The Bubble

The UES Avant Garde decelerated as it approached the salvage freighter. The SF Malcolm Reynolds had been emitting a distress call for several weeks and United Earth Space Command had dispatched the UES Avant Garde to investigate. Captain Rick Castle stood watching the viewscreen while the drones scanned the Malcolm Reynolds’ hull for damage. Castle, a career military officer, was a stickler for following protocol. He listened for any changes in the message sent by the Malcolm Reynolds. None came. Once the drones completed their survey, Castle would order the Avant Garde to dock with the Malcolm Reynolds. Down below, a boarding team was assembling.

Corporal George Kirk grabbed tightly on the overhead rings and pulled himself off the deck, swinging his legs into position to insert himself into the bottom half of his battle armor. Above his head, a highly focused beam of light awaited interruption. Once he was satisfied with his position in the lower half, he raised his arms above his head, breaking the constant beam, and triggered the lowering of the upper half of the armor. The gloves responded to the movement of his fingers as he initiated the release from the lowering harness. He could hear the pneumatic seal engage connecting both halves of the armored suit. The heads-up display activated as he lowered his arms and disengaged the supports for the lower half of his armor. He stepped back off the platform and turned to face the three other Marines that would accompany him onto the distressed vessel.

The four Marines marched out of the compartment and down the corridor toward the docking hatch. The rest of the boarding party watched from the interior corridor as the unit slowly marched down the gangway toward the Reynolds. Cpl. Kirk tapped gingerly at one of the controls within his glove checking the status of the suit’s weapons. The electrostatic discharge weapon had a full charge. The suit’s plasma cutter had a fresh pressure cannister installed. Fortunately, the hatch on the Reynolds was still operational and responded to a Bluetooth request to unlock and open. The four Marines entered the airlock and waited for the compartment to pressurize before opening the inner hatch. Cpl. Kirk audibly sighed. “Would you mind sharing your thoughts with the rest of us, Kirk?” Sergeant Zoe Washburn asked.

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m just relieved that there is atmosphere on board.”

“As are we all, Corporal. I want you to search aft. Take Devlin with you. McCall and I will search the forward area. Keep your weapons hot, just in case.”

Cpl. Kirk nodded. When the hatch opened, he and Cpl. Devlin slowly proceeded down the corridor toward the back of the cargo ship. The bulkheads had long ago lost their sheen. Grease streaked across peeling paint and the corridor lights barely provided any light. Fortunately, Marine battle armor possessed bright lights to handle dark places. At the end of the corridor, Kirk and Devlin discovered a mechanical hatch. At first it resisted their efforts to turn the wheel, but after increasing power to their armatures, they were able to unlatch the door.

Upon pulling open the hatch, Kirk and Devlin found the mummified remains of one of the Reynolds’ crew attached to the railing of the catwalk. Upon reaching the steel ladder, they climbed to the uppermost catwalk and inspected the compartments. Finding no survivors or corpses, they descended to the cargo deck and began an orderly search of the area. The Reynolds’ crew had sectioned off the aft section of the cargo deck. They needed a security code to pass through the airlock between the inner and outer areas. George Kirk stared at the number pad scanning for organic residue on the keypad. The heaviest concentration was on four digits. He smiled as he punched in his first sequence. Eight – six – two – four. The airlock door popped open. Pressing the lock button would seal the door once inside. They would need the same code to return.

Devlin poked Kirk. “How did you know the code?”

“Civilians are so predictable. They want something easy to remember, so they use a four-digit code in a pattern.”

At the second hatch, Kirk repeated the scan and punched in a new set of numbers. Nine – three – one – seven. The outer airlock door opened. Kirk and Devlin stepped through. Red light flooded the chamber as the ship’s power systems re-engaged. Sergeant Washburn’s voice stopped the two men in their tracks. “Kirk, Devlin, report.”

“We’re still standing. Encountered one deceased crewmember. Entered the aft portion of the cargo bay through an airlock. There’s something down here that you have to see to believe. Do you need any assistance, Sergeant?”

“No, Corporal, we have a handle on things. I’m clearing this ship for E-suits only until we can figure out what killed the crew. Can you transmit an image of what is down there?”

“Transmitting now.” Kirk pressed a few pressure switches inside his suit. An image of what he was looking at went live on everyone’s helmet monitors. A giant bubble filled the entire aft cargo compartment. Colors swirled on the surface of the seemingly transparent and empty orb. Kirk estimated that the bubble was roughly one hundred meters in diameter. Kirk sent Devlin to the starboard lift while he headed portside to make a video record of the object. Despite the bubble’s seeming transparency, Kirk could not see Devlin nor could Devlin see him as they ascended to the uppermost catwalks.

As Kirk and Devlin crossed the central walkway, they noted that none the cargo bay’s loading cranes supported the bubble. They completed their video survey and returned to the inner cargo bay area to make a second sweep of the bay. Then they secured samples from the body of the deceased crewmember for analysis before heading to the forward area of the ship. They deposited the samples in an orange bio-hazard bag which Devlin taped to the interior bulkhead of the passageway as they passed by the hatch.

The four remaining members of the boarding party picked up the samples on their way forward to meet with Sergeant Washburn. She had ordered the group to assemble on the observation deck just below the bridge. While waiting, Cpl. Kirk copied Cpl. Devlin’s video recording of his starboard ascent and played it back in split screen with his own portside recording. He made a mental note to obtain copies of all log entries regarding the object.

Sergeant Washburn and Cpl. McCall arrived shortly after the engineering and medical specialists. “Cpl. McCall and I have just finished reviewing the ships logs. Two weeks ago, the Malcolm Reynolds encountered an anomalous object and brought it on board. Before then they were experiencing normal operations. We’ve transmitted copies of the log back to the Avant Garde per Capt. Castle’s orders. Capt. Castle wants us to log everything we see and do. Vocalize all your thoughts. Do you think you can manage that, Kirk?”

Cpl. Kirk blushed. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure to do all my thinking out loud from now on.”

“That goes for all of you. Hold nothing back. Every observation, even if seemingly trivial, may help solve this mystery.”

“Sergeant?”

“Yes, Corporal?”

“I’d like access to all log references to the object.”

“Any specific reason?”

“Obsessive curiosity, mostly.”

“Very well. Captain Castle has assigned the task to you of figuring the thing out.”

Cpl. Kirk focused his attention on the incoming information while Sgt. Washburn handed out the rest of the assignments. The log showed a silvery ball floating in space. The captain of the Malcolm Reynolds ordered the crew to retrieve the object. They moved their meagre cargo into the forward area of the cargo bay, then they installed the isolation shield and brought it on board. After they sealed the outer hatch, an assessment team went in to determine if the orb had any value. The ship’s geologist took a core sample for examination by the assay lab. “Note to self – check assay lab for sample and assay results.”

The Assay Lab was in disarray. Several of the testing devices had experienced catastrophic failures. The assay technician lay on the floor, or at least what remained of him. Cpl. Kirk reported the corpse to Sgt. Washburn before proceeding with his survey of the damaged lab. He made his way to the back of the lab and pulled the data cards from the auto-logger. There was no guarantee that whatever caused the damage to the lab equipment hadn’t corrupted the data. He secured the remainder of the sample from the x-ray fluorescence spectrometer and took it with him to the BioMed Lab.

Cpl. Kirk stood in the open doorway of the Biology Lab watching the bustle as the three specialists analyzed samples taken from the dead freighter crew lining the hallway. He waited patiently for someone to take notice of him. Dr. Carson Beckett nearly walked into him before stopping. “Is there a problem, Corporal?”

Cpl. Kirk looked down at the woman standing in front of him. “I brought a sample to be analyzed. I think it’s organic, possibly living material. I just need confirmation.”

Dr. Beckett was intrigued. “If you’ll step aside, we can run your sample after I secure one from the hallway. Deal?” Cpl. Kirk nodded and backed up against the hallway bulkhead. He watched as Dr. Beckett shoved a large needle into a corpse and withdrew material from inside the body. She capped the needle and motioned for him to follow her to her station. Kirk tried to stay out of the way while he followed Dr. Beckett. He watched while she split her sample between the gas chromatograph, the mass spectrometer, and the automated bio-chemical analyzer. “Now, about your sample,” she said holding out her hand to receive it.

“I only want it tested by fluorescence spectrometry. It was the only undamaged device in the geology lab. I have the result of the geological assay. But now I want a biological assay done and the results sent to me. For your safety, please do not run any other tests on it.”

“Fine,” Dr. Beckett grunted while wiggling her fingers. “No other tests. But I still need the sample.”

Cpl. Kirk handed the sample vial over to Dr. Beckett and left the lab. His shift was almost over and Captain Castle was a stickler for observing the rules. He made his way back to the Avant Garde, arriving slightly ahead of his fellow Marines. He stepped up onto the platform and locked the lower half of his armor in position. Raising his arms and twisting his wrists unsealed the upper half and raised it above his head. Grabbing hold of two hand grips to the side of the platform activated a dumping mechanism that literally dumped him out of the lower half of his armor. Once he and his body armor were upright, he removed items that he had tucked inside various compartments of his “iron pants”.

Off to his right was a spiral staircase that led to an overhead walkway. From the walkway, he had access to the storage compartments in the shirt and sleeves of the body armor. He gathered every bit of data that he had obtained while on board the Malcolm Reynolds. From the upper walkway, he exited the armor room into a small ready room where he sank into his seat while waiting for the remaining members of his cell. Once the others had settled into their seats, Sgt. Washburn signaled that the cell was ready to debrief. Cpl. Kirk slipped the memory cards from the Geology Lab into slots in the arm of his chair as well as the cards with his visual records. From there, he transferred the information to the data core of the Avant Garde’s central computer.

Cpl. Kirk paid little attention to the 2^nd Lt. on the screen. He was busy trying to integrate all the gathered information into a cohesive timeline. The few words of interest to him were “light armor” and “full rotation”, especially the latter because his stomach was starting to grumble and he needed to use the head. He closed the app on his comm-link and folded it up just as the word “dismissed” hit his eardrums. Outside the ready room, Kirk entered a stall and contributed a fair amount to the water purification system before hanging up the vacuum hose. Back in the locker room, he changed from his thermal regulating body suit into his service uniform. While he was pulling up his green trousers, he felt something tapping against his back.

“You left this in the latrine, Corporal.” Kirk turned to face Sgt. Washburn, while zipping up his fly. She was holding his comm-link up to his nose.

Kirk reached up to take his comm-link. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said smiling.

“That’s Sergeant Ma’am to you, Corporal.” She released her grip on his comm-link and winked at him.

“Yes, Sergeant Ma’am. I will try to remember that in the future.”

Sgt. Washburn laughed and walked away while Kirk pulled on his boots. He was the last arrival in the mess, but someone had already filled a tray of food for him. Eating their meals together was a ritual. It was part of maintaining cohesion and trust within the cell. Everyone in the cell ate in silence, not wanting to think about the carnage on board the other ship. Kirk was too deep into the mystery of the sphere sitting in the Malcolm Reynolds’ cargo bay to manage a relevant conversation. By the time he finally poked his head up, he found that the others had left him behind to clear the table.

It would be another fourteen hours before Cpl. George Kirk could return to the Malcolm Reynolds, eight of which he would spend sleeping. He walked past the rec hall, or what passed for a rec hall for the Elite Marine Combat Unit assigned to the Avant Garde. He stopped then executed a one-eighty and went inside to the only Advanced Resistance Exercise Device not occupied. After spending several hours in heavy armor having your arms and legs moved for you by powerful servos, it was a good idea to remind them that they still functioned. He flashed his dog tag at the ARED’s scanner and it automatically set the resistance. The other marines had chips implanted, but his had a failure record of one hundred percent.

Sgt. Washburn kept a close watch on Kirk while he performs his reps on the ARED. Even after finishing her own workout, she stayed behind to watch him finish. She couldn’t figure out why a guy like him would want to be a grunt. He was smart. He could have been a scientist, a researcher, or even an officer. Instead he was the team “can opener” equipped with cutting tools and high voltage spark generators. She wasn’t sure if that was because the brass was afraid that he would hurt his teammates or himself if he carried real weapons. She could tell from the look of concentration on his face that he was trying to let go of his latest obsession – and failing miserably. “Care to talk about it?”

Cpl. Kirk paused his workout briefly. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. I have so many questions and all the answers are back on that ship.”

“So, go back.”

“I can’t. You know the rules. Mandatory personal time, then sleep.” Kirk pulled the wire ropes forward simultaneously so hard that you could hear the pistons’ complaints.

“But Capt. Castle gave you special dispensation in this matter to investigate the orb you found,” Sgt. Washburn reminded. Cpl. Kirk released the ropes and sat down on the bench behind him. She continued, “Where does it specify how or where you spend your free time?” Sgt. Washburn made her final pitch. “You can take me with you if you don’t want to go alone.” Ten minutes later, Kirk and Washburn were suiting up in light armor.

The scientists had gone back to the Avant Garde for a break, leaving the lab equipment alone to do their work. The two Marines had just entered the airlock when several fast-moving objects streaked by in the direction of the cargo bay. For a few seconds, the Malcolm Reynolds blinked out of existence then became solid again. After recovering their footing, Cpl. Kirk ran toward the BioMed Lab arriving just as the floating debris began to settle. He made his way to the x-ray fluorescence spectrometer and retrieved the sample. The scientists had divided it up and subjected it to other tests. Kirk could tell which tests they had run by the damaged equipment that he found. He pocketed the remainder of the sample and pulled the auto-logger card. Just as he was ready to leave, Sgt. Washburn arrived at the lab with Dr. Beckett.

“What have you done to my lab?” Beckett demanded.

“Nothing. You did this. I told you to only run one test and nothing else. You divided the sample and ran tests that I didn’t ask for. Forget using the Geo Lab. I found the sample in the only machine that didn’t suffer a catastrophic failure. Now, get out of my way.”

Sgt. Washburn pulled Dr. Beckett aside then followed Cpl. Kirk down the hallway to the Cargo Bay. “What was that all about?” she asked while he opened the hatch to the inner bay.

“I think that the bubble is alive. And I’m going to give it back what we took from it. I asked for a biological assessment using a single piece of equipment. I should have stayed and waited, made sure they didn’t do something stupid.”

“They were following their rules of investigation. Did you tell them why they shouldn’t run any other tests?”

“No. I didn’t.” Cpl. Kirk pulled open the hatch, walked to the ladder, and climbed down toward the cargo deck. Once he was clear, Sgt. Washburn slid down after him. He punched in the numbers to the first airlock door and moved quickly to the second. Washburn closed the door behind them while he stabbed at the number pad to the second door. She gasped when she saw the bubble floating in the aft portion of the cargo bay. It looked like the ball from a snow globe with colors swirling inside. “The short exposure to space must have frozen the outside. It was more fluid on the outside before.” Kirk pulled the sample from his suit pocket and opened the vial. He tipped it toward the orb. When it didn’t move, he pushed the vial forward giving the sample inside enough inertia to leave the vial when he pulled it back.

The small sample slowly drifted toward the globe spreading out along the glassy surface before slowly integrating with it. Cpl. Kirk smiled. “I’m sorry,” he said. He turned to Sgt. Washburn. “We need to let it go.”

“How do we do that?”

“We need to open the cargo bay door and use the net to eject the bubble. But first we need to locate the controls.”

“I grew up on a space freighter. The loading bay control room is over the main bay doors, which means that we have to climb.” Cpl. Kirk followed Sgt. Washburn over to the closest ladder and followed her up to the top level. Once inside the control room, she opened the bay doors and pushed the capture net out of the bay. The orb remained where it was. She rotated the net and lowered the support arms to their lowest position. When she retracted the net, it slid inside underneath the bubble. The slow movement of the netting from the floor to standing vertically in the rear of the aft cargo bay compartment nudged the slowly freezing bubble out of the cargo bay. Once it had cleared the bay and was a safe distance away, Sgt. Washburn closed the doors.

Back aboard the Avant Garde, Cpl. George Kirk sat at a table with Sgt. Zoe Washburn, Dr. Carson Beckett, and Capt. Richard Castle. Capt. Castle glared at Dr. Beckett. “One more time, Dr. Beckett. What exactly did Cpl. Kirk ask you to do?”

“Cpl. Kirk asked me to run a test on a sample that he found in the geo assay lab.”

“Which test?”

Dr. Beckett shifted in her seat. “He requested fluorescence spectrometry of the sample.”

“And?” Capt. Castle prodded.

“He said that I shouldn’t do any other tests, just that one.”

“Did you ask him why he didn’t want you to run any other tests?”

“No. I was busy trying to find out what killed the crew of the Reynolds.”

“And yet you took it upon yourself to run more than the single test that he had asked for.”

“The sample looked interesting. I didn’t see what possible harm could come from running a few extra tests.”

Capt. Castle turned his attention to Cpl. Kirk. “In your own words, Corporal.”

“Yes, Sir. Sargent Washburn sent me aft toward the cargo bay with Corporal Devlin. We found a dead crewman in the forward section of the bay. The aft section was airlocked with a security code, but it was easy to crack the codes. Inside the aft bay, Devlin and I found a large object that looked like a giant soap bubble. Devlin and I took video of the object as we scaled the cargo bay ladders. From the way some of the colored swirls seemed to follow us, I sensed it was watching us.”

“When Sarge declared the ship hostile free, we collected a sample from the deceased and went forward to help Sarge and Devlin finish searching for crew. When I entered the Geology Lab, I saw that something had destroyed most of the assay equipment. The only piece of equipment that wasn’t badly damaged was the fluorescence spectrometer programmed for inorganic material analysis. I took the sample up to the Biology Lab to get a second opinion. I wanted to know if it was alive.”

“Because I was antsy about the results, Sarge suggested that I go back and have a second look, see if the tests had finished. We arrived at the airlock in time to see bits of matter whiz past. A little while later the ship winks out. If we hadn’t been suited, we would have frozen to death. There was a bit of frost on our suits when it went solid again. That must have been what killed the crew. I took the sample back to the bubble and Sarge and I set it free. That’s the gist of what’s in my report, Sir.”

Dr. Beckett’s eyes widened. “Aren’t you going to ask him any questions?”

“No need, Doctor. It’s all in his report. Every detail you could ask for. All three thousand pages of it. What he saw. What he thought. What he did. Descriptions in great detail. Corporal Kirk is extraordinary. That’s why when he asked to investigate the bubble, I put him in charge. His mind doesn’t work like ours. He may have limited social skills, but his brain processes information on a level we can’t begin to imagine. We used to look at people like him as disabled. It took a long time to recognize his “disorder” as an evolutionary step forward.”

The Alliance (Don't Kill the Messenger)

I don't know why I picked the title I did for this little writing exercise. I'm trying to work on character development, so not much plot, but as usual, there is still a twist. Feel free to not like it.

The Alliance

In the midst of a well-ordered forest, suspended between two trees, stood a circle of woven branches now bare in the waning days. To a visiting Mundane, it was little more than an oddity in the woods. but to the locals, it was a gateway from the world of Arcane.

Elspeth Hunt, chosen by the elders to meet the Arcane messenger, was studying the wooden circle wondering how the magic worked. She wondered if it had something to do with the darkening days as the snows closed in on the bough. Beneath her hooded cloak, she carried a short sword and a knife. It was her skill with the sword that convinced the elders to select her to greet the messenger. She had arrived earlier while the sun was still high in the sky. The Arcane was late.

A white stone triangle lay against the black rock wall of an ancient volcanic cone. Behind it lay a portal to the world of the Mundane. Dylan True kept close to the rock wall as he approached the gate. He had taken great pains to disguise himself against attack from the creatures that lived within the sacred circle. On his head, he wore a carved wooden helmet that hid most of his face. Grapevine clung to the caked dung that covered his body. There was a scabbard hanging from his waist on his right side and a long knife strapped to his left thigh. He carried a full quiver of arrows on his back. Worried about what awaited him on the other side of the gate, he used his longbow to test the ground before stepping through into the forest.

Elspeth watched the beast sniff the air and slowly approach her where she waited unafraid. His taloned fingers reached out and ran gently down her cheek. She grimaced at the stench emanating from them as they curled beneath her chin. At first, she averted her gaze from the monster. “Look at me,” it growled. Elspeth responded with a defiant stare. Through the mask over his face she could see the yellow pallor of his skin and a pair of amber eyes that stared back studying her face. His sudden loud sigh was disconcerting. Elspeth reached for the short sword that she had hidden beneath her cloak. She was not dying without a fight.

Dylan released her chin and stepped back from the female they had sent to greet him. His voice croaked as he spoke. “Bah! They send a child to receive my warning. No one will hear it. We know how little Mundane men value the words of their youth and less so the words of their women. Go home, child; but be wary of the thieves and butchers who await you down the path.” Dylan turned and walked back to the gate. He turned again, paused to watch her as she walked down the path.

Suddenly, Elspeth turned and came running back toward the gate. Behind her, three men gave chase, but she managed to stay ahead of them. Dylan raised his bow and loaded an arrow. Taking careful aim, he felled one of the men. Elspeth turned moments before one of the men caught her and thrust her sword into his gut, twisting it as she drew it back out. A moment later a crossbow bolt whizzed past Dylan’s head striking a nearby tree. He grabbed Elspeth around her waist and carried her through the gate just as a second quarrel hurtled toward the open circle.

On the other side, Dylan set the writhing female down. “It’s not safe to take you back the way we came. Those men would kill us both. Nor can we stay here. If a Draugr catch the scent of you, you will be meat for its next meal. Come with me to a safe place while we find a way to warn your people of the danger.”

“I’m not a child. I can defend myself.”

“Back there? They would have killed us both and blamed me for your death. And here? You’ve obviously never faced a Draugr. They are lanky beasts full of teeth and talons. They would be on you before you could draw a sword or I nock my bow. Everything avoids them that can.”

“You’ve well described yourself, except for the leanness.”

“Your eyes deceive you,” Dylan said just before dragging Elspeth through a narrow opening in the rock face and smothering her with his horrid stench while pressing her back against the stone wall. She slid her hand down to the hilt of her sword, but gasped into his hand at the sight of the long snout sniffing the niche for prey. It felt about with one of its clawed arms before abandoning the cleft. After it gave up its search, Dylan led her out and away from the stone gate they had come through. Glancing back, Elspeth saw the creature crawl through into her world.

“We have to go back,” she struggled against his grip, attempting to pry his fingers loose from her wrist.

“We can do nothing for those men in the forest.” Dylan snarled. “And if we go back, we might die with them.”

“You could have closed the gate.” Elspeth was reaching for her sword as she spoke.

“I have no control over the gate. It will close in its own time. We must be at the next gate when it opens. If you want to save your people, you must trust me. I am not the beast you think I am. The Draugr will come back through that gate soon and if we are still here, it will attack and kill us. Please, come with me.” Dylan offered his hand.

Elspeth shook her head. “Go. I will follow.” Dylan took off at a slow run toward several large boulders. Elspeth followed close behind him managing to scale the rocky slope without losing her footing. At the crest of the hill, they followed a narrow path that wended its way through a dense woodland. A downward path led them to the base of a waterfall, where they stopped.

Elspeth watched from the weir while Dylan waded into the mere. He left behind a trail of muddied water as he closed in on the falls, soon disappearing into the rushing water. On the other side, he appeared in a small settlement. He disappeared inside a hut where he changed out of his wood and leather armor and wet clothes into dry clothes. He left the long bow and sword behind and after a brief conversation with another of his kind, he returned to the area behind the falls.

Elspeth started to run along the embankment toward the waterfall, when a stranger appeared. His teal blue garb clung to his tall, well-muscled torso and he wore strange ornaments on his forearms. Except for his yellow complexion, his amber eyes, and his cinnamon hair, he looked like a Mundane. Elspeth saw that he carried neither sword nor bow and sensing no threat, she approached him where he stood. At first, she stood silently within a few steps of his face, then feeling bolder, she asked, “have you seen a beastly creature? He entered the falls a short while ago. We were travelling together.”

Dylan watched from the rocky ledge that led to a passage beneath the waterfall as his companion ran up to where he stood. He stayed silent, assessing her speed and her intent. He almost broke into laughter over her question, but managed to stifle the impulse. “Who are you?” Elspeth stepped back. She had not expected his question and shuffled her feet trying to decide whether to answer or run away. “Well, child, do you have a name or not?”

“El...El...Elspeth,” she stuttered before recovering her poise. “I am Elspeth Hunt, Emissary of the Mundane. My companion was an emissary of the Arcane. Have you seen him? Can you take me to him?”

Dylan stepped down off the ledge. “And if I cannot?”

“Then I am lost,” Elspeth fingered the hilt of her sword. She considered threatening the stranger, but relented. “Please help me get back to my world. The gate is with a large stone circle that lies beyond the woods.” She pointed back the way they had come. “My family will be worried about me.”

“Oh, I doubt that. They sent you off on a dangerous task to meet with a stranger in the woods when they knew there were men who would attack and kill you. I’d say they weren’t expecting you to return at all.”

Elspeth grimaced at his words, then slowly it dawned on her. “How could you possibly know that unless you were there?” She stepped forward until she was staring up his nose. “Who are you?”

Dylan gripped her shoulders and laughed. He stared down into her eyes and smiled, waiting for her to step back. “I am your beastly creature, having shed my costume, and I have come to take you safely home, but only if I can trust you to keep silent.”

The Long Way Home

Conjuring a hole in the universe might have been a mistake, but it was the only way out of the wasteland that Harry found himself in. It was the darkness on the other side that caused him to hesitate. Especially the pair of black pools that stared back at him. Maybe where he was now was safer than whatever waited on the other side.

Harrison Chase woke up one day to puberty. Unlike other boys his age, his came with a special feature. Over the years he learned to master both his hormones and his magic powers. And all of that culminated in his being dropped into a radioactive wasteland. If he stayed, he might die. The same could be said if he leapt through that hole he just made.

While Harry stood there mulling his options, the black pools shrank and a set of sharp teeth appeared. The teeth slowly became part of a smile as lips formed around them. The dark pools were surrounded by emerald rings. The abyss snorted. The head of a dragon pierced the darkness and settled on the ground in front of him. “Are you lost?” the dragon hissed. “I can help you find your way home.”

Harry sighed. “I would really appreciate that.” He stepped forward. “Do you have a name?” Seeing the dragon’s hesitation, he quickly added, “so I know who to thank.”

“As it would happen, I am called Merlin of Mirkwood. And you would be?”

“Oh, yes, sorry. Harrison Chase, but my friends call me Harry.”

Merlin wrapped his claws around Harry and pulled him through to the other side of the hole. He set Harry down gently on top of a nearby mountain. “You might want to close that hole.” His claw tapped the ground beneath it.

Harry raised his right hand and closed the aperture breaking the link with where he had been. “Now, about getting me home?”

“Patience! Merlin does nothing in haste.” The dragon slowly lay his head against the cliff. “Climb on. I shall carry you to the place you need to be to return home.”

Harry hesitated. Trusting a dragon was risky business. “Well?” Merlin drawled. Harry climbed on the dragon’s back and took a seat between Merlin’s horns. The dragon lumbered ahead taking care not to lose his passenger. “Where did you say you were from? I need to know if I’m going to take you to the right spot.”

“I didn’t.” Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m from Earth.”

“Never heard of it.” Merlin stopped briefly. “Does it have another name?”

“It has a few. Terra. Gaia. Sol 3.” Upon hearing a name that he recognized, Merlin turned around and headed back in the direction from which they came.

“Now, Gaia, I have heard of. Why didn’t you say so to begin with? We’ve been heading in the wrong direction.” A short while later, Merlin stopped at the mountain where he picked up the young wizard. “Here we are. If you make a portal here, it’ll take you back to Gaia. In fact, I was headed there myself.”

Before Harry could cast a spell, a portal opened to a vast green meadow. Merlin carried Harry through into the bright sunshine. Once in the meadow, Merlin encouraged Harry to dismount. “Ah, that’s better. A real weight off my mind, if you get my drift.” Merlin’s voice was that off a gruff old man. And that is what Harry saw standing before him.

The old man was beardless but grey-haired. His wizened face was punctuated by his green eyes. “Have I done it wrong?” The old man took stock of his hands and feet. “Is there something wrong with my face perhaps?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting you to change.”

“Well, they hunt dragons around here. And I am rather fond of not dying any time soon.” He started walking across the expanse of the meadow. “Hurry, we need to get to the forest before nightfall.”

“Why?” Harry jogged to keep up with Merlin.

“Because it is dangerous to be out in the Elyssian fields at night. The trees will protect us from the wild spirits.”

“That makes no sense. Isn’t this Gaia?”

“Not yet. Still a way to go.” Merlin paused to allow Harry to catch up to him. Well, before sunset the duo reached the forest and followed a beaten path to a clearing. An ancient willow stood in the center. Merlin rapped on the bark. “It is I, Merlin of Mirkwood, and a friend asking for your mercy for the night.” The ancient tree rustled to life and gently raised each of them above the forest floor. “We’ll be safe here, Harry. She will protect us until morning’s light.”

While Merlin conversed with the willow in a strange tongue, Harry reclined on a branch and soon fell sound asleep cocooned by the willow’s vines. When morning came, a shrill whistle echoed through the forest. Harry startled awake only to discover himself bound to the branch. During his brief struggle to free himself, he realized that he likely would have fallen to his death had he not been bound. “Thank you, dear Willow.” Harry had no idea if the tree understood him. “Could you let me go now?”

“Patience, Harry. She will let us go when it is safe. The sun has barely risen this morn. And it takes time for the wild spirits to disperse.” And as promised, the willow released its grip, unwrapped its vines, and set them gently on the forest floor. A nearby quince offered its fruit and chatted with Merlin. Harry was surprised by the tree’s generosity. “Please don’t flatter that one, Harry. We scatter her seeds about as we nourish ourselves with her fleshy fruit. She is doing us no favor.”

Just as the sun rose fully over the horizon, it became a portal to their next world on the journey home. On the other side lay a landscape of steamy pools and barren rock. Merlin was a dragon again. “Come, Harry.” The great beast had bent down his head. “Let me carry you through this wretched place. But remember to stay still and quiet should we meet another creature here.”

Harry considered that good advice when they did indeed meet another creature. It stood as tall as the dragon, and had Merlin not taken care to shield his presence, Harry was certain that it would have plucked him off and eaten him. He listened intently to the conversation of the two beasts in a strange language that he somehow understood. They spoke of past times on Gaia when their kind had once ruled. The gryphon, for the beast had the head of an eagle, but the body of a lion, joked about the “ape uprising” that drove them out of that little paradise. And then Merlin journeyed on to the next portal.

The steaming pool gave way to blackness as they entered the next realm clothed in night. Harry would have welcomed some moonlight but there were only a few scattered stars. Merlin lumbered onward, letting loose an occasional roar to frighten away the glowing eyes of whatever crept toward them in the night. Harry couldn’t tell if his eyes were adjusting or the sun were rising as he could see what it was that Merlin was keeping at bay. They were miserable looking creatures. Harry would have to ask what they were when it was safe to do so.

Whatever they were, they did not like the sunlight as they all took refuge when it rose. Ahead of the travelers lay a sheer cliff wall. Harry found himself clutching the dragon’s horns as it climbed out of the crater they had been traversing. Feeling safe to speak, Harry asked his question. “What were those strange creatures?”

“They were goblins, and they would have eaten you. But they have no taste for dragons. They fear being eaten by us. That is why I roared so.” Satisfied with that answer, Harry lay back to nap on the slow-moving beast.

After a half day’s journey, they arrived at another crater. “Hold on tight, wizard.” Merlin leapt for the center of the crater and the two fell through to another world. This one was chill and inhospitable to dragons. Here, Merlin took on the form of the old man again. They walked ahead in silence as each exhale turned to snow. Their cloaks held back the freezing air over the distance to a stone castle coated in rime.

“We should rest here. A fire will keep us warm. When the embers die, it will be time to leave.” The old man led them to a small room furnished with a large fireplace. With a flick of his fingers, the log in the hearth burst into flame and the two lay near the roaring fire. As the fire died out, it began to crackle and pop. The noise woke the two sleepers who breakfasted on the fruit carried in Harry’s pack.

Merlin led Harry up the long circular stairway to the top of the castle keep. A vortex formed just outside the parapet. “Jump, Harry. Your home isn’t that much farther.” Their fall was a short survivable one with an uncomfortable landing in a corn field.

Harry picked himself up off the broken cornstalks and brushed the dirt off his clothes. “Are we there yet?”

“I am. But I have no idea where your home is on this rock.”

Harry followed the old man out to a familiar road. “I grew up on a farm like this. We raised dairy cattle. Had to grow a lot of corn and hay. Probably a good thing too when my magic talents began to show up.”

“Oh, how so?” Merlin asked as he altered his clothing. His walking staff became a pen that he tucked into his shirt pocket.

“Not a lot of neighbors to see what I was up to, for one. And I could also hide it from my mom. And my grandparents would have sent me away to a mental hospital or called in a priest.”

“Yes, I can see how that would have been a problem. And your father?”

“I’ve never met my father. I don’t really know much about him.”

“Your mother never talks about him? He must have hurt her something awful.”

“He left. She never heard from him again. He doesn’t know about me. After a while she stopped wondering.”

Harry stopped walking just outside the gate to an old iron fence surrounding a two-story farmhouse. Merlin continued through the gate and walked up the steps to the front door. He twisted the knob on the old-fashioned doorbell and waited. Harry just stared.

A woman came to the door and stepped out onto the porch. She hugged Merlin and then slapped him hard across his cheek. “How dare you come back here? Whatever made you think I would want to see you again? You abandoned me – you abandoned us!”

“To be fair, Lydia, your parents weren’t exactly fond of me. And I told you when we met that I couldn’t stay around.” Merlin paused for a moment. “What do you mean by ‘us’?” He turned just as Harry was walking up the steps.

“Hello, Mother. It’s good to see you looking well?”

“Merle, I’d like you to meet your son.” Lydia took hold of Harry’s elbow. “Harry, this is your wayward father.”

“We’ve met.” Harry put his arm around her waist loosening her grip on his elbow. “What do you say we go inside and have some tea?”

“I’ve just put on a pot of coffee.”

Den of Iniquity

Ramón and Lachlan had been friends for a long time. The look on Lachlan’s face as they stood across the street from the new place was foreboding. “What’s wrong, Lachie? You look paler than usual.”

“Don’t go in there. I mean it, Ramón. There’s something about the place...”

“Relax, Lachie. I checked the place out. It’s just a brothel. No one will care if a few of the girls go missing.”

“It’s not that. I’m more worried about us going missing.”

“When is the last time you got laid?” Ramón asked. Lachie frowned. “C’mon. Take a look. Let me prove that it’s safe. You don’t have to go in right away.” Ramón dragged Lachlan across the street and pushed him up the fire escape. When they reached the third floor, Ramón pushed ajar one of the windows.

Lachlan pressed his face up against the glass and watched the couple in the room having sex. Their grunts and moans leaked out through the opening that Ramón had made. Lachie thought about throwing open the sash and lunging into the room. A sudden wave of dread stopped him. He turned to Ramón, “you can go in there if you want. I’m leaving.” He leapt down to the alley and ran across the street. Ramón followed, laughing.

Edgar strode out of the darkness. “You crazy, man? Ramón finds this cherry bordello ripe for the picking and you don’t want any of it?” He shook his head and spoke to Ramón, “Where’d you find this loco vamp? Edgar was the one who clued Ramón in to the place.

“Don’t mind Edgar. It’s a free country. If you don’t want to go in for a bite to eat, that’s fine. I’ll catch you later.” Ramón slapped Lachlan on the back. “Maybe bring you some takeout,” he winked.

Lachlan watched as Ramón and Edgar crossed over to the bordello. Maybe Ramón was right. Maybe he was just being crazy as Edgar had claimed. He decided to have another look at the place, but this time from higher up, closer to the roof. He peeked into the third-floor window to see the couple still at it. They were in the same position as before, their grunts and moans maintaining the same rhythm as before. He found another room with the shades open on the fifth floor. Inside the room, another couple who looked remarkably like the third-floor couple were busy sucking each other off.

Lachlan decided to check out one more room and climbed up to the eighth floor. He raised the sash on the unlocked window to listen in on what sounded like another couple engaged in some seriously wet sex. Lachie parted the drapes to peek inside and recognized Ramón’s tattooed wrist as it fell to the floor. The creature inside was busy tearing out Ramón’s internal organs and had a mouthful of liver when it spotted Lachie peering in through the window.

It lunged toward him as he quickly withdrew his arms and head. As he backed up against the railing of the fire escape the creature slammed into an invisible barrier. It ripped down the drapes in anger before going back to its feast. Lachlan watched as Edgar entered the room and listened to him as he spoke to the beast. “You’ll have to share, love. The other pigeon wouldn’t bite.”

“Outside,” the monster croaked pointing to the open window.

A Bag of Old Bones

The old man coughed before raising his hand to call his son over to his deathbed. “It won’t be long now, Des. I have one last request.” He coughed again, reaching out with his frail hand for a glass of water to wet his lips. Desmond dutifully offered his father the straw. The old man had wasted away over the past few weeks. His skin was taut against his bones. His voice was low and hoarse when he spoke. “Promise me one thing, son. Promise me that no matter what happens, you won’t open that old safe up in the attic.”

“I promise, dad. I won’t touch the old safe.” Out of respect, and a modicum of fear of the old man’s wrath, Desmond agreed. He had done his best to keep the old man comfortable, to spend time with him, and to see to it that he didn’t make any changes to his will. None of his siblings paid the old man any attention. They were too busy with their own lives. Desmond had nothing better to do. He had recently lost the only job that he had when the local steel mill shut down. And all of the old man’s nurses found him insufferable, leaving Desmond the task of caretaker. He watched as the old man fell asleep and left soon after.

Desmond hadn’t really thought much about the safe until his father brought it up. When he was a child, he found it in the attic and had spent hours trying to open it. But he had only been playing at cracking the safe. “Maybe it’s time that I take a serious crack at it,” he muttered to himself as he walked down the hallway to his bedroom. He grabbed a flashlight and went up to the attic to examine the old safe. It took him a few minutes to locate the pull chain for the single light bulb in the end of the attic that held the safe. It was a strange safe, tall and thin, and rusty brown in color. The door had two combination dials equally spaced vertically and a rod connecting the two levers that disengaged the latches. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the two dials and the white-paint lettering on the door of the safe.

Desmond went back downstairs to the home office that he had set up and searched for information on the safe. After reading that the company was out of business and had been for nearly one hundred years, he searched for information on safe-cracking. He slipped back into his father’s bedroom and borrowed the stethoscope that hung near the old man’s bed. After several hours of turning the dials and getting nowhere, Desmond pounded on the safe in frustration. Beneath the removable dial was a keyhole. He popped off the other dial to discover another keyhole. He spent the next morning searching through the old man’s old office looking for anything that might be an old safe key. The closest that he came was finding a safe deposit box key to a local bank.

Desmond gathered together his signed power of attorney papers and the safe deposit box key and went downtown to the bank to see if the old man had put the lockbox keys there. Inside the safe deposit box, he found a copy of the old man’s will and a set of strange keys wrapped inside a parchment. Written on the parchment were a set of runes. He took the will, the parchment, and the keys and left the rest of the documents inside the box.

After a stop at the pharmacy, Desmond returned home in time to administer his father’s medication and bring the old man a cup of broth. As usual, Desmond read the newspaper to the old man while he sipped at the broth. He was quite happy that his father had managed to still hang on for another day. Desmond was in no hurry for the old man to die. The thought of being alone in the old mansion sent a shiver down his spine.

As Desmond read the recent obituaries, his father let out a small spit take. “Ha! So, the old shyster has kicked the bucket, has he?” The old man was referring to his lawyer who died suddenly in a car accident. “Good thing I changed the will when I did,” he said with a wink before going back to sipping his broth.

Desmond snapped the paper before continuing the list of names of the deceased. Desmond wasn’t sure if his father was serious about changing the will or if he was joking just to get a rise out of Des. After finishing the list of the deceased, Desmond turned his attention to the stock market pages. “Looks like your utility stocks have gone up again. The phone company stock recorded a split to keep the price down to where people can afford to invest. And your shares in the bank are currently paying dividends.”

“Good, good. That’d be more money for you to spend when I finally kick off.”

“I’m in no hurry for you to kick off. And I could spend your money now on things, but I’d rather not.”

“That’s because you’re a good son,” the old man grinned. “Now fetch me my specks. I’d like to take one more look at you, in case it’s my last.” Desmond handed the old man his glasses and sat on the edge of the bed while the old man looked him over. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Des. You’ve been such a blessing.” Desmond sat with his father until the old man fell asleep, then headed back to his office to attempt to decipher the parchment found with the keys in the safe deposit box. The internet wasn’t cooperating. There was no translator that allowed him to plug in the runes and come back with English words. He had to decode the runes one at a time.

When Desmond had finished, he tried to read the transliteration, but the document amounted to a lot of gibberish about “bodyes” and “lockes”. There were references to “cairns” and “hillocks” as well. Desmond shoved the parchment and the rough translation into a desk drawer and turned his attention to the keys. He thought it odd that there were four keys for two locks. The four brass keys were different in shape and size except for the ornate casting at the bow. The round shaft of each key had several square protrusions extending from it at various angles and heights. A standard skeleton key would not open the locks that these keys fit into.

Desmond pocketed the keys and grabbed his flashlight on the way to the attic. After trying each key into a lock until it turned, he pulled down on the connecting bar and then pulled out to open the door. It didn’t move. He felt around the front of the cabinet looking for hidden locks, then moved to the lock side of the door. Finding nothing there, he examined the hinge side and found two key slots. He fit the keys into the slots and turned them, then went back to the cabinet front, lowered the bar, and pulled again. This time the door came open.

A few minutes later the old man died, setting off a remote alarm at a monitoring station that summoned an ambulance to the house. The police also responded to the call and performed a search of the house looking for the old man’s heir. After a thorough search of the basement and first floor, the police slowly worked their way up to the attic. The police officer stared at the open safe and radioed for help. “We’ve got another dead body up here.” He poked at the gauze wrapping the skeletal remains. “No rush. It’s just a bag of old bones. Though for the life of me, I can’t imagine why anyone would lock it in a safe.” Then he made the mistake of turning his back on it. By the time the other officers arrived, the revenant had pulled the officer into the safe with it where he met the same fate that Desmond had earlier.

The Inn of the Sorrows

Morgwn hustled about the inn setting out the lanterns against the eventide. The sun was waning even this early past the noon hour. The innkeeper kept a careful watch over the young lass as she easily dodged the hands of the small contingent of soldiers passing through the woodlands. Most of them wanted little more than a fondle and a kiss from her, having long heard tales of woodland nymphs and the dangers of consorting with them.

The Inn of the Sorrows lay dead center of the woodlands along the road between the village and the fortified castle upon the highland. Those foolish enough to enter the woods before nightfall always found their way to the inn. Soon after the soldiers went to the stable to bed their horses down for the evening, a coach pulled up to the inn. Three wealthy travelers entered the Inn requesting a repast. As the soldiers filed back in, the new arrivals asked for quieter accommodation for their meal. The innkeeper kept a small area near the kitchen for such rude guests.

Darius sat quietly through the meal while his parents nit-picked over the quality of the various courses. He was well aware that the soldiers were likely better fed. He could smell the stew that the wench carried out to the men. She was slight of build, agile on her feet, and well-endowed. He could feel the pinch of his codpiece from watching her pass by.

After securing the horses and carriage in the stables, the coachmen came in for the night. Morgwn gathered up the food left unfinished in the serving bowls and brought it to the coachmen. The plates and spoons had already been set out on the long tables. Morgwn sat with the coachmen to help finish off the food, laughing with them as they told their tales of the young Darius and his misadventures. “’E’s a right handful. Does what ‘e wants. Good thing ‘e’s not my boy, I’d give him a good cuff.”

After they had finished their supper, the coachmen asked the innkeeper for rooms for the night. He led them upstairs while Morgwn cleared off the tables. She placed the dirty plates and spoons into an empty half-barrel set about for such purposes and carried the used dinnerware into the kitchen. Having finished the last of the wine, Darius staggered through the kitchen door. “Wench, you forgot my wine glass.”

“I assure you sir; I would have seen to it soon enough.” She glanced at him. “Well, bring it here.”

“Why don’t you come and get it? You’re the servant. I’m the master.”

She threw the dishrag into the wash barrel and shook off her hands. “Well, since you put it that way.” Morgwn rescued the wine glass from the officious lad and returned to her chore.

Darius followed her back to the washstand and wrapped his arms around her pressing his bloated codpiece against her ass. “You smell nice, like...”

“Like a pine forest?”

“Exactly. Like a pine forest after a fresh rainfall.”

Morgwn pushed his chin off her shoulder, only to have him dig his nose into the back of her neck. He brought a hand up to brush her hair away from her neck. His kisses were enough of a distraction, but when he grabbed her breasts and started to squeeze them, she threw the dishrag into the water and turned to face him.

Darius grabbed her cheeks and forced his tongue down her throat. He untied her bodice and pulled her dress off her shoulders exposing her breasts. She pushed him away and he staggered backwards. “How dare you, wench?!” He strode up to her and backhanded her across her cheek. He grabbed her throat and unbuttoned his codpiece.

Morgwn followed her head as he swung it toward the kitchen table, barely maintaining her balance as he forced her backwards against the edge of it. She placed her hands on the tabletop and slid herself onto it with her legs still dangling. She was through giving him chances to change his mind.

Darius forced another kiss on Morgwn, but this time she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed back. His hands pawed her breasts until they had formed stiff glistening peaks. He lifted her skirt to expose her loins and place his throbbing cock against her hole. With a swift thrust he entered her.

Morgwn leaned back as he pulled her knees up to his shoulders and thrust again, shoving his cock deeper. She wrapped her long fingers over the edge of the table to brace herself against his crude and graceless jabs. She had made a promise not to take advantage of any of the men who came to the inn. But there was nothing in her promise barring this crude brute taking advantage of her.

Morgwn wrapped her legs around Darius’s waist and pulled his head down to her chest forcing his mouth onto a weeping nipple. His slow clumsy pace quickened soon rivaling the pace of his racing heart. After his final thrust, he collapsed, panting and still rigid inside her. She fed him again from a weeping breast. “There now,” she spoke softly into his ear, “you feel ready to go again, don’t you?” He nodded yes.

“Take me outside,” Morgwn wrapped her arms around his neck as she spoke. Darius pried them off the table and stumbled to the garden door. She opened the shutter’s latch and they fell onto the ground outside. The orchard fruit had just started to ripen and its scent filled the air. The sounds of night serenaded them as Darius took up a slow and steady thrust. Morgwn rolled them over and threw off her frock. She rode him with wild abandon coming down hard against his hips. Every time he thought to object, she shoved a nipple into his mouth and he drank more of her sweet nectar.

Darius did not notice that Morgwn had given him over to others for the night. He did not hear the shutters close as she went back inside to finish her washing up. She was not there to see him slowly covered with vines from the ground. But she promised herself that she would visit with him again. He would be easy enough to find. She needed only to look for the log with a stiff branch rising in the air.

The Field Test

The sudden quake was unexpected. It had caused the premature collapse of an old hotel that crews had prepared for demolition. The crews had made the critical cuts to the buildings support beams but would not place the explosive charges until the demolition date. It was an incomplete collapse fortunately for the child trapped inside. No one had bothered to inform the squatters to stay out of the condemned building. Despite the chain link fence surrounding the old hotel, they had taken refuge from the cold night air inside the building. They were on their way out when the quake hit, but the boy had run back inside to retrieve something he had forgotten.

Homeland Protection had assigned Agent David Bruce to train a new product from AndroGen Corporation. They had developed a Search and Rescue Mechanism whose purpose was to go places too dangerous for humans. The collapsed building qualified. Agent Bruce sat across from the AI in the van as it pulled up to the site. AndroGen delivered the unit while he was away on vacation. As a joke, his fellow agents had commissioned it with his face and had sat it at his desk.

He gave it the name Elijah as a tribute to another detective with a robotic partner from one of his favorite novels. Elijah was in need of training to deal with humans. Agent Bruce wasn’t sure that he was the right person for the job. He had only been working with Elijah for a month. This was the first time he had the unit out in the field.

The local police were uncertain which of them to address when they saw Elijah and Agent Bruce emerge from the van. It wasn’t until Agent Bruce inserted the commlink into his ear that someone extended an introduction. “Hi. You must be Agent David Bruce. I’m Sergeant Hawkins, Fire and Rescue. We’ve been informed that a child may be trapped inside.”

“What do your scanners say?”

“There’s a definite heat source, but we can’t be certain.” He glanced at Elijah. “Is that the SaRM we’ve heard so much about?”

“I have no idea. Who’s been talking to you about SaRMs?”

“AndroGen has been trying to get us to buy one. They said Homeland already had one for dealing with dangerous situations. We’ll see how yours does.”

“He’ll get the job done, but he won’t like it.” He also wouldn’t hate it. In fact, Elijah would have no opinion whatsoever about the task.

Agent Bruce sent Elijah in, monitoring his progress as he snaked his way through the rubble toward the heat signature. Inside a large pyramidal space, Elijah located an eight-year-old boy. Several of the passages that Elijah had taken to find the young boy had collapsed behind him. Agent Bruce searched the building plans and located a passage that would take them to the building next door.

Elijah entered the building next door and took the stairs down to the basement. He found the passageway door and waited until Elijah was close to the outer wall of the collapsed structure before opening the door on the other side. He waved at Elijah and the boy. “Hurry up, come through. Don’t ask, just do it.” Both the boy and the android ran through into the basement hallway just seconds before an aftershock hit. Agent Bruce slammed the door shut and then escorted the two upstairs and out of the nearby structure.

The youngster tugged gently on Agent Bruce’s jacket. “Mister, how did know that door was there?”

Agent Bruce smiled at the boy and winked. “Magic,” he replied.

A Small Quest

The small band of adventurers had set up camp at the edge of the forest. They had built a sturdy lean-to against the trees to shield them overnight. A small campfire warmed the Paladin and the Ranger as they sat around eating their meagre provisions. The Thief stood watch in a tree branch above them listening in on their conversation.

They had come across the great grassy plain and would soon be following a poorly marked path through the dense woods. There were better marked paths, but they were wary of them. Robbers had waylaid them once already and they couldn’t spare to lose any more of their provisions. “I warned you about the public ways. Lucky for you, I was able to steal back some of our stuff.”

“Hah! Steal back, my arse! You just returned what you had stolen from us to begin with.” The Ranger slapped the Paladin hard on his back. “Not that it didn’t do good for us in the end, eh, Paladin?”

The Paladin stood his sword on end and rose up off the fallen log that he sat upon. “The Thief did as he was told, Ranger. He held on to our most valuable possessions and made himself scarce when trouble showed.” The Paladin threw the last of the kindling onto the fire. “It’s late and in the morrow, we enter the woods. I suggest we get some sleep.”

The Mage sat off from the small band worrying a spell. He had been practicing it since they left the village, but it never quite came together. The Paladin wandered over to the young mage and watched as he made another attempt at his conjuring. “Ahem!” The Mage started and looked disconsolately at the Paladin. “Did you not hear me suggest that we bed down for the night?”

The Mage shook his head. “I almost had it on that last try.”

“Perhaps you will do better after a night of rest. It would help if you would eat something as well.”

“I’ll eat in the morning. I promise.”

In the early morning hours while the others slept, the Thief set out to find fresh food. He harvested edible berries from a nearby bush. He refilled the waterskins from a nearby stream. And he scouted the path ahead of them through the forest.

While the Mage, the Paladin, and the Ranger availed themselves of a breakfast of berries and flatbread, the Thief reported on his early morning scouting. “The path ahead is passable until you encounter a patch of bramble. There are a few berry bushes along the way and evidence of small game. I saw no evidence of recent travel on the footpath. We should clear the woods by nightfall I should think.”

The small band marched single-file along the woodland path, hacking their way through the briars and dense underbrush. They stopped briefly to rest and finish off the berries. As promised by the Thief, they arrived at the other side just before nightfall. While the others were busy preparing the camp for the evening, the Thief surveyed the slope down to the small village.

The Thief then flew on toward the monastery on the hill where the small band of adventurers would meet with the Cleric. She would not accompany the travelers into the village as many humans considered ravens to be ill omens. She settled in her roost in the monastery content that she had brought the Cleric the help that he sought for the task that lay ahead.

Mad Dogs and Englishmen

The pack had been hounding the Englishman for the better part of twenty-four hours. The first cur tailed Jonathan Smythe home after a night of one too many pints of ale at the local tavern. The Cock & Fox Tavern was a five-block walk from his apartment house.

It had been a rough day for Jonathan. The convenience store where he clerked had experienced a robbery and two shots fired. A delivery driver in the stock room had suffered a graze to the leg and there was collateral damage to the store.

Jonathan’s boss had sent him home for the day and given him a week off with pay. The police would have the crime scene tied up for several days and items needed repair. The first few pints he drank to steady his nerves and calm down from the earlier fracas. The next round came as people recognized him as the clerk from the news. The final round was in celebration that the criminal had offed himself by crashing the van and flying through the windscreen.

Jonathan hadn’t noticed his tail as it slipped in through the door behind him. It watched him from a dark corner as he fumbled with his keys. Jonathan eventually gave up finding his mailbox key and stumbled up the three flights of stairs to his flat. A man stepped out of the shadows on the first floor and examined the mailboxes. Box number 402 bore the label ‘Jon Smyth’. The man grinned and let himself out the back door.

---

In the morning, Iris Spinch came downstairs to meet Lucy Morgen in the Manor kitchen for breakfast. Lucy was in a serious mood as she set about serving the breakfast that John had left warming in the oven. She poured out a fresh cup of coffee and set down a cup of tea for Iris.

“Destroying things, killing, is easy. Fixing things, making things better, is the real challenge. You have a talent for destruction, Iris. Let’s see if we can’t accomplish some good.” Lucy took a sip of her morning coffee.

Iris set down her teacup. “Are you asking me to atone for my sins?”

“No. You don’t set out to cause havoc. You just want to get on with your life. I’m asking you to find a way to use your talents to do more than just help yourself. It’s the price of living here – rent free, meals included – take it or leave it.”

“I haven’t a clue as to how I manage to cause so much trouble. I only know how to avoid getting nabbed when it happens. But this is a nice place... do I get to keep the room that I’m in? It’s a really nice room.” Iris started to stand up quickly, but Lucy’s hand intervened sparing the table and the breakfast dishes from destruction.

“Offhand, I’d recommend working on staying calm. Let’s finish our breakfast first, then we can work on ways to harness your special talents.”

Iris smiled, then dug into the plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage in front of her. She couldn’t remember that last time that she had been full. Well, actually, it was last night. She piled the food on her plate. The meal consisted of boneless smoked pork chops, mashed potatoes, carrots, and peas. She emptied the serving bowls when she went back for seconds. She even went so far as to lick the plates clean, much to the dismay of her hosts. Except now they were her housemates.

Iris took her time savoring the bacon and the sausage. She salted and peppered the scrambled eggs before digging into them. She made a point of alternating bites and savoring the mix of eggs and sausage, or eggs and bacon, or even bacon and sausage. She sipped her tea to cleanse her palate between bites. It was one glorious game of forkfuls.

Lucy watched Iris eat while sipping on her large mug of coffee. She wasn’t nearly as hungry as she should have been. She was satisfied with a cup of yogurt topped with fresh blueberries, and her coffee. “In the meantime, how would you like a job?”

“Doing what?”

“We could use someone to help out at the office. There will be spending money and a car, assuming you can drive.”

---

In the morning, a dog stood watch at each door to keep an eye on their quarry. Jonathan woke with a nasty hangover. After downing some ibuprofen with his morning cup of tea, he felt the need for a morning jog. A few blocks later he turned back. It was then that he noticed the stray dog. Jonathan reached out to pat it on the head, but it growled a steady slow back of the throat growl that convinced him not to touch it.

As he gathered up his mail in the lobby, Jonathan spotted another dog peering in through the back exit to the parking lot. He shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and walked up the three flights of stairs to his apartment. After sorting his mail, he popped open is laptop and read his email. The store manager had written to confirm the length of his time off with pay.

News of the incident had reached his family and friends back home in Hull. They had sent him some frantic emails that he took the time to answer. “I’m fine,” he wrote. “My boss gave me time off with pay to recover while the police finish the investigation and the store can be reopened.” “Mum, how are the corgi’s doing? Some dog was growling at me the other day. Strangest thing as I’ve never had that happen before.” “Uni is on break for the summer. They don’t all have frat houses. Probably best. There’s a pub just down the street from my flat. I wish the building had a lift. I had to climb three flights rat-arsed after all the free pints last night.”

Just as Jonathan was finishing his lunch, the local police called asking him to come downtown to the station to sign an official statement before they closed the file on the case. As he left his apartment building, he noticed several dogs across the street that followed him the two blocks to the bus stop. While at the police station, he took his time reading over the documents before signing the statement. He didn’t really get a good look at the robber’s face at the time, only the clothes. It was enough for the police to consider his description as a positive identification.

Jonathan made a few stops before heading home. He wandered over to the store to see what condition it was in. There were long strings of crime scene tape and boards covering holes in broken glass. It was still a mess from yesterday’s shooting. The manager had lowered the metal gates, locking the place up tightly. From the store, he took a bus to the tavern to grab something to eat.

---

Lucy drove Iris in to the office and spent the morning explaining how to operate the various equipment. Iris was more tech savvy than Lucy expected and quickly connected the office to her personal accounts on the internet. Seeing that Iris had settled in, Lucy went back to her office to listen to her voicemail messages and read her email.

Iris was curious about the news coverage of the previous day’s mayhem. She searched for videos related to the robbery and the ensuing police chase to watch. The most recent report identified the perpetrator as a man who had recently lost his job and was heavily intoxicated at the time. “Poor man. I wonder how you really died.” He had clearly been through a window, possibly by defenestration. And some force had blown a hole through the van’s driver-side front window. To Iris, the glitch was noticeable, but the reporters and police were oblivious to it.

Iris bided her time surfing the internet when she came across the video of a man who looked an awful lot like John Smith. He looked so much like John that he could pass for his twin brother.

“Lucy, come watch this!” She paused the video and pulled the timer back to the beginning. Lucy sighed and walked over to Iris’ desk. Iris turned her monitor so Lucy could see and hit play. The news video about the convenience store robbery played for a few minutes before Iris paused it and zoomed in on a man’s face. “Isn’t that John?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, but it does look a lot like him.” A few minutes later, the phone rang. The owner of the Cock & Fox was asking for John. “He’s out of the office. What’s this about?” After listening for a few minutes, Lucy smiled and hung up the phone. “Grab your things. It’s time to see a man about a dog, or rather, a pack of dogs.”

Jonathan Smythe was at his wit’s end by the time Lucy Morgen showed up with Iris in tow. The strays made his walk home from the pub into a living hell. They barked at him, growled at him, nipped at his heels, and harassed him in every conceivable way. He ran the last block home and was sitting with his back against the door when Lucy knocked. At first, he tried pretending that he wasn’t home, but Lucy keep knocking. “I know you’re in there. We really need to talk.”

“Go away. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone.”

“I think that I can help you with your dog problem. Please let me in.” Lucy could hear the sigh behind the door while he came to peer out the peephole. A few minutes later, he unbolted the door and let the two women inside.

“What’s it gonna cost me to get rid of the problem?”

“Nothing.” Lucy nodded toward the man’s dining table where his laptop sat. “May I? I need to show you something that should help explain.”

Jonathan glanced over at his laptop, then the floor, then finally Lucy. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

Lucy sat down at the table and quickly brought up the online advertisement for ‘Smith and Morgen’. “I’m afraid that you are a victim of mistaken identity.” She showed Jonathan the photo of John Smith. “You could be twins.”

Jonathan sat down hard enough to cause the chair to creak. “I still don’t understand.” He gripped the laptop and studied the two faces. “This is why the dogs are following me? Because I look like him?” Lucy nodded. “But why would they be following him?” Lucy grimaced. She didn’t want to explain anything that she felt he didn’t need to know.

“We’ll have to ask them, she quipped. “We can pull them off you long enough to find out who their master is. And the best part is that you won’t have to leave your apartment.” Lucy looked at Iris. “Could you manage for a few minutes to wear his face?”

Iris smiled. “It looks like a face that could get me free drinks. I could probably wear it all night.”

“Ahem!” Jonathan stood up. “What do you mean by ‘wear his face’? That doesn’t sound good.”

Lucy smiled. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Iris is a whiz with make-up. She can pass herself off as just about anyone. We might have to borrow some clothes to pull it off – just to pass the sniff test. We’ll get them back to you when we are finished.” Jonathan calmed down and led the two women into his bedroom to shop his closet for a suitable outfit.

Iris went through the clothes hamper looking for clothes that reeked of the man. She pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt and pulled them on over her shorts and tank top. Then she grabbed her bag and went into the bathroom. A little while later, she came out looking very much like a woman wearing stage makeup. Lucy had spent the time convincing Jonathan that the resemblance would be good enough to fool the dogs. “It’s really important that you turn off you lights as if you were going out for the night. They need to be convinced that Iris is you.” Jonathan nodded and went about shutting off the lights.

Halfway down the middle stairs, Iris altered her appearance into a more convincing looking Jonathan Smythe. By the time the two emerged out the back door, Lucy had ramped up her special sight. The couple walked down the alleyway behind the apartment building and the nearby houses. They met a dozen dogs with bad attitudes.

“Is this all of you? Or are there more?” Lucy addressed the biggest dog there. “You can drop the pretty face, Iris. It’s time to let these mongrels know we’ve led them down the garden path. And if they ask nicely, they get to know by whom.” Lucifer started in the back of the pack, slowly bouncing each animus back to its home dimension until only the big dog remained.

“Seems we’ve been barking up the wrong tree in more ways than one.” The large dog had transformed into a heavy muscular man who mistakenly believed that he could intimidate Lucy. “It’s you who been sending our kind back. It’s you who needs warning.”

Lucy laughed. “Your kind are lucky that I only send them back. I’ve done worse things to others. I’ve no tolerance for bloodsuckers.” Lucy started to glow in the dark back alley. “Let me enlighten you. I am Lucifer. If your kind come here, they must behave themselves. Those who don’t behave I send back. Those like you...” Lucy sighed. “...get a choice between apologizing and leaving or ceasing to exist. Your call.”

Back at Jonathan Smythe’s apartment, Iris was busy stripping off his dirty laundry and availing herself of his shower. Lucy relayed an apology from the owner of the pack to Jonathan for the day’s harassment. She also handed over a recompense for his distress. “I’m sorry it isn’t more, it’s all he had on him.”

Jonathan smiled and took the cash. “It’ll do.”