Rebuke

Rebuke

“Hello, sister,” Leodor said, sitting down beside Tiatha. “Have you been providing extra lessons?” With a sigh, she laid the book on her chest as she leaned away from him. “Do you object to my giving certain pupils extra attention?” “No,” Leodor said, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m simply surprised they’re willing to take on extra work from you.” Haughty laughter bubbled out of her lips as she tossed the book onto the table. “Humiliation is a wonderful motivator.” As Leodor’s lips twitched, blue illumination flared from the bookshelf. Tiatha’s chair skittered across the floor as she pointed at the swelling light. “Didn’t you tell me that your teachers were incapable of creating portals?” “No one can…” Tiatha inched closer to the expanding opening while a pale golden light wrapped around her fingers. “Then who’s forcing their way into your school?” “I don’t know.” Leodor shook his head as blue electricity crackled across his shoulders. “My wards prevent all but the most skilled from opening a way inside the grounds.” With a silent explosion, the light imploded into a swirling vortex as a lean man wielding a spear stepped through the maelstrom. His gaze swept across the library, stopping when he found Leodor and Tiatha. His lips curled into a predatory smile as he thumped the weapon against the ground as if driving in a nail. “We have a Hunter,” Tiatha said, crossing her arms as she leaned against a bookshelf. “Would you like the first strike?” “I’m surprised you haven’t dealt with him yet,” Leodor said, stepping between his sister and the intruder. “However, I’d be willing to lead our rebuttal.” “It would appear that I have located a couple of rogues.” The intruder’s spear leapt into the air, whirling over his head. “The council will smile upon me for collecting a pair of criminals.” “Counting your prizes is useless if you’re not alive to collect them.” Leodor shook his head as he thrust a slender finger toward the invader. “Why don’t you Hunters ever learn from your mistakes?” The Hunter’s laughter rebounded off the bookshelves while a bolt of electricity lanced from the whirling spear. As it raced across the room, Leodor spun out of its path, letting it collide with the stone floor behind him. While debris flew about the room, a pair of bolts erupted from Leodor’s fingertip, racing toward the Hunter...

Discovery: Adjustments

“Jarvis, order the teams to cease firing,” Cecile said, poking into the crow’s nest. After the dragon’s neck and wing vaporized, Jarvis shoved his gun at his teammate and rushed to Cecile, catching her by the shoulders. “We can’t stop using these weapons.” Cecile ripped Jarvis’s hands from her and thumped his chest. “If you keep them running at this rate, the upgrades won’t matter. They’ll blow up.” The closest gunner’s hands slipped from the cannon’s grips as he backed away. “What did you say?!” “Keep those dragons off the wall!” Jarvis spun around and lowered his voice. “I thought your upgrades fixed that problem.” “This kind of continual fire wasn’t part of my design.” She planted her hands on her hips before gripping the collar of his shirt and forcing him to look at the cannons. “Stop overusing these guns!” Jarvis pinched his nose as he shook his head. “What are the odds they’ll detonate?” “You want to risk blowing the cannons up?!” Jarvis steered the engineer against the doorframe and pitched his voice so only she could understand him. “We’re dealing with about a dozen dragons ferrying minotaurs and trolls over the walls. Our regular rifles can’t harm those beasts. Those odds matter.” Cecile kneaded her forehead and groaned. “With this kind of load, the odds of catastrophic failure rise to somewhere between ten and fifteen percent.” “Can we keep them from exploding?” Her shoulders fell as her back hit the doorframe. “Before the cannons blow up, they will start whining. As soon as you hear the whine, fire one controlled shot to bleed off the charge, then turn it off.” “That’ll prevent the weapon from detonating?” “No, but it’s the best chance to keep them intact.” “Be an extra set of ears,” Jarvis said as he urged her inside the crow’s nest. As she stumbled into the chamber, he pulled out a radio. “Fenton, how are the walls?” “The cannons are the only reason the worst hasn’t reached us.” Wincing, Jarvis tapped the device against the doorjamb. “Stop beating around the bush and spill!” “Those monsters never run out of corpses to throw at us. The moment we kill one, three more climb over the bodies.” “Roger that,” Jarvis said, kicking the wall. “Keep doing your job, and I’ll see about thinning the horde.” Jarvis shoved the radio into his belt. He marched across the room and spun Cecile away from the gunners. “How difficult will it be to adjust the cannons?” “That depends,” Cecile said as her eyes flicked toward the nearest cannon...

Transformations: Advances

Folding his hands behind his back, Lambert licked his lips as his gaze swept across each of the triumvirs. “The space docks are nearing completion, sooner than expected.” Olyver clapped, unable to hide the spark in his eyes. His head twitched toward Quinn as he smiled. “That is fantastic news, Lambert. Wouldn’t you all agree?” Quinn nodded. Caitlin leaned forward. “It changes the pressure that’s on us.” “While this took too long to reach, it’s progress. But we need more.” Olyver inched closer to the edge of his desk. “How fast can you finish the initial ship?” Lambert slouched as he rubbed his chin. After a moment, he straightened. “We should begin testing it in a year and a half, given our current pace.” “Can’t your team do any better?” Olyver asked. “We may be able to get it down to a year.” Lambert inclined his head at Quinn, his eyes lingering on the triumvir. “But that would require pulling workers, materials, and oversight away from the other projects.” “Thank you, Lambert,” Quinn said. “We’ll consider the cost before making that decision.” “What about the supplies?” Olyver asked. Before anyone could answer, he leaned closer. “Have you had any trouble ferrying them up to the docks?” Lambert’s gaze shifted to Olyver. “No, we’re getting the materials we need on time.” “Now that’s good news,” Quinn said, offering a soft nod. “Thank you,” Lambert said, bowing to them. When he rose, he turned and left the room. When the door closed, Olyver faced Quinn. “Lambert just shortened the vessel’s timeline.” “But you heard the cost,” Caitlin said as she stood and rested her arms on the back of her chair. “A year and a half gives us the ship without starving everything around it.” Olyver’s eyes narrowed. “If it were up to the two of you, every delay would be dressed up as caution.” Quinn shook his head. “Olyver, I am weary of your impatience masquerading as urgency.” “Enough,” Caitlin said. “Caitlin, relax,” Quinn said. His eyes shifted back to Olyver. “I am tired of your grief. We’re aware of what you want.” He thumped his hand against his desk as he leaned toward Olyver. “But every project we accelerate steals time, labor, or materials from something else. You understand that as well as I do. And you know that we get everything done according to its priority.” Olyver held Quinn’s stare for a moment before looking away...

Discovery: Initial Batch

“Cecile, how many plasma cannons were you able to complete?” “I completed three and a half, Jarvis.” “Oh, goodie,” Fenton said, shaking his head. “What’s the benefit of the unfinished one?” As a groan escaped Jarvis’s lips, his fingertips massaged his eyes. “Go man the wall, Fenton. Once there, order a handful of the best marksmen to the nest.” “I’ll see to it,” Fenton said, his gaze lingering on Cecile. After Fenton left, Jarvis’s attention drifted toward the screen. His finger traced a few of the hideous monsters lining the monitor. Jarvis enlarged the image and studied one of the new critters. “It looks like the beasts have diversified. We’re fortunate that Tarian’s notes contained detailed descriptions of our foes. We’ll focus on the newest monstrosities before their rampage starts.” “What are they?” “Tarian called them minotaurs.” “After all these assaults, you’d think I’d be accustomed to this.” Cecile batted Jarvis’s hands away from the screen and magnified the picture. She glanced away, biting her lip. “However, that beast appears to combine the traits of a bull and a man.” Jarvis nodded and restored the image to its regular size. “Based on Tarian’s logs, they are stronger than you might imagine. Still, that original crew didn’t have our weaponry. Your cannons should cut through those monsters.” “What should the gunners concentrate on once they’ve destroyed the minotaurs?” “Target the biggest threats, while the automated turrets handle the green-skinned menace.” With a grunt, Cecile examined the image. She pointed at another section of the screen and sighed. “I guess that means these are the secondary targets for the cannons.” “Unless something bigger emerges.” “Are you expecting a dragon to rise over that horizon?” “That’s a sample of the fanciful beasts attempting to annihilate us. The moment the marksmen arrive, drag them up to the crow’s nest.” Jarvis rushed for the exit, pulling to a halt in the doorframe as he licked his lips. “Do your cannons require a team?” “With this configuration, they do.” Jarvis hit the frame and drew in a long breath. “Given the number of creatures massing out there, I doubt Fenton could spare that many.” “I suppose we can make the weapons work with just a pair of gunners.” “I don’t care how you get the numbers. Find them and move!” “On it,” Cecile said, squeezing past him. Jarvis nodded, turned, and bolted down the corridor. He scurried to the bank of elevators and waited for one to arrive. When it dinged, he walked inside and jabbed the button for the top floor, and the car shot up the shaft. When it reached the nest, he strode out and ran to the hatches, waiting for the plasma cannons...

Whispers & Cassettes

The last time anyone had been in Aunt Lorna’s attic, disco was still king, and her brother, Sebastian’s uncle Gerald, was still alive. If Gerald were still around, he’d be sporting mismatched socks and rambling about conspiracies. But now Lorna was getting ready to sell the house, and she needed help. So she bribed her nephew with a combination of dinner, guilt, and the promise of her legendary peach cobbler. Sebastian ultimately relented since family mattered. But Jimmy only agreed because he’d misheard his friend, thinking there’d be poker. As Jimmy carried a box toward the attic door, he paused and glared at Sebastian. “It smells like a sweater died in here. A very old and musty sweater.” “You’re wearing a sweater,” Sebastian said, digging through a box, “and it looks old.” Dust motes floated like ghosts in the beams of light from the dangling bulbs. While the attic was cluttered, it wasn’t chaotic. There were carefully stacked boxes, faded furniture under white sheets, and a worn recliner that once hosted many of Gerald’s late-night rants. “That’s not the point.” Jimmy stepped around an ancient stack of National Geographics and pointed at a shoebox sitting precariously in the middle of the floor. “That looks cursed.” “Everything looks cursed to you,” Sebastian said as he wandered over to it and removed its lid. Inside the cardboard container, he found a bundle of cassette tapes wrapped in a child’s drawing. The sketch was nothing more than crayon lines forming a crooked train tunnel, with a bright red sun in one corner and two stick figures standing near the entrance. While one sported a grin, the other had Xs instead of eyes. “Creepy on its own, but the fact a kid made it? Makes it extra unnerving.” Jimmy deposited the box beside the door and sauntered back to Sebastian. “We agreed not to mess with creepy children’s artwork, remember?” “We never agreed to such a thing.” Sebastian pulled out a tape, finding a handwritten label, ‘Tunnel: Final Recording.’ “Nope,” Jimmy said, backing toward the exit. “No ‘final recordings.’ That’s like opening a video labeled Don’t Watch Me.” But Sebastian had already retrieved a dusty tape player. He blew out the speakers and slammed the tape inside before clicking the play button. A soft hiss filled the attic, then a voice, warbled with age but unmistakably childlike, replaced it. “I went in again. The tunnel’s deeper now. Mom says I’m dreaming, but she doesn’t hear it.” Jimmy pressed his back against the wall, eyes darting around the attic. “We’re listening to the eerie tape. This is how we die. Headline’s gonna read, ‘Two idiots done in by EVP.’” “Shh,” Sebastian said, narrowing his eyes. “I’m trying to listen to our doom in stereo.” “I left a drawing, so people could follow me,” the voice continued, “in case I don’t return.” A low rumble crackled through the speaker. Not static. It sounded like distant wheels on a track. “Who records a train?” Jimmy rubbed his lips and shook his head. “Was this a travel vlog?” “Someone who didn’t make it out.” Sebastian glanced at the drawing again. “These stick figures… this one appears to be waving goodbye.” “One’s got Xs instead of eyes! What kind of kid draws that?!” They sat in silence as the tape wound on...