Emancipation

Chapter 8 : First Things First

Chapter 8

Mae crawled out of bed and the cold floor shot a chill up her legs. She frowned and slipped her feet into her slippers. She shuffled to the bathroom and emptied her overfull bladder. The release of that pressure stirred her stomach, but not to hunger. She leaped from the toilet and did a graceful spin and pivot to aim the results down into the bowl. Imhay entered the bathroom in the middle of her emptying her stomach. He started to back out but she whipped her head around and stared him down. He stepped up behind her and rubbed her shoulders. Mae's stomach emptied and the vomiting stopped. She laid her arms on the seat of the toilet and her head on her left arm. This pregnancy was infinitely more difficult than when she carried Lyla. Illoa regularly reassured her that every pregnancy was different.

"You want some crackers?"

Mae spun around and snarled back at him, "No, Polly doesn't want a cracker! Polly wants to stop throwing up every morning!" She got to her feet and teleported her nightgown into the laundry chute. Then she went into the shower. It turned on and blasted her with lukewarm spray from every angle. She opened her mouth and caught the water which she used to rinse the taste of vomit from it. May left the shower and let the blast of warm air-dry her completely. She stepped up to the vanity and looked in the mirror. Caressing her belly she turned to Imhay. "Can you tell I am pregnant?"

He stepped up beside her. "The morning sickness might have clued me in."

She punched him in the shoulder softly. "You know what I mean!"

He looked at her stomach and placed a gentle hand on it. "You are beginning to show."

"It is time to decide. Am I going to the farm for a few months or am I going to tell people?"

"Last time you worried about what it would mean for Lyla to be raised in the public eye. All of those arguments still apply."

"Yes, but I missed most of her life. I didn't get to be her mother. I want more with this one."

"She needs a name."

"I haven't found the right one yet. I want to raise her. I want to be a mommy like you got to be a daddy."

Imhay rubbed his chin. "Then I think we should forgo the farm, announce the pregnancy, and do our best to limit the exposure that she receives."

"I am not ready to tell people."

Imhay nodded. "Just remember that you can't keep this under wraps indefinitely."

Mae sighed and walked into their bedroom and ordered up a fresh outfit from the delivery cupboard, one baggier than her usual style. It would conceal her baby bump a bit better. The sudden change in personal style might raise a few eyebrows, but perhaps not suspicions. She dressed and smoothed the outfit. "Honey, can you still tell?"

Imhay ducked his head out of the bathroom. She did a little twirl for him. "No, but you look positively frumpy."

"Where did you learn the word frumpy?"

"Romance novels. I have to do something while you are running things."

Mae laughed, "Speaking of running things, I need to head to work." He walked over to hug her and kissed her passionately. "What? you want to aim for twins?"

"No, I just wanted to remind you how beautiful you are."

"Kiss up." She pecked him on the cheek and headed out into the hallway.

The eyes of her staff fell on her the moment she came into view. Mae could feel their reactions to her new outfit. Mostly it was a surprise with a little disinterest in whatever had motivated it. Mae was eccentric and as long as she didn't appear angry her strange moods rarely affected the workings of the office. "Chief, good morning. We have some data on the last crunch space fragment Chief Bench incorporated into the Preserve. Fortunately for them, she found them in time, before their resources ran out. She also made a report on a first contact situation with a mystery species. Apparently, the girl has the ability to take on the abilities of others with just a touch."

"Janine, I have already met the girl. She seems intelligent, but I am not sure what her place here will be."

"Okay, chief. Here is today's schedule." Janine handed a tablet to Mae.

Mae accepted it and felt a wave of nausea wash over her, this one was from hunger. If she didn't get some breakfast in her… dry heaves were in her future. "Breakfast first…"


* * *

Ferguson led Raen into the storeroom. “The first step in teaching you to be a Baerd Guild courier is getting you looking one.” Ferguson gestured for Raen to hold up her arms. Raen lifted her arms and Ferguson began by placing a stack of folded bedding on them. Next Ferguson looked her over and selected a stack of folded clothes from another shelf and placed it on Raen’s pile. Ferguson took Raen through the storeroom and ended up filling her arms with clothing, equipment, and other items.

Then Ferguson led Raen to a room labeled, "Women's Bath." Inside were several benches sitting in front of small cupboards. "Put your things in there. There are some showers through there. Then meet me in the hall." She gestured towards one archway deeper into the bathroom. "That leads to the bathing pool." She made a show of sniffing Raen. I would try soaking off the smell in the bathing pool and finish up with a shower. Raen did as she suggested. When she came out of the shower room, Raen found that Ferguson had laid out one of the clean uniforms on the bench and left Raen to dress on her own. Fortunately, the mechanics of putting on clothing was more familiar to Raen than the use of eating utensils. Raen dressed in short pants and tunic. She pulled the new messenger bag over her head and fastened the belt upon her waist. Somehow she even figured out how to put on the shoes and socks. When she met Ferguson in the hallway she looked almost the perfect copy of the other girl, save for her untamed mop of bronze hair. Ferguson smiled, “Good job, not everybody can handle shoes." Raen gathered her pile of new belongings.

When she was through, Ferguson led Raen into the female courier barracks. Raen eyed the bunks stacked three high lining the room. Halls turned off at regular intervals, they too were lined with bunks. Above each bunk, there was a nameplate inscribed with the name of the occupant. Ferguson led Raen to a bunk stack. The top bunk bore the name Janie Ferguson. The bottom bunk was empty and bore no inscription.

Raen unloaded her pile on the empty bunk and Ferguson showed Raen the best places to put Raen’s things away in the cabinet at the end of the bed and drawer beneath assigned to the bottom occupant. Ferguson pulled a wide roll of tape from her messenger bag and spread a strip over the nameplate. Then she took a marker, “What’s your full given name? Whatever you tell me will become your full legal name.”

“Raen, Davis,” Raen held out her ID bracelet to Ferguson.

Ferguson glanced at it, “That’s a strange spelling, but okay.” Ferguson wrote it down in clear block letters. “There you are, Ms. Davis.”

Raen sat on the edge of her bed. It was an experience like no other. The thing was soft but supportive. “I sleep on this?”

“Yep, it’s all yours, the blankets and pillow too. I’ll show you how to make the bed tonight when it is time to get in it. Come on let’s tame that hair.” Ferguson led Raen down the hall to a room labeled barber. A man wearing barber’s guild clothes stood waiting next to a chair.

“Ms. Davis, hop up in the chair,” Ferguson suggested.

Raen followed instructions, and the barber leaned the chair back. With a practiced gesture, he flicked a black cape around Raen’s neck and then tucked a cloth in around the collar. He began washing her hair, followed by a good comb through. Then he sat her up straighter and began snipping away at her hair. He was cutting it short, approximately ear length for the hair on top and a close shave for the lower sides of her head. He blew it dry and fluffed it with a brush. When he offered her a mirror the surface reflected her face beneath a haircut identical to Ferguson’s.

“Now that you look the part, come with me,” Ferguson ordered. Ferguson led and Raen followed. They went through the hallways until they came to a small room with chairs and desks and a large screen upfront. “Here’s the classroom. You’ll be spending a good bit of time here. You probably have a lot to learn, reading, writing, math, and you will have to memorize the entire layout of the city.”

“I can read, write, and do complex mathematical equations. I think I know the city pretty well too,” Raen argued.

“How many blocks is it to the corner of Jepper’s Alley and Bitcoin Way, from this point?”

Raen just blinked. Were there really streets with those names?

“That’s what I thought,” Ferguson stuck her head in the room, “Teach? New recruit, where’s the class?”

A bookish young man wearing glasses and a generic Baerd guild uniform stepped out from behind the door, “Hey, Ferg, they are all at hoverbike lessons. Just me for right now.”

“Raen, this is Dumas Thatcher, one of the fine instructors provided by the guild to give us the base education needed for our job. Teach, this is Raen Davis, our newest apprentice courier.”

Dumas held his hand out to Raen, “Pleased to meet you. Let’s get started with the basics,” He pointed to a long banner above the media screen which was printed with the alphabet in both upper and lower case letters. “Let’s start with A.” He handed her a whiteboard and a marker.

“Excuse me, but I can already read, write and do complex mathematical calculations. I know the periodic table of elements and the equations to calculate momentum or the mass of a molecule,” Raen stated while writing the same out neatly on the whiteboard. She handed the whiteboard back to him. “What I need to learn is the streets and businesses of the city.”

“I had heard something about you being affiliated with the apothecary guild. I had no idea you had gotten that far into your education with them.”

“No, I have always known this stuff. Just like I have always worn this bracelet. It is just one of the many weird mysteries that is my life,” Raen replied, showing her ID bracelet.

“Have you used a computer workstation?”

“No, and I can’t tell you whether I know how or not.” Raen noticed that Ferguson had slipped away from the conversation. That left Raen a little irritated.

Dumas walked over to a desk with a screen embedded in it. He tapped to activate the screen then he placed his palm on the screen. After a moment the words, “Welcome, Instructor Thatcher,” lit up on the screen. He tapped and swiped through several menus and forms. Raen could pick up that he was setting up an account for her. “Put your palm on the screen.”

Raen complied. Shortly “Welcome trainee Raen Davis.”

“Computer, please prep placement exam one for Miss Davis,” Dumas said aloud.

“Exam ready,” flashed on the screen then it displayed “Question 1 of 150.” Raen sighed heavily and sat at the desk without further instruction and began answering the questions. Most were general knowledge or language questions although the test also tested her elementary math skills. Raen breezed through it and was tapping the last answer before she knew it.

“Done.”

Dumas looked at the clock on the wall, “How much of it was guessing? Because the test really doesn’t score well in the favor of guesses.”

“Oh, no, I answered the questions,” Raen said pushing the chair out from the desk.

Dumas walked over and placed his palm on the screen, “Computer, what is Miss Davis’s score?”

The numbers lit up and even Raen was surprised, “150 correct out of 150 answered.”

Dumas scratched his head, “I thought you were an orphan off the streets.”

“I am, but I told you, there are a lot of things that I just know.”

“And you weren’t taught things by the apothecaries?”

“No, I learned a lot with them. Master Bagood was very interested in figuring out what I knew already, but he was always filling me with history, and information on the natural environment of Tradehub.” Raen answered.

“Sit back down, I have a few more tests for you.” Raen sat while Dumas tapped away on the screen for several minutes, “This test will take you more than a day to complete.” The number of questions revealed for this one was 1500. Raen sighed again.


* * *

Beaoul followed Mira towards the maelstrom of an inter-dimensional portal, trailed by an entourage of fellow hellhounds. It would be her first time outside of the Main Dark Compound. She was curious about the outside universe. Using her invisibility and unlimited access to the compound, Beaoul had made a habit of eavesdropping on the field agents. They regularly carried out Mira's plans for the outer universe.

According to the conversations, Beaoul had heard, the outer universe was a place of life, beauty and a thing called love. The field agents spoke of these things, fronting with an air of disgust. She could sense their emotions, how that many craved their time away. from the confusing citadel that was the Dark Compound, though it was more of a prison camp. Beaoul heard one field agent remark on the atrocities of the Dark Compound, the next time she saw that operative, it was as a meal for the other hellhounds.

The landscape, on the other side of the portal, was dark, strewn with black rocks covered in places in drifts of ash. Fires smoldered in the wrecks of massive airships. Desolate did not begin to describe the scene. The battle held here must have been massive. Beaoul stepped out into the landscape through the portal at Mira’s side. Mira was the Queen of Darkness, and no doubt the instigator of this massive destruction. An army dressed in dark gray armor stood at attention in front of them. They were all Sanruphruph, a species of shape-shifters genetically engineered and conditioned by Mira for strict obedience.

At the head of the battalion stood Meorgh, Mira’s loyal general, “Your army flattened all resistance. May I present the last of the enemy commanders?”

Mira nodded and laughed. Behind her stood a dozen Hellhounds, similar to Beaoul, but not quite the same. She was unique, the only female hellhound, and the only one possessed of intelligent self-awareness. The hellhounds milled and snarled intimidating Mira’s army as much as the short string of captives arriving from the rear of the army.

“I assume you now realize, this is my world!” Mira announced. The captives stared at the ground, just as desolate as their once beautiful world. “Now, what to do with you? You should have had the good sense to die in the battle. Now your fate is, less clean. Hellhounds, you may have the captives.”

Beaoul felt the pressure of Mira’s will goading the other hellhounds into attacking only the captives. They quickly closed the distance. The idea of watching the hellhounds tear the captives limb from limb made Beaoul queasy. For the first time in front of Mira, Beaoul found her voice, “Mistress, wouldn’t it be better for the hellhounds to just scratch them?" Beaoul asked, "They’ll still die."

The hellhounds stalled in their approach to the prisoners. Mira turned and stared at her. It was the first time Beaoul had ever seen her mistress surprised by anything. Mira raised an eyebrow, “You can talk… not even healing hounds can speak. How long were you going to conceal this from me?”

Beaoul shrunk back on her haunches tucking her tail beneath her. “I wasn’t purposely hiding anything Mistress. I just didn’t feel my speech was clear enough for you to make out, yet.”

“Hmm, I will accept that.” Mira turned back to the business at hand, “Minor wounds only, then return to the kennel.”

The other hellhounds howled in objection but obeyed Mira’s command reluctantly. They wounded each prisoner with their claws. Snarling and nipping at each other the rest of the hellhounds returned through the still-open portal in a disorganized stampede. The prisoners seemed to think they had seen mercy, but then the wounds began to fester, eating at the prisoners from the wound outward.

Beaoul reconsidered the idea of seeing them die in a feeding frenzy. They rotted alive, decomposing before they had even collapsed. Humans didn’t hold up well against hellhound wounds, even minor ones. Beaoul had never seen a sentient being die from hellhound scratches before, and it would be a while before she would be able to stand herself for having suggested it. It was much worse than watching hellhounds devour the corpses that were their usual meals and even worse than the rabbits that had died at her claw.


* * *

The episode of the show Fiona was watching was billed as the last one in the series. She had binge-watched the last three seasons of the forty-nine-year series and honestly couldn't see why this episode should end it from any of the plot developments so far. It must have been canceled or something. Though it was a quality series with strong storytelling and good special effects. The last time the main character went through a metamorphosis had been a brilliant affair including a violent explosion of light and wind. The show, titled “Amelia,” for the name of the main female character followed the life of a centuries-old genetically engineered humanoid who traveled through space and time. Every so often Amelia would undergo a metamorphosis and take on a slightly different appearance, being replaced by a new actress. The actresses all shared the same flaming red hair and green eyes.

Billed as recorded live, this episode was about the day Amelia found out she was pregnant again by her pair mate.

Amelia ran from a motel onto the street with a frantic face. She reached the street and turned to run along letting the tears stream down her face. She began making retching noises into the trash can. “I can’t believe I just did that again. I can’t believe the power our pairbond has over us!” She retched again. On cue, the officer came to check on her.

“Miss, are you alright?”

The woman playing Amelia searched beyond the view of the camera.

“Miss, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine!” She kept staring beyond the camera. Her eyes darted about, searching for something.

“I said, are you sure?”

Amelia's eyes focused on something just beyond the camera. “Jayson!”

A voice behind the camera responded, “Ellen! Oh, bless everything it is you! You’re alive,” The man ran towards her and buried his tear-streaked face into her disheveled red hair, clutching her to him.

Amelia smiled. “Jayson, this is us!” She gestured around at the set, “This is the day when we conceived our youngest daughter!”

“Angela!”

Then another red-haired woman ran up from behind the camera. Amelia embraced Angela and drug her before the camera. “This is the daughter the last scene was about conceiving. Oh, I didn’t mention, I am not just an actress playing Amelia, I am the real woman this entire series is based on. There is so much more to my life than this series covered. I’m not just talking about what happened between Angela’s conception and now, There was an entire chunk about the dreamscape and the Inter-dimensional Empire. Thousands of years of my life were left out. They weren’t all this interesting though.”

Amelia took the camera by the hand and turned it on the crew, “See this is real unscripted life. What is about to happen, live on TV is going to trip your shit! I and my family are going to teleport off to my daughter's house and it won’t be a special effect! Though internet trolls will intensely argue that subject in the future, I am sure. People pull out the phones you smuggled in despite all warnings. The more angles this is filmed from the more it can be proven real!”

Amelia took Angela’s hand and Jayson’s, “Honey, you know the way.”

Jayson wrapped his arms all the way around her. Then the trio disappeared. The camera angle changed several times showing the disappearance. The air around the trio was sucked in to fill the space they left vacant. Fiona's mouth gaped. Was it really real?

"Yep, trips your shit don't it," A familiar voice stated from Fiona's left. Fiona dropped the remote and spun to see who had teleported into her room.

The shock of all shocks she saw a version of herself. "Are you my alternate?"

"Nope Me, I am a future you. I have a mission you must choose to accept. But first I need to tell you a secret. You may not realize it yet but as far as anyone else knows right now the old omniverse is completely dead and gone like it never existed. They can't get back into it. Here's the funny part me. We are able to transport ourself through Preserve into the old omniverse. We are not bound by any of the limitations to others’ movement through time and space. We can move back beyond time callouses impenetrable to others. We can visit times and places like Christ’s life without difficulty, but most people encounter subtle challenges preventing it. There are consequences for everything we see and do. If we do the wrong thing we can reverse the salvation of man, destroy civilizations and religions, and worse, with consequences across both omniverses But don't reveal this to anyone else.

Fiona cocked her head to the side trying to absorb what this supposed future self had to say. "What?"

"We can do cool and amazing stuff. Now I need you to take this box of embryonic crunch bombs to hide in the old omniverse."

"Whoa! I have seen a documentary about crunch bombs. They are what destroyed the first omniverse! Why in the hell would I take them there!"

"They sprang into existence within the knotted threads of space-time within the Preserve, these literally are the bombs that destroyed the old omniverse. They will be discovered within the Preserve soon. You must because otherwise, they will destroy the Preserve and the new omniverse and possibly everything else in a massive paradox."

"Why should I believe you?"

"This is going to hurt." The future her laid a hand on her cheek. A confusing array of memories flooded into her mind each of them registered briefly but most fluttered through without leaving anything real to grasp. What remained when Fiona returned to full consciousness was an ornate chest, the knowledge of how to assemble her abilities to travel back into the old omniverse, the clear need to do the requested task, and a slight headache. The future her was gone.
* * *

Tyrulan shoveled the bones skin and droppings from the whelping kennels and scrubbed at the dried blood. He knew he smelled awful. He had been at this with very few breaks for the last month. The lead hellhound handler Klugg worked him hard. He was a plain human, and he seemed to revel in ordering Tyrulan around. Normally Tyrulan wouldn't even have to acknowledge the human's existence. It grated on him to have to bow to the tyrant-like human's orders. He obeyed not out of fear or respect for Klugg. Really, Tyrulan obeyed because it was what Mira had commanded.

The drop in rank really felt like a knife turned in his guts. Tyrulan had dwelled on the unfairness of it for a month. It seemed to him that he had followed every one of Mira's orders to the letter. His mission had been eminently successful until it wasn't. But the factors had intervened and reversed all of his careful work over one night. It shouldn't have been possible and it wasn't his fault. There was nothing that he could have done differently. Tyrulan ultimately came to the conclusion that the failure wasn't his, it was Mira's plan that had failed. He didn't air that heresy though, and he focused on burying the thought beneath the smell of the cages he cleaned.

It wasn't fair though. His punishment was just as severe as if he had been at fault. Manual labor with a small shovel and trash bin seemed to be overly tortuous for something that wasn't his failure. Dwelling on that wasn't safe though. He buried those thoughts deeply too. Then the thought that perhaps Mira wasn't even listening to his thoughts surfaced. The sacrilege was multiplying. How dare he defy the omniscience of Mira Black? That was on the level of believing she wasn't all-powerful too.

Perhaps if he would be punished the same as if it were his fault even when it wasn't, someday he might decide to purposefully disappoint her. He clapped a hand over his mouth as though he could keep that thought in his head. The hellhounds in the other room snarled and barked as though they had heard it. He disregarded the filth he had just smeared on his face. That was nothing on what Mira could do if she heard the thought. Tyrulan froze, waiting for her to appear and angrily strike him down.

Death didn't come. Having dared too many heresies at once, Tyrulan returned his focus to cleaning the kennel. He pushed the thoughts as far down into his gut as they would go. Treasuring them he wrapped them away in secrecy, to take out and play with at a later date. Perhaps on a mission? He didn't know when he would rebel or even if. The fact was that the seeds of rebellion had been planted.


* * *

Brenda stealthily stalked her way through the outer area of the hellhound kennels. Only Puck's presence on her heels kept the adult hellhounds silent. Their genetic potential was such that they could detect her past her personal invisibility, and they would react loudly to her presence. Puck's presence as a female of their species soothed them and they lazily stayed where they were. It wasn't like Brenda wouldn't attempt this mission without Puck, she had liberated dozens of hellhound puppies on solo missions. The thing was she was after two this time. She already had foster parents waiting for them.

Mom, I smell a new keeper! Puck inserted into Brenda's mind.

Brenda nodded and turned the knob on the whelping room. Inside there were three canines in the process of being ripped open from the inside out. Brenda had three litters to choose from. She made herself visible and prepared a small carry kennel with two milk-producing nipples inside. Brenda randomly chose one of the newborn litters and grabbed the two smallest puppies. They seemed reluctant to feed off of their host mother. She tucked them into the carry kennel and introduced them each to a nipple. They suckled reluctantly, she could feel their surprise at what came out and saw them latch on well and suckle hard.

“Are you just taking two?”

Brenda spun to face a sanruphrup male. He wore a dark-colored uniform covered in filth usually seen on much lower-ranked individuals. It was enough to tell her that this male was not in Mira's good graces at the moment. Puck rushed into the room. Mom someone is oh? I see you see he's here.

Brenda nods as much to the invisible puck as to the sanruphrup. She waited for his response.

“Are you why we have been short on so many litters?”

Brenda nodded again testing the air between them for veiled or unveiled hostility from him.

The sanruphrup shrugged and opened the kennel of another group of newborns, “Here take one of these too, “What are you doing with them?”

Brenda accepted the puppy he offered. “Raising them free.”

The sanruphrup grabed a pad of paper from a shelf, “This is the location of a creche of the young of my people. Do you think you could do the same for them?” He handed her the top sheet of paper with coordinates scrawled on it.

“Do you know who I am?”

“A factor, can you do it?”

Brenda nodded again as she pulled a sling with a nipple attached from her bottomless bag. She settled the puppy into it. It too reacted favorably to the mixture of milk and honey it delivered. “With that kind of attitude, your lifespan is short. This will enrage Mira.”

“I can take it. I have before.”

Mom we need to get out of here!

“What is your name?” Brenda asked turning back to the sanruphrup.

“Tyrulan, now go! I need to sound the alarm!”

Brenda slid back into invisibility cloaking the kennel and sling as well. Then she followed Puck out past the adult male hellhounds. Behind her, she heard Tyrulan making a fuss. "Klugg! I just spotted a factor stealing puppies! What do we do?"

"Release the hounds boy!"

Brenda had been chased by hellhounds once before and didn't relish the idea of being mauled again she put on speed but managed to hear Tyrulan's response, "They would slaughter me before I even got to their collars. I am not an experienced handler!"

"Idiot! Why aren't you wearing your chainmail."

Brenda reached a point where she could easily teleport out of the compound. The last thing she heard from the kennels was Tyrulan saying, "You never issued me any!"

Brenda arrived on the earth that served as a waypoint to reaching the Preserve. Alexander sat on his park bench tossing bread to a group of pigeons. "Good afternoon, Brenda."

Brenda smiled at the kind old man. He was the unofficial guardian of the waypoint. "Good afternoon, Alexander. How's traffic?"

"Slow, I think more and more of your factors are becoming experienced in teleporting to their destinations rather than stopping by here to chat with an old man."

Brenda felt a sense of relief at that. The greater the traffic through this point in space-time the greater the chance that Mira would attempt to claim it as her territory. That would be bad news for Alexander and his whole world. But she didn't say that. "Some people are busy."

"You have been instructing them to go around, haven't you. I know the danger that your presence here puts us in. Thank you."

"You sure you aren't a telepath Alexander?"

"Not to my knowledge the only voice in my head is my own. I don't know how you people keep your own thoughts straight. Mine wander around and it is just me in here."

Brenda chuckled, "I have to get back. I have puppies to deliver to their foster families."

"Get to it." He smiled.