When Isa arrived at the infirmary, the rest of the crew had already squeezed into the room.

Surya was fastened to one of the cots and held a drinking pouch in one hand and a snack in the other. His face looked gaunt and tired, but his expression was serious as he listened to the captain tell the story of his rescue.

"Where... are the others?" He asked, a sense of foreboding in his scratchy voice.

Captain Konrad slowly shook his head. "We only found you and Captain Leblanc. She did not make it."

Tears welled up in Surya's eyes, which he blinked away. "She was a good captain." A faint smile played around his lips. "She made sure I wouldn't give up..." His voice trailed off, and he took a deep breath; his eyes started wandering, hunting thoughts somewhere beyond infinity.

Isa felt a twinge in her chest and pushed to the front. His eyes focused on her. "Hi, I'm Isabelle, but everyone calls me Isa." She extended a fist, which he reflexively tapped with his snack hand. "I'm the navigator."

Surya raised an eyebrow. "Navigator?"

"It's a long story." Isa sighed. She looked at Rip. "I think we need more snacks."

46/X

#writing #fiction #smallstories #tootfic #scifi #serial #projectgatekeeper

The Mad Frank's Dreams: Post 14 Kan Lakan’s Dream

#FanFic #TheApothecaryDiaries
#Wss366 relegate

The carriage stopped outside the building. From the outside, it appeared abandoned. It was the kind of place where people who were down on their luck might shelter for the night. Only it wasn’t, and the locals knew it.

Kan Lakan looked out impassively and wiped a dew of fruit juice and rice cracker crumbs from his lips. His fingers drummed as he waited until a man emerged from the shadows, ran over, and bowed, keeping his eyes downcast, as was appropriate for a ruffian like him.

To Lakan, the man was just another faceless piece, so it made little difference. All he wanted was the man’s report. “Well?” he asked.

“Soldiers came last night and broke in, milord,” came a rough, apologetic reply.

“The woman? Was she all right?”

The man quaked at Lakan’s tone and burning eyes.

“They carried her out. Alive, I think.”

The lord relaxed. He should have been the one to rescue his daughter. She would surely have looked more favorably on him if he had.

Upon hearing that his daughter was safe, the fire in his eyes died, replaced by a look of contemplation. Unforeseen events were always part of a game. He was confident that he would win in the long run. Yes, he thought. His birthday was coming up, which would provide an opening.

“The Frank escape, milord. Your orders?”

Lakan made no reply. The ruffian has ceased to exist in his world.

As for The Mad Frank, he was a piece #relegated to the backboard until he was useful again. But as I said, that is a story for another day.

[FINIS]

#TootFic #ApothecaryDiaries #NMFic #Serial

Isa watched the assembler produce a new housing for the gate interface, its arms flowing through the build-volume at dizzying speed, creating substance from nothing. She looked over to the wall where her previous, hand-made attempt had left a sizeable scratch after her fit of frustration. At least there had been no damage to the circuitry; Marga had run diagnostics and checked everything twice.

She ran a finger over the little scar on her hand. Her only one. She had always let them get cleaned up during her med-checks. Rip had their whole face covered in scars. Most of them were small discolorations, nearly invisible, but others must have been painful or even life-threatening. She had pondered asking about them, but it had always felt too intrusive.

With her eyes closed, she tried to remember the scars she'd left behind.

The one on her chin when she fell off the tree in her parents greenhouse lab. The tree she was not supposed to touch, let alone climb. The one on her arm when she had tried to pet a stray cat with her best friend. There were many more, all fresh in her memories. Her mind had always been her most reliable friend.

She rubbed the scar again.

Marga's head poked through the door. "Ada will let us see Surya now."

Isa cast a last look at the assembler, which was nearly done, then pushed off towards the door.

45/X

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The Mad Frank's Dreams: Post 13 Auntie Chue’s Head Part 2

#FanFic #TheApothecaryDiaries
#Wss366 Resign

The Moon Prince laid down his quill with a sigh. “You’re not looking good, Maomao.”

"You should talk, Milord. You're the one who called me here. When I arrived, I found you had disregarded my advice and were working. Please inform your attendants that I am not to blame if you die.”

Oh well, it was hard to respect someone, no matter their rank or beauty, if they refused to take care of themselves.

A wan smile appeared on his face. “I did indeed call you here. Your sage words are badly needed.” He glanced at his attendants as if to say, “See? Let me rest.”

His attention returned to Mao just long enough to offer the excuse, “I had to see for myself that you had survived,” before turning to Chue.

He touched a paper with a finger, saying, “I read your report. Anything new to add?”

Chue bowed, pressing her forehead against the floor. “Mighty lord, Miss Chue is sorry. She failed to guard the gem of your eye and offers her head in payment.”

A frown touched Mao’s usually stoic face, and she prepared to plead for Chue’s life. “She’s a pain, but better than ‘Steel.’” She looked sideways at the mercenary who had rescued her. To Mao’s disappointment, she looked as healthy as ever.

The Moon Prince waved his hand in negation. “You did what you could. We would hate to lose such a valuable servant. Besides, We wouldn’t want to deny Maomao a dear friend.”

Mao’s frown grew wider. She might be a little fond of Miss Chue, like a bothersome auntie, but calling her a friend was taking things too far.

“Any fresh news?” Jinshi pressed.

“The Shaoh and Mad Frank have disappeared, somewhere to the north,” Chue said. “The Shaoh were seen crossing the border, but The Frank wasn't with them, so I believe he's still in hiding. When Miss Maomao is well again, I would like her to search the hideout for clues.” All trace of humility from her earlier confession of guilt had vanished.

“Take Böktemür,” the prince said, looking at the guard Mao had nicknamed Steel. “I don’t want her kidnapped again. The mercenary has proven herself to be a competent soldier and guard. And she's one of the few people who can keep Mao in line.”

Mao rolled her eyes. Now she needed to deal with both “Auntie Chue” and Steel.

But that is another story.

#TootFic #ApothecaryDiaries #NMFic #Serial

The Mad Frank's Dreams: Post 13 Auntie Chue’s Head Part 1

#FanFic #TheApothecaryDiaries
#Wss366 Resign

Mao had #resigned herself to being carried to the palace on a litter, less so that Steel and Miss Chue stood guard on either side of the procession. She wondered why things couldn't be handled more discreetly.

At least the litter was smoother than a coach would have been. Her headaches still came and went. Ginger and radish leaf tea, along with persimmon cakes, helped with the nausea. A coach would have been pure torture.

It was a relief when they arrived at the palace and were ushered into Jinshi’s office.

Mao sighed. Inspecting the prince confirmed her fears. “Pale. Low yang. He’s been working despite what I told him. Recovering from being poisoned isn't simple.”

The paperwork in question was stacked in front of the Moon Prince. It was way too much for a healthy man, and Jinshi was hardly that. “Just let someone else deal with that paperwork,” she thought.

If she had been alone, she would have just said it, but with witnesses present, she needed to present a veneer of respect.

The events of the last few months had been trying for both of them. First, Jinshi survived an assassination attempt by a hair’s breadth, and now Mao was recovering from a head injury.

Her assumption that she had been called to the palace to care for his wound was dispelled when he didn’t send the attendants away. Perhaps they had captured The Mad Frank. But if that were the case, why not just send a message?

#MicroFiction #TootFic #ApothecaryDiaries #NMFic #Serial

Isa entered the common room of the Tori, the aftermath of a restless night deeply imprinted on her face.

"Hrrmmmm." She wagged a tired hand at Rip, who had just filled a pouch with fresh coffee. They looked at the pouch longingly, grumbled, then tossed it at Isa and refilled the brewer.

A minute later, they joined Isa at the table.

"Couldn't sleep?" Rip held out a cookie.

"Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ada's face with those sad eyes." Isa sighed. "How is she?"

"She's fine." Rip sipped their coffee. "She's the most resilient being I've met. And I had pet water bears."

"Didn't look fine." Isa looked at Rip warily.

"She knows how to deal with her shit." Rip shrugged. "When she needs to be angry and sad, she is, and when she needs to be strong and focused, she will be."

"How do I do that?" Isa asked, her voice tired.

Rip shook their head. "No idea. You'll have to ask her." They kneaded their coffee pouch. "She's in the infirmary right now, waking up Surya."

44/X

#writing #fiction #smallstories #tootfic #scifi #serial #projectgatekeeper

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 100: 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus

#Wss366 Red (maroon) #TimeTravelAuthors 05/17. Sleep habits/schedule

There was no time left to discuss my mask with Emily because a servant had arrived and was gesturing for me to follow.

The inside of the house was cool and dim, carrying the faint scent of cedar and lamp oil. The furniture was sturdy and well-crafted rather than ostentatious. A painted icon of the Virgin Mary hung in a corner with a small oil lamp burning beneath it, all in the Eastern style.

Some of my anxiety eased. I doubted they would have in-depth knowledge of the Western style, especially how a Copt might practice it. My foreign appearance would help hide any mistakes I made.

The scholar standing beside our host reinforced this impression.

Our host was a stout, gray-haired man wearing maroon robes over a pale tunic. Though he no longer carried a weapon, there was still caution in his eyes.

The scholar wore layered dark-blue robes; the edges faded from years of use. A small silver cross rested against his chest when he moved, and his gray-flecked beard forked neatly at the end. He looked nothing like the clean-shaven Latin priests I had seen in paintings.

He studied me with open suspicion before politely translating our host’s greeting.

“Welcome to the house of the Delphinas. You have come at an unfortunate hour, but we will honor you as best we are able, holy one.”

I bowed, offered a silent prayer toward the icon, and crossed myself in what I hoped was a convincing imitation of a wandering pilgrim. Three fingers for the Trinity. Left to right or right to left? Muscle memory took over. Better wrong than hesitant.

“The girl is watching from above,” Emily said. Her words blurred with the scholar’s next statement.

“We have prepared a room for you to rest and refresh yourself before dinner.”

While, as a ghost, I didn’t need to sleep, the break to discuss the situation with Emily would be welcome.

“May God bless you for your charity,” I said as I followed the scholar upstairs.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri