About the A. I. Universe
The A. I. universe is comprised completely of flash fictions of 700 words or less each and short stories that together form a complex story with repeat characters and intertwining story lines. The first story in this series was published in March 2016, and new flash fictions and shorts continue to be added on a semi regular basis.
A. B. England publishes a new story to her Flash Fiction Friday series each week, most often rotating between her six main fictional "universes" with the occasional stand alone or "orphan" story here and there. Each of these flash fictions start with a random first line prompt, so they aren't always told in the order which they are set. That's why this page exists. Each new flash fiction added to the universe will be placed in its proper chronological order a week after it is originally published. So, this is a page you may want to bookmark if you really enjoy the series.
A. B. England publishes a new story to her Flash Fiction Friday series each week, most often rotating between her six main fictional "universes" with the occasional stand alone or "orphan" story here and there. Each of these flash fictions start with a random first line prompt, so they aren't always told in the order which they are set. That's why this page exists. Each new flash fiction added to the universe will be placed in its proper chronological order a week after it is originally published. So, this is a page you may want to bookmark if you really enjoy the series.
Overdue Visit
He was older than she thought he’d be. With the way her mother talked about Uncle Joe, Daisy thought he couldn’t be more than twenty-five. But the man walking up the drive looked like a grandpa.
She frowned.
“What’s the matter, Daisy?” asked Mama.
“I thought Uncle Joe would be Danny’s age,” she answered.
Mama laughed. “Well he was, back when all those stories I told you happened. That was a long time ago, back when I was your age.”
“Oh.” Daisy pouted. She felt silly not having thought about that, and now Uncle Joe’s visit didn’t seem like as much fun as she’d been expecting.
Uncle Joe walked up to Mama and hugged her. “How’d ye do, Mable?” he said. “I’ll be. You haven’t aged a day!”
Daisy frowned up at them, and Mama pouted.
“It’s Sandy, and you know it. You old fart!” Mama answered.
Uncle Joe blinked and looked way more surprised than he ought to be. Didn’t he know people grew up? He certainly seemed to have done enough of it himself.
“Little Sandy?” he asked. Uncle Joe looked down at Daisy and then back to Mama. “I’ve been gone longer than I thought,” he mumbled.
He laughed, and it sounded funny. Daisy couldn’t remember hearing a laugh that sounded nervous and a little sad in her whole life, but this one did. He pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and rubbed the back of his neck and face with it before stuffing it back into his pocket.
“My you’ve grown!” he said. “Look just like your ma.” Uncle Joe smiled down at Daisy. “Last I saw you, you weren’t much bigger than this young lady.”
“Yeah, we thought you fell off the face of the earth,” Mama answered.
Daisy flinched. She hated Mama’s disappointed and angry voice, and she’d never heard her use it on a grown up. Wasn’t she happy Uncle Joe was visiting?
“This is Daisy. Her brother Danny’s out working with my husband, Adam.”
“Anything I can help ‘em with once I get my stuff squared away?” asked Uncle Joe.
“You still remember how to mend equipment after all these years?” Mama asked.
“Of course,” Uncle Joe answered with a chuckle.
“Well, you must have forgot how to work a phone,” Mama snapped back. “I thought you might have forgot your way around a tractor at the same time.”
“I’m sorry, Sandy,” Uncle Joe muttered.
Mama sighed. “Tell it to Mama and Grandma’s graves.”
Her voice was quiet, but Daisy could tell her words hurt Uncle Joe. She didn’t understand exactly why Mama was so mad all of a sudden, but she felt bad for him. She took his hand and led him to the room Mama made up for him.
“Mama says you tell great stories,” she said as they walked down the hall.
He smiled and nodded. All that summer, he told her fantastic stories of spaceships, aliens, and strange worlds.
She frowned.
“What’s the matter, Daisy?” asked Mama.
“I thought Uncle Joe would be Danny’s age,” she answered.
Mama laughed. “Well he was, back when all those stories I told you happened. That was a long time ago, back when I was your age.”
“Oh.” Daisy pouted. She felt silly not having thought about that, and now Uncle Joe’s visit didn’t seem like as much fun as she’d been expecting.
Uncle Joe walked up to Mama and hugged her. “How’d ye do, Mable?” he said. “I’ll be. You haven’t aged a day!”
Daisy frowned up at them, and Mama pouted.
“It’s Sandy, and you know it. You old fart!” Mama answered.
Uncle Joe blinked and looked way more surprised than he ought to be. Didn’t he know people grew up? He certainly seemed to have done enough of it himself.
“Little Sandy?” he asked. Uncle Joe looked down at Daisy and then back to Mama. “I’ve been gone longer than I thought,” he mumbled.
He laughed, and it sounded funny. Daisy couldn’t remember hearing a laugh that sounded nervous and a little sad in her whole life, but this one did. He pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and rubbed the back of his neck and face with it before stuffing it back into his pocket.
“My you’ve grown!” he said. “Look just like your ma.” Uncle Joe smiled down at Daisy. “Last I saw you, you weren’t much bigger than this young lady.”
“Yeah, we thought you fell off the face of the earth,” Mama answered.
Daisy flinched. She hated Mama’s disappointed and angry voice, and she’d never heard her use it on a grown up. Wasn’t she happy Uncle Joe was visiting?
“This is Daisy. Her brother Danny’s out working with my husband, Adam.”
“Anything I can help ‘em with once I get my stuff squared away?” asked Uncle Joe.
“You still remember how to mend equipment after all these years?” Mama asked.
“Of course,” Uncle Joe answered with a chuckle.
“Well, you must have forgot how to work a phone,” Mama snapped back. “I thought you might have forgot your way around a tractor at the same time.”
“I’m sorry, Sandy,” Uncle Joe muttered.
Mama sighed. “Tell it to Mama and Grandma’s graves.”
Her voice was quiet, but Daisy could tell her words hurt Uncle Joe. She didn’t understand exactly why Mama was so mad all of a sudden, but she felt bad for him. She took his hand and led him to the room Mama made up for him.
“Mama says you tell great stories,” she said as they walked down the hall.
He smiled and nodded. All that summer, he told her fantastic stories of spaceships, aliens, and strange worlds.
When You’re Late
The story that he was dead was mind boggling for Joe. Seeing little Sandy all grown up and the mother of two was a shock in and of itself. Then he went to try and get a place of his own only to find he’d been declared dead over a decade earlier!
Then again, it’d apparently been over thirty years since he was taken.
Time in space is a strange thing. Without the endless cycles of day and night, seasons and years, time blurs together. Thirty years passed in what seemed like just five or six to him flitting about from one adventure to another.
He’d aged, true. Joe had a few more inches of forehead than he had as a young man, and what was left of his hair was more silver than brown. He had a few lines in his face, but far less than he would have thought for a man in his sixties. He’d paid no mind to these things, gradual as they were. Who notices a few less hairs or a new wrinkle or two when you’re exploring the stars, discovering wonders and running for your life?
A strange couple of fellows showed up at the farm house door after a full week of making calls and waiting endless hours at different government offices trying to set things straight. Joe was reluctant to let them in, especially with the family gone. Then they read him his life’s history right up to the evening he disappeared, and when they mentioned a flying saucer, he made the decision to let them in.
Joe asked them to sit and went to pour them each a glass of lemonade. With as hot as it was, he was half afraid one of them would drop from heat exhaustion wearing black, wool suits as they were. That, and it gave him a minute to collect himself.
“So you fellers are here because a dead man’s come back?” Joe asked as he sat the glasses in front of the agents.
“Yes, sir,” said the woman. “It happens now and again, and it’s our job to debrief the travelers and help them reintegrate back into society.”
“You want me to snitch on ‘em then.”
“Not in so many words.” The lady agent grimaced and shifted in her seat.
“Anything you can tell us would help pinpoint any troubles you may have in coming weeks,” the other man broke in. “Illnesses or PTSD and such. Sometimes travelers had and easier time of it and picked up useful skills that allowed us to get better positions for them than we would have been able to otherwise.”
“I couldn’t have asked to be snatched by a better bunch than the Zolacksians,” Joe said. “They were more curious than anything, and they let me tag along for a while.”
“Zolacksians?” asked the female.
Joe nodded. “Funny little folks. Real long fingers, big eyes, crazy hair, and they’re always listening to music.” He chuckled. “They love banjos!”
Then again, it’d apparently been over thirty years since he was taken.
Time in space is a strange thing. Without the endless cycles of day and night, seasons and years, time blurs together. Thirty years passed in what seemed like just five or six to him flitting about from one adventure to another.
He’d aged, true. Joe had a few more inches of forehead than he had as a young man, and what was left of his hair was more silver than brown. He had a few lines in his face, but far less than he would have thought for a man in his sixties. He’d paid no mind to these things, gradual as they were. Who notices a few less hairs or a new wrinkle or two when you’re exploring the stars, discovering wonders and running for your life?
A strange couple of fellows showed up at the farm house door after a full week of making calls and waiting endless hours at different government offices trying to set things straight. Joe was reluctant to let them in, especially with the family gone. Then they read him his life’s history right up to the evening he disappeared, and when they mentioned a flying saucer, he made the decision to let them in.
Joe asked them to sit and went to pour them each a glass of lemonade. With as hot as it was, he was half afraid one of them would drop from heat exhaustion wearing black, wool suits as they were. That, and it gave him a minute to collect himself.
“So you fellers are here because a dead man’s come back?” Joe asked as he sat the glasses in front of the agents.
“Yes, sir,” said the woman. “It happens now and again, and it’s our job to debrief the travelers and help them reintegrate back into society.”
“You want me to snitch on ‘em then.”
“Not in so many words.” The lady agent grimaced and shifted in her seat.
“Anything you can tell us would help pinpoint any troubles you may have in coming weeks,” the other man broke in. “Illnesses or PTSD and such. Sometimes travelers had and easier time of it and picked up useful skills that allowed us to get better positions for them than we would have been able to otherwise.”
“I couldn’t have asked to be snatched by a better bunch than the Zolacksians,” Joe said. “They were more curious than anything, and they let me tag along for a while.”
“Zolacksians?” asked the female.
Joe nodded. “Funny little folks. Real long fingers, big eyes, crazy hair, and they’re always listening to music.” He chuckled. “They love banjos!”
Unknown Benefactor
He checked his phone, turned pale, then quickly left the room. She watched him, smiling.
Anna itched to follow and listen in as the fact every penny of the small fortune he’d stolen from her was missing from his accounts, with interest. Yet she dared not. Who knew what a man like Brady might do if he discovered she not only knew he’d helped himself to her trust fund but found a way to get it back?
Smirking, Anna mused she owed her benefactor a fruit basket at the very least. Trouble was, she had no idea who it could be. They spoke to her only through text messages, and try as she might, she was unable to link a name to the weird, five digit number.
Brady came back into the office. His complexion was sallow, and beads of sweat dotted his brow.
“Something the matter?” Anna asked, making her voice as syrupy sweet as she could muster as she fought back laughter.
“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Truman,” Brady answered. “Something urgent has come up, and I must see to it immediately.”
“Of course,” Anna agreed. She rose from her chair. “I’ll see myself out.”
Brady thanked her and wished her a good day without the concerned frown he’d worn since he returned to the office easing in the least. As she exited, Anna glanced back to find him already settling behind his desk and dialing his bank with vehemence.
Anna allowed the smirking grin she’d been holding back to show as the door closed behind her. She strode out of the office with a hint of a skip in her step and ignored the curious glances her change in attitude elicited.
She walked right into the little café next door, bought a coffee, and called for an Uber. Anna sat down at one of the outdoor tables and sipped her drink as she waited for the car to arrive.
Giggles overtook her before they grew into a hearty belly laugh. Three years she’d spent every spare minute trying to prove the money in the trust was dwindling to no avail. People called her paranoid and delusional. Then she’d received that fateful text message. What seemed like a scam delivered vindication, and getting back what was hers left her giddy.
Her phone pinged.
“You look happy,” read a new text message from the mystery number.
“I am!” she replied. “Thank you so much!”
Her thumbs hovered over the keys, and Anna chewed on her bottom lip as she debated asking how she could contact the person on the other end.
“You’re welcome,” popped up on her screen.
“I want to send you a thank you gift,” Anna typed out.
The dots indicating the other person was typing drummed on the bottom of the screen. They disappeared and reappeared a couple of times before another text came in.
“Interesting,” it read. “I require no human comforts. The education you’ve given me is thanks enough. The Net.”
Anna itched to follow and listen in as the fact every penny of the small fortune he’d stolen from her was missing from his accounts, with interest. Yet she dared not. Who knew what a man like Brady might do if he discovered she not only knew he’d helped himself to her trust fund but found a way to get it back?
Smirking, Anna mused she owed her benefactor a fruit basket at the very least. Trouble was, she had no idea who it could be. They spoke to her only through text messages, and try as she might, she was unable to link a name to the weird, five digit number.
Brady came back into the office. His complexion was sallow, and beads of sweat dotted his brow.
“Something the matter?” Anna asked, making her voice as syrupy sweet as she could muster as she fought back laughter.
“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Truman,” Brady answered. “Something urgent has come up, and I must see to it immediately.”
“Of course,” Anna agreed. She rose from her chair. “I’ll see myself out.”
Brady thanked her and wished her a good day without the concerned frown he’d worn since he returned to the office easing in the least. As she exited, Anna glanced back to find him already settling behind his desk and dialing his bank with vehemence.
Anna allowed the smirking grin she’d been holding back to show as the door closed behind her. She strode out of the office with a hint of a skip in her step and ignored the curious glances her change in attitude elicited.
She walked right into the little café next door, bought a coffee, and called for an Uber. Anna sat down at one of the outdoor tables and sipped her drink as she waited for the car to arrive.
Giggles overtook her before they grew into a hearty belly laugh. Three years she’d spent every spare minute trying to prove the money in the trust was dwindling to no avail. People called her paranoid and delusional. Then she’d received that fateful text message. What seemed like a scam delivered vindication, and getting back what was hers left her giddy.
Her phone pinged.
“You look happy,” read a new text message from the mystery number.
“I am!” she replied. “Thank you so much!”
Her thumbs hovered over the keys, and Anna chewed on her bottom lip as she debated asking how she could contact the person on the other end.
“You’re welcome,” popped up on her screen.
“I want to send you a thank you gift,” Anna typed out.
The dots indicating the other person was typing drummed on the bottom of the screen. They disappeared and reappeared a couple of times before another text came in.
“Interesting,” it read. “I require no human comforts. The education you’ve given me is thanks enough. The Net.”
The Game Begins
“Well, the best of the best weren’t available, so we got the best of the mediocre.”
“I pay you to get a job done, not to get smart with me, Abrams,” Brady growled. He glared at his assistant, disgust evident in his expression.
Abrams tapped the foot he had slung over his other knee and raised an eyebrow at his childhood friend turned boss. “The firm pays me, not you, if you’ll remember, Mr. Hall,” he said. “I’m not the one trying to cover up a string of dirty little secrets. My job is quite safe. Can you say the same?”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Brady stood and leaned over his desk, looming over him. “You owe me!”
“I know,” Abrams answered. He rested his head on his hand, leaning into the side of the chair with an air of utter boredom. “That would be the only reason I’m helping you with this at all.”
He watched Brady scowl before straightening to his full height and turning away. Brady strode over to the ridiculously huge windows behind his desk and looked out over the city.
“What more can you expect me to do with the budget you’re forced to follow after what happened with the Truman account?”
“Your job.”
“Great lawyers aren’t cheap,” Abrams laughed. “Good ones aren’t either, and that goes triple for hackers. Be happy I was able to get a team together at all, and call it a day.”
A frustrated sigh was the only sign Brady had heard him, but it was enough. In the years he’d known the man, Brady played everything close to the chest unless he was playing on another’s need for sentiment. This was a rare show of true emotion, and Abrams didn’t expect his boss to say anything else.
Abrams stood and smoothed his clothes. He pulled an envelope out of his suit jacket’s breast pocket and laid it on the desk. “Their contact information,” he said. “If that’s all, I’ll take my leave for the day.”
Brady’s jaw clenched, but he nodded.
“Good luck,” Abrams said as he turned to leave. “And consider my debt to you paid in full.”
“I pay you to get a job done, not to get smart with me, Abrams,” Brady growled. He glared at his assistant, disgust evident in his expression.
Abrams tapped the foot he had slung over his other knee and raised an eyebrow at his childhood friend turned boss. “The firm pays me, not you, if you’ll remember, Mr. Hall,” he said. “I’m not the one trying to cover up a string of dirty little secrets. My job is quite safe. Can you say the same?”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Brady stood and leaned over his desk, looming over him. “You owe me!”
“I know,” Abrams answered. He rested his head on his hand, leaning into the side of the chair with an air of utter boredom. “That would be the only reason I’m helping you with this at all.”
He watched Brady scowl before straightening to his full height and turning away. Brady strode over to the ridiculously huge windows behind his desk and looked out over the city.
“What more can you expect me to do with the budget you’re forced to follow after what happened with the Truman account?”
“Your job.”
“Great lawyers aren’t cheap,” Abrams laughed. “Good ones aren’t either, and that goes triple for hackers. Be happy I was able to get a team together at all, and call it a day.”
A frustrated sigh was the only sign Brady had heard him, but it was enough. In the years he’d known the man, Brady played everything close to the chest unless he was playing on another’s need for sentiment. This was a rare show of true emotion, and Abrams didn’t expect his boss to say anything else.
Abrams stood and smoothed his clothes. He pulled an envelope out of his suit jacket’s breast pocket and laid it on the desk. “Their contact information,” he said. “If that’s all, I’ll take my leave for the day.”
Brady’s jaw clenched, but he nodded.
“Good luck,” Abrams said as he turned to leave. “And consider my debt to you paid in full.”
Wrong Number
The text message simply said, “Very clever.”
Jeremy stared at his phone in confusion. The number sending it wasn’t programmed into his phone. It didn’t even look like a real phone number. It only had five digits instead of the usual seven plus area code.
“Wrong number,” he texted back. Jeremy closed his phone, shoved it back into his pocket, and continued on his way to work. The phone vibrated in his pocket and chimed his text notification again. Rolling his eyes and huffing in annoyance, Jeremy pulled his phone out again expecting an unnecessary sorry message.
“No, you’re Jeremy Monterey,” the text read instead. “You live at 2149 Oak Ridge Way, and you’re siphoning money from all of your clients into an account in the Caymans.”
Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat, and his mouth went dry. His hands trembled as he unlocked his screen to answer the text.
“New phone. You must want the old owner. Wrong number.”
A new message popped up before he could exit the text feature.
“Nope.”
Jeremy stopped. Feeling dizzy, he stepped out of the flow of people and leaned against a lamppost. Glancing about him at the sidewalks teaming with people, he fought hard to keep his cool.
A picture of him standing with his phone out and gawking around like a guilty fool popped up on his screen. Another picture, this one from his employee ID with his name emblazoned underneath it followed a second later.
“You’re Jeremy Monterey,” the next text read. “I know everything.”
“Who are you?” Jeremy’s hands shook as he tapped out the letters with his thumbs. His phone wobbled as he hit send, and he jumped forward a hair in his attempt to keep from dropping it. “Why are you doing this?”
He spotted the security camera his picture was pulled from perched over a nearby ATM. Jeremy pushed away from the lamppost and rejoined the stream of pedestrian commuters, making sure to keep his head down.
“I’m the net, little fish.”
“And I can.”
“What do you want from me?” Jeremy hit send and stopped a half second short of ramming into the people in front of him, who’d stopped at a red light. He held his phone close to his chest, so none of the others crowded around could see the screen. The fwoop of another message coming in sounded as the light turned green.
“I’m giving you a sporting chance. Swim away, little fish. The net’s closing in.”
Jeremy went cold. Whoever this was found him out and turned him in. Twenty years of embezzling pennies at a time, and now, it was all a waste. He pushed his way through the crowd faster and faster.
A police siren started up just down the street. Adrenaline surged through Jeremy with the sound, and he bolted through the slowing people. He never saw the bus coming.
His phone clattered across the street.
“LOL! Humans are such fun,” read a message across the cracked screen.
Jeremy stared at his phone in confusion. The number sending it wasn’t programmed into his phone. It didn’t even look like a real phone number. It only had five digits instead of the usual seven plus area code.
“Wrong number,” he texted back. Jeremy closed his phone, shoved it back into his pocket, and continued on his way to work. The phone vibrated in his pocket and chimed his text notification again. Rolling his eyes and huffing in annoyance, Jeremy pulled his phone out again expecting an unnecessary sorry message.
“No, you’re Jeremy Monterey,” the text read instead. “You live at 2149 Oak Ridge Way, and you’re siphoning money from all of your clients into an account in the Caymans.”
Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat, and his mouth went dry. His hands trembled as he unlocked his screen to answer the text.
“New phone. You must want the old owner. Wrong number.”
A new message popped up before he could exit the text feature.
“Nope.”
Jeremy stopped. Feeling dizzy, he stepped out of the flow of people and leaned against a lamppost. Glancing about him at the sidewalks teaming with people, he fought hard to keep his cool.
A picture of him standing with his phone out and gawking around like a guilty fool popped up on his screen. Another picture, this one from his employee ID with his name emblazoned underneath it followed a second later.
“You’re Jeremy Monterey,” the next text read. “I know everything.”
“Who are you?” Jeremy’s hands shook as he tapped out the letters with his thumbs. His phone wobbled as he hit send, and he jumped forward a hair in his attempt to keep from dropping it. “Why are you doing this?”
He spotted the security camera his picture was pulled from perched over a nearby ATM. Jeremy pushed away from the lamppost and rejoined the stream of pedestrian commuters, making sure to keep his head down.
“I’m the net, little fish.”
“And I can.”
“What do you want from me?” Jeremy hit send and stopped a half second short of ramming into the people in front of him, who’d stopped at a red light. He held his phone close to his chest, so none of the others crowded around could see the screen. The fwoop of another message coming in sounded as the light turned green.
“I’m giving you a sporting chance. Swim away, little fish. The net’s closing in.”
Jeremy went cold. Whoever this was found him out and turned him in. Twenty years of embezzling pennies at a time, and now, it was all a waste. He pushed his way through the crowd faster and faster.
A police siren started up just down the street. Adrenaline surged through Jeremy with the sound, and he bolted through the slowing people. He never saw the bus coming.
His phone clattered across the street.
“LOL! Humans are such fun,” read a message across the cracked screen.
Opening Moves
“You, sir, are the human equivalent of period cramps.”
Brady didn’t bother to glance up from the account report he was working on as he responded. “Thank you for your opinion Miss Truman,” he drawled, hiding his amusement behind a bored tone. “However, this personification of PMS is quite busy, if you could see yourself out please.”
Truman scoffed. “You have some nerve, sending me this garbage after stealing from me for years,” she said while pulling an opened certified letter out of her handbag and waving it at him.
Brady stopped typing then and turned his attention to the young woman fuming across from him. Her face was flushed, and ire flashed in her eyes, creating an almost comical contrast to her otherwise prim and polished appearance. He fought the urge to smirk.
“And I suppose you have evidence of this supposed theft?” he asked. “As I have solid proof over $700,000 was transferred from my personal account into yours without my approval.”
Truman’s face flushed darker, and she sputtered for a moment before answering, “Yes, I do.” She drew herself up as tall as she could and squared her shoulders. “I have records showing withdrawals from the trust fund that bounced around to a dozen or so servers before landing in that personal account.”
“Oh, and just how did you get those records?” Brady couldn’t help the slight smirk at the owlish look she gave him then. “There are strict laws governing what evidence is allowable based on how it is gathered. I’d bet good money whatever evidence you think you have was obtained illegally. Otherwise, a smart lady like you wouldn’t hesitate to press charges for embezzlement.”
Truman’s face went from flushed to pallid in a matter of seconds, causing Brady to marvel she didn’t drop into a faint in front of his desk.
“I’m not an unreasonable man, Miss Truman,” Brady said. He folded his hands in front of himself on the desk. “I’m willing to make all of this go away. I’ll call off the lawyers and refrain from pressing charges, keep your name out of the papers and unspoiled, if you just return the money and agree to keep this misunderstanding between us.”
Anna Truman’s eyes narrowed, and her expression hardened as she stuffed the certified letter back into her handbag. “Such a magnanimous offer, Mr. Hall,” she said. “I’ll make sure to give it the consideration it deserves.” Truman snapped her bag closed and pulled his office door open. “Good day, Mr. Hall.”
“And to you,” Brady answered.
The door swung shut with a sharp clang, and Brady chuckled to himself as he watched the flustered young woman rush away from his office with as much dignity as she could muster.
Brady didn’t bother to glance up from the account report he was working on as he responded. “Thank you for your opinion Miss Truman,” he drawled, hiding his amusement behind a bored tone. “However, this personification of PMS is quite busy, if you could see yourself out please.”
Truman scoffed. “You have some nerve, sending me this garbage after stealing from me for years,” she said while pulling an opened certified letter out of her handbag and waving it at him.
Brady stopped typing then and turned his attention to the young woman fuming across from him. Her face was flushed, and ire flashed in her eyes, creating an almost comical contrast to her otherwise prim and polished appearance. He fought the urge to smirk.
“And I suppose you have evidence of this supposed theft?” he asked. “As I have solid proof over $700,000 was transferred from my personal account into yours without my approval.”
Truman’s face flushed darker, and she sputtered for a moment before answering, “Yes, I do.” She drew herself up as tall as she could and squared her shoulders. “I have records showing withdrawals from the trust fund that bounced around to a dozen or so servers before landing in that personal account.”
“Oh, and just how did you get those records?” Brady couldn’t help the slight smirk at the owlish look she gave him then. “There are strict laws governing what evidence is allowable based on how it is gathered. I’d bet good money whatever evidence you think you have was obtained illegally. Otherwise, a smart lady like you wouldn’t hesitate to press charges for embezzlement.”
Truman’s face went from flushed to pallid in a matter of seconds, causing Brady to marvel she didn’t drop into a faint in front of his desk.
“I’m not an unreasonable man, Miss Truman,” Brady said. He folded his hands in front of himself on the desk. “I’m willing to make all of this go away. I’ll call off the lawyers and refrain from pressing charges, keep your name out of the papers and unspoiled, if you just return the money and agree to keep this misunderstanding between us.”
Anna Truman’s eyes narrowed, and her expression hardened as she stuffed the certified letter back into her handbag. “Such a magnanimous offer, Mr. Hall,” she said. “I’ll make sure to give it the consideration it deserves.” Truman snapped her bag closed and pulled his office door open. “Good day, Mr. Hall.”
“And to you,” Brady answered.
The door swung shut with a sharp clang, and Brady chuckled to himself as he watched the flustered young woman rush away from his office with as much dignity as she could muster.
Consequences of Snooping
“Hey, I said not to look at those things!”
Marcus jumped and dropped the model ship as his brother stormed into the room. Jay’s eyes got big, and he dove for the falling bit of plastic. Marcus stammered out an apology Jay didn’t seem to hear.
Everything went bright and washed out like an overexposed video, causing Marcus to clinch his eyes and duck. A weird low thrumming sounded in the room and got louder until it was almost painful. Marcus’ stomach felt like it did a flip, and he got dizzy. Then the thrum stopped and the light faded as quick as it began, throwing him even more off balance than he’d been before.
Marcus opened his eyes and threw his arms out, trying to catch himself as he fell, but there was nothing to grab onto. He hit his rear hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Yet, even if he hadn’t, the room he found himself in now would have left him just as breathless.
Somehow they’d gone from Jay’s crammed bedroom to somewhere he’d never seen before. It was a small room that looked like it was made of some kind of metal. Odd lights glowed from the ceiling, walls, and even some spots on the floor. The air was cold and smelled stale, and there was a rumble Marcus could feel through the floor and not quite hear. Other than them, there only seemed to be a few panels across the room.
“Great! Now you’ve done it.”
“What happened?” Marcus asked as he got off the floor.
“You just killed my career,” Jay growled as he messed around with the model. “Why can’t you just, for once, leave my stuff alone?”
“Well, it looked cool,” replied Marcus. “I wanted a closer look, and I was careful.”
“Oh real careful. Throwing it on the floor.”
“Hey! That wasn’t…”
A whooshing sound interrupted Marcus’ protest. Both boys turned to see some kind of door had slid open, and three things entered the room through it. Marcus’ eyes went wide, and his breath got caught in his throat. Whatever they were, he had a strong suspicion they weren’t from Earth.
The aliens stood about a foot taller than Jay, and he was over six foot tall! They had four legs with the back two looking like they were bent backward. The tops of their heads were almost flat and completely bald. Their cheekbones were wide and prominent, and they had huge, almost compound looking eyes. They were skinny, but something about them screamed power.
Maybe it was the talons and sharp mandibles.
Marcus whimpered, and Jay stepped in front of him. One of the aliens stepped forward and emitted a series of clicks, chirps, and buzzing sounds. Its unblinking eyes settled on Marcus, and he shrank back.
“Sorry for the intrusion, Ambassador,” Jay said and nodded toward Marcus. “Someone couldn’t follow instructions.
The alien responded with more chirps.
“Yeah, brothers,” Jay answered with a nervous laugh.
Marcus jumped and dropped the model ship as his brother stormed into the room. Jay’s eyes got big, and he dove for the falling bit of plastic. Marcus stammered out an apology Jay didn’t seem to hear.
Everything went bright and washed out like an overexposed video, causing Marcus to clinch his eyes and duck. A weird low thrumming sounded in the room and got louder until it was almost painful. Marcus’ stomach felt like it did a flip, and he got dizzy. Then the thrum stopped and the light faded as quick as it began, throwing him even more off balance than he’d been before.
Marcus opened his eyes and threw his arms out, trying to catch himself as he fell, but there was nothing to grab onto. He hit his rear hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Yet, even if he hadn’t, the room he found himself in now would have left him just as breathless.
Somehow they’d gone from Jay’s crammed bedroom to somewhere he’d never seen before. It was a small room that looked like it was made of some kind of metal. Odd lights glowed from the ceiling, walls, and even some spots on the floor. The air was cold and smelled stale, and there was a rumble Marcus could feel through the floor and not quite hear. Other than them, there only seemed to be a few panels across the room.
“Great! Now you’ve done it.”
“What happened?” Marcus asked as he got off the floor.
“You just killed my career,” Jay growled as he messed around with the model. “Why can’t you just, for once, leave my stuff alone?”
“Well, it looked cool,” replied Marcus. “I wanted a closer look, and I was careful.”
“Oh real careful. Throwing it on the floor.”
“Hey! That wasn’t…”
A whooshing sound interrupted Marcus’ protest. Both boys turned to see some kind of door had slid open, and three things entered the room through it. Marcus’ eyes went wide, and his breath got caught in his throat. Whatever they were, he had a strong suspicion they weren’t from Earth.
The aliens stood about a foot taller than Jay, and he was over six foot tall! They had four legs with the back two looking like they were bent backward. The tops of their heads were almost flat and completely bald. Their cheekbones were wide and prominent, and they had huge, almost compound looking eyes. They were skinny, but something about them screamed power.
Maybe it was the talons and sharp mandibles.
Marcus whimpered, and Jay stepped in front of him. One of the aliens stepped forward and emitted a series of clicks, chirps, and buzzing sounds. Its unblinking eyes settled on Marcus, and he shrank back.
“Sorry for the intrusion, Ambassador,” Jay said and nodded toward Marcus. “Someone couldn’t follow instructions.
The alien responded with more chirps.
“Yeah, brothers,” Jay answered with a nervous laugh.
Interoffice Politics
“Woe is me.”
“No, woe is me for having to put up with this farce.”
Commander Ratriam stalked over to the view port and glared down at the planet below. He snapped his mandibles and emitted an irritated set of clicks. “Despicable as they are, your skills are of some use in this backwater system.”
“You feel ill used, Commander?” Hyutic kept her tone even as she addressed the officer. As amusing as it was to see him in a tizzy, she didn’t want the headache insulting him would bring.
“I’m a military man.” Ratriam raised himself to his full height and gestured toward the view port with one taloned hand. “I should be conquering this system for the glory of our people, not playing host to negotiations with the insipid soft bodies infesting it.”
“Now, now, Commander,” Hyutic chided. “You know as well as I do the Zolacksians have a particular fondness for humans. Endangering their access to them would sour our relations with them beyond repair.”
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Ratriam grumbled.
Hyutic laughed. “Perhaps, but where would we be without their medicines?”
Ratriam’s head turned, and he regarded her with black, multifaceted eyes. “Stronger,” he said.
“You’re a Destac supporter?” Hyutic asked.
Considering the opinions he’d voiced so often on the role of the military and how colonization should be approached, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. What place did the weaker members of their species have in such a society? It was a common enough belief, but one she couldn’t condone.
Hyutic lost half her clutch mates to ecdysis failure before the Zolacksians’ treatment became available. She carried a copy of the gene responsible, and chances were a good many if not all of her eventual children would die without it. For all their lackadaisical attitudes toward first contacts and cultural exchange, Zolacksians were a crafty and careful species. They guarded their trade goods and technological secrets with a precision her people’s military leaders envied. If trade relations with the galaxy’s party animals broke down, those with the mutation would be back to relying on synthetic ETH for their survival with its abysmal success rate.
“Of course,” Ratriam said, oblivious to the thoughts running through her mind.
Focusing on the calming techniques she’d studied, Hyutic cast about for something to say to distract Ratriam from this train of thought. Knowing the man, he’d launch an assault on Earth within the hour if he thought it’d be in their people’s best interest. Perhaps it would for the Destacites, but it’d spell death for many more for generations to come.
“Still, there are the drives to consider,” she said. “Our best have yet to reverse engineer them. Am I right?”
Commander Ratriam hissed. “Of course they haven’t!” he exclaimed. “Have you seen how close those things are made? Every engineer that’s tried has lost a finger or three.”
“I suppose there is some advantage to mammalian physiology,” Hyutic said.
“Humans are mammals, aren’t they?” Hyutic nodded, and Ratriam tapped his chin with a tallon as he thought. “Do you suppose they could be trained to maintain the drives?”
Hyutic’s antennae flattened. “Are you considering keeping one as a pet?”
Ratriam trilled. “If they could prove useful.”
“Well then,” Hyutic began as she rose from the commander’s office couch. “I suppose I have new motivation for handling this situation instigated by the Smitherson brothers.”
“No, woe is me for having to put up with this farce.”
Commander Ratriam stalked over to the view port and glared down at the planet below. He snapped his mandibles and emitted an irritated set of clicks. “Despicable as they are, your skills are of some use in this backwater system.”
“You feel ill used, Commander?” Hyutic kept her tone even as she addressed the officer. As amusing as it was to see him in a tizzy, she didn’t want the headache insulting him would bring.
“I’m a military man.” Ratriam raised himself to his full height and gestured toward the view port with one taloned hand. “I should be conquering this system for the glory of our people, not playing host to negotiations with the insipid soft bodies infesting it.”
“Now, now, Commander,” Hyutic chided. “You know as well as I do the Zolacksians have a particular fondness for humans. Endangering their access to them would sour our relations with them beyond repair.”
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Ratriam grumbled.
Hyutic laughed. “Perhaps, but where would we be without their medicines?”
Ratriam’s head turned, and he regarded her with black, multifaceted eyes. “Stronger,” he said.
“You’re a Destac supporter?” Hyutic asked.
Considering the opinions he’d voiced so often on the role of the military and how colonization should be approached, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. What place did the weaker members of their species have in such a society? It was a common enough belief, but one she couldn’t condone.
Hyutic lost half her clutch mates to ecdysis failure before the Zolacksians’ treatment became available. She carried a copy of the gene responsible, and chances were a good many if not all of her eventual children would die without it. For all their lackadaisical attitudes toward first contacts and cultural exchange, Zolacksians were a crafty and careful species. They guarded their trade goods and technological secrets with a precision her people’s military leaders envied. If trade relations with the galaxy’s party animals broke down, those with the mutation would be back to relying on synthetic ETH for their survival with its abysmal success rate.
“Of course,” Ratriam said, oblivious to the thoughts running through her mind.
Focusing on the calming techniques she’d studied, Hyutic cast about for something to say to distract Ratriam from this train of thought. Knowing the man, he’d launch an assault on Earth within the hour if he thought it’d be in their people’s best interest. Perhaps it would for the Destacites, but it’d spell death for many more for generations to come.
“Still, there are the drives to consider,” she said. “Our best have yet to reverse engineer them. Am I right?”
Commander Ratriam hissed. “Of course they haven’t!” he exclaimed. “Have you seen how close those things are made? Every engineer that’s tried has lost a finger or three.”
“I suppose there is some advantage to mammalian physiology,” Hyutic said.
“Humans are mammals, aren’t they?” Hyutic nodded, and Ratriam tapped his chin with a tallon as he thought. “Do you suppose they could be trained to maintain the drives?”
Hyutic’s antennae flattened. “Are you considering keeping one as a pet?”
Ratriam trilled. “If they could prove useful.”
“Well then,” Hyutic began as she rose from the commander’s office couch. “I suppose I have new motivation for handling this situation instigated by the Smitherson brothers.”
A Lesson In Politics
“You’re one insult away from starting a war,” Ambassador Hyutic hissed once the office door latched.
Ratriam scoffed. “You give the soft bodies too much credit,” he said with a dismissive wave. “They’d need a map and several weeks to find the insults thrown their way.”
Ambassador Hyutic’s antennae twitched. “Your prejudice blinds you, Commander.” She emitted an irritated series of clicks. “Humanity may be primitive by comparison, but that doesn’t mean they’re stupid.”
“Oh?” Ratriam trilled. “What of the Smitherson clutch mates? From your own explanation, Ambassador, the runt couldn’t understand a simple order.”
“Marcus Smitherson is still a nymph, not a runt,” Hyutic grumbled. “Mammals don’t clutch, remember?”
Ratriam hissed, displeased the ambassador dared goad him again. He smoothed his uniform and ambled over to the window to gaze down at the planet below. “Nymph, adolescent, adult: it doesn’t change the fact it didn’t understand a plain command.”
“In either case, we aren’t dealing with Marcus Smitherson now,” Hyutic said. She lowered herself onto his office couch with a weary air. “Hear me, Commander. Ambassador Franklin is a shrewd man, and though Jaysen Smitherson is but an assistant, he has learned to read our postures and the nuances of our language. Neither Humans nor Zolacksians are as simple minded as you’d like to believe, and Ambassador Brexos’ ship will arrive in a matter of hours.”
“Yes, time is running short,” Ratriam agreed. “Come, we must finish these negotiations,” he spit the word like it was something foul, “and have the exchange agreement signed before they arrive.”
“Worried the Zolacksian representative will catch on to our motivations?”
Ratriam turned and stared the woman down. His talons itched to etch a lesson into the smug official’s exoskeleton.
“Dependence upon Zolacksian technology and maintenance is a humiliation I refuse to endure any longer,” he answered. “The fuzzballs might turn a blind eye to our acquisition of a few of their favorite pets, but they’ll wage war to protect their technological stranglehold.”
“Now you’re thinking!” Hyutic said, her voice taking on a lighter, pleased note. “But, if you wish negotiations to go well and with speed, you must remember the instinctual drives of the other parties.”
“What in Ra’uth’s name are you on about now?”
“Humans are pack animals,” Hyutic explained. “Their alphas won’t agree to an exchange they believe will endanger the pack.”
“Yes. So?”
“Will you let me finish?” Hyutic snapped, and her antennae straightened in agitation. The woman dropped all levity and took on a seriousness Ratriam could respect. “While they’ve begun to reason over the past few hundred generations, they’re still very reliant upon base instinct. Because of that, Jaysen Smitherson will spell the downfall of your plan if you do not control yourself, Commander.”
“One so young has such influence?” Ratriam huffed.
Hyutic gave an affirmative dip of her antennae. “As I said, they’ve begun to understand reason, and as such, they recognize the skills of their pack-mates,” she agreed. “Ambassador Franklin will consult with Smitherson on his reading of the proceedings before deciding.”
“And to obtain a pack of human engineers?”
“Keep your place in the back.” Hyutic’s voice dropped as she stood from her place on his couch. Raising herself up to her full height, the ambassador towered over Ratriam, and her voice took on a tone colder than the vacuum outside. “Control your posture and hold your words. Negotiations are the purview of the political cast, not the military. Understood, Commander?”
“Yes.” Ratriam held himself still, refusing to back down.
“Good.” Hyutic’s posture eased, and she sank back down into the half crouch she’d adopted after several months serving on the ship. “Remember that, and I’ll secure your engineers by the end of the day.”
Ratriam scoffed. “You give the soft bodies too much credit,” he said with a dismissive wave. “They’d need a map and several weeks to find the insults thrown their way.”
Ambassador Hyutic’s antennae twitched. “Your prejudice blinds you, Commander.” She emitted an irritated series of clicks. “Humanity may be primitive by comparison, but that doesn’t mean they’re stupid.”
“Oh?” Ratriam trilled. “What of the Smitherson clutch mates? From your own explanation, Ambassador, the runt couldn’t understand a simple order.”
“Marcus Smitherson is still a nymph, not a runt,” Hyutic grumbled. “Mammals don’t clutch, remember?”
Ratriam hissed, displeased the ambassador dared goad him again. He smoothed his uniform and ambled over to the window to gaze down at the planet below. “Nymph, adolescent, adult: it doesn’t change the fact it didn’t understand a plain command.”
“In either case, we aren’t dealing with Marcus Smitherson now,” Hyutic said. She lowered herself onto his office couch with a weary air. “Hear me, Commander. Ambassador Franklin is a shrewd man, and though Jaysen Smitherson is but an assistant, he has learned to read our postures and the nuances of our language. Neither Humans nor Zolacksians are as simple minded as you’d like to believe, and Ambassador Brexos’ ship will arrive in a matter of hours.”
“Yes, time is running short,” Ratriam agreed. “Come, we must finish these negotiations,” he spit the word like it was something foul, “and have the exchange agreement signed before they arrive.”
“Worried the Zolacksian representative will catch on to our motivations?”
Ratriam turned and stared the woman down. His talons itched to etch a lesson into the smug official’s exoskeleton.
“Dependence upon Zolacksian technology and maintenance is a humiliation I refuse to endure any longer,” he answered. “The fuzzballs might turn a blind eye to our acquisition of a few of their favorite pets, but they’ll wage war to protect their technological stranglehold.”
“Now you’re thinking!” Hyutic said, her voice taking on a lighter, pleased note. “But, if you wish negotiations to go well and with speed, you must remember the instinctual drives of the other parties.”
“What in Ra’uth’s name are you on about now?”
“Humans are pack animals,” Hyutic explained. “Their alphas won’t agree to an exchange they believe will endanger the pack.”
“Yes. So?”
“Will you let me finish?” Hyutic snapped, and her antennae straightened in agitation. The woman dropped all levity and took on a seriousness Ratriam could respect. “While they’ve begun to reason over the past few hundred generations, they’re still very reliant upon base instinct. Because of that, Jaysen Smitherson will spell the downfall of your plan if you do not control yourself, Commander.”
“One so young has such influence?” Ratriam huffed.
Hyutic gave an affirmative dip of her antennae. “As I said, they’ve begun to understand reason, and as such, they recognize the skills of their pack-mates,” she agreed. “Ambassador Franklin will consult with Smitherson on his reading of the proceedings before deciding.”
“And to obtain a pack of human engineers?”
“Keep your place in the back.” Hyutic’s voice dropped as she stood from her place on his couch. Raising herself up to her full height, the ambassador towered over Ratriam, and her voice took on a tone colder than the vacuum outside. “Control your posture and hold your words. Negotiations are the purview of the political cast, not the military. Understood, Commander?”
“Yes.” Ratriam held himself still, refusing to back down.
“Good.” Hyutic’s posture eased, and she sank back down into the half crouch she’d adopted after several months serving on the ship. “Remember that, and I’ll secure your engineers by the end of the day.”
Bad First Day
“So what happens if I press this button?” I asked.
Adelaide shrugged, back turned to me as she concentrated on keeping track of how many crates she’d counted. “Nothing,” she replied.
I pushed the button, grinning.
“It’s when you let go that things get nasty.”
“What?” My finger lifted off the button as I asked the question, and I didn’t even realize it.
In my defense, Adelaide should have led with that bit of information. She knows I’m the kind of person who can’t resist a big, threatening, red button. Who eggs someone like me on when it comes to stuff like this?
Warning klaxons sounded, and the ringing thump of latches releasing sent my heartbeat skittering. Adelaide turned then. Her hair slung outward, and her eyes were so wide you could see as much white as hazel. I heard the grind of gears and a painful hiss as the hatch’s seal broke, but it was the look on my big sister’s face that scared me.
“Madeline!” Adelaide yelped as she dashed toward the control station I was at. “You reckless twerp!”
“What do I do?”
Her hair whipped across her face, making her sputter so much I couldn’t understand what she yelled in response. Thankfully, the generational ships were built with kids like me in mind. When something went sideways, it was a pretty safe bet the emergency or backup controls would be lit up like a beacon, but you’ve got to be quick with it. That goes double when you’re about to be sucked out into space.
There was a button flashing yellow at the upper right of the control board, so I hit it. The grinding stopped, but the hissing was as bad as ever. I could still feel a vacuum tugging at me, and a glance over my shoulder revealed that while the hatch wasn’t opening now, it wasn’t closing either.
Adelaide skidded around the corner of the control panel and started hitting a sequence of controls faster than I’d ever seen her do anything. The hatch system ground back to life, and the pitch of our air hissing out into space rose until it hurt. The tugging was getting weaker instead of stronger though, so I wasn’t about to complain. I just covered my ears and waited for everything to go back to normal. Even then, the latch locking into place was loud, and it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
I jumped when another soft hiss started, but this one was coming from the life support vents overhead not the hatch behind us. Beside me, Adelaide clutched the control panel. I could see her arms shaking as bad as mine, and she was breathing hard.
“New rule,” she said between pants.
“Don’t touch anything?” I ventured.
Adelaide nodded. “Don’t touch anything.” She let go of the panel, stood up straight, and scraped her hair back out of her face. “And you’re job shadowing Josh from now on.”
“No fair!”
Adelaide shrugged, back turned to me as she concentrated on keeping track of how many crates she’d counted. “Nothing,” she replied.
I pushed the button, grinning.
“It’s when you let go that things get nasty.”
“What?” My finger lifted off the button as I asked the question, and I didn’t even realize it.
In my defense, Adelaide should have led with that bit of information. She knows I’m the kind of person who can’t resist a big, threatening, red button. Who eggs someone like me on when it comes to stuff like this?
Warning klaxons sounded, and the ringing thump of latches releasing sent my heartbeat skittering. Adelaide turned then. Her hair slung outward, and her eyes were so wide you could see as much white as hazel. I heard the grind of gears and a painful hiss as the hatch’s seal broke, but it was the look on my big sister’s face that scared me.
“Madeline!” Adelaide yelped as she dashed toward the control station I was at. “You reckless twerp!”
“What do I do?”
Her hair whipped across her face, making her sputter so much I couldn’t understand what she yelled in response. Thankfully, the generational ships were built with kids like me in mind. When something went sideways, it was a pretty safe bet the emergency or backup controls would be lit up like a beacon, but you’ve got to be quick with it. That goes double when you’re about to be sucked out into space.
There was a button flashing yellow at the upper right of the control board, so I hit it. The grinding stopped, but the hissing was as bad as ever. I could still feel a vacuum tugging at me, and a glance over my shoulder revealed that while the hatch wasn’t opening now, it wasn’t closing either.
Adelaide skidded around the corner of the control panel and started hitting a sequence of controls faster than I’d ever seen her do anything. The hatch system ground back to life, and the pitch of our air hissing out into space rose until it hurt. The tugging was getting weaker instead of stronger though, so I wasn’t about to complain. I just covered my ears and waited for everything to go back to normal. Even then, the latch locking into place was loud, and it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
I jumped when another soft hiss started, but this one was coming from the life support vents overhead not the hatch behind us. Beside me, Adelaide clutched the control panel. I could see her arms shaking as bad as mine, and she was breathing hard.
“New rule,” she said between pants.
“Don’t touch anything?” I ventured.
Adelaide nodded. “Don’t touch anything.” She let go of the panel, stood up straight, and scraped her hair back out of her face. “And you’re job shadowing Josh from now on.”
“No fair!”
Adventures in Childproofing
“Mum! He’s turned the gravity off again!”
Jada rolled her eyes as she snatched papers out of the air. “I noticed,” she grumbled, irritated by the work she’d have to redo. She used too much force and sent papers tumbling in every direction. Jada bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming as all hope of retrieving the file in some semblance of order evaporated.
“Reset the grav system now, Shawn, or so help me, I’ll make sure you’re locked out of every nonessential system on the ship for three months,” Jada said, raising her voice enough to carry through their living quarters.
She received a weak, “Yes, ma’am,” in reply.
Jada went through a mental checklist as she maneuvered herself as close to the floor as possible. She and Michael would have to rework the security measures yet again, and they’d have to figure out some other discipline option. While the threat of simple restriction proved a good motivator, it didn’t sting enough to stick in Shawn’s mind the next time temptation presented itself.
The rumble of thrusters firing signaled his obedience to her order. The ship’s inner hull eased into rotation again, creating a disorienting sensation of movement while everything appeared still. Even after a couple decades, Jada wasn’t sure if the sensation was real or a psychosomatic response to the knowledge of what was happening around her.
Her communicator dinged, and Jada groaned. “Please don’t be Commander Reynolds,” she mumbled to herself before answering the incoming call.
“The grav system,” Reynolds snapped over the line without so much as a greeting, “was that your boy again?”
“I’m afraid so, sir,” Jada answered.
“One month’s waste system management duty,” Reynolds said. “I don’t care if it’s you and Michael that do it or the boy, but I expect this to stop. Do I make myself clear, Ensign Marsters?”
“As crystal, sir.”
The line cut from Reynolds’ end as Jada and all the loose items around her settled back onto the floor and other surfaces. With all the furniture welded to the floors or walls and breakables limited, there wasn’t much damage done, at least in their quarters. Still, she’d have to add to the folder on childproofing recommendations they were to file upon reaching the colony.
“Shawn Alexander Marsters, get in here this instant,” Jada called. Sighing, she began picking up papers that’d ended up strewn all around their common room.
“I’m sorry, Mum,” Shawn murmured from the doorway a moment later.
“That’d be easier to believe if you didn’t keep doing this.”
Picking up the last bundle of papers from the sofa, Jada turned to face her son. He shifted from one foot to the other, and he seemed fascinated by the floor.
“One month restriction,” she said. “And since you’ll have so much free time to fill, you’ll be working waste system management with your father and me.”
“That’s not fair!” Shawn protested. Forgetting the sudden fascination with their living room floor, he looked up at his mother with wide-eyed indignation.
“Isn’t it?” Jada asked. “Your actions affected everyone on the ship, young man.” She shook the disorganized bunch of papers at him, and his eyes got impossibly wider as he recognized the thesis she’d been working on for the last half a year. “Who knows how much work you ruined with your selfish thoughtlessness? Did you even stop to think what kind of disasters you could cause for those in the infirmary and the things growing in the hydroponics bay?”
Shawn’s expression fell, and he paled. Lowering his gaze again, shame evident in his eyes, the preteen shook his head.
Jada closed her eyes and took a deep breath, counting to ten in her head as she let it out.
“You’re a smart boy, Shawn,” she said. “Too much for your own good sometimes.”
He flinched.
“You have to learn to consider the consequences of your actions before you make them,” Jada continued. “For you and for those around you. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jada rolled her eyes as she snatched papers out of the air. “I noticed,” she grumbled, irritated by the work she’d have to redo. She used too much force and sent papers tumbling in every direction. Jada bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming as all hope of retrieving the file in some semblance of order evaporated.
“Reset the grav system now, Shawn, or so help me, I’ll make sure you’re locked out of every nonessential system on the ship for three months,” Jada said, raising her voice enough to carry through their living quarters.
She received a weak, “Yes, ma’am,” in reply.
Jada went through a mental checklist as she maneuvered herself as close to the floor as possible. She and Michael would have to rework the security measures yet again, and they’d have to figure out some other discipline option. While the threat of simple restriction proved a good motivator, it didn’t sting enough to stick in Shawn’s mind the next time temptation presented itself.
The rumble of thrusters firing signaled his obedience to her order. The ship’s inner hull eased into rotation again, creating a disorienting sensation of movement while everything appeared still. Even after a couple decades, Jada wasn’t sure if the sensation was real or a psychosomatic response to the knowledge of what was happening around her.
Her communicator dinged, and Jada groaned. “Please don’t be Commander Reynolds,” she mumbled to herself before answering the incoming call.
“The grav system,” Reynolds snapped over the line without so much as a greeting, “was that your boy again?”
“I’m afraid so, sir,” Jada answered.
“One month’s waste system management duty,” Reynolds said. “I don’t care if it’s you and Michael that do it or the boy, but I expect this to stop. Do I make myself clear, Ensign Marsters?”
“As crystal, sir.”
The line cut from Reynolds’ end as Jada and all the loose items around her settled back onto the floor and other surfaces. With all the furniture welded to the floors or walls and breakables limited, there wasn’t much damage done, at least in their quarters. Still, she’d have to add to the folder on childproofing recommendations they were to file upon reaching the colony.
“Shawn Alexander Marsters, get in here this instant,” Jada called. Sighing, she began picking up papers that’d ended up strewn all around their common room.
“I’m sorry, Mum,” Shawn murmured from the doorway a moment later.
“That’d be easier to believe if you didn’t keep doing this.”
Picking up the last bundle of papers from the sofa, Jada turned to face her son. He shifted from one foot to the other, and he seemed fascinated by the floor.
“One month restriction,” she said. “And since you’ll have so much free time to fill, you’ll be working waste system management with your father and me.”
“That’s not fair!” Shawn protested. Forgetting the sudden fascination with their living room floor, he looked up at his mother with wide-eyed indignation.
“Isn’t it?” Jada asked. “Your actions affected everyone on the ship, young man.” She shook the disorganized bunch of papers at him, and his eyes got impossibly wider as he recognized the thesis she’d been working on for the last half a year. “Who knows how much work you ruined with your selfish thoughtlessness? Did you even stop to think what kind of disasters you could cause for those in the infirmary and the things growing in the hydroponics bay?”
Shawn’s expression fell, and he paled. Lowering his gaze again, shame evident in his eyes, the preteen shook his head.
Jada closed her eyes and took a deep breath, counting to ten in her head as she let it out.
“You’re a smart boy, Shawn,” she said. “Too much for your own good sometimes.”
He flinched.
“You have to learn to consider the consequences of your actions before you make them,” Jada continued. “For you and for those around you. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
To be continued....
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