YAFJ

New Twists in the Path

2010-11-30T11:12:00.000-08:00

I woke up at my desk again... wait, not my desk... How did I end up... in Dr Beck's office?

Right... Father and the others suited for underwater operations went after Qli, I headed the Becks surgery to prep it for triage...

Red Fire.

I turned to see the rest of the surgery, and the pool of blood... but no body? Think, girl - what happened here?

Near as I can remember, I had an episode in the Madness. I searched the desk for notes. No receipts for the morgue, the sheriff or even the cold storage units at the Consulate... but the formulas here....

Oh, no.

After all the nagging I did about the reanimation serum, Father is going to be really upset to find out I made an alternate batch.

Now I have to find a wandering ex-corpse.

The Boxcar

2010-11-05T21:36:00.000-07:00

I have the memories of five warriors, but this would be my first battle on home territory under my own power. Preparing for it had been by spinal reactions, but inside, there was a small corner of my brain looking for a place to hide. Waiting for the go signal, that small piece of me wanted to run, but I knew this was something that needed to be done.

Suddenly there was too much going on, keeping track of the patrol made up of Jaegers who had learned to swim and Qli taking Beck out of harm’s way - that which was called Steel Head by the urchins was cornered, even if it did not know. As soon as it realized it was cut off, we would need to banish it quickly.

Zaide’s notes said the key to the thing would be something small, easily carried by the primary life form of the plane. Finding it visually in this morass of flotsam was difficult, especially while dodging the large bodies in battle. The boxcar was huge if you were searching for something that fit in the hand, but far too small for a patrol of Jaegers to duke it out with something making a bid for demigod. At Father’s shout, I risked flying by wireframe in Sight.

THERE! It glowed feebly with Beck’s soul trapped in the web, and I was horrified to find the web was made up of the wisps of the souls caught before him! The thing was making the prison stronger with each soul it caught to anchor! Smashing it would do no good, Beck would die, and the others would not go on to the planes of their beliefs.

Papa picked up on my distress, and growled, “Do vat hyu must, Hy will coffer.” With his bulk between me and that thing that did not belong here, I had to move fast. Unmaking something made by a mind this twisted was hard, like trying to explain land physics to a fish, but I had a little help from Beck, as he roiled about in the center, and oddly enough, from Chi Yun. He had been tapped as a herald, but had been killed before the call had pulled him in completely. He writhed in impatience as we unwove the prison holding them.

Beck’s sluggish reactions meant he would need help finding his way, but we had that already. As Chi Yun joyfully folded into the space between planes for his reincarnation, and what was left of Polish Bob was gathered to Purgatory for reformation, I gathered Beck up and pitched him to the catcher on the pier, mentally shouting **Lady Fairycat! Heads up!** Even as she winced at the horrid (and really unintentional, honest!) pun, Softpaw pulled his soul and body back together.

Then Ya Yiwama got angry.

Thrashing about, it reached for the tooth, throwing the patrol around as if they were children's toys. The last bit of the tooth was still holding him here, and I frantically incinerated it, the last of the ash disintegrating to nothing just before the thing reached Papa. When it was gone, so was Steal Head, then something shifted under the boxcar, and it began to slide into the harbor. Papa shouted, “Shift out, Hy get out onder!” and he dove for the opening on the underside of the boxcar, following Decebalus and Radu.

Qli was wedged up against the wall, not moving. I was able to reach her as the water reached half-way up the tilting boxcar floor. At my touch, she initiated a galvanic transmission, [SELF-DIAGNOSIS: TESSERACTOR DESTROYED. SPINAL COLUMN DESTROYED. LIMBS DESTROYED. SAVE YOURSELVES. COLLECT ME AFTER. POWERING DOWN.] I kissed her forehead and promised, “I will be back for you after I get the diving gear.” Then I slipped between planes to the place Father had designated as the medical triage area.

It just keeps getting worse....

2010-10-13T21:41:00.000-07:00

Fine, I get Mama to rest a few days, and she sets up a containment circle for neophyte epmaths in the Folly garden. At least this time she did it with the notes I left, and it isn't draining her to leave it up.

Beck's been missing for too long, and not in any of the usual spots he goes to pollute himself as part of his self-medication. I didn't get a link on him, my fault - I didn't think he'd go that far on walkabout. I'll tag him when we find him again, with or without his permission. Need to get with that jeweler and find out what we can trace, if we can manage a shield that will let her sense him without getting out of control.

Control - I haven't been keeping my shape well, if the reactions from Mama's assistant are any gauge. I thought I had managed to stay unnoticeable, but either I have cracks in the glamorie, or she's seen too many of what she calls "uncanny" acts. I don't know, maybe it's just because she knows me now. I'm tired enough it could be I am just forgetting to check it.

Father has his hands full of zombies again. I swear, they ought to just have inoculations every equinox, considering how often that comes up again. Except for that librarian, and the ones Father is able to treat, zombies are a bloody nuisance, literally. There's a weird thought... the librarian zombie seems to have the best social skills, I ought to see if it is the knowledge, instead of brains, that they need.

Back to Steelhead, flying on too little sleep, I go to ground before Xavael starts to patrol. Even with the bloodline trace, it's hard to believe the link to the Founder. Still gives me the shakes remembering the emergence.

Wolfgang is usually on watch when I get in. He wrinkles his nose at me when I collapse on the davenport without taking off my armor. Sorry to be such a slob, but I don't think anybody's going to sleep without some sort of weapon in hand. Papa was half-dozing in the armchair, last time I was there, and he had switched back to his old patrol leathers. The 'kin haven't had any leave time lately, but the hunt has caught their attentions.

Still, this can't go on much longer. I need sleep.

Hell Week All Over

2010-09-09T13:08:00.000-07:00

Between interviewing the staff that were having sleep problems, tracking down trace evidence for the Quester, and trying to keep the staff from forming an angry mob, I’ve been distracted from a situation I can feel but can’t help. Not that I could leave my duties here, but there is something going on... later.

What with the Gallifreyans occasionally dropping by for a cryptic bit of interrogation over tea now and again, I figure I eventually figure out how to time-shift between planes, or they have me confused with my sister. You don’t know her yet, so don’t worry. The one that dropped by this week was mercifully brief, and I dropped a bug in her ear about checking on my brother in a few decades. I can’t get more specific than that from this angle.

I got a quick visit from Great Uncle Ibiz, after I sent him a note with questions about shielding others from psychic attacks. His lessons came just in time, what with Hâjdău fretting over her beau, and others on staff worrying about their families. Aunt Kitla has been setting wards along many of the residential streets, focusing on protecting the Managers and Council first, as they are going to have to take the lead against... whatever is coming.

That was an interesting interview, going to Manager Lunar and asking his permission for the equations to be formed. His main worry was that it would make us seem unfriendly to all. Aunt Kitla reassured him that the wards would only work on those with intent to harm. I quietly had a word with one of the owls later, asking if they could keep an eye out for us. I got a cryptic, sort of feeling, sort of “If we have time” from them. I may fly, but I still don’t understand birds.

Another cryptic one is the watcher for Antfarm. I managed to snag a salmon over the falls before dropping in yesterday morning, and the tomcat was waiting on the front porch. [he sleeps now, and not so many nightmares from the other place] he said before tearing into the salmon I had field-dressed. While he ate, I checked the wards I had put on the house. Still there, and this one was a bit hinky, since I set them up without Mr Antfarm’s permission. Not that he could see them. I think. But they were to protect him, and unlike the personal protections I did for the staff, I was able to link these wards to the ley lines on the property. The tomcat spoke up suddenly, [watch your head - the one coming is old - very old - likes sneaking up on the sleeping ones]. I nodded, [Thank you, cousin, I will].

Normally, my next stop would be Dr Beck’s office, but I was too tired for another argument-that-was-only-a-discussion-about-his-health, and headed for the Consulate office. The clerk’s den was buzzing, much like any industrious hive, but there was an undertone to the murmurs, one that did not bode well for the perpetrator of the dreams. There is fear, but a lot of the staff are transmuting that into anger. The ones from the Old Country don't take well to being manipulated like that. Aunt Kitla’s report has already made the rounds of the desks here, and they seem to understand her conjecture that there is a pawn being used, one that is not well educated enough to be a sorcerer calling up an Elder God. This is the benefit of having an educated populace, at least they have a proper discussion before voting to take up pitchforks and torches.

Hâjdău greeted me with a cup of tea and a pastry from the galley, and generally fussed over me until Mama was done with the courier in her office. Mama has one rule about going into her office - if the door is closed, you don’t go in unless the building is on fire. The kid looked much more rested than the last time I saw her, and miles better than when I first saw her for her nightmares. While I ate, she gathered the reports on the Quester’s needs for me, and typed up my rough notes on my last patrol for Vater. We finished up about the time the courier left Mama’s office, and as I was putting my plates at the galley, I heard someone sneeze. Hâjdău muttered, “sănătate,” as a few others absently said “bless you,” and Mama responded, “mersi”.

When a few heads popped up at that exchange, I grabbed my bag out of the aether and went to her office. Considering the last time Mama was ill, it was from that expedition into the Mines, and that was almost two years ago. “What have you been doing, other than too much?” I asked as I began the examination. She waved at me irritably, “I am fine, just tired.” Her shields were fairly thin, though. “How many are you shielding, now?” I asked, knowing her technique was to spin out additional shields from her personal ones.

She shrugged, “Family, students and some of the staff... maybe fifteen, all told. No, I added Miss Blackheart to the network after the meeting, sixteen.” Then she sneezed again.

“Hâjdău, could you go get the captain, and Messenger, please let the Baron know Mama is on sick leave.” Mama’s assistant dashed off and Messenger nodded, asking “How long do you estimate she will be unavailable?”

“Normally, I’d say two weeks, but it will be a fight to keep her in bed more than a few days.” He nodded and began drafting a note for Vater. Mama was not at all happy about it, “Why are you bringing Captain Veles in on this?” I was still checking her over, and not liking what I saw. “Because the only way to get you to rest properly is to set your bodyguard on the detail, and Aunt Birdie is still at Bunică’s house.” She started winding up for a debate, but as soon as Papa showed up with Hâjdău trailing behind, she probably saw it was not an argument she would win.

“Fine, but I am still expecting reports...” she muttered, until Papa shook his head, and led her from the office to the house. Hâjdău asked as they left, “Is she really cut off from the daily reports? We really should have something for her, or she’ll worry.”

“And worrying will not help her get better, true. Send a copy of the morning reports, and I’ll make sure she sleeps through the afternoon dispatch.” I nodded, “Good thing you’re here - you’d be wasted in the schloss.” With that, I closed the door to Mama’s office and left on foot, following my own advice to get some rest.

When Others Are Losing Theirs

2010-08-20T12:42:00.000-07:00

I've only been cleared for flight for a week, now. Seems I had some residual damage from the divine revelation, even with the instinctive actions from my eyes. Luckily, Wolfgang was able to let me link to his eyes well enough to get me off the pagoda. Mama says he's designing winged apparatus, now. Good thing I don't have to see to planes shift, she was pretty upset.

Great Uncle Ibiz grounded me until my vision came back to 20/1, but I was able to see well enough to walk in a few days, so I took some time to work on his project, interviewing the old aunties in the villages on the Dyne watershed. They were delighted to have someone to talk to them about the begets of the village. Not a lot of new information, but it all gets recorded, in case it is needed for another project.

I filed copies with the local census department, and headed back with copies for Vater. He's a lot better about sharing information if it is reciprocal. It took little time to drop them off with Vater's assistant. Typing them up took the most time, because Mama's assistant was out. Then I noticed about half the support staff was not in the office.

"Ah, do you have any duties for the rest of the day? Could you run some errands in town for me?" Mama's tone was hopeful, with a slight edge of stress to it. When she starts down that road, it's better to pitch in than skive off. Besides, anything else I had on my plate would have been in Europa or the family holdings. Her relief was a cool breeze as she handed me a list of the staff that were out, and their addresses. "Please check on these people, we might have something not-physical happening." Another sheet of paper, "...and the reports we have so far, if any of them are embarrassed about having issues."

"So, you aren't suspecting a sick-out or goldbricking," I checked the first sheet of paper, and saw Hâjdău headed the list, "...erm, I see - not with her in on it."

"Her first missed day of work - yes, I am worried, but cannot spare the time to check on her right now." I glanced over and saw three clerks waiting to talk to her.

"I got it Mama, and I can have this for you by lunch, if there's nothing serious." Rather than shove out through the crowd, I left by the open window. Hâjdău lives at the hotel, less than a block from the office, so I glided over. Shifting back to my cipher-in-the-background form when I landed on the hotel's front steps, none of the staff likely saw anything but the Wulfenbach courier's uniform as I crossed the lobby.

When she responded to the knock on her door, Hâjdău did not sound sick, she sounded scared out of her wits. Still, I reached into the margins *pulled* my medic pack out of the Infirmary as I answered, "It's Ama, from the office - I came by to check on you."

Hâjdău opened the door, quickly, asking "Do I still have my head?"

Ooookay, so this was going to be one of those illnesses. "I see you as I last saw you, but why don't I come in and make sure there's nothing wrong, hm?" Since she was still in her nightgown and dressing robe, I figured it better to get her calm with some routine medical evaluation. She nervously let me in, and I checked her over. There weren't any physical problems that I could find in my quick once-over, save that she was worn out. She probably had not been sleeping well, poor kid. By the time I got to testing her pupil reactions, they were no longer pinpoints, and responded to light appropriately. "Everything checks out, can you tell me what feels wrong?" She was a little upset, but it was directed inward, scolding herself for being so skittish. Nodding, I said, "Why don't I start off, " and I made a show of reading from the sheaf of papers I brought with me, "Things have been relatively normal during the day, but at night you dream of Steelhead being shrouded in fog..."

She started in shock, and the words just tumbled from her like a mountain stream at snow-melt, mostly in Romanian. "It is so eerie, the streets are blocked by fog so thick it is difficult to breathe, and it does not get better when I am indoors! I wake, and was getting ready for work, when I could not find my head! Her panic was increasing in waves, and I had to throw a shield around her to keep myself calm.

"It's all right! It is a dream, but it is one that many are having! We can fix this, at least enough so you will know it is a dream, and be able to rest." Taking a moment to adjust the shields to keep things from reaching in to her, I asked, "Do you have a favorite stone, or piece of jewelry?" I knew she was going to show me that promissory ring, but it helped deflect her mind away from the panic. When she held up her hand, I told her to focus on it. She did so, quizzically, and I let a little of the power of anchoring the shields in the metal bleed through to the visible light spectrum.

I dropped back into English, "There... it won't keep them out completely, but it will be enough to keep them from scaring you half to death. If you are not wearing that ring, keep it within arm's reach of you, at least until we find out who is behind the dreams."

She looked at the ring with wide eyes as the slight glow faded. "You... you did not change the ring from what it was, did you?"

"No, it's just a convenient anchor. Your young man's gift is still there with it." Her head snapped up, and I smiled, "The feelings attached to that are still a promise. Though none of us have even met him yet."

Hâjdău blushed, then yawned, "Oh! My apologies, I shouldn't have yaw-" and then she did it again.

I chuckled, "You need to catch up on your sleep. I will check back on you later, after I get through the rest of the list." I let myself out of her room without waiting for her to stand.

Once out of the hotel, I shifted to wings and headed to Auntie Kitla's workshop in Harborside. That little parlour trick with the ring took more out of me than I dared let on in front of Hâjdău. She had to believe in it for it to work at full power, but whatever it was behind the dreams was old. Ancient and powerful enemies are not taken on lightly, and we were going to need the big guns for this.

Does it mean you have to throw your body off a building?

2010-07-06T23:09:00.000-07:00

Father was fine, of course. Once I got him to the clinic, he was struck by inspiration. It seems odd, but I don’t share his passion for engineering. I left him to it and transitioned back to Steelhead. I had been awake for going on thirty hours, and needed to rest. One last patrol before sleeping, since I was still too wound up to sleep properly.

Everything was fine until I got to Shanghai. Finding a shopkeeper on the roof was not normal, but it did not look like he was preparing to jump. Still, I circled his building, letting him know I was there, and landed near him, careful of loose tiles.

“I should be doing something,” he said by way of greeting. Speaking in Russian, it took me a little bit to find the right language centers in my head. Bits of half-memories of folk-tales told by a woman’s voice helped me make the connection.

“Do you get any feelings other than that?” My pronunciation was not quite right, mostly because I had to be careful not to filter in the Romanian with it. “Anything I can do to help?”

Mr Danielovich shook his head, “Nothing specific... not even a place I should go walking... only that it is nearing the time...”

Going carefully, I tried to read his emotional aura. You have to be careful with empathic work, because someone who was borderline sensitive might be startled by the brush of something not physical. You might not even know they were sensitive until they began to have hysterics. Sitting on the edge of a roof, that would be bad. “You generally get told to go out wandering with this feeling?” I asked under the cover of a calm reassurance projection.

He shrugged, staring off into some middle distance. “You get to know when you need to be somewhere, right? Take a turn into an alley maybe one block sooner than you usually do, or go see the sights across the bay.” His focus sharpened, briefly, staring at the spot where Father's lab had been. He shivered in the warm breeze, and I remembered that he had gotten Mr Antfarm out of the wreckage. I could not remember if anyone mentioned Mr Danielovich being injured at all. Now, when I tried to pin down recollections of that time, my mind slithered away to Mr Antfarm’s treatment, Rengerin’s investigation, and anything else that was happening at the time.

“Huh, neat trick, that - being able to be there, just in time.” He had some good shields, so he was not radiating his emotional state like most humans do. It’s not that odd, finding someone shielded. Some people just grow them out of need in times of extreme adversity, and that seems to be something a lot of immigrants to our city have in their past. The ones that don’t shield tend to go mad, or drug themselves into a stupor. That reminded me I needed to check up on Dr Beck. AFTER I talked Mr Danielovich off the roof. “Does coming up here make the feeling stronger?”

He seemed to struggle with words, even though we were still talking in Russian. “It is... up, but not here, and not... now, only.... there is still the urgency....”

More soothing projections, “Would you like to try a higher altitude? I can give you a lift up higher...”

“Yes, please - this itching in my spine is becoming stronger.” He stood up, and I pulled on my grip gloves, while he got into position.

I had not noticed he was in the exact correct position for a wrist-grip pickup, and said, “Right - let’s get you into the air, Xavael.” A simple slip of the tongue, with monumental consequences. I do not know why I decided to test my theory at that moment... and at the time, I had not realized I had said the other’s name.

He stopped, becoming very still, and whispered something I did not catch. While I was hovering, waiting for him to get back on his mark, he turned to me, and said quietly, “I Remember.”

There was a light kindled in his eyes, and it swiftly grew to encompass him, and he repeated, as the wings unfolded from his back, “I Remember!” in a clear voice, no louder than we had been speaking, but it seemed to echo back from the rest of the city. The radiance grew bright enough my irises closed completely to save my retinas, and then suddenly, he was gone.

I hadn’t expected him to transform in front of me. I shakily landed on the roof, wondering what had been loosed in the world, and where the angel had gone. I wasn’t going to be able to sleep for a while.

Father Knows Best?

2010-06-11T15:51:00.000-07:00

I folded through the sunset in Steelhead to the pre-dawn darkness in the bayou outside New Toulouse. Combat protocols indicate high altitude transfer with minimal disturbance of the flow, to assess the area. Even at a klick up, the Founder glowed brightly. I guess the family never has gone in for subtle, even from the first. No unfriendlies in the area, and He Who Is Speaker was gone. I landed quickly, and made the proper obiescence to the Founder.

Zaide's heartsong shone through as he knelt beside me and hugged me, an action that my parents would not believe he was capable of doing. As we rose, he said, "There is no time for formalities. Darien will awaken soon. He is once again mortal. Under no circumstances is he to inject himself with the formula again." He stepped back for takeoff. I saluted as he faded out, and turned to Father.

Still groggy, he was uninjured, and to my surprise, his eyes were again the brilliant blue of a New England autumn sky. I muttered under my breath, "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to keep him from doing something he knows is a bad idea, but he keeps doing it...."

Father growled, "...'m not deaf, Amarantis." He carefully levered himself up. "We should..."

"We should get you to the clinic, just to make sure you are all right," I interrupted him. When he staggered on standing, I was a little worried. A quick reading of his aura as I supported him showed it was mostly fatigue. Still, taking him to the infirmary was a good idea, it might keep him out of trouble for a few hours.

Tumbling through the crises

2010-05-30T13:55:00.000-07:00

The conference with the family was a bit shocking. There were more questions generated than answers to the older issues. Still, we have a course of investigation now, where before we only had educated guesses.

I filed my papers with Mother so that I could start canvassing the mountain district as part of the Health Brigade. As long as we were at it, I might as well make it official, and help on two fronts for the clan and Vater.

Making the transition back to Steelhead, I intended to check up on my charges there when the shock reached through the planes. Vlok het - Koen was transitioning forward? Was he mad? Well, yeah, okay - he IS a Mason, that goes with the territory, but whatever... I picked up Qli's distress signal, and marked the coordinates. I wasn't sure I could make it there without a boost, but I could arrange that in Steelhead.

Landing on the roof of the Consulate office building, I dug my key to the hatch out of my belt-pouch, when another wave hit me - Zaide? He was back? Wait, what in the name of the Seven Sciences did Father think he was doing?

Then another connection snapped into place and I had no thoughts other than getting to New Toulouse.

So much to do, so few hours.

2010-05-17T14:34:00.000-07:00

I spiraled in over the lake, the late morning sun causing sparkles on the surface. My goal was the cabin he was building for himself. Very good work, for one who was near death not so long ago.

I landed, and took stock of the area. His horse was nowhere nearby, but it seemed the pair of them were together, possibly on a supply run.

[did you bring me anything?] the nudging purr at my ankle asked. I smiled and pulled the bundle from my waist pouch. Likely that the tomcat had scented it, prompting him to speak to me. The salmon had been caught fresh that morning, part of breakfast not eaten when I caught up with Papa on patrol.

The little cat growl-purred his way through his meal, and as he finished, I asked, [Any news, little cousin?]

He groomed his whiskers, [doctor was here, some builder-types. No urchins] he said, shaking his paw in distaste at mentioning them.

[Not all of them are as bad as the one I rescued you from.] That little git had gone to ground soon after, whether he was caught by Gloom or was just staying out of my sight, I did not care.

[Poor treatment, no proper offerings from the lot of them] he growled, and continued his post-meal grooming. [not much from him either] an ear-twitch toward the house said which him was meant [but he speaks well] The cat stopped grooming [he has nightmares, but they do not come from here]

I nodded, [He has many threads still hooked in him. Please watch out for him while I am gone?]

[you will bring fish] the cat stated. As he turned to sun himself on the step, he affirmed [will watch].

Patrols and Reports

2010-02-05T05:12:00.000-08:00

Antfarm found this doctor without too much guidance. It's good for him to get back on his feet, even if he had to deal with the urchins. The students were just as curious, but ever since Wolfgang, they've been a little less anxious to investigate neighbors. The air in St Helen's will do him some good, and I can leave supplies at his camp when he is on his hikes. Far enough away that the children won't have time to pester him constantly, but close enough he can get into Shanghai to see Dr Beck, it's a good spot.

The trip to Caledon meant I could not patrol as often as I used to, so I have some catching up to do. That Gloom creature was new. The children, urchins or students, are at risk until we can put this one down. Dr Beck is trying to get some information from the remains of the one found. He has more experience in this kind of investigation... and he's having flashbacks in the middle of things. I don't know him well enough yet to help with those. I'll have to sound him out on non-traditional therapies.

The therapeutic regimen he set for himself is not going to do him any good in the long run. He hasn't taken any sever damages yet, and he's still healthy enough that I'm not worried yet. His mind is till mostly intact, and his neurological reactions are still solid enough to treat others. I still trust him more than Roundtree, because even with his ghosts, he's still trying to care for the slum-dwellers.

Mama also had problems with Shanghai, centered around something in the hotel. I went over her notes, and something has moved into Dragonlands since my last patrol there. I can see why she is weirded out by it. I am going to see what Greenie can make of it, because this should be safe enough territory.

Unfolding the Past, Wrapping the Present

2010-01-26T11:53:00.001-08:00

Unfolding the Past, Wrapping the Present

That drizzly morning where I stormed into the sanitarium, seemingly for the first time in weeks, I was not in the mood to deal with polite guidelines of behavior. I'm not quite sure I remember everything I called Roundtree, but some of it was medically impossible (even for mad science) and I was kinda loud. The police had taken that nurse off to whatever they thought was safe, and Mack seemed fine with me not physically threatening the doctor. "What sort of hospital are you running where the staff can go off the deep end and you DON'T BLOODY WELL NOTICE?!?!"

He got huffy, and was about to bring out the I Am The Doctor voice, and I cut him off. "I do not give a damn what you think you were doing, I am taking him out of here before the rest of your staff decides he needs 'help'." Hayes pitched in, babbling about how he could not be moved, and the nurses murmuring it was all so unseemly, but they couldn't find Ward Sister Grace to tell me off.

About half my rage was an act. Yeah, I was angry, and it really was a shoddy way to treat them, but the main thing was keeping my wings mantled and the claws extended. I needed some physical space for the shields to work, here. I had a thread of a connection to Mr Antfarm, stepping his pain reactions off, and channeling the energy to boost his immune system, increase the healing of his wounds and give him some strength. I had enough of padding around the rules of maintaining the status quo of the local medical standards. They were doing less for him than we had been able to manage in Steelhead.

Sweeping the hospital for more energy sources, I started to get the residuals from Nurse Rain's activities from the day. It was worse than they thought. "...and where is your Ward Dragon? Where was she when all of this was happening?" The nurses that had been under Sister Grace began muttering. From their whispers, Sister Grace had not been in the dorm that night, and I knew from when I was hiding here that she never left the campus. No lover, no family to visit, her whole life was the hospital, and yet and Sister Grace was no-where on the grounds. I also knew, from the negative pool of energy in the basement, something was very wrong.

Mack looked like he was about to drop, but his day shift counterpart Daniel had just shown up, and they were having a hurried conference in the back of the crowd. They peeled off down the wards with about a half-dozen of the younger nurses and all but the two burliest of the orderlies. Those two were flanking Roundtree like goombahs backing a don as we argued back-and-forth about his medical qualifications.

About ten minutes later, a shriek went up from the basement, and soon after, Watchman Daniel pelted up the stairs. I was just able to pull my working shields in when he reached me and grabbed my wrist. I nearly pulled back and decked him, but he was radiating more concentration than fear. He turned my hand over, and inspected my talons, then he took a sniff of the back of my hand. "I di'n think so, but I had't be sure. We need you to stick around, jus' th' same."

Ignoring Roundtree's demands for information, I nodded, "I will stay in arm's reach of you while we wait for the police."

Hours later, the police cleared me, when they found the coal shovel, and the hand-prints in the blood that were smaller than mine. True, I am a shape-shifter, but the hands were also the size of Nurse Rain's. The Caledon investigator looked me over, and shook his head, "Na, you've not been in the basement, I think. I know how to contact you, Dr Belfire." That was a shock, as I hadn't even told my parents I had passed my boards. I had the oddest feeling he was taking my family history just by glancing over my clothes. The small pin on his lapel depicting an open book gave me a clue where he might be getting his information, but at least he was clearing me of the murders.

Yes, murders. They found two separate scenes of carnage, one in the laundry, and one in the boiler room. No bodies yet, though they were shutting down the boiler to see if anything was left. The hospital was short-staffed, and it seemed the staff was dwindling more with each new revelation.

In all of the confusion, we managed to get everyone clear of room fifteen, long enough for someone to dress and slip away. It was the least I could do for him, as the staff still would not release him to me. I still have the thread attached to him, so I can find him later when we get a doctor for him. Father is not available, and Vater is more of a neurosurgical specialist, so I hope I can drag Beck out of whatever memory-dampening stupor he's dug himself into this week.

Short Commercial Break

2009-12-30T12:45:00.001-08:00

Look, I have to edit a lot of words Ladies aren't supposed to use in Steamlands Society from my next bit of my journal. I was (language redacted) upset with that (language redacted) medical professional, Dr Roundtree, and my parents read this. True, of the five of them only three would notice, and Mama might say something about it.

So go look at this entry about the Dragonlands rentals. I was there for a visit after returning to Steelhead to, erm... I have to check the statute of limitations on this one... just go read, then visit the Dragonlady and get yourself a place to sleep. I wasn't there, you didn't see me.

Angel of Mercy, Angel of Death

2009-12-22T09:34:00.000-08:00

I had to switch to a nocturnal schedule to monitor him properly. The hospital is bustling most of the day, and after watching the movements of the staff, I can just about mimic their patterns to further disguise my appearance. Shape-shifting into someone they expect to see takes practice, but not a great deal of energy. All it took was a firmer sense of self, and a strong need.

Being an under nurse in this place is absolute hell. It is a wonder anyone stays. We have to get that new guy in the slums straightened out enough to run a hospital full time. It's a wonder anyone survives this place. It's clean enough, and the science is usually sound, but there is so little contact it is a wonder if the diagnoses are right half the time. I had enough in the first day to switch to night watch.

Hiding in the attic was the only way, but this time I was close enough to react when the ward alarm went off a scant hour before dawn. Still wearing the seeming of one of the under nurses, I slipped past the ward nurse and into room fifteen.

The room was dark, and I wondered how a human navigated it - unless they were intimately familiar with the room layout. But of course, this one did know, she was supposed to be here.

As the figure reached into her cloak and pulled out her tools, I heard her murmur, “There, there, Mr Antfarm. I’m here to help you. You’ll be better soon. Let me take your pain away.” Her voice was gentle as the rain outside.

Grabbing her wrist before she could dose him, I growled, "That is enough of that, sister."

She shrieked, and stabbed at me with the pipette. Not the harridan that ruled the floor, this was the tweenie that got sent down today! In my surprise, I lost my hold on my shape, reverting to my default.

Well, of course that was a surprise for her. Cross-dimensional beings are not unknown here, but finding a bat-winged, fanged figure with glowing blue eyes holding your arm in a dark room will be startling to lots of people. As romantic as her notions about killing people as a mercy to them were, it was too much for her. She fainted dead away.

The commotion was bound to bring someone, and I had to make a quick choice. Nurse Rain was not authorized to be on this floor, but I was not even authorized to be in the building. Discretion being the better part of valor, I blended back into the shadows and shifted between planes to the stairwell.

When the night nurse came in holding her lamp aloft, saying sotto voce, "What goes on here?" there was naught to see but Mr Antfarm, and Nurse Rain, clutching her bottle of opium. I slipped back into my guise as an under nurse and quickly retraced my steps to the room. The evidence was there, and the night nurse was thankfully a sharp one. She barely glanced at me, ordering me to get the watchman and the doctor on call.

Luckily, I didn't have far to go to get Mack, as her screech had been heard downstairs as well. He was on hand to help restrain Nurse Rain as she came out of her faint, babbling about demons keeping her from her duty. The doctor on call was not Roundtree, but one of his students. This one had studied a year in Vienna, much to Antfarm's luck, and was able to sign her into one of the observation rooms. He noted the opium bottle, and her hysteria, and managed to write up a neat assessment dismissing her report of seeing me as hallucination, caused by her conscience and possible drug abuse.

All this went on without any need for me to guide it, and I stopped in to see Mr Antfarm. He had not gotten any further dosages, and his eyes tracked me well enough. I let my eyes show through the seeming, and told him, "I will make sure you get better, but I can't promise there will be no pain. I will do my best, though."

Downstairs, in a broom closet on the ground floor, I shifted back to my default, taking time to pull together my formal suit to confront Roundtree as soon as he got to the hospital.

The State of Medicine

2009-12-01T06:10:00.000-08:00

Roundtree may be an unfeeling bastard, but at least he is competent within the field of medicine. Pity he can't seem to manage the staff.

Sleeping on the roof is as close as I can get to my charge, seeing as how I am not a relative, and my medical credentials do not translate here. Besides, I had only made it into the internship program before this started. Since there is a pixie squatter in the belltower, I have to stick to the battlements. Once it snows I should see about getting into the attics, if he is still here.

I nearly missed the one overdosing Antfarm, because her aura was one of the ones who belonged there. I had a choice of slipping between planes to catch her, or diverting the opium syrup to a less harmful spot. Even the small displacement from his mouth to the spot under his cot was draining, enough so I lost the trace of her (I think it was female) as soon as she left his room.

This is no longer just a medical issue. Getting around the night watchman was too easy, so I felt there was the need to install wards around his room, taking a moment for a check of his vital signs. A quick sweep of his room, placing a listening device or two, and taking a sample of the syrup on the floor took as little time as I had between the watchman's rounds. The footstep at the end of the hall reminded me I should not be here outside the visiting hour, and forestalled me from changing his bandages. I slipped between planes and resumed my watch from the roof.

The more I visit here, the more I feel the need to build a proper clinic.

The Dreaming One

2009-10-23T06:18:00.000-07:00

He is stable enough to be moved, at least on this plane. I wish I could take him to the Infirmary, but his hold on this reality is too thin to make the transition safely. We have seen nothing of the sheriff's cousin, and since Father was exiled, we haven't got a medical facility. Regency Hospital is not what it used to be, and that just leaves the Tam San. I honestly don't like the idea, but he is being moved to Caledon.

I am going with him, of course. The sanitarium staff did care for Uncle Gus well enough when he was lost in Aunt Gem's mind, but the director has not had more cross-planar experience by now. His injuries are more extensive than Uncle Gus's. The Regency Hospital deals with the injuries to Caledonians well enough, and Lady Darkling is his sponsor there. She was distressed to find out the bottled lightning had any part in the fire. Rengerin tells me it was just another link in the causality chain, but not the key reason for the accident.

Another reason to go is I am responsible for him. He was injured in the house of my father, as a guest. I must honor the law, and do my best by the ger. He believed himself to be Zaide, but it was not out of malice. The taistealaí will be honored.

Mama's assistant arranged airship passage for us, as that would be the best way to move him. I also asked her to keep an eye out for those searching for him. I do not know if he has any family, but there are several people interested in him. The ones that have not come forward to ask after him in his convalescence are the ones that worry me.

Lifting off into the pre-dawn light, I locked the door to the cabin and settled in to nap beside his bunk, trying to reach him through his travels.

The Parts Inbetween

2009-10-06T05:05:00.000-07:00

He knows who he is, and is not, at last.

Though he hangs in the balance, not really here and not truly gone, he knows his beginnings. I am not a telepath, so I am unable to tell you his story, but he radiates peaceful contentment in his comatose state.

Soaking him in the trough filled with the burn ointments has made caring for him a delicate process. There were a few spots where his skin was burned away completely, but there is still a chance he will survive. It mostly depends on if he decides to wake up.

Rengerin tried to give me a report on what she found in the ruins, but I have honestly been too tired to focus on anything but his injuries. Tensai hasn't thrown me out of the sick room, yet. My sleeping on the pallet here has freed her up to manage Steelhead.

Could I have stopped him? What more should I have done to protect him?

Can't A Girl Get Any Sleep?

2009-07-30T19:28:00.000-07:00

Wolfgang finally transformed last night, no doubts about that. Vater was properly publicly offended that the sheriff had hidden the tribe past the marker oak. Hey, for all I know, he could have been actually surprised, since he doesn't have time to read all of the reports. My reports are mostly low priority, since I am not officially attached to the office, and all I had seen was a village in a pocket valley, with no signs of martial organization beyond hunting parties.

After Anya calmed him down, Wolfie was a little disoriented, and understandably upset by the transformation. He was mostly worried about what he had done, and Sheriff Ortega confirmed he was not in trouble, just that he had to learn control. To do that, they would be leaving at daybreak. Mama started organizing the staff at the dance, handing out assignments as she walked with her arm around Wolfie, getting back to the Consulate building. I checked Wolfie over and he had no strains or cuts from his escape. Some of it was that he was limber and possessed of the Trickster's own luck, but some of it was rapidly healed.

Papa was upset we don't have something strong enough to contain a teenage werewolf, but he shrugged and hid it from the rest of the group. I might have to arrange for him and Uncle Gus to talk about security cells later. I only know medical restraints, and I don't think anything I have at hand would be able to keep up with Wolfie's metabolism. He is off chicken for a bit, I think, but was able to eat a respectable amount of bauernfruhstuck with a side of sticky buns for the first time in a while. Good thing Bunică came by to help Mrs Parks with the kitchen duties in the small hours of the morning, what with trying to feed and provision everyone to be ready by daybreak.

Bunică managed to save a dozen sticky buns to send to Anya for helping out. Interesting that all she had to say was "They are for Anya" and Wolfie left them alone. He even added a bowl of whortleberries to the basket before he left to pack. His first reflex to pack for a scientific field trip was deflected by Papa turning out his pack, and taking out half the empty sampling vials, replacing weight-for-weight with field rations and the trail kit. Wolfie added the slingshot and the shepherd's sling on his own.

I headed back to the lab again and slept. It's gotten to the point I sleep better with the hum of Father's machinery in the background. No word back from him, but with the aetheric transmitter, we don't always match times anymore - but at least I get to talk to him and my sibs occasionally. I drifted off organizing my next report for him.

I woke briefly when Manager Lunar came in. There's another kettle of trouble, but even as a teen-aged human, he knows which things to leave alone. It was safe enough for me to doze off again until I heard the clatter of someone unused to the stairs past the decontamination field across the door. The newcomer who is not Zaide was downstairs. I moved silently to the edge of the sleeping loft to watch and listen.

The offhand way the Manager rattled off decades of the Foundation history rankled a bit, but seen from the outside, by a human in hormonal fluctuation, it was mostly accurate. Just leaving out huge chunks of boring incidentals that made the family history. My family history. I waited and watched the newcomer as Lunar left.

Esoteric Ailments in Possible Neophyte Shapeshifters

2009-07-15T12:41:00.000-07:00

At least it was not rabies. Even with what I have learned at the Infirmary, that is a blessing.

Though he has not shown any tendencies to the clan side of his background, my mentors were afraid what he might have gotten in that bite. He might only have the empathic resonances, which would be a good thing - he needs to learn control though. The library is extensive, but with as many planes as the clans travel, we cannot be experts on everything. What we have is likely as much medical knowledge Sheriff Ortegavich has of the condition, but honestly, it it likely to be less.

On the other hand, he has not had any accompanying infections, and the stability of form has not been breached. Wolfgang is going through the normal changes human children go through, which includes increased hirsuteness, and some personality changes. Some of these have accelerated, with the nocturnal wanderings, and his changes in appetite. He never much cared for vegetables before, and one expects an interest in less-processed meat as the palate matures, but usually that is also accompanied by a broadening of diet, not restriction to carnivore.

This goes without mentioning what one can see when perched in the topmost branches of a large oak tree, or when one is hovering above it.

Not Dead

2009-07-11T23:30:00.000-07:00

Though it has been close a couple of times.

I have not been able to write about losing so many family members. Being unable to save siblings, not being able to help when the battles here were at the same time as battles on clan borders...

Losing contact with a parent, when he is so far off that letters will take ages to find him, if they do at all.

Gaining a grandparent only to lose him so quickly.

Out of five parents, there is only one grandparent and one step-grandparent left... and now the business with my half-brother.

Father, I don't have experience with this sort of medicine, and neither do Mama or Vater... and Da's healing knowledge does not help as much either.

I miss you.

Checking in

2009-04-26T10:56:00.000-07:00

Dangerous, but I checked in with Vater and Papa.

Miss Genie is just not right, considering what I heard about her settlement offer.

Met with a member of the blood. Really not what I expected.

We need to find Father and cure him. That poison is not helping at all.

Zaide is going to help, and this time, I think it is the right sort of help.

Got to find Bubbe's books, now.

hiding

2009-04-23T12:46:00.000-07:00

found Koen

we are hiding

the kim chee is about to get very deep, but it will be worse if they find him

A New Realization

2008-11-13T11:30:00.000-08:00

So, after the seven-fold circle was taken down (and I hauled my mind out of my grandmother's favorite gutter) the rest of the formal introductions were made by Grand Master Grey. The one who had quizzed Auntie was Sister Victory Anne of the Sisters of Perpetual Vigilance, the exorcist we were to escort back. Then the flare I caught from Auntie when the Grand Master introduced me to Master Sorcerer Lord JohnQuetzal de Moctessuma du Mechicoe almost made me chuckle. Ooh, yes; it had been a long time since she had been home.

However, as the final ward of the circle was dismissed, there was an odd feeling, something akin to a cat rubbing against the leg, insistent that you pet them. Not threatening, particularly - except there were hundreds of them. "Hum... Auntie?"

She turned, and wore a puzzled expression at my distress, and then realization dawned. "Oh, you had better put your city wards up, dear! The members of the colleges will be curious about you, no doubt."

Sister Victory Anne nodded, "You're a bit empathic, yes? I'd suggest using your best shields before you leave the building." She held out her hand, palm up, "I can help, if you wish." I managed to keep myself from grabbing her hand as if I were drowning, it would not be polite. It was weird, her shields were like nothing I or my parents had learned, but they worked in concert with the ones I had learned from Mama, Father and Da. She gave me a little smile, and murmured, "I think I'd like to learn the styles you have been taught, if we have the time."

Good thing I had put up the battle-shields, because the next thing I knew, Grand Master Grey had tucked my other hand in the crook of his elbow, and smiled down at me. "We shall have to run the gauntlet of the curious to reach the office, and from there, a carriage to the townhouse," and he nodded for the arms-men to open the doors. "They will have a short gawk, and you might sense some nebulous fears in the lower classes, but I do not think there should be any direct attacks this early."

The crowd outside was expectant, the tone of the sonorous murmuring much like a sedate church social or a garden party. Grand Master Grey paused on on the top step, ostensibly to allow our group to assemble in order, but he covertly scanned the crowd and nodded, before we descended the steps. He did not raise his voice above a conversational level, saying as we stepped from the stoop to the flagstones of the plaza, "How wonderful that the students are all so far ahead in their studies to make a fair-weather day a midweek festival." I chuckled softly as the crowd seemed to melt away, and not just the students, but everyone who had assembled there. He had made sure we paused long enough for everyone there got a good look at me, and saw that I was flanked by himself and the Sister. The man had a good eye for crowd control and rumor management. It also made me appreciate why Auntie had made me change into my dress uniform.

Really dense of me, I know, but I thought we would be in and out in an hour or so. Now I was not so sure. I hadn't thought that we would be greeted by such curiosity, but that's what living in Steelhead had taught me. Everyone has a story, if it is fantastic or not, and you might eventually learn it if you are patient. This quiet assembly was a blessing; it showed me that yes, a gestalt of human/demon/construct/guardian spirit just might be considered just a bit odd in some places. I also realized that it was a gift to have this revelation without the torches and pitchforks, which might have occasioned an incident that would be considered a detriment to diplomatic relations. Personally, I was glad to avoid anything like that, because that would have meant I wouldn't be asked back for any New Year celebrations. I did want to be able to return, my aunt's strange attitudes towards formal cuisine aside.

By the position of the sun, I guessed the hour to be mid morning, just at the start of the business day by local custom, though Mama would have likely been at her desk hours already. As we crossed the campus, we were paced by students and professors, ostensibly on their way to classes or studies, but the curiosities pressed in on my armor. There was one sharp shove to my shields, and the Grand Master glared in the direction of the push, at the gentleman in decidedly religious robes. I murmured, "So, am I an adequate bird-dog, sir?"

We passed under a portico to the grand entrance of the building I hoped was our destination, and he chuckled. "Not my intention, but it does bring out the snakes. Ah, here we are..." and he led us into the library on the ground floor. Everyone settled, and I counted myself lucky to find a backless chair available when invited to sit. The Grand Master then addressed Auntie, "Now, Master Sorcerer Lady Kitlalmina - your reports have been exceedingly interesting, when they arrive, but that does not tell us why you need the services of an exorcist specifically from the Order. Please elucidate."

Auntie winced at the oblique chastisement concerning the frequency of her reports, but her answer to the last order was clear and firm. "Sir, I have landed in a nest of those whose curiosity is boundless. Whether they be clerics, scientists, law-keepers or practitioners from other disciplines, they are all the most inquisitive magicians in their fields." She thought a moment more, and commented, "In all honesty, they are a pride of cats,rushing to discover what that thing over there might be." Then she muttered, "And much like cats, herding them in the direction you wish them to go is nigh impossible alone."

Sister Victory Anne nodded, "This explains much. Not nearly enough, but it is a start. Please continue."

Calling on London

2008-11-07T06:52:00.000-08:00

Looking back on that week (Was it just months ago? It seems to have been ages gone, now) I found myself pondering theoretical issues. For instance: someone, somewhere MUST have done a study on the intimidation factor of a nun in full habit. That was my first thought on seeing her. I had no idea who she was, and yet, I felt myself stand at attention when she entered the building where the customs and containment circle was placed. Why did I have a sense of *eep, straighten up and hope she does not have a ruler*, I have no idea, as none of my parents attended parochial schools, but then again, in Steelhead, the nuns are only outgunned by Manager Madame Tensai.

The sergeant in charge apparently knew her on sight, and accorded her deference. Now that they were no longer in shadow, I was surprised to note the sergeant was younger than I had supposed, as his aura was one of a multiple-war veteran. But of course, the history here is not the same, and I suspect that he had scars unseen to others. Armsman Git, on the other hand, fit my mental image of him, based on his voice and presence. If he had been of legal age to vote, I would be surprised. He wavered between guarding the Sister and running for reinforcements. I think the Sister was not impressed by him either.

The sergeant spoke, "Sister, thank you for coming quickly, I know the Master Sorceress by sight but not Sight."

I eyebrowed a question to Auntie, and was unsettled to find she was surprised by the statement as well. The Sister smiled, and asked, "Lady Kitlalmina, what was the third course of the last dinner party you hosted at the country house?"

Auntie frowned and muttered, "She would poke at that one." Then she answered in a clear voice, "I served Robalito al Pastor con Salsa Verde Aspic."

I translated the title silently, and then responded, "Fish tacos and salsa gelatine? Auntie, euu."

She rolled her eyes at me, and muttered, "I expect that sort of response from Wolfgang, not someone who knows better, Ama."

The sister was taken aback, "...wait, 'Auntie'? I have met your brothers, and none of them have children of this age... or appearance."

"Ah..." Auntie Kitla shrugged, "I was adopted by one of the soldiers as a little sister when my initial transport dropped me in the midst of their patrol. I was lucky that the initial equation was only off by one-one-thousandth, and put the landing point amongst friendly forces."

She made no move to dismiss the circle, and gave no outward sign of impatience, but there was an undercurrent to reel us in or cut us loose quickly. "Yes, I had heard about the leftenant, but not that he had children."

Well, of course they have intelligence dossiers on us, same as we do on them! I took a chance that I was reading her correctly and answered in the stilted version of the Aztecque language I knew, "I am a recent development, one that would require several hours of metaphysical theoretical discussion and/or much alcohol to explain." I did not mention that Papa had been promoted to Captain, that could wait.

"One generally requires the other," the Sister answered in a reasonable approximation of Lingua Europa. She continued in the English of the locale, "Though she is a puzzle, there are no malign influences here. I will begin the process, Sergeant."

The door behind her opened again before she could do more than raise her hand, and two more figures arrived. By the sergeant's reaction and change of posture, they were upper management, and ones that he respected. Once they were past the dazzle of the doorway, I recognized the younger one from the miniature Auntie kept on her desk - though I had not been introduced, and had not been given permission to call him "Uncle" yet. As for the other, I caught the shift in Auntie's posture and managed to bow at the same time she curtsied to the Elder.

"It is an honor Grand Master," Auntie Kitla said, and continued, "May I present the daughter of my adopted brother of Europa, Amarantis of Clan Belfire?"

I bowed again, saying it was an honor to meet him. It was, actually - Grand Master Sir Lyon Gandolphus Grey was noted to be an intelligent man, and a very organized practitioner, both qualities that would appeal to the members of my clan. The fact that he was a tall, elegantly handsome man with a few scars to show he was not afraid of hard travel only made him more appealing. Grandmother had also categorized him as "delicious", a description I REALLY DID NOT NEED TO REMEMBER right this moment.

The Colonel's Lady an' Judy O'Grady

2008-10-03T10:37:00.000-07:00

The Port Novem crew were settling in, and Gematria (it would grind her gears to be called Aunt Sis, for some reason) was totaling our troop strength, when a Mage, a diplomat and a nun walk into the bar....

Right, time to back-track a bit. So – I got the call from Mama about a month before that I might be needed for a diplomatic pick up, and by the way had I managed a human form yet?

Now, Mama is not one to worry about visual appearances so much as social appearances, so I was understandably curious. I reported to the main office in Kitti, then Steelhead and Antiquity, and eventually found her behind the bar at der Hut.

“All right, why here? For that matter, why not send the address, or why didn’t you just tell me?”

Her eyes flickered to the street, and then she murmured, “This is not exactly an official request, since it is for family, but I do not wish to cause an incident by sending someone unsuitable. You are suitable for the mission, if visually distinctive.”

I put my elbows on the bar and my head in my hands, “Could you, for once in my life, give a straight answer?”

Mama said, “I need you to help escort a nun in a transport across dimensional planes.”

I stared at the bar top a few moments, and sighed, “You know, the frightening part is that - for those that know you – that statement was entirely comprehensible.” Sitting up and looking her in the eye, “Which members of the Steelhead SWAT need to get to the clan house?”

“Wrong direction, dear; you will get the co-ordinates for pick-up from your Aunt Kitla.”

I shook my head, “Right, I am still asleep in the boathouse and Wolfgang had released hallucinogens in the parlor again.”

“No, your reflexes are better than mine, and you will need an exorcist in the next day or so,” her eyes flashed momentarily, and she continued as if she had not paused, “…sooner than later. Go to your Aunt Kitla; tell her what I have told you, and what you and Gematria have been gathering.” She handed me an unsealed envelope, “This is what we can release from the office and from Uncle Nico for the background on what is possibly going to happen. No foresight, just extrapolation of existing data.” Mama then went back to polishing the bar, and smiled pleasantly, “Have a nice trip dear, and let me know when you get back.”

Her change to a chirpy tone had coincided with a flicker of movement down the street, and Herr Greegor entered as I left. I took a chance at finding Auntie at home and slid back to Harborside.

Auntie Kitla was in full rig when I got there, and still making arrangements for transport in her front hall. I nodded to the boys on the stairs, who were watching in varied states of study. With barely a glance at me she asked, “Do you have a more formal uniform?”

I eye-rolled and responded, “Back in a minute.” Good thing Lowenstein Station is just across the street, and most of my things were still there. Turned out and pressed for inspection takes only a short while if everything is ready, and Mama had apparently seen to it that my gear was taken care of as soon as I left the room. Then again, maybe it was not Mama at all, so I left a bowl of milk beside my duty boots, just in case.

Back at Auntie K’s tree house, I snapped to at the door (there not being much floor space left by the glowing sphere of equations in her parlor) and waited for her to acknowledge me. With a flick of her hand, she opened a door in the wards for me, and said, “There is a handy landing point, but I warn you, it is in a maximum security circle. We may need to wait for the sister to be brought to us.” I joined her on the spot she indicated, and in the studies I had gotten so far from Great-Uncle Nico, the 'Cubi would have called it the wingman spot - one pace behind and one pace to the right of the point. This was the position that would give me the best aim for a 200 degree angle to the front and side of us. I had unconsciously settled into the ready stance, and she brought this to my attention by saying "Respectful watchfulness, please."

I adjusted my posture as she finalized the equations, and suddenly the warm woods of the sunny parlor were replaced by grey cheerless stone, the circle there blazed to life as hers faded. Auntie Kitla's posture stiffened as the new circle flared to what seemed to be unusual strength, and a gravelly voice reached us from the shadows beyond the glowing runes, "Greetings, Master Sorceress; please wait while your escort arrives."

"What is the meaning of this, Sergeant?" Auntie's voice was cool, but there was a sharp undertone. I was about to suggest I wait there while she attended to business, when the voice spoke again.

"New procedures, Lady Kitlalmina. Please wait while..."

A new voice interrupted in a hiss, "We can't let him come in here with *THAT* in the circle!"

I shifted, and Auntie turned her head to quirk an eyebrow at me. In the complex and elegant language of the supercilium, she let me know we had encountered Goodman Rookie Armsman Git. I let my posture settle into Papa's spinal memories, and assumed the air of a veteran. It was perhaps a bit presumptuous, but not entirely wrong. I muttered in Europan, "If I am reading the circle right, I am not sure if I should be insulted or complimented." Auntie chuckled, just as the door opened and allowed sunlight to pour in, haloing a dark figure.

Damn, I’m tired….

2008-09-19T10:58:00.000-07:00

The initial waves of refugees have been taken care of, and good numbers have gone to live with their sept clans, when they were known. Not many were left in Erebus that became the Belfire clan in Steelhead, considering Zcernoboch’s children left en masse after the schism, but there were some who had no clan affiliation. We do tend to collect strays, and the crèche teachers are overjoyed to have new stories to trade. We will have to see how well they assimilate, Great-Uncle Nico is worried the egalitarian society might not sit well with some of the nobility.

I have not been able to find a place to rest since the incident. I gave up my dormitory space to my roommate’s distant cousins, thinking I could kip at the Station in Harborside. However, the place has been really noisy since Uncle Augustus got back, and Auntie Kitla is renting out her spare rooms to the Baron’s clone-brother. Wolfgang managed to find space with them, as did the rest of the boys in the school, and the Jaegers have secured some of the oddest bivouacs until the barracks are finished.

I headed to the boathouse, as the swearing from the building platform told me the lab would also be a bad idea. I found it deserted, as Uncle is out wandering again, and there was a thick layer of dust in Ash’s room. I’ll offer to help him clean it when he gets back, and set up a generator battery array, but until then, I decided to make use of the settee.

Consanguinity

2008-09-02T10:51:00.000-07:00

Novem was a good idea to regroup, and take stock. While Gematria and Qli compared notes, I managed to send a note home to Grandmamma. It was the only way to get the news to Great-Uncle Nico without this becoming official, but I needed more ammo. We were waiting for – something, I did not know exactly what, but there was the tug of an approaching family member. The battle fatigue had masked the shock enough that it took me some moments to realize why I felt so unsettled.

The others knew immediately - the Founder had fallen. I’m a little dense sometimes, but by the time Koen arrived, I caught on to the next step. Before they had even figured out I was in the line, I knew I could not take the burden. I don’t even have the stability to shift to a human form yet – altered or not. There was no way I could provide the anchor against what was coming.

Koen left for Steelhead distracting the others just in time for the box of supplies to appear at my elbow. Aunt Sis turned just in time to see the 30.06 and the second box of rounds to appear. She didn’t say anything as I packed the speed loaders with Blessed Lead, Cold Iron, Blessed Salt and Wood Trine rounds, and secured the rest of the gear.

When everything was in the proper places, she asked in a sardonic undertone, “What, no Blessed Silver?”

I shrugged, “Some of the family have not held silver in the past three years. But that is a tale for the deep winter freeze-up, if…” I stopped and said more firmly, “WHEN we get there.”

Analysis and Regrouping

2008-08-29T08:36:00.000-07:00

Something in her tone made me suspend my preliminary assessment of the damage to peri. I looked up at Gem, saw the tear-tracks, and paused in my repairs. Tactics aside, she needed to be active - and helping, not helpless. [Don’t apologize to us for helping family, Aunt Sis,] I said as I dabbed at her eyes with a clean bit of my work rag. [There’s a lot of similarities between both clans – the schism isn’t that deep in some places.]

Birdie chimed in, [God's Little Fish in Trousers, girl! We never said we would not help!]

[You just forgot to count all of the family available] Uncle Gus had finally stopped making disgusted noises about the taste of Oni. [The problem here seems to be that except for the niece, we have all been solitary warriors. You have the body, Gem - and therefore the con.]

I could feel her metaphysical head-tilt at Uncle's turn of phrase, but she continued, [About time we got that straightened out] Her psyche seemed to be better grounded than what Father had described from their last encounter. [Right then - Ama, can you get us to the Midas?]

I shrugged as I cleaned the last of the blood-tears from her face. [It will be easier if Father and Ash are together, and those of us who can sense them link the other end of the slide. I have limited linking with Ash, since he was in range when I was coalesced, and of course, the link to Father] I hesitated to mention the other one on board, but she needed to know. [I don't know if this has any bearing, but I... think we need to remove the one relate to Father. There's a hole in his heart where the rain gets in... and even though he may be technically family, there is something about that one that gives me the oddest foreboding] I started to wind her key again.

[We may still have to fight her to let her get away with the synthetic] Once her key was wound to operating parameters, she spoke in her "tea party" voice, the one she had used to address peri after the fight. "I am curious as to the nature of your mechanical abilities in relation to the rest of the family."

"You mean why I say I'm not a Spark?" I chuckled, "I am not quite normal, so we don't know the rules as applied to inheritance of abilities." Carefully adjusting the clockworks of our rescuer, I commented, "The assumption is not your fault - if I am a Spark, I haven’t had a breakthrough, or rather, I have not had one to my knowledge." Gentle pressure on the mainspring, allowing the temperature of the metal to equalize, "…and I understand about the synthetic. It wasn’t as if we were trying to recreate a fine vintage, more like using a middling-yet-hopefully-drinkable wine as the basis for a medicinal tincture – not the same application, but hopefully a substitute to bridge the gap between… my analogy is breaking down, sorry."

She rummaged in the toolbox for the pliers, "I believe I understand, and from the grumblings of the one inside, I understand he is a bit of a gourmet?"

I handed her my needle-nosed pliers, and chuckled, "The memories I have mark him as a gourmand in some centuries, but before he was shoved into the attaché's office, he had been a student of the new epicurean schools cropping up here and there."

"Ah, yes - that would explain it..." She frowned at the replacement leaf spring, shrugged, and installed it. "We need to make sure she does not strain herself," she muttered. "Why switch out the synthetics, though?"

"I don't know how much of a biologist Dr Steel is, but I did not want to risk him being able to synthesize demi-humans from the sample. If he is strictly a mechanic, why does he want it, anyway?"

She shrugged, and after she replaced the timing gear, she closed the panel on peri's back and straightened the pinafore. "So, we can get to them, and we need to stop Marcus," she said in a tone more suited to plans for going to the opera. "Do you see any other issues to address?"

"Not at the moment," I said, packing away the emergency kit and noting I was going to have to add some pieces if I was going to repair Dolls on a regular basis. "Let's get the site cleared before winding her; if we have to run, I don't want to leave anything her for another to trace... besides, we've been littering enough," I nodded towards the burning heap.

Zen and the Art of Doll Maintenance

2008-08-26T08:47:00.000-07:00

Save for the merry crackling of starched linen and lace and the sizzling of dissipating vampiric flesh, there was just the sound of the winds off the sea. No wonder, the battle had scared off the game, but I also did not hear anything to indicate another wave of attackers on the way. I sat heavily on a rock between the inactive Dolls.

“Damnit, Gem – I’m a doctor, not a Spark,” I muttered as I shook and preened all over to rid myself of the last lingering bits of dainty ogre, and a thought struck me. Chance and one parent could make a biological child a Spark, and I had three out of five parents with it. (Don’t tell her, unless you have time for an entertaining lecture - you’ll just get a long-winded explanation why she is not a Spark.) However, if I was going to try to repair the new one, I would need someone to watch my back. This was unsecured territory and I sure as anything wasn’t going to haul a metal merc around until I got back to the home labs.

Gently placing a forefinger on Aunt Sis’s forehead, I attempted a link. He was ranting, and I could just catch the aggrieved tone. [GAAAAH, you’re presented with vintage vitae, and you go for the Gauxa împutita?] Uncle was in a high dudgeon, ranting in fine gourmet style.

Aunt Birdie was a bit more sensible, [It is what she needs now, it will keep her going longer, and she still has the stuff the children brewed up. Waste not, want not.]

[THERE ARE TOO MANY PEOPLE IN THIS HEAD!] Gematria bellowed, and then in the following silence, giggled a bit.

[I need someone to stand watch while I take care of the repairs. Do you have any damage that would preclude me winding you back up?]

The immediate response was [NO!] in three-part harmony. [Don’t do it just yet] Aunt Birdie continued.

[If I am active when you finish the repairs, peri will expect me to fight her for the Bloodwine. I need her to be able to take off with it without suspicion] Gematria explained.

Uncle Gus added [We can watch, and give warning, without being active. Just switch out the vial of your mother’s vintage for one of the other staff members, one of the human ones.]

Aunt Sis was aghast [you gave me what?]

“Well, duh – you’re family,” I muttered as I fished about in my kit for another vial and the wax to seal it. Out of the staff, there were actually very few that were not uncanny in one way or another. I ended up selecting the donation from Herr Messerschmitt, because though he may be a Spark, he had the least number of issues in his background; his only oddity was that he was Irish-Europan. I just hoped I hadn’t missed him being a distant relative of the Sidhe Court.

Tucking the vial from Mama into Aunt Sis’s other boot, I heard [We’re clear for two klicks, little one] from Aunt Birdie, and got to work on peri.

A lovely day for a picnic.

2008-08-21T08:53:00.000-07:00

“Who are you?”

I blinked, and realized that *I* had not met her yet. My parents had all met her in one way or another, but she did not know me. “I am Amarantis.” Her key seemed to be moving at a slower pace, but I did not move toward her just yet. The sound of clicking gears, and a small twitch of an eye accompanied her next statement.

“You will meet the Founder in the future.”

I shrugged, “I may, I may not – the universe is a cats-cradle of possibilities. There are several future threads where we might meet.” I put the bottle in her hand and slid down to her level to wind her key.

She sniffed suspiciously at the brew, asking, “…and what is this compound supposed to do?”

“It is a first attempt at recreating something we do not have at hand, yet.” I sighed, and continued "Uncle said you might be thirsty soon, and we tried to brew up a substitute." From her reaction, I guessed we were not quite successful the first time out.

Gematria sniffed it cautiously... until the snapping of bowstrings caught our attention, sending us both diving for cover! I rolled around a boulder to get a clear shot with my sidearm, at the… ogre-sized Lolicon ninjitsu warriors charging up the hill? “’da’ell are those things?!?!?”

Aunt Sis crouched behind her own boulder and aimed her rocket launcher. "Loli-Oni! Aleister must be desperate!"

“Framitz! Soft points?” They looked like Dolls, but considering the havoc the ladies had wreaked on the demon ship, that was a designation to be feared.

“Tea sandwiches? Shopping?” Gem took out the leader with a shot to the chest, the explosion causing the others to hiss as they bared their fangs. "Oh, vampiric Loli Oni..." she commented, as the twitching limbs of the first struck the ground, and then continued to advance on us.

I was armed for stealth, not a frontal assault, but at least I had some ammo for the job at hand. "I hope blessed lead will work, I'm not carrying the Wood Trine rounds this trip." I aimed for the center of the chest for a lack of a better target.

Aunt Sis made a gesture, and the lead self-immolated on contact. "Naphtha rounds work quite well against the undead, I find."

"Beat ‘em an’ burn ‘em - Whatever works on this plane." I aimed for heart and eye-socket groupings on the next in line.

The Loli-Oni advanced in spite of their losses. As the last few closed the distance, Gematria sliced the bo stick of another assailant in two with her hook, then cut her legs from under her. I holstered and reverted to talons for hand-to-hand. Throwing an assailant three times my mass was made marginally easier, by the fact I was just tripping them and rolling them down the hill into the burning corpses of their company. Aunt Sis was winding down, and my dodging was curtailed as one of them caught hold of my wing. The pain caused by her crushing grip was immense, then suddenly it stopped, and I was covered in dainty little Loli-Oni bits.

Through the haze of the receding pain, I heard, "May this one be of assistance?"

Winterfell

2008-08-15T08:49:00.000-07:00

Lying on the backside of the ridge, watching the grounds through the spyglass I filched from the Scout stores in the office, I scanned the manor house. For Winterfell, it was within normal limits: gothic, foreboding, and just slightly off-putting, unless you were a neighbor and used to the architectural style. Mama’s bar and the Novem sisters’ place had some of the same darkness about them, but with a sense of camaraderie that said, “nah, don’t worry, we won’t tell.” This house told me to worry.

The demonic cruise ship had lifted to what might have been the maximum altitude for the human-built airships. Demons and Dolls might not need to breathe, but I had the feeling Father was on board, and Ash as well, so at least I wasn’t in the deepest trouble I could be. Bad enough we were spread thin during the full moon, but at least Wolfgang was at the Kittiwickshire office this week, which would take some of the pressure off the Steelhead contingent. There was another there that was similar to Father, but… less. Not exactly diluted, but not as whole, missing parts of the spectrum found in Father’s life-spark.

Sensing the ship, there were fewer life-sparks on board than the usual compliment for one of that class and displacement. Even if they were reduced to patrol ship status, there should be more crew. An explanation why so few were aboard tumbled from a hatch on the underside of the ship and hit the escarpment a few meters down slope from me. The body was drained of ichors to the point it crunched without the usual splatter effect of High-Altitude-NO-Opening parachute drops. If they kept that up, the ship was not going to be able to function.

Not that I expected the dolls to keep the ship after taking the house. Whatever happened in the grounds of the manor house, it needed to be quick, quiet and neat. The less distress to the neighbors the better. Who knows what the Senechal would do about an attack on a resident, considering the security measures many of the citizens here found necessary.

Something was scrabbling up the loose shale of the ridge behind me, a low growling vocalization accompanying a faint warning, [‘ware, niece!] He said more, but the range from his body to hers, and then to another made the transmission faint.

Mama’s maxim of “Prepare for the worst and hope for the best” is a good policy. The research Wolfgang and his team of students conducted in Steelhead meant they found the source of the water-borne contaminants, the former basements and sub-basements of the Foundation. Although much diluted, the water contained the trace elements of the reanimation serum and the entirety of the Mason wine cellars. What we had prepared in the lab included the amendments from the water, ordinary pomegranate wine (not that Aunt Kitla’s oenology skills were ordinary), and blood.

Standard operating procedures for any Consulate office included the medical care of the staff. All organic staff members were encouraged, with some urgency, to donate blood regularly, unless they were medically unable to do so. However, blood has a relatively short shelf life compared to most other compounds in the infirmary. It would be a shame to waste it.

I felt a hand grip my boot as I reached into the ice chest beside me, and opened one of the bottles with my thumb. “Hey, Aunt Sis - here, drink this, iz goot.” She paused, perhaps confused by my address, the accidental accent, or the scent of the drink being not quite right, and my unsuitable sense of humor bubbled to the surface. “Oh, don’t look at me in that tone of voice. Yes, it is Mama’s, and yes, she was at Cambridge for a year, but it’s been over two decades and she still hasn’t shown any evidence of Mad Herring Disease.”

Running on Fumes

2008-08-12T09:59:00.000-07:00

There was little to repair on the jet pack, but I replaced the seals anyway, considering the abuse they had received at Aunt Sis’s hand. Ash was not about, but the crew arrived in the office upstairs just as I was finishing up.

“…and no, we did not ‘hose you off in back of the office’, Darien. Honestly, I begin to think your gift for hyperbole is intrinsic in your nature…” Seems Father had ticked off Mama, finally. Her patience is not infinite, but considering the length of time the ferry train takes, he had apparently been working on her last nerve the entire time for her to use that tone. She might actually try to ground him if he kept that up, so I logged Father’s jet pack into the Personal Flight Apparatus racks.

Mama stopped by the garage as the others were settling into the hydrodynamics lab. “Do you think you have time to check in on Augustus? Birdie is determined to take care of him herself, but she might need some instructions on wing care.”

“Surely, I need to see if there are any residual issues with his going walkabout for so long.” I picked up my healer’s satchel, when Mama’s next statement stopped me cold.

“He is still projecting, and is unable to get back. You might need to help your Aunt with long term care.”

That was enough for me to skip the ferry train and slide directly to the Station. I landed on the front stoop, and called out a warning to those inside, “Hallo the house! Medical assistance coming in!” Not that either one would be embarrassed by the entrance of another while they were intimate. Considering the sergeant’s nerves might be stretched thin, her defensive reflexes might be heightened, and she was a good shot with throwing knives.

I found them in the bath, with the faintest traces of kerosene coming from the pile of towels in the corner. Father apparently left in a hurry. Birdie had stripped Uncle Gus out of his clothes, which seemed not too bad for the wearing of three days, but the shirt had been shredded by his wings when he reverted. Birdie had cradled him in her lap in the bath, draping his wings over the edge as she carefully rinsed the lather from his back. “Hy haven’t done hiz wingz, yet. What do Hy need to do?”

“Just be gentle with them, and listen for anything that tells you to stop.” While I helped her work around the control surfaces and the membranes, I took the opportunity to check on Uncle Gus. He was still walkabout, but the astral cord tying his spirit to his body was stronger than what I had been led to believe from my studies. [Ready to come home?]

His answer was immediate, [No, still too much work to do here. I have to free her from the controls, but I have to go carefully, so as not to damage her further.]

[At least now you are not trying to do it alone.] Birdie’s accent did not show up in her projections, which gave me pause. I filed that tidbit away for later study.

I turned my mind back to the current problem. [Understood – anything we can do to help?]

[I need you to take some notes, and check on my memories of the references in the library…] Uncle started detailing what he had found so far in his observations, and set out his conjectures. I took notes sitting on the edge of the tub, ignoring what Aunt Birdie was doing. [… and that is about it. I do not recall if I had run across the chemical composition of the vintages she has been drinking.]

[I have them, but I’ll check the libraries jut to be sure.] I packed away my notes, and pulled dry towels from the press. “We should get him out of the tub before you fall asleep, Aunt Birdie.”

She startled, “Hy’m avake!” but subsided when she realized Uncle had slipped off her shoulder. Between the two of us, it was not too difficult to get everyone dry, and the two of them tucked into bed. She had been running on nerves for the past month, and even the Jaegerkin had their limits.

I took a few moments to clean the bath and took the towels outside to dry, when I noticed movement in the trees off the property. Someone who did not have sufficient woods training, out wandering? No, the movement was more furtive than that. I warded the grounds, and resolved to let the sheriff know the next time I got into town.

Back at the main office, everyone had gone to sleep, save one. Father had found the library, and the copies of the Foundation Chronicles the staff had collected soon after arriving. Standard operating procedure for a new territory or ally – find out what they hold important enough to write down. Father seemed to be taking notes, which would be odd, since he wrote most of them. Then I realized he had the same memory issues I had. After all, a fifth of my long-term memory came from him. I would have to compare notes with him later, to see if there were deviations from my point of origin.

I left a note for Mama on the message board in the common room, and left to catch up on my studies.

Mentor Ibiz found me asleep in the library, my head pillowed on reference materials that had nothing to do with the research paper he had assigned. Luckily, I had finished it before diving into the questions Uncle Gus had asked. His chuckle woke me, as he finished writing his comments on my paper.“I should have known it was not necessary to give you assignments. You have the basics down.” He put down my paper and tapped the copy of the Al-Aziza Biological Guide, commenting, “This avenue of independent research puzzles me, though.”

I rubbed my face, trying to wake sufficiently to make sense, “There is a problem in the family, and I needed to get more information on underworld substance addiction disorders.”

He blinked at me twice, and then said, “I wish you were joking, but I have kept up with the tangles that seem to attract Aoefe’s branch of the family. Your aunt had to be moved to another room with better filters,” I started to get up, but he stopped me with a hand on my satchel. “No, it is all right, she is stable for now. I am afraid she is the one in the least trouble at the moment. We haven’t had much contact with the Court since the Council split off, but we have had some come to us as outcasts, asking for asylum. It is not a perfect solution, but I do think we can help your clockwork cousin, if she will accept the assistance.”

Flight or Fight

2008-07-30T12:58:00.000-07:00

The family reunion, while charming and informative, did not get us closer to Gematria. I had vertigo by the end, though. My long term memories are from my parents – I was constructed from their emotional distress and copies of their psyches (no, I am not totally sane, thanks for asking) with copies of their memories at the time I coalesced. So I have pieces of Father’s memories that no longer exist in the current history.

I have been recording what I remember from them as much as I can, but I needed a break, and took off for the skies above my current roost. Uncle gave me house-room; I think mostly to help him keep an eye on the place. Most of us in the Station at Harborside are transients, what with Uncle’s usual pattern of commuting back and forth between Uncle Nico’s office and here, and Grandmamma and Uncle Nico kip here when they visit. Wolfie is supposed to go back to school mid-August, but he may end up having space at the dorms here, with Rennie. The airspace here feels comfortable, even with the flying fish.

I generally patrol the area at least once a day when I am here, partly for the exercise and also because I have too many protectors in my background to not keep an eye on things. So, after checking on the chickens at Da’s place, and taking a quick loop though the south district, I was dropping lower to check on the city plaza, when I saw the odd sight of Father running – not flying – hell-for-leather to the office.

I landed in front to the door, just in time for him to run up with the warning “Mybrotheriscomintodestroythefamily!”

“Nobody is in the office today, and besides, you don’t have a brother!”

He stood panting, which, with the kerosene fumes, surely was not doing him any good. “Memory wiped – Jeremiah – clone brother…” he wheezed.

Ugh, that horrendous elder Mason keeps causing problems, no matter how many times you squish him. “We need to report in,” I said, grabbing his collar and pulling him sideways between planes to the Station.

Immediately as we came out of the void between, I heard Mama mutter behind us, “To think - he actually had calmed down as an adult.” She pulled the rocket pack off Father’s back, and handed it to me, saying, “A leak this bad indicates maintenance is in order, would you please take this down to the workshop?”

“Hey! I keep that running according to the manual! It was Gematria’s other hand!” Father explained in a rush how he came to be doused in the fuel, and when he got to the part about Gematria’s grip, Mama stripped him out of his flight jacket to check the bruises on his arm. “Ow! Stop it and listen to me! There’s a clone of me on the way to make a smoking hole of the Foundation at least and maybe the city!”

Mama nodded, and took his flight jacket and helmet. “You go clean up, and I will leave some of Wolfgang’s work clothes by the door to the bath.” She forestalled his protest with a raised hand, and continued, “I will let the Baron know when he gets here; he is on his way for another report. In the meantime, continued exposure to the petrochemical fumes will kill brain cells you will need later if you do not get out of those clothes. Besides, your flight leathers will need cleaning as soon as possible to save them. If your twin does arrive here in the next hour, there is little we can do to stop him.” She raised an eyebrow at me, and I paused, waiting until Father had shut the door to the bath.

I kept my voice low, “I’m going to take it to the workshop in Kitti, and see if I can’t find Ash.”

She nodded, “Just what I was going to request, and if Herr Baron has gotten tangled up in another information exchange gathering, could you let him know we now have more irons in the fire?”

“Hearkening and Obedience, I’m gone,” I said as I slid between to the workshop. If Ash was not there, I could at least give the equipment a quick once-over to make sure nothing got damaged when Gematria lent a hand to the situation.

Dancing in Air and Darkness

2008-07-25T09:29:00.000-07:00

Yes, I’m levitating, but only a little bit. It helps with the shoes and the sense of place.

“Marcus” is giving the appearance of having a wonderful time, but I think he is getting restless. He’s shielded enough I had to be within a couple of meters to read him, even with that spike that the dealer generated. I waited until he laughed off the old dope peddler and turned away before placing the “Police Notice You” mark on the freelance pharmacist. It is one of Mama’s favorites, and the one with the least karma load to balance out later.

We are still here hours later, still hunting for Gematria. It seems the balance for the place is off, time does not seem to mean anything to anyone here - and the music isn’t that great. I only listen because I might need to react to the play list or musical technician’s comments.

There are more family members on the way, but I can’t tell which side they are on at this range. It is no one I have met since incorporating. Ash is still on the roof across the way, and either has not seen them, or does not consider them to be a danger to the mission. Moving closer to Father, I cannot yet tell if these two are carrying the taint of the Usurper or not. Still, we might need a quick exit….

She does not enter the club, but he does, and I hang in the air, dumbfounded for a moment. He’s not supposed to be back for at least another generation, I thought. I check the buckle of my shoe to cover the pause in the dance and watch him approach “Marcus”.

He covers his surprise well, for those who can’t See. He invites me along on the outing, the first time he has acknowledged me directly since we got here, but considering the clientele, I don’t think anyone here will notice. I drop to my feet and use the twinge in my toes on landing to fuel another light shield around the two of us. At this point, the low level nervousness on the edge of my sensing could be me or Father, but it is likely just me. He grins up at me as we leave the club to meet with a pair of impossibilities.

Following the nekos through the alleys of this district, is seems to me they are in no hurry, the male chatting amicably with “Marcus”, though the female gives away her tension in the set of her ears and the twitch of her tail. We are not led through the darkest alleys, though no one here seems to care to be caught in the occasional pools of light. We were in the club for hours, yet I have not seen this place in full sun. Not that I really care to, because my night vision is adequate, though I sometimes wish my sense of smell was not so sharp. Thankfully, our guides seem to be olfactorily sensitive as well, and steer clear of the most noxious areas.

The café we finally light upon is reasonably hygienic and lit just a little brighter than a tavern or a dockside chai-house. There are a few children here, but “Marcus” stands out for having unpatched flight leathers. I hope adding the “I Am Not Your Problem” formula to the shield will be enough. He is also one of the few apparent humans in the room, and I keep a firm grip of his shoulders as the nekos lead us to a table.

In deference to my wings, they give me a backless chair, one of several about. If I wasn’t so worried about being led into a trap, I might feel comfortable here. I can get us back to the hospital if we are in danger, or if something follows us, I can get us to the clan house holding arena, but that would mean we lose the leads for this district, and even if these two are a distraction, we still have a toehold here.

Strategically, this is not a terrible spot, but Father’s curiosity might need to go unanswered if this meeting does not lead to Gematria. With Uncle's unresponsive state, there is some urgency - I have a sense of foreboding that we must find her soon.

Stalking Family

2008-07-23T11:41:00.000-07:00

Mama had an awful lot of emergency gear packed for Wolfie in that little pack – near as I can tell, it is not that far scaled down from the standard long patrol kit that the Jaegers use. Sensible gear, sensible clothes, with many surprises… I don’t like to think about the fact that it was necessary to teach Wolfie to survive the wastelands before he needed to shave, but that is a reflection of the non-Europan parts of my borrowed memories.

Luckily, most of it was gear that Father could use in his current state, except for the dissection and sampling kit. I slipped that into my pocket after seeing him avoid the surgery, but I made sure he still had basic knife safety skills before giving him the pocket tool set. He’s kitted out not much heavier than the average urchin-turned-assistant, and he says they are prevalent in the Palisades – I would not know, as I haven’t gotten all that stable shifting to human.

Thing is, this place is much more tolerant, to the point that as long as you’re still technically “dressed”, they do not care what you look like. Mama’s memories of this place were mostly good, she just stopped coming when there wasn’t a friend to invite her, and though the neighborhood is a bit rough, it's not as bad as some of the places she's been. So, while I am not completely out of place, I am still keeping back, close enough for me to keep an eye on him, but also drawing attention away from him.

I want my stompy boots, these heels are uncomfortable.

(Nonstandard Language Redacted)

2008-07-22T09:32:00.000-07:00

WHY are my parents so (nonstandard adjective with verbal modifier) determined to kill themselves for SCIENCE?

Just as well he started ranting; otherwise I might have missed it.

Vater, I’m sorry for breaking into your lab, but I needed the stasis chamber – at least I did not damage the physical structure and I reset the wards after. Never mind, you didn’t know about those. Uncle Gus, Da, or Mama, check those for me, please?

Father, if we get you through this, I may have to flay you for not having someone check your figures, and scaring my brother like that!

(Further transcript unsuitable for transmission)

Begin/Breathe/Be

2008-07-18T10:09:00.000-07:00

Awareness, fear pain, panic, desperation….

A sharp, graveled voice speaks in my mind, “GRUB! Pay attention, perimeter containment NOW!”

Frink! He’s talking to me! Okay, I can do this, lay out the runes in my head, link the equations, and ground the shields to… there is no earth-link here… oh, air and fire, of course, hand it off to the Decurii…

First link entity Mama? Moved out of striking range, covering fire by second link entities Vater? Da? Father? Calculations for escape cascading from tertiary link entity Brother? Recalculated by extended link Auntie? Target entity damaged by PAPA! NO! He’s got no helm! Dive! Have to get him before he leaves the air bubble – GOTCHA! Warning received from Uncle and Aunt/Sister/Harbinger…. My eyes cross and I drop the link search and ready for the vector change…

Immediate family links completed as extraction nearing completion. Target sealed, neutralized, and finally mercy granted – the pain did not stop, though – Squad leader senses the change, and so do I. The Founder is confirmed, the energy fluctuations blinding to those who can See.

I try to remember the string of curses the Decurii uses, they are really good ones none of my memories have heard before.

Decurii then gives a minor warning to those in the ship, the squad arranges itself in position – but I am an extra, and slide into the engine room, to monitor the others.

Mama is focused on getting everyone home safe, she does not realize I am here, or rather, I am part of the group, being made up of so many of them. Most of them follow instructions and sit tight and blind for the trip. Mama knows this path and checks the course, but Vater watches until his eyes threaten to turn inside-out, and the only other who has his eyes open cannot see for the pain and grief…

Father?

I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner.

You did everything you could; I know - I have your memories.

Don't hide, and don't bury yourself in work, please - talk to Papa and let him confirm your tactics. Talk to Vater and let him check your equations if you like. Let Da tell you about the nature of the Wheel. Talk to Mama and let her help soften the edges. Try talking to Ash instead of just giving him orders. Or maybe we could talk, sometime?

Just… don’t forget we are all family, and are there for you.

We will be coming out of the void between soon; I’ll try to find you later.