by Julian Miles | May 1, 2018 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
Dino’s at the hatch, jigging up and down like he does when he’s worried.
“Table Seventeen, the Lantoran’s getting antsy!”
I flip the trout end-over-end in the pan: “Tell the lovely cephalopod that his trout is being sautéed in ox butter and I will not hurry the process.”
“Yes, Chef.”
“Chef!”
All I’m trying to do is run the finest restaurant this side of the Tiiri Quadrant. Naturally, I’ve got time for every little problem.
“What’s up, Kai?”
“Sheila’s been sucked on!”
Oh, for pity’s sake.
“Did you make sure the Effervescent Yamdri was served to the table at over 316 Kelvin? A hungry Kroonin targets solely by temperature.”
“Sorry, Chef.”
“You’re serving the replacement. Might want to get it right. Send Sheila home.”
A hand slaps my bum: “I’m fine, Chef. That new security Benthusian is really fast. Saved my life.”
I lift the pan off the heat and look her over: torn blouse, big red mark on neck and chest, makeup runs from crying. Bright eyed, though.
“Okay, if you insist. Freshen up and put your bodysuit on. The Padrang Ambassador’s coming in.”
She grins: “Splee’s a lovely blob of polar jelly.”
I shake my head. All the invertebrates are sweet on Sheila. Her eyes are ‘rooglash’, apparently.
“Yeah, but he’s coming here at the same time as the G’k’l’roc delegation.”
Jerhn stops, serving tray poised delicately on pseudopod: “They’re Flame Nation! You never said anything. The burners aren’t lit!”
I told Kai… Never mind.
“Sheila, deliver Jerhn’s platter. Jerhn, you’re on Flame Nation and no-one takes you off until the delegation tips you handsomely and departs. Move, people!”
“The temperature conflict problem?”
Good point. Can’t be having people getting steamed. Just a minute –
“Sheila, get the crud cleared out of freezer nine except for a metal pallet, all the racking and any big carcasses. Set up a liquid nitrogen fondue in there. Ambassador Splee’s fascinated by ambience. Tell him we’re giving him a ‘Stantazen Coldship Barbeque’ experience tonight.”
“Bringing him in through the loading bay for added veracity?”
She gets it!
“Spot on.”
I’ve added fresh-chopped parsley and the trout has flipped twice before –
“Chef?”
“Yes, Kai?”
Something simple, please, oh Gods of the Culinarily Challenged.
“Got some plant thingys from Edma asking if we have tables. Was going to put ‘em on Table Thirty as it’s been empty all night, but that security octopus you hired said I should check with you first. He’s chatting with the plants so they don’t wander off.”
Give me strength.
“Kai, why do you think Table Thirty is vacant?”
“Dunno. It’s right up in the dome. Nice view. I like going up there for a toke.”
In my restaurant? Deal with it later. Doc says my blood pressure can only handle one stupid at a time.
“Kai, what are Yangru?”
“Energy forms from Yang. Invisible unless they want to be- Oh.”
“It’s the only table where they can feel the energy waves of the city.”
“Where do I put the plants, Chef?”
That’s it.
“They’re ‘fronds’! Calling an Edmari a ‘plant’ is an insult.”
“Whatever. So, where do I put the plants?”
Must remember: can’t afford the time off for a prison sentence.
“Get Jao, the Benthusian, to escort the holy fronds to Table Two.”
“That’s your break table.”
“Guess I’m not taking breaks for a while.”
“Okay.”
Am I allowed to use a bat instead of sarcasm?
The trout slides onto the platter.
“Dino! Seventeen!”
“Yes, Chef.”
Someone’s parked a shot of tequila nearby. Deep breath, down in one.
Right. Back to it. Only nine hours to go.
by Julian Miles | Apr 23, 2018 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
How did everyone miss a cabin in this Protected Nature Zone for so long? The windows are covered in ivy and the veranda is thick with brambles.
“Hya! Hya! Bellit, come now! We must away!”
The shouted sentence comes from a woman standing in the doorway, like a beacon of creamy white against the inky darkness within. Must be a companion of the elderly woman spotted earlier.
From the copse nearest the hut strides a huge bird, it’s golden beak catching the dying light. Snowy plumage shades to midnight blue at the tips of tail and stubby wings. Great legs the colour of dried blood end in wicked blue-black claws.
“I come, Yega, I come. Calm yourself.”
It speaks! I lean too far and tumble out of the tree, a frantic grab missing the only branch that might have saved me. Hitting the ground loosens the death grip I have on my phone. I watch it spin away as things fade swiftly to black.
A cool hand rests against my brow, then briefly strokes my temple. I smell mint as my head is lifted and a warm drink is pressed against my lips.
“Drink, manchild. That was a marvelous fall.” The voice is not quite husky. It makes me shiver as I swallow.
“His body knows you.”
Her chuckle is throaty. My eyes open of their own accord. Silver hair frames a face so angular it could be called inhuman, if not for the green eyes that turn it from alien to so desirable my breath catches.
My mouth moves. No words come out.
She smiles: “Chatter cheapens the moment. You’ll speak again, but never of this.”
Her eyes seem to get larger. The entrancement is broken by an enormous hooked beak appearing above her head. It cants and eyes like shiny night regard me. Whatever that is, I’m sure it’s amused.
“He’s thinking. That can get in the way.”
“I’m not a fool, Bellit. That restorative had lust and forgetting blended in.”
Snatching a look about, I see I’m in a rather traditional bedroom. Through the opening on my left, I see the traditional theme continues into the lounge. My gaze catches on the lights flickering across the oddly curved console under a window on the far side. Through the adjacent doorway, dense brambles frame my view of treetops passing smoothly, like I’m looking out the window of a train.
This? Wha-?
The sound of cloth sliding over skin brings me back to a vision that reduces me to nothing but the urge she wants.
I awake lying against a mossy trunk. A massive headache pounds behind my eyes. Stupid thing to do, falling out of a tree. Why was I up in it? Can’t remember. I’m naked! Scrabbling into a shivering crouch, I see my stuff piled against a nearby tree. Just how hard did I hit my head?
Dressing, I check my gear. The uniform is scuffed and torn, but fixable. Nothing that’ll stain. The taser is a write-off. Likewise, binoculars and phone. The memory cards are gone, too. At least I stuffed the car keys into my socks before tucking them in my boot.
I did?
Was I pranked while lying unconscious after falling out of a tree? An on-duty officer would be good sport. Hopefully, nothing shows up on social media.
By the time I trek back to the car, I know what I’ll say: I was returning to my vehicle, after thoroughly investigating the designated area, when I slipped and fell. The sighting? A hoax, most likely. Nothing to report.
by Julian Miles | Apr 16, 2018 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
He spins round, leveling a huge pistol. The pursuers halt in disarray. A breeze whips between silent vehicles, picking up litter and dust.
His enhanced eyes blaze red in the muzzle flash. A deafening report echoes as Sven backflips to land in an untidy heap. Another shot crashes. Marie bounces off a car and drops onto dirty concrete. Indicator flashes highlight the blonde streaks in her hair.
Jim jumps cleanly over a railing, his face momentarily white against the shadows before disappearing from view with a yell. The long moment of silence that follows ends with the sound of a hard landing.
“Jimmy!” Marie stretches a hand toward where her brother vanished.
“Still caring for the fool?”
A hand the span of her head rolls her over.
“He’s going to get you killed, kiddo.”
Wide eyes stare up at the supposed target. Four hours ago, Jimmy had told them a pack of lies! This isn’t some maniac fugitive. This is Hakim. They’d all been at school with Hakim. Sven had played rugby with him. Now Sven’s dead, she can’t feel her legs, and Jimmy dove off the car park in panic.
“Hi, Hakim. Long time, no see.”
He crouches by her: “Heya, kiddo. Still got the looks, I see.”
“Yeah, but I think my moves need work.”
The grin is as bright as ever: “They were fine. I have unfair advantages.”
This close, she can see the extensive enhancement work he’s had done.
He waves the monster pistol toward Sven’s body: “I shot Sven, didn’t I?”
She just nods. Breathing’s getting difficult.
“I only came back because my uncle’s shop kept getting ripped off. Guess Jimmy answered to Kala. He owned the gangers I dealt with. Just bad luck he managed to task your brother before I stuffed Mister Kala through an organ reclaimer.”
Marie doesn’t reply. He blinks, extrudes needles from his index and middle fingers, then punches them into her neck. She arches off the ground with an inhaling scream that bubbles as it tails off.
“Sorry. My bullets are laced. That should keep you going until the paramedics arrive.”
“Jimmy?” Her eyes plead with him.
Hakim sighs, then nods: “If he survived, I’ll sort him for the paramedics, too.”
Marie relaxes as the sedative takes hold. Hakim uses Sven’s sweatshirt to plug the hole he’d blown through her, then strides to the railing and hops over.
Jim’s been pressing the call button in the recessed doorway for agonised ages. One of his legs is smashed. Whoever answers can call an ambulance.
The door opens to reveal a portly man in a floral dressing gown. Jim’s about to beg for help when he realises the man isn’t looking at him.
“Best close that door, my friend. This isn’t anything to witness.”
The portly man pales, nods, and closes the door; all without even glancing at Jim.
“You set Sven and Marie on me. That’s low.”
Jim sighs and makes no sudden moves as he turns over to face Hakim.
“Thought she might make you hesitate.”
“When I’m ambushed, my optics don’t do recognising old friends. They do body dynamics and other surviving-the-moment stuff.”
“Misused my best chance. Shame. You put her down?”
“Close. She’ll be a long time in hospital. You know she made me promise to get you help if I found you alive?”
Jim laughs: “That’s my sister. Always refusing to see. Makes it too easy, sometimes.”
Hakim is suddenly right by him.
“You’ll always be her hero, in some way. Shame I didn’t find you alive.”
by Julian Miles | Apr 9, 2018 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
A savannah night is interrupted by the snarls of attacking lions. I hear screams, see flashes of weapons as wielders fall. They keep popping in. I’ve become adept at making sure they don’t leave.
While watching, my mind returns – as usual – to the afternoon I got this job: I’d been listening to a UN council vacillating when Colonel Verdi, our military liaison, threw her hands up in frustration and turned to me, the head of her security detail.
“Captain Miran, do you have an opinion?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Share it. A fresh view might help.”
“You’ll all have to excuse me for using gross simplifications of the science involved. Not my speciality, I’m afraid.” I saw smiles.
“Nine years ago, we discovered lateral dimensional travel. Minutes after that first ‘side-slip’ happened, people appeared. All over the world, where none had been moments before. Eventually, these visitors proved, to a select audience, that they were from Heasa – the Earth in the dimension ‘on our left’.
They’d been visiting us unseen for years because our reality ‘ignored’ them as they didn’t originate here and we hadn’t the science to get there. When we discovered the science, our reality incorporated the visitors in a ‘flash adjustment’.”
“We know the history, Captain.”
“Just showing where I’m coming from, ma’am. So, we soon worked out there’s a dimension ‘on our right’. The Heasans knew about it. – Seems they can view further than adjacent realities. – According to them, Euralyn hosts a global dictatorship that knows about and wants Earth. We’re safe until someone in this reality side-slips to Euralyn, letting their technologically superior, billion-strong army in. The invasion after that would likely be Heasa. That’s our real problem.”
“Why?”
“What would we do if the situation were reversed? Given how few humans know, we’d frame it as ‘only them, or them and us’. Executive action would be authorised. We’d exterminate the Heasans. Probably turn the place into a toxic wasteland as well. Just to prevent any outside chance of Euralyn scouring the ruins and finding a hint.”
“Heasa wants to work with us!”
I pointed toward the delegate who spoke: “Some do, some don’t. We’ve been contacted by Heasan groups not aligned to the main faction, and what we’ve got from correlating what they say – and what they don’t – shows a world much like ours, but with four superpowers. Two want to ally, two want to exterminate. Thankfully, their populations know about side-slipping and about Earth. Right now, their public is overwhelmingly in favour of trying to save us.”
“Your suggestions?”
“Heasan visitors remain sub rosa. We quietly embargo side-slip research and enforce it viciously. Then we work with the ‘save’ factions. As a precaution, all factions will be monitored: for obvious things like attack, but also to prevent subterfuge, disclosure or discovery of topics that could adversely affect our standing. Anything deemed undesirable will have to be neutralised by information manipulation or by those involved suffering arranged incidents, fatal or otherwise. No matter what, nothing can be attributable to us.”
There was silence. Voting screens lit. A flurry of activity culminated in Colonel Verdi turning to me and saying: “Congratulations, Major Miran. You’ll be commander of SDS – the Special Defence Service. I’ll need an initial roster to me by next Tuesday.”
That was three years ago-
Movement! Some Heasan’s risen to run for it while the lions feed on his companions.
My bullet tears through, being way overpowered for soft targets. Scavengers will obscure my handiwork.
The savannah’s beautiful. As long as we SDS do our jobs, it’ll stay that way.
by Julian Miles | Apr 2, 2018 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
Where did your rock ‘n’ roll fable go, Ella May? Did it get lost way back amongst the evergreens, or did it get too close to the railroad tracks, and go under them drivin’ wheels?
“Can I help you?”
I remember when you bought the first dress like the one you’re wearing, and it fits better now than it did back then. You were too self-conscious about it, being all gazelle with tiger eyes and a shy heart.
“Ellie. It’s me. Johnny.”
Short for ‘Dear John B. Better than the last time’.
“Johnny boy? Step into the light. My eyes don’t see so well these days.”
But they’re still beautiful, Ella May. Not that you’d ever believe me, then or now.
“Oh my lord, you do look like him, don’t you? But Johnny’s gone. He’d a been eighty-three last month. No. He’s gone, like Jack and Tommy. I did my grieving beside both Diane and Gina, not that I had any right, but-” she falls silent.
But your words, back then, made the Johnny I was take his hurtin’ anger and blaze myself a career with it. Like a shootin’ star, cold as ice and passin’ everyone by, I took myself places the old gang wouldn’t believe. Led many souls to sell themselves down at them crossroads, too. I became a veritable pied piper in an uncivil service. Even led myself astray; got well and truly lost for a while. Then, one morning, I saw a man I’d thought heartless plummet past my window, just to make sure his family got death-in-service benefit. It was like the rest of me finally woke up, I swear. That same afternoon I applied for retirement at eighty.
“It’s me, Ellie. Been a long time makin’ my way back. Never thought you’d still be here. Was expecting to start a hunt, instead I find myself lost in your eyes, again.”
Well, lordy. That wasn’t meant to meet the air.
“Your gob still spouts what your heart wants to hide, doesn’t it?”
“Only round you, Ellie. Only you.”
There’s a smile and I know where your fable went, honeychile. You still carry it inside, just like me. This world doesn’t want believers anymore, no matter who or what they believe in. People with beliefs are one insult away from being dangerous fanatics, that’s what we’re all made out to be.
“Rebel rebel, I still like your dress.”
She drops her eyes, then slowly pirouettes with her arms out, just like that night outside the Shaky Do, when I told her I’d love her forever and she told me ‘only the stars love like that’.
“I shouldn’t have told you no.”
I grin: “You didn’t. You said ‘one day’. Just wondering if I could take you up on that, having taken some time to think it over.”
We can go anywhere she wants, or I can run far. Either way, a getaway.
She smiles: “What if I said we’d need more than a day to catch up?”
“I’m free for the rest of my life.”
Now she’s not looking at me anymore. The last time I saw her eyes shadowed like that, I was on a train to the big city the very next day. C’mon, lady, not again. Don’t be cruel, Ella May.
“May be more than we need. That a problem?”
“More or less, it’s good by me. Not doing it would be the problem.”
Her eyes meet mine and it’s sixty-five years ago outside the Shaky Do.
“Only the stars and us, then, Johnny?”
“Always.”
