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.

365. Who's Who

Story Synopsis:

“The Story” begins when the author, while on vacation in the Caribbean, stumbles upon a few survivors of an alien race (Hynerians). Everything that follows is a retelling, or a recreating as some might say, of who and why and how. The story follows a mosaic format, not a linear one. Each chapter, or post, stands on its own, giving reflection to a small piece of the whole. We learn that eight Hynerians were forced to vacate their dying planet. The story showcases their external (adventures) and internal (pyschological) search for home and meaning in a universe dark and bleak. The relationship between Kyra and Papa (her grandfather) form the centerpiece of the story, a light unto the darkness, which is recounted episodically in remembrances.

Main Characters:

(Each character's name is hyperlinked to their original sketch or painting)

Kyra: a young female Hynerian raised by her Zing Tao Grandfather at Valla, she assumed leadership of Bravo.* Kyra is gifted with the rare ability to play in the field of “Love,” and thus influence events in extraordinary ways. Her parents, both marine-biologists and obsessed with the climate changes and their careers, were almost non-existent in her life; she carries within her both great joy and great sadness. Physically, she can best be imagined as a cross between Aeryn Sun (Farscape) and Aki Ross (Final Fantasy). There is more “me” in Kyra’s personality than any of the other characters. She is the literary love of my life, with her coal black hair and brilliant sapphire eyes, tight and taut, forever dressed in form-fitting melanic venuisan leather.

*Bravo-Four-Zero was the original vessel assigned to Kyra and the others. On a mission to rescue another Hynerian vessel, Bravo was attacked, incapacitated and abandoned (although still extant). Their second vessel, of Kulmykian make, is called Tranquility.

Papa (Zeke): Kyra’s grandfather. Papa entered the Zing Tao Order as a young Hynerian and eventually became the only Hynerian to achieve Ninth Order rank. Although we learn of some of his adventures in the early part of the story, Papa is mainly seen after retirement interacting with a young Kyra. He discovers early that her gifts far exceed his own and he pours his heart into cultivating love and wisdom within Kyra. He secures passage for her on Bravo, while he stays behind on Hyneria. A present day Paul Newman would play Papa. When I think of Papa, I most often think of my maternal grandfather.

Rog: Raised on a ranch in the southern reaches, Rog is a happy-go-lucky, good-looking, fun-loving, optimistic rustic cowboyish type with a killer smile. A younger Dennis Quaid would be a perfect fit for Rog. Rog has a heart of gold, falls in love with Yul, loves to pilot the ship, drink snoot with Von and dream of the next adventure. Rog sometimes talks before he thinks but would give you the shirt off his back if you asked. Rog is modeled in part after my uncle Calvin, who served two tours in Vietnam as a helicopter pilot.

Yul: She is the “Ginger” (with a rough edge) in this story. She exudes sexuality and most of the gratuitous sex in the story involves her. She was a twin and not the chosen one. Her father abused her emotionally. She could do no right and her sister could do no wrong. In fact, her sister was supposed to be on Bravo, not Yul. Yul is an emotional rollercoaster and sees the world through the thick filters of her upbringing, which is to say she needs love desperately but has trouble trusting anyone and is quick to blame herself for all that goes wrong. She loves Rog dearly, although their relationship has had its share of ups and downs. Not sure who would play Yul in the movie.

Von: Von is the oldest member of the Bravo crew, a contemporary of Papa and a Zing Tao. In service with Papa and the Zing Tao in the great Dauculus campaign he incurred a debt to Papa. In repayment of that debt, Von agreed to accompany Kyra on Bravo and watch over her. He had to leave his only son behind to fulfill this debt, a choice that has left him bittersweet. Von would be played by Max Von Sydow.

Trev: Trev is one of the youngest members of the crew. Boyishly handsome but somewhat immature and shy, Trev was in medical school at the time of evacuation. In the early part of the story, he was the medic. We still don’t know a lot about Trev and know almost nothing about his life on Hyneria. He appears to have a somewhat repressed personality.

Emy: Em’s father was a great sea captain on Hyneria and she spend a lot of time with him on the open sea. She is the Mary Ann to Yul’s Ginger so to speak. She has no airs, salt of the earth heart and personality and had a very good and strong relationship with both her mother, who died and whose essence she carries in a brooch, and her loving father. Em spends a lot of time writing letters back to her father and frets at the very real prospect she will never have children. In a recent accident, Em was blinded. She also is an artist. Em, in summary, is the girl next door.

Mairi: Mairi is a Châtelaine, which, although not developed yet in the story is a cross between a Geisha and a Companion (Inara’s character in the Firefly series). To be fair to Châtelaines, they are rather more sophisticated in their training and skills than either of the two examples above. One day, the story will take us into more detail. Mairi comes from a posh background, is rather soft-spoken but has a backbone of steel; in other words, she is tough as nails, although you'd never guess from her beautiful external appearance. She is extremely intelligent and, of all the females onboard, has the most classically attractive features. Unlike Rog and Em, Mairi is used to the finer things in life and has an appreciation for subtle details and nuances. To date, other than the fact that she is a “child of the shells” and her deformity is not physical but of the “mind” (she is a Null, which means she has the ability to blank out all telepathic communication in her vicinity), we know very little about her. Her nullness introduced her to Dr X, who raped and tortured her and who is now acting as her mentor. The relationship is complex and difficult to understand.

Kieran: Kieran is the only crew member to have passed away. He contracted the deadly Animus virus early in the story, and although the crew did everything in their power to save him, he slipped into the next life. He has, however, remained as a cameo figure present in spirit and sometimes manifests himself in times of trouble. Kyra was falling in love with Kieran, the one member of the crew she saw as her equal or at least close enough. She struggled to recover from her attempt to save him (which forced her into the next realm and back again) and spent upwards of two weeks in a coma. Kieran was also a "child of the shells." His deformity: two hearts. Kyra and Mairi are the only two crew members Kieran converses with, although he once encouraged Yul to return to the heart that beat for her.

John: John Discovery, aka Johnny Disco, is Kulmykian. Married to Cait with one daughter (Ariel), John was a senior level military commander who also happens to also be a neuro-surgeon. He is attracted to Kyra and walks the fine line between what he knows is right and the emotions just underneath. We tend to see a good bit of ambiguity in his relationship with her. John was the golden boy on Kulmyk until somewhere along the line he angered someone very high up in the political realm. He and Rog were railroaded on trumped up “Infidelity” charges and were to be summarily executed before they were rescued. In fleeing his home planet, he joined “the crew” upon their new ship, the Tranquility (Bravo was incapacitated in an earlier mission). Cait and Ariel are with him. George Clooney plays John in the movie.

Goldie and Pinkie: Mechanical valets to Kyra and Em respectively.

Taren and Dr X: Arc’teryxian, which is to say, part of a civilization at war with Kulmyk. It is still unclear who the good guys are and who are the bad guys. The story has not resolved that fact currently. Suffice it to say, Taren is now a member of Tranquility and it looks as if Dr X may be joining them.

350. Breath of a Soul

Fragments of Taren:
an inquisition (author/date unknown)

A: What went through your mind when you stepped off the pod and into the bay of Tranquility?

T: There was no wind but I felt as if there were. There was no sun, but the heat on my face was as dry summer noon. My hearing was more acute than I can ever recall, before or since. My eyes were open, but nothing looked as I knew it. In the air, a strange scent of the cleanest ocean breeze you can imagine. I felt closer to death, absent fear, than at anytime in my life and, at the same time, felt more alive. I cannot describe the feeling.

A: Try.

T: Out of control. Electrified with an intense focus so bright, so strong, I felt as if my neurons were on fire and that at any moment my head would erupt in flames. I felt like I was floating, drifting, even as my feet felt like magnets to the metal floor. I had enough firepower behind me to destroy Tranquility several times over and yet, I felt more helpless, more alone, than I know how to describe.

A: What was the plan?

T: Mine?

A: Yes.

T: To die with dignity, without embarrassing myself or my species.

A: Interesting.

T: I knew what my people wished, why I was there. And I knew what Kyra was capable of. After our clumsy and rude attack, I had no doubt her ire would be waiting. I was the lightning rod. My crew, witnesses.

A: What happened next?

T: I walked to the center of the bay, and waited. I don’t recall how long, didn’t seem like a long time, but my mind was moving on another level and time was not as you and I know time. I heard music. Actually, I think music heard me. The oddest sensation--of hearing music so clear, so close, but knowing it came not from without, but from within. And then, on the far side, Kyra appeared. And what happened next gets a little confusing.

A: Try.

T: She moved without moving. What I mean is, the next thing I knew, she was in my mind, and the two of us were walking in a field, flowing waves of green, flowers, birds and just the two of us. In the distance a lake. We walked in that direction.

A: Please continue.

T: (shakes head and looks away)

A: Please try.

T: What occurred next cannot be described in any language I know.

A: We must know what happened next. Take your time.

T: Have you ever drowned?

A: Go on.

T: What I saw, heard, felt, experienced, lived, was as death, death to all I had ever conceived. I died without dying. Do you understand?

A: Keep going.

T: I saw it all as if it were happening to someone else. The death. The birth. How do I describe that? How do I tell you what that was like? Imagine me holding your head under water until you could resist no more, till your tenseness became limp. Then imagine you are dead, but somehow conscious of being dead—dead without being dead. Then I pull your head out of the water, from death, and you are alive. A rebirth, born anew. Not the same, but yet the same. Alive. Same eyes, but they see like you’ve never seen before. Imagine what that first gasp would be like, that first breath, of your new life. Imagine a hand so glorious holding your head, having elevated you beyond the constraints of life and death, having shown you worlds no one you know has seen nor can they conceive. Imagine looking into those eyes, sapphire blue, glowing with a beauty divine. Imagine, in that moment, naked, defenseless, in the arms of another, in the arms of the eternal, where eternity is now, where here is all there is. Imagine sensations that exists not in body or mind, but in soul. You can’t, can you?

A: (smiles)

T: Frail you.

A: Take him away.

349. Memorial Mountains

Taren exhaled a thousand thoughts, each a separate path into the mountains of memory as clear as twilight, and began to write. His quarters on the pod were cramped, almost cocoon-like, and the light seemed more luteous than on the command ship, which, he couldn’t say, either aided his recollection or simply colored it in warm hues of distance seen. He preferred to write longhand, he claimed for aesthetic reasons although many suspected privacy. Digital data, no matter how encrypted, was an invitation for prying eyes. Pen on paper, on the other hand, was as secure as the fire that burned them.

“Ten minutes to dock.”

“Acknowledged,” he responded, with the enthusiasm of a ill-behaved child waiting on his father to come home, his ears as attuned to the ticking clock as the child's to the sound of tires.

His hand trembled with remembrance past. Kyra, whom he would soon see again, was a being, a force, unlike anything known, and Arc’teryxians knew more than most. He had seen her anger first hand, the blood of his friends spattered on her albugineous face like speckled eggs writ large. Why she did not kill him as she did the others he could not say. She could have. She almost did. But at the last second, for reasons still unknown, she showed him mercy. Or, so it was written. In his own heart, his life ever since, had been anything but, and he wondered if she had known that the greater torture was in survivorship than in the quiet peace of the next world.

Words didn’t flow on paper as much as pain bled from his neurons, synapses forever firing with the throb of fate’s door closing one entrance and opening another. His movements, since that day, lacked fluidity, spontaneousness, or joy as the case may have been. He was seen, justly or not, as a pariah. He had failed to break the Hynerian. He had failed to protect his men. And most distasteful of all, he had survived. No one could think of a proper punishment, until now.

“Five minutes to dock.”

“Yes, yes. I’m on my way.”

Perhaps this is it, he thought. Perhaps this is where I (he) find (found) my (his) peace, he (they) wrote. Looking at the words on paper, they looked like something someone else had written, as if he were no longer of this world and those that hated him the most found their hate had exhausted itself in wishes and now that the event had occurred, that Taren was no more, they had nothing left. And so, for their own devices, they showed him the false mercy in death that high ranking failures receive in the pulpit of state eulogies.

The doors opened with their familiar hiss, as if they couldn’t be bothered, and the ramp lowered slowly in step to the surreal sense of slow motion Taren felt, as one might have on the walk from cell to maker. Everything sounded distant. Light seems faded, muted. There was movement all around but it matters no more than the falling of leaves to the autumnal wind. Taren felt as if he were watching a movie of someone else that looked like him. He stepped from pod to deck alone. His crew remaining onboard like townspeople watching from behind curtained windows as a doomed gunfighter took to the street. He didn’t blame them. His fate was not theirs.

346. Incoming

“We’ve got incoming!” yelled Rog, his strained voice rising in disbelief, moments before the Tranquility absorbed a rain of multihued death as beautiful as dangerous. Bones shook and ached in step with squealing bulkheads, pain matching sound. “Frail, frail, frail!!!”

“Put the shields up!

“They are! I think.”

John staggered over to the panel, looking drunk with shock as his legs quivered under a moving floor, his arms wailing as one on a tightrope about to lose balance.

“Mommy, what is happening?” cried a tearful Ariel, curling in her mothers arms tight as baby in womb, seeking the last refuge of a child scared.

“Some bad guys have made a mistake. Your father is about to explain--” a bellowing concussion silenced mother and child alike under flickering lights appearing as photon confetti in still eyes. (the camera pans above the dark two shapes, one wrapped within the other, the ship shakes in contrast to the peaceful sleep of bodies unmoving)

“Who is attacking us?” barked Von.

“Rog?” commed Yul, her voice sounding unYul like, “what’s going on?”

“Not now!”

“I’m scared.”

“Rog, the shields! Now! Now! Shiott!

Light filled the forward bridge such to render colors mute and sound ethereal. Heads throbbed and eyes burned (symphonic music plays as we see lips move without sound, of faces contorted with effort, everything in slow motion; from her quarters we see Kyra on bended knee, a halo of light around her bowed head)

Trev rushed into the hall, disheveled, of cloth and hair and directly into the unlooking arms of Mairi, the two falling in a tangle of limbs upon the forgotten cold floor. Fear squeezed out the past, suffocated it in the urgent and in what seemed odd, trembling lips sought comfort in simultaneous tenderness as arms sought release in grip tight.

Em sat in her quarters, not moving. “Ms Em,” intoned Pinky. "Ms Em? Ms Em!”

Em just sat, still, cane in her left hand, her right hand on her thigh, back straight.

“Goldie?” Pinky called again. “Goldie!?” There was no answer.

“Von, I need your help.” John’s voice sounded placid, which, in and of itself, lent an air of unreality to the cacophony of sound and light. “See that panel to your right?”

“Yes.”

John’s eyes looked heavy and words failed him.

Von turned his head.

John’s lifeless form puddled, still as night in a meteor shower.

Rog looked at Von like the second string quarterback looks at the second string tight end with eyes that say, what do we do now.

“Prepare a boarding party.” If the voice could have smiled, he would have. “And Taren?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“I want you to lead the way.”

289. coup d'oeil

Ed note: The following bits and pieces surfaced on the flight yesterday. They may or may not have happened in the story. The image is what I call "Place Your Bets," an allusion to which bits below you think really happened.


Internal Affairs visited Cait. They wanted to know where John was. Said something about a chip.

Mairi finds Trev. He's a mess. Camera pans away with Mairi holding Trev in her arms like a frightened child, her hair blowing in the wind. She is wearing a long pleated skirt with a mustard colored blouse offsetting her auburn locks.

Dr. X discovers that Châtelaine's undergo three months of training to communicate with their eyes.

The signal Rog recognizes comes from Kyra's Zing Tao ring.

Taren is forced to destroy the ring, and under duress has to do it in front of Kyra.

This unleashes a side of Kyra never seen and she destroys the entire compound.

When no one is left alive, she collapses in a heap as a light is seen around her--Kieran.

When Mairi finds Trev he has blood caked on his upper lip, his eyes stare unblinking, lifeless; he can't form coherent words or thoughts. His body feels strangely cold and he trembles uncontrollably.

Mairi puts hands on his head, closes her eyes and has flashes of his mind. She cries, something a hardened Châtelaine would never do.

Kyra spares Taren, barely. The number of dead in the compound count into the hundreds as she moved of body and mind.

Von said it was the most terrifying and beautiful birth he had ever seen.

Emy couldn't talk about what she saw for months.

Mairi feels guilt at encouraging Trev to sow his oats.

BC is pissed Lil' let Trev go and not kill him.

Kieran holds Kyra as Mairi holds Trev--tells her he has someone that wants to say hello, someone that did not take the last ship out of dodge.

John writes in his journal that "After the Kyra Incident" he is losing his moral compass with Cait.

Mairi looks to the heavens and cries out, "My Janus, what have they done to you." Tears streak down her cheeks and she looks back down at Trev's blank stare and through her tears she utters, "My dear child." She wipes his hair away and shaking her head says, "How will you ever forgive me?" She is rocking back and forth as a mother might rock a frightened child to sleep.

"Papa?"

Kieran says she can't directly connect with him but that he can act as a conduit.

Message from Papa: "We can still get there from here."

Von: (Looks at Rog) I hope you brought some snoot?
Rog: I did.
Von: Good Hynerian.
Rog: I drank it--all.
Von: (deadpans)
Rog: But I have a plan.
Von: Yeah?
Rog: Looks at John.
John: What?
Von and Rog: (Start laughing)

I Love You, I'll Kill You by Enigma is the Soundtrack for "The Kyra Incident."

Interview from Earth:

T: Can you explain what happened?

K: Taren's hammer was like a pickaxe. The down stroke to Papa's ring broke, and I shiott you not, to my mind's eye, I saw it as clear as day, but broke layer upon layer of inhibition and doubt while harnessing a synergistic melding of practice, theory and application that took years of pieces and in an instant painted, how would you say it, a Mona Lisa.

T: Wow.

K: Don't ever say that word again in response.

T: Okay.

K: (starts laughing) I'm just shiotting you. Bring more whiskey--nine glasses.

T: (just smiles)

204. No Pun Intended

“Taren, launch the anti-spades,” said the voice.

“But my liege, we are not undersea. Why waste the resource?”

“Not a waste at all. John thinks we are undersea. If we don’t respond with countermeasures, they will learn sooner rather than later that we are elsewhere. Now launch the counter attack.

“Yes, my liege.”

“Dr. X, how is our little null doing?”

“Better than anticipated. Let’s just say glowing blue, such an amazing biological adaptation, really quite remarkable, but forgive me for my digression. We are getting a much better response than any of my research indicated would be the case, as, I believe, is evidenced by our opponent’s confusion. She is paying off in spades, no pun intended.”

“Excellent. I have big plans for our little friend. Now what is the update on Calfuray?”

“Fully recovered and, if I might humbly say so, stronger than before. She is itching to redeem herself, as you might imagine.”

“So much good news dear doctor, I hardly know how to contain myself, no pun intended either. Have my dear girl come for a visit. I have an assignment I think will make her very happy. And by the way doctor, please refrain from any itching metaphors, which reminds me, how is our friend Shen?”

“Humble, my lord, humble.”

“Good. Have him come see me with Calfuray. Never hurts to have a little insurance, especially the disposable kind. Now, dear doctor, tell me more about this glowing blue adaptation.”

“Hmm, where to start, where to start . . .”

Categories: Story, Taren, The Voice, Dr. X

172. A Rising Murmur

+Taren, I consider myself a patient lump of flesh with, perhaps, a fair amount of compassionate understanding, although I suspect Shen would take issue with my presupposition. Let it be said, however, I honor my threats.+ Laughter within anomalous cognition created a strange sensation within the receiver, an intention the voice used with skillful intent to effect disproportionate orientation. +How is our friend doing by the way?+

+Recusant to the last,+ responded Taren, unnerved as always in the presence of the voice, his mind tingling like a tooth ache from the telepathic waves of mirth as if ice water lapped at the very shore of his raw throbbing skull.

+Status update on the girl. Where are we?+

+Dr. X is inside her mind as we speak. First breakthrough was easier than anticipated. We should know more within the hour.+

+Good. And Calfuray? How is my dear sweet child?+

+Convalescing, although we are not sure how long she will remain in shock. The doctors seem to think her catatonic state is a mental reaction to defeat as much as any physical infliction. Prognosis is for full recovery, although her albugineous flesh, especially around the eyes, is causing some concern.+

+First time for everything Taren. Nothing lasts forever. As my father often said, better enjoy the fete now, for the suns of Tyrus rise faster than the backside of golden goblets toasted to marital bliss on a cold winter night. What he knew of that, well . . . , another subject for another urn. Have the Tearacs been released?+

+Yes.+

+Bring the slate over here. Where my violaceous darling has failed my sleek beasties will feast. Been awhile since I’ve allowed them to run free. How are our two friends progressing? I do so admire their ingenuity.+


Von stared into the oscillating beams blocking their path. “Mmm . . .”

“Care to translate that for me? asked Kyra. Before he could answer they both turned in unison to a rising murmur carried on the wind like cool air preceding a storm.

Categories: Story, The Voice, Taren, Von, Kyra

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

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

140. On You I Depend

I have seen peace. I have seen pain.

“Yul, tell us what you know,” said Kyra.

“Rog and I were enjoying the evening and we heard odd sounds from down the corridor. Rog grabbed his stuff to investigate. Twenty minutes later, he hadn’t returned so I went to check on him. The door to his quarters was open but no sign of him. I noticed the door to Mairi’s quarters was open too and no sign of her either,” said Yul.

Resting on the shoulders of your name.

“What sort of odd sounds?”

“Loud voices, metal banging on metal, more hurried urgent voices and then silence. I told Rog to leave it alone. The bed was warm, we had nowhere to go, and besides, well, we had unfinished business,” said Yul as Von fought back a smile.

Do you see the truth through all their lies?

“Von, any ideas on why they aren’t answering their responders?” asked Kyra.

Before Von could answer distant las fire echoed through the room. “Oooh, that’s not good is it,” quipped Yul.

Do you see the world through troubled eyes?

“No, that’s not good,” responded Von. “My guess, they came for Mairi and Rog caught them in the act or followed them. Either way, he is facing impossible odds.”

“Taren, this is Kyra. Can you tell me what is going on?”

And if you want to talk about it anymore,

Silence. “He’s not responding.”

Intensity of las fire picked up. “Kyra—static—outnumbered—static—can’t—oh shiott--“

Lie here on the floor and cry on my shoulder,

“Rog! Rog, copy. Rog?” Nothing. “We got to move but all I’ve got is a las pistol,” said Kyra, a sense of relaxed intensity in her voice, her crystal blue eyes looking more steely than blue.

Von stood up. “I think I might be able to assist. Follow me.”

I’m a friend.

Von wasn’t kidding. His Ji Shield was the tip of the iceberg. “What the frail Von,” said Yul, “afraid the Javalinas were going to come back for ya?”

“Hope for the best my friend, but prepare for the worst,” said Von, picking up a pulse rifle. “Try this on for size Yul, that is if you think you can handle such a large tool.”

I have seen birth. I have seen death.

“If I can handle Rog I think I can hand this,” said Yul, taking the instrument in her hands. Her delicate facial features belied her core strength honed in the countless hours she had spent training with Kyra. Von couldn’t help but admire the definition in her arms.

“Yes, I think you can,” smiled Von.

Lived to see a lover’s final breath.

“What have you got in there for me,” asked Kyra.

“I want you to take the shield. Zeke would have wanted it that way. Strap it to your left forearm. Feel the energy flow,” said Von, watching as the center of the shield came to life with a brilliance he hadn’t seen since her Papa had last worn the ancient relic.

Do you see my guilt? Should I feel fright?

Rog wiped the sweat from his brow. Las fire singed the bulkhead just inched above his head. His two las pistols hummed in recharge. The corridor was lit with green and red and the occasion blue ray of energy. He couldn’t see his attackers but then again, he thought, they can’t see me either.

“Lieutenant, what seems to be the problem?” asked Taren, with just a tinge of frustration in his voice. With Mairi in their hands, he could not communicate with his squad other than by normal means, which meant less than secure.

Is the fire of hesitation burning bright?

“Red leader, do you read?” queried Kulmyk command.

“Loud and clear,” responded red leader, his Vollmond approaching target lock.

And if you want to talk about it once again,

“Taren, I need that girl here now,” commanded Shen.

“We’re working on it,” said Taren.

On you I depend. I’ll cry on your shoulder.

Kyra held the shield in her arm. Her whole body flooded with the strangest sensation as the shield responded to her wishes. It moved, like her arm, without thought, without effort as if the very instrument had become a part of her body. “Rog, not sure if you can hear me. Hang tight. We’re on our way,” said Kyra.

You’re a friend.

[ed note: Lyrics from James Blunt's Cry. Imagine the song playing in the background as this chapter plays itself out.]

Categories: Story, Kyra, Von, Yul, Rog, Taren, Shen

134. Meditation

Mairi overheard Taren on the bridge. "I wouldn't want to be her," he said. Wasn't the first time she had heard that. Really didn't bother her anymore, at least that's what she kept telling herself. Still, what choice did she have. Who else could she be? Where could she go to escape herself? She knew the answer. She knew the answer because she had asked herself the question a thousand times and the answer was always the same.

"Shen, you look troubled. Do you sense the Vollmonds? Have they picked up our trail?" asked Taren.

"No, something else. Something much closer to home. I can't put my mind on it, but all is not as it should be," replied Shen.

"Danger?"

"Not sure. But something is moving. Could be the female. I sense activity near her quarters, but the energy signature does not match," said Shen.

Mairi turned toward her holographic wall. "Springtime, mid-morning please," said Mairi. As the colors of the wall came to life, Mairi stepped out of her normal bodysuit. Reaching beside her bed she picked up her prized Jasperian cloak. The garment's lush softness against her smooth bare skin eased the stresses of the body, which in turn calmed her mind.

"What do you mean the energy signature does not match?" asked Taren.

"I mean, the energy pattern does not match any of the Hynerians," responded Shen, half paying attention to his young pupil and half floating on the aura of this unknown visitor.

"Kulmyk?"

"No. That is clear."

Mairi reached out with her hands as they appeared to melt into the holograph. The warm light, morning springtime sun, made her a bit sleepy but perfect for sliding into a deeper meditation. She closed her eyes and allowed the sound of the breeze to lift her mind on its gentle currents. She could feel her heartrate start to slow. So too the flood of thoughts begin to abate or so it seemed.

"If its not Kulmyk and not the Hynerians--"

"Taren, I've never felt a force like this before. Focus. Do you feel it?" said Shen, trying hard to conceal the excitement in his voice. Mairi was the find, but this, whatever this was, was an order higher. Intoxicating in the possibilities.

"Too far away for my abilities," said Taren.

"One thing concerns me," said Shen, ignoring Taren's disappointment. "Whatever it is, its moving toward Mairi. Get a detail to her quarters now!"


Categories: Story, Mairi, Taren, Shen, Paintings

133. Don't Ask

“Rog, what seems to be the problem,” asked Kyra, slightly out of breath from the run from Mairi’s quarters. Seems every damn time I try to have a conversation something happens.

“Snazzle junior is picking up unfriendlies heading our way. Might be a malfunction since they are moving faster than anything I’ve ever seen,” said Rog.

“They’re Kulmyk Vollmonds—long range interceptors. I’m impressed,” said Taren. “Apparently, they have not drawn a reading on us. How is that possible on such a primitive vessel as this?”

“Metalunans,” responded Kyra. “Long story, but they fixed and upgraded our ship. We still haven’t uncovered everything they did. More to the point, Rog, how long before they know we are here?”

“Hard to say,” said Rog.

“Ten minutes,” answered Taren.

“Options?” asked Kyra to no one in particular as her eyes did not leave Taren.

“Stay here and the Kulmyks will imprison your crew. Then, they will interrogate each and every one of you to find out who you are, why you are here and what you know about us. Their methods are brutal, unspeakable and ultimately effective. Once they have satisfied themselves that you know nothing, you will thank them for putting you out of your misery. They will, however, take special interest in Mairi. I would not want to be her in Kulmyk hands. That is option one.” Taren paused for effect, his own mind a cacophony of fear, fear from the minds of the crew.

“And option two?” asked Kyra.

“Dock this vessel in our landing bay and we slip away to an undisclosed location,” said Taren.

Kyra glanced at Von.

“You have eight minutes to detection,” said Taren. “ It will take seven minutes to dock and vacate. Do you want to live?”

“Make it so,” ordered Kyra.

Rog worked the controls. Taren’s ship was several times the size of Bravo-Four-Zero. The crew stood in wonder as the bay doors swallowed their tiny ship.

“Where are you taking us Taren?” asked Kyra.

“I like you Kyra. Please don’t ask me again.”

Categories: Story, Kyra, Rog, Taren

129. No Doubt

As the crew entered the Grand Conference, Taren turned to his mentor and seventh-level Cog, the highest ranking attainable. “Shen, what do you sense?” asked Taren as they surveyed the crew of Bravo-Four-Zero.

“No doubt she is here,” whispered Shen from behind his hood, purple eyes glowing with anticipation and excitement. “I could not be more pleased with her abilities. I have heard rumor of such facility but never did I dream this opportunity would present itself. Fate does work in mysterious ways does it not?”

“You’ve always taught fate speaks to those who open to possibility, to those who embrace the flow rather than resist it, to those who believe like children. I’m not sure I would have intuited the gift this vessel imparts to us and our cause without your mentorship Shen.”

“Don’t be modest Taren. I did not give you your gifts nor did I sharpen them. I pointed the way. You did the rest.”

“Does she know the gift she has?” asked Taren.

“Impossible to know without private inquiry. May I suggest we arrange a personal interview.”

“Absolutely. Kyra?”

“Yes, Taren?”

“The girl on the end, with the red hair, what is her name?”

“Mairi.”

“She is the one. May we have a private audience with her?”

“Mairi? Are you sure?”

“No doubt in our minds.”

“Can you tell me what special gift you believe she has?” asked Kyra, completely puzzled at what they saw in Mairi. Deep inside she watched as her own sense of vanity rose and whispered softly in her mind’s ear. Papa always said humility was the doorway to truth. She wondered if Taren was inside her head, watching with amusement and seeing her innermost feelings. Pride was a funny thing. She must spend more time looking at this pride when time allowed for weeding the garden of her mind.

“I’d rather not say in the open. Besides, the less you know the better.”

Kyra looked at Taren, trying to judge intent and purpose. So hard to read an alien species.

“You can use my quarters if you like.”

Categories: Story, Kyra, Taren, Mairi, Shen

127. Inside Your Head

Kyra heard the query, in her mind, and in her mind replied, +yes.+

+You want to know who I am and why I’m here,+ said Taren. +You want to know what threat we pose and your mind is racing to evaluate the risk level and your options. And, perhaps most pressing, you are wondering how this conversation is happening, inside your mind and what else I might know.+

+Yes to all the above,+ said Kyra. +If you know my mind then you know we pose no threat.+

Taren probed deeper into Kyra’s mind. As a fourth level Cog he had the ability to do far more than just communicate telepathically. He could implant suggestions, probe her memories, and see her hopes, fears and thought processes. He could also inflict psychic pain if needed.

Looking deep, images of Hyneria, Zeke and Kieren flashed before him. The doors of her mind opened without resistance, which alone amazed him. She had no secrets, no internal desire to hide, safeguard, yet . . . although he felt no fear, an unmistakable and intense sense of pain pervaded every pathway. He didn’t have time to discover the source, but his admiration for her ability to function and lead under her duress grew by the moment. Regardless of species, Taren knew the Hynerian before him was extraordinary.

+I know,+ answered Taren. +Our species are natural telepaths, what your civilization might call anomalous cognition. I apologize for communicating with you on this level but it is the only way I can be sure my communication is not compromised.+

+Taren, you have nothing to fear from us.+

+You do not pose the threat.+

+I don’t understand.+

+We are a minor civilization in this sector. Our neighbors to the west, the Kulmyks, are intent on eastward expansion. They have conquered the other three civilizations in this sector and we are all that stand in their way to the east. They view us as a threat and they are intent on eliminating that threat, which is to say, eliminating us. Their attacks have escalated on multiple fronts and multiple levels in the last few weeks.+

+Is peace not possible? Can compromise not be reached?+

+The Kulmyks do not believe in compromise. They believe in absolute rule, unconditional surrender with the emphasis on unconditional. If we give in to their demands, our civilization will for all intents and purposes cease to exist. Our sons will be conscribed to work the mines and our daughters used as concubines. All adult males not sold to the mining interests would be exterminated.+

Kyra paused, allowing the flow of thought to seep into her consciousness, sifting purpose, looking for nuance, agenda, and sincerity. Taren followed her internal query, amazed at the working of her mind, the efficiency, the logical organization, and what appeared to be pure intent.

+We are a small unarmed vessel. What assistance could we possibly offer?+

+There is one onboard we would like to meet. One who may be of invaluable assistance.+

+Who did you have in mind?+

Taren probed. She wasn’t playing games. She really didn’t know.

“Excuse me,” said Von. “Are we just going to stand here all day staring at each other?”

Kyra laugh, “Oh Von, accept my apologies. I think we need to gather the crew. Let’s meet in the Grand Conference.”

+Thank you Kyra.+

+You’re welcome Taren, although I have no idea who onboard can possibly be of help.+

+I know,+ replied Taren. +I’m not sure she knows either.+

Categories: Story, Kyra, Von, Taren

126. Taren

Sweat dripped from Rog’s forehead. His knuckles threatened to tear through his porcelain white hands, robbed of blood from the strain of intense maneuver. By all accounts Rog’s piloting was nothing short of spectacular.

“Kyra, I can’t keep dodging these torpedoes all day. Got any brilliant ideas?”

“I don’t think you are going to have to,” responded Kyra. “We’ve got an incoming transmission. Emy, can you bring the vid to full screen?”

The crew stood and watched as a murky blue figure appeared on the main screen. The alien image and alien voice sparked fear. Thought flowed and adrenaline pumped.

“Kyra, our computers cannot translate whatever language this species is speaking or even tell us what species this is,” said Emy. “I’m afraid—“

“Bravo-Four-Zero. You are in violation of Arc’teryx space. Prepare to be boarded. Resist and we will destroy you.”

The bridge got quiet. Just a few seconds seemed like minutes before Von spoke. “Seems we don’t have to worry about translating. Our friends appear not to be ignorant savages, or at least not ignorant. Kyra, may I escort you to the bay?”

“Anyone have any other ideas?” asked Kyra.

“If we let that thing onboard, we might as well just bend over. I for one ain’t, well . . . . I say we make a run. I dodged their torpedoes, I think I can—“

“Rog, we have no significant external defenses. We have no weapons. Our craft is not built for speed. And, we are in uncharted territory with no idea where the vortex has taken us. I don’t think we have a choice," said Von.

"I beg to differ. Did you see the way--"

"With all due respect Rog, if those torpedoes were meant to destory us, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

“I agree. Emy, transmit our welcome. Rog, stay here, you’re more valuable at the moment on the bridge. Von come with me. Keep all comms open,” said Kyra. “Watch your fear, don’t resist it. We may need the energy it brings to the table.”

Inside the bay, a small craft appeared more so than landed. Silver with bluish and purplish hints of scorched metal, neither Von nor Kyra had seen anything like it. Six figures emerged. One tall and rather dignified in his bearing, one shorter and wearing what appeared to be a cloak with only his cool purplish eyes showing from under the hood and four that looked like the armed escort. The tall one moved forward.

+My name is Taren. I trust you are Kyra?+

[editor's note: the + symbol used instead of quotes signifies non-verbal, mind to mind, communication]

Categories: Story, Kyra, Rog, Von, Emy, Taren, Arc'teryx