Battleship Endeavor, Infirmary Wing

Cruiser Supply Dock 74DIQ, Creos

3:07 PM Terra Firma Pacific Time

My pace was faster than normal due to the amount of check offs in every sector of the ship for battle-ready state, but I was in a real hurry when I heard news from Sergeant Russ Decathan in the infirmary. In reality, the news was overall annoying. They found Senior Engineer Lieutenant Wringheart, but where she was found was embarrassing. Soldiers and wizards noticed the extra creases on my forehead. Arriving at the near-empty infirmary, the hiss of the hatch startled the nearby Beden medic while he was recalibrating the healing runes and computers of one of the gurneys.

Ensign Xil ‘Qual, nicknamed Comet, is an all true magical being just by looking at her. Beden bodies are composed of rune-covered rocks hovering over a bioluminescent mass-less body of cosmic energy; hers is a light red. Two dominant levitating rocks worked as arms with four spikes as fingers and two glowing oval eyes embedded in a slanted back cone head. Down below were rows of rocks shaped as a skirt allowing the body to float. She yelped in a shrill, rickety voice from two vibrating rocks considered her “neck.”

“Where is she?” I asked tapping my boot.

On cue I heard an awful sound of someone throwing up a wet lung in the distance, then coughing vigorously. Comet pointed at the curtain-covered gurney with two shadows behind it. Vital signs already chirping. “Follow the sound of the sick cat, Captain,” Comet said simply. I nodded and went, telling her to carry on. I cracked my neck, getting ready to yell and use my powers if necessary.

I saw Decathan’s shadow inside followed by his voice, “By gads, what did you eat?” He asked.

“Something blue and impossible to pronounce. Oh my stomach…” a second voice said, coming from the bulky shadow lying on the gurney. I recognized the individual as Wringheart.

Sometimes it’s hard to be shorter than everybody else on the ship, things like taking time to pull curtains are cumbersome. I tapped into my telekinesis to pull away the curtain and felt a slight headache as I rarely use it. Decathan looked up and stood at attention, saluting with one clawed hand, “Captain on the deck!”

“At ease,” I said and glared at the sick body in bed. “Lieutenant Manis Wringheart, I hope you have a good explanation for your absence, your drunk-in-public routine, and your insidious drinking binge because this is uncalled for!”

Among the species the battle group has, Wringheart’s species is almost the rarest to recruit when concerning what they provide. She’s a Vyroka and they’re not hard to spot in a public place as they are called a lot of times “taurs.” They are humanoids with an animal upper body with a quadruped animal-like lower body. Of their twenty-nine colonies, each one has their own species and different fur patterns and colors, then accounting the different genial features they inherit. Wringheart is a canine-type Vyroka with dominant brown and red fur along with dark blue stripes running along her back and legs, wide blue rings down her tail, and under her muzzle. I was looking at her back; her uniform was filthy and wrinkled all over. I smelled something familiar like sulfur and mold, but I digressed.

Groaning she rolled to face me. Her canine-like head was sharp and curvy for a female, but everything else looked disgusting. Her short blue hair was unkempt and wild, lips and teeth coated in vomit, and her red eyes showed thick capillaries. Her tongue hung out, coated with something green and foamy.

“Honestly, Wringheart, this is ridiculous,” I stressed. “This makes it the twenty-fifth time?” Decathan corrected me with twenty-nine.

She inhaled, and more so like she was crying for a while. “Sorry, captain,” she coughed. “It’s just… oh man my head. I’m having a rough time coping.”

“Coping? We have no time to cope. We’ve been looking all over for you, and not surprisingly, found you torso deep in a dumpster behind a bar. I’d rather have you thrown out of this fleet for your attitude.”

“Captain, I can explain.” She covered her muzzle to hold back another vomit moment.

“I’ll tell him,” Decathan volunteered. He asked if he could, and I allowed it concerning that Wringheart might blow whatever at me. After giving her a potion to cure her ailments, he cleared his throat and said, “You know Private Wizard Zaco and his little brother Cit? The ones that just died last mission?” How could I not? I just filed their deaths. “Turns out that those two and Wringheart are best friends and drinking buddies. It hit her hard, sir. Others at the bar complained and kicked her out.”

“Ah, frick,” I cursed.

Wringheart closed her eyes and shook her head. “We hung out together all the time, it broke my heart.”

“And this was your reason why we couldn’t contact you?” I asked.

She nodded, “My excuse to consume their drinks as memorial.”

Why oh why. Wringheart’s way, and her colony’s tradition, is to drink in honor of their fallen comrades. Supposedly it had started somewhere between the Border Wars and a dead fighter’s birthday, I’m not really sure. I can count back the times she done it, when the Endeavor was docked and resting, and during missions, just like Jaruka’s rescue. It’s exasperating, one soldier needs a fix on a piece of tech and she’s too drunk to think. No party animal, all she does is drink, sing depressing folk songs, drink again, and make attempts to get thrown out. All in the effort to honor the dead.

Yet I can’t boot her from Nova; her kind is valuable to the fleet. I mean it, what I said to her was a scare tactic. Their kind, across all colonies, are gifted with the knowledge and experience with all things technological. Wizards of technology. It’s their birthright to have such genetic knowledge, and every military group, factory, company, and world needs one. Ever imagine their standard test for the gift is building a circuit board calculator at age two? I’m permitted to allow five in the fleet, Vyrokan dictation states it, and five is enough considering their antics.

“Wringheart what will I do with you?” I asked.

She perched herself on her elbows. “I can’t help it, sir. And it’s my fault for leaving my communicator behind, I was pretty shaken up.”

Sometimes I wonder why I regretted recruiting the taur. Every other Vyroka is good except her. “You’re lucky we’re on mission. Any idea what has happened in the last day?”

Combing back her hair she shook her head, “The gunslingers told me nothing, or they did and I didn’t understand.”

“Good because this is a matter of galactic security.” Both Wringheart’s puffed canine ears perked in interest. I summed up the previous events as best I could. It wasn’t that hard, telling her that the special nanites she and Decathan collaborated functioned and worked as planned made her day, then she was disappointed that she wasn't there to activate them.

I told her the story about Jaruka, and she screamed when I mentioned Terra Firma, so much so she fell off the gurney and knocked her head on a pipe. She groaned and rubbed her forehead, lower body sprawled over, and said, “Terra Firma! Are you serious? I thought Jaruka was joking?!”

I felt lost. “He’s been on it for three months, how could you believe it was a joke?” I asked.

She picked herself up using the gurney for leverage. All four canine legs supported her lower body and she stood four inches over me. More of her uniform was a mess and most not covering her plump furry orbs. “For starters he’s an asshole, I’ll never forgive him for what he did to Corporal Diremoon. And second, Terra Firma is a deathtrap with all those humans, sir. Jaruka isn’t the kind of guy to hang close to that planet. But amazingly they turn out some great stories and movies like wildfire. Have you seen…”

There were things I didn’t want to know, like how she has knowledge of human things. I changed the subject.

“Spare me the human’s pop culture facts, this is more important. Right now, Decathan is watching Jaruka’s vitals live. Jaruka’s all drugged out, unconscious, and mobile. There was one instance he woke up for a while but that’s it.” I jammed a thin finger at her. “So while we are preparing for a rescue mission into uncharted scenarios on a Red Flagged planet filled with unstable, egotistical, red eyed humans bent on destroying everything they touch, hoping to prevent a galaxy-wide war, you were in a bar, drinking your lights out. I hope you are ready to contribute your talents or else I will dangle your furry ass in front an airlock!”

She raised her hands, “Okay, Okay, I get the point. Take a swig of whisky. At least I’m here, right?” She brushed herself and adjusted her uniform, her tick bushy tail smoothed out. She was ready and determined. “Obviously karma got the best of that dread head. For starters, how are the nanites?”

Decathan came around the bed, trowing away the vomit-covered apron. “They’re having some kernel issues and the Slipspace location software seems to jump coordinates a few times, but the vital systems are intact.”

“I can fix that, easy update,” Wringheart nodded. Now we’re getting somewhere.

“Wringheart, hear me out because this is important,” I interrupted. “You need to do whatever you have to do, major or minor, to get this ship up and running, especially the nanite update.”

She nodded once.

“Now the biggest. I need a favor from both of you. Do you recall the benchmark test with the gunslinger?”

Wringheart nodded again and Decathan said, “How could I not forget? That bug was discovered by accident.”

“Good because I want it replicated with the update.”

Wringheart’s ears drooped, “The receiver bug? Sir, forgive me, but will that give Jaruka brain damage from human radio signals?”

I groaned, “I’m not saying that, I want you to turn those nanites into microphones to outside sound. Is it possible?”

She cupped her muzzle to think. “The bug is inactive, but still there. It’s no big deal, really, I can access the code, modify it, and hope it doesn’t annoy him. You know me, I never throw my inventions away.” No kidding, she recycles old and broken systems to make them ten times better. “Then I have to code the nanites to rewire themselves without…”

“I get it, but can it be done to allow continuous recordings?”

Both were shocked and it seemed that it could be next to impossible to conduct.

“Recordings? Why do we need those?” Decathan said with a short scratch of his exoskeleton head, and paused. “Yo-You don’t think Jaruka will be arrested for killing humans without authorization, right? It’s just a hunch.”

“Might so, its possible,” Wringheart swallowed, “for that I have to make power consumption efficient. I say… ten percent less than measured. But you know me, Jaruka needs to be punished.”

“He’s not going to prison, I’m making sure of it. The recordings will be leverage.” I sounded tense for what I went through with Councilman Denverbay. They don’t know it and I was successful keeping his involvement in the black from the crew. Denverbay talked of the situation and he urgently wanted to be in the War Room when ready, but he made allocations about Jaruka and a possible crime. I needed ground cover before Denverbay made his decision.

“So clean up, get checked off with Decathan, and work on the nanites as fast as you can,” I told Wringheart. “You two are to be in the War Room once we’re done with prep. You have your orders, now carry them.” I saluted and both followed.

That called for another drink, a bigger one, but I was hoping—really hoping—that whatever we get from recording Jaruka’s surroundings, that I might levitate an early death sentence and get to the bottom of Terra Firma’s condition.

Scott and Katie’s Apartment

3:52 PM

Magic is cool and practical when used carefully, but that doesn’t mean I could cast squat. Katie and Arana’s lessons helped me understand it, although, nothing worked. What had happened previously made me tired as hell, and gave me a headache. My right hand felt tired and I was almost out of breath from holding it during unsuccessful attempts.

“It isn’t working,” Mike shook his head, “I’m tellin’ you, he’s not a magic person.”

“Patience, Mike, he will get it,” Arana argued, “eventually.” I didn’t take that as a complement.

As effort, Katie was massaging my shoulders to help loosen me up. Trying to make one successful charge for an hour had made me tired. She’s so affectionate to me. “I think we’re rushing it for him,” Katie added. “Sometimes it’s hard for him to understand concepts, like when he was learning the ropes of wine making. He’ll get it.”

“Yes and no,” I said looking up at her, “I get it, I get all of it, but I’m distracted.” Not to mention the voice in my head.

“Should we give him space to focus more?” Mike suggested. Obviously all three forgot. Now for the most part I was skeptical to attempt it; Katie persuaded me to go ahead. And it happened. And I couldn’t stop it. Keeji, that nutty totem of mine, never stopped talking, and singing.

Home, home, I’m home… sweet… home.

On and on it went. The headache grew and it showed on my face. I kept holding and shaking my head during breaks.

“Have you guys forgot already? It’s not any of those,” I said with strain in my voice. Everybody stopped talking. I leaned over the table, trying to ignore the annoying and irritating singing from Keeji. “It’s Keeji. Ever since he figured out how to get back into my head he’s been nothing but a cheery broken record. I’m ready to smack myself to make him stop.”

Mike, Katie, and Arana let out a sound like they hadn’t realized it before. Katie held the longest. “Right, I forgot. Now I feel stupid,” she said, obviously.

Keeji laughed, You can’t hurt me, Scott, you will only hurt yourself. It was so wrong as he talked, like invasion of privacy. Who does this doofus think he is? Yoda?

“Maybe I will and see what happens. Now shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.” I looked at the wall, a potential relief for my inner torture.

I can’t help myself, man. I’m home. I can come in whenever I want and you can’t stop me.

“Keeji, I’m doing this for Katie!”

I can see that.

“Then how about you get out?” Oh yeah, I know it looks like I’m talking to myself as the others didn’t hear the dog, but I wanted it to stop.

No!

“Oh come on,” I exclaimed. God, it is like I’m dealing with an immature child.

I heard that. I coughed and made sounds of disgust, and then Keeji made a sound I knew was similar to sticking his tongue out. That reminds me, don’t think to yourself while your totem is inside, they hear everything. I hoped that if some other terran on earth finds a way to change totems, I would be first in line.

Before I yelled again, I paused, and looked around the apartment. It was uncomfortably quiet. All three were looking at me odd, almost backing away. Mike looked cautious and scared. Arana covered her beak, holding laughter no doubt. Katie understood me and was aware of a problem.

“Um,” I started. “Okay. We discovered a whole new level of crazy.”

“I can see that,” Mike nodded. “I can see so many complications if this happens to me.”

Katie thought the same. “You can say that again. Imagine the misunderstanding. Imagine my brothers picking on me.”

“I can imagine Jacob faulting in a baseball game,” I added, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh to see that troublemaker suffer like I did.

Arana concluded that there was only one way to make me do one successful charge. Keeji was already whimpering.

Arana told me to lean forward. The hawk hopped off the chair and to my side, her claws were inches from my Dad’s gun. I leaned in a little more than all a sudden Arana screamed in my ear, forcing Keeji to come out. I heard Keeji scream in terror, and surprisingly, he listened. Shimmers and streams of blue light came out of my body, collected into a dog’s body in mid air, they solidified, and Keeji fell onto the kitchen floor with an oof.

“Alright, alright, you win, sheesh,” he said and walked off to hide behind Katie. She scratched the back of his ears.

I rubbed my ear and said, “You could at least warn me, Arana, that almost blew my eardrum.”

“I’m irritated, Scott,” she summed. “This time, you will get it.”

Once the commotion settled, we went back to work. The routine was the same for Katie, nothing different. I extended my right hand, focused until I felt a tingling sensation, said the word loud and clear, and hoped for the best. It took me a while to understand the focusing, but Katie had explained it well.

I focused on my palm as best I could. At that point Keeji would start singing, but Arana glared at him. Good bird. And that time, it worked.

I felt energy, strange energy, coming from my stomach and travel to my hand. It felt like what you hear when nails scrape against a chalkboard and goose bumps form afterwards. I gasped as I saw glowing blue lines form on my hand, growing outward. It wasn’t exactly the same intensity as Katie’s, but I did feel the raw energy of the universe. Yet despite that, and remembering Katie’s first experience that scared me to death, the charge was flickering. Trying so hard to keep my hand lit, the magic was dying. I felt it stop and the tattoos vanished. I held my breath the whole time and released afterwards.

Arana spoke after the short pause, “Well… that’s something.”

“How are you feeling?” Katie asked me.

I leaned back in my chair feeling what I said, “Satisfied, at last. But let’s face it, I’m not good as you, Katie, I’ll have a hard time keeping it going with you seizing in my mind.” Keeji huffed.

“You’ll control it, don’t let the magic control you,” Arana quoted.

Katie was saying we have all the time for me to practice, and was looking forward to it, but she was cut off when Mike cursed. I was so sidetracked from the charging that I had ignored Mike. He had the balcony shades open.

“Mike what are you doing, people will see us,” I yelled and headed over. Five other apartments, plus those huge houses on the mountain can see our balcony window.

“Did you guys hear the screaming and shouting? There’s a mob forming and… Oh, shit they overpowered Phil!” He backed away from the window.

Katie and I looked at each other curiously. We went to the blinds and pulled them just a little. I cursed at what Mike saw. Sheriff Phil McDermit was being overrun by crazed locals. He fought on, even pointing his gun, but was surprised by an attack from behind by a baseball bat. He fell forward and a couple of burley men held him down.

The driveway had two dozen pissed off people, some with weapons like snow shovels and sports equipment. I didn’t see any guns. There were people I recognized from next door, the rest were strangers, and every face showed fear and hatred. One pointed at us and said, “Get them!”

“Crap,” I said and stepped back. Katie screamed as footsteps thundered up the stairs. I grabbed Katie and told her to lock herself in the bathroom. Swallowing hard she nodded and ran. Arana followed by entering her body through her back.

“I won’t let them get me!” Keeji yelled and ran at me. His body glowed and pulled apart to enter me. The electric shock was something I still didn’t get used to.

Mike braced himself against the front door. “I was afraid this would happen. Get that gun of yours!”

I jumped over the coffee table and snagged the gun. I fumbled with the magazine—I hadn’t touched it in years, or even practiced, so I was really rusty. Before I had it loaded, the door was kicked open. Mike was pushed by the three-men crew barging in, unable to fend off the enforcing attack.

The gun wasn’t ready, Keeji was screaming in my head, and Katie was telling me to come. And I just learned how to charge magic, dammit. What rotten luck, and more rotten when one man threw a beer bottle at me.

I ducked in time, letting it shatter against the wall. I turned away and started for the bedroom with my heart pounding in my chest. Getting there failed when somebody grabbed my tail and tugged. I fell and two more men pinned me.

“Let me go you jerks, this is not right!” I screamed. I looked to see two more heading to the bedroom, and Katie screaming. So much for those lessons, Katie didn’t have a chance to fight.

One tugged harder on my tail, and another pulled on one of my ears. One gasped and said, “No kiddin’ he was right. This guy is the real deal.”

Katie screamed louder as she was dragged by her feet and tail. “Get them outside,” one said, “these demons are toast.”

Now the demon reference got popular?

Struggling in their grasp, I saw Mike getting kicked severely by two middle-aged men. Both called him a traitor for holding fugitives… and demons. Why would they say that? He was picked up—chest bruised and a few red lines on his blue shirt—and dragged outside. I was stood up, trying to get free, but no good.

Outside it was a mess. People screamed and shouted for us to get out. My captors and Katie’s forced us down the stairs, clean from the snow. Feeling the cold air was a wake-up call, making my skin prickle. The sky was partly cloudy with the sun already setting. Hands behind my back, they could have popped out of joint at any second.

Scott, I don’t like this, Keeji said, I had dreams this would happen.

“Shut up and let me think,” I muttered.

“What did you say, freak?” One guy said, he expressed sheer hate for me, but I told him nothing.

I was forced to sit on my knees on the driveway, and Katie too, near our burned transformation circles, partly covered with scattered snow. Our only protection from the sheriff was leaning on the deputy SUV unconscious. Katie knelt beside me with her arms painfully pinned behind her back, she screamed that she did not want to die. Mike was shoved to the asphalt, beaten and unable to get up.

More screaming came and I saw Joyce get dragged by two men, both wearing Grizzly Summit uniforms. They dropped her on Mike, but kept sitting, afraid of fighting back.

People around me looked at us for the first time since yesterday. I bet some never seen a terran up close and personal. Each one branded a weapon, ready for the worst. From their eyes, they were looking to blame something, someone, and they didn’t care.

I told them to let me go or else, even tried to pry myself free and use my karate, but they kept their grip. Then I saw one guy coming from our apartment, my Dad’s gun in his hands. I gritted my teeth and told him to put it down, he ignored me and kept walking, but who he was walking to made my eyes wide with fear.

Oh, and not to mention the rank, alcohol smell mixed with a dirty, mud and blood-covered green raincoat.

The man gave my Dad’s Sig Sauer to Tom Herb. He palmed it, took a good look at me, longer at Katie with vengeance, and said, “Make peace with God you monsters from Hell.”

Wish I took the magic thing a little serious.