Eloquent Tales & Blues

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...

Discovery: Negotiations

Jarvis shoved a tablet across the table, and it slid to a stop in front of the dwarf's hand. "Ferrek, while we're fresh visitors to this world, those logs suggest our ancestors were allied against the unending flood of monsters."

"I'm aware of the old tales." Ferrek's nose scrunched as his beefy fingertip poked the device. "What's this?"

Closing his eyes, Jarvis folded his hands, pressing them against his forehead. "That's rather complicated. We can discuss it another time. Let's focus on what's before us."

Ferrek lifted the pad, flipping it back and forth. With a shrug, the burly dwarf dropped the tablet to the desk and leaned into his seat. Laughter filled the small room as he pulled his weapon off the floor and a stone from his pack. He spat on the stone and placed it beside the device. "And what is it you're hoping to gain from this conversation?"

"I'm offering a reason to rebuild what was lost."

The heavy blade thudded against the wet stone, and Ferrek guided its edge along the rock. When it cleared, he flipped the ax, drawing the other side down the stone. The dwarf fell into a steady rhythm as he repeated those simple motions. "Your ancestor, Tarian, insulted our leader's honor. My people do not forget those kinds of offenses or insults."

Ferrek pulled the ax off the stone and ran his thumb across the edge. His lips curled into a smile as he laid the weapon across the table. "It's fortunate for you that time has altered our leadership, and our current king isn't as attached to the lore."

"Does that mean an alliance is possible?"

"I remember the stories my father told me about your kin. Despite being weaker, they possessed magical weapons." With the flat of the blade, Ferrek scooped the tablet up, tossing it into Jarvis's lap. His grin widened as his hand flashed to his ax, slamming it into the table. "Based on your destruction of that tree, your weapons are superior to what they wielded."

Jarvis lifted his fingers to his chin and licked his lips. "Are you suggesting that your liege will be more willing to assist us, if we supply you with some of our formidable equipment?"

Warm laughter echoed about the room as Ferrek yanked his weapon from the tabletop. "I like you."

"It's been a pleasure meeting you as well."

"You're lucky I'm a close friend of the king, and we share similar opinions on most topics." Ferrek shook his head as he pulled the weapon toward his eye and dragged his thumb across the edge. He laid the ax down and lifted the stone from the desk, wiping it off on his pants leg. As his breath rushed from his lips, the stout dwarf gestured with the stone. "Offering to assist us in our defense from the dangers in this world wouldn't hurt your cause."

With a smile, Jarvis lifted a hand. "We're having difficulty securing enough weapons to defend our encampment, but we have plenty of bodies ready to fight with you that can bolster the support of your home. Would that be an acceptable compromise?"

Ferrek laid the ax head on the ground, propping the handle against the table as he slipped the stone into his pack...

Transformations: Concessions

Olyver threw the door open and stalked towards Quinn's desk. He growled as he slammed his hands down on it. "Where's Caitlin?"

Quinn ignored Olyver's outburst as he flipped through his documents. "Does it matter, Olyver?"

He pulled a file from his coat and snarled. "We are not making progress on the draft or the ships."

"They're not ready to be completed."

Olyver slapped the papers out of Quinn's hands before throwing his stack into his fellow triumvir's chest, "We've had this drafted for a month, and we haven't ratified it."

Quinn leaned back, lifting the document. "What makes you expect it'll be approved?"

Olyver's scowl intensified as he loomed over Quinn. "We agreed—"

"No, we didn't." Quinn gathered the scattered papers around his desk. Once he retrieved the last sheet, he placed it on top of his skewed pile. He folded his hands together and glared at Olyver. "What needs to happen first is perfecting and completing the federation's charter."

"Even if I agree with that, it circles back to Caitlin's whereabouts."

The triumvir groaned and rounded his desk, encroaching into Olyver's space. "Why are you in such a rush, Olyver?"

"I'm not impatient." Olyver pushed Quinn away as his eyes narrowed. "Why are you two sandbagging this?"

Quinn shook his head before sitting on his desk's edge. He snatched Olyver's documents as he offered them to the other triumvir. "This draft is still three to five years from being implemented. You've seen the construction projections, Olyver."

"Stop using that as an excuse for dragging this agreement through your roadblocks!" Olyver shoved the papers off Quinn's desk as he retrieved his. He slammed them onto the empty space and thumped Quinn's chest. "I'm tired of you and Caitlin trying to circumvent this crucial work with that trite argument!"

"There's nothing dismissive with reality, Olyver." Quinn brushed Olyver's fingers off before he reclaimed the scattered papers. "Truth helps our cause."

"Bah," Olyver said as he stormed off to his desk. "I need to bring something more substantial to my constituents."

With his papers recovered, Quinn brandished them like a conductor's baton. "While the colonization ships have been designed, construction is still multiple years off. We cannot return to the stars until they are finished. You reviewed the same reports I did."

Olyver slammed his palm against his desk, his eyes narrowing to slits. "If you two had not dragged your heels on everything, we would've already completed the first colonization ship."

Dropping the stack down, Quinn slipped into his seat and leaned back, lifting the front legs just off the floor. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the ceiling. "If we'd spent our time with the ships, we wouldn't have flourished."

"But at what cost?"

"I will not argue this point with you again, Olyver." Quinn's chair thumped down as he slammed the documents Olyver had given him...

Discovery: Reunited

A small team of defenders grabbed rough ropes, marching away from the wall. With each step, the guards dragged the heavy boulder across the ground, creating an exit in the settlement’s barrier. When the slab struck the reinforced section, Fenton waved his squadron forward. As the last member walked through the opening, Fenton took a deep breath and signaled another squad to close the gap. With a groan, the massive stone screeched as the rock slid into place, while Fenton stepped through the shrinking portal.

He rested the stock of his rifle on the ground as his gaze drifted among the members of his unit. Once he finished the tally, he lifted his weapon to his shoulder and rubbed his chin. “Does everyone understand what Jarvis tasked us to do?”

Alek raised a finger and pitched his voice. “We’re searching for food, fuel, and friends, and not necessarily in that order.”

“Despite our friend’s attitude, he’s not wrong.” Fenton stepped beside the flippant man and swatted the back of Alek’s head. Fenton pointed at the treeline and licked his lips. “Keep your eyes peeled for anything that might prove useful or dangerous.”

When the radio attached to Fenton’s hip chirped, he groaned and pulled it off his belt. “Jarvis, talk to me.”

“Have you reached the trees yet?”

The leader whirled around and kicked the stone barrier. “Are you in the crow’s nest?”

“Yes.”

Fenton dragged his fingernails down his face, swallowing a stream of curses. When his voice died, he looked up and forced his lips to curl into a grin. “If you look out the window, you’ll notice that we just walked through the wall.”

“Then you might have a problem.”

“Why?”

“We’ve got movement in the trees.”

Fenton spun toward the treeline. He tapped two soldiers on the shoulder, and in unison, the pair turned and leveled their weapons at the trees. As limbs swayed back and forth, Fenton inched closer. “You’re calling out to discuss some swaying branches?”

“With the monsters roaming this planet, we’d be foolish not to jump when things sway against the wind.”

The remaining rifles whirled through the air, joining Fenton. With the barrels focused on the swaying boughs, the squad closed in on the wall. When Fenton’s back met the stone, he steadied himself and edged toward the forest. As he stepped in front of his team, Fenton raised a hand, stopping the squad. “What exactly are we looking at?”

After taking a few steps, a branch swayed against the wind, and a pulse of yellow light tore from the Crow’s Nest and swallowed the tree.

“HEY!”

Flames erupted along the trunk in an instant. Then Fenton’s unit bounced off the barrier. Fenton whirled around, slamming his fist against the slab. “Open this gate!”

“Who’s out there!” a mysterious and gruff voice shot across the glade.

“Hurry and haul this stone away from the wall.” Fenton shoved his radio onto his belt as he pressed his cheek against the stock. “I’d prefer not to deal with whatever’s tracking us.”

A thick red beard pushed through the shadows as a heavy ax slammed into the ground beside the burning tree. He wrenched the blade free and cleaved it through the trunk...

Hidden Thread

Elena hadn’t meant to leave the trail, but her feet had other plans, getting her lost. After several minutes of searching, she caught a glimmer of light through the dense foliage, nothing more but enough to spark hope. Moments later, that simple flicker flared to life as she glimpsed more through the trees. She ducked branches as she weaved about the roots and vines. Each silent footfall landed on moss as she navigated the maze by the light seeping through the foliage.

When she burst forth from the tree line, she stumbled, dropping to her hands and knees as if the very air had stolen her strength. The cool grass cushioned her fall. When she dared to lift her gaze, the world around her bloomed in silent wonder. Mist glided like breath across the ground, while a wide silver river cut through the clearing, its surface still as glass.

Above the forest’s canopy, the clouds continued their slow drift across the lavender sky, like ink in water. Two stone arches, glowing with a faint violet light, stood beside each other on the shore. After climbing to her feet, she stumbled toward them, her breath catching. Each framed the same river cutting through a forest. Complete with a crooked branch jutting out to hang over the water and a black crow, with slick and motionless feathers, perched upon it.

As her gaze bounced between the views, the birds did the same thing. Resting motionless on their perches as they stared at her. Elena ignored them and resumed studying the images. The trees were the same. The rocks were the same. Everything seemed identical between the two images.

A gust stirred the mist, pulling it about her. As Elena whirled about, a low and melodic voice shattered the silence. “Ah, a threadwalker, bold and bright. Be ye drawn by fate or chance or fright?”

“What!? Who’s there!?”

A figure tumbled from the canopy, landing in a crouch. The rail-thin figure, no taller than a teenager, rose with a grin too wide for his face. A shadow of mirth curled behind his eyes as he bowed. When he rose, he stepped toward Elena, his hands drifting behind his back.

She reflexively stepped away from the newcomer, covering her mouth. “Who — What are you?”

The creature discarded an invisible hat with an exaggerated flourish. “Gaius, fool, guide, and test. I wear many names, none I detest. I keep the paths where threads unwind. It’s up to me to judge the walkers who dare to find.”

Elena’s head shook as she inched away. “What do you mean, judge?”

The creature danced a half-circle around Elena as his arms whipped about. “One path leads to the world that’s yours. The other? A shadow locked behind doors. Choose wrong, and you’ll be forced to stay. In someone else’s skin, day after day.”

Elena faced the portals. “They’re identical. How am I supposed to make a choice between them?”

Gaius clapped his hands like a giddy child. “Some weep, some choke. But some possess sight that burns through the smoke. Some find the thread that truths conceal. The path that bends, the world that’s real.”

She stepped to the portal on her right and resumed studying it. It was the same scene. Everything was unchanged...

Discovery: Repairs

Jarvis closed his eyes and thumped the wall of his useless ship. With a grunt, he marched into the laboratory and leaned against the doorframe, studying the plasma cannon’s exposed innards. He folded his arms across his chest and cleared his throat. “Cecile, how’s your work progressing?”

A curse echoed off the walls, and as silence rushed to fill the space, Cecile’s head crested the workbench. “You weren’t supposed to bother me for a couple of days while I performed my diagnostics.”

“That’s why you got five.”

“Has it been that long?”

Jarvis nodded as he retrieved an implement from the bench. “Based on where you are, I’ll assume you’re poking at my engine.”

Cecile snatched the tool from Jarvis, returning to the opening. “I’m following your standing orders to get this bucket off the ground.”

He reached down and pulled her clear of the hatch. Jarvis’s thumb pointed at the workbench as he leaned toward her. “While that’s an important goal, your top priority was repairing and replicating that cannon.”

With a shrug, Cecile waved her tool at the weapon scattered over her table. “Five days…?”

“You’re in your element. I’m not surprised you lost track of time.” He stepped to the workbench, tapping the device. “Now tell me why you’ve abandoned the cannon.”

“I haven’t deserted it.” Cecile swiped her eyes as her shoulders sagged. She hopped onto a stool and pulled an implement from her belt. She stuck the tip into the chamber and adjusted the wires there. “Whenever I wear out a mystery, I need to sink my teeth into something new.”

Jarvis plucked the tool from her and patted the chassis. “Have you repaired the overload?”

“Not yet.”

“We’ve successfully used the other experimental weapon in three raids.”

Cecile reclaimed the device and tapped it against the hollowed-out cannon. “There’s a difference between theoretical and operational. And given your proximity to the thing, I thought you’d appreciate that distinction.”

Jarvis wrung his hands. “When will we receive more cannons?”

“I’m not sure. While I’ve isolated the cause of their self-detonation, I haven’t corrected it. But if you’re eager to tempt suicide, I’ll produce flawed weapons for you.”

Jarvis’s palm slammed against his forehead while gritting his teeth. “If you’ve identified it, why isn’t it fixed?”

“Whoever designed the original was careless.”

“Why’s that?” Jarvis asked, sitting down at the workbench. “The folks back home are pretty smart.”

Cecile shook her head and dove into the open access panel. “Even the smartest people make mistakes, especially with a prototype...

Transformation: Backlash

A lithe man opened the door to the triumvirate’s office and stepped inside. He studied Caitlin and Quinn. With a smirk, he allowed the heavy door to slam shut. The thud shattered the silent room, making the two triumvirs jump in their seats. They looked up at the man with dirty-blond hair as he claimed his desk.

“Good morning, Olyver,” Caitlin said as he claimed his desk’s seat.

Olyver gave Caitlin a slight dip of his head, “Good morning, Caitlin. I hope you two are doing well.”

“What do you want?” Quinn asked as he shoved papers aside.

“To bring the two of you to task.”

Caitlin slammed her hands onto her desk as she shot to her feet. “You’re out of line—”

A whistle echoed through the office as Quinn stared at Caitlin. She stopped talking as she returned to her seat. Quinn’s gaze drifted to Olyver. “The triumvirate agreed that the conversations you’re seeking are best served by open discussion.”

“That was the agreement my predecessor made.” Olyver folded his arms across his chest.

“We searched for an appropriate time to hold these discussions. However, finding time for those talks has been difficult,” Quinn said.

Olyver lifted a finger, keeping Quinn from continuing. After a few moments, he lowered his hand and spoke with clarity. “Quinn, you both outmaneuvered Malark with ease. He lacked the aptitude for a life embroiled in politics.”

“We’re trying to lead our people back to the stars,” Caitlin said with a sigh. “We were not trying to outmaneuver your predecessor.”

Olyver eyed Caitlin, studying her for a moment. “Your intentions don’t matter. What you’ve done is to keep us from moving forward. If we wait for consensus before designing, we guarantee a death by paralysis. If we begin design now, we give that consensus something real to react to.”

“We do understand that,” Quinn said.

“Before we colonize another world, we need the laws to govern them determined and codified,” Olyver said as if Quinn hadn’t interrupted him.

Caitlin let her eyes flit to Quinn, and she saw his slight nod. She took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. “We know that as well, Olyver. But the scope of these conversations required us to shift the discussion to a forum to allow our citizens an opportunity to voice their opinions.”

“A delay tactic,” Olyver said with grace despite the nascent snarl. “One the population is growing tired of dealing with.”

Caitlin’s mouth parted for a moment before she snapped her lips shut. Her eyes lingered on Olyver for a second before shifting to Quinn.

“And what would you suggest, Olyver?” Quinn asked as he lifted a pen from his desk.

“For the three of us to have the very discussion you promised my predecessor and his constituents. However, I want more than a debate. I expect to derive a list of requirements for the ships, so that our engineers can start designing them. Also, we will draft the required legislation to guide our fledgling federation...