Wow! Week 26, officially the half-way point! I can't believe I made it this far. Woo! I need to celebrate!
I have a bit of a story behind this week's post, but I don't really have the time to post it now, so I'll have to get to it at some other time. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this week's story.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Edward Scott and the Star Academy: Acceptance
I looked at the letter again. I just couldn’t believe it. I looked up at my mother, and she just nodded her head, smiling. She was holding a letter of her own, along with a catalogue of some sort. There were tears running down her eyes, and I think down mine too. I read the letter again, for the third time; just to be sure I wasn’t missing something.
The Valusian Imperial Star Academy
Office of the Headmaster, Master Greelux Ambridon
Dear Mr. Edward J. Scott, Jr.,
We are pleased to enounce that you have been accepted at the Valusian Imperial Star Academy. You have been awarded a special scholarship we offer to one special student from one of the many outlying planets every year. You’re mother should have received a packet explaining the benefits of the school, along with a personal transporter. It is set to take you to the satellite orbiting the planet you call Saturn on September first. We look forward to educating you on the wonders of the universe.
Greelux Ambridon
Headmaster
I couldn’t get over it. It was like something out of a bad Harry Potter rip off. And the Valusian Imperial Star Academy? The Valusian Empire was the setting for my dad’s novels. A trilogy of sci-fi books that were just breaking out of obscurity when he… well, Mom and I were never really sure what happened to him. One day he was there, the next he wasn’t. Mom always assumed he was dead, but there was no evidence of that. There was no evidence of anything.
And now this letter. It had to be a bad joke. I looked over at my mother who, just like the letter said, was looking at a catalogue. It had some fancy lettering on the cover that read ‘Valusian Imperial Star Academy, You’re Child’s Path to the Stars.’
“What the heck is this, Mom?” I said to her, pointing to the catalogue with the letter. “Is this supposed to be some kind of joke? Because if it is, it’s sick.”
Mom wiped away some of the tears running down her face. She looked over at me and stared at the letter, and I think I saw a smile flicker on her lips briefly.
“No, Eddie,” she says, “it’s not a joke. It’s real. It’s all real.”
“Come on,” I say, getting angrier. “The Valusian Imperial Star Academy? Dad’s setting for his sci-fi books? What, am I supposed to be like the hero in his books, the only human in the Empire, destined to save the galaxy? It was all made up, Mom, just a set of books he wrote.”
Mom started crying again, and had to use a tissue to stop her self and blow her nose. What the heck was wrong with her? I mean, it was true that she still loved Dad, and that she sometimes teared up when she was thinking about him. But this? You might think she just found out Dad was… dead? What, exactly, did that letter of hers say? I reached over to grab it, and she took snatched it away before I could.
“Honey,” she said. “You’re dad’s books, they weren’t just fiction. He wasn’t making anything up in those stories. He was writing about things that actually happened to him. He just changed the name of the main character so it wasn’t him, to make it easier to sell.”
“What?” I say. “That’s not possible.”
“It is possible,” she said. “I can show you.”
She stood up and headed towards the basement. I followed, wondering what she could show me down there that I hadn’t already seen. It’s not like I’ve never been to the basement. We walk down the stairs and she heads over to a corner. I’ve been to that corner before; it’s where we keep most of dad’s stuff including the laptop he wrote his books on. I didn’t see anything unusually or different about it now. Then, Mom did something.
I’m still not quite sure what it is she did. I mean, I know what actions she took, sure. She pulled out Dad’s laptop and turned it on. How it turned on with out being plugged into the wall, I had no idea at the time. But more amazing was what came next. She typed in a password into the log on screen, and the wall opened. I don’t mean, like, it opened up like there was a secret door or something, no, I mean a tear opened up in the wall, like it just wasn’t there. And beyond that, inside a small room, was something out of a science fiction novel’s worst dream.
The walls looked like they were made out of chrome, and there were tubes running out of them at random intervals. Some went back into the wall, and the rest ran to some strange equipment on the floor or ceiling. I couldn’t see much more than lots of blinking lights, but I could hear humming and quiet beeping, and the smell of ozone filled the air. Mom stepped through the opening, and I followed, jaw open, in awe at what I was seeing.
Off to one corner was a desk, made of the same chrome that the walls were made of, and covered with what looked like several computers, all connected to one screen. Mom walked over to it and touched the screen with the palm of her hand. It turned on, and a voice came out of the walls.
“Welcome back, Jessica,” it said. It sounds echoy and kind of metallic, though not the emotionless robot voice of classic sci-fi. “It has been a long time since you’ve been here.”
“It has, Zero-One,” Mom said, removing her hand from the screen.
“I see a boy with you,” the voice continued. “Scans indicate he shares your DNA as well as that of Master Alex. I take it, then, that this is Edward. He must be of age now, and Master Alex’s belief that he has been accepted at the academy. You would not be here otherwise.”
Mom looked like she was going to tear up again. “You’re correct, Zero-One. He just got his acceptance letter today.”
“Mom?” I say, looking at her. “What is this?”
“Honey,” Mom says, and waves her arm around the whole room. “This is you’re father’s AI, Zero-One. He used it to keep in touch with the Valusian Empire. It was a gift to him by the Emperor himself.”
“Greetings, Edward,” the voice said.
“Uh, hi,” I said and waved, though I wasn’t quite sure where to look.
“Am I correct is assuming that you have been accepted at the Valusian Imperial Star Academy?” Zero-One said.
“Yeah,” I reply, “that’s what the letter I got said. I’m still having a hard time believing it, though. I mean, I grew up thinking all this was just part of my dad’s fiction.”
“I understand,” Zero-One said. “I aided you’re father in the creation of those novels. It was a way for him to make money for your family, and protect you at the same time. I can assure you, however, that the events depicted in those novels were real. I am real. Before he disappeared you’re father programmed me to aid you when you came of age to be accepted in the academy. I am to go with you to school and guide you through Valusian culture and life.”
“Seriously?” I said. “Mom, okay, so I believe, this is all real. Zero-One was in dad’s books, the last one where Dash Adams uses the AI to trick the Galfurian’s into surrendering to the Valusians despite the fact that they were winning, thus ending the war that had been raging through the whole trilogy. And the description of Zero-One in the books matches this exactly, down the the voice. But, still, you can’t seriously be expecting me to go to a school that’s in a whole different galaxy!”
“Solar System,” Zero-One said.
“What?” I reply.
“A whole different Solar System,” Zero-One explained. “The Valusian Imperial Star Academy is in this galaxy, just a different solar system.”
“Whatever,” I said, getting angry. “It’s not just down the block, or even across town, Mom. We’re talking another planet all together.”
“But it’s an amazing opportunity,” Mom said. “Plus, it’s difficult to turn down.”
“What do you mean?” I say. “Seems pretty easy. I just don’t go.”
“It is not as simple as that,” Zero-One says. “There are other considerations. The Empire does not take well to scholarship winners turning them down.”
“Besides,” Mom said. “Are you really telling me that you’re going to turn down the opportunity to travel to another planet, meet real aliens and fly space ships?”
“Fly space ships?” I ask, suddenly becoming interested. It never occurred to me that if this were all real, I’d get to see real aliens. The aliens I’ve read about several times in my dad’s books.
“Oh, yes” Zero-One said. “Basic shuttle piloting is taught to all students at the Academy.”
I look at my mom and then at the room. I look back at Mom, who nods and smiles. I think about things for a few moments and then decide that going to outer space is a pretty big opportunity, and one that’s hard to refuse.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m in. What do I need to do.”
The next several weeks are spent getting me ready. Zero-One informs me that while most of the events in Dad’s books are factual, many of the details were made up or made more exciting to make it more book like. Real life, even adventurous real life, is seldom as exciting as a book or movie. Part of my getting ready is getting the materials I need. These include books and a school uniform. He shows me the books I’ll need to buy on the computer screen in his room, and informs me that it is possible to buy them and download them into his memory.
I ask him where am I going to get Valusian money from, and I think the computer actually laughed at me. Apparently, Dad received a substantial sum of money as a reward from the Emperor. I, as his inheritor, am basically wealthy. So, buying the books is a snap. I even get them translated into English. Zero-One has me start on Valusian 101 right away, and I start learning how to speak the strange language. I feel like I need two tongues to speak it, but Zero-One informs me that Valusians only have one tongue.
My uniform is another matter. I have to order that to be waiting for me at the station in orbit around Saturn when I arrive on September 1. I ask how come September? I mean, that’s when school starts here, but we’re talking about a whole other world. Isn’t that a massive coincidence?
“It is, in fact,” Zero-One answered me. “A highly improbable one, as you suspected, but nothing more than that.”
I decide to let it go. I have another question I need answered. Zero-One has mentioned several times over the weeks getting ready that he will be going with me, as will these digital books I purchased. I ask him, how is that possible, when he’s the size of my bedroom?
“Simple,” Zero-One states.
Then, the beeping that is always in the background of his room increases and the room practically hums. A few seconds later, a slot opens in the wall, one that I never noticed before, and out pops something that looks like an iPhone. I pick it up. It’s slightly warm to the touch, and the screen is blank. I gently touch it with my finger.
“Greetings, Master Edward,” a voice that sounds like a smaller, faster version of Zero-One comes out of the phone’s speakers. “I am Zero-One-A. I will be your personal, portable AI on your time at school. All of your books are programmed into my memory.”
“Cool,” I said. “So, Zero-One-A is a real mouthful, mind if I just call you Zee?”
“Whatever you wish, Master Edward,” Zee said.
“Fantastic, Zee it is,” I say with a big grin on my face.
The last few days are spent packing and getting to know Zee. It turns out that he doesn’t have much of a personality. I learn from him and Zero-One that new AI’s don’t, but they develop one over time, based on the person that owns them. Zee will develop a personality to match mine. I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.
Finally, the big day arrived. According to Zee, the little disk with a small display screen on it that came with my acceptance letter is my personal transport device. It will teleport me (and only me) and some of my personal possessions that I am holding onto, like suitcases, to the station at Saturn. The device I have isn’t a real transport so much as a homing beacon of some sort, but keyed to my DNA or something. I never did totally understand.
I also didn’t understand the science behind the teleporter. I asked if it was like Star Trek, and both the AI’s laughed at me. They tried to explain the technology to me, something about mini wormholes, but I just didn’t get it. All I understood was that I was going to be sucked into some kind of space tunnel and then spit out the other end. They both assured me that it would not be painful, or even jarring, but their descriptions made me think otherwise. I didn’t have time to think about it, however.
A few days before departure date the two AI’s wanted me to start carrying around that transport disk with me all the time. So, I had been keeping it in my pocket. When the big day arrived, I had been asking questions about what it would feel like to be sucked through a hole to the other side of the solar system when the disk started vibrating. I pulled it out and a count down timer was flashing on the screen, 5 minutes. I rushed up to my room to grab my stuff and started yelling at Mom to let her know I was about to disappear. She came in to my room to give me a quick, tear filled hug and a good luck.
“I know you’re going to do great, honey,” she said. “Here, take this. It belonged to your father, and I know he’d want you to have it now.”
She pulled out a little piece of jewelry. It was a necklace with something that looked like a dog tag around the end. On it was the symbol of the Valusian Empire, a red star rising over a Saturn-like planet in black. On the back was something that looked like a bar code, like you find on cereal boxes or stuff you buy form the grocery store. I nearly cried at getting this. It was my dad’s, and now it’s mine.
“Time’s almost up,” Zee said. He was hanging from my shoulder over my chest on a special case that he and Zero-One set up for me. “You must grab your luggage, Master Edward.”
I had been trying to get him to just call me Ed, or even Eddie like my best friends do, but he wasn’t having that. Master Edward was all he would call me. Something about it not being appropriate for an AI to be on close friendly terms with their masters. I rushed over to my luggage, and grabbed the handles. I looked up at my mom and saw her still crying.
“I love you Mom,” I said. “I’ll find a way to send you a message, through Zero-One.”
And then the transporter disk started beeping again, more frantic and louder than before. Before I could even ask what was up, I suddenly felt like I was being turned inside out. I had about a second of that sensation before the world righted itself again, and I fell to my knees, sure I was about to throw up. Then, I looked around me. I found myself standing in what looked like a Train Station, with platforms and large grooves in the floor, only no tracks. It was all indoor, and mostly made out of steel or some other kind of metal. And then I saw the people walking around me, and realized that I wasn’t on Earth anymore.
There were all kinds of strange aliens. Something that looked like a squid in a power suit made its way by me, followed by two beings that looked like people with dog faces. Kind of like that Egyptian god, Anubis. Some people looked basically human, but with odd features, like purple skin, or no ears and pointy things coming out of their fore head, or four arms. Other’s looked completely alien, like this one guy (at least, I think he was a guy) that looked like an orange weight lifter with a hammer for a head. And this other creature that looked exactly like a centaur, except that the hair was green and the skin was ash gray.
“Welcome to Saturn Station, lad,” I heard a voice say, and turned around to see someone that looked completely human. He was older, with gray hair and a mustache, and wore some kind of uniform, a blue jumpsuit with gray stripes down the arms and legs, and a matching ball cap. “You must be Edward Scott.”
“Uh,” I stumble, unsure what to think. I wasn’t expecting to see a human here. “Yeah, I’m Edward.”
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, extending his hand. I took it and we shook. A completely human thing to do. “My name is Charles, and I’ll be helping you get to your ship. Don’t see too many humans here, I’m always glad to see them when I do. You got your forms?”
I’m caught off guard by the sudden change of subject, but Zee comes to my rescue by beeping and displaying the invitation and the permission slip from my mom on his screen. Charles bends over and looks at the screen and nods.
“Good AI you got there,” he said. “These are exactly what you need. Let’s get you to your ship, shall we?”
I nodded, and Charles led me down the platform and through a set of doors. Through the doors I found myself in what looked like a mall food court. There were at least a dozen restaurants that I could see, most of which looked like fast food places, though the food they served was odd. Some I wasn’t even sure I would call food, despite the strange beings eating it.
But what caught my attention the most was the large window that looked out into space. It was black, as you would expect, but it wasn’t empty. There were hundreds, no thousands of stars, and other things too, clouds of some sort, all strange and wonderful colors. And best of all was the view of Saturn. From this window, it was just a corner of the planet. It was a fantastic shade of orange, with the rings circling it, making it a truly awe inspiring sight. It all struck me at once. I was really here. I was in outer space.
“Awe inspiring, isn’t it?” Charles said. “I never get tired of seeing that view, and I’ve worked on this station for thirty years now.”
We pause for a moment at the window just to enjoy the view, and it truly is amazing. I could just stare out this window for hours. Charles nudges me in the shoulder, however, reminding me that I’m going somewhere.
“Come on, let’s get you to your ship,” he said, and we start making our way towards another door.
“Wait,” I say, suddenly remembering something. “I need to pick up my uniform.”
“Oh,” Charles said, and he pulled out a blocky looking device about the size of a paper back book from his pocket. It was his AI, I realized. “Well, it looks like we’ve got time before the ship to the Academy is due to leave, so I’ll take you to the store your uniform is at.”
He lead me through a different arch way to a big hallway. There were more shops down this hall, but they were not food places. Some seemed like normal stores, a barbershop and gift stores. But others didn’t make any sense to me. Something that looked like a wax for octopuses and another that looked like it sold eyeballs. I didn’t get any of it, but I didn’t want to ask Charles. He seemed to think we were running out of time before we needed to get to my ship.
A few moments later, we stopped at what was obviously a clothing shop. I couldn’t read the sign above the shop, but under it was words in several Earth languages. I recognized English, Spanish and what looked like either Chinese or Japanese, I wasn’t sure. One other language I didn’t recognize but Charles told me was German was there as well. The English sign read ‘Dural’s Clothing for All Species.’
“Welcome, Charles,” I heard a voice that sounded like someone gargling gravel say. “And who’s your friend? It looks like another native to the solar system.”
“He is,” Charles said. “This is Edward Scott, and he’s been accepted at the Valusian Imperial Star Academy.”
“Oh, really?” the voice said. Then, I saw who was speaking. It looked like the voice suggested, a large boulder about eight feet tall, with arms and legs. I didn’t see any discernable eyes, but there was defiantly a mouth. “Well, welcome, Cadet Scott. My name is Dural, and I’m guessing you’re here to get your uniform.”
I only nodded. The rock made a rumbling sound that I assumed was laughter.
“Not used to non-Earth life forms, huh?” it said. I nodded again. “Well, you’ll get used to it at the Academy, let me tell you. Here, let me get your uniform.”
He disappeared behind a counter and reappeared a moment later with a box. He handed it to me and twisted his mouth hole into what appeared to be a lopsided frown. I’m guessing he was trying to smile, because other wise, he was snarling at me, and I didn’t want to be eaten by a rock. I opened the box and looked inside.
The uniform was impressive. It consisted of a white shirt and black tie, and dark blue vest over that, and some navy blue pants with a black stripe down the side. A long, navy blue jacket also came with it, with round black patches on the shoulders and elbows, and black stripes at the cuffs and across the waist. Across the left breast was a gray square with some strange symbols in it. Dural told me that was my name in Valusian. On the right shoulder was a patch that had the planet Earth on it, and below that was another gray box with more symbols. Earth, Dural told me it read. It also came with a set of black boots that came up to my calves. They looked like they were made out of leather.
“There’s a warm weather jacket, too,” he said. “I’ll send it to your ship in another box.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Can I get dressed right now?”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Charles said, and both of them lead me to a dressing room, where I changed. I looked at myself in the mirror. Other than my long, black hair, which went down to my shoulders, I looked rather dashing. At least, I thought so. When I exited, both Dural and Charles told me the same thing, though I suspected that Dural was just saying that because I was his customer. All dressed, Charles and I finally left for the ship that would take me to the Academy. That’s when the trouble started.
We had just barley left the clothing store when there was an explosion. Charles and I were knocked down, and the wind was blown out of me. A few moments later, as the smoke cleared, I scrambled up and started coughing. I turned to look, and saw a group of people in armor. They looked almost completely human, but it was hard to really tell, because their faces were covered by helmets. They were also covered in armor, and sporting what was very obviously weapons, though they looked like something from a Saturday morning cartoon show rather than real weapons. One of them fired in my direction, though, a red beam that scared the wall next to me, making me realize that they were real enough.
“Death to the Humans,” one shouted.
“Death to Edward Scott!” the others shouted behind them. I saw that there were six of them total. And they apparently all wanted me dead. I froze in terror.
As I watched, things seemed to slow down. The six armored beings with guns all looked my way and aimed their weapons my way. A few brought them to their shoulders, but most just held them up to their waist. Then, there was a flash of blue and the next thing I knew I was being carried down a side hallway that I never noticed before. Things moved back to normal speed, and I realized I was being carried, by Charles. For an old man, he was pretty strong, and fast. We were running down a hallway that didn’t seem to have any thing in it, except lights on the wall.
A few seconds later, there were more of those red laser things, complete with buzzing noises. Each time they hit the floor or the wall, they left scortch marks.
“Who are they?” I shouted.
“Galfurians,” Charles replied as we ran. “They have it out for the Valusian Empire, and for some reason, really hate humans, even though we’re not officially a part of the empire. I think it has something to do with your father.”
“You know my father?” I cry, suddenly more interested in that tidbit of information rather than the men shooting at us.
“Not personally,” Charles said. “But everyone has heard of him, and as a result, you. You’re a celebrity, Edward. Didn’t your AI tell you this?”
“I was unaware of current galactic events,” Zee said before I could ask it the question.
“No time for this now, anyway,” Charles said, and rounded a corner. We were back in the food court. He skidded to a stop in front of a stall, and tossed me over the counter to one of those strange octopus looking things, who caught me with three of it’s tenticals. “Watch that for me, will you, Tred? Galfurians on my tail.”
The octopus just waved, and pushed me under the counter. There was a hole in the counter, and so I twisted my self around to get a look at what was going on outside. A few seconds later, the six guys in armor came rounding the corner, and stopped, looking around for us. I see then that their legs are very not human. Their knees bend backwards, and the boots the wear end in two, long toes. Then, I see Charles, over by the window. He’s jumping up and down and waving his arms.
“Hey! Furballs!” he shouts. “Over here!”
Without hesitation, all six Galfurians turn and fire at Charles. None of them aim, which is a blessing, because they are all lousy shots. Charles dives behind something that looks exactly like a couch and the shots mostly bounce harmlessly off the material the windows are made of, or scorch the floor and even the couch itself. Charles pokes his head up, but a few more shots sends him back for cover. This is ridiculous, I realize. He’s going to end up killed, and hiding me under the counter will only work for so long.
I think back to my dad’s books. The Galfurian’s were trying to over through the Empire in them, and Dad’s main character put a stop to it by killing their king. But, before getting there, he discovers that the hostile aliens have a killer weakness. Water. Salt water, like that found in the ocean, is like acid to them. I squirm around, and the squid-guy holding me down puts one large eye towards me.
“Stop,” he says in heavy accented English. “They will hear you.”
“We gotta stop them,” I say, ignoring him. “Do you happen to serve ocean water here?”
“What?” the eye blinks.
“Salt water. Ocean water,” I repeat.
“Well, of course,” he says, as if I just asked if the station had air to breath.
“Great, I want the tallest, largest glass you can get me,” I say.
“I don’t think now is really the time for a drink,” the squid says.
“Just get me one,” I say. “I’ve got a plan.”
The eye blinks again, and then disappears. A few seconds later, its back, and a new tactical brings me a tall, large water bottle, inside of which is what appears to be the dirtiest water I’ve ever seen. I look back out the hole at the aliens with the guns, and I realize that the water probably won’t do much good unless I can get them out of their helmets.
“Zee,” I whisper, and place the little computer up against the hole. “Can you tell me if there’s a way to get those helmets open?”
A few seconds later, Zee quietly beeps, and I turn him around. Text flashes across the screen.
“Affirmative, Master Edward,” the text reads. “The helmets are all controlled by a radio signal. Send the right signal, and the helmets open.”
“Do you know that signal?” I ask hopefully.
“Negative,” reads the text, and my heart falls. This plan isn’t going to work.
“Stay down, monkey boy,” one of the Galfurians says, and sends another shot towards the couch.
Then, to my surprise, another one opens it’s helmet. It pulls back and retracts into the armor, and I get a good look at the face. It’s feminine, to be sure, but it looks very much like a cat. The others follow suit, and I see a mix of female and male cat faces.
“The boy is around somewhere,” the first one to open her helmet says. “Start sniffing him out.”
They start doing just that, smelling the air. I realize that, as close as I am, they will be able to find me pretty quickly. Without thinking, I crawl out from under the counter, open the bottle of water, and jump up onto the counter top.
“Hey, cat face!” I cry, and spray some water into the faces of the nearest two. Their faces burn, and their drop their weapons, bringing their hands up to their faces. I fling water and two more, dropping them just as quickly. The remaining two, however, are quick to act, and start firing at me. I duck back behind the counter, but in doing so, I throw up the bottle. As I watch, the bottle is hit by a bolt of laser, and explodes, salt water flying everywhere.
I ducked my head between my legs and closed my eyes, expecting the cat people to jump over and start blasting me to shreds any second now. In stead, I heard more gun fire, this time sounding more like an electric buzz than the laser guns did. After a few seconds of fire, I heard two drops, followed quickly by four more. Then, there was foot steps, and a voice calling to me from above the counter.
“Edward?” the voice said. It was Charles. “Are you okay down there, lad?”
I open my eyes and see the old man looking back at me. He has a small pistol in his hand, the barrel of which is still smoking. I smile and leap up, giving him a hug. He laughs and hugs me back with one arm.
“Just like you’re father,” he says. “He always acted before thinking, too. But, thanks to your action with the salt water, I was able to take our attackers down.”
“Who are you?” I say. “I thought you worked for the station.”
“Oh, that’s just a cover,” he says. “I’ve been assigned here to make sure that you make it to the Academy in one piece. Looks like a good thing I was here, too.”
I look over the counter at the dead cat aliens. I’ve never seen dead people before. I feel sick, drop out of Charles’ hands, and promptly throw up. He pats me on the back until I finish, then hands me a cold, wet towel that I use to clean up. I see the octopus thing clean up my vomit as Charles leads me away, and wonder vaguely if that will end up on the menu. I try not to think more on it lest I throw up again.
I look up at Charles. I have a lot of questions. What does he know about my dad? Just who is he, really? Send by whom to protect me from what? What the hell is really going on here? He sees the look in my eyes and pats me on the back.
“Come on, lad,” he says, returning to the kind old man I first met when I got here. “Let’s get on the ship. It’s a long trip to the Academy, and we’ll have plenty of time for you to ask your questions on the way.”
I look down at the floor. I was scared. Someone tried to kill me. Six someones. And now I was in the care of a strange old man that was far more than he appeared. All so I can go to school in a space academy?
“Charles?” I say.
“Yes, lad?” he says.
“I’m scared,” I say.
“Good,” is his only reply. “Good.
The End
The Valusian Imperial Star Academy
Office of the Headmaster, Master Greelux Ambridon
Dear Mr. Edward J. Scott, Jr.,
We are pleased to enounce that you have been accepted at the Valusian Imperial Star Academy. You have been awarded a special scholarship we offer to one special student from one of the many outlying planets every year. You’re mother should have received a packet explaining the benefits of the school, along with a personal transporter. It is set to take you to the satellite orbiting the planet you call Saturn on September first. We look forward to educating you on the wonders of the universe.
Greelux Ambridon
Headmaster
I couldn’t get over it. It was like something out of a bad Harry Potter rip off. And the Valusian Imperial Star Academy? The Valusian Empire was the setting for my dad’s novels. A trilogy of sci-fi books that were just breaking out of obscurity when he… well, Mom and I were never really sure what happened to him. One day he was there, the next he wasn’t. Mom always assumed he was dead, but there was no evidence of that. There was no evidence of anything.
And now this letter. It had to be a bad joke. I looked over at my mother who, just like the letter said, was looking at a catalogue. It had some fancy lettering on the cover that read ‘Valusian Imperial Star Academy, You’re Child’s Path to the Stars.’
“What the heck is this, Mom?” I said to her, pointing to the catalogue with the letter. “Is this supposed to be some kind of joke? Because if it is, it’s sick.”
Mom wiped away some of the tears running down her face. She looked over at me and stared at the letter, and I think I saw a smile flicker on her lips briefly.
“No, Eddie,” she says, “it’s not a joke. It’s real. It’s all real.”
“Come on,” I say, getting angrier. “The Valusian Imperial Star Academy? Dad’s setting for his sci-fi books? What, am I supposed to be like the hero in his books, the only human in the Empire, destined to save the galaxy? It was all made up, Mom, just a set of books he wrote.”
Mom started crying again, and had to use a tissue to stop her self and blow her nose. What the heck was wrong with her? I mean, it was true that she still loved Dad, and that she sometimes teared up when she was thinking about him. But this? You might think she just found out Dad was… dead? What, exactly, did that letter of hers say? I reached over to grab it, and she took snatched it away before I could.
“Honey,” she said. “You’re dad’s books, they weren’t just fiction. He wasn’t making anything up in those stories. He was writing about things that actually happened to him. He just changed the name of the main character so it wasn’t him, to make it easier to sell.”
“What?” I say. “That’s not possible.”
“It is possible,” she said. “I can show you.”
She stood up and headed towards the basement. I followed, wondering what she could show me down there that I hadn’t already seen. It’s not like I’ve never been to the basement. We walk down the stairs and she heads over to a corner. I’ve been to that corner before; it’s where we keep most of dad’s stuff including the laptop he wrote his books on. I didn’t see anything unusually or different about it now. Then, Mom did something.
I’m still not quite sure what it is she did. I mean, I know what actions she took, sure. She pulled out Dad’s laptop and turned it on. How it turned on with out being plugged into the wall, I had no idea at the time. But more amazing was what came next. She typed in a password into the log on screen, and the wall opened. I don’t mean, like, it opened up like there was a secret door or something, no, I mean a tear opened up in the wall, like it just wasn’t there. And beyond that, inside a small room, was something out of a science fiction novel’s worst dream.
The walls looked like they were made out of chrome, and there were tubes running out of them at random intervals. Some went back into the wall, and the rest ran to some strange equipment on the floor or ceiling. I couldn’t see much more than lots of blinking lights, but I could hear humming and quiet beeping, and the smell of ozone filled the air. Mom stepped through the opening, and I followed, jaw open, in awe at what I was seeing.
Off to one corner was a desk, made of the same chrome that the walls were made of, and covered with what looked like several computers, all connected to one screen. Mom walked over to it and touched the screen with the palm of her hand. It turned on, and a voice came out of the walls.
“Welcome back, Jessica,” it said. It sounds echoy and kind of metallic, though not the emotionless robot voice of classic sci-fi. “It has been a long time since you’ve been here.”
“It has, Zero-One,” Mom said, removing her hand from the screen.
“I see a boy with you,” the voice continued. “Scans indicate he shares your DNA as well as that of Master Alex. I take it, then, that this is Edward. He must be of age now, and Master Alex’s belief that he has been accepted at the academy. You would not be here otherwise.”
Mom looked like she was going to tear up again. “You’re correct, Zero-One. He just got his acceptance letter today.”
“Mom?” I say, looking at her. “What is this?”
“Honey,” Mom says, and waves her arm around the whole room. “This is you’re father’s AI, Zero-One. He used it to keep in touch with the Valusian Empire. It was a gift to him by the Emperor himself.”
“Greetings, Edward,” the voice said.
“Uh, hi,” I said and waved, though I wasn’t quite sure where to look.
“Am I correct is assuming that you have been accepted at the Valusian Imperial Star Academy?” Zero-One said.
“Yeah,” I reply, “that’s what the letter I got said. I’m still having a hard time believing it, though. I mean, I grew up thinking all this was just part of my dad’s fiction.”
“I understand,” Zero-One said. “I aided you’re father in the creation of those novels. It was a way for him to make money for your family, and protect you at the same time. I can assure you, however, that the events depicted in those novels were real. I am real. Before he disappeared you’re father programmed me to aid you when you came of age to be accepted in the academy. I am to go with you to school and guide you through Valusian culture and life.”
“Seriously?” I said. “Mom, okay, so I believe, this is all real. Zero-One was in dad’s books, the last one where Dash Adams uses the AI to trick the Galfurian’s into surrendering to the Valusians despite the fact that they were winning, thus ending the war that had been raging through the whole trilogy. And the description of Zero-One in the books matches this exactly, down the the voice. But, still, you can’t seriously be expecting me to go to a school that’s in a whole different galaxy!”
“Solar System,” Zero-One said.
“What?” I reply.
“A whole different Solar System,” Zero-One explained. “The Valusian Imperial Star Academy is in this galaxy, just a different solar system.”
“Whatever,” I said, getting angry. “It’s not just down the block, or even across town, Mom. We’re talking another planet all together.”
“But it’s an amazing opportunity,” Mom said. “Plus, it’s difficult to turn down.”
“What do you mean?” I say. “Seems pretty easy. I just don’t go.”
“It is not as simple as that,” Zero-One says. “There are other considerations. The Empire does not take well to scholarship winners turning them down.”
“Besides,” Mom said. “Are you really telling me that you’re going to turn down the opportunity to travel to another planet, meet real aliens and fly space ships?”
“Fly space ships?” I ask, suddenly becoming interested. It never occurred to me that if this were all real, I’d get to see real aliens. The aliens I’ve read about several times in my dad’s books.
“Oh, yes” Zero-One said. “Basic shuttle piloting is taught to all students at the Academy.”
I look at my mom and then at the room. I look back at Mom, who nods and smiles. I think about things for a few moments and then decide that going to outer space is a pretty big opportunity, and one that’s hard to refuse.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m in. What do I need to do.”
The next several weeks are spent getting me ready. Zero-One informs me that while most of the events in Dad’s books are factual, many of the details were made up or made more exciting to make it more book like. Real life, even adventurous real life, is seldom as exciting as a book or movie. Part of my getting ready is getting the materials I need. These include books and a school uniform. He shows me the books I’ll need to buy on the computer screen in his room, and informs me that it is possible to buy them and download them into his memory.
I ask him where am I going to get Valusian money from, and I think the computer actually laughed at me. Apparently, Dad received a substantial sum of money as a reward from the Emperor. I, as his inheritor, am basically wealthy. So, buying the books is a snap. I even get them translated into English. Zero-One has me start on Valusian 101 right away, and I start learning how to speak the strange language. I feel like I need two tongues to speak it, but Zero-One informs me that Valusians only have one tongue.
My uniform is another matter. I have to order that to be waiting for me at the station in orbit around Saturn when I arrive on September 1. I ask how come September? I mean, that’s when school starts here, but we’re talking about a whole other world. Isn’t that a massive coincidence?
“It is, in fact,” Zero-One answered me. “A highly improbable one, as you suspected, but nothing more than that.”
I decide to let it go. I have another question I need answered. Zero-One has mentioned several times over the weeks getting ready that he will be going with me, as will these digital books I purchased. I ask him, how is that possible, when he’s the size of my bedroom?
“Simple,” Zero-One states.
Then, the beeping that is always in the background of his room increases and the room practically hums. A few seconds later, a slot opens in the wall, one that I never noticed before, and out pops something that looks like an iPhone. I pick it up. It’s slightly warm to the touch, and the screen is blank. I gently touch it with my finger.
“Greetings, Master Edward,” a voice that sounds like a smaller, faster version of Zero-One comes out of the phone’s speakers. “I am Zero-One-A. I will be your personal, portable AI on your time at school. All of your books are programmed into my memory.”
“Cool,” I said. “So, Zero-One-A is a real mouthful, mind if I just call you Zee?”
“Whatever you wish, Master Edward,” Zee said.
“Fantastic, Zee it is,” I say with a big grin on my face.
The last few days are spent packing and getting to know Zee. It turns out that he doesn’t have much of a personality. I learn from him and Zero-One that new AI’s don’t, but they develop one over time, based on the person that owns them. Zee will develop a personality to match mine. I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.
Finally, the big day arrived. According to Zee, the little disk with a small display screen on it that came with my acceptance letter is my personal transport device. It will teleport me (and only me) and some of my personal possessions that I am holding onto, like suitcases, to the station at Saturn. The device I have isn’t a real transport so much as a homing beacon of some sort, but keyed to my DNA or something. I never did totally understand.
I also didn’t understand the science behind the teleporter. I asked if it was like Star Trek, and both the AI’s laughed at me. They tried to explain the technology to me, something about mini wormholes, but I just didn’t get it. All I understood was that I was going to be sucked into some kind of space tunnel and then spit out the other end. They both assured me that it would not be painful, or even jarring, but their descriptions made me think otherwise. I didn’t have time to think about it, however.
A few days before departure date the two AI’s wanted me to start carrying around that transport disk with me all the time. So, I had been keeping it in my pocket. When the big day arrived, I had been asking questions about what it would feel like to be sucked through a hole to the other side of the solar system when the disk started vibrating. I pulled it out and a count down timer was flashing on the screen, 5 minutes. I rushed up to my room to grab my stuff and started yelling at Mom to let her know I was about to disappear. She came in to my room to give me a quick, tear filled hug and a good luck.
“I know you’re going to do great, honey,” she said. “Here, take this. It belonged to your father, and I know he’d want you to have it now.”
She pulled out a little piece of jewelry. It was a necklace with something that looked like a dog tag around the end. On it was the symbol of the Valusian Empire, a red star rising over a Saturn-like planet in black. On the back was something that looked like a bar code, like you find on cereal boxes or stuff you buy form the grocery store. I nearly cried at getting this. It was my dad’s, and now it’s mine.
“Time’s almost up,” Zee said. He was hanging from my shoulder over my chest on a special case that he and Zero-One set up for me. “You must grab your luggage, Master Edward.”
I had been trying to get him to just call me Ed, or even Eddie like my best friends do, but he wasn’t having that. Master Edward was all he would call me. Something about it not being appropriate for an AI to be on close friendly terms with their masters. I rushed over to my luggage, and grabbed the handles. I looked up at my mom and saw her still crying.
“I love you Mom,” I said. “I’ll find a way to send you a message, through Zero-One.”
And then the transporter disk started beeping again, more frantic and louder than before. Before I could even ask what was up, I suddenly felt like I was being turned inside out. I had about a second of that sensation before the world righted itself again, and I fell to my knees, sure I was about to throw up. Then, I looked around me. I found myself standing in what looked like a Train Station, with platforms and large grooves in the floor, only no tracks. It was all indoor, and mostly made out of steel or some other kind of metal. And then I saw the people walking around me, and realized that I wasn’t on Earth anymore.
There were all kinds of strange aliens. Something that looked like a squid in a power suit made its way by me, followed by two beings that looked like people with dog faces. Kind of like that Egyptian god, Anubis. Some people looked basically human, but with odd features, like purple skin, or no ears and pointy things coming out of their fore head, or four arms. Other’s looked completely alien, like this one guy (at least, I think he was a guy) that looked like an orange weight lifter with a hammer for a head. And this other creature that looked exactly like a centaur, except that the hair was green and the skin was ash gray.
“Welcome to Saturn Station, lad,” I heard a voice say, and turned around to see someone that looked completely human. He was older, with gray hair and a mustache, and wore some kind of uniform, a blue jumpsuit with gray stripes down the arms and legs, and a matching ball cap. “You must be Edward Scott.”
“Uh,” I stumble, unsure what to think. I wasn’t expecting to see a human here. “Yeah, I’m Edward.”
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, extending his hand. I took it and we shook. A completely human thing to do. “My name is Charles, and I’ll be helping you get to your ship. Don’t see too many humans here, I’m always glad to see them when I do. You got your forms?”
I’m caught off guard by the sudden change of subject, but Zee comes to my rescue by beeping and displaying the invitation and the permission slip from my mom on his screen. Charles bends over and looks at the screen and nods.
“Good AI you got there,” he said. “These are exactly what you need. Let’s get you to your ship, shall we?”
I nodded, and Charles led me down the platform and through a set of doors. Through the doors I found myself in what looked like a mall food court. There were at least a dozen restaurants that I could see, most of which looked like fast food places, though the food they served was odd. Some I wasn’t even sure I would call food, despite the strange beings eating it.
But what caught my attention the most was the large window that looked out into space. It was black, as you would expect, but it wasn’t empty. There were hundreds, no thousands of stars, and other things too, clouds of some sort, all strange and wonderful colors. And best of all was the view of Saturn. From this window, it was just a corner of the planet. It was a fantastic shade of orange, with the rings circling it, making it a truly awe inspiring sight. It all struck me at once. I was really here. I was in outer space.
“Awe inspiring, isn’t it?” Charles said. “I never get tired of seeing that view, and I’ve worked on this station for thirty years now.”
We pause for a moment at the window just to enjoy the view, and it truly is amazing. I could just stare out this window for hours. Charles nudges me in the shoulder, however, reminding me that I’m going somewhere.
“Come on, let’s get you to your ship,” he said, and we start making our way towards another door.
“Wait,” I say, suddenly remembering something. “I need to pick up my uniform.”
“Oh,” Charles said, and he pulled out a blocky looking device about the size of a paper back book from his pocket. It was his AI, I realized. “Well, it looks like we’ve got time before the ship to the Academy is due to leave, so I’ll take you to the store your uniform is at.”
He lead me through a different arch way to a big hallway. There were more shops down this hall, but they were not food places. Some seemed like normal stores, a barbershop and gift stores. But others didn’t make any sense to me. Something that looked like a wax for octopuses and another that looked like it sold eyeballs. I didn’t get any of it, but I didn’t want to ask Charles. He seemed to think we were running out of time before we needed to get to my ship.
A few moments later, we stopped at what was obviously a clothing shop. I couldn’t read the sign above the shop, but under it was words in several Earth languages. I recognized English, Spanish and what looked like either Chinese or Japanese, I wasn’t sure. One other language I didn’t recognize but Charles told me was German was there as well. The English sign read ‘Dural’s Clothing for All Species.’
“Welcome, Charles,” I heard a voice that sounded like someone gargling gravel say. “And who’s your friend? It looks like another native to the solar system.”
“He is,” Charles said. “This is Edward Scott, and he’s been accepted at the Valusian Imperial Star Academy.”
“Oh, really?” the voice said. Then, I saw who was speaking. It looked like the voice suggested, a large boulder about eight feet tall, with arms and legs. I didn’t see any discernable eyes, but there was defiantly a mouth. “Well, welcome, Cadet Scott. My name is Dural, and I’m guessing you’re here to get your uniform.”
I only nodded. The rock made a rumbling sound that I assumed was laughter.
“Not used to non-Earth life forms, huh?” it said. I nodded again. “Well, you’ll get used to it at the Academy, let me tell you. Here, let me get your uniform.”
He disappeared behind a counter and reappeared a moment later with a box. He handed it to me and twisted his mouth hole into what appeared to be a lopsided frown. I’m guessing he was trying to smile, because other wise, he was snarling at me, and I didn’t want to be eaten by a rock. I opened the box and looked inside.
The uniform was impressive. It consisted of a white shirt and black tie, and dark blue vest over that, and some navy blue pants with a black stripe down the side. A long, navy blue jacket also came with it, with round black patches on the shoulders and elbows, and black stripes at the cuffs and across the waist. Across the left breast was a gray square with some strange symbols in it. Dural told me that was my name in Valusian. On the right shoulder was a patch that had the planet Earth on it, and below that was another gray box with more symbols. Earth, Dural told me it read. It also came with a set of black boots that came up to my calves. They looked like they were made out of leather.
“There’s a warm weather jacket, too,” he said. “I’ll send it to your ship in another box.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Can I get dressed right now?”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Charles said, and both of them lead me to a dressing room, where I changed. I looked at myself in the mirror. Other than my long, black hair, which went down to my shoulders, I looked rather dashing. At least, I thought so. When I exited, both Dural and Charles told me the same thing, though I suspected that Dural was just saying that because I was his customer. All dressed, Charles and I finally left for the ship that would take me to the Academy. That’s when the trouble started.
We had just barley left the clothing store when there was an explosion. Charles and I were knocked down, and the wind was blown out of me. A few moments later, as the smoke cleared, I scrambled up and started coughing. I turned to look, and saw a group of people in armor. They looked almost completely human, but it was hard to really tell, because their faces were covered by helmets. They were also covered in armor, and sporting what was very obviously weapons, though they looked like something from a Saturday morning cartoon show rather than real weapons. One of them fired in my direction, though, a red beam that scared the wall next to me, making me realize that they were real enough.
“Death to the Humans,” one shouted.
“Death to Edward Scott!” the others shouted behind them. I saw that there were six of them total. And they apparently all wanted me dead. I froze in terror.
As I watched, things seemed to slow down. The six armored beings with guns all looked my way and aimed their weapons my way. A few brought them to their shoulders, but most just held them up to their waist. Then, there was a flash of blue and the next thing I knew I was being carried down a side hallway that I never noticed before. Things moved back to normal speed, and I realized I was being carried, by Charles. For an old man, he was pretty strong, and fast. We were running down a hallway that didn’t seem to have any thing in it, except lights on the wall.
A few seconds later, there were more of those red laser things, complete with buzzing noises. Each time they hit the floor or the wall, they left scortch marks.
“Who are they?” I shouted.
“Galfurians,” Charles replied as we ran. “They have it out for the Valusian Empire, and for some reason, really hate humans, even though we’re not officially a part of the empire. I think it has something to do with your father.”
“You know my father?” I cry, suddenly more interested in that tidbit of information rather than the men shooting at us.
“Not personally,” Charles said. “But everyone has heard of him, and as a result, you. You’re a celebrity, Edward. Didn’t your AI tell you this?”
“I was unaware of current galactic events,” Zee said before I could ask it the question.
“No time for this now, anyway,” Charles said, and rounded a corner. We were back in the food court. He skidded to a stop in front of a stall, and tossed me over the counter to one of those strange octopus looking things, who caught me with three of it’s tenticals. “Watch that for me, will you, Tred? Galfurians on my tail.”
The octopus just waved, and pushed me under the counter. There was a hole in the counter, and so I twisted my self around to get a look at what was going on outside. A few seconds later, the six guys in armor came rounding the corner, and stopped, looking around for us. I see then that their legs are very not human. Their knees bend backwards, and the boots the wear end in two, long toes. Then, I see Charles, over by the window. He’s jumping up and down and waving his arms.
“Hey! Furballs!” he shouts. “Over here!”
Without hesitation, all six Galfurians turn and fire at Charles. None of them aim, which is a blessing, because they are all lousy shots. Charles dives behind something that looks exactly like a couch and the shots mostly bounce harmlessly off the material the windows are made of, or scorch the floor and even the couch itself. Charles pokes his head up, but a few more shots sends him back for cover. This is ridiculous, I realize. He’s going to end up killed, and hiding me under the counter will only work for so long.
I think back to my dad’s books. The Galfurian’s were trying to over through the Empire in them, and Dad’s main character put a stop to it by killing their king. But, before getting there, he discovers that the hostile aliens have a killer weakness. Water. Salt water, like that found in the ocean, is like acid to them. I squirm around, and the squid-guy holding me down puts one large eye towards me.
“Stop,” he says in heavy accented English. “They will hear you.”
“We gotta stop them,” I say, ignoring him. “Do you happen to serve ocean water here?”
“What?” the eye blinks.
“Salt water. Ocean water,” I repeat.
“Well, of course,” he says, as if I just asked if the station had air to breath.
“Great, I want the tallest, largest glass you can get me,” I say.
“I don’t think now is really the time for a drink,” the squid says.
“Just get me one,” I say. “I’ve got a plan.”
The eye blinks again, and then disappears. A few seconds later, its back, and a new tactical brings me a tall, large water bottle, inside of which is what appears to be the dirtiest water I’ve ever seen. I look back out the hole at the aliens with the guns, and I realize that the water probably won’t do much good unless I can get them out of their helmets.
“Zee,” I whisper, and place the little computer up against the hole. “Can you tell me if there’s a way to get those helmets open?”
A few seconds later, Zee quietly beeps, and I turn him around. Text flashes across the screen.
“Affirmative, Master Edward,” the text reads. “The helmets are all controlled by a radio signal. Send the right signal, and the helmets open.”
“Do you know that signal?” I ask hopefully.
“Negative,” reads the text, and my heart falls. This plan isn’t going to work.
“Stay down, monkey boy,” one of the Galfurians says, and sends another shot towards the couch.
Then, to my surprise, another one opens it’s helmet. It pulls back and retracts into the armor, and I get a good look at the face. It’s feminine, to be sure, but it looks very much like a cat. The others follow suit, and I see a mix of female and male cat faces.
“The boy is around somewhere,” the first one to open her helmet says. “Start sniffing him out.”
They start doing just that, smelling the air. I realize that, as close as I am, they will be able to find me pretty quickly. Without thinking, I crawl out from under the counter, open the bottle of water, and jump up onto the counter top.
“Hey, cat face!” I cry, and spray some water into the faces of the nearest two. Their faces burn, and their drop their weapons, bringing their hands up to their faces. I fling water and two more, dropping them just as quickly. The remaining two, however, are quick to act, and start firing at me. I duck back behind the counter, but in doing so, I throw up the bottle. As I watch, the bottle is hit by a bolt of laser, and explodes, salt water flying everywhere.
I ducked my head between my legs and closed my eyes, expecting the cat people to jump over and start blasting me to shreds any second now. In stead, I heard more gun fire, this time sounding more like an electric buzz than the laser guns did. After a few seconds of fire, I heard two drops, followed quickly by four more. Then, there was foot steps, and a voice calling to me from above the counter.
“Edward?” the voice said. It was Charles. “Are you okay down there, lad?”
I open my eyes and see the old man looking back at me. He has a small pistol in his hand, the barrel of which is still smoking. I smile and leap up, giving him a hug. He laughs and hugs me back with one arm.
“Just like you’re father,” he says. “He always acted before thinking, too. But, thanks to your action with the salt water, I was able to take our attackers down.”
“Who are you?” I say. “I thought you worked for the station.”
“Oh, that’s just a cover,” he says. “I’ve been assigned here to make sure that you make it to the Academy in one piece. Looks like a good thing I was here, too.”
I look over the counter at the dead cat aliens. I’ve never seen dead people before. I feel sick, drop out of Charles’ hands, and promptly throw up. He pats me on the back until I finish, then hands me a cold, wet towel that I use to clean up. I see the octopus thing clean up my vomit as Charles leads me away, and wonder vaguely if that will end up on the menu. I try not to think more on it lest I throw up again.
I look up at Charles. I have a lot of questions. What does he know about my dad? Just who is he, really? Send by whom to protect me from what? What the hell is really going on here? He sees the look in my eyes and pats me on the back.
“Come on, lad,” he says, returning to the kind old man I first met when I got here. “Let’s get on the ship. It’s a long trip to the Academy, and we’ll have plenty of time for you to ask your questions on the way.”
I look down at the floor. I was scared. Someone tried to kill me. Six someones. And now I was in the care of a strange old man that was far more than he appeared. All so I can go to school in a space academy?
“Charles?” I say.
“Yes, lad?” he says.
“I’m scared,” I say.
“Good,” is his only reply. “Good.
The End
Week 25
Well, here we are, another week, another story.
This one kind of hit me out of the blue. I've been watching my Farscape box set again, making my way through Season 1, and really felt the need to write a classic sci-fi story. But, I didn't know what to write without completely ripping of either Farscape it self, or Star Trek. So, instead, I looked for other sources of inspiration. I found it in an odd place. Harry Potter.
So, the story you are about to read is my strange combination of Farscape and Harry Potter. I rather like it, and I will definitely be returning to it again soon. In the mean time, I hope you enjoy it.
This one kind of hit me out of the blue. I've been watching my Farscape box set again, making my way through Season 1, and really felt the need to write a classic sci-fi story. But, I didn't know what to write without completely ripping of either Farscape it self, or Star Trek. So, instead, I looked for other sources of inspiration. I found it in an odd place. Harry Potter.
So, the story you are about to read is my strange combination of Farscape and Harry Potter. I rather like it, and I will definitely be returning to it again soon. In the mean time, I hope you enjoy it.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Free Edit Contest!
Okay, I have to blog about another contest.
Freelance Editor CA Marshall is giving away a free substantial edit (100K words)! This is truly awesome, and I hope I can win, because I would love for her to look at my novel.
Check out the deatails of the contest here.
http://www.camarshall.com/2010/06/celebrate-with-me-free-substantial-edit.html
Freelance Editor CA Marshall is giving away a free substantial edit (100K words)! This is truly awesome, and I hope I can win, because I would love for her to look at my novel.
Check out the deatails of the contest here.
http://www.camarshall.com/2010/06/celebrate-with-me-free-substantial-edit.html
Free Book Giveaway!
I don't normally post about other writer's blogs or in fact about anything except my stories. This time, however, I'm doing something a little different. I'm posting about a contest.
Anne Riley is haivng a giveaway for reaching 200 members for her blog. And the book's she's giving away are awesome. Go to her site, check it out, join up, and enter to win!
http://annerileybooks.com/2010/05/hooray-summer-book-giveaway/
Anne Riley is haivng a giveaway for reaching 200 members for her blog. And the book's she's giving away are awesome. Go to her site, check it out, join up, and enter to win!
http://annerileybooks.com/2010/05/hooray-summer-book-giveaway/
Sunday, June 20, 2010
The Report
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Gerald said.
He’d been walking this beat for fifteen years now, had worked his way up from a foot cop to a detective, and still mostly kept to the same beat. In all that time, though, he had never seen anything like this.
“What do we have here, Sergeant?” he said to the duty officer.
“Looks like a dragon attack, sir,” he said.
Gerald had already figured that part out. There were red dragon scales all over the place, and the building they were looking at had been burned on one side. It had to be a dragon. But that didn’t explain the dead troll, the dead human in a lab coat and the fact that the place was just crawling with brownies. Gerald hated the fae, and brownies the most. The little suckers trashed his car last week. ‘We just want to clean your windshield,’ they had said. The worst part was that his insurance refused to cover fairy attacks. He had to pay an extra two hundred a month if he wanted that kind of coverage.
“I got that much,” he sighed, lowering his sunglasses to stare at the duty officer, “I mean what do you have for information on the specifics and maybe on the reason behind the attack.”
“Not much, sir,” said the duty officer. “Just this.”
He handed Gerald a manila folder with a plastic tab on it. A little bit of paper in the tab had some writing on it, but all it said was ‘Report.’ No number, no idea of what the report was on, nothing. Gerald opened the report and gave it a brief scan. Mystical drawings and arcane formula were side by side with scientific formula, and it looked like two different hand writings for both sets of notes. The odd formula looked like they were being combined in some way, but Gerald was neither a mystic nor a scientist, and so none of it made sense to him.
“This is just gobblygook,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” the Sergeant said. “We found it hidden in a wall safe. It was behind some pretty heavy duty magical protections, on the side of the building that was burnt.”
“We got a staff wizard here, then?” Gerald asked, surprised but grateful. Maybe the mage could tell him what this report meant.
“Yes, sir, Detective Armstrong is right over there,” he pointed. “He’s been trying to contain the brownies. We’re not sure yet if they’re just scavenging like normal or if they’re part of the crime. There’s an awful lot of them here. Also, he’s been casting the standard lot of forensic spells.”
“Fantastic,” Gerald said. “When he’s done, tell him to come see me. I want him to look this report over.”
The Sergeant nodded. Gerald opened the report again and looked it over. It just didn’t make any sense. Why would you want to combine magic formulas with science formulas? People have tried combining science and magic before, and it always ends in a big boom. Sure, you could enchant scientific items, like magical flash lights that don’t need batteries, cell phones that floated by your ear or flying trains, but no one had been able to find a way to truly blend science and magic. The two disciplines were just too different. It was like mixing water and oil. Or maybe more like mixing nitro and fire.
He looked over the building remains before him. It was obviously a lab. It had all the good, stereotypical, movie set lab stuff, like Bunsen burners, glass beakers, something that looked like a television sized magnifying glass and a round piece of metal machinery with several glass beakers hanging off of it like a miniature circus ride. Nothing here that would indicate magic being used, this was a purely science zone. Then, Gerald looked over at the troll again. Trolls weren’t known for their devotion to science. Sure, they used modern day conveniences, like everyone else, but they weren’t particularly talented when it came to the scientific arts. As with any stereotype, there were exceptions, but still…
Narrowing his eyes, he went over to look. Trolls were notoriously hard to kill, but dragon fire is one of the few things capable of doing the job, so Gerald wasn’t really surprised to see the large, stony looking creature partially burned, particularly in the head and left shoulder area. That did leave a significant portion of the troll to examine, though. First glance didn’t seem in indicate anything out of the ordinary, though. The remains of a Cash for Katie tee-shirt, jeans, hard leather wallet connected by a chain to the hard leather belt. All pretty normal for a troll.
So, he decided to look for something that wasn’t normal. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and gently used it to lift up the tee-shirt for the large, round belly. There it was, just like he thought it would be. He smiled. Normally, Gerald didn’t get this lucky.
“Sergeant,” he called, and the uniformed officer was at his side in a matter of seconds. He bent down to look at the belly of the troll next to Gerald. “What do you see here?”
The man’s eyes opened wide when he looked. “Is that a…?”
“Yup,” Gerald said. “A sigil. The magical tattoo all registered wizards are required to have. This troll was a magic slinger.”
“Why would a troll wizard be hanging out in a science lab?” the sergeant asked.
“More importantly,” Gerald said, “who would want to kill them both? And why?”
Whatever was going on here, the death of these two was just the beginning of things. Gerald stood up and sighed. He had a big job ahead of him, he could tell.
“Sergeant,” he said to the duty officer, “get me some coffee. This is going to be a long night.”
******
About an hour later, Gerald was on his second cup of coffee and the tent working as the headquarters for the investigation. He was reviewing the preliminary and secondary investigation reports of the scene. The scene had been cleaned of distractions, such as the brownies, which had been captured and gathered in a special holding cell. It was still undetermined if they were witness or scavenging, and a translator was on the way, as all of them refused to talk to the detective. The bodies had also been moved and replaced with outlines made of white tape. In a few hours, he would be heading to the coroner’s office to find out the results of the autopsies of the bodies, though he thought he already knew what the results would be. Death by dragon breath was pretty obvious.
He was reviewing what was going on right then, including which uniformed cops were out questioning potential witnesses, when he heard a person behind him clearing his throat. He turned around and saw a plainclothes officer standing at attention. He was an older man, with a neatly trimmed gray beard and round, wire rimmed glasses. Gerald recognized the man as being Detective Armstrong, the magician that was responsible for containing all the brownies.
“Ah, Detective Armstrong,” Gerald said, “I take it you’re done with your initial magical forensic investigation?”
“Yes, sir,” the older man said, “I was told that you wanted me to report to you? I assume you want my report.”
Gerald waved the older man to a seat. “Please, have a seat and come coffee,” he said. “and you can stop with the ‘sir’ thing. I checked your record, and you have at least five years seniority on me.”
Armstrong gratefully sat and took the offered hot drink. “Yes, sir,” he said between sips, “but you’re the officer in charge of this investigation, and therefore, I technically report to you.”
“You can still cut out the sir bit,” Gerald said. “Makes me uncomfortable for another detective to refer to me as such. Gerald, please.”
Gerald held out his hand and the other man shook it. “Jon,” Armstrong said.
“Great,” Gerald said, nodding. “Now that the formalities are out of the way, let’s get down to business. I do want to hear your initial report, so let’s start with that.”
“Well,” Jon started, “outside of the dragon fire and the expected traces of dragon magical energies that were used to break through the building’s defenses, the only thing out of the ordinary was the brownies.”
“Magical defenses?” Gerald said, writing something down in a note book. “The building actually had magical defenses around it?”
“Well, yeah,” Jon said, “but nothing out of the ordinary. All over the shelf magic.”
“Okay,” Gerald said, still writing, “now what about the brownies? Were they witnesses or scavenging like normal?”
“Honestly, I’d say they were victims,” Jon said, “but I won’t know for sure until we can question them with a translator.”
“Victims?” Gerald said. “How does that work?”
“Hard to say at this point, for sure,” Jon said. “There were the remains of little cages that have the auras of Brownie traps on them around the building. I’d say they were being experimented on. Plus, and here’s the big one, they had all their magic stripped from them. That’s why they can’t talk. I’m stumped, though, as to how that happened, and why we need a translator.”
“Stripped of magic?” Gerald said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve heard of that happening with wizards, but never with innately magical creatures, like a brownie.”
Jon only nodded. Gerald turned around to the piles of papers on the plastic picnic table that had been set up in the tent and found the report. He handed it to Jon.
“That leads nicely in the second reason I wanted you here,” he said. “Take a look at this and tell me what you think.”
Jon read over the report. It was only a few pages long, all of it hand written, and obviously by two different hands with different pens. Not only were there the formulas, but there were notes and arrows pointing to them, along with diagrams and pictographs. It was a jumbled mess, to be sure, but Gerald was convinced that this was the key to the whole case.
“Well,” Jon said. “Off the top of my head, most of the magical formula here are pretty basic. Bigby’s Law of Extra-planar Motion, Nicodimus’ Three Laws of Magical Energy, stuff like that. Things wizards learn when we’re ten.”
“Ten?” Gerald said. “I mean, I’ve heard of these things, but are you telling me this is the ABC’s of magic?”
Jon laughs softly. “No,” he says. “It’s more like the basic magical laws and theories that describe how the universe works. They’re more like the magical equivalent of Newton’s Laws of Motion and Gravity, or Darwin’s Theory of Evolution. Which, by the way, are also in here.”
“What?” Gerald said. Jon turns the report around and points to some of the scientific formula’s interspersed among the magical ones.
“See that?” he points to one of the simpler formulas. “That is Newton’s Second Law of Motion.”
“Okay,” Gerald says. “First, how do you know all this? And second, why does Newton’s Second Law look like it’s trying to use arcane symbols as the variables.”
“First,” Jon says, “all magicians are taught some basic science. It’s good for us to know exactly what laws of physics we’re breaking when we break them. I’m not saying I’m a physicists by any means, but I probably know more than the average person on the street. I’ve been told the same is true for scientists and magic.”
“Second,” he continues, “I have no idea. It looks like the two people who wrote this report were trying to use the magical formulas to solve for scientific problems and vice versa. For what purpose, I have no idea. This is an old idea, the melding of science and magic, but it’s never been done.”
Gerald nodded. Then, something occurred to him. He looked up at Jon with a sly grin on his face.
“Jon,” he said, “what’s your current assignment?”
Jon blinked, taken aback by the question. “CSI, magical division.”
“How would you like to get out from behind the desk and do some real detective work?” Gerald asked.
“What?” Jon asked in shock. He didn’t look to pleased with the idea.
“I need a partner on this, Jon,” Gerald said. “I now next to nothing about science and even less about magic. And with the perp being a dragon, I could use a wizard at my side. Plus, you already know the case as well as I do. The captain owes me a favor. I’ll put in the request to have you transferred to homicide, and it’s a done deal.”
Jon paused, looking terrified.
“Jon,” Gerald said, looking the older man straight in the eye. “I need your help. Two men were killed, a human scientist and a troll wizard, but a dragon, and we need to figure out why, find the dragon and throw him behind bars. I can’t do this without you.”
There was another pause, but finally, Jon nodded. “I haven’t done more than forensics in such a long time, I’m not sure what good I’ll be. But, I’ll do it.”
“Good,” John said, slapping his new partner on the shoulder. Then, he reaches for his cell phone. “I’ll call the captain, then we’ll head to the coroner and see what our bodies have to tell us.”
******
Gerald and Jon walked down the stairs to the County Coroner’s office. Gerald didn’t even notice, he’d been here so often in his career, but Jon wondered briefly if the smell was the bodies, or some chemical to prevent one from smelling the bodies. The walked down a long hall, through a set of double doors and into a large, cold room. There were tables everywhere, most of them on wheels, and two large examination tables in the center of the room. One of those tables had a body on it that was currently covered in a plain, gray cloth. The other table had the remains of a dead, naked troll on it. Peering at the dead troll with some kind of eye peace was a surprisingly young looking woman with flowing blond hair barely kept in check in a series of intricate knots and braids. When she looked up, Jon saw that she had long, delicate, pointed ears. An elf.
“Gerald,” she said warmly as the two men entered the room. “It’s been so long. I didn’t know you were working on this case.”
Gerald and the elf woman hugged. “Lyssia,” Gerald said, giving her the traditional elvin kiss of close friendship on her cheek. “It has been a long time. Two years, in fact. I thought you had retired and moved onto a new profession. It was your five hundredth birthday, after all.”
“True,” she said. “And I did take up auto racing for a while. Never quite got the hang of it, sadly, and after one major crash during a race, I decided I wanted to go back to work as a coroner. So, here I am.”
“Well, I for one, am grateful that you are here,” Gerald said.
“Are you going to introduce me to your handsome friend there?” Lyssia asked, looking over Gerald’s shoulder to Jon. Jon blushed at the intensity of the stare.
“Oh, of course,” Gerald said. “Doctor Lyssia Greentree, this is Detective Jon Armstrong, Wizard… er…”
“Master Wizard, Second class, Blackstaff,” Jon corrected. He reached out to take the elf’s offered hand, and kissed it gently before returning it.
“Master Wizard?” she said. “And Blackstaff, nonetheless. I’m impressed. Not many humans make Master in Blackstaff.”
Jon only nodded. Gerald looked back and forth between the two. “I have no idea what Blackstaff means, but a Master, eh? I’m beginning to believe that my new partner may be more than I initially believed.”
Jon blushed again, and lowered his head, embarrassed by all the attention. Gerald smirked and Lyssia smacked him on the arm.
“So,” Gerald said. “Let’s get back to business. What do you have for us on our poor dragon victims, here?”
Lyssia walked over to the cadaver under the blanket first, laying her hands on it’s stomach.
“Well,” she said taking in a deep breath. “Not much. Pretty straight forward, really, at least on this guy. You are looking at the remains of one Doctor Richard Worthy, noted physicist. He was killed instantly by the dragon’s breath. Nothing special about his corpse, except the only slightly odd fact that he had no protection spells or items on him. Not entirely unusual.”
“And our troll?” Gerald asked.
“Ah, now here’s where things get interesting,” the elf said, and Jon swore he saw her ears twitch. “Here we have one Svergold Yarlson, a Master Wizard, Fourth Class, Mjolnier. I was also able to find out that, not long after reaching first class master status, he studied the sciences. Physics, to be specific. He had a PhD in the subject, in fact, a rarity both for a troll and a wizard. Smart guy was our Doctor Yarlson.”
She paused for a moment for effect, looking back and forth between Jon and Gerald, making sure that they were paying attention.
“Now here comes the truly interesting stuff,” she said one she had it. “Just like our human friend over there, our troll wizard here had no magical protection, either in the form of spells or devices.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Gerald said.
“Not only does it not make sense,” Jon said, “It’s impossible.”
Jon suddenly un-tucked and rolled up his shirt, turning around so that Lyssia and Gerald could look at his back. There was the wizard tattoo, very similar to the one the troll wore on his stomach.
“See this?” he said. “It’s the standard tattoo all registered wizards are required to wear. It’s also magical ward, protecting wizards from most forms of harm outside the most advanced weaponry and magic.”
“So, wait,” Gerald said. “Lyssia, your saying that, despite the physical presence of this tattoo, Mr. Yarlson did not benefit from its protective magics?”
“That’s exactly what I am saying,” she said.
“How?” Gerald asked.
“I have no idea,” Lyssia replied. “That’s why you guys are the detectives and I’m the coroner.
******
Gerald slammed the door shut on his car as Jon sat down next to him. Jon looked over at his new partner. He didn’t look angry.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“What?” Gerald said, looking distracted. He was searching for something in his pockets.
“The slamming he car door,” Jon said.
“Oh,” Gerald said. “Nothing. I just do that out of habit. My old car had a sticky door. I’ll try to stop.”
With that, Gerald pulled out a semi-crushed packet of cigarettes, pulled one of the only non-broken ones out, and put it up to his lips. He had the lighter opened and ready to click it when he turned and saw the look on Jon’s face.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” Gerald asked slowly.
“Do I really have a choice in the mater?” Jon said, looking at the cigarette.
“Right now, you do not,” Gerald said.
“Then I guess I don’t mind,” Jon said, and Gerald immediately lit the end of the paper and tobacco stick and took a deep inhale.
“That’s better,” Gerald said. Just then, his phone rang. He reached down to his belt pouch, pulled it out and flipped it open. “This is Detective Dabrowski,” he said. “Yeah? He’s there now? Great, we’re on our way.”
He turned to look at Jon. “The translator just arrived. We can go talk to the brownies now.”
“Great,” Jon said. “I love talking to the fae.”
Gerald looked over at the older man and smiled around his cigarette. “For a moment there, I almost believed you,” he said, then started his car and drove away.
A few moments later, they were in the precinct interrogation observation room. On one side of the two-way mirror sat a rather frightened brownie. In the observation room with Jon and Gerald was Captain Perkins, a man pushing fifty but in far better shape physically than either Jon or Gerald, which made Jon self conscious. Hovering in the air right next to the captain was a pixy. She was about three inches tall, with lustrous blond hair that was bound back in black ribbons. She wore a miniature power suit that reminded Gerald of his sister’s doll collection from when he was a kid.
“Gentlemen, this is Dame Lavorna,” the captain said, waiving to the pixie, “of the Summer Queen’s Court. She has graciously volunteered her time here to help with the translations of these brownies.”
Jon raised an eyebrow and was about to ask a question when Gerald interrupted him.
“A pleasure, Lady,” Gerald said and bowed. Lavorna ignored him, however, and fluttered over to Jon. It was obvious to the wizard that the dimunitive woman was reading his aura.
“You are a wizard?” she asked. He nodded. “then you no doubt wonder what a fairy of my standing is doing here working as a translator?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” Jon said.
“Simple,” she replied. “For the past few months, fae have begun disappearing in Arcadia. At first, it was the minor races, especially the violent races, like redcaps or goblins. Then, it was noticeable among Summer Court races, like leprechauns and even pixies. And, of course, brownies. Lots of brownies. We had a recent break in our investigations into the disappearances when a brownie witness described the perpetrator. Someone from outside Arcadia. A troll.”
“Let me guess,” Gerald said. “Svergold Yarlson.”
“Yes,” Lavorna nodded. “That was the name that came up in our database when we ran the description through it. Thus why I am here.”
“So,” Jon said, “our troll victim was kidnapping fairies and, what, selling them to the physicist? What for?”
Gerald smiled. “Let’s go talk to the brownies and see if we can’t find out.”
******
“Say that again?” Gerald asked.
“He said that he and his friends had all been experimented on,” Lavorna said. “A machine was attached to their heads and all their magic was sucked out of them, including their translator magic that allowed them to speak with humans.”
“How is that even possible?” Gerald said.
“I don’t know,” Jon said, “but it matches the story of the other three brownies. And my magic indicates that they’re all telling the truth.”
“I concur,” Lavorna said.
“The problem with this,” Gerald said, “is that there was no such machine at the scene. And nothing appeared to be missing.”
“Well,” Jon said, “obviously something was that we didn’t notice.”
The brownie spoke up then, uttering a string of noises that sounded to Gerald like the crunching of leaves combined with someone gargling. Lavorna listened and then turned to the two humans.
“He says he has information on the dragon that freed them,” she said.
“He does?” Gerald brightened at this prospect. “All of his buddies clamped up on this subject.”
“He says that he will offer this information only if I can promise the Queen’s protection,” she replied.
Gerald sat upright in his chair, looking from the pixy to the brownie and back again. “You’ve got my attention,” he said to the brownie, uncaring if the creature understood him. Then he turned back to the pixy, “are you willing to extend such protection?”
“I have been authorized to do so if such information became available,” the fae knight said. “I’ll make the offer now.”
She returned back to the brownie and the two of them held a conversation for some time. Gerald and Jon occasionally asked questions, and in a matter of an hour, they received the information they needed.
“The dragon was there to liberate them?” Gerald said.
“No, to steal the machine,” Jon reminded him. “He swore the brownies to secrecy on pain of death, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Gerald said, thinking. He knew the dragon was the perp from the beginning, but he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of facing a dragon, even with magical support. But now he was talking about facing a dragon with a device that could take magic away from creatures. Not a fun idea.
“We just need to find the dragon,” Jon said. “What about those dragon scales left on the scene?”
“No,” Jon said. “I called about those earlier. The lab ran tests on them, but the scales don’t match any of our records. Whoever this dragon is, he doesn’t have any priors, or is even registered with the government.”
“Maybe the brownie knows something?” Jon suggested.
Lavorna turned and spoke to the brownie some more. When she returned to the two men, her look was not very encouraging.
“He doesn’t know much,” she said. “The dragon didn’t speak a lot, except to threaten the brownies. Apparently, the dragon was only interested in the machine. He did mention a name, though, but it’s obviously a alias, for it is no dragon name.”
“What is it?” Gerald said.
“Ondalaka,” she said. “I am unfamiliar with the word, but as I said, it is obviously no dragon name.”
“No,” Gerald said, smiling. “But it is a name I know.”
The other two looked at him, confused.
“It’s the name of an old night club, closed down a few years ago due to some questionable business practices,” Gerald said. “They were trying to make a human’s only club that featured... er… exotic entertainment from the fairy realms. Ondalaka was the name of the wizard that built the place.”
“Is this club building still around?” Lavorna asked.
“It is,” Gerald said. “No one bought the location after it was closed down.”
“Well, then let’s go,” Jon said.
“I wish to come with you,” Lavorna said. “This dragon possesses a weapon that is very dangerous to my queen.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Gerald said, bowing low to the diminutive knight. The fae then left the room first and Gerald started following behind. Jon, however, grabbed his partners by the shoulder and pulled him aside.
“Gerald,” Jon said, “I’m sure how to put this, so I’ll just say it. You do realize that our fine knight there is only three inches tall, right?”
“Yeah,” Gerald smiled, “but pixies have the power to shrink humans to their size.”
“She’s a knight,” Jon said, “in the direct service of the Queen of the Summer Court.”
“So,” Gerald said, “out of my league?”
“Out of your league,” Jon said.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Gerald said, and the two laughed and followed after the pixie.
******
Less than two hours later, the three of them, plus a large SWAT team, had a small, boarded up building surrounded. The remains of a few signs still proclaimed the building to be Ondalaka. There were reports from the sharp shooters on the roofs of nearby buildings that the roof to the roof to Ondalaka had a massive hole in it, large enough for a dragon to get in and out, for sure, but they couldn’t see anything inside. Jon confirmed that it was a magical darkness. His magical scans indicated that the dragon was, in fact, home, and it was likely that the dragon knew they were all outside.
“Attention Dragon inside the Ondalaka building,” Gerald said into a loud speaker, “This is the police. You are under arrest for the murders of Doctor Richard Worthy and Master Wizard Svergold Yarlson. Come quietly, and you won’t be harmed.”
There was only silence. Gerald let it drag out for a few minutes before lifting the loud speaker back to his mouth.
“We have you surrounded,” he said. “My men are armed with Dragonhide shells, and a few of them have been magically enchanted to seek you out specifically, thanks to the dragon scales you left behind at the scene of the crime. I don’t want to send my men in after you, but I will if you leave me with no other choice.”
There was more silence, and Gerald began to suspect that the dragon wasn’t really in there. He sent a questioning glare at Jon, who only nodded his head. Gerald turned to the officer in charge of the SWAT and nodded. The other man started yelling commands into his walkie-talkie, and in a matter of seconds, the whole SWAT team had descended on Ondalaka.
No shots were fired, which made Gerald suspicious. The men reported nothing but darkness, and so switched to magical goggles that allowed them to see through illusions. They reported what appeared to be bullet holes and other signs of a fight. Then, they spotted the dragon. He was lying down on the ground, apparently unconscious.
“I think he’s dead, sir,” a SWAT officer reported over the walkie-talkie. The SWAT lieutenant looked over to Gerald, who shrugged. He nodded over to Jon and Lavorna, and the three of them went into the building. There was definitely a firefight here, with emphasis on fire. Whatever it was that happened here, the dragon fought back. A brief exanimation of the room also indicated that the machine was missing. Someone had not only known about the machine, but that this dragon with no identity had it. And on top of it all, they had beaten the police to the punch in getting it.
There was a complete examination of the Ondalaka building, but there wasn’t much to indicate what happened. Whoever attacked the dragon was able to get close to the beast before the attack happened. And they weren’t alone, either. But who they were remained a mystery.
******
Jon sat in his office a few days latter, reviewing the case. He knew that whomever it was that took the machine was going to try and weaponize it. Imagine, a machine that could steal the magical energy of a living being. He also knew they weren’t going to have a lot of luck with that. It took him most of the day searching through the building, and another two days to organize the papers once he had them. But now, he had an almost complete report in front of him. It was far bigger than just the few pages Gerald had at the beginning of the investigation, and went into far deeper and more advanced formulas. And sure, some pages were missing, but Jon had enough that he figured he could fill in the blanks once he’d studied it more. He hadn’t told Gerald about it yet, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
Jon knew that whoever had the machine didn’t know how to use it. They needed this report. And that meant they would come looking for it one day and, by virtue of him having it, him too. Jon looked over the report again and smiled.
When they came looking for him, he would be ready.
The End
He’d been walking this beat for fifteen years now, had worked his way up from a foot cop to a detective, and still mostly kept to the same beat. In all that time, though, he had never seen anything like this.
“What do we have here, Sergeant?” he said to the duty officer.
“Looks like a dragon attack, sir,” he said.
Gerald had already figured that part out. There were red dragon scales all over the place, and the building they were looking at had been burned on one side. It had to be a dragon. But that didn’t explain the dead troll, the dead human in a lab coat and the fact that the place was just crawling with brownies. Gerald hated the fae, and brownies the most. The little suckers trashed his car last week. ‘We just want to clean your windshield,’ they had said. The worst part was that his insurance refused to cover fairy attacks. He had to pay an extra two hundred a month if he wanted that kind of coverage.
“I got that much,” he sighed, lowering his sunglasses to stare at the duty officer, “I mean what do you have for information on the specifics and maybe on the reason behind the attack.”
“Not much, sir,” said the duty officer. “Just this.”
He handed Gerald a manila folder with a plastic tab on it. A little bit of paper in the tab had some writing on it, but all it said was ‘Report.’ No number, no idea of what the report was on, nothing. Gerald opened the report and gave it a brief scan. Mystical drawings and arcane formula were side by side with scientific formula, and it looked like two different hand writings for both sets of notes. The odd formula looked like they were being combined in some way, but Gerald was neither a mystic nor a scientist, and so none of it made sense to him.
“This is just gobblygook,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” the Sergeant said. “We found it hidden in a wall safe. It was behind some pretty heavy duty magical protections, on the side of the building that was burnt.”
“We got a staff wizard here, then?” Gerald asked, surprised but grateful. Maybe the mage could tell him what this report meant.
“Yes, sir, Detective Armstrong is right over there,” he pointed. “He’s been trying to contain the brownies. We’re not sure yet if they’re just scavenging like normal or if they’re part of the crime. There’s an awful lot of them here. Also, he’s been casting the standard lot of forensic spells.”
“Fantastic,” Gerald said. “When he’s done, tell him to come see me. I want him to look this report over.”
The Sergeant nodded. Gerald opened the report again and looked it over. It just didn’t make any sense. Why would you want to combine magic formulas with science formulas? People have tried combining science and magic before, and it always ends in a big boom. Sure, you could enchant scientific items, like magical flash lights that don’t need batteries, cell phones that floated by your ear or flying trains, but no one had been able to find a way to truly blend science and magic. The two disciplines were just too different. It was like mixing water and oil. Or maybe more like mixing nitro and fire.
He looked over the building remains before him. It was obviously a lab. It had all the good, stereotypical, movie set lab stuff, like Bunsen burners, glass beakers, something that looked like a television sized magnifying glass and a round piece of metal machinery with several glass beakers hanging off of it like a miniature circus ride. Nothing here that would indicate magic being used, this was a purely science zone. Then, Gerald looked over at the troll again. Trolls weren’t known for their devotion to science. Sure, they used modern day conveniences, like everyone else, but they weren’t particularly talented when it came to the scientific arts. As with any stereotype, there were exceptions, but still…
Narrowing his eyes, he went over to look. Trolls were notoriously hard to kill, but dragon fire is one of the few things capable of doing the job, so Gerald wasn’t really surprised to see the large, stony looking creature partially burned, particularly in the head and left shoulder area. That did leave a significant portion of the troll to examine, though. First glance didn’t seem in indicate anything out of the ordinary, though. The remains of a Cash for Katie tee-shirt, jeans, hard leather wallet connected by a chain to the hard leather belt. All pretty normal for a troll.
So, he decided to look for something that wasn’t normal. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and gently used it to lift up the tee-shirt for the large, round belly. There it was, just like he thought it would be. He smiled. Normally, Gerald didn’t get this lucky.
“Sergeant,” he called, and the uniformed officer was at his side in a matter of seconds. He bent down to look at the belly of the troll next to Gerald. “What do you see here?”
The man’s eyes opened wide when he looked. “Is that a…?”
“Yup,” Gerald said. “A sigil. The magical tattoo all registered wizards are required to have. This troll was a magic slinger.”
“Why would a troll wizard be hanging out in a science lab?” the sergeant asked.
“More importantly,” Gerald said, “who would want to kill them both? And why?”
Whatever was going on here, the death of these two was just the beginning of things. Gerald stood up and sighed. He had a big job ahead of him, he could tell.
“Sergeant,” he said to the duty officer, “get me some coffee. This is going to be a long night.”
******
About an hour later, Gerald was on his second cup of coffee and the tent working as the headquarters for the investigation. He was reviewing the preliminary and secondary investigation reports of the scene. The scene had been cleaned of distractions, such as the brownies, which had been captured and gathered in a special holding cell. It was still undetermined if they were witness or scavenging, and a translator was on the way, as all of them refused to talk to the detective. The bodies had also been moved and replaced with outlines made of white tape. In a few hours, he would be heading to the coroner’s office to find out the results of the autopsies of the bodies, though he thought he already knew what the results would be. Death by dragon breath was pretty obvious.
He was reviewing what was going on right then, including which uniformed cops were out questioning potential witnesses, when he heard a person behind him clearing his throat. He turned around and saw a plainclothes officer standing at attention. He was an older man, with a neatly trimmed gray beard and round, wire rimmed glasses. Gerald recognized the man as being Detective Armstrong, the magician that was responsible for containing all the brownies.
“Ah, Detective Armstrong,” Gerald said, “I take it you’re done with your initial magical forensic investigation?”
“Yes, sir,” the older man said, “I was told that you wanted me to report to you? I assume you want my report.”
Gerald waved the older man to a seat. “Please, have a seat and come coffee,” he said. “and you can stop with the ‘sir’ thing. I checked your record, and you have at least five years seniority on me.”
Armstrong gratefully sat and took the offered hot drink. “Yes, sir,” he said between sips, “but you’re the officer in charge of this investigation, and therefore, I technically report to you.”
“You can still cut out the sir bit,” Gerald said. “Makes me uncomfortable for another detective to refer to me as such. Gerald, please.”
Gerald held out his hand and the other man shook it. “Jon,” Armstrong said.
“Great,” Gerald said, nodding. “Now that the formalities are out of the way, let’s get down to business. I do want to hear your initial report, so let’s start with that.”
“Well,” Jon started, “outside of the dragon fire and the expected traces of dragon magical energies that were used to break through the building’s defenses, the only thing out of the ordinary was the brownies.”
“Magical defenses?” Gerald said, writing something down in a note book. “The building actually had magical defenses around it?”
“Well, yeah,” Jon said, “but nothing out of the ordinary. All over the shelf magic.”
“Okay,” Gerald said, still writing, “now what about the brownies? Were they witnesses or scavenging like normal?”
“Honestly, I’d say they were victims,” Jon said, “but I won’t know for sure until we can question them with a translator.”
“Victims?” Gerald said. “How does that work?”
“Hard to say at this point, for sure,” Jon said. “There were the remains of little cages that have the auras of Brownie traps on them around the building. I’d say they were being experimented on. Plus, and here’s the big one, they had all their magic stripped from them. That’s why they can’t talk. I’m stumped, though, as to how that happened, and why we need a translator.”
“Stripped of magic?” Gerald said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve heard of that happening with wizards, but never with innately magical creatures, like a brownie.”
Jon only nodded. Gerald turned around to the piles of papers on the plastic picnic table that had been set up in the tent and found the report. He handed it to Jon.
“That leads nicely in the second reason I wanted you here,” he said. “Take a look at this and tell me what you think.”
Jon read over the report. It was only a few pages long, all of it hand written, and obviously by two different hands with different pens. Not only were there the formulas, but there were notes and arrows pointing to them, along with diagrams and pictographs. It was a jumbled mess, to be sure, but Gerald was convinced that this was the key to the whole case.
“Well,” Jon said. “Off the top of my head, most of the magical formula here are pretty basic. Bigby’s Law of Extra-planar Motion, Nicodimus’ Three Laws of Magical Energy, stuff like that. Things wizards learn when we’re ten.”
“Ten?” Gerald said. “I mean, I’ve heard of these things, but are you telling me this is the ABC’s of magic?”
Jon laughs softly. “No,” he says. “It’s more like the basic magical laws and theories that describe how the universe works. They’re more like the magical equivalent of Newton’s Laws of Motion and Gravity, or Darwin’s Theory of Evolution. Which, by the way, are also in here.”
“What?” Gerald said. Jon turns the report around and points to some of the scientific formula’s interspersed among the magical ones.
“See that?” he points to one of the simpler formulas. “That is Newton’s Second Law of Motion.”
“Okay,” Gerald says. “First, how do you know all this? And second, why does Newton’s Second Law look like it’s trying to use arcane symbols as the variables.”
“First,” Jon says, “all magicians are taught some basic science. It’s good for us to know exactly what laws of physics we’re breaking when we break them. I’m not saying I’m a physicists by any means, but I probably know more than the average person on the street. I’ve been told the same is true for scientists and magic.”
“Second,” he continues, “I have no idea. It looks like the two people who wrote this report were trying to use the magical formulas to solve for scientific problems and vice versa. For what purpose, I have no idea. This is an old idea, the melding of science and magic, but it’s never been done.”
Gerald nodded. Then, something occurred to him. He looked up at Jon with a sly grin on his face.
“Jon,” he said, “what’s your current assignment?”
Jon blinked, taken aback by the question. “CSI, magical division.”
“How would you like to get out from behind the desk and do some real detective work?” Gerald asked.
“What?” Jon asked in shock. He didn’t look to pleased with the idea.
“I need a partner on this, Jon,” Gerald said. “I now next to nothing about science and even less about magic. And with the perp being a dragon, I could use a wizard at my side. Plus, you already know the case as well as I do. The captain owes me a favor. I’ll put in the request to have you transferred to homicide, and it’s a done deal.”
Jon paused, looking terrified.
“Jon,” Gerald said, looking the older man straight in the eye. “I need your help. Two men were killed, a human scientist and a troll wizard, but a dragon, and we need to figure out why, find the dragon and throw him behind bars. I can’t do this without you.”
There was another pause, but finally, Jon nodded. “I haven’t done more than forensics in such a long time, I’m not sure what good I’ll be. But, I’ll do it.”
“Good,” John said, slapping his new partner on the shoulder. Then, he reaches for his cell phone. “I’ll call the captain, then we’ll head to the coroner and see what our bodies have to tell us.”
******
Gerald and Jon walked down the stairs to the County Coroner’s office. Gerald didn’t even notice, he’d been here so often in his career, but Jon wondered briefly if the smell was the bodies, or some chemical to prevent one from smelling the bodies. The walked down a long hall, through a set of double doors and into a large, cold room. There were tables everywhere, most of them on wheels, and two large examination tables in the center of the room. One of those tables had a body on it that was currently covered in a plain, gray cloth. The other table had the remains of a dead, naked troll on it. Peering at the dead troll with some kind of eye peace was a surprisingly young looking woman with flowing blond hair barely kept in check in a series of intricate knots and braids. When she looked up, Jon saw that she had long, delicate, pointed ears. An elf.
“Gerald,” she said warmly as the two men entered the room. “It’s been so long. I didn’t know you were working on this case.”
Gerald and the elf woman hugged. “Lyssia,” Gerald said, giving her the traditional elvin kiss of close friendship on her cheek. “It has been a long time. Two years, in fact. I thought you had retired and moved onto a new profession. It was your five hundredth birthday, after all.”
“True,” she said. “And I did take up auto racing for a while. Never quite got the hang of it, sadly, and after one major crash during a race, I decided I wanted to go back to work as a coroner. So, here I am.”
“Well, I for one, am grateful that you are here,” Gerald said.
“Are you going to introduce me to your handsome friend there?” Lyssia asked, looking over Gerald’s shoulder to Jon. Jon blushed at the intensity of the stare.
“Oh, of course,” Gerald said. “Doctor Lyssia Greentree, this is Detective Jon Armstrong, Wizard… er…”
“Master Wizard, Second class, Blackstaff,” Jon corrected. He reached out to take the elf’s offered hand, and kissed it gently before returning it.
“Master Wizard?” she said. “And Blackstaff, nonetheless. I’m impressed. Not many humans make Master in Blackstaff.”
Jon only nodded. Gerald looked back and forth between the two. “I have no idea what Blackstaff means, but a Master, eh? I’m beginning to believe that my new partner may be more than I initially believed.”
Jon blushed again, and lowered his head, embarrassed by all the attention. Gerald smirked and Lyssia smacked him on the arm.
“So,” Gerald said. “Let’s get back to business. What do you have for us on our poor dragon victims, here?”
Lyssia walked over to the cadaver under the blanket first, laying her hands on it’s stomach.
“Well,” she said taking in a deep breath. “Not much. Pretty straight forward, really, at least on this guy. You are looking at the remains of one Doctor Richard Worthy, noted physicist. He was killed instantly by the dragon’s breath. Nothing special about his corpse, except the only slightly odd fact that he had no protection spells or items on him. Not entirely unusual.”
“And our troll?” Gerald asked.
“Ah, now here’s where things get interesting,” the elf said, and Jon swore he saw her ears twitch. “Here we have one Svergold Yarlson, a Master Wizard, Fourth Class, Mjolnier. I was also able to find out that, not long after reaching first class master status, he studied the sciences. Physics, to be specific. He had a PhD in the subject, in fact, a rarity both for a troll and a wizard. Smart guy was our Doctor Yarlson.”
She paused for a moment for effect, looking back and forth between Jon and Gerald, making sure that they were paying attention.
“Now here comes the truly interesting stuff,” she said one she had it. “Just like our human friend over there, our troll wizard here had no magical protection, either in the form of spells or devices.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Gerald said.
“Not only does it not make sense,” Jon said, “It’s impossible.”
Jon suddenly un-tucked and rolled up his shirt, turning around so that Lyssia and Gerald could look at his back. There was the wizard tattoo, very similar to the one the troll wore on his stomach.
“See this?” he said. “It’s the standard tattoo all registered wizards are required to wear. It’s also magical ward, protecting wizards from most forms of harm outside the most advanced weaponry and magic.”
“So, wait,” Gerald said. “Lyssia, your saying that, despite the physical presence of this tattoo, Mr. Yarlson did not benefit from its protective magics?”
“That’s exactly what I am saying,” she said.
“How?” Gerald asked.
“I have no idea,” Lyssia replied. “That’s why you guys are the detectives and I’m the coroner.
******
Gerald slammed the door shut on his car as Jon sat down next to him. Jon looked over at his new partner. He didn’t look angry.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“What?” Gerald said, looking distracted. He was searching for something in his pockets.
“The slamming he car door,” Jon said.
“Oh,” Gerald said. “Nothing. I just do that out of habit. My old car had a sticky door. I’ll try to stop.”
With that, Gerald pulled out a semi-crushed packet of cigarettes, pulled one of the only non-broken ones out, and put it up to his lips. He had the lighter opened and ready to click it when he turned and saw the look on Jon’s face.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” Gerald asked slowly.
“Do I really have a choice in the mater?” Jon said, looking at the cigarette.
“Right now, you do not,” Gerald said.
“Then I guess I don’t mind,” Jon said, and Gerald immediately lit the end of the paper and tobacco stick and took a deep inhale.
“That’s better,” Gerald said. Just then, his phone rang. He reached down to his belt pouch, pulled it out and flipped it open. “This is Detective Dabrowski,” he said. “Yeah? He’s there now? Great, we’re on our way.”
He turned to look at Jon. “The translator just arrived. We can go talk to the brownies now.”
“Great,” Jon said. “I love talking to the fae.”
Gerald looked over at the older man and smiled around his cigarette. “For a moment there, I almost believed you,” he said, then started his car and drove away.
A few moments later, they were in the precinct interrogation observation room. On one side of the two-way mirror sat a rather frightened brownie. In the observation room with Jon and Gerald was Captain Perkins, a man pushing fifty but in far better shape physically than either Jon or Gerald, which made Jon self conscious. Hovering in the air right next to the captain was a pixy. She was about three inches tall, with lustrous blond hair that was bound back in black ribbons. She wore a miniature power suit that reminded Gerald of his sister’s doll collection from when he was a kid.
“Gentlemen, this is Dame Lavorna,” the captain said, waiving to the pixie, “of the Summer Queen’s Court. She has graciously volunteered her time here to help with the translations of these brownies.”
Jon raised an eyebrow and was about to ask a question when Gerald interrupted him.
“A pleasure, Lady,” Gerald said and bowed. Lavorna ignored him, however, and fluttered over to Jon. It was obvious to the wizard that the dimunitive woman was reading his aura.
“You are a wizard?” she asked. He nodded. “then you no doubt wonder what a fairy of my standing is doing here working as a translator?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” Jon said.
“Simple,” she replied. “For the past few months, fae have begun disappearing in Arcadia. At first, it was the minor races, especially the violent races, like redcaps or goblins. Then, it was noticeable among Summer Court races, like leprechauns and even pixies. And, of course, brownies. Lots of brownies. We had a recent break in our investigations into the disappearances when a brownie witness described the perpetrator. Someone from outside Arcadia. A troll.”
“Let me guess,” Gerald said. “Svergold Yarlson.”
“Yes,” Lavorna nodded. “That was the name that came up in our database when we ran the description through it. Thus why I am here.”
“So,” Jon said, “our troll victim was kidnapping fairies and, what, selling them to the physicist? What for?”
Gerald smiled. “Let’s go talk to the brownies and see if we can’t find out.”
******
“Say that again?” Gerald asked.
“He said that he and his friends had all been experimented on,” Lavorna said. “A machine was attached to their heads and all their magic was sucked out of them, including their translator magic that allowed them to speak with humans.”
“How is that even possible?” Gerald said.
“I don’t know,” Jon said, “but it matches the story of the other three brownies. And my magic indicates that they’re all telling the truth.”
“I concur,” Lavorna said.
“The problem with this,” Gerald said, “is that there was no such machine at the scene. And nothing appeared to be missing.”
“Well,” Jon said, “obviously something was that we didn’t notice.”
The brownie spoke up then, uttering a string of noises that sounded to Gerald like the crunching of leaves combined with someone gargling. Lavorna listened and then turned to the two humans.
“He says he has information on the dragon that freed them,” she said.
“He does?” Gerald brightened at this prospect. “All of his buddies clamped up on this subject.”
“He says that he will offer this information only if I can promise the Queen’s protection,” she replied.
Gerald sat upright in his chair, looking from the pixy to the brownie and back again. “You’ve got my attention,” he said to the brownie, uncaring if the creature understood him. Then he turned back to the pixy, “are you willing to extend such protection?”
“I have been authorized to do so if such information became available,” the fae knight said. “I’ll make the offer now.”
She returned back to the brownie and the two of them held a conversation for some time. Gerald and Jon occasionally asked questions, and in a matter of an hour, they received the information they needed.
“The dragon was there to liberate them?” Gerald said.
“No, to steal the machine,” Jon reminded him. “He swore the brownies to secrecy on pain of death, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Gerald said, thinking. He knew the dragon was the perp from the beginning, but he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of facing a dragon, even with magical support. But now he was talking about facing a dragon with a device that could take magic away from creatures. Not a fun idea.
“We just need to find the dragon,” Jon said. “What about those dragon scales left on the scene?”
“No,” Jon said. “I called about those earlier. The lab ran tests on them, but the scales don’t match any of our records. Whoever this dragon is, he doesn’t have any priors, or is even registered with the government.”
“Maybe the brownie knows something?” Jon suggested.
Lavorna turned and spoke to the brownie some more. When she returned to the two men, her look was not very encouraging.
“He doesn’t know much,” she said. “The dragon didn’t speak a lot, except to threaten the brownies. Apparently, the dragon was only interested in the machine. He did mention a name, though, but it’s obviously a alias, for it is no dragon name.”
“What is it?” Gerald said.
“Ondalaka,” she said. “I am unfamiliar with the word, but as I said, it is obviously no dragon name.”
“No,” Gerald said, smiling. “But it is a name I know.”
The other two looked at him, confused.
“It’s the name of an old night club, closed down a few years ago due to some questionable business practices,” Gerald said. “They were trying to make a human’s only club that featured... er… exotic entertainment from the fairy realms. Ondalaka was the name of the wizard that built the place.”
“Is this club building still around?” Lavorna asked.
“It is,” Gerald said. “No one bought the location after it was closed down.”
“Well, then let’s go,” Jon said.
“I wish to come with you,” Lavorna said. “This dragon possesses a weapon that is very dangerous to my queen.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Gerald said, bowing low to the diminutive knight. The fae then left the room first and Gerald started following behind. Jon, however, grabbed his partners by the shoulder and pulled him aside.
“Gerald,” Jon said, “I’m sure how to put this, so I’ll just say it. You do realize that our fine knight there is only three inches tall, right?”
“Yeah,” Gerald smiled, “but pixies have the power to shrink humans to their size.”
“She’s a knight,” Jon said, “in the direct service of the Queen of the Summer Court.”
“So,” Gerald said, “out of my league?”
“Out of your league,” Jon said.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Gerald said, and the two laughed and followed after the pixie.
******
Less than two hours later, the three of them, plus a large SWAT team, had a small, boarded up building surrounded. The remains of a few signs still proclaimed the building to be Ondalaka. There were reports from the sharp shooters on the roofs of nearby buildings that the roof to the roof to Ondalaka had a massive hole in it, large enough for a dragon to get in and out, for sure, but they couldn’t see anything inside. Jon confirmed that it was a magical darkness. His magical scans indicated that the dragon was, in fact, home, and it was likely that the dragon knew they were all outside.
“Attention Dragon inside the Ondalaka building,” Gerald said into a loud speaker, “This is the police. You are under arrest for the murders of Doctor Richard Worthy and Master Wizard Svergold Yarlson. Come quietly, and you won’t be harmed.”
There was only silence. Gerald let it drag out for a few minutes before lifting the loud speaker back to his mouth.
“We have you surrounded,” he said. “My men are armed with Dragonhide shells, and a few of them have been magically enchanted to seek you out specifically, thanks to the dragon scales you left behind at the scene of the crime. I don’t want to send my men in after you, but I will if you leave me with no other choice.”
There was more silence, and Gerald began to suspect that the dragon wasn’t really in there. He sent a questioning glare at Jon, who only nodded his head. Gerald turned to the officer in charge of the SWAT and nodded. The other man started yelling commands into his walkie-talkie, and in a matter of seconds, the whole SWAT team had descended on Ondalaka.
No shots were fired, which made Gerald suspicious. The men reported nothing but darkness, and so switched to magical goggles that allowed them to see through illusions. They reported what appeared to be bullet holes and other signs of a fight. Then, they spotted the dragon. He was lying down on the ground, apparently unconscious.
“I think he’s dead, sir,” a SWAT officer reported over the walkie-talkie. The SWAT lieutenant looked over to Gerald, who shrugged. He nodded over to Jon and Lavorna, and the three of them went into the building. There was definitely a firefight here, with emphasis on fire. Whatever it was that happened here, the dragon fought back. A brief exanimation of the room also indicated that the machine was missing. Someone had not only known about the machine, but that this dragon with no identity had it. And on top of it all, they had beaten the police to the punch in getting it.
There was a complete examination of the Ondalaka building, but there wasn’t much to indicate what happened. Whoever attacked the dragon was able to get close to the beast before the attack happened. And they weren’t alone, either. But who they were remained a mystery.
******
Jon sat in his office a few days latter, reviewing the case. He knew that whomever it was that took the machine was going to try and weaponize it. Imagine, a machine that could steal the magical energy of a living being. He also knew they weren’t going to have a lot of luck with that. It took him most of the day searching through the building, and another two days to organize the papers once he had them. But now, he had an almost complete report in front of him. It was far bigger than just the few pages Gerald had at the beginning of the investigation, and went into far deeper and more advanced formulas. And sure, some pages were missing, but Jon had enough that he figured he could fill in the blanks once he’d studied it more. He hadn’t told Gerald about it yet, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
Jon knew that whoever had the machine didn’t know how to use it. They needed this report. And that meant they would come looking for it one day and, by virtue of him having it, him too. Jon looked over the report again and smiled.
When they came looking for him, he would be ready.
The End
Week 24
Well, another week, and another story!
This week's story was prompted by my entry in the Five Minute Fiction contest. The prompt was "report" and a rather amazing story came out of it. Talk about inspiration! I wrote over 300 words in five minutes! I liked the story so much, I fleshed it out some and made it this week's story. I thought, though, as an added bonus, I'd post the original 300 word story here, so you can compare and enjoy. So, here it is, the original, short, Report.
The Report
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Gerald said.
He’d been walking this beat for fifteen years now, had worked his way up from a foot cop to a detective, and still mostly kept to the same beat. In all that time, though, he had never seen anything like this.
“What do we have here, Officer?” he said to the duty officer.
“Looks like a dragon attack, sir,” he said.
Gerald had already figured that part out. There were red dragon scales all over the place, and the building they were looking at had been burned on one side. It had to be a dragon. But that didn’t explain the dead troll, the dead scientist and the fact that the place was just crawling with brownies. Gerald hated the fae, and brownies the most. The little suckers trashed his car last week. ‘We just want to clean your windshield,’ they had said. Right.
“I got that much,” he sighed, “I mean what do you have for information on the reason behind the attack.”
“Not much, sir,” said the duty officer. “Just this.”
He handed Gerald a manila folder with a plastic tab on it. A little bit of paper in the tab had some writing on it, but all it said was ‘Report.’ No number, no idea of what the report was on, nothing. Gerald opened the report and gave it a brief scan. Mystical drawings and arcain formula were side by side with scientific formula, and it looked like two different hand writings for both sets of notes. More disturbing, it looked like they were trying to find a way to combine the two styles of controlling the world.
Gerald looked over at the troll again, and saw the telltale tattoo that marked him as a wizard. Whatever was going on here, the death of these two were just the beginning of things.
“Sergeant,” he said to the duty officer, “get me some coffee. This is going to be a long night.”
The End
This week's story was prompted by my entry in the Five Minute Fiction contest. The prompt was "report" and a rather amazing story came out of it. Talk about inspiration! I wrote over 300 words in five minutes! I liked the story so much, I fleshed it out some and made it this week's story. I thought, though, as an added bonus, I'd post the original 300 word story here, so you can compare and enjoy. So, here it is, the original, short, Report.
The Report
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Gerald said.
He’d been walking this beat for fifteen years now, had worked his way up from a foot cop to a detective, and still mostly kept to the same beat. In all that time, though, he had never seen anything like this.
“What do we have here, Officer?” he said to the duty officer.
“Looks like a dragon attack, sir,” he said.
Gerald had already figured that part out. There were red dragon scales all over the place, and the building they were looking at had been burned on one side. It had to be a dragon. But that didn’t explain the dead troll, the dead scientist and the fact that the place was just crawling with brownies. Gerald hated the fae, and brownies the most. The little suckers trashed his car last week. ‘We just want to clean your windshield,’ they had said. Right.
“I got that much,” he sighed, “I mean what do you have for information on the reason behind the attack.”
“Not much, sir,” said the duty officer. “Just this.”
He handed Gerald a manila folder with a plastic tab on it. A little bit of paper in the tab had some writing on it, but all it said was ‘Report.’ No number, no idea of what the report was on, nothing. Gerald opened the report and gave it a brief scan. Mystical drawings and arcain formula were side by side with scientific formula, and it looked like two different hand writings for both sets of notes. More disturbing, it looked like they were trying to find a way to combine the two styles of controlling the world.
Gerald looked over at the troll again, and saw the telltale tattoo that marked him as a wizard. Whatever was going on here, the death of these two were just the beginning of things.
“Sergeant,” he said to the duty officer, “get me some coffee. This is going to be a long night.”
The End
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
