233. Supernatural Delight

“You didn’t think we would have a Bravo party without Kieran did you?” Kyra smiled. “Von fill’em up again. Rog, wanna tell us what the surprise is?”

Rog downed his second shot and looked around Kyra to the eighth glass. Empty again. “Hope your boy can dance?” Rog grinned, still a bit unsure what just happened but too excited to let a question or two get in the way. “Now, nobody move.” Rog took off and slipped behind a side door to the right of the bar. Before anyone could ask, Rog’s voice came over the sound system. “Von, lights.”

Three spotlights flooded center stage as Rog jumped from behind the curtains, a mike in his hand, and to everyone’s amazement, a curly wig on his head. “Welcome to showtime. Von, play it brother. Off those stools,” shouted Rog as the first notes of music began to play. “Get your minds right and your joints loose. Rog is in the house.”

Rog came alive. His eyes shinned with energy and love and his head started to bob. Yul was smiling from ear to ear and Rog locked eyes.

We get it “on” most every night
When that moon is big and bright
It’s a supernatural delight
Everybody’s dancing in the moonlight

Rog’s voice flowed forth with a natural roughness, genuine in delivery and just good enough to make everyone forget the performance and slip into the moment as it was meant to be. With the first line, or the fourth word as the case may be, Yul felt her heart pound in her chest as a warm feeling flooded her whole body when Rog turned “on” into a soulful multi-syllable serenade with such powerful sincerity that even Von stopped what he was doing and realized a moment of captured truth as only love and song can reveal.

In the slight pause between the first and second stanzas, Rog slipped into what only seemed later like a trance as his eyes closed and the music rocked his hips, arms moved in sync and his head moved left and right. Watching him dance charged the atmosphere and then, as if he had practiced his moves a thousand times, his bright child-like eyes opened on cue and song rolled over his smiling white teeth like a fresh water stream gushing down the mountain.

Everybody here is out of sight
They don’t bark and they don’t bite
They keep things loose they keep things tight
Everybody’s dancing in the moonlight

Rog rocked, the curls of his wig bouncing and his eyes flashing grins at the semi-circle of mates before him. Hands clapped and hips swayed as for a moment only this performance, this song, this flow of energy existed and so Rog rode the wave moving up and down the stage winking and dancing with moves of hip and shoulder no one imagined him capable.

Dancing in the moonlight
Everybody’s feeling warm and bright
It’s such a fine and natural sight
Everybody’s dancing in the moonlight

Yul jumped up on stage and in the short interlude between the third and forth stanza joined Rog in dance, and to all who observed, they moved as if no one else was there and thoughts of time past and time future remained at bay. Putting his arm around her waist, he pulled her tight as the lyrics fit the embrace and everyone laughed.

We like our fun and we never fight
You can’t dance and stay uptight
It’s a supernatural delight
Everybody was dancing in the moonlight

As the music wound down Rog, sweaty brow and curly wig, pulled Yul tight, kissed her and looked out into the audience with mike extended. “Alright. Who’s next?”



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

232. The Eighth Glass

Von stood behind the bar as if he had been there for years listening to patrons and dispensing wisdom with an avuncular smile. Rog had his ear and Yul, her arm around his waist, had Rog’s. Just a couple feet away Mairi was telling stories of Dr X and Emy and Trev looked like children at story time, eyes wide, drinks holding steady in tight hands with elbows tucked and still. Kyra stood at the doorway, observing the crew and smiled. Something special was in the air, she could feel it, a presence just out of reach, but the feeling was there.

As she stepped into the room, Von’s eyes caught her first, and like falling dominos, everyone stopped mid-conversation and looked in her direction. Kyra’s entire wardrobe seemed to consist of black venusian leather, but in the year they had been together, no one had seen this outfit. Her shinning sable mane flowed from head to shoulder like an Egyptian queen, a slight bounce with each stride, which in and of itself was in marked contrast to her normal ponytail. (Yul squeezed Rog just a little tighter).

Kyra wore long melanic gloves and polished fuligin boots but, well, neither caught the crew’s attention as much as what was not covered in black. Her formfitting outfit curved seamlessly from shoulder to breast, cupping each perfectly firm globe like a second skin, but unlike her bodyglove, from neck to glittering bellybutton was skin porcelain white, taut and tight, exposed like a sensual river reflecting the evening’s glow in the shadow of mountains atrous in dusk. Nestled low, in the seat of birth remembered, sat one brilliant sapphire, matching the twin windows of eyes deep as cisterns blue on a clear day. The natural flow of the design took eye from high to low and minds from welcome to hello.

“Never seen a girl before?” Kyra laughed, knowing full well they had never seen her dress like this. “Von, line them up. Only your best snoot, drinks on me tonight.”

Yul grabbed Rog’s arse and whispered in his ear, “Would you like me to pick them up?”

“What’d you say hon,” said Rog dully.

“Your eyes. Do you want me to pick them off the floor?”

Von reached under the bar and pulled out seven shot glasses, placing them down with that familiar knock of heavy glass on hard wood, as pleasing to the ear as eye. Moving from one to the other he filled each to the brim with golden nectar. Filling the last glass he placed the bottle down on the counter and looked at Kyra.

“One more.” All eyes moved to Kyra and Von looked at her with a blank look. “One more glass.” When he hesitated she added, “eight glasses. We leave no one behind. Now get that eighth glass before I have to mindbat you.”

Von reached under the bar and placed an eighth on the counter.

“Fill it up.”

He did.

“A toast,” said Kyra and she lifted her glass as the others followed suit. “To love, to life, to all we hold dear. A toast to you my friends and a toast to our future. We may part in the morn, but the ties that bind our hearts know neither time nor space.” And with that Kyra drained her glass in one motion and slammed the glass down on the bar as the rest, like a wave, joined and in that motion it seemed a light flashed quick as lightning. “Von, another round.”

Bottle in hand, Von just stood in place, his eyes locked on the end of the bar. The eighth glass was empty.

To be continued . . .

Categories: Story, Kyra, Von, Rog, Yul, Emy, Trev, Mairi, Kieran

231. In That Place

Kyra sat on the bridge of Bravo, reflective as a morning lake as stars twinkled silently like children at church; only the sound of her steady breathing could be heard. Von and Emy had decided to stay onboard for this mission, and, if truth be known, she preferred a smaller contingent and time to think. A year together was a long time to spend cooped up in a small vessel and the time away, she reasoned, or hoped, would be good for everyone. Above all, she hoped Yul would get the help she needed, which was to say, she hoped she’d see Yul again.

Sitting in the soft and worn leather of the captain’s chair, she mused on the thought that one day would be the day. Papa used to always say life was like rowing down a river, and then he would add with a laugh, a river that ended with a waterfall. Everyone would laugh, and then Papa would lower his voice and get serious again, his eyes looking round the room and making contact with each and every one before uttering in his low deep voice, but you don’t know if that waterfall is two days, two years or two decades away. You just know it’s there. Then, with the suddenness of a thunderclap, he would slap his hands to break the spell and say, How ‘bout some dinner!

Kyra closed her sapphire eyes and thought of that waterfall; and she thought of the precariousness of life on the open vastness of space, that no one was guaranteed a tomorrow. The haunting sounds of the tape played in her head as she wondered what she would find, not on board the vessel in question, but within her heart when she entered the realm of someone else’s waterfall. She knew the story well, for Papa never tired of telling it, of Zael and the outpost. But to hear it on the secure beaches of Valla among family and campfire, many years and millions of miles away was one thing; to be heading into her own private Zael was quite another.

Kyra opened her eyes, as instinct lead, and there was Emy to her right, absently starring at the distant blackness before them. Space always seemed vast and cold, no matter the temperature inside, like one was standing on the Nililian plains in winter with nothing but the horizon to be seen in any direction. Emy had chosen to go, for, as she said best, sailing was in her blood and ports of call were nothing but trouble waiting to happen. Besides, thought Kyra, Em had been a bit depressed of late, and this would be a good time to pull her out of her funk, or so the thinking went.

“Evening Em,” said Kyra.

“Evening Kyra. Only thing missing is the soft sea spray on my face and the wind in my hair,” answered Em, unconsciously twirling her brooch without taking her eyes from the large observation window that comprised the forward bridge. “Thanks for letting me come.”

“Glad to have you Em. I wasn’t sure anyone could turn down John’s offer.”

“Nah, this is where I belong. This is home, here, with you guys, on the move, seeking new adventures, not staying in any one place too long. My dad would have had it no other way, and you know, his blood courses through my veins as surely as Silus is the third moon.”

Kyra smiled. “Been awhile since I thought of Silus. Perhaps we can get Von to share some stories of his time there. Papa took me a time or two. It was, I think, the most peaceful and serene place I’ve ever been. Good times.”

Em smiled back. Wasn’t often that Kyra made small talk. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure Em, anything.”

“What is it like,” Em looked up as if the words she needed were on the ceiling, “well, you know—“

Kyra sat up and smiled. “On the other side?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a good place Em. A place where concepts don’t exist and memory doesn’t matter; a place where the eyes see through the heart and the ears hear without sound. I know none of this probably makes any sense to you, but,” and Kyra looked as if she was looking through Em rather than at her, “it’s a place where words are not needed, and as such, I’ve never been able to find the words to describe the experience. I do know this, in my darkest hour, if I close my eyes and I think of this place, I find strength and that strength carries me down the river to a better place.”

Emy paused as if to let Kyra’s words seep in, almost savoring them like the last bite of ice cream knowing soon the warm glow would recede and only the memory remain. “Is Kieran there? In that place?”

Kyra smiled with her glassy blue eyes. “He is.”

“Is it true you’re seen him? Since—“

“Since he passed? Yes. It’s true.”

Em paused again as if to weigh what that meant, what that must have been like, how that could change how one saw life, to have that experience. “I bet my dad and mom are there. In that place.”

Kyra let the tone of Em’s words ripple across her consciousness and she couldn’t help but think who she might know who might be there too and the mere thought sent her heart racing. “I’m sure they are Em.”

And for what seemed like a long time Kyra and Em sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, somber in the unknown, reflective in the pools of memory.

“Hey, said Von, breaking the silence, “long faces don’t get us places.”

In unison, Kyra and Em responded, “What?”

“Rog and Yul have suggested an idea for our last night together,” said Von. “I say we put the long faces away and have a little fun.”

Kyra looked at Em in mock disbelief and Em burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”

Von grinned. “What? You think I’m too old to have fun?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Em.

“What did they have in mind Von,” said Kyra.

“Come with me. I think you’re going to like this.” Neither Em nor Kyra budged. “Come on, I’m not gonna bite. Rog found some old equipment that I think I can get working. A good way to say goodbye. Come on, they’re waiting. Be good for our souls.”

“Our souls or your soul?” teased Kyra.

Von just shook his head. “Well, as much as I hate to disappoint you two young lasses, our little vixen ain’t sharing her stash, at least not yet. Besides, I’m going to need you two at full strength when we get where we’re going,” winked Von. “Now come on. Or are you two afraid of dancing or singing or both?”

Categories: Story, Kyra, Papa, Emy, Von

230. Hand in my Pocket

“So Von, I guess this is goodbye,” said Rog with his usual grin that just made you wonder if the boy was getting more than he deserved.

“Goodbye my arse,” said Von. “That’s no way to do it. Meet me in my quarters and we’ll part ways like Hynerians, or have you gone all soft on me now.”

Rog glanced over at Yul and she smiled with a wink. “I think I can testify to the falsehood of your accusation Von.” Yul reared back and popped Rog’s hide, her bare hand on his leather trousers cracking forth like a fastball in an old leather mitt. “Now don’t keep him long, I’ve got work for him to do.”

Von leaned toward Yul and in all seriousness whispered, “Before you leave, do you think you could leave a vial or two behind?”

“Von!” grinned Yul. “I would have never--”

“What? I was just asking. Been a long time you know.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what, be good and I’ll see what I can do. Now get on with your lifting and toasting and all the male bonding shiott you two do. I want my boy home at a decent hour or,” she looked over her eyes, “there’ll be hellocks to pay.”

Von looked at Rog and Rog just shrugged his shoulders as if to say “she’s the boss, at least of me.” And as hard as Von tried to stop it, laugher burst forth like boulders coming down the mountain and Rog joined in because he knew it was true. The boy was pampus whipped and he knew it.

Yul kissed Rog and placed a small object in his pocket. “Just in case you forget what is waiting,” she purred as her fingers reached a little further and stayed a little longer than was necessary. If there had been more light in the room, Von would have seen a rare sight—Rog turning red.

Removing her hand from his pocket, Yul blessed his hide one more time and as she walked away turned her head, and as if to punctuate her point, dropped her chin and gave Rog her most sultry come hither look while sashaying her hips and tossing her hair. Rog just starred. And so did Von, until the door swooshed shut and snapped them out of their spell.

“All right then, suppose we best get moving,” said Von.

“Uhm, yeah, before I change my mind,” responded Rog.

Categories: Story, Von, Rog, Yul

229. Understood

John escorted Kyra to the communications portal, closed the door and locked it. He motioned for her to take the center chair as he sat in the one to her left. Placing the earphones on, she followed suit.

John spoke into the comm.. “Testing. Testing. Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” responded Kyra.

“You know, we don’t have to do this,” said John, his face like stone and about as white in the dim light.

“I’ve never forgive myself if I didn’t,” responded Kyra, her face matching his. “You know, I must respond to the signal so I might as well know as much as possible.”

John looked without blinking, the skin on his cheeks hanging down like wet laundry on a hanger, his finger on the switch. “Last chance.”

“Play it.”

He did.

Kyra listened. When the tape was over she took the headphones off and gently placed them on the console in front of her. Turning to look at John her cheeks begin to quiver and her eyes blinked like windshield wipers. Clenching her teeth only made it worse and as the echoes bounced in her imagination she lost control and began to sob uncontrollably for what seemed like an eternity.

After a long pause John said. “You don’t have to go.”

Kyra wiped her eyes and tried to smile but there was no smile forthcoming. Her head still shaking ever so slightly she stood up and said, “I have no choice.”

John stood not knowing whether to hug her and in the awkwardness of the situation straightened his back, fixed his eyes on hers and lifting his right arm with alacrity and precision, saluted. Nodding his head in the affirmative and in a steady voice managed just a single word, “Understood.”

Categories: Story, John Discovery, Kyra

228. Dance of Blue

Rog pulled Yul tight to his chest, his strong arms wrapping around her lithe frame like hungry pythons. They stood in her quarters, aboard the Aegis, and although the picture window was nothing near as large or fantabulous as the one’s on Bravo, neither of the two had gotten past the “wow” factor as the cosmos sped before their embrace.

Easing his grip, Rog moved his hands to Yul’s face, and cupping her cheeks bent to press his lips to hers as a man in the desert does to a tin of cold water. Yul’s lips were soft with a firmness to match her age and Rog never tired of the way she moved them to and fro. Female Hynerians, among other things, had blue tongues, or should I say, every tongue had a unique pattern of blue, like the stripes on a tiger. Males did not. Whenever Yul licked her lips, in the seductive way only she seemed to be capable of doing, because of that unique pattern, the tip of her tongue looked like a spear, pointed and sharp. Rog could never put his finger on it, but just the look of her blue spear-like tongue sliding over her full lips made his knees weak and his loins come alive. And Yul knew it.

Rog had kissed many a blue tongue, as females were called back home on the ranch, but no one had ever kissed like Yul. She both took control and let it go with lip and tongue, active while appearing passive, soft and firm, quick and deliberate. To kiss Yul was nothing short of an intricate dance of wet flesh that took the mind by surprise and the heart by the backdoor. To feel her tongue under his lips while her long agile fingers combed the back of his hair, pulling him toward her as if she had him locked in place, well, Rog would never admit it, but the first time she kissed him like this he knew.

So lips slid and tongues danced as distant starlight twinkled as patrons at the opera, quietly approving the performance with a politeness born of dignity and breeding. Rog had long closed his eyes, although Yul often liked to peek, to see the effect she was having, to see the rapture on his face, to see a rough farm boy turn to muddle in her hands; and she delighted in a wicked way each and every time the expression on his face told her he was hers and hers alone.

So she let her hands drift down to his shoulders and around his arms as she pressed her nails into his back as an lioness would to claim her own. Her nipples were hard and her clothes thin and she knew he would feel her chest on his so she pushed herself into him on tip toes, the warmth of her arousal glowing blue with the natural light of Hynerian desire. As Yul pressed in, Rog let out a sigh as if she had squeezed it out of him and she had, although not by force of arms but by the magic of anticipation tickling his imagination. The only thought he ever had was she “was good, frailing good.”

Breathing increased as moans escaped parted lips and two souls joined as one before the vertical union of warm commerce. Rog was going to frail her or perhaps she was going to frail him, and as he would later say, that first night on the Aegis, on the way to Hope, not knowing how many more nights they might have together, well, he just said you had to be there.

Categories: Story, Rog, Yul

227. A Place Called Hope

Yul held the image in her hand, her gaze set as if a mere look could alter the very reality of days to come. Her hand trembled slightly and by force of will she tried to hold it steady, but the more she tried the worse it got. Placing the image on the table in front of her, Yul sat down and deposited her hands on the table, trying to steady herself. She wasn’t one to pray but her thoughts moved toward Kieran, and although she couldn’t bring her mind to utter the words, her heart silently asked for a miracle, for help, for intervention, deserved or not.

Rog walked up behind her, noticed the image and placed his hands on her shoulders. “They say this facility is the best.” Yul didn’t respond. “You know, they call it Hope, the facility that is.” Yul still didn’t budge. Rog sighed and his strong fingers massaged her shoulders, a proxy for the words he could not find. “Baby, I don’t know what to say and I don’t know what is going to happen, but,” Rog leaned over, his arms moving down her chest, fingers locking below her breasts as he moved his head next to hers and whispered in her ear, “I do know this, I will be with you every step of the way and we are going to fight this thing together and there is no force of nature that is going to mess up my plans to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Yul smiled weakly, her eyes still locked on the image. She leaned her head next to his, drawn near as if his words were pulling her toward him. “Hold me baby, just hold me tight and tell me you’ll never let me go.” Yul paused trying to keep her voice from breaking. “Rog can I tell you something?”

“Sure baby, anything.”

“You know my dock story.”

“I do.”

“I don’t know if I could have done what my sister did.”

“Don’t matter. None of us can ever know what we might have done in someone else’s shoes. Let it go. Our fight is ahead of us, not behind us.”

Yul let out a big sigh. “I know, but that is not really what I wanted to say and I don’t know quite how to say this.”

Rog pulled her tight. “Just say it baby. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Yul wiped her nose. “My father—“

“Go ahead. It’s okay,” responded Rog, trying to nudge her forward.

“He didn’t choose me.”

“I know sweetie.”

“I mean, he never chose me. If I asked for something, the answer was no. When I needed support, none was given. My dreams and goals were dismissed as unrealistic, that I should look for something more attainable. Do you know, my father never hugged me. He hugged my sister, but he never hugged me. Do you have any idea how much hurt there is within me, when I search my memory for just a single hug, just one time, perhaps when I was young, perhaps before my father made his decision that I was worthless, that maybe somewhere there was a time when I was loved, and all I want is just that one image of a hug, just that one memory of being held, and do you know, know what it is like, to be lying in bed at night, and no matter how hard you look, no matter how much you search, you realize that memory is not there.”

Rog’s mind whirled. He didn’t know what that was like.

Yul continued. “I’m scared Rog. Not of dying, that’s not it. I’m scared you will see what my father saw, that I am not worthy and I am scared I will die alone, in a foreign place surrounded by strangers who wait for my last breath as one waits for a stoplight to turn green so they can get on with the rest of their lives. I’m—.” Yul broke down, her head dropping, her words replaced with tears.

Rog reacted. “Baby, look at me. I don’t make idle promises. Never had, never will. Now you look at me.” His eyes watered. “There is nothing you can do or say that will keep me from your side.” Yul looked away. “Do you hear me?”

“I want to believe you, I really do, but I’ve been down this road before. My heart is not pure and it is not innocent. My father, perhaps he saw that, that maybe I’m not—“

Rog cut her off. “Don’t you even think that. Your father was an idiot, no offense, but I’ve seen you now, in close quarters for more than a year. We’ve shared wine and bread and spit and sheets. I’ve seen your heart and I’ve seen your soul and baby, I’ve seen you stand by me when Trev told everyone there was nothing more he could do. I saw you in the window and I saw you by my side and I felt you hold my hand like you would never let me go and I listened to your teary prayers and watched you light candles and in the dark of night, in that cold and lonely room, when no one else was around, you were there. And all the rest, your past, your father, all that don’t mean nothing, is nothing.”

Yul looked up as Rog took her in his arms, pulling her tight to his chest. “I love you Yul, and no power in the universe is going to keep me from your side every step of the way. Do you hear me?”

Yul choked. “Baby, if you squeeze me any tighter we’re not going to have to worry about tomorrow.”

Relaxing his grip, Rog laughed. “Sorry.”

And like the sun peeking through rain clouds, Yul laughed too.

Categories: Story, Rog, Yul

226. The Order of Merit

Kyra didn’t walk as much as storm into John’s office. Before he could stand up, she had her hands on his desk, her face just two feet from his and her sapphire blue eyes focused like lasers on his. “Why did you jam the signal?”

John stood up and putting his hands on his desk leaned over to match Kyra. “Because I want you.” John paused.

“John, I’m not in the mood. Do you have any idea what contact with another Hynerian vessel could mean to us? Think about it. Now, I’m going to ask you one more time and I want you to think very carefully before you answer.”

“Take a seat.” Kyra didn’t budge. “Please.” Without taking her eyes off John, Kyra slowly eased back into the chair in front to John’s desk. “I’m sorry you misinterpreted my answer. I jammed the signal for two reasons. First and foremost, I want you to come back with me. What you did today in the bay, no Kulmyk can do. I want you to come back and I want you to teach, teach us. I knew if you had hint of the signal you would want to pursue it. It was a chance I was unwilling to take. That’s as honest as I can be.”

“Honesty notwithstanding, how could you make that choice? How could you decide what is best for us? How John? Tell me that.”

“I apologize for withholding information, but there is one more piece of the puzzle you don’t know. We have every belief this SOS call is old, which is to say, whoever was out there and in trouble has long since—“

“Don’t say it,” shot back Kyra. “You know, you knew, no matter the circumstance, we would pursue it, that we had to pursue it. That we will pursue it.”

“I did. And so I had a choice to make. Do I let you go, which I knew you would, on what would for all practical purposes be a wild goose chase that at best would end in tragedy or—“

“Or you would selfishly treat us like children, deciding what was best for us, or is that, what was best for you? Is that it?”

“Kyra.”

“Don’t Kyra me. Do you really think I have any desire to return with you? Well, do you?”

“I really didn’t want to have to do this but you’re forcing my hand. We have a copy of the transmission.”

“So do we.”

“We have a copy that is not jammed.” Kyra didn’t move nor did she respond. “Before you leave, before you make that decision, I want you to listen to it. If you still want to go, I won’t try and stop you.”

“I want to hear that transmission.”

“We can go right now if you like. But before we do, I want to say thanks for what you did today, in the bay. I’m not sure I would be standing here without you. What you did, and I don’t really know, but what I saw was something special. And, well, since my gut tells me you are going to leave regardless, I might as well give you this now.”

Kyra watched as John picked up a small box from his bookshelf. Opening the box her eyes widened, picking up a sparkle of gold in the warm light. “It’s beautiful. What is it?”

“The Order of Merit. I had hoped to present it to you in an official ceremony, perhaps—“

“Please don’t say dinner.”

“Okay, I won’t say dinner. Please, let me put it on you. If I’m never to see you again, I want my last image to be with our highest honor around your neck.” Kyra handed John the box and he took the Order, unfolded the band and placed it around Kyra’s neck. “You look magnificent.” Before Kyra could respond, John’s hands cupped her jaws and he kissed her. “You saved my life. I owe you much more than medal and cloth.”

Kyra stood, slightly stunned at the turn of events. “Hey, I don’t mean to rain on your parade," Kyra said softly, "but can we go listen to that transmission now?”

John smiled. “Absolutely.”

Categories: Story, John Discovery, Kyra

225. It's Hynerian

Kyra returned to her quarters not sure if she was more exhausted or more excited. She had practiced a “mindbat” many, many times, but this was her first time under live fire. She felt exhilaration mixed with utter fear mixed with raw animal lust. Calfuray had her in every sense of the phrase with a skill beyond her imagination and expectation. Her tactics, let us say, were not anticipated.

Like dying in the cold, Calfuray’s manipulations of her pleasure centers were harder to resist than anything Papa had ever put her through. The temptation to let go, to have another take you over the edge while they were stroking your mind and taking you places you’ve never been—that was terrifying. Still, her body tingled in ways not completely understood. We love our enemies and share a bond with them that only warriors share Papa would say and she wondered how Calfuray was doing.

“Goldie, can you help me with this?”

“Yes Ms Kyra.” Goldie released a small clasp and tugged on the left sleeve. One didn’t so much as take off a glove as much as peel it away and the sensation of separation was both odd and sexual at the same time. The glove literally bonded to the skin, molded to every curve and anyone who has ever worn one will tell you the sensation had to be experienced to be appreciated.

As tired as she was, she had unfinished business. “Goldie, thanks for the help. Could you activate the waterfall acoustics on your way out?”

“Yes Ms Kyra. Will there be anything else this evening?”

“That’s all Goldie. Thank you.”

As Goldie retreated, Kyra moved to her bed and the light and sound show came to life. Beautiful greens and blues danced in patterns light and airy from the walls to the ceiling and the sound of lush spring water trickling and cascading down the mountain side filled the air. Kyra closed her eyes and allowed her mind to slip back to the edge as a slight blue glow arose naturally. Taking a deep breath, she spread her legs--.

“Ms Kyra,” interrupted Goldie.

“What is it Goldie,” responded Kyra, unable to withhold the irritation in her voice.

“Trev says he needs to speak with you right away. Something to do with the transmission. Says it’s urgent.”

“Tell Trev I’ll be there in a few minutes.”


“Trev, before you start, what’s the update on Mairi?”

“She’s in the med wing undergoing testing. Seems she is going to be just fine.”

“Good. Okay Trev, what have you got on the transmission?” asked Kyra.

“Well, credit goes to Em really. I was working on the transmission when she walked in. Took her two minutes. It’s a distress signal. Hynerian.”

“Hynerian. Are you sure?”

“No doubt.”

What does it say?” asked Von.

“Because of the jamming much of the signal is unintelligible but we do know three things. The signal is Hynerian. It is a SOS call. And we can pinpoint the location.” Trev paused and looked around the room like he was expecting an award.

Kyra was the first to speak. “How old is this signal, is it still being broadcast and how far are we from it?”

“The signal itself is not old. By my calculation we are perhaps a week away.”

“And is the signal still being broadcast?”

Trev rubbed his nose and squinted his eyes. “Nope. It stopped about the time Calfuray appeared.”

“I see,” said Kyra.

“One other thing,” Trev added. “The signal is in the opposition direction from where John will be heading.”

Kyra looked at Yul. “Okay, give me an hour, then we meet in the conference room.”

Categories: Story, Kyra, Goldie, Trev

224. Eagle and Serpent

Kyra deflected the telepathic blow with a natural ease. Calfuray came again, sending daggers of thought through the cold air of the bay, hoarfrost forming on the crates surrounding Kyra. Lifting her arms, the frost melted, and those that witnessed the affair swore later, a halo formed around Kyra’s black mane. She rotated her wrist turning her palms upward and an arc of blinding light formed between the halo and her fingers.

Calfuray’s eyes narrowed and she moved quickly. The firstest with the mostest as they say. She had seen this light once before and once was more than enough. Leaving her body, Calfuray’s mind rose above the bay and forming into a serpent with two heads lashed downward. Kyra reacted and rose to meet her adversary; and above the bay waged a combat neither seen nor heard between serpent and eagle.

Reaching into Kyra’s mind, the twin serpent heads spit a burning fire into her neural pathways. Kyra withstood the heat and focused her mind, parrying the blow. But Calfuray dug her fangs deep into Kyra’s mind, moving past her cerebral cortex and directly to her limbic lobes. With fingers nimble and quick, Calfuray fondled her lobes, manipulating first one emotion and then another. Kyra tried to pull back. She couldn’t. Calfuray squeezed Kyra’s anger then her fear while caressing her biological rhythms as a cat plays with a mouse.

+I would like to stay and play with one so beautiful and delicate,+ said Calfuray, as her mind’s tongue flicked out and suckled Kyra’s hypothalamus. One tongue circled Kyra’s pleasure nodes while the other tightened its grip on her bodily brain functions, slowly shutting off blood flow as one turns a spigot.

+You know,+ Kyra struggled to say, +it’s been a long time since anyone manipulated my pleasure centers. Don’t stop.+ Kyra was pinned. She needed time. She needed an opening.

+You are a delicious one, much sweeter to my mind’s eye than I imagined.+ Calfuray licked again, allowing the pleasure of control, of domination to please her. Call it the spoils of war, plunder if you will. She had Kyra. Had all of her and there was never, ever anything more satisfying as to take your enemy in every way. +Lighten your resistance and enjoy the flow. I’m going to blow your mind and then I’m going to blow your mind and if you are lucky you will never know the difference. Let go, and I’ll take you to pleasure you never imagined. Resist, and I’ll burn your brain out with an intensity that will make you wish you had never been born.+

+My Janus,+ exclaimed Kyra. +I’ve never felt such pleasure, the intensity is mind boggling. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.+

Calfuray smiled and it cost her everything. In that spilt second of pride, she loosened her grip and Kyra’s claws extended into her heart. Kyra pushed deeper and Calfuray’s body buckled and collapsed and a purplish fluid started to ooze from her ears. She was done.

Kyra walked across the floor, put her hand on Calfuray’s wrist and signaled John’s troopers for a stretcher. Looking up to the balcony her eyes met John’s. He smiled, saluted and walked away.

Von approached. “That was quite a performance. Care to share how you did it?”

“Sometimes you have to let the game come to you. Patience, Papa taught. Take what your opponent gives you,” said Kyra.

“Really?” said Von, tilting his head, lifting his chin and raising one eye.

“Really,” answered Kyra with a wink. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling a little hot in this glove.” Kyra started to walk away before turning and looking over her shoulder. “Von!” she teased.

“What?”

“Act your age.”

Categories: Story, Calfuray, Kyra, Von

223. Calibration

Calfuray secured the lock and set the self-destruct. If she didn’t return, then no one else would either, not that she cared one way or the other. Her mission was straightforward. Find John, kill him. Find Tom, kill him too. Return onworld and hope like hell the ensuing chaos created an opening. A rather simple mission until her cover was blown. The mighty null, she mused, shaking her head, what a frailing joke.

Long before the tocsins, Kyra knew. She closed the folio, stood, opened her eyes and allowed the unnatural vibration of ill will to wash over her six senses like a bloodhound taking the measure of its charge. Walking to her closet she slipped out of her jacket and molded her hard body into her black bodyglove. The glove, as it was called, fit like a second skin, allowing full and unhindered motion while providing more protection than a full suit of ceramite armor.

She had wanted a glove for as long as she could remember, but Papa insisted she earn it. Days of training turned into weeks and weeks into months and months into years. Her physical skill grew quickly, a natural, Papa would say. More shocking, or perhaps most delightful to Papa, her mental acumen astonished as if it danced ahead beckoning and teasing the body to keep pace. The first time Von saw the child perform, Papa asked him how long he thought she had been in training. Von gave an educated guess of three years, which for most Tao would have been a fair estimate. When Papa replied three months the two simply exchanged glances with raised brows.

In her glove, Kyra looked abso-frailing-lutely lethal as coal black hair fell on shoulders neither wide nor narrow, strong yet lithe and eyes sapphire blue narrowed in focus with an intensity seen rarely outside the annuals of greatness personified in the moment of destiny. Kyra pulled her hair back and bended knee while whispering words not known. Goldie watched from the shadows, quiet as a mouse waiting for the cat to pass, mesmerized with circuits feeding off energy sublime and overpowering. Goldie never felt more alive.

Calfuray felt it too. Von’s signature was clear and she made a note, time permitting she mused, of his location. But there was another, one stronger, one different yet somehow similar. Her mind raced. Priorities flickered and threat analysis considered. To the left, her main objective; to the right, this unknown threat, a threat growing warmer, stronger, nearer. John would have to wait.

Calfuray, like Kyra, was something of a prodigy. Not of the Arc’teryxian race, she had been bartered in a hostage trade to keep the peace many years before in a campaign the voice would just as soon forget. The peace was broken and Calfuray, as agreed, would render blood. After she killed the seventh executioner, barehanded, the voice thought otherwise. Natural talent of this order was rare. Ten years later Calfuray’s skills as an assassin were unmatched. Until her encounter with Von, she had never failed a mission. She intended to never fail another.

“Are you looking for me?” asked Kyra, standing on the far end of the cargo bay.

Calfuray focused her oculus crosshairs and marveled at the feedback. Calibration failed, but that was only a matter of time. “You know, we both want the same thing.”

“And what would that be?” responded Kyra, trying to get a feel for this unknown entity. Vibrations were mixed in an odd sort of way. Not what she expected. But then, she thought, what was.

“To go home. To live in peace,” said Calfuray. “We are tired of being hunted, of running, of living on worlds not our own. I sense you understand. Am I wrong?”

Kyra smile and now she knew why Von had had such a struggle. Before she could answer she felt a warm purplish light cross her retinal. Calfuray felt it too. Calibration. And upon the signal released the hounds of hell with all her might.

Categories: Story, Calfuray, Kyra

A Gift

My dear Sweetest put this together for me knowing I was on the road and would have very little time to update my blog. I'm speechless at the beautiful gesture, so enjoy.

Photo and video editing at onetruemedia.com

222. Your Move

[ed note: this chapter is happening simultaneously with each snippet]

Em walked up behind Trev, fascinated by the image he was working on. “Whatcha doing?”

Trev looked up. “Take a listen and tell me what you think?”

“A distress signal, clear as day.”

Trev’s jaw dropped. “How—“

“Heard them all the time on the open water,” responded Em, not realizing this recording was only hours old. “The signal is very weak but the tone seems a little odd. Where did you get this?”

-----

Kyra pulled out the folio and placed her palms on the cover. Closing her eyes she said, “Papa, forgive me, for I have sinned.” Goldie noticed a bluish glow from Kyra’s quarters but thought the better of disturbing her.

-----

Cait picked flowers and watched Ariel chase after Maria, their dog. Solar activity continued to prevent any communication with the taskforce. Taking a deep breath, the aroma of love past took her places warm and tender.

-----

Tom walked into John’s office. “Team Kilo has made contact.”

“And?”

Tom smiled, “No survivors. We’re heading home boss. Mission accomplished.”

John starred through Tom, his index finger on his temple with his thumb under his chin.

-----

Calfuray looked at Mairi, then Dr. X and finally Shen. “We are approaching the Aegis. Make one move without my permission and I’ll gut the lot of you quicker than your sphincters can tighten round your pathetic little fingers.” No one moved—not even a blink.

-----

Von looked at Rog as Yul looked over his shoulder. “Your move.”

Rog surveyed the board. Moving a white triangle into position, it turned red. “How bout them dimplerods boss.” His laughter was short lived. Coming from outside Bravo, the sound was muffled but unmistakable. Code Red.

“Crap,” exclaimed Rog. “What now!”

Categories: Story, Calfuray, Kyra, Von, Rog, Trev, Emy, Caitlin, John Discovery

221. Bury It

“John, tell me what you want me to do,” said Tom.

“What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

“Bury it.”

John looked at Tom and echoed back his words as if trying to comprehend what emotion would emerge, what part of his soul would reveal itself if he gave the order. “Bury it.”

“Is that an order sir?”

My god thought John. Is this what I have become. “How certain are we?”

“No doubt.”

John weighted Tom’s answer with the blank face of one knowing the answer but still in the vague fuzzy space of hoping against hope the grade would be different.

“And Bravo?”

“Jammed.”

“Really?” asked John, raising his eyebrows and rubbing his neck as if he could feel the imaginary yoke of command. “On whose orders?” Before Tom could respond, John quickly added, “Never mind. It is what it is.”

__________


“What is it Trev?” asked Kyra.

“Not sure, but I think you better get down here,” said Trev, a strange excitement in his voice.

“Be right there Trev.” Kyra looked at Von and he looked back at her. “You ready for a little more drama?”

“Opportunity my dear,” smiled Von. “How would your Papa put it?”

“Be like yellow,” Kyra smiled back. “Be like yellow.”

On the bridge Trev was huddled over the communications panel, earphones on, face cherubic. "What you got Trev?"

Handing Kyra the headphones he said, "Listen to this and tell me what you hear?"

Kyra looked at Trev and then to Von and back to Trev. "Could you play that again and boost the signal."

Trev did.

"Holy mother of Janus," exclaimed Kyra, showing a rare display of untethered public excitement. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Hard to say," said Trev. "But I think we got some work to do."

"Do it." said Kyra. "And as soon as you have anything, anything at all, comm me. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am."

Kyra turned to leave. "Oh Kyra, one more thing."

"Yes Trev?"

"Our friends tried to jam this signal. In fact they still are."

"Really?"

Categories: Story, John Discovery, Kyra, Trev, Von

220. Any Way

Conversation overheard from somewhere on Bravo by someone who refused to admit they heard it:

So, do you believe her?

Nope.

So what do we do?

We love her anyway.

Categories: Story

219. Don't Look Back

[ed note: In this chapter, the Yul we know is Aly.]

The jumper pulled up to the crowded dock and four doors opened in a gale of storm and emotion alike. In every direction ships of all shapes and sizes swayed at anchor, creaking like old men, as families were torn in goodbyes like leaves from autumn trees in a blustery gust.

“Father, may I have a minute with Aly?” asked Yul.

Their father looked vacantly annoyed, divided between honoring Yul’s request while doubting Aly’s merit. He was a large Hynerian, domineering most would say, imposing, no one would deny. Still, what Yul wanted, Yul got. “Make it quick Yul. Schedules must be obeyed.” The look he gave Aly would have frozen a battle hardened soldier.

Yul grabbed Aly by the arm and pulled her around the corner. “Look, we don’t have much time—“

“Hey, let’s cut the crap. I’m not pissed you’re leaving and I’m not. Never expected otherwise. But what the frail! Did you have to wear the same outfit. How bout I just cut my wrist so you can throw a little salt my way, for old times sake, you know, just for fun, one last time.”

“Are you through? Cause if you are, I want your scarf. Here, take mine and give me yours.”

Aly’s jaw dropped. “Are you shiotting me? Holy mother of Janus, I never imagined you . . . . Wait, no frailing sense in . . . Frail it. You want my frailing scarf. Here, take the damn thing.”

“Aly, it’s not what you think.”

“Frailing easy for you to say. You’re not the one with a death sentence, one you didn’t choose, one assigned to you by others. Ever wonder what it’s like to be judged?”

Yul’s face changed and in one fluid motion she slapped the living shiott out of Aly. “Listen up. I’m only going to say this one time and I’m going to say it real slow so that thick head of yours doesn’t frail this up. I’m dying. Got maybe six months to live, perhaps a year with luck, which certainly is longer than this planet’s got.”

Aly wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. “So why are you telling me this? You think it gonna make me feel any better?”

Yul just shook her head. “You don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?”

“You think I would dress like you on purpose? My Janus, it about killed my soul to put these clothes on. Look, here’s the deal. Your name is Yul and you are getting on that ship. You understand?”

Aly stood with a deer in the highlights look. “What are you talking about?”

“The whole purpose of getting people off-world is to save them from certain death, to give them a chance to start over. I’m dying Aly. Makes no sense for me to get on that ship when I know you could go in my place.”

“So why—“

“Father. You think he would let you go if he knew?”

“Nope.”

“So, I’m giving you your chance. Now take my scarf. When we walk back around, your name is Yul. You hug Father. Kiss Mother. Ignore me and walk your arse up that plank as quickly as you can. And Aly?

“What?”

“Don’t look back.”

Categories: Story, Yul, Hyneria

218. NotYul or Pieces of Me

“Yul, I’ve got something I need to say,” said Rog. “I’m not sure why I didn’t say this sooner, but, well—“

Yul sat up, opened her teary eyes and smeared her little fists across her face. “Rog, before you say anything, there’s something you need to know.”

“Baby—“

“Let me finish.” Rog sat up and Yul summoned her courage in what was only a second but seemed to both like a minute or more. “My name is not Yul.”

If Rog was a clock, he just stopped ticking; as he would later say, for one of the few times in my life, I had no response. He knew all was not right with her past and that she was not the one that was suppose to be on Bravo and had concluded that perhaps some sort of foul play was involved, something that Yul felt the need to hide, or at least not disclose. He had made peace with that picture. This name thing, however, caught him off-guard and his heart sank as if those five words had moved his peg back to the starting line.

“Rog?” Yul snapped her fingers. “I’m right here baby. Talk to me.”

“Sorry, Yu--.” Rog hesitated, hoping something intelligent would pop in his head, like real fast. “Okay, let me say two things.” Then he hesitated and rubbed his jaws as if they were rusty and needing oil, as if the rubbing would loosen his sticky hinges of articulation.

“Okay, whenever you are ready,” said Yul, filling the uncomfortable silence with a tone tinged with fear not unfamiliar. She rarely opened herself up because the few times she had, instead of love and understanding, she was judged and convicted. The pain of self-righteous condemnation was not a feeling she wanted to ever experience again. As Rog hesitated, she braced herself like one on the ground expecting to see the foot and not the hand.

“First, I don’t care what your name is, the person I see in front of me and the person I have come to know and love does not change with a label. Good milk is good milk, my dad used to always say, and don’t ever let no salesman convince you otherwise.”

Yul tried to laugh. “What the hellocks does that mean?”

Rog smiled that smile that only he could. “It means I love you, not your name, not your past, not my idea of who I think you are. I love you Yu--, or, well, crap, I forgot my second question. Not that it matters, but, what is your name?”

“I was called Alyssa, or Aly for short. Yul is my identical twin sister’s name.”

“You have an identical twin sister?”

“Stop it. I know that look. I’m serious Rog.”

“I know you are baby, but an identical twin. Give me a minute.”

“Imagine all you want, she was nothing like me. In fact, quite the opposite.”

“Sooooo . . . ?” (said slowly and softly as if he was tip-toeing through a minefield)

“So, you want to know why I’m onboard and she isn’t?”

“Yes. No. I mean . . . “

“Spit it out.”

“I mean yes, I want to know the story, but no, it don’t matter. As I said, what is done is done and that doesn’t change good milk to bad.”

“Her name was on the manifest. So, I assumed it.”

“I figured as much. You don’t have to share with me why if you don’t want to.”

“Ranch boy, it’s not a matter of want as much as need. You deserve to know and I need to walk to the edge and face an old fear. So I reckon, as you might say, we have a mutual interest.” Yul reached out and took Rog’s hands as she leaned forward. “But I need to ask you one thing first?”

“Sure.”

“When I fall, will you catch me?”

Rog smiled with eyes like full moons sitting on the horizon of his rising cheeks. “I think I can answer that question in one word: abso-frailing-lutely!”

And so Yul began to talk, and a lightness she had never felt came upon her as if each piece of her story was a rock taken from her shoulders, presented to Rog, and laid upon the floor.

Categories: Story, Rog, Yul, Paintings

217. Remembrance

Their father’s jumper struggled to maintain course in the face of hostile winds and if either of the sisters had had eyes to see, only dour grayness would have presented itself. Instead, one set of eyes looked to the right and the other to the left, and although only a foot or two separated them in the back seat, they might as well been on separate moons.

The dock was just moments ahead and one would have thought, in these last minutes there would have been a race to spill all the words bottled up inside. Instead, just silence, the kind of silence one felt on the way between church and graveyard when even the dullest recognized there was nothing to be said.

One would go and one would stay and the choice had been made. Yul was not surprised. She had never expected to be the one and the fact that their father chose her sister, again, only confirmed her world-view. She was the forgotten one, the forgettable one, the one who disappointed, who could do nothing right, the one who embarrassed, the one they didn’t speak of in family circles. And her sister, Janus bless her and it seemed he did, her dear identical twin sister was the day to her night. Truth be known, Yul would later acknowledge, she had no quarrel with the decision. Her sister was the one deserving of saving, the one who had earned it.

“Baby, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,” said Rog. He stroked her hair and Yul, her face wet with remembrance, pushed her head tighter into his warm chest, her eyes shut like vaults.

Categories: Story, Rog, Yul, Hyneria

216. Forgive Me

Yul looked into the mirror and the voices returned. It doesn’t have to be this way. “You lie!” she spat. But they returned. It doesn’t have to be this way. Tears flowed and her blue eye makeup ran like watercolors. She tried to smile but the knots in her stomach would not allow it. You can do this. “Do what? Look me in the eye and tell me what I can do.”

The mirror didn’t move and her image became blurry as her nose joined forces in discharge. “You knew it was going to happen. Always did, always does. Nothing changes.” No, not this time, you can let it go. “Frail you. Tell, me what the frail do I let go of? Answer me! What the frail do I let go of?” Whatever you are holding. “Look at me, look at me, I’m not frailing holding anything.” I can see you don’t believe that.

Yul felt her knees give and her hands reached out to the vanity. Her hair, matted and wet, stuck to the side of her face and her head hung down as if she was going to be sick. “You heard what she said. We’re leaving.” But she doesn’t know. “She doesn’t care. Did you see the look in her eyes? She hates me, just like all the rest. And now, she is going to punish me. But you know what. She is going to learn. There ain’t nothing that will wash blood off one’s soul.” Yul laughed.

You’re wrong. “Frail you. Red dress, oh she looked so pretty. Yes so pretty. We’ll see how pretty she looks with my blood on her hands. She’ll rue the day she brought me back." You don’t mean that.

Yul picked up a small bottle of perfume and smashed it against the mirror; a thousand shards of glass flew like daggers in every direction. “The frail I do, now get out of my frailing head! Get out, get out,” she cried, grabbing her hair and pulling as if to evict the voices in her head. Falling to the floor she pulled her knees to her chest and whimpered softly, “Please, just go, please, leave me alone.”

“Oh my Janus Yul,” exclaimed Rog. “It doesn’t have to be this way baby.” He pulled Yul into his arms and held her tight. “I’m so sorry, oh baby, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.” And he pulled her tighter and her arms, weak and shinny with glass, wrapped around him.

Categories: Story, Yul, Rog

215. Sun Globe

John tried the channel again. No luck, which seemed to be the par for the course. Team Kilo had mysteriously lost contact with the voice and this solar storm was preventing all communication back home. Not much to do but wait.

Reaching across his desk, John picked up his sun globe, a gift Cait had picked out for Ariel to give him for this mission. The globe glowed warm to the touch, animated by captured solar energy from Rubion and Triste. Sparkling with light his mind drifted to the sparkle in Ariel's eyes when she gave it to him.

John closed his eyes and let the warmth from the globe take him back. His bags were already loaded in the Carain and there was that awkward emotional sense of wanting to leave (to get on with it) and wanting to stay. The feeling was one that unless you had first hand experience, simply couldn't be described. One felt torn between duties, between family and hearth and god and world. It was a feeling no words could salve. He had long since stopped trying to explain to Cait and she had learned to stop asking.

John walked back into the house, standing just inside the door, and like owls in the night, two sets of quiet eyes starred back at him. Then as children are wont to do, Ariel broke the tension with a giggle as she skipped toward him, her hands held behind her back. He had bent down on one knee, his eyes on the same level as hers and the contagiousness of her smile gave birth to his own.

Then, without words, she held the globe out to him, her eyes full of expectant anticipation, longing to join her love with his, to seal a bond known between a father and a daughter. He did not disappoint. Holding the globe in one hand and Ariel on his knee in the other, he hugged her tight and looked at Cait with wet eyes. "It is the most magnificent gift I have ever gotten," he had said as he felt her little arms tighten with joy around his neck. And he meant every word.

Categories: Story, John Discovery, Caitlin, Ariel