568. Around the Whorl

A knock on the door. Zoe nodded and Von stepped into the hall. A gurney, a nurse and a contingent of armed guards, dressed in black, weapons drawn, waited. Their black face-shields were polished, his reflection like a house of mirrors, equally elongated, reflected back. He looked from the nurse to the guards and back to the nurse before raising an index finger and ducking back into the room.

Zoe raised her weary head and inquired. Von held his finger to his lips and motioned toward the window.

----------

Rog had called for help. He had dressed Yul, wiped and continued wiping the blood from her face rocking her back and forth in his arms. The dispatcher had said it would be an hour before anyone could arrive. Rog had yelled. Must have worked and his anger subsided as with fifteen minutes, a knock on the door, help had arrived.

----------

Von opened the window, returned to the bed and placed Zoe on his back, her emaciated hands wrapped around his neck, the bulge of the child uncomfortably pressing into his back. Quickly they moved through the courtyard, steps light, breath shallow.

----------

Watching the girls skip and dance around the tree, an odd-shaped figure, dark, hunchbacked, cloaked, caught her eye moving toward the tree and toward the girls. Fear turned to shock as the girls stopped, their dogs pulling forth and barking. The figure kept moving and slipped from sight, the bubble of joy broken, a chill of aloneness, vague, grew.

----------

The Hood read the report. His communique had not reached Polaris, solar storm was reason claimed.

----------

John pulled up to the hospital, his comm blinked. While Kyra and Ariel slept, he took the call, a voice spoke in even tones and direct declarative statements. Quietly, he pulled away, heading for the chapel.

547. Nocent

Mairi woke and seeing Em asked, "Where is Trev?"

Em, seeing Mairi awake heard the question as one hears the distant surf. "Gone."

"Gone?" repeated Mairi, her voice not much more than a whisper.

"Gone as in not coming back gone," said Em, her tone numb, her gaze somewhere else.

Mairi stared at Em, part crestfallen, part disbelieving.

Em continued. "Not your fault. Not mine either. The boy has issues."

"What happened?"

"I confronted him on a few, let us say, inconsistencies. Of course, he didn't quite see it that way."

"Em?"

"What?"

"Why is your nose bleeding?"

__________

Several months earlier . . .

"Polaris?"

"Yes, Polaris."

"Punishment or reward. I mean of all the forsaken places, not that I'm complaining, I hear its beautiful, but--"

"History is made in the forsaken places. Count your blessings for the opportunity."

__________

A few days before . . .

"Sir, the update you requested."

The Hood looked over the slate, the data drawing him from seat to stand. "Polaris! They went to Polaris?! 

505. Larger than Life

Interview on the beach, my feet and hers unshod, heels planted in the soft wet sand, warm water rolling and receding between our toes. In a cloudless sky, the morning sun lays its warmth upon our shinny faces as we stare with squinting eyes into the endless steel-blue horizon. The surf seems to suck the breath from us as it races back to wholeness, a parental healing, before the next wave fills our lungs with fresh, clean sea-scrubbed air in the rush to greet us again, playful as children at a wedding reception pulling and tugging with a frayed rope. Our thoughts, in concert with our rhythmic breath, play on the music of the lazy warm waves like a spring breeze with laundry on the line; and for the longest time neither of us say anything.

T: Does the water remind you of home?

K: Somewhat. It looks very similar but the feel and texture and smell are quite different.

T: How so?

K: The water on Hyneria was much softer, slippery and I suspect had a slightly different molecular structure. I wish I could explain it better, but it felt wetter, was less inclined to bead. The sand, too, had a different feel; more clay-like and slightly darker in hue. Where this sand absorbs the sun and increases in temperature, the sand on Hyneria, year round, maintained a constant warmth--never too hot nor too cold. I miss the carpet-like feel too.

T: Interesting. Do you mind if I change the subject? I'd like to ask you about The Hood.

K: Not at all.

T: Give me your first impressions.

K: Surprised. I had an image in my mind that bore no resemblance to what I saw that first day and what I came to know over time. In my mind, based on everything I'd heard, he was a monster, a creature that took pleasure in another's pain, power hungry, arrogant, egotistical, manipulative and physically repulsive. I imagined him as a mass murderer, someone without conscious, pathological, convinced beyond argument in his own intelligence and knowledge, someone with a vision that would brook no interference, someone who took what he wanted when he wanted it, someone who had long forgotten what it was like to need, to want, to be without, someone insulated from reality, someone living in their own world--in short, someone madly delusional.

T: Well, that begs the question, if he was not these things, what was he? What did you come to know?

K: It's complicated. You sure you want to go down that road? This isn't a ten minute conversation.

T: You have no idea how intrigued I am.

K: Okay. I'll begin with this. The Hood was larger than life. He was one of those rare individuals that simply is not like the rest.

T: Charismatic?

K: More than that. Much more.

T: You're going to have to explain that.

K: Not sure I can. The sense is more experience and feeling than thought. In his presence you feel as if he is not of this world, not in good or bad way, but from the way he walks and talks and thinks and moves and stands and sits and converses and questions and listens and looks, from the way he ponders, his curiosity, his intelligence, his touch, his vision and past and experience; his taste in all things tangible and intangible. And, his pure physical appearance; the bearing, the posture, the tilt of the head, the shape of his nose, the clarity in his eyes, the breath of his hands, the stoutness of his shoulders from which hung the most magnificent robes. Take all of that, if you can, and try and wrap your mind around such an individual, one which controls, leads, rules billions of subjects that live on thousands and thousands of worlds and yet, when you are in his presence, you feel as if you are the center of his universe, as if there is nothing more important to him at that moment than engaging with you, listening carefully to your answers.

T: Sounds almost as if you admired him?

K: I wouldn't say admired. Perhaps I came to see the limits of my own judgments, my own assumptions, the limits of my own understanding. I came to see that the universe is something more than just our thoughts about it. And, in time, I came to see something I'd never seen before--my destiny. And here is what is interesting. Without The Hood. Without him being who he was, needing what he needed, engaging me the way he engaged me, I'm not sure I would have . . .

T: Would have what?

K: Can we take a break?

T: Sure.

K: The morning is slipping away and I'd like to go for a walk before the sun gets too high and the wonderful warm colors fade.

497. Outtake #6: Pleasure and Pain

ed note: Outtake chapters, like outtakes in a movie, may or may not be included in the final version. The conversation below is currently in outtake status. Enjoy.


The Hood: Bring her in.

Servitor: (opens door and Kyra is escorted in surrounded by armed servitors)

The Hood: Leave us.

Kyra: (looks around)

The Hood: Welcome. Please accept my apologies for the unpleasantness.

Kyra: You really should employ better help.

The Hood: (smiles) You know, you really didn't have to spare them. Would have saved me the trouble.

Kyra: The misguided should be educated, not punished.

The Hood: Yes, indeed, education. I agree wholeheartedly. You and I, my friend, not so different.

Kyra: Really? And what of me do you know?

The Hood: I could say the same.

Kyra: You could have killed me. Why not?

The Hood: (laughs out loud) You really don't know, do you?

Kyra: What?

The Hood: (walks closer, circles) I could no longer kill you than kill the rising sun.

Kyra: You didn't answer my question.

The Hood: Pleasure. And. Pain.

Kyra: Your pleasure. At my pain? Surely--

The Hood: Surely you think more of me than that. I need change. This world begs for it. Demands it. There is a hunger in the tide. You can't see it, just below the surface. Waiting. Needing.

Kyra: Needing what?

The Hood: A catalyst.

Kyra: Are you saying . . .

The Hood: I'm saying change only happens at the apex of pain or pleasure.

469. Perfectly Pristine

The Hood clicked his nails on the desk. Back and forth. His fingers moving like waves. "Are our men in position?"

"Yes."

"Rules of engagement clear?"

"Crystal."

"Humor me."

"Administer the vial."

"Yes."

"Just a touch. A bump. Skin on skin."

"Yes."

"She will need to use the services."

"And?"

"We follow. Thirty seconds beyond the void, she collapses."

"Maybe less."

"Yes, maybe less."

"I want her alive."

"Absolutely."

"Undamaged."

"Of course."

"Pristine."

"Perfectly."

"Yes. Perfectly pristine."

"As for the others?"

"Let history teach our children."

"Thank you."

"Bloody page after bloody page."

"Like the setting summer suns."

"Let them weep the moons into rust and upon that rust we shall nourish the iron will of our youth."

461. Glyph

The Hood manipulated the rune globe suspended between his nailed fingers. To no one he said, "The frailing bitch will suffer pleasure unknown."

451. Something

The Hood entered the sweating dank cell, alone. Huddled in the far corner was Calfuray.

"I understand you know something of the female hynerian."

446. Unacceptable

The Hood powered down his slate, took a slow steady controlled breath and released it with these words: "Frailing unacceptable."

405. Round the Horn II

Ariel: Running around Bravo like a kid in a new house. Touching everything. Playing with everything. Skipping down the corridors and singing to herself.

Em and Trev: Waiting for the operation to restore Em's sight as children on xmas eve. He is just itching to give her the earrings to match the dress, and, for the moment, the joy of Em, as the sun to night, shines bright.

Kyra: Torn between desire and obligation. Kieran told her, "to whom much is given, much is expected." She is tired, weary and in need of a vacation. Although she would not admit it, she is tired of being strong, tired of being "the one" that everyone looks to for help. She is also terribly conflicted with what her "gift" is meant to be. John's request puts her back in harm's way, or more to the point, puts her in a position of more death and destruction, from her hands. Death is death, and no matter the cause, the idea of more killing is more than she can bear at the moment. She longs for a walk on the beach with Papa.

John: Not himself. The memory of Cait and the future of Ariel color every perception. The brotherhood has framed the argument for a return to Kulmyk such that he cannot say no, or at least has not found a way to say no without losing every last sense of who he is and the feeling sits nauseous in his gut. To return without Kyra is nothing less than martyrdom. To return with her, based on their last exchange, seems unlikely. Only the urgency of events stave off depression.

Tom: About to break under torture.

Tabood: About to be apprehended. About to walk the same plank as Tom.

The Hood: Fears of a secret cabal solidified. Paranoia grows in step with ruthlessness.

The Brotherhood: Waiting on John's decision.

Von: Knows something is amiss. Kyra won't answer her comm. Neither will John or Rog for that matter.

Dr X and Mairi: Exploring their options for Em and the operation.

Rog and Yul: Enjoying their new found privacy. Doors locked. Comms turned off.

Taren: Uneasy in the presence of so many Kulmyks. Uneasy with the whispers of their request.

380. The Hood

The Hood: Tom, we've had a chance to review your report.

Tom: Yes sir.

The Hood: Seems there was a bit of trouble on Tranquility.

Tom: Yes sir.

The Hood: A breakdown in discipline your report says.

Tom: Yes sir.

The Hood: (eyes scan Tom) I see.

Tom: (stares straight ahead)

The Hood: Your report is a bit sparse on this breech. Explain.

Tom: Sir, as you know, John and Cait were personal friends of mine. What occurred before the destruction of the Tranquility is something I would rather not remember and since detailing the atrocity would serve no purpose in the greater scheme of the Deleo, I chose not to elaborate.

The Hood: Not your place to make those judgments.

Tom: Yes sir.

The Hood: History must be honored. For the children. They must know.

Tom: Sir, I'm afraid I don't follow.

The Hood: Tell me what happened. For history. So that we may be honored by telling the truth, however painful that may be. Honor the children Tom. Give us the record. You are a man of honor, are you not Tom?

Tom: (looks uncomfortable) Two of my men, on the boarding party, disobeyed orders. Before killing Cait, they raped her. The rape, unfortunately set off an unexpected reaction, and what was to be clean, became chaotic and ugly.

The Hood: (after a slight pause) Who set the self-destruct on Tranquility?

Tom: We don't know sir.

The Hood: But we do know you were the only survivor. Is that true?

Tom: Yes sir.

The Hood: And we know that John and Kyra and everyone else on Tranquility is dead.

Tom: Yes sir.

The Hood: I see.

Tom: Will that be all sir?

The Hood: Yes.

Tom: (turns to leave, only the sound of his heels is heard clicking and clacking toward the door)

The Hood: Tom?

Tom: Yes sir?

The Hood: One more thing. Have you ever heard the name Taboodja?