I had a very good interview today. It was at an American Bank who specialize in the automotive industry. Went well and lets see. I hope to hear back sometime next week.

Played some soccer with my son Emanuel and a friend of his Ramon. Had a nice time and I am enjoying the time off and chance to bond with my kids. Manu's getting better and better at ball control and I am so pleased with his progress. Alex seems disinterested. I hope to motivate him more in the neat future.

Chris

I have decided to leave my place of employment. This is a big step, I have two children and have been with the bank for three years. I am looking hard now for new work and have had some luck. I have an interview on Friday with another American transaction group. Keeping my fingers crossed.

C

Yesterday was my son's first day at school. This was an emotional roller coaster ride for my wife and I. It was also a major step for my son. This step seemed so far away just a few short years ago. Now he is going to school and getting homework.

To my son, enjoy.


Papa

A Galaxy Apart

The helio-ion sign flickered and shed soft light on the dirty street. The blast doors were all down at this time of night and the dual moons of Tor reflected off puddles of unknown liquid, offering just enough light for Kalen to see as he hurtled down the street. Gripping the device as he ran, his breath came in gasps and he could hear his heart pounding.

His grip tightening as he slipped and almost fell, the sound of a hover in the haze somewhere behind him made him put on more speed. Just a few more blocks and he’d be home free. Something crackled close to his ear. He smelled the bitter ions as they impacted with the air around him. He was being shot at.

He chanced a look and wished he’d never turned his head. The Hover was closing, blasters bright green from firing, and a hum could be heard as they were powering back up for the next volley.

Kalen ducked and turned a corner, darting into a small alley so dark he couldn’t see a damn thing. Luckily he’d been there before and pushed a big plexi-bin to the side and knelt hitting the keypad fast. With a soft whoosh a small panel slid open and he squirmed in.

Inside he hit the soft glowing button and the panel closed and disappeared. Above, the plexi-bin moved back in place and the alley was again dark and empty.

Kalen looked at the device and slid out a gar crystal from a recess in his cubby. He inserted the crystal into the lower part of the device and quickly entered the coordinates. He felt an odd chill run through his body and a tingling in his head. His ears rang and all went black.

*

Soft light and focus.

His one room flat was its usual mess of tech trash and synth food packages lying in little piles. He stepped over to his workbench and pushed some junk into the small round plexi-bin and set down the device with a smile. He’d made it.

The Govies had transporters and they controlled them more than anything else in the galaxy. A brilliant Gurd named Rentox developed the transporter eight years ago when the Republic was still free. The Govs were quick to snatch it and make it non-public. “Just think,” they said. “A criminal with this tech, never. Not to mention what the Reb’s would do with it!” So they squashed Rentox and wiped the patent from history. Very few, except for those in the scientific community even knew the transporter existed. Many wondered though, because the Patrollers could get from A to B just too damned fast.

Now the tables had turned.

**

On another planet a few parsecs away, Jewel paced nervously in her small flat overlooking the busy weigh-station of Kelker. Leaning on the sill she looked out into the gritty haze deep in thought. Jewel stared right through the hovers as they zipped in all directions transporting diverse payloads. She heard a soft tone and turned fast. Running to her vid-com, she secretly prayed for good news.

The lean handsome features of Mairi appeared on the hub. A big beaming smile plastered on his face.

“We’ve got it Jewel, and it’s functional.” “Yes,” she screamed and felt the warm glow of success envelop her. She moved her hand quickly signing off. The vid-com was no place for the conversation she needed to have with Mairi.

Exiting her flat, the door closed behind her with a soft hiss. Her hover was in the thirty-two segment, she couldn’t afford direct parking. The state shuttle was covered with phero-graffiti that changed color and message as it approached. She boarded and ignored the tired passengers and let it carry her away to thirty-two.

*

The eightieth floor of the Republic’s headquarters on planet Tor was brightly lit and heavily populated with rows of cubicles and vid-coms. The floor was a-buzz with activity and there was an obvious tenor of urgency.

In a large corner office with subdued private separators Consul Meer was furious. “You have got to be joking,” he said, almost screaming. “Transporters don’t go missing - never ever go missing.” The shaken cleric said nothing. He’d said it all already and was wishfully looking toward the exit of Consul Meer’s office. It beckoned him as if was the gateway to heaven its self.

“Get out, just, get OUT,” barked Meer and stepped behind his desk hearing the cleric exhale loudly and quietly disappear. Taking a moment to recover his composure, Meer activated his vid-com and called the Commander.

*

Cilian needed to go deep fast. He opened a call on his encrypted vid-com with three of his rebel contacts. The hub fuzzed and broke in to three separate images. One was Kyala, a beautiful Gurd with a serious face. She looked tired, small lines of worry showing on her soft purple skin. She’d obviously missed some sleep.

The second hub bristled to life and came into focus, Kendal. His rugged face looked tired too. The plan and its activation had obviously taken its toll on him. The lack of sleep and stress showed in the thick creases on his forehead. Kendal had a sloppy smile now and was anxious to get on with the call.

The third was Giwan, and he just looked furry and angry as usual, his huge fangs in a permanent predatory grin. He growled on the com and Cilian started to speak.

*
The purifiers hissed softly as Jewel entered the bunker like living towers of the Kelker management. Mairi was a Senior Shift Leader and enjoyed the living quarters attached to his status. The mover shot her up so fast she felt a slight vertigo as she looked out over the weigh station. Mairi lived on ninety-five and the mover stopped with a ping and a jerk. The dura-plast floor shined and the soft lighting was perfect, coming from nowhere. Jewel walked up to the portal and hit the com.

Mairi showed Jewel to a small office, it was neat and nicely decorated. As they entered the scanner started a full three-wave scan that ended with a soft digital female, “clear.” The voice was sexy and sounded vaguely familiar. Jewel gave Mairi a glare, expressing her frustration with his distrust. “Jewel, we’re where we are because we’re careful. Who knows, someone could have attached a transmitter or worse to you on the shuttle? Come, sit down, and let’s go over the details.” Mairi hit a pad on his desk and an opaque privacy door shut with a soft sound.

Jewel sat down in the soft chair and smiled as it immediately adapted to her weight and body temp, comfort she wasn’t used to. Mairi began to talk and hit his leadership cadence at the third word. He had a low commanding voice that Jewel could listen to for hours.

“As you know, we started this project at the university on Tor. We recruited a couple of academics, but we all agreed the key players would have to be ex-Mil and or ex-Govie toughs. This is where Kalen came in. He’s ex-special forces, a commander, and a smart and able man. He’s our link. He took over where you left off and organized the academics and Gurds into a movement. He planned and trained the team into a platoon-like force. Jewel, what you did to raise the funds was brilliant, but Kalen, he was able to get a group of diverse players and turn them into a team. He did this on a short budget and with surprising speed. ” Mairi had begun to pace, two steps, stop and turn and two more steps.

“Kalen’s team, together with your funds, and our oversight organized the perfect operation. The tactical parts of this operation were so important that Kalen left a ‘black-out clause’ on two critical steps. These steps, we all agreed at his insistence, had to be done by Kalen and Kalen alone.”

Mairi stopped pacing, and with a severe look explained further.

“We received the signal this morning. We’ll begin to transport the key players for the pickup. Let’s just hope Kalen holds up his end of the bargain.”

-

Dark Days in Sharm EL Sheik

Her eyes stung from beads of sweat running in slow rivulets down her forehead. Here on the Red Sea the heat was miserable. Better than Cairo she thought, where she'd often offered more than just a massage. The sun burnt tourists were always friendly and tipped well. Her shift was almost over and her overweight American patient fell asleep some time ago. Miret could feel her stomach tighten as she thought of her next fix. Mustafa the Turk, always had the best and his price was fair. Best of all, when she had little money she could use other methods of payment.

Cleaning up her station she bid the new shift farewell and went out the back entrance heading over to the employee huts. The smell of garbage suddenly filled her nose and she thought about the contrast of the tourist areas and true Egypt. The Egypt she knew and hated was to Miret just one big garbage bin.

Her hut was small and it welcomed her with its cool interior. She kept it very clean. Miret understood, to make it in the tourist industry one had to present a tidy image. Once inside, she closed and locked the hut's thin wooden door with a soft click. She went into her kitchen and grabbed one of the little vinyl-aluminium chairs. Carrying it over to the door she carefully placing it under the knob and jammed the door closed. Management often tried to surprise their employees. Not Miret.

Exhaling deeply, Miret pulled out the old leather bound Koran and opened it to a grimy page near the back. She felt her pulse quicken as her heart beat faster and faster, her fix near. The little bag with its brown contents, her spoon and kit now lay on the commode. Her bathroom door was closed, locked tightly. Miret left Egypt; she moved body and soul to cooler and more affluent regions of the world. Places where women could be more than labor and pleasure. Time left with her and she was free.

Suddenly she felt something pulling her back. It touched her and she felt heat from its grasp, painful yet more. It was vile, truly evil a rabid darkness. She tried to escape, but it attached itself to her somehow, clinging to her very soul. She felt weary as it fed and grew.

*

Merit slowly came down and woke up with her back to the bathroom door. She had a sharp pain where her right leg fell asleep. Rubbing her leg vigorously and slowly standing up, Miret looked into her little mirror. Her tired eyes looked back and then for an instant, a flash, she saw it! She thought it was a dream, but no, she saw it. Looking hard it flashed again. "Yes my dear, we are one now you and I." No, no, cried Miret, what are you? She could hear it plain as day, its steely voice edgy and capable. She realized horrified. The voice, the voice was in her head.

Miret's mind screamed as she fought what was happening to her. The thing held on tight as she mentally pried at its degenerate grasp. "Give up girl, your mine now and we have work to do," again its voice, crisp and haunting in her head. No, please, she continued to struggle slowly realizing its hopelessness. Miret fell back to the cold white tiles exhausted, her mouth moving as if it had a mind of its own. What do you want from me, what have you done? "Oh dear, you don't know do you?" She could feel it smiling; somehow she knew it was enjoying her pain. I was hard to tell at first, its voice so strong and steely, Miret thought it was a man, but now as it spoke, she realized it was a female voice. A voice so utterly horrible she thought she must vomit. Tasting the sour bile she asked, who are you? "Dear, later, later. I said, we have work to do."

Miret felt herself being pushed as if she were a marionette. She saw her hand open the thin bathroom door, and as if with a mind of its own her body began to walk into her small living space. Quickly passing the sitting area Miret could hear her feet making soft padding sounds as she entered the kitchenette. Left hand on the worn Formica top, her right hand pulled the drawer's handle. It opened with a soft screech revealing her utensils and the two kitchen knives she’d brought with her from Cairo. Her left hand reached out and grabbed the larger of the two, her mind screaming as she saw its razor sharp edge glint and reflect the light. Miret was right handed but the knife felt so comfortable in her left, it’s as if it belonged there. She looked again at the knife and shuddered in horror, it reflected not her visage but that of a monstrous toothy grin.

"So sweetie, where do we find this, Mustafa?" I-I- can't, no- what are you, no. "OK sweetie, then it's the hard way." Miret felt her mind ache as if it was being squeezed in a press. Arghh, the pain! "So, off we go. Next time simply tell me and save yourself some pain and pride dear." Miret turned on her heel and headed toward the simple door. Exiting quickly, the door slammed leaving flakes of cheap white paint flittering down to the cement of the entrance. Merit, her eyes squinting against the sunlight felt sickened by what the old crone had planned.

Still kick'n

Hi all, thought I'd take a minutes to say hello. I've had such a busy few months. My brother passed away and he was only 45. I flew to the US to ensure the burial went well and pay my respects.

The job is as busy as always and I find I have little time for anything but job and family. I am sorry my writing has paid for this lack of time but I'll try and write more soon.

Thanks for your patience and friendly mails.

Chris

The Gift

The Gift

A short story by Christopher S. Silva


It was a sunny summer weekend and I was outside working in the garden when something wonderful happened .The change was almost unnoticeable, then a rush of heat and a loud bellow, moist, acrid and hot.

My garden changed from a simple plot into a vast green field with huge craggy rocks and cliffs. I was behind a great boulder and could feel the heat of the beast on the other side. It bellowed again, I ducked, knees knocking. “Come man, grab your sword and shield ‘n we’ll go at him again.” Yelled an armored figure hunched next to me. I looked down and realized that I too was clad in rough armor.

“Heave up your sword, man! We must attack.” Again I searched and saw no sword just an old wooden branch lying at my feet. It was a mere twig. “Yes”, he yelled over the rancid breath of the thing opposite the boulder. I reached down and lifted the stick and it changed instantly, morphing into a heavy sword. I could smell the metal oil, and the hard leather grip felt just right in my iron clad hand. I gave it short swing and its balance was sweet and true. The armor clad knight made the sign of the cross over his chest and gave me a hard shove.

Stunned at the sight before me, I ducked, feet moving to gain solid ground. The giant dragon was awful, with huge yellow teeth and a kind of smelly mucus dripping from its bitter smile. Its voluminous body was all scales and rigid edges, sharp and dangerous. Its Stumpy giant legs ended in frightful talons.

The knight moved fast and sure, he struck like lightning and his blade reverberated off the beast’s scales with a mighty clang. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye as if to say, move! Instinct took over and I leapt, swinging my blade with all my might. Surprised at my own speed, my broadsword landed hard, sinking deep between its scales just below its angular jaw line. It yelped and sent me flying with a shake of its huge head. Hitting the ground rolling, I came to my feet quick and stood stunned for a second. The right side of my armor was badly scratched and dented but held.

The beast teetered and I saw crimson blood ooze from the gash. It let out a scream. The smell of rotten eggs and a billow of smoke rose from its ragged maw. My comrade moved fast and swung hard at the dragon’s underbelly, the smell was awful as it fell with a heavy thud and began shaking uncontrollably.

“Aaha, we’ve beaten him mate!” said the knight pulling at his helm. He had thick dirty blonde hair. His worn silver helm now under his left arm, his right shot out all iron and leather. “Emanuel Silva, Knight of the Portuguese realm at your service sir.” What a great blow you dealt the beast today.” I smiled for our last names were the same. I took his hand and felt his strong handshake. His eyes showed the love for a comrade in arms after a rugged battle.

The ground spun and my hand was no longer in Emanuel’s but on an oar and I was rowing slowly and quietly.

The small boat hit the wooden dock and the other two passengers silently tossed the line securing the boat. Climbing out they looked down at me as if to say, are you coming? I nodded and climbed out, slowly looking about. We were near a huge French style castle and I could barely make out the towers in the soft fog and pre-dawn light. I reached down and felt a sword at my belt; I had knee high thick leather boots with a heavy flap on top. Soft worn leather gloves adorned my hands with an emblem on top, an M embroidered in the rich bordeaux leather. The palms of my gloves were worn and much lighter in color than the back. The right’s leather was worn thin in some places. I was obviously a swordsman, and it seemed, a Musketeer.

The large Musketeer leaned in close and whispered “we’ll have to scale the tower, and then somehow get Pathos through the bars. Our escape must be silent and fast.” I nodded and followed the two swordsmen. Both musketeers were similar in features one slightly bigger than the other and both had the same dusty blonde hair that the Knight had. The one on the right had a long rolled rope over his left shoulder and the grapple held loosely in his right gloved hand.

We sneaked slowly to the moss covered base of the high tower and the large musketeer turned and put a gloved index finger to his lips to ensure silence. He pulled off the long rope and began to swing the grapple in a wide arc. The oval of rope and iron made a soft whirring sound and with a light grunt he let it fly. I could hardly see where it went as it disappeared into the mist toward the top of the tower. With a soft clang it never returned. The smaller one pushed his larger comrade aside and pulled on the rope testing its seat on the tower. Like a monkey he scurried up the rope and his larger companion nodded for me to go up. I am an overweight IT manager not an athletic sprite, but here, I was lean and fit. I grabbed hold of the rope and hand over hand went easily up into the mist. I felt the rope being held taut by our giant companion below.

I quickly came to an oval shaped window with a thick stone sill. The window had two rusty bars running horizontally down its middle. The Musketeer balanced precariously and pulled out a long iron lever. He placed it in my hand and with one foot on the sill and the other wrapped around the rope I moved the lever between the bars and heaved. Snap, I grinned, surprised at how easily I broke the bars.

I heard a whistle from below and knew we had to move fast. I squeezed through the window and landed cat-like in a dark room that smelt of mold and food. There was a small dais in the corner with a blanket covered person sleeping. I walked up and leaned down to shake the man awake and to my surprise is was again Emanuel Silva, this time with the pointed goatee and sharp mustache preferred by the French of the time. I shook him twice and he looked up startled at first then smiled warmly when he saw me. He put out a hand and helped him to his feet just as the whistle came again. The whistle changed to a call and again everything spun softly.

What was a whistle became the soft voice of my wife “come on boys, dinner is ready.” In my hand was my sons hand and I was pulling him from a long cardboard box stood on end and cut in the shape of a castle tower. Alex my other son held a string tight in his little hand, one foot firmly pressed to the box smiling.

“Come on, the food is getting cold.” Again my wife, I realized there and then the gift of children.. The chance to re-live youth, to study a butterfly or an anthill for more than an hour, to be excited about the smallest thing and notice the trivial and all the simple wonders we have filtered with age.

This is truly a wonderful gift indeed.