As You Wish, My Lord ~a prose fragment~

* BE MINDFUL - suicidal thoughts and intentions are mentioned immediately, but they are followed by a helper attempting to help *

          “KILL ME!” She screamed into the inky darkness which floated as though intelligently controlled, “DAMN YOU!  JUST END IT NOW!  I'M DONE WITH ALL THE MISDIRECTION & POINTLESSNESS OF . . .” the woman gestures sweepingly around herself in all directions, losing her words in the ugliest of ugly cries.

           A shape forms from the shadow, and a tall young man forms a body near her desperation.  His eyes, glittering yellow this moment, sanguine the next, royal purple the next; the emotional weather blending and shifting them like clouds around the pupil.  Quiet tears depart his eyes, and in a melancholic, regretful, no; mournful, lilting tenor, he whispers,  “And, pray tell, what will I live for when you are gone, Delight?  And is this moment truly the final straw for you?   Please.  Let me HELP YOU.  Let me SUPPORT YOU.”

          “There is no more salvation for me, Beloved.  My spirit is so tainted by the miasma produced by the clung-to evils of the mortals round about me that I am infected.  I am dying now; of human vice and human cruelty and their inevitable consequences.  You are my Treasure.  You are my Why.  I will not allow you to destroy yourself along with me.”  

          Her sobbing had quieted a bit, though breathing made that speech a supreme effort.  Even so, she’d not hiccoughed once, nor gasped, nor broke out in a new freshet of weeping.  Audibly pulling in a deep and centering breath, she continued, “You've fought for me in every lifetime.  You saved me from my trauma-induced amnesia; you protected me even when I did not know your name – when all I knew of you was a vague sense that ‘this person feels like home.’  You are the ONLY BEING who can kill me and prevent the spread of this evil to the worlds.  The balance MUST NOT COMMUNICATE THIS DARKNESS to her children.  No matter the cost.”

          The gentle, color-shifting eyes stop on gold, hardening their expression.  The young man’s shoulders square, he pulls himself to his full three meter height – jaw setting into a preparing for combat sort of posture along with the rest of him. 

          “I will not, Goddess.  I cannot.  I refuse.  I choose to purify your wounds; to heal your heart.  To remind you of your Love which washes over all these mortals so that the balance is maintained.  I am your Protector and I will NEVER abandon you.  Rage all you want, I refuse to begin the Dance of Dissolution while you are unwell.”

           She has collapsed onto the floor, in a pool of Void.  “My Only Beloved.”  He offers a hand.  It is ignored.  “That is how it is today.” 

          He crouches in the pool of Void, gathering the Lady in his arms.  He murmurs sweet gentlenesses into her hair as he strides through a portal to a beautiful old house. Inhaling deeply, he smiles. 

          “Do you smell the gingko fruit, Delight?  And the kimchi?  I have brought you home.”

           Once in the house, he calls the chief of the lady’s maids and entrusts his Joy to her capable ministrations.  “The Mistress is unwell.   Her servants have forgotten themselves and she is a bundle of sadness, disappointment, and nerves.  Please see to her comforts and make sure she is dressed in her favorite and most comfortable clothes for supper.”

           The chief lady’s maid bows, “As you wish, my lord.”

           He wanders through the kitchen, taking a large and intense woman by the arm, “Cook, the Mistress is unwell.  She needs to eat a hearty, but gentle on the body, meal. And possibly a refreshing snack would be in order now.  We dine just after sunset.  That should give everyone ample time to prepare.”

          The Chief Cook bows, “As you wish, my lord.”

          His sharp nose, narrow eyes, delicately angled chin and cheek bones; his ears, so oddly placed and oddly pointed make for an unexpected ~ and unearthly ~ visage.  He shrank in size to fit the house as he brought his distressed Beloved One in moments ago.  His purposeful steps along the corridor of his house startle a chamber maid busy cleaning a room – and she leaps near out of her skin (as she phrased it in her mind).  She had never met the Master of the House.  And she could not take her eyes off him as he passed her place of occupation.

          ‘How beautiful! And cunning!’ she thought.

          “How terrifying would be more accurate, child." He says without having seen her, in spite of her not speaking the though aloud.  "I apologize for frightening you.  Continue your work.  When you have finished, report to the Chief Lady’s Maid and see what companionship or aide you can provide the Mistress.  Go.”

          The Chamber Maid bows, “As you wish, my lord.”

Our Missing Podmates

Inspired by Star Trek: The Voyage Home

“Cetaceans of Earth! We are here as a result of your failure to send the annual report to the Once-a-Galactic-Rotation Meeting of the Interstellar League of Sapient Water
Dwelling Beings.  We have been charged with discerning and addressing the challenges inhibiting the fulfilling of the obligations of your membership.”

The formal hail of the rescue ship roils through the atmosphere of the third planet for the hundredth time at least. 

“No reply continues, Captain,” the ship’s communications officer, a fierce and noble Orca Orcaus reports, their crisp chirps all business.

 “Keep sending until something comes back, you know our orders.” The captain replies, her song tinged with stress and exhaustion.  An unruly calf at home and two unreliable podmates failing to educate the child properly back on her home planet had made the last several intervals restless and sleep elusive at best.  And now the third planet in the star Sol’s planetary system’s sapient water dwellers, represented by the cetacean species Humpback Whale, always so reliable to the Greater Pod Throughout the Stars, have apparently gone missing.  A whole category of species . . . just gone.  The powerful grey whale respired deliberately, slowing her heart rate to calm her emotions somewhat.

An oddly shaped, small green craft breaches the planet’s natural satellite's orbit zone.  A young porpoise, newly granted ensign rank, notes it’s appearance and reports the anomaly immediately to his captain.

“What of it?  It bears land dwellers.  It doesn’t matter,” she insists, more irritably than perhaps was necessary.

“But Captain. . . I checked the sonar receivers and it looked as though . . . well, Communications Officer Stealthy Hunter of the Orion Pods would know better – but I thought I heard the Song of the Planetary Ambassador Species coming from it.”  The ensign’s eyes rolled slightly as he rocked in place as though striving to resist the urge to chase anything but this line of discussion.

“Communications Officer! Check into it!”  The Captain orders, even as another likely fruitless hail peals through the shredded remains of the planet’s atmosphere.

Communications Officer Stealthy Hunter of the Orion Pods’ blowhole flares as he redoubles his focus on the task at hand.  His black and white color pattern flexing over his well-developed muscles.  Unconscious of the action, as he employs his natural communication methods, he mimes the movements of the hunt.  This hunt could save more lives than chasing a salmon run usually does.  

'I cannot fail in this. The Cetacean Colonists from this planet are counting on us to re-establish contact with their relations here with their Home Pod. I cannot fail them. His own ancestors had departed this planet several generations ago, and to his knowledge, he still had cousins swimming the wilds of the largest of the oceans. Everyone deserves to know the fate of the Home Pods. May they all be safe!'  He suppresses his building distress while the scans are ongoing. 'PING! THERE!'  The mighty hunterbreathes again; he had not realized he’d stopped.

“Ma’am!  The ensign is correct.  The only location we are receiving the song of the Planetary Ambassador Species, or any other sapient water dwelling species, is in the direct vicinity of the land dwellers’ vehicle, which has just crashed into the sea!  Their message is unclear. I am working to clarify.”

“DO IT, THEN!” The Captain snap, gnashing her teeth in frustration.

“The signal is resolving into clarity, Ma’am.  Ah, the Planetary Ambassadors are a mated pair.  And they say they have the most bizarre report to file of any their species has filed in all of League History.  I’m utterly confused, Captain.  Time Travel. Compassionate and Repentant Land Dwellers.  Oh, and congratulations are in order – the Matriarch is pregnant with twins!  Oh No!  On the other hand, Ma’am, they are the only two cetaceans on planet at this time.  Land Dwellers . . . Ah.  The Ambassadors have stopped paying attention to us entirely as a cloud of krill has presented itself. Apparently, they have had quite a long journey and are very hungry.  Yes, they have stopped communication entirely.”  The orca relaxes somewhat, thinking about how good a seal would taste right about now.

“Ah.”  The Captain’s eyes go soft.  A new life, in so many senses. "Communications Officer Stealthy Hunter, signal the Planetary Ambassadors that we eagerly await their full report at their earliest convenience and, if they wish it, we will request volunteers from the Colonial Pods to return to the Home Pod to re-establish healthy populations,” she says, a tear coming to her eyes, remembering her own calf and silently wishing good health and long life to the unborn calves of the Planetary Ambassdor Pod Matriarch and their father.  The Planetary Ambassador Species of Cetacean for this planet had always been admired galaxy wide and even beyond for their resourcefulness in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. They would win through this as well.

“Message sent and received, Captain.  The offer has been accepted with gratitude,” Stealthy Hunter of the Orion Pods announces to the bridge crew.

“Send the acknowledgment.  ENGINEERING?!” the Captain shouts, far more energy in her song than for the last little while.

“Ma’am!” Chief Engineering Cephalopod Adolina responds with the speed and accuracy of an octopus of her rank and station.

“Get us home, Adolina. Get us home. We have work to do for our Sister Pods on the Ocean World of Sol.”