Temecula, CA

December 24, 2012

10:07 AM

Crog. Not again.

Jaruka Teal swerved off the road, managing to avoid two human corpses and a few Wave crystals on his head-long collision into the bush laden riverbed on his Howler Cycle. He could have attempted to not let his bike crash onto its side into the muddy bank, but caring for the body paint was beyond him.

Two hours. It had only been two annoying hours on Terra Firma and he had almost run into human authorities. Again.

He cut the engine and ducked under the bushes. Several police cars with screaming sirens that irritated the mercenary’s hearing sped down the road toward town, one after another. Jaruka was fortunate enough to have spotted them earlier when they drove behind a small hill. What with the new terran transformations, crumbling society and governments, and zombie corpses littering a department store's parking lot they had much bigger priorities than a dreadlocked islander riding a wide-wheeled motorcycle from another world.

Jaruka stood up once the cops were gone, and then spat at the ground. He happened to peer at a male human corpse on the side of the road. Though there were scuff marks on his clothes the outward head burst and dried blood was not from a hit and run incident. There were more zombie corpses up and down the road with the same head injury, thousands dead with no evidence of why or how, just speculation. Corpses littered towns, cities, and the country’s capitol. Jaruka shuddered remembering the event and Groom Lake, Griffon….

Jaruka had no time to remember that painful moment. Who would? Getting to safety was all that mattered, and getting drunk enough to forget hopefully.

He picked up and revved the Howler Cycle's fusion engine on. Jaruka remounted the cycle and rolled onto the road and just as he did, a sheriff’s car drove passed him.

The deputy looked at Jaruka, and Jaruka looked back.

"Crog." Jaruka opened the throttle and raced off.

Officer Charles was following his fellow officers when he came across the strange, wicked-built motorcycle and its unknown rider. Curiosity got the better of him, just as it had with all of the events since the Wave. The tires kicked up smoke as Charles turned the car around and gunned the gas. He reached for the mic on the dashboard as the car sped in pursuit.

"This is 572. Officer in pursuit. Suspect is on an unknown vehicle going over sixty on Glen Oaks Road heading east."

He was nowhere close to understanding magic. The events of the pre-Wave, post-Wave, and then the sudden onset of zombies that nearly turned Temecula into a blood-stained ghost town were weighing down on Charles’ otherwise rational mind. Aliens had destroyed Area 51 and a Gray had apologized on the morning news. What scared him the most were the daily mutations of humans that had come without warning. It seemed to be only a matter of time before his son or even his wife changed.

"Copy, 572. Charles, you were supposed to be with Anderson on the bank robbery on Rancho," the dispatcher said.

"The truck nearly clipped me, I had to catch up. I'll join her after this." The Ford Interceptor's engine was at full horsepower, but the unknown motorcycle was faster. Much faster.

The rider was at forty miles per hour as he turned the corner with ease and grace, losing no momentum.

"Son of a? Who made that thing? Shit!"

Charles slammed the brakes and turned the wheel left. His heart skipped several beats. He was grateful for the lockdown in effect, there were no civilians out and about to be put into danger. Dispatch repeated his orders, but Charles was focused now on the motorcyclist, certain that he had the answers to his questions. As Charles ended the turn, he surveyed the road for the motorcyclist, but he was gone.

Charles cursed, despite all his questions about this new world, it was useless to pursue the motorcyclist when the police department was so low on officers. Still cursing, he turned the car around while avoiding crystals and bodies on the curb.

A mile down the road, Jaruka was laughing inside his helmet. "Those are human authority vehicles? They need to step up on their tech!" He kept laughing until he was out of city limits. Opening the throttle invigorated him.

His eccentric use of his Howler Cycle was stifled when he had to transport Scott and Katie to the winery hours ago. They were fortunate enough to avoid a police cruiser, but having both on the motorcycle was an annoying balancing act for Jaruka. It was the hairiest ten seconds for the terran couple even after the airbase attack. An alien ship flying over and landing on the winery’s parking lot would have caused local panic and questions about him, using the cycle to transport was a necessity. It was Katie’s idea not to.

He rode far from Temecula, but not beyond the designated radius from Walsh Estate Winery.

Stupid, pointless rules, Jaruka thought.

He wanted to rip the ankle brace off, but there were serious reasons not to besides appeasing Denverbay’s orders. Jaruka was irritated enough to fantasize socking Denverbay in his quill-covered face.

Jaruka drove toward Vail Lake and then onto a dirt road. The area seemed fitting for Jaruka, it served as a reminder of good times on other worlds, even Creos. He stopped in front of a grass clearing near the lake, killing the engine. He got off the cycle, reached into his pocket for a small black box, and shook it three times. Light shimmered off of the grass and rose like a stage curtain, revealing Jaruka's temporary home. He grumbled from under his helmet out of dread from the look of it.

The Marin'zal gunnery dropship, a new vessel of Nova Company—or it was. The vessel was modified to an extent of being suitable to live in. For starters, the majority of the plasma cannons had been removed and Jaruka was left with a single sonic cannon mounted under the bridge. Less cannons meant less humans dead, Denverbay mentioned. The dual bulkheads on both sides of the ship for quick loading and unloading of troops were welded and jerry-rigged to never open. The stern airlock hatch was left for two-way entry. The two gyroscope side thrusters that made up most of the thrust while several anti-gravity pads provided suitable lift were downgraded for air travel only. So much for any hope of off-world food and supplies shopping.

For lack of a better expression, his friends, commanding officer, and dunderhead councilman gave him a passive-aggressive flying box.

It's...not...home, Jaruka screamed to himself. He missed the Lunar Spear. He missed his stuff. I shouldn't have taken that job.

With his helmet off, Jaruka walked up to the ship with disgust on his face. His Howler Cycle was parked beside it. He swiped the black box over a key port and the hatch opened inward with a hiss. He stepped inside and the hatch closed behind out of generosity, Marin’zal dropships are not known to be equipped with A.I.s.

What used to be four rows of seats was reduced to just one in the middle. Towards the stern of the ship there was a kitchenette, a small bathroom in an enclosed box, a workbench, and a few installed shelves. The empty weapon racks were for storage, but most of his stuff recovered from the Lunar Spear was stacked in metal crates. Jaruka’s plasma rifle and priceless katana were hung on the wall beside the airlock, perhaps as a gesture of respect from the Endeavour’s crew. The only possessions that could be not recovered were his glassblowing tools, and with their loss went Jaruka’s mental therapy.

Jaruka inhaled familiar smells of the Endeavour's hangar bay. He focused for a second, picking out multiple hard working and dedicated species. His friends—and personal enemies—had done their best to make things comfortable for him.

The smell would fade and be replaced with Terra Firma and his own.

Homesickness sank in.

He took a few breaths, cracked his knuckles, and whispered, "Damn him."

All of his pent up rage burst out, taking control of his actions. Crates, tools, and other objects were thrown everywhere. He cursed repeatedly, blaming the Councilman, the missing client that offered the ill-fated job, and sometimes even Brill, his best friend and captain of Nova Company. He collapsed onto his knees, screaming, crying, and begging for the head-flipping nightmare to end.

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The fire in the rock circle crackled under the night sky, fed by bush branches and one tree that had fallen years before Jaruka arrived. The fire cast an orange glow on Jaruka and the dropship's dark chrome hull.

The fire pit was Jaruka's second form of therapy. The flames ignited pleasant memories that almost dulled his drunken hate.

"Throw that bastard into a black hole," Jaruka yelled into the night, his green, three-fingered hand clutched a bottle of brew. "Yeah. Maybe piss into the gravity wake. Ice spikes of piss through the bastard's little body. That'll teach that Gnogal to not mess with Halcunacs! Swish. Bang. Pow!" He kicked up dirt and then screamed at his ankle band. "You hear that, Benali!? Right into a croging black hole! And the same to you, Denverbay. Crog! You!"

He drank a large sum of brew from the bottle, made from the Endeavour's kitchen staff. It had been a gift, found amongst the crates along with a note saying, “Keep yourself together.” Words only Brill would say. After three bottles of the brew, back in the comfort of his own Halcunac body without a DNA mask, he felt better. He slunk into the folding chair; his skindreads draped behind the chair, they were starting to grow out rough and rigid like pine tree bark. His tunic was splattered with brew stains, mostly from his own dribbles.

Jaruka let out a heavy chuckle. "Maybe a flaming bag of shit at his ship's bridge. Attract mud fleas. Yeah. Perfect!" Smiling, his chuckle turned into a heavy laugh.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

His T31ZK plasma rifle was in his lap. He pawed at the rifle, feeling secure in his drunken state. His sword was left inside, there was no need for it. In the country he occupied the humans seemed to be more interested in guns. Jaruka wanted to sleep under the stars rather than inside the trashed dropship. He missed the Lunar Spear, the thought of it made his chest ache, and another sip of brew followed.

The idea of waiting for the next shipment of brew prodded at the sober portion of Jaruka’s brain. It was aggravating to think of having to set rations and large gulps followed.

It was a starry Christmas night on Terra Firma. Humans and terrans were sleeping, or celebrating (if any of them could after the events of the Wave) with people. Jaruka could not care less about their holiday festivities, but he was slightly curious about how anyone could celebrate with all of the uncertain emotions swimming around. How the government would handle the terrans and their magic and if anyone would try to stop the changes and retain their humanity still remained to be seen.

A small sound jerked Jaruka in his chair, he wobbled as he stood up and some of the brew dribbled from his mouth. "Wha...Who's there? Griffon?" The hill beside the ship caught some of the fire's glow. "Are you human? Terran? Show yourself!" His rifle charged up and he aimed it at the cliff.

In a drunken haze Jaruka fired a green plasma ball from the barrel, blasting rock and dirt into a charred and molten mass. Burned oxygen blew into his face and he fired a couple more shots, just to be sure. The shots were bright enough to light up the hill in green light.

"I mean it! I'm one croging dangerous bastard!"

Jaruka fired a few more shots. One shrub became a two-foot wide charred crater, and a few more were set on fire only to be quickly snuffed out by the plasma bullet's specialized magic.

He dropped the spent rifle, fell to his knees in dizziness, and then screamed into the night sky. Jaruka hoped his threats and screams went toward Creos, the capitol planet of the galaxy. "Crogen laws! I hate you! Rot away you tripodic, pin branch politician!" He punched the ground in defeat.

Why? He thought. Why me?

He looked at the bottle he had dropped, all of the remaining brew had soaked into the soil. "Dammit," he grumbled. He grabbed the bottle and smashed it against the dropship's hull. Screw rations.

Jaruka stood, still dizzy, and went back into the ship. Inside, he noticed movement near his belongings. The species of the visitor was hard to distinguish because of his blurry sight, but he swore he saw fur.

“The hell do you want?!" He screamed before being hit in the face with fowl smelling water, and he gagged on the rancid taste. Jaruka fell backwards, hitting his head on a post.

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Walsh Estate Winery

December 26, 2012

9:20 AM

"Breathe in. Breathe out. In with the good, out with the bad."

Katie repeated the mantra five times; her concentration increased and anxiety decreased. She stood with arms in front and palms facing each other a couple inches apart. Her forced relaxation flowed through her terran body; she was calm, collected, undistracted, and in control of herself.

Focusing on the space between her hands, she felt the familiar, tingling shift of terran energy from within her spine flowing down to her arms and fingertips. She smiled as she felt the strong mana charge manifest.

Both of Katie's parents and her two brothers were sitting on the living room couch while her boyfriend, Scott Dunne was in the recliner. There had been some previous apprehension from the family concerning the totems in the room—Scott's husky, Keeji, and Katie's red-tailed hawk, Arana—but the past two days had eased the family. "Okay, I got it working,” Katie said. "Don't make me laugh."

Brenda, Katie’s mother, took a nervous breath. “Why doesn't that make me feel safe, Katie?"

The mana charge disappeared and Katie dropped her hands as both Robert, Katie’s brother, and Scott gave exasperated sighs. "Mom. Please. You asked about it, I'm doing it. Don't be afraid. I got this."

"I get that, Katie. It's just…I’m not sure you won't blow stuff up in front of us. Like on the news.”

"Oh God, she won't, just let her," Robert said, feeling as frustrated as Katie.

Brenda opened her mouth to continue, but Robert stopped her. She dipped her head and nodded.

"Anyway," Katie said as she restarted the process. Within three seconds of beginning the steady breaths and internally repeating her mantra, the mana charge returned.

It had taken an hour of convincing Brenda, and two hours of Katie convincing Jonathan, her father, for either of her parents to allow her to practice. The local news had been painting terran magic as evil, loose, and uncontrollable energy that was ready to explode at any moment. Katie hoped that showing her family that she could control her mana would negate the propaganda.

Katie adjusted her stance and the charge increased along her spine and arms. She then closed her eyes and said, "Luchtaigh."

The violent transformation experienced by the humans who had become terrans had gratefully caused no trauma. The transformation redesigned their nervous systems, allowing for a new heart, a mana heart, to be directly connected to the spinal column. It was the mana heart that gave them the reservoir they needed to practice magic, an ability that humans would be leery of for years to come.

The heart squeezed as liquefied mana raced through Katie’s nerves, running through her arms, and seeped out from glowing Celtic tribal tattoos on her fingertips and wrists. The mana flowed out as blue and white wisps of viscous liquid, collecting into a molten ball between Katie’s hands, defying the laws of gravity. Drops of the liquefied energy fell onto the carpet and evaporated without a scorch mark.

Her sight did not leave the ball. The display was the simplest spell she could show her family without frightening them.

"Now imagine her, saving my life. And me nearly killing a demon alien at Area 51," Scott said.

Brenda Walsh gulped.

"Yeah, that’ll help the coping, dummy,” Keeji said.

“Look who’s talking.”

The demonstration lasted only seconds before Katie broke a sweat and her hands shook, she assumed that she would need more practice before she could hold the mana longer. She exhaled and let her concentration slip. Without her direction or motivation, the mana ceased. Katie’s tattoos disappeared, the nerve tingles subsided, and the energy she had summoned evaporated into harmless smoke.

Katie took a few breaths, keeping her composure with a smile. "So," Katie said, "What do you think?"

Jacob was first to respond, he stood from the couch and walked up the stairs. "I'll be in my room," he said in monotone.

Robert was next. “Um…What do I think? It's a start but...damn. That tail still creeps me out."

"Magic is real and you're still freaked out about my tail?" Katie asked. “You will get one eventually.”

“That will cramp my style. Any chance I'll offend people with a fifth limb? I can't handle that.”

Katie turned her finger in a circle. “And the magic?”

Robert paused, and then said, “Cool but cautionary. I’ll give a full report soon.”

His words translated as never to Katie.

"But what about the shit load of possibilities?" Katie said fervently, the possibilities were her only reason for even showing her magic.

"Like a mushroom cloud?" Robert turned his head to address Scott. "You have been skeptical of Katie's hobby since high school and you pulled that off?"

"I was unconscious, so…” Scott twitched, placing a hand over his still healing chest scar. “So stop fighting about it and take this seriously.”

Katie nodded. "Yeah, Robert," she said sticking her tongue out. "Mom, Dad, your thoughts?”

There had been tension between Katie and her parents before the Wave. Magic and New Age paraphernalia had been a hobby for her and her parents failed to understand her fascination with them. The same could have been said for Scott, but he had looked past her hobbies. After Katie's mana demonstration neither Brenda nor Jonathan could bring themselves to doubt the very real magic that they had witnessed in their living room. Although Brenda was usually the most vocal family member, she sat silent, covering her mouth and shaking with the realization that her daughter would never be human again.

Jonathan fidgeted in his seat, but he spoke for his wife. “Me? Katie….What do you expect us to say?”

"A little support maybe,” Katie said. “With time, it might be used for…”

"Support my ass, Katie,” Jonathan said. Katie held her breath and he continued, “Support is out. I still have trouble catching up with the news but do you have any slightest idea what all this means to us? To your family?"

"Do you?" Scott asked. “You've been disappointed in Katie ever since we left for Big Bear. Give us a break. Maybe you forgot our stories how we survived being prisoners in a government base, how we were saved by aliens. And my near death expe...." Scott winced again from his chest pain. "Jonathan, for all it’s worth, this is what we have, and hard to believe, I’m for finding out our limitations.”

"Preach it, buddy!" Keeji barked.

Jonathan did not like Scott’s statement. "Or maybe who I'm looking at is not my little girl anymore.”

Only a few deep breaths stopped Katie from yelling at Jonathan. Her tail jerked from side to side and she hoped that he understood that his words had hit a nerve. Part of the negative propaganda surrounding terrans in the news was that after the transformation there was nothing left of the human personality, and Jonathan's accusation stung.

"Dad, please. Hear me out," Katie said. "You hope this will go away and hear what the President says." Brenda swallowed as Katie’s tail continued to sway. "This is happening. This was not our choice, Dad. What I'm learning and what I know might protect this family, maybe improve our lives."

"'Might' and 'maybe' unsettle me, Katie."

Arana flew onto the coffee table and stood in front of Katie's parents, startling them. "I hate to disagree there, Mr. Walsh," she said. "Katie has tools and she is not afraid of finding out how to use them. More and more humans are changing. We have to adapt."

"You're talking to someone in his fifties," Jonathan said to the bird. "And still, the animals. Look, I'm the man of the house and for this whole family, and Scott, we need to take this slow before we barge and blow something up."

Before Katie could add anything to the argument, the front door was kicked in. The two hinges of the door were ripped from the threshold and the doorknob had punched a hole through the wall.

The humans in the room screamed at Jaruka Teal, standing in the doorway in his alien form with his green four-fingered hand pressed onto the door, pushing it still more from the frame. He was caked in mud, and his right eye twitched in rage.

"You two. We talk. Now!" Jaruka yelled, he pointed at the terrans with a dead skunk in his other hand.

The round of reactions was simultaneous.

Keeji screamed, "Crazy alien in the house!" He ran to the kitchen.

Arana was startled and flew back to the fireplace mantle.

Robert cursed and jumped off the couch and followed Keeji.

Jonathan stood and yelled incoherently.

Brenda, in fear, could not leave the couch. "Forget what Jonathan said, Katie. Kill...whatever it is!"

"Wait just a second, just cool it!" Scott stood from the recliner but his chest burned with pain. "Jaruka, what the hell is wrong with you? You promised we'd introduce you slowly?"

"Drop that deal, kid," Jaruka yelled. "I spent two days scrubbing my skin raw to no relief! The mud doesn't do crog at all and the leaves around the site makes everything itch!" Jaruka came in and slammed the skunk carcass onto the coffee table. The smell from the Halcunac was horrendous enough to make the couple and family gag. "Please tell me there's a remedy to get rid of this smell. I am one step closer to set my skin on fire!"

"Who in god's name are you? We're you human?" Jonathan yelled. "How do you know my daughter?"

"Stay out of this, old man." Jaruka shook his head. "For goddess' sake, I need hel…“

There was a loud clunk and the few seconds of terror ended with a shimmer of light that enveloped Jaruka for a second. Jaruka fell forward and crushed the coffee table and skunk carcass. The couple backed away and Brenda jumped out and behind the couch before anybody else was hurt.

Robert dropped his lucky shovel, gasping for air. No one had seen him come from the dining room with his tool amongst the confusion. “Jesus fucking Christ," he said. "Dad, call the cops. Right now.”

Jonathan had already put the number into his phone before Robert had said anything.

“No, not the cops,” Katie said with a gasp as she stood between her family and Jaruka’s unconscious body. “Nobody is calling the cops. Dad, stop, we can explain."

"Explain? You explained enough," Jonathan said. The phone was at his ear.

Katie grabbed the phone from him and ended the call, her fight with him would have to wait. She knelt beside Jaruka, ignoring her parents’ and Robert's pleas to stay away. Jaruka snored soundly and Katie figured that there were no injuries to his head, she was more concerned and curious about the light that had appeared. “I hope he wakes up.”

"He looks like a Predator knockoff, keep him knocked out. And how the hell does this guy know you two?” Robert asked.

“This guy you hit,” Scott started, “happens to be our cellmate at Area 51.” The Walsh family went quiet. “We we’re hoping to tell you guys later before you guys have a spaz attack.”

“And his alien friends saved our lives,” Katie added.

“That too.”

Robert looked back at Jaruka. “Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “He looks like that guy at the gate when you got back.”

“The same person.” Katie was concerned for Jaruka, more than ever, and somehow that bothered her. Jaruka seemed okay, but getting rid of the smell on him would be another ordeal.