced her to scramble for an answer. “Well…no! It isn’t!”

“Why can’t it be?”

“What?”

“I said, why can’t it be? Why can’t this end happily, with no one (including me) dying or getting eaten by bunnies or whatever?”

“Because,” Rain said, summoning all the cutting eloquence she had left, “it just can’t. There’s got to be a moral in this thing, yeah? You can’t go signing contracts with evil and then dodging the consequences!”

“Look, I’m very very sorry about all that, and I promise never to do it again,” Hadley said. “Cross my heart!”  She actually crossed it, for effect. “There. Happy?”

Rain sighed. “Fine. Everybody, including you, lives. Only this once. Not next time, mind you. Next time I’m carting everyone off and they’ll stay dead whether they want to or not.”

Hadley cheered, and then, carried away by enthusiasm, turned several mauve cartwheels. At this point an escape pod from the Coral landed, and out emerged a confused Milroy Birnbaum (god of war) and a perfectly healthy Jolene. “Someone want to explain to me what just happened?”

Rain grabbed his arm. “Later. It’s Friday, right? We had a date, right? C’mon.” They vanished before Milroy had a chance to protest.

“So…” Jolene said awkwardly to Hadley, who had just finished her cartwheels.

“Yeah. Sorry about you getting sick. That was my fault. I kinda got you cursed by the devil. But you’re fine now, right? Right! Everybody wins!”

“Wait. You did what?”

But Hadley decided that she wasn’t actually finished celebrating yet. And with that, she merrily cartwheeled off into the sunset of Lassiter 35.

 

 

For previous posts in Hadley’s Story, go here, or see the link in the sidebar on your right. Thanks for reading!

End Times

“He… lied to me.”  Hadley couldn’t quite comprehend it. She sat there on the curbstone of a deserted street in a deserted planet, her eyes wide. “He promised. And he lied.”

“Well, duh,” Rain said.  The incarnation of Death had been pacing back and forth on the sidewalk; now, eyes blazing, she rounded upon Hadley. “You were expecting what, exactly? It was a giant snake, in hell. If he wasn’t the devil, he was darn close. And you just had to go and sign a contract with him, didn’t you? Now the whole universe is going to be destroyed in fiery bunny apocalypse and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

“Nothing we can do…” Hadley repeated blankly.

“We could have stopped it,” Rain went on.  “We had a chance there. But, no, you went and signed a deal that got us kicked out of hell, and now what? We’re back here on your stupid empty planet, about as much use to anyone as a bunch of circus monkeys, and-“

“Monkeys,” Hadley said.

“Yeah. You’re familiar with them, right? They sit around, eat bananas, do tricks, and occasionally fling-“

“Marmosets,” Hadley cut in, and suddenly the sentient shade of mauve had lit up again, flaring brighter than Rain had ever seen. “The flying marmosets of Lassiter 35! Of course! Rain, you’re a genius!”

“Wait, what?”

***

The Coral hurtled through the hyperspace bypass, alarms shrilling as though the whole ship might disintegrate into streaking light any second. Jolene clung frantically to her console as stars whipped by on the viewscreen. She punched a command, and the screen shifted to a rear view. The bunnies spread across her field of vision in a blur of fluffy death. “They’ve gone to warp!” she gasped. “How did they get to warp speed?”

“Flopsian radiation,” Milroy Birnbaum said grimly. “Super unstable. They probably figured out how to control it enough for what they need to do. You don’t need stability much at the end of the world.”

“Good point. So… what’s the plan?”

“Easy. This particular hyperspace bypass isn’t completed yet. Still under construction. They’ve got a temporary exit wormhole near Lassiter 35. But being that it’s only temporary, it’s still a bit dicey. We could make it through, fine, but a whole crowd of bunnies powered by unstable Flopsian radiation? Not a chance.”

“Lassiter 35…” Jolene said. “I know that planet. I went there-”

“Summer vacation, yeah, right when the Julietian Rising broke out. You were on fighter duty.”

“And just how did you know that?”

“I’m a god, Jolene. Some omniscience comes with the territory. Like how I know that when you were flying those solo missions you were also practicing for Galactic Idol in the cockpit. You had “Phased Lines” stuck in my head for weeks. Thanks for that.”

Jolene flushed. “You tell anyone about that, and I swear…”

She didn’t have time to complete the threat. The Coral, with a last shuddering wrench, had just dropped out of hyperspace.

***

Hadley had commandeered a short-range star cruiser from her planet’s spaceport. Now she and Rain stood on a grassy plain on the surface of Lassiter 35. “I have,” Rain said, “a very bad feeling about this.”

“No sweat,” Hadley exulted. “All we have to do is release the marmosets.”

“And how do you propose doing that? I don’t see any marmosets around here, flying or otherwise.”

“They’re trapped in an inter-dimensional space pocket. Duh. So we need to release them with the Mystical Chant of Marmoset Releasing.”

Rain rolled her eyes. “And how does that go?”

Hadley closed her eyes and began impressively, “It’s based on an ancient Earth popular song. Ahem.  Oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’, oh my darrrrlin’ Clementine…”

“You have got to be kidding.”

***

Jolene sighed in relief. The Coral floated in orbit just above Lassiter 35. “Great. We’re here. The bunnies can’t follow us now, right, Milroy?”

He didn’t respond. Light bloomed in the darkness of space, and a torrent of fluffy bunnies poured out before them.

“Oops.”

“What do you mean, oops?”

“Oops, as in, I might’ve been wrong about the radiation.”

“You’re a minor deity!” Jolene exclaimed. “How can you be wrong?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Wonderful.”

***

“You are lost and gone foreeever, dreadful sorry, Clementiiiine… ”

“Hadley. That song is not going to release the-”

*SKREEEEEEE*

“….marmosets?”

You can find Hadley’s previous adventures here. Thanks for reading!

In Which Catrina Renews an Old Acquaintance

Last time in the Catrina Chronicles, our heroine, in the company of Captain Ahab, had just encountered the legendary White Whale, Moby Dick. Unfortunately, the whale turned out to be the oceanic equivalent of a Weeping Angel, and suddenly Catrina found herself in England, 1913, one year before some rather dramatic events were due to break out in Europe….

As the man she had first met ran off to get the constable, Catrina had to do some very quick thinking. She could, of course, be honest. She could tell the constable that she was a princess from the 12th century, and that she had been sent to 1913 by a malevolent whale. Catrina had enough experience with time travel, however, to realize that the constable wouldn’t necessarily believe her. In fact, she might very well be packed off to a lunatic asylum before she had time to explain about Mlrning (the Shovel of Thor!). Catrina didn’t fancy spending time in an asylum, as she felt this would put rather a damper on her efforts to get back to her own time. That meant she had to come up with a story, and she had to think of one fast.

“‘Ello, d’ you require assistance?” said the constable, who had just arrived.

“Yes, I do,” Catrina said. “I’ve, ah, just arrived from the countryside, you see, and I’m looking for a job. As a…”  she paused, trying to consider what would be the best vocation for her in this time period. “As a nanny.”

“Ah,” said the constable. “It just so happens that there’s been an advertisement in the Times. A family on Cherry Tree Lane wants a nanny for two adorable children.”

“Splendid!” said Catrina, waving the Shovel of Thor enthusiastically. “I have two children myself back at home, and this will be just the thing. I’ll bet I could take them on excursions to fox hunts and tea parties on ceilings!”

The constable wasn’t quite sure what she was going on about, but he nonetheless gave her directions to the family’s residence.  Catrina thanked him, and set off immediately. Her heart sank a little bit as she approached the house and saw a queue of respectable English nannies already formed outside the door. Catrina, having just arrived, had no references. All she had was two years’ experience of being a mother, and an exceptionally powerful Shovel. Surely the family would pick someone else.

Still, Catrina didn’t mean to give up yet. She bravely positioned herself at the end of the line and waited. Then, suddenly, the weather began to change. A wind picked up, blowing hard. “I say,” Catrina said to the nanny in  front of her, “Is this normal weather for 1913?”

The nanny was about to reply when, quite abruptly, she wasn’t there anymore. Catrina gaped, open-mouthed, as the nanny tumbled off into the sky like a piece of scrap paper. Then another nanny pitched over her head, and another, and another, and then the whole line of nannies was soaring off into the clouds. Catrina wondered if she should do something, but then all at once she found herself lifting off as well. “Oh, no, I’m not!” she declaimed, and slammed Mlrning down into the cobblestones. She clung desperately to the Shovel as the wind picked up, sweeping the nannies away into the sky beyond. Then, it suddenly occurred to her that this could be the opportunity for an adventure. Suppose the nannies were being kidnapped? Suppose this was some weather wizard, or someone with air powers, attempting to make off with Britain’s nannies as a way to take over the world? That decided her. Catrina pulled Mlrning free, swung about, and blasted off into the wind. Someone else would have to look after the children of Cherry Tree Lane; she had nannies to save.

To her great disappointment, however, the adventure was over almost as soon as it had begun. The wind deposited the nannies in a quiet courtyard near Wimpole Street. They dispersed rapidly, muttering about the unusual weather and resolving never to answer advertisements for houses on Cherry Tree Lane again. Catrina raced back to the house, but sadly, a housemaid informed her that the nanny position had been filled. “Well, I hope she does a better job than I would,” Catrina said dejectedly.

She milled about London for a while, trying to think what to do next. Perhaps she could enter service as a lady’s maid? Catrina didn’t have much maid experience either, as she’d been on the other side of the upstairs/downstairs divide, but it didn’t seem all that difficult. She’d had a few maids while she had been princess, but between traveling to different timelines, and running about her kingdom fighting Cthulhu or Atlanteans or Murphy the Terrible, she hadn’t given her chamber maids much to do. Probably she could finish her tasks in an hour or so, and then use the rest of the day to find a way back home. With that happy thought, Catrina marched to the first house she saw and rapped smartly on the door. “Hello,” she said to the butler who answered it. “My name’s Catrina. I’d like a job as a lady’s maid, please.”

The butler looked askance at the Shovel she carried over one shoulder. “Are you familiar with the, er, requirements of the position, miss?”

When Catrina indicated that she wasn’t, the butler proceeded to explain exactly what the job of being a lady’s maid entailed. As he did, Catrina became more and more astonished. “I’m sorry,” she said, interrupting the butler as he was just getting to Afternoon Tea, “what about the act of getting dressed requires help? I’ve been dressing myself since I was four. It’s not terribly complicated.”

“The Lady cannot be expected to dress herself,” the butler said importantly. “It would tire her out, when she must save her strength for her social engagements.”

“I see,” said Catrina. “The act of sitting around and talking is somehow so exhausting that one cannot even summon the strength to pull on one’s one dress or tie up one’s own boots.”

The butler appeared scandalized. “Madam, I’m afraid you would not be suitable for this position!”

“I’m beginning to think not,” Catrina said.

She was just starting to walk away when she heard a burst of laughter from inside. “No, Mr. Falken, really, I think she is perfectly suitable! You must hire her at once.”

“But, my lady, she isn’t…” the butler said nervously.

“Of course she is! I’ve been wishing someone would say what she did for years. They’ve been flinging lady’s maid candidates at me till I’m sick, haven’t they? Well, she’s the exact one I want.”

Mr. Falken sighed. “Very well, my lady. If you insist.” He turned to Catrina. “It seems, er, you have the position. If you’d still be interested?” He said this in a way indicating that he really hoped she wasn’t.

“I am, rather,” said Catrina.

The butler surrendered to the inevitable, and motioned her inside. “You’ll be provided with proper uniforms, of course, and rooms in the servant’s quarters. I suppose first you’d better meet the mistress.”

Catrina was quickly ushered into the formal sitting room. Only one person was there, the rest of the family evidently being out on errands. She was of average height, with brown hair that fell to her shoulders, and wide eyes in a roundish face. “Miss Catrina,” the butler said, “may I present the lady Susan, daughter of Lord Blackacre.”

“Susan?” gasped Catrina.

“Yes,” Susan said. “Have we met?”

 

***

This has been another exciting episode of the Catrina Chronicles. For previous episodes, go here. For other adventures with Catrina and Susan, you can visit my Amazon page, or if you’re so inclined you can find me on Goodreads as well. Thanks for reading!