Free Hugs

Thanks Helen for opening my eyes to this incredible video. Peace and Love.

168. Embrace

John’s Carain rounded the last bend under the laced canopy of mature oak, each a testament to the vision of his great grandfather who saw the majestic admirals only in the fleeting mists of prescience, a gift to future generations, a touch through time between blood destined never to break bread or share wine. With the flourish of a magician’s surprise, from the dance of shadows, stone and mortar materialized, dressed in the warm intention of Rubion and Triste, Kulmyk’s twin suns. The view, the suddenness, the stark contrast between shadow and light, between what was imagined and what was seen, rendered visitors mute.

Home, mused John. Somewhere between himself and the grand estate before his limpid eyes, was a second home, the home he carried in the ever changing currents of his pallium. That home, he thought, was forever warm and filled with love and laughter, peace and joy; that home swirled with the smells of faith and substance, of morning brews and evening sauces, rich as big hat ranchers on the edge of the open range; that home warmed his heart in the cold reaches of space, comforted his mind in the distance of time; that home, he knew, was home more often, and perhaps, he feared, more real.

Doors opened simultaneously. Caitlin smiled, and for a few fleeting seconds, John saw only the pure moment unencumbered with the burden of future moments. Her arms opened wide like a peacock spreading train and none the less stunning. Words were cast aside as unnecessary as clothes on their wedding night. Lips melted from two into one, warmth replaced absence and the simple comb of fingers through hair, pulling and grasping, spoke in a language universally understood. Lifting Caitlin off the ground, John pirouetted in step with their childlike laughter. The universe, for this moment, ceased to exist.


Categories: Story, John Discovery, Caitlin

167. Johnny Disco

Eyes blue as sacred sapphires, scintillating and coruscating with scarlet tones deep and pure as cisterns, John stood before his crimson Carain, an old and beautiful personal transport he had spent ages restoring with the minute consideration of a master horologist. Kulmyk’s morning suns, eternally spectacular in their daily duet reflected a welcomed prism of warmth off the immaculately polished surface, although others would argue, and many would agree; exhibit one in the case for obsessive perfectionism. John would not have disagreed, nor those who placed their confidence in his abilities.

The door of his pride slid open with the silent signature of a meticulous master artisan as a melodious whispery southern breeze carried a serenade of citrine chatelaines, seductive songbirds native to the western district. Not to be outdone, the glove soft leather interior, assisted with solar caresses, released a bouquet as sweet as any young bride's wedding arraignment. Easing into the warm embrace, a wave of his hand molded the seat to his hard lithe frame.

John Michael Discovery turned his mind to the drive home. His mission to the outer reaches had met success and received accolades. No one expected otherwise and John was careful to watch the backdoor of his mind, the very entrance complacency would launch a cloak and dagger attack when he least expected. Too many of his colleagues had succumbed to a domestic coup they never saw coming. He would honor their sacrifices with respectful vigilance on his own watch. Success, and in this profession of arms, survival, demanded daily tribute; ownership was a myth.

John would later say he remembers not the view of the snow capped mountains, of which his father had taught the lessons of teamwork, the necessity for unrelenting solution oriented thinking; nor would he recall the mirror smooth reflections of such on the pristine waters of Lake Serenity, on the banks of which bonds between father and son were forever carved within the soft inner core of his filial heart. His Carain traveled the route home on auto command, the trip more a function of time than distance. Time, John reflected, seemed to define his relationships; and time was not always the ally he had hoped, and at times, begged it to be.

The mission to destroy the Arc’teryxian vessel had consumed six weeks of this life; yet duty remained ravenous, insatiate as a newborn. As the mother dutifully and lovingly responds to the needs of her baby, so too John felt the mother to his calling, the cries of which grew with each success. A victim of my own success he thought. What would dad say?

John had promised Caitlin they would have time, this time, between missions. As pure as her name suggested, and as sincere as he had made the promise, he knew the river of events had taken an unexpected turn and her hopes would be dashed like a diminutive birthday girl all dressed in hat and gown, balloons and cake patiently waiting in place, pending the arrival of her friends, which with each passing moment she came to realize was never going to happen. The icing on the cake would begin to harden its heart and the balloons would lose their enthusiasm to soar and the little girl would put on a brave face and tell her mom she understood that sometimes things happen and it would be okay.

John knew, when he broke the news, Caitlin’s eyes would water without bursting, her shoulders would drop but only for a second and then she would stand tall, put on her brave face and tell him she understood. As battle hardened a warrior as he was, as intrepid a neuro-surgeon who had held life and death in his hands, he feared most of all, the dagger those few words would inflict on his heart. “It will be okay,” she would say with a smile born of impeccable breeding, of a long line of women who understood sacrifice. “We have tonight,” she would add. “And I won’t allow an unpromised tomorrow to stand between our happiness this evening.” And then she would wrap her arms around him and he would wonder who really was the strongest and brightest and wisest and bravest of the two. And he would conclude it was not him.

“Johnny Disco,” asked his Carain’s computer, a name his mates had given him in fighter pilot school after an unforgettable night on leave in a long forgotten port city—and like most nicknames, it stuck, “should I alert Caitlin of our arrival?”

With a slight smile, which the name Johnny Disco always brought to his eyes, and a heavy sigh, John replied, “Yes, let her know we’re here.”

Categories: Story, John Discovery, Caitlin

Notbean Joins Andrax as Mate #142!

Please help me give a very warm welcome to Bean, or is it Notbean, I'm never quite sure. She hails from Australia with her two dogs Whacky Tail and Wiggle Bottom and her special little boy, Rotnik the cat. If you haven't visited her blog, you are in for a treat. Bean's talent with the pen must be experienced to be understood.

When asked if she had done anything fun, she responds with this dreamy answer: Fed stray cats in the ruins of Delphi, Greece. Camped out in the Western desert, Egypt. Swam with sting-rays and turtles in Peurto Angel, Mexico. Sipped mai tais on the Chao Praya, Bangkok, Thailand. Relaxed naked in a hot spring overlooking the forest in Central Japan. Watched deer drinking from a stream in the Rockies, BC Canada. Fished off basalt cliffs in Taranaki, New Zealand. Slept on the beach in San Diego, US. And so much more in my home country, the wide-brown land.

Bean, welcome to the team. You will find this group one of the more caring and compassion collection of individuals in the entire frailing universe. I can't tell you how excited I am to have you onboard this fantabulous international team of cancer fighting comrades.

166. Home, Blu

Kyra’s trembling hands accepted the package, grasping the slender metal folio with both hands for fear the turbulent winds whipping off the bay would snatch Papa’s gift for itself. Through eyes blurred with tears, she kissed Papa goodbye; his strong arms pulling her tightly into his broad chest with such might she feared his embrace would crush the unknown treasure in her hands. He barked a few words over the cacophony and wiped the tears from her cheeks before she turned and quickly boarded the waiting vessel.

Zeke leaned his cloaked resolute frame into Bravo’s hot bluish-white blast, the steel-plated deck beneath his feet rattling like an old wooden rollercoaster, the metal handrail transferring a final blessed kiss of warmth to his aged and leathery palms. Defiant and proud, he shunned the standard bulky blast goggles, paying for his unadulterated view with eyes that burned and teared with a scene he never dreamed would shimmer before them. He had seen plenty of mirages in his travels across the sands of Silus; but this was not Silus and that vessel was no mirage. She was leaving. She wasn’t coming back. Quick as lightning with a thunderous cracking report to match, the vessel disappeared into the roiling dark grey clouds taking its warmth and heat as quickly as it had taken his love.

“Master Zeke, are we going home now?” asked Blu, who was, for all intents and purposes, Goldie’s mechanical brother.

“Yes Blu, we’re going home.”

“And Miss Kyra, should we wait for her?”

“No Blu. She’s not coming with us.”

“Oh.”

“On second thought Blu, let’s head to Valla. I don’t much feel like being alone at home tonight.”

“But Master Zeke, you always have me.”

“Yes Blu, I do. I always have you.”

“Should I alert Miss Kyra as to our destination?”

“That won’t be necessary. Miss Kyra won’t be coming back.”

“Oh. And Goldie?”

“Blu, I’m afraid we will never see either of them again. When we get to Valla, would you fix me some snizzle?”

“Yes Master Zeke.”

“And perhaps, just this once Blu, add a drachm of snoot.”

Immeadiately upon arriving at Valla, Zeke entered his study overlooking the cove and begin to write:

I look back on the general unfairness of life, and I wonder where this idea, that everything would even out, wrongs righted, hard work rewarded, I wondered who planted this idea so deeply in the fertile soil of my adolescent mind. If I could find them today, I would beat them to within an inch of their life; an inch with asinine precision, with cold calculation, with malice born of infected rusty oozing bitterness.

“Master Zeke, your snizzle, just as you requested.”

“Thank you Blu.”

“Will there be anything else?”

“Shut down all communications and secure the compound. I need some time alone.”

Categories: Story, Kyra, Papa, Zeke, Hyneria, Blu

165. Let Go

Calfuray smiled. Her legs straddled Von’s waist pinning his back to the damp ground, the tip of her dagger trembling an inch from his heart. She could feel his strength weakening, his hands and arms straining with the last gasp effort of desperation. He had been a worthy adversary, but there were more prey to hunt. Leaning forward, her weight shifted the balance.

“Concentrate Von,” said Zeke, standing to the right of the chair, his hands folded behind his back such that his head appeared to float above his ubiquitous white tunic. His stance gave the contradictory appearance of solidity and fluidness. “The fire can only touch an unfocused mind, a mind deluded in darkness,” repeated Zeke.

Von was nothing if not determined. Sweat rolled down his long angular face, carried away by the creases of age worn by time under his eyes and along his high cheeks. The chair hummed lightly as bolts of fire moved closer. His hands, strong and agile, struggled to articulate the controls, which oddly felt heavy and sluggish. The fire intensified and the rate of rotation increased. The orange and yellow flashes blurred as if forming a solid wall of fire.

“Darkness seeks darkness. Neither resist nor engage. Seek the light Von. Close your eyes. The light you seek cannot be seen, it must be felt. Search your heart my friend. There you will find the light. And stop trying so hard—effort is always the sign of the wrong path. You cannot swim against the tide. Let go and follow the light.”

Damn the platitudes thought Von. Why did everything have to sound like a cheap postcard? Light my arse. The only light I see is the damn fire from this Janus forsaken contraption.

The chair slowed and the fire subsided. “That’s enough for today,” said Zeke. “Until you are ready to concentrate, to allow yourself to believe, to trust the flow to take you to higher ground, well, until that time, we are just wasting our time.”

“I don’t see the point of this exercise Zeke. What is a chair bound in this blasted fire going to teach me?”

“At this point in your life—nothing. Grab your stuff. We’re done here.”

“Zeke.”

“I thought you might be ready. I was wrong.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” offered Von.

“No disappointment Von. What is, is. I fully accept the reality. Otherwise, I would be as lost as you. Now cheer up. You might be confused, but I know exactly where we are; and just as important, where we need to go.”

“Would you like to share that information with me?”

“Von, don’t take this the wrong way, but you have not experienced enough pain in your life. There are two keys to the door of light. One is Love and the other is Pain. You are not ready for Love, but pain is definitely an option. If you want to graduate into the special Blue Onyx division, it will be through the fires of pain. The option is yours. You can let me know in the morning.”

“Let go my friend. I promise my dagger is sharp, its poison swift and my aim true. You will feel no pain. Close your eyes. Stop resisting. Sweet slumber awaits,” said Calfuray, the purple slits of her eyes growing wide and narrow.

Von let go. Like a boulder he had been carrying uphill, his resistance tumbled away and he felt an incredible sense of lightness. Calfuray never saw it coming. Those that were there said night turned to day for one brief moment and, as if nature had bowed its head, silence reigned.

“Von, do you read me?” asked Kyra.

“Von, are you okay? Von?”

Von stood, scratching the itch on his head. Pain my arse he thought. I'd still kick Zeke's butt if he were here. “Kyra, I hear you loud and clear. I’m feeling a little warm but otherwise I think I’ll live. Be there in a sec.”

Categories: Story, Von, Calfuray, Zeke, Kyra

164. The Fourth Morn

And on the forth morn of the fifth equinox a confrontation of the likes not seen since Dauculus waged in the sky and on the ground. Calfuray had never encountered a Zing Tao. Von had never encountered an assassin the like of Calfuray.

May it be said, may it be written. Fire and water, earth and wind stood aside. Time became wide. Space heated. Rog stirred, Em cried, Shen froze and The Voice smiled.

Categories: Story, Von, Calfuray

163. Letters

Em walked across her quarters and stood in front of her window. Like all the other quarters on Bravo, the entire forward wall of her main living area was a window to the universe. Em soaked in the magnificent view and took a deep breath, her chest rising with the slow sure steadiness of the morning sun. Standing in front of the window was as close to standing on the bow of her father’s ship as she could get. The resounding smack of the bow embracing each wave remained ever present in her mind's ear. Only the fresh cool salty sea spray kissing her face and the warm southern breeze teasing her hair were lacking.

One other thing was missing. Like the memory of her first kiss, Sam had joyfully followed her everywhere onboard her father's ship. The memory of him sticking his nose in the air over the bow with the wind blowing his hair back behind his ears always brought a smile to her face. All he needed was a scarf and goggles and she was sure he would have taken flight. He seemed to enjoy sailing the Nusian seas as much as she did. She missed his soft fur rubbing against her tanned leg, the wagging of his tongue and the joy and happiness he brought with his unconditional love. Sam was about the best pampus a girl could ever want. He would have liked the view on Bravo. If only she could see his tail wagging with enthusiasm one more time.

Em had placed her desk just a few feet in front of her massive view of the cosmos. Moving around the backside, she pulled out the silver aeron chair and settled into the supple leather seat, her elbows on the desk, her hands under her chin. The deafening silence in her quarters, of space travel in general, seemed to taunt her, a stark ever-present reminder she was not on the sea, not home. With an unconscious sigh a measure of tension escaped into the stillness. She opened the top drawer and pulled out a single sheet of paper and began to write.

Dear Father,

I’m sorry it has been a few days since my last correspondence. So much has happened in the last week I hardly know where to start. Rog has been terribly injured in a confrontation with our captives. We are fearful his wounds may be fatal. Trev has done everything he can, but we need outside help. Mairi has been abducted and Kyra and Von have left in the Pod to find her. Yul is beside herself. You know how she hates being helpless. Trev seems rather depressed. We are all under a great deal of stress. If only you were here, I know I would find the comfort I seek.

I know I say it all the time, but I miss you terribly. Please tell Sam I miss him too. Every time I stand in front of my window I feel as if I’m transported to the ship and I would be lying if I didn’t say my heart sinks just a little lower knowing with each passing day we move further and further apart. Soon, I hope, we will find a place to settle. And then father, you and Sam can come and join us. Just you wait and see the welcome party I have planned for you two. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of time to prepare every minute detail. I’d tell you more, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise.

I’d better get some rest now. You know how Pinky gets if I stay up too late. Besides, with all that is going on, I want to be ready if they need me. I love you father and I think of you every day. Give Sam a rub for me and make sure you take him with you to the bow. He so loves to stick his nose in the breeze.

Love,

Em

As she did most nights, Em folded the paper in precise thirds, just like father had taught. She no longer needed to measure. She slid the letter into its envelope, turned it around and sealed it with a kiss. Flipping it over, she laid the letter on her desk and gently pressed it down, running her fingers from left to right with firm pressure. Her letters were sealed like the bunks on her father’s ship; one could bounce quarters off them.

Reaching again for her pen, Em addressed the letter and in the upper corner where postage would normally go, she wrote the number 163. She hesitated just for a moment, her eyes scanning the missive, weighing it in her hands as if somehow she could mentally imbue the correspondence with the essence of her love. Kissing the letter, she opened the left hand drawer and placed the letter neatly behind number 162. Each letter stood silently at attention, all in proper order, all waiting patiently like stone soldier on station, waiting for their call to action.


Categories: Story, Emy, Letters, Bravo

162. Calfuray

“Shen, it appears we have visitors,” said The Voice. Your little project continues to irritate the hellocks out of my dry skin. Do you know what it is like to have an itch but no means to scratch it?”

“No my lord,” replied Shen.

"Fail me on this mission and I will personally make sure you have the opportunity. Is that clear?”

“Yes my lord.”

“Give the assignment to Calfuray. She has my confidence. And Shen? I expect to hear no more of this. Is that understood?”

“Yes my lord.”

Categories: Story, The Voice, Shen, Calfuray

161. Fire of Truth

"Von, you knew Papa when he was a young hynerian. What was he like?" asked Kyra.

"He was unlike any hynerian I ever knew, one of a kind. His exploits on Zael were legendary," said Von.

"I know, heard the story a thousand times," laughed Kyra.

"As great as Ji was, he knew he needed a native to take the Tao to another level, and there was no one, and I mean absolutely no one, that could have done what Zeke, your Papa, did for the order. Did he ever tell you about the Fire of Truth?"

"Never heard of it Von."

"Ahh, well, it is all you need to know about Zeke. In the days after Ji handed him the reigns . . ."

"Sorry to interrupt your story Von," interjected Snazzle, "but I think you might want to look at this transmission I've just picked up from the target area."

Catagories: Story, Von, Kyra, Zeke, Ji, Snazzle

160. Dr. Goldenhair Surprise

Mairi watched Dr. X escort Taren to the exit; his long golden locks seemed to glow against the backdrop of Taren’s dark blue skin. Her mind felt slippery, her hands bound roughly behind her back, her waist and ankles secured firmly to the vertical slab. The material was cold and unknown.

They appeared to exchange heated words. Taren’s face became animated; his alien tongue spoke in agitated tones, quick and erratic movements of his long arms orchestrating each syllable. The doctor appeared rather bored. With a dismissive wave of his hand, Taren left. Mairi heard the door shut; a shill metallic click of the lock sending a chill up her spine like nails on a chalkboard. He placed the keys in his pocket and turned toward the beautiful, mysterious Null. Just the two of them now.

“Good morning Mairi,” said Dr. X, slowly running the backside of his nails along her chin and up the side of her jaw stopping near her right temple. Mairi turned her head, her neck muscles straining in silent protest. His nails felt glass smooth and warm against her skin; his breath smelled of honeysuckle. “The less you resist, the less pain you will endure,” said Dr. X, letting his hands linger on the strange tactile feel of her skin, his eyes slightly ablaze with anticipation. “I’m not here to hurt you Mairi.”

Mairi pushed herself back against the slab. Even her eyes rolled down, wishing they had legs and could run. “Do you know why you are here child?”

Mairi shook her head, unable or unwilling to speak, she wasn’t sure.

“You are the elusive Null our scientists have been searching for, for years no less without success. Many in the community questioned whether such an entity existed. Imagine our surprise and excitement when your vessel mysteriously appeared in our sector. Still, many have their doubts, and many would have me burn you at the stake, such is the fear at the potential power you have within that red head of yours. Always a fear of the unknown, such a pity really; yet, here we are, just me and you,” whispered Dr. X, inhaling the fear radiating from the surface of her skin. Such a sweet delicious smell he thought.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” said Mairi, her voice cracking with the absurdity of his claim. “You know my friends would be very interested to know that I possess such power. I’m sure they would tremble in fear once they picked themselves off the floor from laughter. I don’t mean to rain on your parade, but I think you’ve got the wrong girl.”

Dr. X smiled. “Perhaps you are correct. Duty, however, dictates that I must be absolutely certain. Your head is not the only one at stake.”

“Do what you will, there is nothing to find,” said Mairi, regretting her choice of words almost before they were uttered.

“Well, my dear, that's the plan. Glad to hear we are in agreement,” his hands moving to the buttons on her blouse.

“What the frail do you think you are doing,” yelled Mairi, squirming against the ropes that bound her.

“Yell if you must, but I have to tell you this room is sound proof, not that there is anyone who would come to the aid of your plaintive wailing. Relax, I promised I’m not here to hurt you,” said Dr. X as his golden fingers unbuttoned the remaining enclosures. With one quick movement he ripped the blouse from her shoulders. Mairi’s eyes grew wide with the sudden violence of the movement as if she had been slapped back into the reality of her utter vulnerability.

Dr. X placed a knife against her chest. The blade was cold, polished chrome shinny and looked much larger than it actually was. My Janus, thought Mairi as she closed her eyes, have mercy. “Quiet child,” commanded Dr. X, the blade flashing quickly, her bra cut in two. “Buck up, I’m just looking.”

Mairi fought. The ropes pulled tighter, cutting into her skin. A drop of blood splattered on the floor. Dr. X stood back, his eyes marveling at the strange anatomy of the alien before him. These orbs, flesh colored at the base, muted into shades of blue at the tips, which seemed to have a slight sheen, perhaps a light glow to them. His curiosity got the best of him. Reaching out, his hands traced the outside of those soft yet firm melon-shaped appendages.

Mairi bit her lip, the pain of her hands temporary forgotten. Her eyelips slammed shut as if they alone could wipe the present moment from existence.

His fingers were warm and gentle. My Janus, she thought, is my body going to betray me, confused with her inability to stop the bluish pulsing of her chest. Her nipples hardened and grew more luminous, vestiges of Hynerian evolution.

Pinching her nipples, watching them grow harder, watching them throb, his mind was locked on hers and there it was, the opening. BAM!

+Hi Mairi, can you hear me?+

Stunned for just a second, she responded, +Yes.+

Catagories: Story, Mairi, Dr. X

159. Feeling Blue

“Yul,” said Trev, searching for the right words, “I can’t begin to imagine I understand how you feel.”

Yul’s eyes widened and she stood as if frozen. Her look turned the room frigid causing Trev’s words to tumble forth with the grace of calving icebergs. His ears burned with the echo of regret. She sighed. He hung his head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything,” said Trev, his eyes locked on the floor as he turned to leave.

“Hey, Trev,” called Yul. “I know you mean well and I’m sorry to take my frustration out on you. I know you’ve done everything you can. I’m just irritated. That’s all. Feel helpless.”

Trev looked up, his cheeks forming a smile his eyes could not match. “Been a long day. I wish I could do more, that I could--”

“Hellocks,” said Yul, “been a long week. Let it go. So what do we do?”

“Find a liquid cure,” suggested Trev, a little surprised he let that slip. Not exactly the answer to inspire the confidence he craved.

“The hynerian who doesn’t drink snizzle?” teased Yul, raising her eyebrows in mock surprise.

“Yeah, well, I never said I didn’t enjoy a little snoot. About the only way I made it through medical school. Ever heard of Blue Snoot?”

Three hours later . . .

“Hey flashboy, take my picture,” purred Yul, her blue tongue sliding smoothly over her warm honeyed lips, the tip, spearlike, glistening in the soft bluish starlight. Bending over, her impeccably manicured fingers seductively released another silver horned button from her venusian leather vest. Her eyes, wet with lust, locked on his. “How do you like me now,” said Yul, arching her back and spanking her own tight and taut round venusian clad rear, an impish grin on her face.

Trev felt lightheaded as the oxygen rich blood in his head departed south; he sat in hopes of concealing their eager relocation. He wasn’t sure which was more intoxicating—Yul, the snoot or his own wicked imagination. Such incredible symmetry he thought, unable to take his eyes off the perfectly formed arch of Yul’s back. And how was it possible he wondered that those leather tights fit like a second skin, his mind swimming in the pure lust of a simple curve.

Yul looked up at Trev, “You’re holding back the candy like a one-year old. Did you come," she paused in the luxury of her tease, "to look or have you got something to show me,” said Yul, falling to the floor before Trev. Placing her hands on his knees, her nails traced small circles before slowly spreading his legs. His legs trembled but otherwise offered no resistance.

Trev didn’t notice his legs shaking. He was occupied elsewhere as Yul ran her nails up the side of his thighs. Yul was unrelenting. She moved closer as her nails moved up Trev’s chest. Bending over to kiss his forehead, her cleavage resting just below his chin, her hair cascaded around his head like a peep-show curtain. "Oh my, you do taste sweet," said Yul, her own eyes half closed as her legs wrapped around Trev's hips. Why was it, she mused, forbidden fruit always seemed to taste so damn good.

Trev froze. His hands awkwardly still on the side of the chair, his body charged with lust, his mind stuck, unable to move. Yul flicked her tongue against his cheek, moving her warm wet lips to his left ear. Gently sucking his young, warm, tender lobe, she smiled as she felt his chest nervously expand. Biting his lobe while pinching his nipples she whispered, “You know, hon, if I didn’t love Rog, I would frail you right here, right now, like you've never been frailed before. Probably do us both some good. Janus knows it wouldn’t take much.”

Trev’s eyes glazed over as only young girls who still believe in love do. Yul molded her body into his, a little something to remember she thought, a little something to help perhaps, or maybe just because it felt good. “Sweet dreams darlin’, said Yul with a wink as she stood before leaving.

Trev sat stunned. His mind lost in what just happened when he realized he could move his hands again. Wouldn’t be the first time, or the last, he thought, grabbing a towel and heading to bed.

Music recommendations for this chapter: When Will I See You Again--The Three Degrees :-D For a slightly different flavor try this one with Chris Isaak's Changed Your Mind.

Categories: Story, Yul, Trev

158. Ninker

“Rog. Wake up. Rog! Do you hear me son. Get your arse out of bed. Those lamkurs are not going to milk themselves.” To know Rog’s father was to know Rog. Honest as the day was long with a vocabulary colorful enough to match the brilliant sunsets that graced the ranch. He was the kind of hynerian who did business with a handshake. His word, like his heart, was pure gold.

Rog kicked the bunk above his head. “Chaz, cover for me this morning. I did something to my arm last night and I don’t want to have to explain to the old man what happened.” Chaz didn’t budge.

Rog kicked the bunk again. “Hey ninker, let me put it this way, milk the lamkurs for me this morning and I’ll make it worth your while, maybe even let you pilot the hopper in the canyons tonight.”

Chaz leaned down from the top bunk. “Ninker?” You want me to cover your, how did dad say it, arse, and you call me a ninker. What did you do to your arm anyway?”

“None of your business,” said Rog, a bit irritated with the lip from his little bro. “Of course, if you don’t want to take my shift there is always plan B.”

Chaz laughed. “Plan B? And what pray tell is plan B?”

“I jump up there and kick your arse with my one good arm, ninker.”

“Hey, crip, talk don’t cook rice. Give me the code for the hopper and I’ll consider your predicament. You know, I do have a certain sympathy for your situation, being hurt and all,” said Chaz in his most patronizing tone. It wasn’t often he had the upper hand with his brother and, no pun intended, he was going to milk this was all it was worth.

“Whoa, no code bro. I promised you a chance to pilot, but you ain’t gettin the code.”

“No code, no shift,” shot back Chaz.

Rog jumped out of the lower bunk, grabbed Chaz with his one good arm and pulled him to the floor. “Sombeech,” wailed Rog as Chaz landed on his injured arm. “Get the frail off my arm.”

“Code first,” said Chaz, not budging.

Rog reared back and popped the shiott out of his little brother. “Damn it Chaz, look what you made me do,” said Rog as he realized now he was going to have to explain why his brother had a bloody nose.

“Me? You throw me to the floor and punch me in the face and I made you do it,” said Chaz, more pissed than hurt although he was playing up the blood for all he could. Blood always did create a little drama.

Rog didn’t respond, which was not like him. “Rog, hey, you alright?”

“I think this arm is in worse shape than I thought. Here’s the deal. You go milk the lamkurs. Come back here, I give you the code and you take me out to old doc’s place. Deal?”

Chaz locked eyes with Rog and weighed the change in tone in his voice. They weren’t playing anymore. “Look me in the eye and give me your word.”

“You have my word,” said Rog. “Now get out to the barn before the old man comes looking for me again. And make it quick, this arm is killing me.”

“Trev, he’s in pain. Is there anything more you can do?” asked Yul.

“If I shoot him up anymore, we risk killing him,” said Trev.

“I’m comming Kyra, he needs help now.”

“Yul.”

“What?”

“Von and Kyra are operating in stealth mode. No communications in, none out," said Trev.

“You’re shiotting me,” snapped Yul, realizing there was nothing to do but wait. "Frail me!"

Categories: Story, Rog, Chaz, Yul, Trev

157. Me and You

“Yul, Rog is awake and he’s asking for you,” said Trev.

“On my way,” responded Yul.

I go nowhere high
Go nowhere warm
Until I see your smile and feel your calm
And I lick a dime
I crave for you boy
You’re like a parachute descending from the sky

Running down the corridor, Yul flung open the lab door nearly knocking Trev down in her rush to see Rog. Still lying in bed, his eyes looked sleepy and somewhat dull from the pain meds. She was stunned by just how quickly his body seemed to be deteriorating. Skin once tight and firm and hard now appeared loose and baggy, accentuating the wrinkles formed from his ever present smile into folds of valleys. His arms, once like bulging pythons had been transformed into withering twigs barely capable of lifting their own weight. He hardly looked like the same hynerian.

And I’m sure you’re on your way
Yes I’m sure you’re on the road

“I’m here Rog,” whispered Yul with a tenderness born of fear that even words could do him harm if spoken too loudly.

Rog looked at Yul without moving his face, his eyes slowly rotating in their sockets as if it took every last ounce of energy just to maneuver them. Then he smiled causing the folds of skin on his cheeks to pull tight like a tent being stretched. She had promised herself she would be strong but the power of his smile unleashed a torrent of tears washing away the last of her resolve.

I go nowhere high
Go nowhere warm
Until you’re by my side
Your hand in mine
And I’ve always known
You’re like a feather
You go where wind and fire melt together

“Hold my hand Yul,” said Rog, his eyes working hard to stay focused on her face. “You know, I am a very lucky hynerian, very, very lucky my dear.”

“How is that Rog,” said Yul with a slight sniffle, no longer caring that she couldn’t control the flow of tears.

“Because I have you and I have come to realize there is nothing more in the universe I need, nothing more I want than to know that you are here for me, now and forever.”

Yul melted. Rog became blurry in her eyes as she gripped his hands as only lovers on the edge can do. “I love you Rog and we will pull through this, together, me and you.”

“Yes, me and you, together,” said Rog, his voice barely audible, his smile starting to fade. “I’m feeling tired Yul. I think I’m going to sleep now.”

Yul gritted her teeth and nodded her head. “Okay baby. Okay.”

And I’m sure you’re on your way
Yes I’m sure you’re on the road
And I’m sure you’re faster than before
Yes I know you’re somewhere on the road
I reckon there is nothing more to say


Music for this chapter courtesy of Kate Havnevik’s Nowhere Warm on the Melankton album. Rog developed a taste for Norwegian music back on earth. There will be a quiz later on this subject.

Categories: Story, Yul, Rog, Trev

156. Coming Home

Coming out of hyper-space, the kaleidoscope of exploding color, the rush of adrenalin and the warm surge of satisfaction from a mission accomplished never got old. Besides, home was home and there were loved ones to see, to hold, to hug, to kiss, to love. Long-range missions were hard on everyone, but what had to be done, had to be done.

After-Action-Report: (Red Leader)

Arc’teryxian vessel destroyed. Two pods jettisoned on-world. Three life forms—one unidentifiable. Suggest immediate full investigation.


“Welcome home Red Leader. You have been missed. Now go home and tell your wife how much you love her because you leave in the morning.”

“Yes sir.”

Categories: Story, John Discovery

155. Unbound

This chapter is best when playing Robbie Robertson’s Unbound as you let the prose saturate your imagination.

With eyes of fire
No one can see

Scene starts with Mairi, hands bound behind her back walking down the corridor with Taren, a foot taller, somberly behind her. Mairi’s head is hanging down, her eyes on the floor, her face blank and unreadable. Their pace is deliberate. The soundtrack plays over ambient noise in the scene. Their footsteps are silent. Camera plays at three-fourths speed giving the subtle impression of mood. Mairi lifts her head, eyes fixed straight ahead. She releases the burden of resistance. Unbound.

I am lost
I am lost
Has anybody seen me
I am lost

Camera cuts away to Von and Kyra walking toward the Pod, both dressed in all black long coats, fully armed. The two silhouetted figures walk toward the lighted ramp, postures erect with resolve. Doubt released. Unbound.

Oh nothing is forgotten
Only left behind
Wherever I am
She leads me down
Unbound

Camera then pans to the interior of Bravo. Yul is walking from the lab to the chapel. Her face, like Mairi’s is blank and sober. Her eyes glassy, reflecting the soft light in the corridor. Reaching the chapel, she sees a warm red glow and a figure standing next to the votive candles. Emy turns her head in silence, watching Yul enter the chapel and walk beside her. Yul looks at Em and then slowly looks back at the candles. No words are spoken between the two. Camera moves to a close up of the candle’s reflection in Yul’s eye and then fades to black just as the soundtrack comes to an end. Unbound.

No borders
No fences
No walls
No borders
No fences
Unbound

Oh, listen for the night chant
Oh, listen for the night chant

Like a moth to flame
She leads me down
Unbound

Categories: Story, Kyra, Von, Yul, Emy, Taren, Mairi

154. Unknown

Mairi sat in the dark room, her knees pulled into her chest, her back pressed into the corner and her eyes fixed on the small ray of light outlining the door. The room was cold.

“What is that Von?” asked Kyra.

“Schematics,” replied Von, not taking his eyes off the glowing data slate. “Fascinating really.”

“Care to explain?” responded Kyra, half amused, half annoyed with Von’s self absorption.

“No other place on the planet has multi-tiered defenses in place like this alcove. This is where we will find Mairi,” said Von, smiling like a child who knows the answer, his arm waving in the air.

The room was also quiet; the kind of quiet that really wasn’t quiet at all. The smallest sound seemed magnified. No matter how hard she tried, her own breathing echoed, or so it seemed. Her heart sounded as if it had moved from her chest to her head and each beat morphed into the footsteps she knew, sooner or later, would be coming for her.

Kyra couldn’t help but reflect back Von’s smile. “So, I take it you have a plan to get past the security, whisk Mairi away, and slip back to Bravo without losing our hides?”

“Oh no, not at all,” replied Von, looking now like the boy who had misheard the question and realized he didn’t know the answer after all.

Not knowing. That was the hardest part. What were these aliens, and aliens they were, going to do, what were they capable of doing? If they were Javalinas, she would know, just as Von knew. She could prepare for the neural trace. But Arc’teryxians were unknown. No history, no knowledge, a complete blank slate. And they wanted what she had, whatever that was. My Janus, she thought. Is there anything I do know?

“What? You’re kidding,” said Kyra.

“Nope, not a clue,” said Von.

“What was that smile about then?”

“The challenge of facing the unknown. Didn’t your Papa ever teach you about the unknown? This is what separates those who ascent to the Zing Tao from those forever destined to serve as Blue Oynx. The unknown Kyra. This is what we live for, this is our calling, this is our time. What’s not to smile about?” said Von holding his arms out wide as if his whole body smiled.

Footsteps tell their own story. Fast or slow, heavy or light, loud or soft. For every step there was a stepper. For every step there was intent and purpose, someone with a mission, someone with orders, someone who knew. The steps were faint but unmistakable. Steady like a spring rain, each one slightly louder than the one before. Would they walk pass or would the rhythm change, would they stop with the click of a heel, the sound of purpose lifting a hand to the door?

“Von, Papa didn’t teach me everything but he did teach me when to lead and when to get out of the way. This mission is in your hands. Let’s go.” said Kyra.

The door opened. Light stabbed into the darkness like daggers into Mairi’s heart. “Mairi,” said Taren. "It's time. Let’s go.”

Categories: Story, Kyra, Mairi, Von, Taren

153. Sentinel

Kyra stood before the window, her eyes drawn to the still image of Yul standing beside Rog. The view seemed odd in that neither Rog nor Yul were moving. He, in bed, eyes closed, still unconscious. She, standing ramrod straight, looking much like a lone sentinel, on guard, protecting him. She held his hand in hers. If one looked closely, there was an ever so slight movement, the only movement in the room. As if performing some secret spell, Yul slowly rubbed her thumb in circles on his palm. Yul was facing away from the window, her back to Kyra but the tilt of her head indicated that Yul’s eyes were watching Rog’s face and that each rotation of her thumb, the soft pressure of her subtle skin against his tanned and leathery palm, sought to transfer warmth and healing as if the friction between them would and could spark the fire of life to come back into his face. Her eyes would not wavier, would not take the chance that she might miss the first slight flutter of his eyelids, the first signal he was waking up. And so she stood. Ramrod straight; only her thumb and her thoughts in motion. From outside the window, the view might just as well been two mannequins in a store window.

Categories: Story, Kyra, Yul, Rog

152. The Voice

“Come in. Sit,” said the voice. “Raise your eyes, both of you and look at me. Tell me what you see.”

Shen and Taren sat in cold silence. Nostrils involuntarily flared with each in breath as if preparing to absorb a blow.

“Give me one good reason I should not have you both summarily executed.”

Shen started to speak.

“Shut the frail up Shen. There are no words to succor your failings. Do you have any idea? Any? Shen?

“All is not lost. We have the girl,” offered Shen.

The voice hovered as if chewing Shen's words like cud, digesting each syllable in preparation to shat the refuse back forth from whence it came.

“Yes, you have the elusive null. Quite a coup for your research wouldn’t you say?” said the voice in slow even tones making nuance impossible to read.

“Once in a life—“

“Shen,” interrupted the voice, “speak again and I’ll have your head on the floor before the echo of your vapid vision soils one more precious moment of my time. I want you to look close. Look at me Shen. Come closer.”

Shen stood slowly and walked toward the voice. Taren watched as men on death row watch others take the walk. A small drop of perspiration ran down his face. Shen’s footsteps echoed in the small room, sounding louder than usual.

“I want you see Kulmyk handiwork up close. Please, hold out your hand. The eyes alone do not do justice to their craftsmanship with a blade.”

Shen ran his hand over the lump of flesh that spoke. As an experienced interrogator Shen had seen the worst of physical torture; yet, still, it took all of his estimable mental abilities to quell the disturbance in his stomach.

Are you married Shen?”

“Yes.”

“Does your wife love you Shen? Does she make love to you?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think she would think if you looked like this?”

The voice allowed silence to suck the living air from the room. Shen struggled to take a breath. Falling to the floor his hands instinctively moved to his collar. The room seemed to get smaller. The floor felt cold and had a distinctive antiseptic smell. Shen’s eyes narrowed and all he could think was just how clean the floor was.

“Your foolishness has put our entire mission in jeopardy. Within days, the Kulmyks will launch a taskforce toward our small sanctuary. And when they get here, when they get here Shen,” said the voice, hovering just over Shen’s ear, “they will make what they did to me look like child’s play. And all for a null.”

The voice pulled away. Shen gasped for air as if breaking the surface.

“Taren?”

“Yes sir?”

“Get him out of my sight before I change my mind.”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh, and Taren.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve got twenty-four hours with the null. Don’t disappoint me.”

Categories: Story, Shen, Taren, The Voice

151. Well, Stone Me

Somewhere a chron was ticking; cold, wet, metallic, coppery pain punctuated each beat. The pain was dull like an early morning hangover. I knew it was there and I knew it would get worse before it got better and I knew sooner or later I would have to get out of bed. It was that kind of dull, vague, blurry, throbbing, indiscriminate pain. Nothing but time would bring relief.

The steady beat grew louder. Someone had turned on the lights and for a second, the piercing pain of bright light shoved the steady throbbing dull pain out of consciousness. This pain was sharp. I felt like someone had stuck their fingers through my eye sockets and was pressing hard against the back of my skull, pinning my head to the floor.

“Turn out those lights,” yelled Kyra, her voice tinged with an anger born of irritation.

“Whoa, there,” said Von. “It’s just me. You’ve taken a very nasty blow to the head. Just another second and I’ll have most of this blood cleaned up. Try and sit up and hold this rag tight against your lip.”

“Von? Is that you?” said Kyra, trying to focus though the tiny slits she would allow her eyelids to open. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Someone up there is looking out for us is about all I can reckon. I couldn’t get the doors open before the Vollmond’s attacked again. I thought we were done. Somehow, we slipped away when the outer hull disintegrated in a huge fireball. One moment my sight was filled with fire and the next the pure blackness of space. For just a moment I thought we had passed over. It was so quiet, so peaceful. And then those beautiful pin-pricks of light.”

“Is everyone else okay?” asked Kyra, her voice muffled by the rag.

“Everyone is fine.”

“And Rog?”

Von hesitated. “Rog is not doing good.”

“We can’t lose him Von. We won’t lose him.”

“Steady now. That’s a pretty nasty cut you’ve got. Besides, I’ve got a plan,” said Von. Reaching inside his jacket he pulled out a ragged piece of paper.

“What the frail is that,” asked Kyra, wincing in pain with the raising of her voice.

“It’s our stone,” smiled Von. “I haven’t forgotten everything your Papa taught me.”

Kyra squinted, her eyes reflecting a puzzled look. “Stone?”

“You know. Kill two birds with one stone. Surely you’ve . . . oh, never mind. This map is going to take us to Mairi and I have a feeling when we find Mairi, we’re going to find the help we need for Rog.”

"So that's your plan? A piece of paper with a map the size of half of Hyneria?"

"You got any better ideas?" asked Von.

Kyra smiled with the good side of her face. "Nope. Now help me up and tell me more about this plan."

Categories: Story, Kyra, Von

150. Only Six

One month earlier . . .

“Who is that Kyra,” asked Emy.

“It’s me and this one here is Grand,” said Kyra, taking the sketches back, her eyes as distant and misty as an October morning on the lake. Emy was the first one onboard to see these drawings. After Emy had shared her portfolio and so much of her life, Kyra felt the need to reciprocate.

“I don’t mean to pry, but I sense there is more to these sketches than just someone doodling away the time,” said Emy.

Kyra looked up. Her eyes vacant. Her mind elsewhere.

“I’m sorry Kyra, it’s really none of my business.”

“My sister drew them. In hospital. She was six,” said Kyra.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“She was quite a few years younger than me. A ball of optimistic energy. I often pray that I might have half as much courage as she did.”

Emy couldn’t bring herself to ask but her eyes clearly showed she wanted to know more.

“I never cried so much in all my life. First time I ever saw Papa cry too. Sometimes we take more than we give. That little girl was just the opposite. A larger heart I have never seen. Even toward the end, she gave more than we could ever give back. Doctors said there was nothing they could do. We knew from birth. The defect was ticking. No one expected her to live more than a couple years, but she made it six. Perhaps she knew. Perhaps she was an angel in our midst, a gift to teach us how to live, how to give, how to love. How do you repay that?”

Emy sat stunned, not knowing what to say.

“It’s okay Emy. She lives. In these images. In my mind. But most of all, she lives in every fiber of my heart. You know what she told me in those last days? Emy, do you know what that little girl said?”

“I have no idea,” whispered Emy, trying to hold back her own tears.

“In her last days, when her voice could hardly be heard and we had to lean over to hear her speak, she called me close. She said, I love you Kyra. I love you with all my heart. You have been the best sister in the whole world and I have been the luckiest little girl to have had you for my big sister. And then . . .”

“And then what?” asked Emy.

“And then I started to cry and she told me my tears were like water. I asked her what she meant and she said just as Papa nourished his flowers with water, that my tears nourished her. She was six years old Emy. How does that come from a six year old? Can you tell me? How?”

Emy was speechless again.

“Then she said she had something for me. And she pulled out these two drawings. I started crying again and she looked up at me and said, Kyra, please hold my hands. So I did. And she smiled as only children smile. And she whispered, When you go to sleep at night and close your eyes, think of me and I will be there, always, forever because I love you Kyra and no thing, no person, not even this illness will keep me from living in your heart. That was the last time I saw her alive. She passed in the night.

Emy opened her arms and the two embraced and they cried.

“She was the blessed one Emy. She was the giver. And she was only six.”

Categories: Story, Kyra, Emy, Paintings

149. Mission Accomplished

“This is Red Leader. Mission accomplished. Target destroyed. Repeat. Target destroyed. Fuel low. Returning to base, over.”

Categories: Story, John Discovery

148. Sweet Darkness

Trev stood waiting on the ramp, his silhouette backlit with golden light from inside the ship. He saw Von and Em first, carrying what looked like enough weapons to blow the bay doors if need be. They moved with a stern urgency barely glancing his way. Right behind them was an odd shaped figure and what looked to be Yul attached to it.

“Trev, give me a hand,” yelled Kyra over the din of explosions. Lying Rog on the stretcher, Kyra grabbed Trev by the shoulders forcing his eyes to meet hers. Trev had seen that intensity once before. “There will be no try Trev. You make this happen. I want Rog back just exactly the way he was.” Kyra seemed not to blink. Neither her hands nor her eyes let go of Trev.

“I’m going to need help,” responded Trev.

“Yul, go with him. Now move. Go,” said Kyra. “Von, where are you?”

“In the command center,” said Von.

“Update on those doors?”

“Internal damage to the ship’s central computers is forcing me to bypass normal routing and access the redundant conduit, which I’m assuming actually exists. If it doesn’t—“

“If it doesn’t you will find a way Von,” interrupted Kyra.

Von smiled. “Yes ma’am. I will find a way.”

“Kyra, come in, this is Trev.”

“Go ahead.”

“Rog has lost a lot of blood. More than we have in the lab to replace. His right arm requires more expertise than I have if it is to be saved. Assuming . . .”

“Assuming what Trev?”

“Kyra, Rog has severe trauma to the upper spine and central chest cavity. I am doing everything I can,” said Trev. “But . . .”

“Damn it Trev, say what’s on your mind. But what?”

“But without a miracle, I’m not sure how he is going to survive. The hynerian body was not designed to take this much punishment. Even if I had disposal of a first-class emergency facility I’m not sure we could do anything more than prolong the inevitable.”

“Then by Janus, prolong. Prolong like you’ve never prolonged before. You’re the only chance he has Trev. There is no one else,” said Kyra.

“Von? Give me some good—“ A massive explosion rocked the bay. Orange red flames reflected off the glassy surfaces of Kyra’s blue eyes like fire on the sea. And then, silence followed darkness as it must be when one slips peacefully into the depths of the ocean.

Categories: Story, Kyra, Rog, Von, Trev

147. Quiver Me This

“Where are you taking me,” asked Mairi with a slight quiver in her voice. Shen’s escape pod had room for only two and the quarters were tight. She had never felt so completely out of control, so vulnerable, so prostrated. Shen towered above her. He could do whatever he wanted. No one could hear. No one could help. No one would know. She did not know the word to describe the feeling. Abject fear, sheer paralyzing terror; neither did justice to her emotional state.

“Out of harm’s way,” said Shen. “I understand your fear of the unknown and the terror in your heart over what your mind imagines will be your fate. The fact of the matter is, I’ve saved your life.”

Mairi starred straight ahead trying to digest words and actions that appeared contradictory. “You know they will come for me; and they will find me,” said Mairi, trying her best to sound confident as her trembling vocal cords betrayed her.

“I have no doubt concerning the loyalty and dedication of your former crew. I imagine under other circumstances they would make the attempt. I was particularly impressed with Kyra and would have liked the opportunity to examine her further. I sensed she was somehow different from the rest. A shame really. I suppose now we will never know just how those Vollmonds picked up our trail.”

As if speaking louder would make it so Mairi shouted. “They will come. I promise you, they will not leave me behind.”

“My dear child, your crew is dead, as is mine. Our vessel came under direct attack from two Kulmyk long-range interceptors. Our only defense against them was stealth. How we lost that, I don’t know, but they would have required no more than two, perhaps three attack runs to destroy our ship, which I’m afraid to say, would have occurred just minutes ago. As I said, I’ve saved your life.”

Mairi’s face drew pale and the muscles in her jaw locked tight against the words thrown her way. She could detect no falsehood in Shen’s tone. Numbness flooded outward from the base of her skull, radiating in a tingling sensation from her fingers to her toes. Her whole body felt stiff and unresponsive. Her mind cascaded into a surreal dreamlike state.

“I suggest you brace yourself Mairi. We’re coming in for landing and these small pods lack, how should I say it, finesse.”

Categories: Story, Shen, Mairi

Growing Pains

As I tried to leave a comment on Terry's blog a few minutes ago, I was confronted with this message from Blogger:

Account Moved to a Google Account

The account you've just logged in with, tgeorge123, has been merged with the Google Account decadenttranquility-AT-gmail.com.

You will need to log in to the new version of Blogger in beta with your Google Account.

Log in to the Blogger beta

Unfortunately, you cannot post a comment on a non-beta blog or claim a mobile blog using your Google Account. These features are coming soon.


Seems there are a few growing pains with the transition to beta.blogger. If you don't see me commenting on your blog, please know it is not from lack of trying. Jenni, I had this problem with your site a few days ago although I was able to leave a comment on Autumn's site this morning. Soon, I hope, Blogger will sort out commenting issues as they transition to the new Blogger.

Update:

Apparently, Anon comments will still work, both ways, if Blogger refuses to cooperate, which seems to be hit and miss.

146. He's Not Heavy

“Rog, oh my Janus, what the frail happened to you?” said Yul, fighting back the tears. Rog’s roughhewn body, lying limp, his eyes dark, lifeless, turned her stomach inside out. "This can't be. It can't be. It won't happen like this! Von, tell me it won't happen like this."

“He’ll live,” said Von. “I suggest we get back to ship,” lowering his eyes in Yul’s direction. “Kyra, can you walk?”

“I’ll be fine, but we aren’t leaving Mairi.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about us leaving her,” said Von. “She’s already gone.”

“What?” asked Kyra.

“I saw two escape pods. I would bet my shield Mairi was in one of them. The Vollmond’s are going to destroy this vessel, and if we don’t get off this deathtrap, Mairi will be the least of our concerns.”

“Trev, prepare Bravo for immediate launch and lower the ramp. We’ve got wounded,” said Kyra. “Emy, help Von with the weapons. Yul, I’m going to need your help with Rog.”

Yul lifted Rog onto Kyra's back, her hands sticky with his dark red blood. He had never felt so heavy nor had she ever felt so strong.

“Kyra?”

“What is it Trev?”

"We’re not going anywhere if we can’t get the bay doors open.”

Kyra looked at Von with more than just the weight of Rog on her shoulders. “I’ll take care of the bay doors,” said Von. “Tell Trev to prepare the lab. Rog will need his full concentration.”

“Trev? commed Kyra.”

“I heard. What’s wrong with Rog?”

“Hard to tell in the dark. Looks like severe las shot wounds. He’s lost a lot of blood. Get your mind right Trev. We are not going to lose him. Do you hear me. We will not lose Rog.”

Categories: Story, Kyra, Yul, Von, Rog, Trev

145. Fire in the Hole

“This is Red Leader. We have target lock. Request permission to fire.”

“Permission granted Red Leader. Fire at will, fire without mercy,” responded Kulmyk command.

“Roger, commencing firing procedure.”

“Holy Shiott, what was that?” asked Yul trying to regain her balance.

“Not good,” said Kyra. “Sounded like an external explosion. Trev, are you picking up anything?”

“Give me just a sec,” said Trev. “Kyra, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear Trev. What’s up?”

“Appears we’re not alone. Two small craft, unidentified with apparent hostile intent.”

Before Kyra could respond another loud explosion knocked everyone to the floor.

“Papa, can I help?” asked Kyra.

“Absolutely. Come take the handle and gently tip the nozzle letting the water nourish those flowers to your right,” said Papa.

“Why do you water these flowers everyday Papa?”

“Whatever you water grows my dear sweet child. Water the love and joy and compassion in your heart and watch them grow. Likewise, water anger, bitterness and resentment, and they too will flourish. Ask yourself, each morning--”

“Kyra, Kyra, wake up,” yelled Yul, shaking her by the arm. The last series of explosions had thrown Kyra into the wall, knocking her unconscious. Smoke began to fill the corridor. Alarms blared. Breathing became difficult and eyes watered.

“Where is Rog? asked Kyra, slowly opening her eyes.

“Von is bringing him back.”

“And Mairi?”

“We don’t know.”

Categories: Story, Kyra, Yul, Papa, Trev