This story follows a gambler’s chain of thoughts through a game which will sound like a mix of chess and poker. There is some inspiration drawn from Iain Banks, which is despite my criticism of his works. There is some overlap in what he has written and what I link to think about. My complaint of his work would be the execution rather than a complaint of his underlying ideas.

For those that have read my collection of sci-fi short stories may also be pleased to know that this one is set in the same Universe.

Convexity

The Light was quiet this evening, despite the fact that it was hosting the big game. Space junkers still punted their wares; guards still patrolled; drinkers still drank; and those of us who gambled vast fortunes still lost. No one cared about the big game. No one, except the gamblers and even we gamblers were a rare species on the Light these days. Where was the crowd? Tonight saw half of the galaxy’s top players, all of whom staked big on great and terrible hands alike, congregate at Armon’s bar for what ought to be the most exciting game in years.

Despite losing three crates of steel no one said “oooh” or “ahhh”. Popularity had dwindled to the point where “King” Darsam lost his planet, and three billion inhabitants in a single hand, it had only been witnessed by the players and the four drunks who propped up the bar. Who knows if the drunks were paying attention or just grunting at random intervals?

A view-screen behind the bar showed the other big game of the evening. Perhaps the drunks were watching Magball? But what was the appeal in watching 40 adults running around a maze throwing a metallic ball at each other? Sure there was skill involved but the outcomes were too predictable – the same teams always won the league.

Kerval could count five teams that had won the league in the last twenty series. The amateur leagues were more exciting, greater randomness, but their appeal was far more niche and only a few people talked about them. Joining an amatuer Magball appreciation club was beyond Kerval’s interest. He admired them, the amateurs, they played with heart and local rivalries were always fierce. Another problem with the big leagues was the player churn — Blitzer Zal had played for ten teams in the last eight series. Where was the loyalty, the dedication and passion to and for one team and one set of fans?

Three hammers, two daggers and five coin cards. Shit. Kerval had let his mind wander again. His brow unconsciously furrowed, but he caught himself. Give no signals. He wanted to scratch the itch at the end of his nose but feared this would signal that his hands were empty. This was only the beginning and already it felt like a rout.

He looked at his cards again and hoped they had changed. A card of four coins, the best he held, but the other two coin cards weren’t charged. They were blank; no coins. He guessed that a single card of four wouldn’t be enough to overturn the five separate coin cards of his nearest opponent. The first player was strong; Kerval was second in line to play but he was empty. Four sets of eyes to his left waited for him to make his move. If he could play the three plus the two empty coins then he might be able to bluff a defence.

The first player had a good hand and knew it. This gentleman had played his cards face up and was notably smug about it. Kerval cringed. No signals. Unfurrow that brow. Keep those lips straight. It was a mantra for Kerval. The face-up placement of cards was bold but not wholly arrogant. He saw it as a confident move with much merit. Such moves often ward off bluff attacks that can bleed a player before a large assault later in the game. Kerval had been, and had often partaken in, double teaming a number of opponents. Everyone at this level knew it would happen several times in a series.

There was a chance that if Kerval placed his hand face down he could pretend to have untold power. It wasn’t common for players to place very powerful cards face down in order to lure opponents into a trap. It can work wonders: an opponent’s ten card power play can be demolished in a single hand. Kerval smiled, almost laughing. What was he going to do with a backwards planet with a population of three billion primitives? Darsam had practically handed him the keys to the palace. Although Kerval knew that he might be forced to wager all of that in this game. He’d lose the planet but stay in the game. You win some, you lose some.

[More to come! Watch this space]

Also posted on the Shroud of the Avatar forums.

Now available as spoken word (free!) at The Caverns.

The Lion and The Goose

A soft candescent light brushed against the lion’s cheek. Glimmering rays on paths unknown; down from the sun and through the hills and glens. Wandering, lost; the rays would roam and fill the world.

Night encroached as the sun descended to rest. The sky appeared as bloodied and torn; clear of cloud to reveal the sparkling diamonds upon the blackened velvet of the beyond. The palette of colours still held the ocean blue of daylight. A dash of white and grey appeared to have been dropped on the canvas without thought or reason. In the twillight the wind did not know if it should rest or blow.

In the lion’s mind it was still day; he danced under the sun upon the golden fields of the Vale.

Here. There. Everywhere. All would become night.

Quietness abounded. Silence spread as fire to leave the lion in solemnity.

The walls, charred. Windows, dusted and barred. Crops, ashen. All now cold. All was darkened afore the lion.

“Was I not magnificent?” boasted the lion. His barrel chest protruded towards the mirror.

“You were the most magnificent m’lord, yet no cheers,” chided the goose.

“Do you not see the makings of a king?”

“I see a goose,” said the goose.

“Yet it was I, the lion, who was victorious. It was I, the lion, who destroyed their homestead and tore their walls asunder,” the lion raised his voice, a sonorous rumble that nailed the goose where he stood, “it is I who shall rule Novia.”

“Yet here you are, a goose, pouting before a fallen mirror. A figure within a ruin, hidden away on the Vale.”

“I am a lion from a great house of lions. My crest, a lion; my family, all lions. I am courageous, as a lion.”

“My lord, you have forgotten yourself. You are a goose. I see it true for I am a goose too.”

The sun no more atop its perch. The room passed to unrelenting darkness, yet through the crack in the roof a wandering lunar light peaked through upon the lion and the goose.

Here. There. Everywhere. Fragments of light

Silence and solemnity. Once more.

The lion started back at the goose. No movement, naught a twitch; no sound at all. A lick of wind brushed through the door and whipped the dust along the floor like scurrying mice.

“Is this madness?” whispered the lion.

“This is madness,” whispered the goose.

The door creaked ajar. A soft patter of footsteps followed after the wind. Who was there? Another goose?

“My love what have you done to yourself?” that voice. It was familiar feminine voice. Sweetness; a dulcet and soft warmth of concubinal love.

“Nothing… I’m here. I became caught in a dream. Nothing more.”

“Why is there broken glass upon the floor?” the feminine voice became charged. She gasped. “The mirror! It’s broken. What have you done?”

“I did not choose it. I was told to do it.”

“Did you gaze once more upon the moon? You cannot, must not, let the shattered moonlight shine upon your soul for it will be reflected within you.”

“Do you see a lion?” asked the man.

“I see a man who should be my husband; a man, a lord and a leader of people… but who is troubled by the moon.”

(557 words – also, now available as spoken word (free!) at The Caverns)

Shroud of the Avatar

Journey to the world of Shroud of the Avatar: Forsaken Virtues, a computer role playing game created by the legendary Richard “Lord British” Garriott, creator of the genre defining Ultima series of computer role-playing games, Starr Long, director of Ultima Online, and Tracy Hickman, author of the Dragonlance series. It combines a rich story like those of the single player Ultimas with deep and varied multiplayer experiences like Ultima Online.

Note: “Short” is relating to the concept of running a short position where a financial instrument is borrowed and sold. It is mostly a metaphor here.

Apocalypse Short

The deal was in the bag, they hung on his every word. Money would flow from the decision maker and from not the pen pushing, policy making, aides that sat at either side. James had a good feeling about this one. He was feeling smug that he had ignored their local customs and sense of fashion but still managed to sign the deal. Almost sign the deal, he corrected himself. Their fashion of shirt and tie which is considered old school on James’s planet, it hadn’t been used for at least a hundred years. Sure, ties were popular once, James didn’t deny that and admitted that they carried an air of old wealth in his part of the galaxy but they are less practical and less functional than today’s one piece bodysuits.

  The hover lanes were packed with cars, as they were every day at lunch time, the hustle and bustle distracted James from listening to his clients. The coffee hadn’t been strong enough either. Who made it? They needed a lesson in preparing the good stuff. Was weak coffee another tradition of this backwater planet?

  How old is that tie style anyway? James had completely zoned out from what the female aide was saying. Something about policy documentation for transfer of public funds. Yawn. His mind fondly wandered back to the holo-image on his desk, it was taken his grandfather’s house when he was a young boy wearing a suit to his own great grandfather’s funeral. A sombre image, no doubt, yet a peaceful one that kindled a warm feeling of familiarity and comfort. That was a long time ago when his planet still wore ties.

  “…and yes the returns are impressive.” James’s attention came back into the conversation. Returns, someone said returns. Money, investment, profit, returns, oh yes lovely returns. Steak for lunch? He bit his knuckle to prevent from yawning again, he thought he got away with it the first time. Why didn’t they wear name badges? How was he supposed to remember their names?

 “Mr Swannick?” her voice was soft, mesmerizing.

 “Yes? Sorry, what? Oh, and please, call me James.”

 “We were just saying that while your evidence is compelling, and your arguments are convincing, we still need more time before we can reach a decision.”

 “I see, but otherwise you are ready to sign the documents?” James asked.

 “I think we are ready but the decision has to go to the cabinet,” the decision maker spoke up. This is the one James needed to work on.

 “Well, as I’ve shown in my presentation, our company has demonstrated considerably returns on all investments with steady profits every year… and of course when I say steady I mean steady growth. Chart 31, as you probably remember, showed the increase of profit per year on the last planet where we sold our proprietary investment solutions. We were aiming to replicate the same strategy on this planet, we’ve contacted your government first, but we’d be willing to work with any government. Given the size of your nation versus the others, it makes sense to pitch our products to the largest first. Charts 36 and 37 showed the projections of revenues and profits that we expect for your pension pot based upon our models. We’ve never failed.”

  “Yet.” Her voice was smooth yet feisty, James wished that she had forgone wearing a business suit.

 “What was this on page 53 about fee structure, I didn’t quite understand the statement ‘typical fee structure of five-fifty’. What does that mean?” the third delegate spoke up, this one was the smart quiet type, he might be harder to convince. His voice was quieter than the others and yet his gaze was more penetrating. James felt intimidated. Did this one even blink?

 “Oh that,” James almost laughed,”it is off-world talk for how we apply fees to your investment. Unfortunately our services are not free, we are not but humble yet gifted off-worlders who have come in search of opportunities. Fortunately, the profit will easily cover the fees as you saw in the projection graphs. It does not matter if the markets are up, down or sideways; we will make money whatever the conditions and, therefore, so will you.” James smiled.

 “Yes, you said,” the female interjected again, “but we’ve never seen such strategies before so we are hesitant about investing our nation’s pension pot into an untested scheme.”

 James looked back to the man sat in the middle, the decision maker, “let’s talk investment sizes, what do you think would be a fair amount?”

 “Well we don’t have an exact figure-”

 “But something? What is it roughly going to be?”

 “I-I coul- couldn’t give… an exact amount, no, it would be something around… well, I don’t know-”

 “Around?” James pushed.

 “Perhaps a trillion notes or so.”

 “So about one percent of the total pension pot?” James asked.

 “Closer to two percent,” the female aide said, “which is a lot more than I am comfortable with.”

 “I think two percent sounds like a perfectly reasonable start,” James countered.

 “Mr Swann… uh, James, sorry, you didn’t clarify the fee structure well enough,” the quiet aide spoke this time.

 “Five percent up front then fifty percent of the profit each year. It might seem steep but it keeps our programmers incentivized to do well… you know how they are, they speak to each other in computer riddles and don’t always shower…” James drifted off and then realised he probably shouldn’t have said that,”but they do a fantastic job and you won’t find a better product in the galaxy, probably not even in the next galaxy over either,”

 “Fifty percent? That’s far too high,” the female responded.

 “I’d say we deliver good value for money, no company will provide the returns we do. Our company has the best off-world technology combined with our proprietary trading software, it will literally blow your socks off.” James smiled although feared the conversation was slipping into dangerous territory again. It was safe, it was secured, all he needed was a signature. “Perhaps you’d like to see our server room? Ok, not really, only joking, no one wants to see a grey room full of boxes but I would like a signature on this document I prepared.” James brought out a computer pad and showed it to the man in the middle.

 “Can we meet your team?” the quieter male asked.

 James felt stuck for words. The programmers weren’t the most polished group of people, there was no telling if they had even groomed themselves this morning.

 “Oh, not a problem, let’s send around some messages later this week after I’ve had time to check our calendar. I’m sure we can schedule something…” after the documents have been signed, James wanted to say the last part but shut his mouth in time. He remembered to smile again. He knew his lips looked like plastic but it was better to smile than frown. Make sure they never doubt. Keep smiling. Don’t let them see doubt. Make them believe. He continued to recite sales aphorisms to himself.

 “How about now? We have spare time, the cabinet won’t meet until late afternoon,” the quiet one spoke up. James looked at him and then the female on the other side. The pair of them, the two aides, were the bane of the conversation. Adding only the most unnecessary prattle; questions upon questions upon questions, and that was before and after the complaints.

 “Uh… well… I, y’know… I wouldn’t recommend that.” James nodded to agree with himself, “they stare at graphs all day, not really the most extroverted group of people. I mean these guys look at graphs just for fun, can you believe it? They bring me graphs all day long but I tell them ‘guys, this has to stop, you can’t just come into my office every time the green line crosses the blue line, after crossing the red line and the black line,’ you catch my drift? They once brought me a graph of computer power consumption, they tried to tell me that the power usage of our servers had a significant pattern to it. Look, their conversation is dry, but you might get lucky and they might talk about opportunities in the new commodity markets that we are bringing to your world but don’t hold your breath for much else. Did I mention the new market that we would bring here? The Ferro-plasti compounds from Vost?”

 “You did, perhaps an hour ago,” the female informed him.

 “Yes, of course, how silly of me to forget. I mentioned the new electronic currencies too? Proof-of-work, it is all the rage off-world.”

 “The legislation came in the same bill.”

 “Meeting the investment team sounds exciting,” the deal maker said.

 “More of a programming team than an investment team,” James corrected,”I shall inform them to tidy up be we arrive.” James sighed and lead the three politicians out of his office and towards the elevators.

  “In this office we have our product designers and analysts, they also do lots of programming but less so than our strategy team.”

 “Let’s meet the programmers shall we?” the decision maker asked.

 “Yes, let’s,” James feigned happiness, the elevator ride was paradoxically too short to prevent the politicians meeting the team yet far too long to listen to their annoying voices. “As a reminder we cover every market; all the old ones that your world already had, plus some new alternatives based upon the existing infrastructure, such as high frequency permit option trading and collateralized future-policy structured insurance products. Then there are the wide range of cryptocurrencies, cyptobonds plus a whole set of options, futures and forwards priced in the new myriad currencies.”

 “What is it that options provide?”

 “Optionality,” James replied, “and this is our programming team. We had best not stay long, their work is invaluable and they don’t need the distraction.” James lead the politicians into the programmers’ office.

 “Is that a graph of power consumption?” the decision maker asked, he looked at the nearest computer screen and directed his question to the seated user.

James could tell that a little knowledge could be dangerous here. The question sounded naive, but just naive enough that he would sign the documents.

 “No, that’s the distribution of arrival times of all the mag-trains that run on local tracks.”

 “Does that affect price?”

 “Not really, I just wanted to see what the probability was of making it home for prime-time tv,” the programmer said.

 “Well… the power distribution on the grid can affect prices,”  a voice piped up from across the room, “the power distribution across the national grid is far more erratic than predicted and the trains have quite a large effect locally. At peak times it can affect our power availability. We run a lot of computers so a steady power supply is necessary. In the end, that can affect price.”

 “I’m not sure I understand what that means,” the decision maker chuckled.

 “It means that our team of experts have considered all the angles and that you shouldn’t worry. In fact, the let me in on a little secret earlier. They are going to create new products based upon the energy distribution network and monetize it in the financial markets. Don’t worry, it will be priced to sell. Whenever energy is used it will move around the grid at different but predictable rates. This is where our learning algorithms come into play, we will be able to take advantage of the price patterns.”

 This was going better than expected, the office was tidy and so far nothing had caused the politicians to leave. Perhaps meeting the programming team would build confidence in their decision to invest with the company.

 “Of the 21 major nations with developed markets we aim to provide 12 products for every nation,” one of the programmers instructed the decision maker. This is going to be the deal signed. The graphs looked convincing, James thought.

 “How do you like our programming team? Ready to sign yet?”

 “Yes we can sign your document but with the proviso that it is ratified by the government cabinet,” the deal maker replied.

 “Great, so sometime later this afternoon?”

200 days in.

  “The fund is running well, we discover new correlations all the time. It matters not so much the direction but rather we let the computers follow what’s happening in the market,” James discussed the fund’s activities with a prospective client. They, too, had insisted on meeting the programming team. The suggestion that energy consumption was important lead to many questions. The team had designed and created a new product that was based on energy consumption.

 The conversation was more complicated than the previous time. The product had been created and had evolved with the energy market. It seemed that there was a self-correcting relationship between the prices and the creation of energy. Sometimes self-reinforcing and at other times self-correcting. The programmer had explained it to James before but it wasn’t the easiest concept to grasp nor was it explained in a manner that anyone could understand. Programmers did that, they spoke in riddles.

 Absolute numbers can disagree but we should be looking at percentages rather than absolute numbers when dealing with populations of different sizes. Ok, that was simple statistics as far as James understood it. A larger population used more energy but the energy per person could be the same. Then came the harder part, the energy per person may decrease with population size, and therefore lower than expected due to systematic efficiencies as populations increased. However, what if the population was aware of a fluctuating energy price and that their own actions could affect the price?

 That’s where James’s understanding started to fade. The arguments made sense up to that point but he struggled to fully imagine the causal relation between the two.

355 days in.

  “What’s the instrument code you’re looking at?”

  “20121221,” came the reply.

An entire planet gone in an instant. Nothing. Nada. Gone. The unforeseen death of billions from a glitch in the electrical supplies had a knock-on chaotic effect causing a melt-down all the planet with a single miscalculation.

Untitled (“Pirate Queen”)

Zsilana awoke with the taste of blood on her lips and a pounding headache. She felt around to see if her clothes were still intact. ‘I wasn’t raped, at least,’ she concluded in silence while surveying the cubic room in which she lay. Only a single door and no window.

“How’s the cell?” At first she thought she dreamt the voice but there was a shimmer of light and shadow through the gap in the door.

“Go die in a hole scumbag.”

“That’s no way to get released.” said a muffled masculine voice with no obvious accent. Moments passed where nothing was said. “That ship you knocked off, bet you think that was funny.” The voice did not echo once but vanished into silence. “You won’t be laughing if you knew who I was. You better wipe that smile off your face, that was my ship you tried to knock off.”

“Yeah… that’s nice.”

“Don’t expect me to take this lightly.”

 “Sure buddy, I jack ships like that all the time. Now throw me the key and I’ll be on my way.”

 “Oh, but you haven’t jacked my ships before… and that’s why you were lucky, until now.”

 “Sounds like you were the lucky one.”

 “When captains lose ships, they lose reputation. When I lose ships I lose billions of credits. I have zero tolerance for piracy, and zero tolerance for scum like you.”

 “What’s a few billion gallons of Jumu cola between friends?”

 “Funny. I’ve seen your work before, I know fellow business owners that have been damaged by your exploits. Those vac-missile drones rip holes in the side of the hulls and if the ships aren’t destroyed then they are forced to limp home with an injured crew. The size of the holes are larger than this security cabin. Do you think about the crews when you perform your heinous acts?”

 “Casualties are part of the job. Flying through space is a dangerous way to live. If it isn’t an asteroid that gets you then its the damn pirates.” Zsilana laughed.

 “Do you know who you stole from?” he barked, “do you know who I am?”

 “Everyone, anyone. I do my research, I know what’s on each vessel before I take it but I’m not so picky; Jumu Cola today, Azorn Minerals yesterday and who knows what tomorrow brings?”

 “Both companies have legal rights to safe passage in Terosan space, as documented in the Kyopix agreement.” His monotonous voice was beginning to irritate Zsilana. Where was he from anyway? “Safe and unhindered passage, I should add.”

 “We’re not in Terosan space, and since when did Kyopix care so much about their workers? I’ve met hundreds of former Kyopix workers in Indie sectors before.” Zsilana replied.

 “The ships are owned by Kyopix. They are my ships. I don’t like it when people damage my vessels. The cola is less of a concern but I do own 30% of the company’s stock.” That had to be the smuggest voice in the whole galaxy, perhaps he wasn’t always so monotonous.

 “So I can keep 70% of it and you can let me out?”

 “Zsilana…” the wall began to vibrate accompanied by an awful whirring sound. A viewport appeared on the blank wall that gave Zsilana a view of the space outside. “Take a look outside. I’m not playing games.” An explosion roared in front of her. An intense shock of shrapnel bounced against the hull of the security cabin.

 “Am I supposed to be impressed by the bright lights?”

 “That was one of your ships, CAL 34. Designation, light freighter, if I’m not mistaken.”

 “And my crew?”

 “They’re safe. I’m not a murderer but you need to learn your lesson.”

 “I have more ships, one isn’t a big loss,” Zsilana said.

 “Is it not? I don’t enjoy losing a ship and I would gauge that you don’t either. You hide your feelings well. Keep watching.” Another explosion occurs outside.

 “I don’t think that’s legal, not this close to the station.”

 “Legal? Don’t make me laugh my pretty. You know nothing of legal.”

 “So why are you talking to me if I am to be punished?”

 “It amuses me to see you in there. I’ve heard much about you, Zsilana, but never had the good fortune to meet you, and now favourable circumstances have presented you here with little effort from myself. It was like I just had to think it and you put yourself in front me. Just when I need you. Perhaps it is serendipity?”

 “You? Need me?”

 “I have a proposition… one that will let you out here, without punishment… but I’ll be taking back the Jumu cola. All of it.”

 “What will I have to do?”

 “What you normally do: steal. There is something that I would like to have. Something that Kyopix feels it could benefit from but it isn’t something that we can acquire so easily ourselves. You see, Terosan recently purchased an intergalactic propulsion system. Not star to star, but galaxy to galaxy. Can you imagine the wealth we could reap with such a device? Why fight over congested starlanes and limited resources when you could jump to a whole other galaxy with a whole load of other resources. We’d be rich beyond belief.”

 “Isn’t the Kyopix Consortium already rich beyond belief? Don’t answer that. I know the answer already. I have to say I’m curious, I didn’t know such technology existed… or could exist. How exactly did Terosan ‘purchase’ this device?”

“Ah, with great cost I assume… from the Hayf Imperium. Unfortunately, Terosan has no intention of sharing this technological wonder… and, well, we want it…” She had a feeling he was smirking but the next thing he was going to say was inevitable. “And you will get it for us.”

 “Hayf? As in the Hayf Imperium?” She expelled her breath in disbelief, “Nah, now you are just making fun of me. I don’t believe it. Not for a second. First, it was an intergalactic drive, then you make it worse by suggesting the Hayf traded it to Terosan. Perhaps you want me to walk over space there, naked, and simply pick it up with my bare hands? Well, of course I’ll knock their door first. I best be polite about it, right?”

 “Hayf, as in the Hayf Imperium. Yes, the same people. We were astonished by it too but that’s what our intel tells us and we know the intel is reliable. I can show you the archive of our doc-streams. Terosan did an impressive job of keeping this one quiet, very quiet. We only learnt about the deal after the delivery was concluded… and I can’t think of a single other times that’s happened… at least not for a long time. What terms Hayf accepted are unknown, but we both know technology like that can’t be cheap. Such a device would lead to untold fortunes and power. I assume that you want to be there along for the ride, don’t you?”

 “Why me?” Zsilana asked.

 “Are you not the best person for the job?” Zsilana smirked at this coy reply, but kept her lips sealed. She waited; baiting him to say more. He muttered, “are you looking for me to give you some praise little girl?” He laughed.

 “Nah…” She paused, “I’m not interested, I’d rather just pay a fine and get out,” Zsilana replied.

 “I can hold you there indefinitely. We’re not in Terosan space as you so rightly pointed out; we’re in wild space, the independent paradise for criminals. Who will come to ensure that you have your rights? Money talks and I’ve bought everyone. You’re in here and you’re staying in here… unless I decide to change my mind.”

 He had a point, “let’s say I do this… how exactly do I get around the Terosan fleet?”

 “Come.” The voice beckoned. The cell door slid open. “Just steal the device and bring it back to me. Simple.”

 Zsilana stood up and strolled out of the door. She exited into the inspection room and saw her would-be employer flanked by two armed guards. A man of similar height and a face of smoothed out wrinkles. An impossible monochrome block of slick backed hair sat atop his head.

 “Their defenses will be down, we’ve got that covered. All you have to do is get inside and take it.”

 Her eyes were caught his and fixed upon him a moment too long, “men definitely get better with age.” She whistled then stepped close to smell his odour. If he’s that way inclined his eyes would follow the cleavage. Zsilana hoped to turn his excitement into favour. Manipulation was always the key to getting ahead. He looked. His eyes dipped. She smiled. The Kyopix boss reached out a hand towards her breasts and grabbed at the ID tags that hung around her neck.

 “Fake tags.” He pulled the tags free and slipped out the hidden data-chip. “Hidden credit chip. Counterfeit too? This is too cliched. I have to laugh.”

 Zsilana snatched at the credit chip. She leaned closer to peck a kiss upon his lips. “No touching. Touching is extra. I’ll get the device but you’ll need to replace those two ships you just destroyed.” Zsilana smirked.

 “You’ll get them.”

 “You set the location and time, and I’ll create the extraction plan. This should be a routine operation, although it is one with considerable risk. The device stays with me until payment is settled. If you fail to pay then I destroy the device,” Zsilana said.

 “It won’t come to that. Payment will be generous, I can assure you. A hundred thousand credits per head should cover it.”

 “That won’t even cover the damage they’ll do to my ships. Five hundred!”

 “I’ll advance you two hundred and that ought to see your ships ready for action. The final repair costs will be covered when you return. Plus an additional hundred per head on delivery.”

 “I want two hundred before I agree to this. Send me the details and I’ll review them. Right now, I need to get back to my ship. The crew will be missing me.” She blew a kiss and walked out of the inspection room.  (edited to here)

Kyopix released control of Zsilana’s fleet and returned her crew. Her return to the ship was short lived, a quick reconciliation with the crew before coming back to the station. They allowed her lead ship to wait at one of the company’s own airlocks⎼a premium spot near the market deck. The walk from ship to market was less than two minutes. Zsilana’s heart beated quicker when the airlock opened on to the main thoroughfare of the market deck. She beamed with excitement. This was a small perk but definitely a worthy sweetener. Her usual docking section was several floors away and required a series of lifts that ensured double-backing on yourself just to get to market. It sounded like madness to anyone that hadn’t visited before, but the station wasn’t designed and built as a single entity⎼it had grown organically, module by module.

 Luryae grinned, she held her captain’s hand as they walked into the market. The open air structure showcased a hive of merchant coves intermingled with bars and portable stalls. This module of the station was a half-sphere several stories in height; all the coves appeared to be dug into the exterior frame and faced inwardly looking at each other across the open plaza.

 Ups and acrosses⎼walkways joined one level to another⎼a web of traffic enhancers. Walk on the left, stand or loiter on the right. Never block a walkway. Alcohol must only be consumed in the designated areas. All chemical inhalers must be smokeless (unless inside privileged premises). Walk don’t run. Talk don’t shout. Mobile communicators must be no more powerful than a hundred squats.

 For all that the station was free from Terosan Zsilana felt it ironic that the station had so many rules. She remembered her first visit here with her parents. Evacuees, dirty, smelly, poor, impolite and homeless but that made them cleaner than half the spacejunkers that called Ardent Light their home. Zsilana fondly remembered the creaky welds that joined two mismatched and decaying ship hulls at their seams. Nothing ever fit right, nothing was painted or sealed either. If mice lived in space they could race from top to bottom in a day.

 Those days were an appendage to the modern station. Ardent Light had evolved a long way from its chaotic patchwork beginning. The Kyopix Consortium had done much to modernize the station in an effort to commercialize it, boost local trade, and then extract as much profit from it as possible. They can’t claim to have put the station on the galactic charts but they definitely made it the most popular independent destination bar none. The station had ballooned in population and size since Kyopix bought it. Zsilana reluctantly admitted to herself that it was probably for the best. Tripped out spacejunkers threatening families with extortion wasn’t the best upbringing for a child, and that was something that Zsilana longed to forget.

 Ardent Light was so large that smaller stations orbited it. These new stations catered for specialist needs: refueling, repairs, storage and any needs of the space traveller. The main station had become premium real estate, her mother had predicted. She told Zsilana to watch how big cities can grow by being popular. It was a natural law of the universe as far as her mother was concerned.

If the smaller stations around The Light wasn’t impressive enough then any first timer would be amazed by the the fleets of ships that floated just out of touching distance. The fleets, like the stations, conducted trade and exchanged services with one another. The Light was almost superfluous because it was dwarfed in size compared to the far spread fleets of ships, yet it was the focal point that held everything together. Kyopix reminded everyone that it was the locus of independent commerce.

 “So when will you tell me about this job we got? Is it safe? It sounds too good to be true. Think about it. We all got strung up and now we’re out because the guy doesn’t want to press charges. There is something you’re not telling me,” Luryae probed.

 “Kee, my darling, you gotta trust me on this one. There’s a lot of risk but we can pull it off… I just can’t talk about it in the open.”

 After a quick stroll across the market plaza Zsilana lead them into a shadowy corridor thatshe guessed would lead to further airlocks. In a nearby alcove hid a bank of vending machines.

 “Freebie?” Zsilana smirked and inserted her fake credit chip into a machine.

 “Gimme a Jumu,” Luryae laughed. “Did you give it all back?”

 “The Jumu shipment? He took it while we were incarcerated but we’ll make more on this job than we would have made selling cola.”

 “So, about this job… what is it?”

 “We have been asked to steal something… something big. Kyopix only released us without charges since I agreed to the job. They have agreed to pay us well for the delivery of a certain item.”

 “You said it will be risky, how risky? This item has to be important to simply let us go. It can’t be something so easy to get or they would have bought it already. Kyopix are a powerful player in the galaxy, why would they want our help?”

 “It’s a high level job and this will secure our reputation as a powerful player in the galaxy. We can do it. We can steal anything, isn’t that what we always tell ourselves? No job too big and leave no path unwalked. That’s why they asked us: we can steal anything but Kyopix can’t. They can’t risk their reputation but you’re right it is something they can’t buy, so they want to steal it. That’s where we come in.”

 Luryae grumbled, she didn’t like the risky jobs. She’d agree to go but her expression always betrayed her feelings. “The last high level job we tried almost got us killed. Can you promise me that won’t happen?”

 “This job is risky and I can’t promise we won’t die. If things go awry we can run. We’ve done that all our lives. We’ll make it out. Trust me on this one, the stakes are worth it. When we’re done you can visit Vinri, as you always wanted.”

 “I’m thinking… that I don’t have a choice, you’re going and I can’t let you down. I don’t like the smell of this, we should be rotting in a jail cell, and we would be if it wasn’t for our mysterious benefactor. One who works for Kyopix? So who is our employer exactly?”

 “Oh… only the CEO of Kyopix. The guy at the top of the food chain.”

 “The one and only?” Luryae asked, she hid her surprise.

 “Yep. Him. Did I mention I’m meeting him tonight for dinner?” Zsilana smiled.

 “Is he cute? Will you-”

 “Is that your first concern? Yes, we might ‘you know’ do that ‘thing’ but I’ll be coming back baby Kee.”

 “How old is he anyway?”

 “Could be 60, he doesn’t hide his age and I know he is older than my dad. But less talk on that, you need to push the crew into prep mode. We shouldn’t linger too long. Too many prying eyes and we have a reputation for trouble.”

 “You don’t say,” Luryae shot a look of incredulity, she smiled, “I had three blasters pointed at my head this morning and that was before security arrived.”

 “Hey, they broke three of my ribs before even asking my name. That’s just rude.”

 “Broke three ribs? You don’t even look hurt.”

 “Ok, slight exaggeration. They kicked me while I was on the floor. It felt like I had my ribs broken, who’s counting?”

“Well you just did…” Luryae laughed. “And yes, our reputation is not that of law abiding citizens of the galaxy but I fear we are messing with people and powers beyond our control. What is it we are stealing for them?”  (edited to here)

 “I can’t say, not yet… the bottom line is that we will be infiltrating Terosan, but don’t worry about it. We’ll have the support we need. Look, I need to go, I wish I could tell you more but it isn’t that easy. Chin up and get our crew in order.” Zsilana placed her hand on Luryae’s cheek. “We can back out if it goes wrong. Come, let’s have another box of Jumu.” Zsilana smiled and finally Luryae smiled back.

 “Hey!” A voice shouted behind them, “you can’t do that.”

 “Do what?” Zsilana turned around to confront the stranger. A young male approached the two of them. Zsilana sighed. Cute but a poor opening gambit.

“I just saw you steal two boxes of cola.” The voice was wavering. Zsilana noted the lack of confidence.

“Relax, you didn’t see anything,” She replied.

 “My father will have your head for this, he owns that company.”

 “Your father? And who is he to be so great?” Zsilana said.

 “My father is Vohosecy Gihriwu, Chief Executive of the Kyopix Consortium.”

 “Hmmm, never heard of him,” Zsilana said flatly. Luryae barely repressed her laughter, she choked then let out a light cough that was clearly a laugh.

 “You better give them back. Right now.” The petulant voice was gnawing at Zsilana’s patience, she straightened her back and noticed the young male’s eyes drop to watch her chest raise. The tightly fitting dress was the hook. He was right where she wanted him.

 “Tell you what… I’ll pay for them.” Zsilana pulled out a real credit chip and placed it into his hand. She grabbed his wrist and then placed a kiss upon his lips. He stood still in frozen silence.

 “D-D-Do you have dinner plans?” the young man smiled, visibly nervous.

 “I do… but I’ll make you a better offer.” She winked. “Come to my ship and we can have supper. Luryae can sort dinner for you if you promise to wait for me when I get back.”

 Luryae grabbed him by the shoulders and lead him back to Zsilana’s ship. Her grip was far stronger than his. Had he even tried to resist? Zsilana smirked.

 “Dinner has to be cancelled.”

 “Hmmm?” Zsilana tried to hide her disappointment. She was barely inside his luxurious apartment which sat atop the pinnacle of Ardent Light. Expensive looking art adorned every wall.  The decorations were otherwise plain and minimalist but gave an air of solid craftsmanship. Zsilana half expected to see his portrait on one of the walls but couldn’t see it. Above the bed hung an abstract piece that she wasn’t able to decipher: it was a chaotic mess of colours that might have well have been a computer file dump and then framed. Her eyes wandered the room to the extent that her mind drifted from why she was here.

 “My sixth wife called to say that she has to visit her company’s operations on the station… or so she says but I accidentally left my diary out. Ergo, that’s how she tracked me down. Best if you left, this could get messy. She’s likes shouting, if nothing else,” he said.

 “Can’t be that bad can it? Let’s have a drink? Just one.” Zsilana smiled.

 “I can’t.” He tried to resist the temptation. Zsilana had turned her back and walked to the whisky decanter. She sniffed the aroma then poured two drinks. She looked deep into his eyes and walked over with both glasses half-full. Zsilana smiled then stumbled with a well practised fake trip. The whisky glass slipped from her hands and covered Vohosecy’s shirt.

 “Oh! I’m very sorry.” Zsilana produced a napkin from thin air and started to dab at the wet patch, “let me help you.”

Vohosecy muttered something that sounded like a curse, he pushed Zsilana’s hand back then unbuttoned his shirt. “This will need to go in the washing chute.” He pointed to a hatch on the wall.

 Zsilana stared at his lightly defined abs. Not bad shape for his age. “Do we have time?”

 “Time? Time for what?”

 Zsilana, “Y’know… before your wife comes.”

 “No. We don’t have time for that.” He stared at her, it genuinely looked like anger but she didn’t care. Another barrier to overcome and she liked a challenge, despite how short lived this one would be. Then, again, there was another waiting for her back on the ship. This could be the plot for maintaining control: neither knows about the other. Bargaining chips were always needed when business went sour.

 Zsilana stepped forward to take his shirt, she stepped too close and pressed her lips against his. Gently sliding her tongue into his mouth she grabbed for his belt as he feigned resistance. He pushed her back then undid the belt himself, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer.

 “Clothes. Off. Now!” Was all he managed to say.

 “Captain.” Luryae stumbled to her feet and saluted Zsilana as she entered the bridge. Zsilana had caught Luryae with her feet upon the captain’s computer panel.

 “Luryae!” Zsilana snapped but then relaxed with a smile, “no feet on my computer. Ready the ships for departure.”

 “Things didn’t go well?” Luryae Kee asked.

 “I need to go shower,” Zsilana beamed.

 “Oh! I see,” Luryae smirked, “well then Captain. It seems I better make this ship ready.”

 “We need to leave sharp. A transmission just came in as I was leaving. Our target ship is heading into the sector so we’ll have less time to prepare than usual but let’s make every second count.”

 “Yes, Captain,” Luryae replied to Zsilana, “You hear her.” She shouted to the rest of the crew on the bridge, “release the docking clamps and take us out from station. Let the other ships know our route.”

 Zsilana leaned close to Luryae, “where’s the young one?”

 “In your quarters.”

 “Good. I hope he has been treated well.” Luryae nodded in response.

 “Captain?” Luryae asked.

 “Yes?”

 “May we speak… in private?” Zsilana pointed to the forward lounge.

 The pair stepped inside and sat opposite each other at the oblong conference table. Luryae spoke, “Captain, what are we doing here? The crew is spooked, they-”

 “They can’t know just yet.”

 “But-”

 “Just tell them it’s a routine extraction.”

 “And the truth of it?” Luryae pressed for answers.

 “The Terosan government has purchased a powerful piece of equipment from the Hayf Imperium. The system is being tested nearby and this is our best chance to take it. Kyopix have people on the inside that will deactivate the shields upon our arrival. We will extract the device along with the Kyopix engineers. They will have everything prepped for us. We just need to show up and do our part. It’s a routine extraction.”

 “But, won’t it⎼”

 “It’s a routine extraction,” Zsilana repeated more forcefully.

 “Hayf? That doesn’t sound routine to me. I have a bad feeling about this, we’ve never been near Hayf space before and with good reason. The stories never end in a pleasant way.”

 “But they are just stories. Have you ever met anyone that has survived? Besides we won’t be in Hayf space, far from it.”

 “No one survives that’s why we haven’t met anyone,” Luryae complained.

 “And if no one survives then how do the stories get out?”

 “Well… you know what I mean. They don’t deal with any other species in the galaxy except to destroy them. No one has ever seen them and no one will go near them. That’s good enough for me to know this is crazy. What’s a bucket of bolts like this ship going to do against their destroyers?”

 “Look, the risks are high but we’ll make it through. Tell the crew to prepare for extraction and then stay focussed. We’ll make it, believe me on this one. We’ve got some of the best engineers out there to help us make this go smoothly. Let’s talk more later, I really need to shower.”

 “Yes, captain.”

The ship was loaded and ready to leave Ardent Light. Zsilana slouched in her chair, she watched on the viewscreens as her crew went about their tasks. Silently she beamed with pride, being Captain had its merits. You picked the destiny.

 She leant over with one hand casually stretched out towards the assistant’s chair. Zsilana lunged then clasped Feyu’s hand. The displays of affection were too casual, Luryae had said. It was simple jealousy. This wasn’t a military ship, and discipline had never been a problem anyway.

 “After this job we’ll visit the pleasure domes of Kriin,” Zsilana smiled, she kissed Feyu’s hand. He writhed uncomfortably, Feyu didn’t seem to enjoy the attention. The two chairs sat on a raised podium above the rest of the bridge crew. “Soon it will be time for you to see what makes us successful.”

 “Closing in on the position, captain,” Lieutenant Byrol shouted.

 “Shield up, weapons ready,” Ensign Teran added.

 “There aren’t many ships where half the of officers are female,” Zsilana spoke softy so only Feyu would hear. His eyes were scanning the room, he was watching, anticipating, judging. He must be trying to figure out how much danger we are entering into.

 “In 3… 2… 1… we’re there.” Byrol announced.

 “Visual,” Zsilana demanded, “I want their status.”

 “Their shields are up and are maneuvering into a defensive pattern.”

 “Ensign Sarsen, punch in code 359 then transmit on band M.”

 “Yes, Captain,” Sarsen acknowledged.

  “Captain, their engines are out,” Byrol shouted, “they just turned off for no reason.”

  “Personal transmission for the captain on band M,” Sarsen announced and punched in the commands to relay the message to Zsilana’s datapad.

 “Sarsen, patch a copy to Luryae.”

 “Teran, what’s their shield and weapon status?”

 “Completely nullified. At least for now, Captain, but I can’t say how long they will be down for, might be days but could be minutes. I can’t tell. Their systems are more complex than I’m used to. Yet somehow their defences came down without any effort. Do we have someone helping us on the inside?” Teran said.

 “Another incoming message Captain,” Sarsen said, “patching… “

 “Bring us about and review the on-screen annotations⎼we’ll spearhead the fleet by going here.” Zsilana proded her datapad. The oval viewscreen at the front bridge shone with pulsing lights where the captain outlined her strategy. “Supporting ships will skirt the edges; here, here and along here.” She scribbled more lines with her finger. “Teran, inform the boarding party of docking time, they need to be ready.”

 “Yes, captain.”

 “There are engineers to extract. Tell the boarding party that they will be at these coordinates: patching them now. Make sure they read my instructions fully for extracting the device, I’ve been given clear orders to safely remove the device without even a scratch.”

 Hush fell upon the bridge while the crew members carried out their tasks. Zsilana noted that Feyu’s eyes followed her every movement; whether she sat back or on the edge of her seat, his eyes followed. He didn’t speak and bore no expression.

 “…and docking in 3… 2… 1… engaged,” Teran’s voice broke the silence.

 “Get the boarding party on screen, let’s see their helmet feeds,” Zsilana said.

 “Doors opening. Feeds on,” Sarsen announced.

 “Boarding team, follow the engineers to the extraction point. Crew member 7 direct engineer Rayot to board our ship, he has a copy of the blueprints for the device.”

 “All going smoothly so far.” Feyu’s voice was crisp yet quiet.

 “So far, but we can’t become complacent.” Luryae stood behind Zsilana.

The boarding team had passed through the ship undetected. The internal sensors were still down although it was anyone’s guess when they would be functioning again. Fortunately, the Kyopix spies already on board the ship had helped to disable door locking mechanisms where needed. It also helped that all the other doors were locked shut and allowed the boarding party to progress unhindered.

 “They’re by the device, see cams 3 through 6,” Sarsen announced.

Zsilana edged forward on her seat “Team, make sure device is unhinged for removal. I’m counting on the engineers here, you guys told me you knew how to get this device out. Now prove it.”

 “Yes Captain, device is almost unhinged” came the reply, “but how do we get it out? This thing is huge. There ain’t no way this small team is carrying that thing out on our shoulders. No ma’am.”

 “Don’t worry about that crewman, you’re doing exactly what I asked, just make sure it is completely unhinged from the supports and ready to pop out when I say,” Zsilana replied. She turned and spoke into her ship’s intercom, she had another team to work from this ship, “Are the torches ready?”

 “Cutting torches ready, Captain.”

 “Start etching the hull, we’ll blow it through from this side,” Zsilana instructed then turned back to the open comm-channel to the other crew members, “Boarding team, stand back. This hull’s coming loose.”

 “Yes, Captain,” a crew member replied.

 “Any further resistance?”  Zsilana asked.

 “The Terosan crew are readying a combat team to take back the engineering section. So far they’ve had no luck but we better get moving.”

 “What’s the ETA?” Zsilana looked towards Ensign Teran.

 “Only a few minutes,” Teran said.

 The hardest part about being captain was the limited feedback you experienced while stuck in the Captain’s chair. You had to hope that everyone was doing their job to the best of their ability. It wasn’t always obvious to tell that when all you can see if a small section of flooring or wall from a crewmembers viewscreen. The device was unhinged from the supports, so the reports had said but it wasn’t obvious from the viewscreen feeds. It should however have at least a few more pieces that attached it to the rest of the rest, Zsilana guessed, it had to be tied to the ships engine’s somehow. That’s how it propelled, surely. The overview she read from the Kyopix spies made it sound simple, yet neither she nor them were engineers.

 “Make sure the device is ready to pop. We need to move fast,”  Zsilana barked to the away team. “Torches, report in, how is the etching?”

 “The etching process is almost done captain, but the hull was thicker than expected. We managed to use the pneumatic thumpers to punch through the inner hull, should be easy to lift the skin from this one captain.”

 Zsilana looked to Teran, “EM-shields and weapons still down?”

 “Still down,” Ensign Teran replied.

 Almost there. This is going to work, it’s actually going to work. Zsilana steadied herself in the chair, but excitement was building, her stomach churned, her legs stiffened and her brow became moist from perspiration. It was hard to watch. So close now. There’s a lot of credits waiting for us when we get back. A private yacht would be in order ⎼ something to cruise around in without the crew, a little something packed full of luxuries.

 “Cam 4, I need a visual to your left. Possible breach in adjoining corridor,” Sarsen interrupted.

 “Looking. Nothing,” came the reply, “I’ll scout the area and report back.”

   “Captain,” Teran shouted, “the engineers reported that the hull is ready to be pushed through. Suction team has secured the perimeter and are ready for the extraction.”

 “Then let’s make the lift,” Zsilana said, “engineers, move back from the extraction point. Crewman 2, lead them back to the ship.”

 Across an open com channel the entire bridge heard the dirty sound of a discharging bolt rifle. An archaic projectile weapon that made the bloodiest mess. Another shot thundered, it filled the bridge with electronic feedback and reverb. Cam 5 lay smashed and bloodied; dirt, blood smeared the partially working visual feed.

 “Breach! We need back up in engineering. Now!” Member 2 shouted across their com.

 “Member 5 is down,” Sarsen announced.

 “Hold tight, I’m on my way,” Luryae called out. Zsilana stood up. That was nothing she could say but watch and let Kee exit the bridge. She gulped a loud intake of air that made the bridge crew momentarily turn to watch her. For that moment when the air was held it seemed like hours. When the out-breath came the bridge crew returned to work. She couldn’t stop Luryae going, personal feelings only served to make the decision cloudy. The away team needed more leadership. It was the natural choice. ‘Be safe’, her words came out as a whisper.

 Further shots reverberated over the bridge’s com system.

 “Back up needed. I repeat, back up needed,” Crew member 3 pleaded.

 “It’s coming. Sit tight!” Zsilana shouted. “Has the lifting started? I wanted that device out of there. Now!”

 “The hull is breached and but the engineers can’t strap harnesses to the device until the fighting has stopped.”

 “Captain, we have incoming,” Sarsen said.

 “Well? Send more troops then.”

 “No, not in there. Out here. Two frigate sized ships appeared from nowhere. Visual in 3. Scanners show they are on top of the our fleet.”

 “Send out periphery ships. Fleet lead has to stick tight to target vessel.” Zsilana.

 “Ships dispatched.” Teran said.

 “Visual on,” Sarsen said, “those… they aren’t Terosan Captain. That’s Hayf frigates, it has to be.”

 “They’re only frigates,” Zsilana said.

 “Hayf frigates, Captain,” Sarsen said.

 “Look, just make sure those Hayf whatevers don’t get close to our position.”

 “Captain, this is suicide. We won’t survive Hayf frigrates. We should abort,” Sarsen said.

 “Never. No device, no payment,” Zsilanan retaliated, “We need to crush those vessels. How hard can it be?”

 “One of our ships is already damaged; retreating. A second ship now disabled. Captain, this is getting out of hand fast. We need a full reteat.”

 “Not yet, we’re too close.” Zsilana

 “Another ship disabled. And another. Our fleet is going down, Captain.” Sarsen said.

 “Terosan is immobilized, we can hold out long enough.” Teran added support to the Captain.

 “Focus!” Zsilana shouted, “Hayf must have a weakness, there must be a way.”

 “Luryae is now on board, patching her through” Sarsen announced.

 “It’s a stalemate down here, Captain.” Luryae said.

 “Figure it out and be quick, we have company out here. Hayf frigates” Zsilana replied.

 “Hayf? Captain-” Luryae spoke up but was cut short.

 “Do your job Luryae, let me worry about the Hayf.”

 “Another ship gone,” Sarsen said, “frigates closing in to our position.”

 “Bring ships to cover,” Zsilana.

 “Our boarding team has been repelled,” Teran said.

 “Can we still get the device?” Zsilana’s voice quivered.

 “Soon,” Teran replied

 “Captain, bad news,” Sarsen said, “a Hayf cruiser just appeared. No warning and no visual yet.”

 “Luryae? Get out. They’ve brought the heavies.” Zsilana called out over the com.

 Sarsen read out further casualties,“Another ship gone, they’re taking us down too fast, but the frigates have been deflected from our position. This is our gap to leave. That cru-”

 “Forget the device, let’s go. Now! Lieutenant Byrol, ready the engines.”

  A low rumbling engulfed the ship’s hull, the floor vibrated which caused the screens to flicker in and out of life.

 “Pull us free, we need to leave,” Zsilana shouted.

 “We need time to release the clamps and close the airlocks.” Taren replied.

 “We don’t have time.”

 “Cruiser circling to our position,” Sarsen warned.

 “Go! Go! Go!” Zsilana paced back and forth in front of Feyu, she cracked her knuckles and slapped the sweat from her brow.

 “Luryae? Are you on board? Respond, please,” Teran spoke over the com.

 A dim sound came back on the com chanel, “here, lieutenant.”

 Zsilana’s lead ship pulled free from the Terosan vessel, as it undocked the boarding jetty sliced a gash along the hull. Shrapnel and dirt fanned out from the Terosani hull. Bodies, tools burst, pipes all came free into the darkness of space.

 A narrow escape from death itself, this was a story all too familiar for Zsilana. Somehow this was different. She’d never come face to face with any Hayf ship. There was never any need to venture near their territory, and this time was no different. How did they get here so quickly? They’re Hayf her conscience told her. They can do anything.

 She had stared down the barrel of a gun more times than she could count. Sometimes she held the trigger, other times she was on the floor with the barrel in her mouth. Yet none of those times ever lead to death. Zsilana still lived despite the dangers of her style. She was afraid when death knocked, she never learnt to overcome the fear but perhaps that’s what kept her alive. Fear can be suppressed but never killed.

 Despite all of that, all the past experiences, this time felt different. Her fleet had never been so methodically disabled or destroyed by anyone. Not the Terosan, not Kyopix, not her rivals, and the petty kings of factions faceless and unknown that inhabited the non-Terosani freeworlds. Zsilana had tried to explain this to Vohosecy, but he didn’t seem to care. He seemed heartless.

 “I have the plans.” Zsilana smiled, she played coyly with her hair.

 “The device? You don’t have it? I can’t pay you without it, I asked for the device,” Vohosecy replied in a cool tone.

 Zsilana looked at him sternly, “you didn’t say there would be any Hayf presence there.”

 “I couldn’t know”

 “You should have, you knew there was a fair chance I’d be slaughtered which is why you gave me this mission. You knew the capabilities of the Hayf ships but needed someone else to test that theory.”

 “No device, no payment.”

 “Your intelligence agents should have known, you sent us out there to be killed.”

 “I want the device, not your head. Why would I let you go? You could have ran and never come back, I took that risk and I still need the device.”

 “The plans will be sufficient, if you don’t buy them then someone else will. I’ll find a market for them somewhere.”

 “You’ll get a tenth of what they’re worth.”

 “I thought you only wanted the device.”

 “I want the device, yes. Besides, there is no way to prove that you haven’t already copied and sold the plans.”

 “Well, that’s a chance you’ll just have to take. I’m right here, right now. Convenient point of sale my friend.” Zsilana smiled.

 “A known thief with plans of a secret device, sounds like like grounds for making you an outlaw, and all outlaws have bounties on their head. Will you be accepted both dead or alive? We may have to see, and perhaps I should claim the reward myself.” Vohosecy smiled and eyed Zsilana, but she didn’t flinch at the threat. “Guards!” Vohosecy called out, he rubbed his hands together, “give me the datachip.”

 “I have it,” Zsilana flashed the chip, “but you don’t think I came without some assurance? Do you know where your son, Feyu, is?”

 “He was dealing with some local corporations, I left him to deal with them,” Vohosecy paused, “but, now that you say… have you… I see, you’ve met my son, haven’t you? What did you do with him?”

 “Nothing yet, he’s a sweet boy. Kind hearted, warm.”

 “He let himself get captured? He means nothing to me.”

 “I didn’t say I captured him, I just asked if you knew where he was. Feyu is safe, along with the plans for the device. This datachip on the other hand contains nothing useful, it is simply a recording of Feyu asleep on my ship.” Zsilana smiled then threw the chip on to his desk, “If you harm me then you won’t find either the plans or your son.”

 “What makes you think you can get out of her alive?” He baited.

 “If you are thinking of forcing me to go against my will then be assured that I have people on the station waiting for me. If I die they will know and my ship will leave with the plans and your son aboard. I don’t want to die but I think you’d rather have your son back, or you want the plans at the very least.” Zsilana held her head high.

 Vohosecy said nothing. He stared out a viewport into space, he reclined with a glass of whisky.

 “If you won’t buy then I shall be leaving,” Zsilana spoke clearly.

 “Go!” Vohosecy shouted.

 Zsilana straightened her tunic then turned to leave the room. She grabbed for the panel by the door. A low toned whoosh noise preceded the opening of the apartment door. She left.

 “Ok, I yield. I yield. Come back,” Vohosecy called after her.

 Zsilana stood in the doorway. She was silent but smiled.

 “Give me the plans, and my son, and you can have a third of your payment.”

 “Half,” Zsilana complained.

 “You’ve copied the plans already. I can tell. You’re not stupid, so don’t treat me as an idiot either. Your losses are your losses, and you can no longer guarantee exclusivity of the plans,” Vohosecy said.

 Zsilana nodded but hid her smile. A third would be more than enough to replace what she had lost. The Hayf had only disabled the ships, not destroyed them. The Terosans boarded and captured the crew but they ought to still be alive. There was hope.

I wrote this story on paper about a year ago but never typed it up. As part of a drive to get my work published / read I’ve decided to share my work with more people. It is pointless to write stories that are never read. I do try to edit as a type but I’m sure there are a few rough edges to clean up but certainly not the worst thing you’ll read this year.

Enjoy and comment below.

Fallen Gods of Cheam

Ice, it’s everywhere. Ice, it’s even in the places you can’t see. Snow covers the ice and makes up almost everything that isn’t ice. Vistas of ice, rocks and mountains, between plateaus of snow. Cheamian landscapes never differ. The further south you go the more it snows. Cool winds whip across the lands, through the valleys of white, up and over the rocks of grey. Darkened greens huddle together where the ice stops and before the rocky peaks begin; the wooded areas are few yet evergreen – brown legs coated in white powder.

 The village of Fjatlos sat high on the sheltered face of a rocky mountain overlooking Five Glacier Valley. A string of mountains met around a valley of glaciers, the sea of ice-packed structures flowed down the from the rocky saddles and gathered in the basin as a culmination known as the Fjatlos Basin. The village dwellings were high above the basin carved into the peaty hillside, the wooden frames buried deep into the ground. Steep walls stood taller than man, from which snow wound slide and fall without hindrance. Each building stood apart to let the snows flow freely by, the snow could be the downfall of any dweller yet snow provided the necessary insulation for life.

 Tallest of all buildings was the temple, rising up taller than the village hall, yet not as tall as the melt-water collector. The collectors were life-giving tall wooden structures that channelled fresh snow from the ridge that collected the water in metal buckets. Even in conditions as rough as Cheam it was easy for people to forget what kept them alive. Danger focussed the mind but everyone needs rest, everyone forgets about the natural mechanisms of life.

 Life was only possible in Fjatlos due to the natural heat from the mountain fissures that provided the warmth needed to change the ice into water. The Fire Caves hide a source of pure hot water that drips and collects in the depths of the caverns. A labyrinth of tunnels hides the pools of water beneath the hills.

 “Istelle, Istelle! Get back in here. You’ll freeze to death,” the voice of Sedron’s wife carried in the wind. Sedron turned his head to watch his wife and ran after their daughter Istelle.

 “I’m fine mother, look I can run,” Istelle called back. Sedron was glad to see his daughter was up and running around again. Fever had wracked her body and took her to the edge of death. ‘Please not again’, they pleaded with death not to take another child, they had lost enough offspring. It didn’t feel like such a long time since they lost an older daughter to fever.

 “Istelle!” her mother called.

 “Mama, there’s no wind, mama. I can run and run.”

 “Get your furs on, now. Don’t let your father see you like this.”

 A hand grabbed Istelle from behind and dropped a thick fur garb over her head. “Careful young wolf, even the bravest hunter wear their furs,” Sedron spoke clearly to his daughter.

 “Ugh! Dad,” Istelle resisted, “it isn’t even cold.” She tried to slip away from his hug.

 “It is cold, young woman, and you will wear your furs.” Istelle freed herself and ran away along the frozen muddy pathways of the village. The white-grey wolf cloak trailed behind her. It hung half over one shoulder but didn’t quite fit. This cloak belonged to her brother who was lost on a village hunt.

 “Get away from the edge,” Istelle’s mother called, “tell her Sedron!”

 “She sees it, she won’t run over the edge.” he shouted back.

 “Sedron! I’m not losing another child this year.”

 Sedron grumbled, he wouldn’t let the past haunt the future. If he always dwelt on the kids already lost then he could not celebrate the three kids that remained. Four gone, but three still survive. The world was harsh and unforgiving, he was reminded of this every morning. Why did life exist on such a frigid world? Sedron tried not to ask himself, the thoughts of his own mortality and limited existence drove him to dark places. The mind was sharp when cold, but clarity was lost when the mind was left to dwell.

 Istelle ran to the edge of Skull Cliff, her mother shouted again, but Sedron hadn’t moved. ‘Why is called Skull Cliff?’ Istelle had asked her father when she was younger. So young, so naive. How to explain the bones in the valley? Not to a child, you can’t explain the bones to a child. The bones are from unwanted children, bastards, and cripples. When the babies’ cries stop, the parents start. Villages elders are at least given a choice: the dignity of a swift execution or the option of leaving to wilderness with a sharp blade. Life is tough and food is scarce. The gods have forsaken this world. Ice. Snow. Ice. Snow. Ice and then more damned snow. Oh, why can’t it be warm?

 Istelle’s laughter and screams of joy filled the air as she ran with friends around the village. The other parents watched with just as much concern. Life was dangerous and everyone has lost a sibling, parent, or child in recent memory.

 “See, she’s fine,” Sedron said as he sat down to sharpen his iron spear. He shrugged his large round shoulders and took a piece of flint from his pocket. Everything was fine, he told himself.

 “Troubles at home?” A voice called from behind. Sedron didn’t rise to the bait. His brother laughed then came to sit beside him. Alfron was taller and more muscular, yet had a poorer aim and wasn’t as nimble on his feet. Just behind Alfron were two more men, each followed by a leashed wolf, and behind them were Alfron’s two teenage sons Fomel and Kebber. “Almost time for hunting, are you ready?” Sedron heard the footsteps of the other men but hadn’t bother to turn and greet them. One of the wolves had come to Sedron’s familiar smell, it licked his face then sat by his feet. “Deaf or just ignorant, Sedron?”

 Sedron smirked. “The spear won’t sharpen itself.”

The seven hunters dressed alike in white-grey skins that matched the wolves they walked with. Collective barks came from the wolves who had turned their attention to a snowfox running by, they yanked themselves against their leashes in a vain attempt to pursue. The hunters pulled the leashes tight leading to a collective yelp from the wolves.

 “Easy now,” Alfron clapped his pet.

 The tip of the spear was sharp enough to cut with the slightest touch. Sedron rose and eyeballed his fellow huntsmen. He said nothing. Everyone knew each other, this hunt would be routine. No mistakes. No unnecessary deaths. No children to bury, not  this time. “Pray for my return, we shall feast when I return. The lands shall be rife with meat now that the winds have gone.” Sedron addressed his wife.

 “Sedron,” Welyn called out to him but suddenly couldn’t find the tell him how much he meant to her. He had to survive, she didn’t know how she could last if there was another death in the family. Worst of all if Sedron died her pillar in life was gone. She tried to smile but her eyes fell to the ground, her mind wandered into a dream of days long gone. “Sedron, I shall pray for your return. Please be careful. No heroics…” she looked to the rest of the huntsmen, “from any of you.”

 “Sedron!” Elsar shouted. “No time for kissing, let’s get hunting.”

 Snow crunched under the feet of the hunting party as they started their marched away from Sedron’s house. The wolves rushed along side; darting out and back with eagerness.

 Cotyr looked back to see if Sedron had moved, “By gods man… you are in no hurry.” The wind howled yet the sun still shone. Sedron kissed his wife goodbye, he uttered something to her that no one else could hear.

 “We shall return with a feast for the whole village,” Sedron announced to all. By now, the rest of the village had come out to wave farewell to their hopeful hunters. May the hunt be prosperous they shouted after the men.

 “Or to an irate wife if you fail,” Alfron laughed.

 “Careful brother or she will have your wolf for our next stew.” Sedron finally left by kissing Istelle goodbye. His other children remained inside. He mumbled a prayer to the gods that should this party fail then they must look after his wife and children, even his eldest and moodiest child. Cerrun wouldn’t listen to his father, he had no drive to do anything with life. How does a parent encourage a child to live when the child will not listen to reason? Every suggestion is wrong, every bit of help ignored. ‘Be safe’ Sedron whispered to the wind.

 “Gods of wind, of fire, of land and water, of trees and of men, hear my prayer. Give me strength to hunt and see that my spear will  fly straight and true, give me courage in the face of fear and deliver me from danger. I ask this prayer to be heard O’ Gods above, watch over us this day.” Alfron said aloud.

 Ilkand, their father, never left the village without prayer and he had raised his own sons to be both respectful to the gods and dutiful to the village. No chief was fairer or greater in skill. Sedron long wished to emerge from his father’s shadow, but even in the old man’s death, few can see the potential that shines from Sedron. ‘Ilkand the great, Ilkand the wise, the generous, the fair, the master.’ Sedron had grown tired of his father’s legacy such that he had come to revel in the folklore of Magnar, a man that some say was even greater than Ilkand. It was he that wrestled wolves and brought home the first tamed wolf to the village. Magnar lost an eye but continued to hunt. Magnar lost a hand but continued to rule. Many say that Sedron, and Ilkand, were descended from Magnar he legendary chief of Fjatlos.

 What made Ilkand so loved was not just his successful hunting strategies but his patience and fair handedness in resolving disputes. It was not uncommon for rival villages to come to him and ask for adjudication of their disputes. A man who loved to walk and climb alone, as much as he loved to hunt with the other men from the village. A quiet man who was fierce in battle yet bore no grudges and was slow to temper. He was Ilkand the loved.

 Sedron had planned out the route the party would take, as master of the hunt he set the pace and chose to lead them north across the ridge and away from Five Glacier Valley. Over to the backside of the mountain and then northwards past the evergreen forests. The hilly region beyond the flatlands to the north should prove fertile this time of year, away from all the villages of man.

The untouched setting, beyond the flatlands, allowed animals to roam wild and free. Kills should be plentiful, but it was not without danger. His father always instructed his parties to cross the snowy expanse as fast as possible, only the biggest and toughest creatures would roam there but their maw could cut a man in two with ease. Sharp claws that could penetrate the skull, front to back, in a single swipe. Such creatures that stood tall as a temple and could run as fast as any wolf, but their meat was poisonous and foul his father had warned. Sedron never figured out how his father could know that.

 As child Sedron heard stories from his grandfather of the equatorial flats far in the south. Vast icy deserts with untouched snow that was so soft and thick that no one dared cross them. No shelter or food, so it would be impossible to cross even if anyone dared. ‘Was there no rocks there grandfather?’ Sedron had asked. He never did get an answer to that. ‘Couldn’t it be crossed in a sledge?’ Sedron had asked another time, ‘no, too far.’

Before the hunters would cross the flats Sedron checked that all members still followed. Elsar, Cotyr, Alfron and his sons Fomel and Kebber. Sedron counted seven; two more than he would have liked. The boys would be more of hindrance than a help. ‘It’s not an easy hunt, boys, perhaps it would be best to go back.’ Sedron had warned them but Alfron pleaded to let them come. They had to learn how to hunt one day.

 Fomel wheezed with each gust of wind which further entrenched Sedron’s resentment as he heard his nephew struggle to match his pace. “Slow down Sedron,” Alfron had barked, at least twice now, but Sedron would not listen. Alfron had also complained of aching feet and muscle cramps, but Sedron ignored it. He was determined to hunt, and bringing home any sack of meat smaller than he was would be a failure. ‘The sleds must be piled high,’ he warned. No turning back until we have filled our sacks.

 “My feet are aching. I must rest, Sedron,” Alfron shouted above the howls of the wind. One of his skis had become lodged into a mound of snow and threw his body to the floor. Even the wolves were tiring and the sky was now darkening. It was time to rest. Sedron accepted and came to sit besides Alfron.

 “Are you injured?” he asked Alfron.

 “I’m fine, just a little bruised but it’s nothing,” Alfron said.

 “We should try making the crossing before nightfall.”

 “We won’t make it. It’s too far.”

 “I’’m hungry,” Cotyr interrupted.

 “It isn’t too far,” Sedron replied to Alfron, “we’ll make it. I’ve done this before.”

 “I’ve done it before too and you know it’s too far. C’mon, we did this three ago too,” Alfron said.

 “Can we eat already?” Cotyr shouted. He stood above the two brothers still waiting for resolution.

 “Hey! Did you just see that?” Elsar shouted. He was the last to join the commotion. Alfron’s sons had joined him on the snow but kept quiet while the adults bickered.

 “Let’s make camp here,  it would be better just to rest.” Alfron said.

 “Here? You moron, we can’t just stop here. Where is here? Here is nowhere. There’s no shelter, no wood, no anything,” Sedron rebutted.

 “We should move on then,” Cotyr agreed and pointed towards the far end of the flatlands.

 “There!” Elsar shouted, “there it was again. Did you see that?”

 “What are you talking about?” Sedron turned to see what Elsar was looking at. “I don’t see anything. Now let’s just get our stuff and get to the other side.”

 “I saw it… it was like a star falling from the sky,” said Cotyr.

 “Cotyr, you’re hungry. You don’t know what which way is up when you’re hungry,” Sedron shouted back.

 “No, look, there. It happened again. Whatever it was, it fell again.” Elsar said.

 “It was a falling star. I’ve seen it twice now.” Cotyr added.

 “Gods have mercy,” Alfron said.

 “I can assure you that the sky is not falling down.” Sedron said, he looked around for the mysterious falling stars. “It was a meteor. Nothing more. Now let’s get going before night falls.”

 “We should see where they land. Maybe they bring gold?” Elsar asked.

 Cotyr laughed. “Gods don’t have a use for gold.”

 “There!” Elsar shouted. He pointed at the series of falling red stars falling. Everyone was watching Sedron who now stood at the edge of disbelief; his mouth agape. They had all seen the falling stars now.

 “This is a bad omen, brother,” Alfron said.

The wolves seemed the most apprehensive, they whined and wagged their tails profusely. Another three stars fell, red pinpoints of light, bursting into life in an instant then disappearing just as quickly. All occurrences happened in the same region of sky. It had to be a meteor shower, Sedron told himself.

 The stars no longer fell but the sky had darkened, the clouds were thicker, miasmic and grey. Sedron lead the team forward. ‘I must not show fear, they will not follow if I cannot lead. There is no need to fear, for death is not the end.’ He uttered breathlessly to himself. Keep marching and we shall make it by nightfall.

  “Look! More lights,” Cotyr shouted.

  “They’re blue,” Elsar added, “and green.”

 “They…” Alfron spoke up, “they’re just hanging.”

 And then nothing.

 The lights disappeared. Sedron and the hunting group were soon reminded how dark Cheam became in the middle of the flatlands. No campfires, no sun, no falling stars, almost no light at all.

 Suddenly, a cloud of ice and snow exploded in the distance. A mist rose from the land and dominated their view of the hills. The situation had new meaning. Something, whatever it was, had hit the flatlands.

 The cloud continued to puff outwards and finally washed over the weary travellers. Sedron pulled his cloak in tighter when the wind blew. His wolf barked in the air. Something was threatening it. What did it sense?

 A further row of stars descended. As it did a further cloud of snow blew across the land. These gods fell and then stopped. Their lights had not extinguished, yet they no longer fell. A gust of wind brushed along the flatlands, the miasma of ice and snow cleared if only for a moment. Clarity was offered for a moment. All the lights had come to a rest.

 The new constellations slept with cosy silence upon the powdered snow. Red, blue, and green; the fallen stars did not twinkle. What were they? Sedron asked himself. No tale or legend spoke of sleeping gods who came to lie in silence.

 “The fury of Karthuz rages before us, he protects his kin who wish to sleep,” Alfron shouted to be hard upon the wind. Respite from the weather of Cheam had been only fleeting. “Behold Kathuz and his offspring.”

 “Aye, behold Karthuz,” Cotyr added.

 Sedron kept quiet. He offered no conclusion for he could not understand how the others knew this was Karthuz. They had to be gods, but why not Armenuz or Galon? Why Karthuz? It did not matter for now the men were at ease. Bad weather was forgotten, the gods have arrived. Will they listen to our prayers, provide us with food, and reveal their godly serenity to us? What fortune it would be for Sedon, son of Ilkand, the village chief, to bring gods back to the village. With such power would come great wealth. Our rivals will despair.

 Sedron lead them forward, they would venture forth and meet their makers.

 “What sort of creatures are they? Sedron asked. He lead the team ever closer. The silence was long broken. The gods did not sleep silently but emitted a deeply resonant hum. The creatures, gods if they were, looked strange. What should a supreme being look like? Not like this. These were not gods. Surely not.

 Confidence dwindled, even in Alfron who was the first to declare that these lights were the gods. It was Karthuz he said, he insisted. No fewer than ten creatures now stood as straight-legged silhouettes against the mountains. The jaws of the unexpected beasts fell upon the snow to reveal an eery glow from inside their throats. As the team closed in Sedron could see that the creatures had large box-like bodies that were stuck atop four stiff legs. Were these the horses of the gods? Fashioned with lanterns that burn so bright that all can see them from far across the heavens.

 Strange animals they must be if their natural resting position is to stand up straight with mouth ajar. Sedron soon noticed differences among them, some were slightly taller and longer, while others were fatter with shorter legs. Each of them were easily as tall as the village temple, if not taller.

 “Karthuz!” Alfron shouted.

 “Quiet, you idiot,” Sedron yanked on his brother’s cloak. How did these foul beasts fall like stars? As the group drew nearer Sedron stepped more quietly. The creatures’ skin shimmered like polished metal: clean, smooth and unyielding. The wind did not ruffle any hair or feathers.

 “Look at their eyes,” Cotyr said. He stood just behind Sedron and pointed to the nearest of the fallen stars. “Why do they only have one eye? It shines so brightly… like a star, yet it is long and thin.”

 They edged closer still. The resonant hum of the beasts had quietened. The coloured lanterns on the legs of the beasts dimmed while the lights from the jaws grew brighter. A gasp of air escaped and perspective changed forever. Familiar shapes emerged from the mouths of the animals thought to be gods.

 Bipeds.

NB:

The ending isn’t quite finished, I’d like to add a little bit more without destroying the impact.

I was aiming for something dark but not horror or gore. Enjoy!

Forsaken Daughter

Cool air tickled her throat, the salty breeze licked through the shutters and penetrated the damp bedding. She coughed with each gust; a chesty roar followed by a spittle blood when her mouth was full. The sun blazed into her dank room every time the wind pushed its way in, her head thumped and throbbed. Her face was burning yet her legs shivered. A chesty cough forced its way out.

The shutters clanged and clashed against the wooden wall, each time they opened the heat of day burst in and cleansed the putrid air. Each time the shutters closed a shadow drew across the room; the dirt and dust danced their turbulent waltz across the floor and up the bed.

It had been… a day… or was it days since someone last visited? It must have been the smell, she thought. They won’t be able to stand the smell of blood and puss, the smell was even displeasing to her. The smell wasn’t the worst, they were nothing compared to the aches. Why did she have to suffer?

Her stomach growled and she coughed again. ‘I must not cough,’ she told herself, ‘blood coughs only come to bad girls, and I mustn’t cough bad unless I want to be known as a bad girl. I’m a good girl, so why must I suffer?’

Footsteps crept along the hallway. The floors creaked as the person came closer. Was it the doctor? His tonics also tasted so foul but anything was better than lying in bed. The door rattled and opened. Her father entered the room alone, he held his kerchief across his mouth and clutched a vial of brown liquid in his other hand.

He dropped his kerchief and reached down to grab her chin, he forced the vial to her mouth and splashed the liquid out. It raced down her throat and spluttered over her chin. “Good girls don’t cough blood,” he told her, “we’ll fix you up or you’ll be taken to the underland. You don’t want that do you?”

She shook her head as best she could. Her muscles ached so much that she wasn’t sure if she actually moved her head or just thought about it. The liquid made her choke, she coughed and coughed until her throat was clear. When she stopped she saw that her father had left. Her eyes closed as the footsteps faded into the distance. “You’ll be taken to the underland,” she heard his voice in her head.

The floor felt like a shifting deck in a storm; up then down, around and up, down, up, up, down. One hand pushed against the wall while the other lunged for the side of the bed. The hessian drapes battered against the wall like torn sails whipping against their mast. The room darkened, her vision blurred, her heart raced, she tensed her muscles trying to resist the nauseous sensation that grew inside her.

The coughs begat the wind in the sails; the sneezes gave life to the hail; her perspiration became the rain. The room flew high, her stomach lurched with the airless feeling one gets when they jump from a perch. As quick as the flight began the bed came crashing down: a rock against hard stone floor. No give, just hard impact. A loud sonorous roar preceded the cracking of the wooden bed posts.

Her eyes opened to total darkness. The sensation of spinning hadn’t left her. She tried to figure out where the bed had landed. A cleaner taste of air surrounded her, an unfamiliar crisp and saltless flavour that suggested she was no longer by the sea. The stone floor underneath was cold to step on but slowly she pulled herself up. Her legs were giddy and barely held her but the desire to cough was gone.

Coal could not be as dark as this place. No, coal had a glimmer to it. Sometimes you could see it shine when the light hit it just right, but that wasn’t true here. There was no light or sound. The wind had gone and with it the smells and tastes of life. Wherever this was, it was a new sense of nothingness.

A creaking sound ignited in the distance but it echoed several times. This had to be a room of some kind, or perhaps a cave. First a sliver then a large crack revealed a gush of light from above. It was a familiar brightness, it had the same white hue as moonlight. After a brief moment of blindness her eyes settled upon a stone orb no more than ten paces away. Upon the rough granite-looking surface she saw the outline of blue letters appearing, and she knew it once they were the runic symbols of the ancients.

“Sarla,” a male voice boomed from the stone, “forsaken daughter, why have you come here?” The runes shone brighter everytime the voice spoke.

Sarla couldn’t find her voice. At first she wondered how he, or it, knew her name. Did all such beings know her name? Did they know everyone’s name? “I..” she stammered at first then found her courage, “I don’t know.”

“You journey into my lair yet you do not know why? Did you not chose to come here, oh coughing daughter of Maxwell?”

“I… well, I was… in bed, and I was coughing and father shouted at me to stop coughing but I couldn’t,” Sarla sniffed and restrained her tears.

“You coughed up your blood when you were told not to, and now you find yourself here, am I to believe it was an accident?” the voice shouted, “you waste my time with your petty snivels.”

“But… but.. I did not chose-”

“Silence!” the cave shook so hard that it threw Sarla to the floor. The spherical stone dimmed and turned quietly on its axis. “You may leave now.”

“Leave? But how do I leave? Am I not dead? Father said that when I die I will be taken to the underworld to meet the ancients. He said that if I did not stop coughing then I was sure to die. I tried, you must believe, but I just couldn’t stop. He left me there on the bed. How can I go back?” Sarla could not hide her confusion, she had only just got here. It was here that she was supposed to accept her fate. That is what father had told her must happen.

“By accepting a forfeit in your place. To live you must sacrifice another and when you wake up it will be so,” the voice was calm and the glow of the stone dimmed to total darkness. Sarla was once again standing in the dark.

“Who will be sacrificed? And how can I just wake up if I am dead?” Sarla’s voice echoed in the cave, “Answer me! You must answer me. Who shall take me place? Who?”

The crunching sound of a collapsing mast behind Sarla made her jump. A blast of warm air rushed against her face, it had picked up a wash of dirt from the floor and forced her to close her eyes. When she opened them again she was back in her room. The shutters were open. Sarla looked out onto the blue-green ocean in front or her house. The coughing was gone. The pains were no more and she was standing straight back in her own room. She felt cured. It was a miracle. She was cured.

“Father, I’m cured, I’m cured. the coughing has gone. I’m cured!” She yelled with glee, “Father?”