Tag Archives: Webserial

Fiction Friday: Give It to the Engineer

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Ma’evoto strode through the clean room doors. He hadn’t felt so off balance since he started training as fighter, but the only sign of his discomfort was the off-beat rhythm his thumb tapped against the tips of his fingers.

Waiting for him was a woman who might have been the ultimate geek. Short cropped kinky hair paired with a long skirt of… indifferent style, and a sleeveless vest that gave full access to the sub-cutaneous circutry that crawled up her deep brown arms like tattoos. She had the far-off look of someone watching a retinal display. Probably display contacts. He knew she was a woman because her file said so—if it hadn’t he’d never have guessed. She didn’t wear a single triangle or star. Given geek culture that might be intentional or might be an oversight when she picked out her clothes.

The only thing that didn’t fit was the rabbit ears poking up out of her hair.

“Ms Malka.” He offered his hand

It took a moment, but her eyes slowly refocused. “Oh. Sorry.” She took his hand in both of hers. “Mr. Frederickson.”

“It’s Littlesun. Ma’evoto Littlesun” He tried to smile but it felt like more of a grimace. “I’m reclaiming my old name.”

“Oh. Sorry. Mr. Littlesun.” Her eyes darted around the room, and finally settled on something behind his left shoulder. “Um… I’m a bit confused. About why I’m here, I mean. And why this is here. I mean, top level clean room in government headquarters. That’s… like out of a thriller novel. And I’m kinda bottom tier over at ISA so really shouldn’t you be meeting with one of the…” she trailed off. Probably had been about to use a nickname the political appointees at the space administration wouldn’t like. Ma’evoto grinned.

“Please, don’t stop on my account. I have some less than flattering names for your superiors myself.”

Her mouth snapped shut. Opened. Closed. “Ah… well I don’t mean to suggest they are bad people you understand.” She was babbling now. “Not the best engineers maybe, but they know their jobs and they really are… I mean you don’t need to… that is…”

“Relax, Ms Malka. I’m not going after your colleagues. Some of them will moving to new jobs soon, but I’m not looking to make any more examples. One should be enough, don’t you think?”

“Ah. Yes.” She swallowed.

“Good.” He started the room’s standalone comp and inserted a filechip. “As for why there’s a top tier clean room in government headquarters—mainly to be sure there is one place in the damn building where people can’t be spied on.

“Take a look at this.”

A hologram sprang to life, a spherical space station with one large door and a number of smaller ports. Specs and calculations surrounded the main image.

Malka leaned in. “Nickle iron? An asteroid base? But what about… Oh, I see. Interesting.

“I didn’t take you for a fan Mr. Littlesun. But this looks like something out of Troy Rising. And if you are going to be that ambitious, why not the Death Star?”

“Because we have a chance—barely—of finishing this in two years. And both the old NASA engineers who dreamed this up and the author who wrote Troy Rising understood the importance of little things like having blast doors across your exhaust ports.”

By the time he finished speaking, Malka’s eyes were glazed again. “Two years. The engineering challenges alone…”

“You don’t need to worry about anything else. Funding, bureaucrats, politics—forget about it. Handle the engineering. I’ll see that everything else is taken care of. That’s not a license to spend money. But first priority is making it work, second priority is making it safe. Money is third.”

“It’s doable. Maybe. With the right team.” She hesitated. Refocused. “How will the team be chosen?”

Ma’evoto leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. The movement hid his sigh of relief. She was onboard. “Anyone at ISA that you want is yours. If there are outside people you need, put a list together and I’ll see what can be done. They’ll need to get security clearance same as everyone else at ISA. Don’t waste my time suggesting people you know won’t pass.”

There was a knock at the door. Right on time. He opened the door to let Deborah in. “One last thing. This is Deborah Wirth. She’s been in charge of my magical security, but she’ll be transferring to work on the battlestation as soon as your team is up and running. She’ll have her own team for integrating mystic defenses and other mumbo jumbo into the station.”

This time Malka’s mouth flopped open. “But… but… no one has ever made magic and technology work together.”

“That,” he smiled, “is an engineering problem.”

Deborah muttered something—he couldn’t hear what. A moment later, Malka’s bunny-ears started twitching.

Friday Fiction: The Toughest Battle (Yet)

First entry          Previous entry

The triumphant heroes took their bows and the screen faded to black. Wu shook zir head. “That was…”

“Classic.” Trevor spoke quietly, trying not to wake the child curled up in his lap.

“Not the word I was looking for. And I’m not sure how it got on your ‘Evil Overlord’ list. That trash compactor was never intended as a death trap.”

“Come on, the explosions? The laser beams you could see? The aerodynamic starships? You don’t see vids like this anymore.”

“For which blessing, I will make a large donation to the next artistic fundraiser that hits you up for money.”

“Ha.”

Trevor shifted, preparing to stand.

“Would you like me to take them to bed?”

Trevor shook his head and pushed himself up out of the person-eating couch. Ho’neheso stirred, opening their eyes to look at him a moment before snuggling back into his arms. “You’ve stood in for me too often the last few years. I’m grateful, but Ho’neheso needs me to step up and be their father again.”

Wu followed him as he carried them carefully to their new—and well protected—bedroom. “You never asked them to change their name.”

“No.” Trevor laid his child on their bed and pulled the covers up. “They lost so much already. As long as I could keep them hidden and out of the limelight…”

“And what of you? You no longer need to hide who you are.” They started back down the hallway towards Trevor’s rooms. “Taking an Anglo name made sense when you wanted to move unnoticed in North America. Even with the First Nations reclaiming so much of their land, Anglo is still the ‘norm’ north of Mexico.”

Trevor grunted. Wu only stated the obvious when zi was building towards something big.

“You will be remaking the world in a new image. As you once remade yourself. But is Trevor Frederickson the man who should be remaking the world? Or Ma’evoto?”

“Does it matter? I’m me, whatever I call myself.”

Wu shook zir head. “Deborah has some interesting things to say on the importance and meaning of names. And I believe some of the First Nations have similar beliefs.”

Trevor let himself collapse on his bed. ”Wu… just drop it. I can’t think about this right now.”

Wu said nothing. Trevor’s thoughts circled endlessly. Setting up ‘Trevor’ as a fake identity. The last time his saw his father. The day he read his obituary. The… No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t push the pain and the memories away. A sob caught in his throat.

With hard learned patience, he steadied his breathing. I control nothing if I cannot control myself. Stepped back from the painful memories and watched them. Looking for the meaning that tied them together. The belief behind the pain.

“Ma’evoto is dead,” he finally whispered, “They named him dead and did the rites. I walked away from that name, from that life. I killed him. There is nothing to go back to.”

“We live in an age of magic. Your servant would be honored to find a necromancer to resurrect him.”

“Ha. Ha.”

Wu knelt beside him, hand outstretched. Trevor sat up and rested a hand on Wu’s head. “What would you ask?”

“Only this. Does your soul does bleed for the loss of who you were? Tell your servant it does not and I swear by the heavens I will never speak of it again.”

“I…” Trevor couldn’t say it. “I can’t answer that.”

Wu’s head bowed further, hir hand pulled back to hir heart. “As you will.”

Trevor’s fingers tapped against the bed, quick and discordant. Never before had he refused Wu an answer. It was his right. But he had never…

He pushed himself up and began pacing the room. On his third circuit, Wu stood.
“With permission,” the dragon said, “your servant will retire for the night.”

Pacing wasn’t helping. The buzzing in his head grew worse. “Yes, go.” Another circuit before Wu reached the door. Quickening his steps brought him to the door as Wu opened it. “I’m sorry.”

Wu bowed. “Your servant will do all zi can. But I cannot fight your demons for you.”

“No.” Trevor smiled. “Zi can only precipitate the battle.” He stepped back from the door. “You can go if you want. But I would rather have you with me while I fight them.”

Wu closed the door. “Then I will stay.”

Fiction Friday: Let’s Make a Deal

First Entry                Previous Entry

Trevor watched silently as Kasmir Teufel hurried—it wouldn’t quite do to say that he fled—the office. Filling Kasmir’s place in the government hierarchy would be difficult, but Trevor hadn’t even tried to convince him to stay.

Let the scared ones go, Wu had said, forcing them to work with you will only lead to problems.

So Kasmir would get a generous retirement bonus and a chance to escape.

After a few minutes, Wu escorted in Narges Khoroushi, the head bureaucrat for Arcane Persons and Artifacts.

She walked stiffly, her starburst earrings chiming with each step. Trevor examined the rest of her ensemble. She wore a simple white cap covering her head that contrasted with her dark brown skin and curled black hair. Her pants were dark with intricate floral embroidery climbing half way to the knees. A robed upper garment that fell to mid thigh and mimicked the embroidery around the cuffs. Together, her outfit gave an impression somewhere between an active or relaxed lifestyler. An impression Trevor knew was false. There was nothing ‘relaxed’ about her.

She stopped a few steps from his desk. “Fredrickson.”

Keep the evil ones close to you, had been the second part of Wu’s divination. ‘Evil,’ Trevor thought, was a flexible concept. But Wu said that in this case, it meant those who would cause or force division. Which fit Khoroushi to a T.

“Thanks for coming so promptly. Please, sit, have a snack.”

On cue, Wu returned with a tray of finger foods.

She glared at him. “There is no need for courtesy between us. Say your piece and have done with it.”

“I want you to step down from APA.”

She sniffed. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I can’t put you on the team that is going to be restructuring the World Peace Force.”

Her eyes widened.

Trevor leaned back in his chair and sighed. “You heard about Winehurst?”

She jerked her head.

“He was… typical of our so-called ‘peacekeepers.’ We need a military, with an emphasis on marines and space forces.” She opened her mouth but he rolled over her. “We don’t need a bunch of bullies and jackboots who use chemical weapons on protesters and demonstrations.”

Khoroushi pursed her lips. “You watched my speeches.”

“We were enemies.” He smiled. “I try to know my enemies.”

“We are enemies. And if I’d been more willing to support… harsh measures against your street mobs you might not be sitting in that chair right now.” She leaned in, anger glinting in her eyes. “And you know damn well that not all of your engineered protests were peaceful.”

“You and I both know your colleagues’ personal cowardice is the reason my butt is in this chair. The protests,” he waved out to windows, “helped me build grassroots support to take power without instant chaos or rebellions erupting. All the arrests, and beatings, and chemical attacks did was prove to my supporters that I was right. The World Government was a corrupt oligarchy in service of the elites. And don’t tell me you were democratically elected. When a full third of the world’s population couldn’t vote there was nothing democratic about it.”

“Monsters.” It was quietly stated, without the venom most people would imbue in the word, but no less hateful for that.

“No. People. My people. And one way or another, I am removing you from power over them. But I’d rather smoke the pipe with you than toss you out a window.” He smiled again. “If nothing else the repairs will get expensive after a while.”

“Ha!” She looked at him for the first time with interest. “So you’ll let me fix the problems with the peacekeepers if I buy into your revolution.”

“Not buy in. Just stop fighting me.”

She said nothing for a full two minutes. Trevor waited. Then she sat down across from him. “Tell me how this brainstorm of yours will work. And why you think we need a military at all.”

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Fiction Friday: Why Communication Is a Good Thing

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In the silence only excellent soundproofing could create, the quiet rustle of reeds was stunningly loud.

Trevor watched as Wu passed the dried stalks from hand to hand. Zi placed them on the floor in from of zir, a few at a time. Then set a handful aside before picking up the rest to start again.

Stillness had never come naturally to Trevor, but he held himself as still as possible. Only his fingers moved, tapping out a soothing rhythm on the seam of his skirt.

Finally, zir placed the last handful aside and closed zir eyes.

He’d watched Wu cast zir reeds dozens of times over the years. He’d never completely shaken the edge of fear it brought him. And tonight, the night of their first great victory, the fear was worse than ever. He had good people behind him. But he couldn’t do this without Wu beside him.

Wu opened zir eyes and smiled. “We have danger, but also opportunity.”
Trevor sighed, tension running out of him. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “We?”

Wu bowed, zir shoulders drawing inward. “Forgive this presumptuous one. Your servant only meant— your servant would not lay claim to what is rightly yours.”
“What?” Shocked, Trevor knelt beside the dragon. “Oh, damnit, Wu, I didn’t mean…”

Wu looked at him, and Trevor could see the confusion and hurt in zir gaze.

“I’m afraid of losing you.” Trevor reached out and took Wu’s hand, rubbing a finger across the braided ring zi hadn’t removed in over 10 years. “When you gave yourself to me, you said…”

“Your servant said many things. Do you doubt them now?”

“No! No,” He took a deep breath. “But… I guess I just didn’t believe that I wouldn’t need to pay a price for winning today.”

“Trevor.” Wu’s hand cupped his cheek. “Talk sense or I’m going to put you to bed and call a healer.”

“Your first loyalty, you said, would always be to your ’path of heaven’ or whatever it is.”

“And you thought… what? That I would leave? Now?”

“If your Heavens called you, yes. Of course you would.”

Wu sat back and covered zir mouth. Zir eyes sparkled. And every once in a while a strangled laugh slipped through their fingers.

Trevor didn’t see the joke.

“That… That’s not how it works.” Wu said finally.

Trevor leaned forward and tapped Wu’s knee. “What’s not how it works?”

“The Heavens…” Wu took a deep breath and fought down zir laughter. “They aren’t like Deborah’s God, Trevor. They don’t issue commands or expect people to serve them. They… they are. Their path is the path of righteousness. Of right conduct. Not… whatever you have been thinking.”

For a moment, Trevor was completely still.“…you mean I’ve spent over a decade worrying that one day you’d up and leave on some kind of divine marching orders for nothing?”

“Apparently.” Zir lips quirked.

“Are you smirking at me?”

“No.”

Zi was most definitely smirking at him.

“Where in the world did you get that idea anyway?”

Trevor glared. “Wu, I conquered the world on the basis of a prophecy and a vision quest. Over half the magic workers and soothsayers in the world support me, a good majority of them because they got some kind of divine marching orders from whatever it is they follow. You have not once in over a decade talked about your beliefs or faith or whatever it is you follow except to say, on the day I took your oath, that your first loyalty was to this path of heaven… thing. What did you expect me to think?”

“Oh.” The humor drained from zir face.

“It was pretty obvious you didn’t want to talk about your culture or past, and I respected that. I didn’t go researching Chinese belief systems behind your back or digging into your family and background. I figured you’d tell me if you wanted to. But… damnit, Wu…”

“Oh.”

This time Wu gave him a full bow, face pressed to the floor, hands clasped behind zir back. “Your servant most humbly begs forgiveness for zir foolishness. Your servant has… reasons for not speaking of things past. But your servant owes you the knowledge you need to make full use of your servant. And… your servant regrets, bitterly, the pain zir foolishness caused.”

Trevor grabbed a fistful of Wu’s hair and pulled zir head up. A frisson of energy danced along his nerves, stronger because of the fear and frustration which had come before. He knew why he took such pleasure in control. Knew also how dangerous it was for a man who had set himself up as a dictator and tyrant. But he and Wu had shared this bond almost since the day they met. He wasn’t giving it up unless he had to.

“Let me be sure that this time I understand.

“Your path of heaven is a guide for your actions. A code of ethics or moral strictures.

“You have given yourself to me, and there is no person, entity, being or god that can make you leave me. But your path of heaven comes before your loyalty to me, and if I tell you to do something that violates your code, you will disobey.”

He gave Wu’s head a little shake. The dragon winced but remained passive under his hand.

“Do I have that right?”

“Yes, you are correct.”  Wu swallowed. When zi spoke, zir voice shook. “Only at your word will your servant leave.” Wu met his eyes for a moment, then looked down again.

“Wu…” he released the dragon’s hair and cupped zir chin. “Do you really think I would cast you off over this?”

“No.” Zi swallowed again. “No. But one day you will learn of your servant’s past. And I fear that day.”

Trevor’s fingers tapped on his thigh, but this time the rhythm didn’t sooth. “We will deal with that day when it comes. But I can’t imagine anything from the past that would change how I feel.” He’d killed a man today because Winehurst was no longer useful to him and couldn’t be trusted not to interfere. What in Wu’s past could be so horrible zi feared to tell Trevor?

Trevor pushed the question away. It was for the future, and this was now. He pulled Wu up and into a hug. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay.” They held each other for several minutes until Trevor said. “Now, tell me about your divination.”

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Fiction Fridays: That’s Some Retirement Plan…

First Entry          Previous Entry

Trevor watched the crowds hundreds of feet below. Folks on the fringes were trickling away, but most weren’t going anywhere.

Give it a couple hours of (hopefully) nothing happening, and anyone not completely dedicated to whatever had brought them here would start to move along. His supporters, at least, had mostly set their signs and amplifiers to automatic and were plugging into the ‘net, to get some real work done. Wu came up to stand beside him.

“General Winehurst wants to speak with you.”

Trevor sighed. “Might as well get it over with. Send him in.”

Wu bowed and left. Trevor turned away from the window to survey what would become his official office. Three cream-colored walls, bare of decoration, and one wall of windows rose 15 ft a ceiling that had been painted with a mural of the world and its peoples. Or at least, it’s human peoples. The floor…

Winehurst burst in before he had finished the survey.

“We did it! I told you my men were the ones for the job.” Winehursts milk-pale face glowed with excitement and the disgusting gender-erasing phrase slipped naturally between his lips.

Trevor smiled and took the general’s hand in both of his. “You did, and they did. Your people have done us all proud.

“So when do we start cleaning up?”

“Why, now, actually.” He tightened his grip, making the general wince. “I am delighted to accept your resignation general, dated immediately. You assassination and leg-breaking teams were invaluable in creating this new world, and I know you want to rest from your labors.”

Winehurst tried to pull away, but he had trained with weapons 30 years ago. Trevor trained in hand-to-hand twice weekly with Wu. He couldn’t beat a real fighter—he hadn’t kept in real training for over ten years himself. But the general wasn’t escaping him by main strength.

“What! No. Damnit we talked about this. You promised me a chance to rebuild the military make it a real fighting force again! Let go, damn it!”

Trevor timed his release so the general lost his balance, stumbling backward and nearly tripping over Wu and Deborah. Deborah wore the distant look Trevor was used to seeing when she called on her God. Wu was focused on Winehurst.

“I have every intention of keeping my promise, general. But I’m afraid you and I have very different ideas of what a “real” fighting force will look like. My idea does not look like the murders, bullies, and abusers you’ve gathered around you to abuse and extort civilian populations. It looks like a military force. With discipline and a purpose.

“So I suggest you take your retirement bonus and go. You won’t get a better offer.”

Winehurst strode towards Trevor, getting in his face and trying to loom over him. “I’m the only military office you’ve got. Without me, you can’t hold the troops. And without the troops, your brown ass will be dead before the week is out. You may be the one with the big chair, but you don’t scare me.”

“I see. Well, I admit I was warned that even if you took retirement you’d be likely to try to… meddle. Better to have everything out in the open, then.”

“Darn right I would. Now let’s talk salary.”

“Of course.” Trevor stepped back, giving way to the general. A hand behind the general’s elbow turned him toward one of the conference tables. Then the grip shifted, and the elbow lock forced Winehurst to keep moving until he walked with into—and through—the glowing 30-story window that should have held up to a shoulder-fired SAM. And had before Deborah’s cast her spell.

Winehurst screamed all the way down, of course. Trevor sighed. “Goodbye general. I told you you wouldn’t get a better offer.”

One of the security gryphons winged down to hover before the window. “Sir?”

“I’m fine. However, we need to up our weapon search procedures.” Trevor shook his head. “I don’t know what he thought he was doing, attacking me with Wu and Deborah right here. And please order a cleanup crew for the sidewalk.”

Deborah came to stand beside him and looked down at the splattered remains of the general.

“Thank you, Deborah. That was quick thinking.” Trevor shook his head. But was it necessary?

Gevurah,” she said. “It was justice.”

“Was it?” Trevor heard himself ask.

Wu put a hand on his shoulder, “Honored friend, not all the deaths on our hands will be just ones. But your servant has seen his work first hand. Even if he had accepted your offer, he would have continued doing harm to many. This death was indeed just.

“And having it known that you can defend yourself against attack at need? Your honored servant will sleep much better at night knowing that your enemies will know you are no easy target.”

With the window gone, the noise of the crowds, now punctuated by screams and shouts, came to him clearly. He looked down at them and waved, doing his best to show them that he was alive and unharmed. Camdrones zoomed towards him. “Wu, deal with those please.” He turned his back on the broken window and sat at the desk he had done so much to claim.

“I have work to do.”

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Fiction Friday: Gu– Dragon!

First entry

The hundred-person security team hit the steel doors and spread through the first floor of the 50 story building. It looked like it had been choreographed because it had. Hundreds of hours drilling in a virtual mock-up. Behind and above them came the dragons and gryphons who secured the airspace before and delivered additional security personnel on the World Government Building roof in a well-coordinated relay.

As he stepped out of his armored and shielded air car, Trevor wondered again why no had come up with a more original name for it.

Wu, in late 20th Century grunge, flanked him, scanning the gathering crowds. Dissatisfaction with the former world government was high, but it only took one person willing to become a martyr. Behind him, hidden by her sheer tininess, he heard Deborah’s quiet chanting as she evoked the NAMES of her God to bring peace and safety. A half dozen strides and the security team called the first floor clear as he stepped through the door.

Gunshot!

Trevor dropped to the ground. Forty feet of golden dragon suddenly surrounded him. Just outside the coils, words of fire hung in the air, trapping the bullet. Deborah said something and the words faded, taking the bullet with them.

“Hold here,” Wu hissed. Trevor wasn’t going to argue. Going further into the building for cover meant walking into a possible ambush. Going back to the street would be foolish.

He, Wu, and Deborah held position while security scrambled. Within minutes, the shooter was found and quarantined. More time passed, long enough that crowd came out of their shock and started getting loud. Security called an all-clear.

Wu shimmered, his golden scales fading and reforming into the human-seeming Trevor was familiar with. Wearing the ancient garments Wu called “hanfu.” Why always hanfu when he transformed? And what happened to the grunge gear?

Pushing aside the inanities, Trevor examined the groups of people gathered around him.

Outside the building were citizens and magical beings, most local, a few from other parts of the world. Protesters, mostly ‘human’ citizens, on one side. Supporters, mostly magical beings, on the other. Both groups increasingly agitated.

Inside the building, he saw humans and perhaps a few in human-seeming. Uncertainty, fear, resentment, and a surprising amount of relief.

His own people were split, Some remained outside to help with crowd control. Some followed him prepared to spread out and start the worked they’d spent a decade preparing for. And the security teams were everywhere—or trying to be.

Hovering camdrones waited just outside the legal privacy limit. It was as good a moment as any. He waved the drones forward and signaled Deborah. She stepped back, blending in with the surrounding government bureaucrats and staff.

“Not how I wanted to start my first day on the job, but first days tend to be shit anyway.

“All of you,” he took in the bureaucrats, “are probably wondering what to expect. There are going to be a lot of changes, and you aren’t going to like some of them. But I hope some of them you will like. For now, keep doing your jobs and focus on making sure food and energy keep moving to the people who need them. You’ll have plenty of time to gawk at me later. Promise.”

He refocused on the cams. ”To my supporters outside: thank you and go home. We have a lot of work to do, so don’t wear yourself out here. The real fight hasn’t begun yet.

“To the protesters, I’m not going to silence you. I’m not going to arrest you. I’m not going to attack you. As long as you stick to making noise in the street, you can knock yourselves out.” He paused. Then deliberately pulled his hair back into the style still sometimes called a “warrior’s braid”—as if warriors only had one hairstyle. When he finished, he relaxed into a loose fighting stance, letting the lines of his pants emphasize his readiness for action.

“Any of you thinking that rebellion or armed resistance might be a good idea—back down now. Or you’ll join your friend with the gun.”

As he finished speaking security called in to report the upper levels clear.

“For real this time?”

“Ah… yes, sir. For real this time.”

“Good.”

He signed forward and he, Wu, and the rest of the team that had gathered behind them moved for the lifts.

It was going to be a long day.

Next Entry

Friday Fiction: The List

<—Introduction

Trevor Frederickson, who sometimes managed to forget for hours at a time that he had once been Ma’evoto of the Cheyenne, leaned back. The chair leaned with him, reconfiguring automatically. The holographic display shifted as well, so he could continue reading without interruption. “ ‘All naive, busty tavern wenches…’ whoever heard of a naive bar server?” A flick of his finger deleted the paragraph. “ ‘All non-instantaneous deathtraps…’ really? Note.” A new holographic screen popped up, adding a bluish-sheen to his bronze skin. “Wu, research old vids with drowning pools, trash compactors and/or gas chambers for next month’s marathon. Send.” The second screen winked out. “There’s gotta be something behind that one. Okay what’s next. “ ‘All slain enemies will be cremated as soon as possible…’ um, doh. Necromancers are rare, but annoying…” He skimmed down the next few entries. “1.45 MB file size? Padded? … oh, here’s a good one. Note,” another screen opened, “first level priority, hire architects and surveyors I can trust to make sure I have accurate blue prints of the…”

Light flickered at the corner of his eye. “Yes?”

“Sir, Mx. Lu is here to speak with you.”

He sat up, the chair following a few moments later. “Send hir in!”

The handle on the old fashioned door opened and Wu stepped in. The man in behind the desk allowed himself a rare moment of procrastination. It was always worth taking a moment to look at Lu Jia Wu.

Wu was a small person with what zi said were “classic” Han features. It was a matter of pride that hir family were the true inheritors of the Middle Kingdom. Trevor doubted that the scattering of golden scales across Wu’s face was really “classic,” but they turned hir already handsome face into a work of art. Or, at least, Trevor thought so. Wu’s dress, as always, was antique and androgynous. Today zi was wearing what zi called a “man’s Western business suit”. Like the scales, Trevor was pretty sure the pale yellow color wasn’t part of the ‘classic’ style. But it made a delicate contrast with Wu’s warm beige skin. In the modern world, the blatant lack of geometrics was a declaration of Wu’s lack of gender. Though Trevor was never quite sure—

Wu cleared his throat.

“Yes, I’m delaying.”

Zi bowed, but kept hir eyes on him. “May this humble one give hir report?”

“Kay-kay, I’ll be good! Just tell me we have good news.”

“Your servant has the best of news. They have conceded. As of 1142 Greenwich you are officially the ruler of the world. May your reign last 1,000 years.”

“We did it!” He ran across the room and Wu caught him a bear hug.

“You did, my friend. You led the way and won the prize.” Wu’s voice rasped in his ear, heavy with grief and memories. “Even when this one thought it impossible, you persevered.”

“Not alone, Wu. And I couldn’t have done it without you at my side. And everyone else at my back.” He stepped back. “Kay. We planned for this. Is everyone ready?”

“Of course. The transition team is prepared, notification has gone out to all team leaders, and this one has confirmation that the military is standing down, awaiting your orders. We move at your word.”

“Perfect!” Trevor threw a formal robe with interlinking black-and-red circles on over his casual office outfit. “Let’s go.” Halfway to the door he froze and dashed back to his chair. “Computer, order poster-sized print out, framed, of edited document ‘Evil Overlord list’.”

A yellow ‘acknowledged’ light blinked.

“Now I’m ready.”

“Evil overlord list?”

“It’s for my new office. Something to entertain visitors.” Wu just looked at him. “You’ll like it I promise!”

Wu sighed. Zi tapped the sigil temp-branded on hir wrist. “All units, move out.”

They left the office. Five minutes later a convoy emerged from the underground bunker, headed for the headquarters of the World Government.

Next scene–>

Introducing Fiction Fridays: How NOT to Save the World

Okay, the blog is branching out a bit.

For a number of reasons (largely related to my time and spoons) I’ve been slowly adding my fiction work to Polyamory on Purpose. Because keeping up the marketing for two websites and two blogs is for people with WAY more time and energy than me.

As the next step in merging my two online personas, I’m adding some regular fiction to this blog. This fiction will be in addition to posts about polyamory and won’t count towards posting goals for Patreon. (Unless people want it to, bc I’m totally down for people supporting my fiction as well as my non-fiction ;D )

Starting next week, I’ll be posting scenes from a new web serial on Fridays. This is a story I’ve been wanting to write for a couple years but always thought was most suited to an episodic format than my usual short stories or novels. It’s got an evil overlord, a kinky polyamorous dragon, a truly diverse cast of characters, and an impending alien invasion.

How NOT to Save the World

They are a plucky band of rebels, fighting against a tyrant who overthrew the rightful government and is supported by an army of monsters. The only problem? They think they’re the good guys.

They are family, grandmother and granddaughter. Students of Kabbalah in a world where someone could really create the Golem of Prague. They are done sitting back while injustice takes place around them. The only problem? They’re on opposite sides.

They’re just a kid, trying to figure out who they are and where they fit in this crazy world their father just took over. And their new mentor is trying to kill their father. The only problem? Everything!

They are coming to usher humanity into a new galactic society. They have the best of intentions, amazing technology to sell us, and know exactly what will fix all our problems. The only problem? If someone doesn’t stop them, they are going to destroy the world.

He has a prophecy foretelling his success, a dragon sidekick, and plans for the biggest battle station ever built. He’s going to save the world. The only problem? He’s the bad guy.

Start reading: