The First Mission

I was trying to write this episode before my Prompt Request but ysabetwordsmith's second prompt told me what the antagonists were doing, which is why this is way over the stated length.

Amanda began her working morning by giving Maired a guided tour of the facility, satisfying her need to know about power conduits, the emergency sprinklers and the water and waste pipes.  The early morning gym users were having breakfast and Gavin was cleaning up in the gym.  Dennis and Gwaiva had taken their coffee and retreated to the computer room to “look over the early morning feeds.”

“You know,” commented Mannix, “I don’t know what she thinks but I don’t think he’s moved beyond, ‘Gwaiva speaks tech!’  Does anyone think he realises she’s an attractive girl?”

“Einar Haraldsson,” Cheryl’s screech from the balcony outside Einar’s bedroom cut off any answer.  “What is this mess?  I can’t vacuum your floor if everything you own is on it!”  The blond, seven foot tall frost giant put down his fork with a guilty expression and hurried up to his room while the others watched, slightly surprised at his reaction.  As he went in his door Cheryl added crisply, “If that’s dirty washing, it’s not going to take itself to the laundry!”

Later, back at the table to finish his breakfast Einar explained to Calhoun, “But she is scarier than my mother – she’s smaller so all that fierceness is more concentrated!”

Brise was listening to someone else.  “I find the construction of this team interesting,” Maired told her quietly as they sipped their tea.  “The choice of archetypes as well as the skill sets.  There’s someone missing, of course.”

“That’s a conversation for another day,” Amanda said briskly to her as she emerged from the computer room.  “There’s a job on.  This is what you get paid for, people.”

Inside the computer room a large screen took up most of one wall from seated eye height up.  From it a mature man of military bearing, his background a computer room like their own spoke, “Our city has been infiltrated by a group of interest.”

The picture on the screen split in two, one half still showing the speaker and the other showing security footage of five men, each carrying a black case, leaving the arrivals area of the international airport.  The camera view switched to the external taxi rank where, despite being part of a group, each man took a separate taxi.  Then the picture switched to one still of one man taken from a video sequence they’d just seen.  “Your task is to apprehend this man.  The others have each been assigned to one of the other teams with Team Three held in reserve.  It is preferred that you do not cause him permanent damage.”

“He’s a Knight of the Sun,” pointed out Bolt quietly.  “They’re all Knights of the Sun.  You can tell by that shrunken cloak brooch they’re wearing as a badge.”

“So they’re agents of the Lord of the Summer Isle?”  That was from Brise who looked as if her own words made her a very unhappy blonde quarter-harpy.

“Not necessarily,” Bolt was still quiet and considered.  “According to the briefing I got when I first ran into them, they support him but have been known to act proactively and independently on his behalf.  Third parties have occasionally taken steps to rein in their...militancy.”

“Yes,” agreed their onscreen briefer, “they could well be acting without the Lord of the Summer Isle’s knowledge.  Whatever they’re up to, we need them gathered in as soon as possible.  Particularly if they don’t want to be.  Fortunately we have your target’s initial destination from the taxi company.”

Emerging from the briefing ten minutes later, Calhoun commented to Amanda, “So there are five other teams like ours.  Who’s in them?”  That was followed, almost as a throw away line, by, “Why six teams?”

“Six like the sides of a snow flake,” said Cheryl as she went past with a bucket of cleaning equipment and promptly flushed bright red.

“Actually, from what I know of the elf, that could be exactly it,” replied Maired thoughtfully.  She gave Cheryl a look that was sharp but not at all unfriendly.

They caught up with their prey on the northern side of the inner harbour.  The solidly built, olive skinned man tried to throw his black case into the water when they cornered him, cursing solidly in Spanish, Latin and something unfamiliar when Brise caught it before it hit the water, trailing her feet through the water as the down beat of her wings took her and the case up again.

Hladvic, Gwaiva and Maired agreed that the case wasn’t trapped so Hladvic carefully opened it while Einar and Calhoun restrained the prisoner who was struggling to variations of, “I am Tabnit, Knight of the Sun.  Unhand me, ingrate peasants!” Inside the case was divided into six compartments.  Three were empty.  The remaining three compartments each held a dark, round object with a runic-looking script incised into it.”

“Those are magical,” announced Maired.  “Let me have a better look.”  The other two made room for her as she knelt down beside the open case.  The small-boned woman muttered something under her breath as she held her open hand over the three objects.  “Well, these three aren’t active.”  She carefully picked one up to look at it more carefully.  “It looks like, no, it is a hunting lure.”

“That doesn’t sound very sporting,” Mannix and Brise were standing watch to keep the public away while Vasa was bringing up the van, but Mannix was close enough to hear Maired and comment.

“They’re not,” agreed the wizard, “they’re for when you’re starving or you’re after a dangerous predator.  I’ve seen them used on man-eaters in Africa and Siberia.  This is unusual though.”  She tapped a portion of the writing.  “This script picked up some Egyptian influence so proper nouns and names go in cartouches.  Normally it would just have deer or wolf or tiger here.  This has a name.”

Tabnit the prisoner froze at her words.

“Oh?”  Calhoun pulled out a knife as he regarded his suddenly still prisoner with a professional eye.

“Slivvas?”  Maired paused, and then shook her head.  “I don’t know it.”

“The sea serpent?”  That was Einar, shocked.

“It’s supposed to frozen in ice at the far end of-,” Gwaiva whipped out her mobile phone and pressed a button.  “Dennis, I need you to look for anything about big chunks of ice breaking off the Antarctic ice shelves.  Probably no further back than when the elf took over the city.  I’ll wait on the line.”

“Sea serpent?”  Mannix was cautious.

“A creature long enough to wrap itself around a frost giant long ship and smash it to pieces,” explained Einar grimly, tightening his grip on the prisoner, “and still be longer than the ship it was attacking.”

“So maybe not a danger to modern ocean-going ships but dangerous to pleasure craft, fishing boats, dhows and that sort of thing?”  That was Mannix, extrapolating.

“It used to raid coastal villages,” added Gwaiva and Einar nodded in agreement.  “That’s why the ice elves co-operated with the frost giants to trap it.”

“And they’re calling it here?”  Brice’s waving indicated the city and suburbs around them.

Tabnit had begun to smirk as they’d begun to realise what he’d been doing, “You’ll never find-.”  He froze again as Calhoun’s knife slit his jacket and shirt up his back from behind.

“Hold still and I may not cut the skin when I do the pants, you bastard,” Calhoun was snarling, urbanity gone.  “Let’s see what else you’re carrying, right now.  Sorry ladies, but he lost all right to public privacy when he started planting a weapon of mass destruction.”

It was a long afternoon and a long evening before all of the Knights of the Sun and their toys were rounded up.  Two of Knights were in hospital after resisting apprehension, two no longer had their own clothing and one had been delivered into centralised detention hogtied to a pole. 

None of the Knights had co-operated in the recovery of the lures and one was too concussed to be coherent no matter what he wanted to do.  Each of the lures could be held in an adult human hand and they had had to track down seventeen of them.  Magic had helped as had knowing where each man had been found and where he’d been dropped off by his taxi but they’d still needed emu parades and divers to cover the territory.  It was nearly midnight when the last lure was recovered from a grease trap behind a suburban shopping centre three suburbs inland from either the harbour or the coast.

Tom the cook had supper waiting for the team when they returned to the base and Gavin was awake to help them stow their equipment before they cleaned up and ate.  Cheryl, who was sleeping, would have noted that there was no snoring to be heard.

Eating before falling into bed, Mannix commented, “It worries me that their first reaction to what the elf is doing, and I admit I don’t understand the ins and outs of these Accords yet, is a weapon of mass destruction.”

“They are loyal fanatics,” Bolt shrugged as he ate.

“They started with a weapon of mass destruction,” clarified Hladvic, “so where do they go next?”

The First Mission

I was trying to write this episode before my Prompt Request but ysabetwordsmith's second prompt told me what the antagonists were doing, which is why this is way over the stated length.

Amanda began her working morning by giving Maired a guided tour of the facility, satisfying her need to know about power conduits, the emergency sprinklers and the water and waste pipes.  The early morning gym users were having breakfast and Gavin was cleaning up in the gym.  Dennis and Gwaiva had taken their coffee and retreated to the computer room to “look over the early morning feeds.”

“You know,” commented Mannix, “I don’t know what she thinks but I don’t think he’s moved beyond, ‘Gwaiva speaks tech!’  Does anyone think he realises she’s an attractive girl?”

“Einar Haraldsson,” Cheryl’s screech from the balcony outside Einar’s bedroom cut off any answer.  “What is this mess?  I can’t vacuum your floor if everything you own is on it!”  The blond, seven foot tall frost giant put down his fork with a guilty expression and hurried up to his room while the others watched, slightly surprised at his reaction.  As he went in his door Cheryl added crisply, “If that’s dirty washing, it’s not going to take itself to the laundry!”

Later, back at the table to finish his breakfast Einar explained to Calhoun, “But she is scarier than my mother – she’s smaller so all that fierceness is more concentrated!”

Brise was listening to someone else.  “I find the construction of this team interesting,” Maired told her quietly as they sipped their tea.  “The choice of archetypes as well as the skill sets.  There’s someone missing, of course.”

“That’s a conversation for another day,” Amanda said briskly to her as she emerged from the computer room.  “There’s a job on.  This is what you get paid for, people.”

Inside the computer room a large screen took up most of one wall from seated eye height up.  From it a mature man of military bearing, his background a computer room like their own spoke, “Our city has been infiltrated by a group of interest.”

The picture on the screen split in two, one half still showing the speaker and the other showing security footage of five men, each carrying a black case, leaving the arrivals area of the international airport.  The camera view switched to the external taxi rank where, despite being part of a group, each man took a separate taxi.  Then the picture switched to one still of one man taken from a video sequence they’d just seen.  “Your task is to apprehend this man.  The others have each been assigned to one of the other teams with Team Three held in reserve.  It is preferred that you do not cause him permanent damage.”

“He’s a Knight of the Sun,” pointed out Bolt quietly.  “They’re all Knights of the Sun.  You can tell by that shrunken cloak brooch they’re wearing as a badge.”

“So they’re agents of the Lord of the Summer Isle?”  That was from Brise who looked as if her own words made her a very unhappy blonde quarter-harpy.

“Not necessarily,” Bolt was still quiet and considered.  “According to the briefing I got when I first ran into them, they support him but have been known to act proactively and independently on his behalf.  Third parties have occasionally taken steps to rein in their...militancy.”

“Yes,” agreed their onscreen briefer, “they could well be acting without the Lord of the Summer Isle’s knowledge.  Whatever they’re up to, we need them gathered in as soon as possible.  Particularly if they don’t want to be.  Fortunately we have your target’s initial destination from the taxi company.”

Emerging from the briefing ten minutes later, Calhoun commented to Amanda, “So there are five other teams like ours.  Who’s in them?”  That was followed, almost as a throw away line, by, “Why six teams?”

“Six like the sides of a snow flake,” said Cheryl as she went past with a bucket of cleaning equipment and promptly flushed bright red.

“Actually, from what I know of the elf, that could be exactly it,” replied Maired thoughtfully.  She gave Cheryl a look that was sharp but not at all unfriendly.

They caught up with their prey on the northern side of the inner harbour.  The solidly built, olive skinned man tried to throw his black case into the water when they cornered him, cursing solidly in Spanish, Latin and something unfamiliar when Brise caught it before it hit the water, trailing her feet through the water as the down beat of her wings took her and the case up again.

Hladvic, Gwaiva and Maired agreed that the case wasn’t trapped so Hladvic carefully opened it while Einar and Calhoun restrained the prisoner who was struggling to variations of, “I am Tabnit, Knight of the Sun.  Unhand me, ingrate peasants!” Inside the case was divided into six compartments.  Three were empty.  The remaining three compartments each held a dark, round object with a runic-looking script incised into it.”

“Those are magical,” announced Maired.  “Let me have a better look.”  The other two made room for her as she knelt down beside the open case.  The small-boned woman muttered something under her breath as she held her open hand over the three objects.  “Well, these three aren’t active.”  She carefully picked one up to look at it more carefully.  “It looks like, no, it is a hunting lure.”

“That doesn’t sound very sporting,” Mannix and Brise were standing watch to keep the public away while Vasa was bringing up the van, but Mannix was close enough to hear Maired and comment.

“They’re not,” agreed the wizard, “they’re for when you’re starving or you’re after a dangerous predator.  I’ve seen them used on man-eaters in Africa and Siberia.  This is unusual though.”  She tapped a portion of the writing.  “This script picked up some Egyptian influence so proper nouns and names go in cartouches.  Normally it would just have deer or wolf or tiger here.  This has a name.”

Tabnit the prisoner froze at her words.

“Oh?”  Calhoun pulled out a knife as he regarded his suddenly still prisoner with a professional eye.

“Slivvas?”  Maired paused, and then shook her head.  “I don’t know it.”

“The sea serpent?”  That was Einar, shocked.

“It’s supposed to frozen in ice at the far end of-,” Gwaiva whipped out her mobile phone and pressed a button.  “Dennis, I need you to look for anything about big chunks of ice breaking off the Antarctic ice shelves.  Probably no further back than when the elf took over the city.  I’ll wait on the line.”

“Sea serpent?”  Mannix was cautious.

“A creature long enough to wrap itself around a frost giant long ship and smash it to pieces,” explained Einar grimly, tightening his grip on the prisoner, “and still be longer than the ship it was attacking.”

“So maybe not a danger to modern ocean-going ships but dangerous to pleasure craft, fishing boats, dhows and that sort of thing?”  That was Mannix, extrapolating.

“It used to raid coastal villages,” added Gwaiva and Einar nodded in agreement.  “That’s why the ice elves co-operated with the frost giants to trap it.”

“And they’re calling it here?”  Brice’s waving indicated the city and suburbs around them.

Tabnit had begun to smirk as they’d begun to realise what he’d been doing, “You’ll never find-.”  He froze again as Calhoun’s knife slit his jacket and shirt up his back from behind.

“Hold still and I may not cut the skin when I do the pants, you bastard,” Calhoun was snarling, urbanity gone.  “Let’s see what else you’re carrying, right now.  Sorry ladies, but he lost all right to public privacy when he started planting a weapon of mass destruction.”

It was a long afternoon and a long evening before all of the Knights of the Sun and their toys were rounded up.  Two of Knights were in hospital after resisting apprehension, two no longer had their own clothing and one had been delivered into centralised detention hogtied to a pole. 

None of the Knights had co-operated in the recovery of the lures and one was too concussed to be coherent no matter what he wanted to do.  Each of the lures could be held in an adult human hand and they had had to track down seventeen of them.  Magic had helped as had knowing where each man had been found and where he’d been dropped off by his taxi but they’d still needed emu parades and divers to cover the territory.  It was nearly midnight when the last lure was recovered from a grease trap behind a suburban shopping centre three suburbs inland from either the harbour or the coast.

Tom the cook had supper waiting for the team when they returned to the base and Gavin was awake to help them stow their equipment before they cleaned up and ate.  Cheryl, who was sleeping, would have noted that there was no snoring to be heard.

Eating before falling into bed, Mannix commented, “It worries me that their first reaction to what the elf is doing, and I admit I don’t understand the ins and outs of these Accords yet, is a weapon of mass destruction.”

“They are loyal fanatics,” Bolt shrugged as he ate.

“They started with a weapon of mass destruction,” clarified Hladvic, “so where do they go next?”

Magical Squares

I wrote this in response to lilfluff's second prompt.

“It’s a maths puzzle,” Jeremiah’s shoulders slumped in defeat.  “I’m no good at maths and you’re telling me that a maths puzzle is the only way out of here?”

“Both your grandfathers are famous mathematicians,” the djinn folded his arms and glowered at him, “such trivial puzzles should be like mother’s milk to you.”

“Do you know what happens when you’re next to last kid in a big, brilliant family who’re all good at one particular thing?” demanded Jeremiah.  “No-one bothers explaining things to you because ‘you’ll know this already’.  Maths is my worst subject because I’ve never been taught.”  He glared at his captor.

“That is unfortunate,” the djinn smiled.  It was not a nice smile.  “I have been instructed by my master to imprison you.  I neither know nor care why.  The nature of my magic requires that there be a chance you might escape.  It is not my problem if you cannot solve the puzzle.  I will leave you the paper and pen, make what use of them you wish.  As you may be here for some time,” a heavy book thumped into existence on the desk that was one of the few pieces of furniture in the room, “a little light reading for you.”  The djinn bowed.  “Farewell and good fortune.”  There was a puff of smoke and Jeremiah was alone.

Alone in a thirteen feet by thirteen feet room, with a small separate bathroom and toilet, no exits and no windows.  He had an endless decanter of water, a salver of continuous fresh food, a bed, a chair, a desk, an eternal stack of paper, a continuous fountain pen and a book.  Oh, and a thirteen by thirteen magic square puzzle to solve in order to escape.  He picked up the book to find out what the djinn thought he might read and found himself looking at Mathematical Parlour Games for the Astute Mind.

He stepped back into his family home through his personal split in reality two weeks later, everything useful and portable from his prison bundled up in his bedding.  He was tanned, lightly bearded and planning to find the djinn’s master.  Successful variation sixty-five had gotten him home but he’d had a wealth of experience on the way.

He had a magic square and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

Magical Squares

I wrote this in response to lilfluff's second prompt.

“It’s a maths puzzle,” Jeremiah’s shoulders slumped in defeat.  “I’m no good at maths and you’re telling me that a maths puzzle is the only way out of here?”

“Both your grandfathers are famous mathematicians,” the djinn folded his arms and glowered at him, “such trivial puzzles should be like mother’s milk to you.”

“Do you know what happens when you’re next to last kid in a big, brilliant family who’re all good at one particular thing?” demanded Jeremiah.  “No-one bothers explaining things to you because ‘you’ll know this already’.  Maths is my worst subject because I’ve never been taught.”  He glared at his captor.

“That is unfortunate,” the djinn smiled.  It was not a nice smile.  “I have been instructed by my master to imprison you.  I neither know nor care why.  The nature of my magic requires that there be a chance you might escape.  It is not my problem if you cannot solve the puzzle.  I will leave you the paper and pen, make what use of them you wish.  As you may be here for some time,” a heavy book thumped into existence on the desk that was one of the few pieces of furniture in the room, “a little light reading for you.”  The djinn bowed.  “Farewell and good fortune.”  There was a puff of smoke and Jeremiah was alone.

Alone in a thirteen feet by thirteen feet room, with a small separate bathroom and toilet, no exits and no windows.  He had an endless decanter of water, a salver of continuous fresh food, a bed, a chair, a desk, an eternal stack of paper, a continuous fountain pen and a book.  Oh, and a thirteen by thirteen magic square puzzle to solve in order to escape.  He picked up the book to find out what the djinn thought he might read and found himself looking at Mathematical Parlour Games for the Astute Mind.

He stepped back into his family home through his personal split in reality two weeks later, everything useful and portable from his prison bundled up in his bedding.  He was tanned, lightly bearded and planning to find the djinn’s master.  Successful variation sixty-five had gotten him home but he’d had a wealth of experience on the way.

He had a magic square and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

What Are These Forms For?

This is for aldersprig's third prompt.

“Excuse me?”  The tired-looking young woman on the public’s side of the counter tried to attract the attention of one of the busy office staff.

“Yes?”  The one who replied was taller and neater than her, the glasses on her high nose giving her an air of feeling superior to those around her.

“My therapist told me I had to come here this morning and fill in an ADQ 158?  I know she told me it would take all day but my boss wasn’t happy about me having the day off, even for mandatory therapy, so I was hoping that perhaps...?

“I’m sorry,” the staff member gave her client an austere smile, “the process takes as long as it takes.  I can certainly call your workplace and confirm your attendance though.”

“Thank you.  Could you?”  The young woman returned her smile.

“We’ll just get you to fill the form in,” the staff member gave her a clipboard and a pen, “Then I’ll make the call.”

When she handed it in the staff member scanned it quickly, ticked some boxes and handed her two more forms.  “Thank you, Anoria.  Now take this AER 236 and this MDS 5 to Room 11B and hand them in completed to the receptionist there.  That’s down to your left then the first right.

The receptionist wore pink, smiled as she accepted the forms and looked them over.  “Right,” she passed over three forms clipped together.  “Fill these in and then we’ll send you in to the examination room.”

“Examination room?”  Anoria was sure she squeaked.  “Examination for what?”

“It’s all part of the process,” the receptionist smiled, “just fill in the forms and we can get everything moving.”

After an hour long medical examination, including blood taking and a scan, Anoria was released with a lunch chit and an appointment card.

She ate her nutritionally balanced and portion controlled meal then reported for her appointment.

The swish secretary outside the room ushered her into the presence of a very senior government therapist.  Anoria was sure she was about to get into trouble for wasting time and resources.

“Ah, Anoria,” he was beaming at her in an avuncular manner, “we’ve examined your case and come to the conclusion that your identified issues all stem from an almost complete lack intimate social, emotional and physical contact.  If this was an easy situation for you to solve, well, you wouldn’t have the problems that brought you to our attention in the first place.”  He smiled at her but she just sat there stunned at his analysis of her ‘just a bit lonely’ position.  “So,” the therapist continued, “after all our analysis, cross checking and medical checks, you’ve been assigned as part of a mutual spousal issue.”

“I beg your pardon?”  Anoria did not understand him at all.

“We’ve found you a compatible husband.  Congratulations.”

What Are These Forms For?

This is for aldersprig's third prompt.

“Excuse me?”  The tired-looking young woman on the public’s side of the counter tried to attract the attention of one of the busy office staff.

“Yes?”  The one who replied was taller and neater than her, the glasses on her high nose giving her an air of feeling superior to those around her.

“My therapist told me I had to come here this morning and fill in an ADQ 158?  I know she told me it would take all day but my boss wasn’t happy about me having the day off, even for mandatory therapy, so I was hoping that perhaps...?

“I’m sorry,” the staff member gave her client an austere smile, “the process takes as long as it takes.  I can certainly call your workplace and confirm your attendance though.”

“Thank you.  Could you?”  The young woman returned her smile.

“We’ll just get you to fill the form in,” the staff member gave her a clipboard and a pen, “Then I’ll make the call.”

When she handed it in the staff member scanned it quickly, ticked some boxes and handed her two more forms.  “Thank you, Anoria.  Now take this AER 236 and this MDS 5 to Room 11B and hand them in completed to the receptionist there.  That’s down to your left then the first right.

The receptionist wore pink, smiled as she accepted the forms and looked them over.  “Right,” she passed over three forms clipped together.  “Fill these in and then we’ll send you in to the examination room.”

“Examination room?”  Anoria was sure she squeaked.  “Examination for what?”

“It’s all part of the process,” the receptionist smiled, “just fill in the forms and we can get everything moving.”

After an hour long medical examination, including blood taking and a scan, Anoria was released with a lunch chit and an appointment card.

She ate her nutritionally balanced and portion controlled meal then reported for her appointment.

The swish secretary outside the room ushered her into the presence of a very senior government therapist.  Anoria was sure she was about to get into trouble for wasting time and resources.

“Ah, Anoria,” he was beaming at her in an avuncular manner, “we’ve examined your case and come to the conclusion that your identified issues all stem from an almost complete lack intimate social, emotional and physical contact.  If this was an easy situation for you to solve, well, you wouldn’t have the problems that brought you to our attention in the first place.”  He smiled at her but she just sat there stunned at his analysis of her ‘just a bit lonely’ position.  “So,” the therapist continued, “after all our analysis, cross checking and medical checks, you’ve been assigned as part of a mutual spousal issue.”

“I beg your pardon?”  Anoria did not understand him at all.

“We’ve found you a compatible husband.  Congratulations.”