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  • Lines 1/1/2026

    January 1st, 2026

    A/N: This is Eleonore Duplay – lived during the French Revolution of 1789 and Gian Giacomo known as Salai – who lived and worked with Leonardo da Vinci. After being offered a choice at the moment of their respective deaths, they have come to a strange in between realm under the guardianship of a Irishman name Finn O’Reilly and Ene. Tasked with creating “things” in the words of Ene, they now try to spend their time trying not to kill one another.

    “This is stupid,” Salai hissed. He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like you.”

    Eleonore ignored him. She’d had younger siblings all her life, including one little brother who was very much like Salai. She instead focused on her painting, the scene coming to her in a vivid wash of color. Two figures in a cave. Or not them, but their shadows, the light streaming in from the mouth of the cave.

    “That’s not what the shadows would look like,” Salai interrupted her concentration again. “You’re making it too intense for the strength of the light. There aren’t any lines like that in life, you know.” He sniffed in superiority.

    Eleonore’s brush stopped for a moment as she gritted her teeth together.

    “I know. But art isn’t real life, is it?” she asked, her tone as mild as milk.

    Salai, this loathsome brat she’d been saddled with, scoffed. “It isn’t. But it should be an accurate reflection, shouldn’t it?”

    Eleonore looked at him, an eyebrow raising in surprise. That was the first hint he’d shown of something other than shallow enjoyment of anything. His relaxed posture on the chaise lounge, flipping through a magazine and eating the new dessert that Finn had brought back for them to try—layers of thin pastry and honey, topped with nuts. She watched as a sticky string of honey dripped off the fork.

    Salai’s cultivated nonchalance regarding their new position made her want to hit him. She’d never struck her siblings in life, even when they deliberately tried to bother her. Her even temper had been one of the things she and her father had shared. One of the things that made Maximilien value her company.

    She took a slow breath and set down her brush.

    “Do you mean that art should reflect the life an artist perceives? Or do you mean that art should be real life?”

    Salai took another bite of his dessert, sucking the fork free of honey. His eyes rolled as he thought. “I think that art should be a reflection of what the artist sees. Or maybe what they also want to see.” He frowned. “But it should look like real life. And there are no lines in real life.”

    “But then how do we show more than just that one moment? How do we show who a person is, what they want? Art can’t just look like real life,” Eleonore said, thinking about David’s La Mort de Marat. “And lines are a part of life too.” She pointed at the door. “What do you call the boundary between a wall and the edge of a door?”

    “The subject should tell the story,” Salai snapped at her. “What does a woman know of art anyway?”

    Eleonore snorted. “You clearly weren’t paying attention to when El introduced us. I was trained as an artist in life.”

    Salai stared at her. Ate another bite of the dessert. “Were you any good? Have any patrons?”

    “No,” she returned with a distasteful curl of her lip. “But I would imagine that you wouldn’t understand the concept of working for oneself.”

    Salai sat up. “And what do you mean by that?”

    Eleonore raised an eyebrow. “Nothing. Only that you are remembered for being an eternal apprentice.” She turned from him.

    “Well, at least I’m not remembered for being unsuccessful in marrying a man,” Salai snapped before storming out the door, which slammed behind him.

    • Bluesky

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  • A Fiction Agreed Upon Hiatus!

    July 8th, 2020

    July 8, 2020

    This is going to be a weird post for me.

    First, I don’t like posting about myself. It makes me uncomfortable. I like to just exist as a conduit: my creativity flowing through me to the page for your eyes. But I felt, very strongly, that I needed to explain why I am I putting A Fiction Agreed Upon on hiatus.

    And because I am me and I will never make a story short if I can make into a epic (sorry, Hemmingway) here is a little bit of backstory.

    I came up with the concept for AFAU in 2016, during the summer. It quickly spiraled into the version you see now, with a cast of millions, world building, themes, ect. Then the American election happened, and I ended up changing some things. You see, in the original draft of AFAU, I was going to include far more “problematic” historical figures than the cast I have planned today. For example, I was not just going to have one Adolf Hitler, I was going to have TWO, a young artist and the Furher.

    This is because the driving thrust of AFAU has always been about how we (society) evaluate history and the people who make it. Would the Year Three Thousand look on a young Adolf, whose ambition is to paint, with pity? Hate? Fear? And how would it change their interactions with a Hitler who is at the end of his life, the murder of twenty million? How would that in turn affect his relationship with Napoleon and Napoleon with Robespierre and Robespierre with Machiavelli, so on and so forth.

    After November 2016, this changed. I knew I could not, would not, ever be comfortable with using Hitler. How could I be when global politics was taking such a turn to the conservative right? How could I interrogate people like Hitler (never mind the actual man), investigate and question without people mistaking my intentions, thinking that I was endorsing that kind of monstrous brutality?

    To be absolutely clear: I don’t and never will. Academic curiosity could never justify it in my mind. Hitler should go down as a monster in history.

    So I dialed it back. I re-evaluated my ‘cast list’. I made changes in response to real life. I know there are other creative minds out there who will insisted that you should never compromise your art to modern stresses. I don’t always agree with that.

    But I didn’t want to lose that angle. So, I didn’t cut all of them, but I tried to strive for balance. If I had Napoleon I needed to have Toussaint L’Ouverture. I wanted to question history and for history to examine itself.

    But now…

    2020 is a bizarre time to live in as a historian. I guess this is how Horace Walpole felt in 1793. You have beliefs about the world around you and then everything gets turned on it’s head and you just aren’t sure about anything anymore.

    Season Three of A Fiction Agreed Upon is/was going to dramatically increase the number of Historical Figure running around. Elizabeth the First, Catharine the Great, Lewis, Clark and Sacajawea. I had/have a long subplot about the Founders and Framers of the American Constitution that was going to loop Jerimiah (the alien who met Rain in the Louvre in season one) back into the plot.

    But now I don’t think I should. At least not right now.

    How can I justify talking about Thomas Jefferson, who knowingly, through his whole life, was willing and eager to prop up racism and slavery?

    How can I justify talking about Andrew Jackson whose legislature continued and massively increased the slow rolling genocide of Indigenous Americans?

    How can I justify talking about Magpie Jones, a non-binary person, who is going to have to keep explaining their gender identity to nearly everyone they’re risking everything to help?

    And the list goes on!

    The White Plague, the Second American Civil War, World War Three. Debates on what goes into recorded history and who gets left out and why. The scenes of militaristic oppression and violence on a resisting population who is trying to demand answers from their leadership.

    How can I justify writing any of this in 2020, when it is so fucking close to the reality we are living in?

    The answer: I can’t.

    I just

    Can’t.

    I won’t. It’s not the right thing to do right now.

    The same reason why I would not use Hitler in 2016 is the reason I will not write this in 2020. It’s just not appropriate.

    I don’t know when AFAU is going to come back.

    I do think it will eventually come back, mostly because it’s a keystone project to the rest of the Extended Universe, but it won’t be the same. I must do a lot of rigorous thinking about my approach.

    It is heartbreaking to post this. I’ve put a lot into A Fiction Agreed Upon. It’s important to me. But it’s still not as heartbreaking as what a lot of black, queer, immigrant or indigenous people are suffering today, right now, in 2020.

    And this is why AFAU is going on hiatus.

    Thank you for understanding.

    • Elaine.

    P.S. This is not to say that I won’t be posting. I’ll post essays, reviews, short stories or flash fiction. Maybe previews of one of the other million projects I’m working on. Just not AFAU. Not for a while.

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty Three: Arrivals. Part Three.

    May 29th, 2020

    Over the next few days Leonardo noticed a distinct shift in the mood of the castle.

    “Fencing?” He repeated when Aspen told them at breakfast.

    She nodded. “Yeah. Sword fighting for practice. It’s great for your reflexes and flexibility.” She took a bite of her breakfast, pieces of sugared wheat and dried fruit in milk. “Probably strength too, if you use heavy swords.”

    “Will you be teaching us?” Napoleon asked, casting a dubious look over Aspen.

    She shook her head. “I never learned. It’ll be Kami.”

    Leonardo frowned. “I do not approve of violence in that way.” He shook his head. “I do not want to fence.”

    “No one will make you, don’t worry Leo.” Aspen smiled at him then glanced at his breakfast: coffee. “But uh, you should definitely have something other than that. Otherwise Russo might make you eat that cup, too.”

    (more…)

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty Three: Arrivals. Part One.

    May 15th, 2020

    Robespierre had just rejoined them, and Richard was sharply reminded of how much he disliked the diminutive Frenchman when he limped his way up from the kitchens, into the grand entrance. He clutched the heavy shawl around his shoulders. He also wore a pair of heavily tinted glasses. He looks the part of a beggar, Richard thought. Robespierre hair had also been shaved down to the scalp and it appeared to grow like a wild hedge.

    “Cold,” he rasped. Richard had heard that something happened to his throat, reducing his voice to whisper.

    “Yes, it is rather. Here,” Russo pushed a cup of tea over to him. “You’ll warm up.”

    Richard rolled his eyes. Across from him Bonaparte had stood up to sit down next to Robespierre, who looked up at him. Bonaparte bent toward him, whispering something that Richard couldn’t hear but made Robespierre suddenly smile widely, stretching the scars over his face.

    “Aw, that’s sweet,” Aspen Strong said. She was seated next to Richard, also watching as Bonaparte and Robespierre bonded over something.

    Richard snorted and Strong nudged him playfully. “Come on. He was such a soggy plum after we got him back. Frankly this is way better.”

    (more…)

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty Two: All Burst to Light. Part Three.

    May 8th, 2020

    Maximilien focused on keeping his eyes closed. Even the very dim light filtering through made his temples throb in a muted agony. He knew that the subtle sting of something in his hand was helping to keep it at bay, he’d managed to parse that much since waking up. There was a lightly accented woman’s voice that kept up a steady stream of chatter, likely so he could easily track it around the room.

    “This is going to be cold, but the medicine in it is going to help the inflammation in your eyes. We need it to go down before I can start working on your corneas.” There was a gentle clattering nearby and he flinched. “I’m curious, have you always been sensitive to light?”

    He tried to swallow, throat still aching. But he was able to force the syllable out. “Yes.” His voice was a quiet raspy husk of what it used to be.

    “There’s not a single portrait of you with them on,” the voice remarked. “Was that a vanity thing?”

    (more…)

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty-Two: All Burst to Light. Part Two.

    April 24th, 2020

    PART TWO.

    Napoleon had always awoken early. He just couldn’t stand the feeling of wasting time on sleep. When he’d been on campaign, he would sometimes wake just after midnight to pour over his maps or wake his aides to send missives.

    Now stuck, he still found himself waking early, wandering through the castle, often ending up in the Harmony Susuki’s study, where he could easily spend hours reading through the various war reports that had happened since his death.

    Typically, one of the women would find him, chin propped on his hand, staring unblinkingly at the diagrams of battles long won.

    However, for once he was interrupted by something far more interesting: raised voices outside of the door. Napoleon leaned back in the chair, looking over at the door.

    “Are you sure you want to do this, Jerome? You don’t-“

    “I have to do this, Mags. It won’t take a genius to put together that Julia’s source is me. Since Miller saw Aspen they’re definitely going to know we had something to do with this if I stick around.”

    There was silence. Napoleon, cognizant of the creaking chair, stood up and padded over the door.

    “We’ll miss you. Everyone,” Jones said quietly. The tall negro was facing away from Napoleon, but he could see Jenkins face. The young man ran a hand over his face and sighed.

    (more…)

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty-Two: All Burst to Light. Part One.

    April 17th, 2020

    Maxime was drowning in blood.

    It was in his mouth, his throat. The very smell made his eyes water and churned his stomach. He was trapped wherever he was, standing in a warm pool of blood that he couldn’t avoid getting into his mouth.

    He wanted to scream. But he didn’t dare open his mouth, for fear of all of it flooding it into him. Then, much to his horror, he could feel it creep up his face. Into his nose, leaking into his mouth past his lips and clenched teeth. It stung as it got into his eyes, warm and salty as tears.

    He was fully swallowed in it before he finally decided to just open his mouth and let it happen.

    Maximilien woke with a gasp.

    He failed under an unfamiliar weight. Something was covering him from neck to feet and he couldn’t claw his way out from under it.

    I’m drowning!

    (more…)

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty One: Dante in Hell.

    April 10th, 2020

    Episode Twenty One – Dante in Hell.

    A/N: Specially formatted extra-long episode! Aspen Strong: Secret Agent: The Movie. 

    This was such a terrible idea, Aspen thought to herself.

    She was barely floating along, using just enough of a propulsion to gently drift towards the Bastille, which loomed ever closer. The red emergency lighting made all the blue controls on her panel pop, but only served to remind her that she couldn’t use any of them. If the Bastille detected any unauthorized  ship coming towards them and inquired, it would ruin everything.

    Such a bad, bad idea. Why didn’t I leave for Mars?!

    (more…)

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty: The Destruction Cycle. Part Three.

    April 3rd, 2020

    PART THREE

    “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Kami said quietly.

    “No.”

    “No, you’re not sure?”

    Aspen sighed and rubbed her forehead. “No, I’m positive this is a terrible idea. The number of things that can go wrong is ridiculous. But I swore to Magpie I was going to go along with this.”

    She was walking Kami and Harmony out to the transporter point. They were preparing to go pick up Cherry for the holiday break and then onto the interstellar travel depot to go to the Martian colony. The flyer was nearly prepared for its slow mission disguised a piece of junk. They had the information from Julia about the security rounds on the Bastille.

    Everything was in place, but Aspen still felt a horrible sense of unease. She was sleeping poorly, expecting Chikara Haruka and Marie Rivera to break open the door of her condo and arrest her. Probably hide her on the Bastille like they did with Robespierre and leave her forgotten in the dark.

    Aspen shivered and rolled her shoulders back, looking over her shoulder. Middleham was shrouded in mist, a light layer of snow and frost covering the stiffened and dead grass.

    Kami touched her hand. “You don’t have to, you know. You can get out of here too.”

    Aspen shook her head. “I gave my word.”

    “Are we ready to go, love?” Harmony asked gently. “You’ll take care, Aspen?”

    Kami walked over to the console with Harmony. She waved for a moment, face still pinched and then they were both gone. Aspen sighed and stood there for a long moment before finally about-facing to head back to the castle.

    (more…)

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty: The Destruction Cycle. Part Two.

    March 27th, 2020

    Leonardo cursed as he cut his hand on yet another piece of jagged metal. He withdrew it and examined the slice that ran along his palm.

    “Careful,” Harmony admonished, distractedly. “The dermal regenerator is on the table.”

    Leonardo slid out from under the ship and rolled to his feet, staggering slightly. He put a hand up to his head. It felt slightly fuzzy and Leonardo shook to clear it.

    He picked the regenerator and examined it. It was simply a metal wand, with a flat panel. Leonardo placed the panel over the cut, which was still bleeding sluggishly. He pressed the button on the top and the small machine lit up blue and hummed. Leonardo hissed as he could feel his skin knit back together. After a moment, he took it away. All that was a left was a thin pink line.

    Leonardo adored the future.

    He yawned as he turned back to the ship. Aspen Strong was on top of the flyer, using a laser tool to mold two pieces of metal to the top. It was blackened and already punctured with holes.

    “I can’t believe I have to do this to my ship. This is butchery,” she muttered.

    “It’s the Federation’s ship, Aspen,” Harmony said. He stood and stretched. “I need to go check in with Kami and Mags. Do you want anything?”

    “Coffee,” Leonardo said.

    Aspen looked at him sharply. “Have you had any water today, Leo?”

    Leonardo cocked his head. “No. Why would I?”

    (more…)

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty: The Destruction Cycle. Part One.

    March 7th, 2020

    Once Maximilien had given Charlotte and Henriette one of his beloved doves to care for. A moment of childish negligence and the poor bird was dead.

    He’d given Camille to Georges for careful keeping in the way he needed to be watched and as a lamb taken in by a lion, Camille had been destroyed.

    He’d carefully helped craft a document to free France from her chains and within months seen it betrayed and violated.

    Maximilien’s whole life was a constant cycle of destruction. He would nurture and build only to see it pulled apart like cooked meat as soon as he turned his attention away.

    Something must have been wrong with him, if Maxime could never care for things the way they needed to be cared for. Now, he was being punished for it.

    (more…)

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  • Season Two. Episode Nineteen: Human Needs. Part Three.

    February 28th, 2020

    PART THREE.

    Richard longed for a paper book.

    The slick glass tablets, thin a piece of parchment, did not hold the same feeling of satisfaction as holding a page and turning it to reveal the next. The slippery action of sliding his fingers along the screen was too fast, too immaterial.

    Richard did take solace in the fact that there now there was much more to read, indeed more than he ever thought he could read if given another ten lifetimes, but bitterly longed for paper.

    He’d remained in his room, today. The atmosphere of the castle was distinctly cold since the discussion of Robespierre. Leonardo had been his usual distant self, only conversing with the guards and the staff in tense, quiet tones. Bonaparte, too, had been quiet, reading and mumbling to himself in a corner of the solar lounging in a chair with his feet to the fire.

    Richard had no desire to speak to this self proclaimed Emperor of the French. He did not seek out the company of Leonardo. He felt the quiet disdain of the staff and guards. Richard, as he had for so much of his life, had no company but himself.

    He sat in his room and studied the grounds instead. The weather had stripped the leaves from the trees and he felt that there was snow on the way. Richard had noticed that it seemed to roll in harshly, unexpectedly. He shuddered. Were the seasons not even a constant he could depend on, anymore?

    (more…)

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  • Season Two. Episode Nineteen: Human Needs. Part One.

    October 11th, 2019

    PART ONE.

    It was an extremely strange experience to sit down in the ancient dining hall in front of a replicated dinner with Leonardo da Vinci across from her and Napoleon next to her. Aspen took a bite of her sandwich and watched Napoleon struggle with his burger. 

    “You don’t eat it with a knife,” she pointed out and took the opportunity to take some of his french fries.

    “I’m not some savage or student, to eat with my hands,” Napoleon snorted. He persevered with the fork and knife.

    Leonardo was clearly lost in his own head, eating with his right hand and sketching with his left. It looked like the designs of an eagle or falcon in flight. 

    Harmony and Kami were getting ready to head out for the night, standing in the entryway, speaking to Magpie. Richard was sitting at one end of the table, eating steadily and ignoring Russo who was sitting at the other end. She eschewed dinner, studying the maps of the land around Middleham. 

    “Is this whole damn castle built on a swamp? The only safe places to build would be inside the castle walls,” she asked aloud, pointedly.

    Richard scowled. “The ground is steady enough to hold the castle,” he snapped.

    Russo glared at him. “It won’t always be. You should see the state of the plumbing,” she muttered, looking back down. 

    Aspen hid her smile in her coffee. She wasn’t above being amused by petty bitching between the doctor and the Englishman.

    Above them, there was the electronic whine of an engine and she glanced up. Cutting it close, Jerome.

    Aspen stood and stretched. She grabbed the last bite of her sandwich and stuffed it into her mouth, getting ready to be relieved of duty. Let Jerome keep the keep, as it were. 

    But instead of the calm saunter that she expected from Jerome, the door exploded inward, nearly taking out Harmony. Jerome wasn’t even in uniform but he looked wild, his eyes red and breathing heavily. Everyone stopped and looked up at him.

    Before anyone could ask Jerome, he spoke. “I know where Robespierre is!”

    (more…)

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  • Season Two. Episode Seventeen: Invasive Operations. Part One.

    March 28th, 2019

    A/N: This part contains depictions of force-feeding and suicidal thoughts.

    “Why isn’t he eating?” Chikara demanded when she caught sight of the security screen.

    Rain shrugged, shuffling the pack of cards she’s replicated. The Bastille was not the most exciting posting she’d ever had and that included the six months she washed petri dishes for chem lab.

    “No idea. His mental state has declined steadily since he’s been a prisoner so he might have decided to simply,” she flipped the cards from palm to palm, “give up.”

    Chikara’s cheek twitched and Rain raised an eyebrow at her. “Is there a problem, Major?”

    “Keep him alive. He’s evidence,” she barked.

    Rain shrugged. “Yeah, in the case you’re building against me, no doubt. Why should I try and help you?”

    “I can arrange for you to join him.”

    “You can. But I think you’ll also need my help in finding the other two. What else?”

    Chikara was silent for a long moment, dark eyes inscrutable. “Because you want to,” she finally said.

    Rain blinked. These were the first words Chikara Harurka had said to her that she couldn’t outright disagree with.

    She set the cards aside and glanced at the viewscreen. “You have me there.”

    Chikara nodded. “You may use any means necessary,” was her final declaration before leaving.

    Rainbow smiled. Any means huh? Well then once again Robespierre, I apologize.

    XXX

    “They took me shortly after you were taken to the National Razor. I bore it for you, but they would not let me take your name. I was severed from you, because of you, Maxime. Babet lost her husband because of you. Lucile lost her son, the son you name, because of you.”

    Maximilien Robespierre would have given much to drive a needle into his ear, to prevent the soft voice from getting into his head.

    Eleonore Duplay was sitting beside him, her white linen dress drenched in blood from the neck down. She looked much like she had the morning Maxime had left for the last time.

    “Cornelia, I’m so sorry.” His eyes were dry and aching. He had nothing more for her, not even tears. It didn’t occur to Maximilien that Eleonore never would have wanted them, just as he wouldn’t have wanted hers.

    Maximilien had been disturbed from his visions when a hand roughly grabbed his arm and he was jerked to his feet.

    “Move!”

    Stumbling blind Maxime walked forward. The invisible barrier that had kept him in the room was gone and another pair of arms grabbed him and led him for what felt like hours. His eyes felt as if they had swollen nearly shut, reducing the world to hazy grey blur. Almost immediately his calves cramped into bunches of knotted rope in his legs from kneeling and sitting for so long.

    Maximilien could only assume this was when they would finally execute him.

    Eventually, harsh hands grabbed his bare shoulders again and maneuvered him into a room. It was blessedly dim. He was shoved into a metal chair, goosebumps promptly breaking out over his skin. His wrists, ankles, and neck were firmly strapped against the chair.

    “Hello again Robespierre.”

    He gasped. “Rain? Madame Miller? You’re alive?”

    She stood over him, her features blurred. “I am. Did you think the Federation was going to kill me? You really are from a very different time,” she said, her voice colored by humor. Maxime heard her take a seat next to him, her voice coming close to his ear.

    “I want you to know, I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I wanted change. It won’t matter much to you, but I am sorry, Robespierre.”

    He wasn’t able to turn his head at all, but he tried to make sense of her expression. Rain’s face seemed to be obscured by water. “What do you mean?”

    In her typically irrelevant tone, “you’ll see what I mean.”

    Lights flipped on directly over him and Maxime cringed away from the painfully bright light. There was the sound of metal on metal.

    “Open your mouth.”

    Dread built in his stomach as he meekly complied. Promptly a metal bit was shoved into his mouth, depressing his tongue and making so he couldn’t shut his jaw. Maxime recoiled and tried to squirm away.

    “Restrain him.”

    Someone grabbed his head, fingers sinking into the soft skin of his temple. A whimper tried to crawl out of his throat but Maxime ruthlessly beat it back. The would not have his submission. Not here, not when he was being held with no trial or accusation against him.

    There was a moment of stillness and the only thing Maximilien could hear was the thunderous sound of his heartbeat. Then there was a smell, like lamp oil only stronger.

    “I recommend you take a deep breath in,” Miller said. Maxime had no time to contemplate this advice before there was something rubber at his lips, in his mouth, at the back of his tongue and snaking all the way down his throat. There was the heavy taste of iron, the tube had scraped his tongue and he was bleeding

    He gagged and tried to scream but found he couldn’t make any noise at all. He tried to shake his head loose but the talon-like fingers just held him tighter. Down, down, down. Maxime could feel the pressure of the tube behind his lungs and all the way into his stomach. He was shaking when they finally stopped feeding it into him.

    Tears that Maxime hadn’t been able to shed for Eleonore now trailed down his face, scalding hot. The part of the tube still out of him was lifted over his head, so it was fed directly into him. After another painful moment of silence, he felt something being poured into the tubing, the cold liquid hitting his stomach directly and he gagged again. His toes curled against the metal floor. He gripped the arms of the chair, feeling his nails break under the pressure.

    “It’s very emotive,” someone said softly. “Is it the pressure that’s evoking the saline?”

    “You got it in one, Jerkins,” Miller said absently.

    “Why wasn’t it taking fuel? Some defect for a prototype to have.”

    “Classified,” Miller muttered. “Just shut up and keep him still.”

    Maximilien was enveloped in a fog of horror. Time slipped away from him and he was horribly unprepared when the tub was roughly yanked back out. He tried to scream but the best his abused throat could do was a croak. He was made to stand and promptly crumpled to the floor. Someone grabbed him under the arms and they dragged him back to the cell.

    As he laid on the floor, shivering, Maxime finally realized the totality of his imprisonment. He was not even going to be allowed to die. There was truly no escape.

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Sixteen: The Emperor. Part One.

    May 11th, 2018

    Episode Sixteen: The Emperor. Part One.

    Aspen set the flyer down inside the underground lot and flipped off the engines. She turned around to look at Russo, who was fiddling with the straps of her belt.

    “Well then, let’s go and meet everyone, shall we?”

    Russo nodded mutely.

    Aspen led the way into the castle and pushed her way past the double doors.

    Magpie was sitting at the grand table, fingers drumming on the table and looking over a spread of tablets. They looked up at Aspen’s arrival and shot to their feet when they saw Russo.

    “Aspen, and Doctor Russo, I presume?”

    They started forward with a huge grin on their face.

    Russo shook hands, looking surprised. “I don’t think we’ve ever met before.”

    “We haven’t but I’m delighted you are here anyway. You can just call me Magpie.”

    Russo nodded then gestured to Aspen. “I was told that you had a most,” she hesitated, “interesting project that you wanted my assistance on.”

    Magpie nodded. “Yes, I do. How much has Aspen told you?”

    “That you have a dead man living in the castle,” Russo said flatly. Magpie shot Aspen a raised eyebrow. She shrugged her shoulders.

    “That’s a partial truth. You see, we actually have two dead men living in our castle.”

    XXX

    Leonardo was woken from a light doze by a knock on the door.

    “Hey, Leonardo? Are you awake?”

    He blinked and shook his head, coming awake near instantly. He rolled off the bed and crossed to open the door. Aspen was standing there. Her brown eyes flickered over Leonardo’s shoulder and she leaned to the right slightly, peering into his room.

    “Something I can help you with?” He asked eyebrow raised.

    She grinned at him, shameless. “Funny, I thought Jerome might be here.”

    Leonardo fought the urge to flush. “Non, he went home.”

    “Hmmm, really? I knew he wasn’t a gentleman.” Aspen smirked.

    Leonardo put up a single finger, hushing her. “He has been nothing but proper. Now was there a real reason for you to wake me or are you just here to tease me?”

    She shook her multitude of braids back from her face, sobering. “Yes actually. We have someone we want you and Richard to meet. Magpie is waking his highness now, so come on,” she waved him on with her mechanical hand.

    Leonardo darted back to grab his notebook and the new lead pencil that Jerome had brought him and followed Aspen’s broad frame down.

    There was a striking black-skinned woman with long hair who was sitting at the table with her hands clasped tightly around a cup. She looked up as Leonardo and Aspen came down. She glanced over at Aspen.

    “Who is this?”

    Leonardo bowed at the bottom of the stairs. “I am Leonardo ser Piedro da Vinci, signora.”

    He heard her gasp and looked up, smiling slightly.

    Her brown eyes were wide and her mouth gaped open slightly. Leonardo noticed the way her eyelids fluttered as she glanced over his face as if trying to see if he was recognizable. Leonardo doubted it, the only (official) portrait he’d ever done of himself was considerably different than how he looked now.

    “Leonardo da Vinci?” She asked faintly, as he walked forward. “Like, the Gian Giaconda, Leonardo?”

    He nodded and she took a deep breath and braced her hand on the table. Before she could ask anything else Magpie arrived with grumpy looking Richard in tow.

    “Here he is! This is his highness Richard the Third, King of England,” Magpie announced grandly. Richard glanced at the woman then back to Magpie.

    “Who is this woman?” He asked. Leonardo winced, seeing her expression darken slightly. Magpie also flinched and Aspen buried her face into her human hand.

    “I’m doctor Primavera Russo. Jones invited me here to see if I can help you,” the doctor said and held out her hand, pointedly remaining seated. Leonardo raised his eyebrows. He’d been in the presence of many men who would have had her promptly beaten for such a flagrant display of disrespect to royalty.

    Richard’s expression went wooden and he stiffly shook her hand, before turning to Magpie.

    “I told you, I am not having anything more done to my body. Your doctors have already done enough to me.”

    Magpie looked hurt for just a moment, their goldish-brown eyes dimming and casting to the floor.

    Russo bristled. “Look, I came here of my own volition. Furthermore, it’s for your own good,” she sniffed.

    Richard whipped around and Leonardo took a step back while Aspen stepped forward.

    “For my own good?! How dare-” Richard growled.

    The doctor stood up and Leonardo realized that she’d been disguising her height. She was as tall as Leonardo was and seemed to tower over Richard. To his credit, the ex-king did not shrink away.

    “Yes, I dare. Jones is trying to do something nice for you, and if it’s true that you come from the 16th century, it’s something that you can’t even imagine. But if you’re going to be an ass about it, I can just as well leave,” the doctor snapped in his face. Leonardo looked over at Aspen who had her eyebrows raised.

    Magpie stepped between the two and with a little effort forced them apart.

    “I think we got off on the wrong foot here,” they muttered, before turning to Richard with a sigh.

    “Richard, please. I want to help you, and so does Doctor Russo.”

    Russo scoffed and tossed her head.

    Magpie turned to the doctor. “Also, about you leaving…”

    Russo raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

    Aspen stepped forward. “Well the Federation or, I guess Haruka, is not pleased with these guys. She already sent Rivera after them once. And I’m not sure how long it’ll take her to realize where we’re hiding them.”

    Russo frowned. “But this is why you needed someone to come here? And that’s how you found me?”

    Aspen shrugged. “Basically. So now that you know, we’re gonna need you to take, like a vow of silence or something.”

    The doctor’s frown intensified. “You didn’t tell me this earlier,” she growled. “I’m not wild about the idea of Haruka arresting me and sending me to do farm labor.”

    Aspen shrugged again. “We needed to get you here.”

    Russo growled again but was interrupted by Richard. “She should leave. I have already informed Magpie I do not wish anything more done to my body.” He turned his back to the doctor. “I will be in the chapel.”

    Magpie sent a slightly panicked look at Aspen and then at Russo.

    The doctor stormed forward, her curls bouncing. “Hey! I’m here to help, and from the look of it, I could completely straighten your back! But I guess if you don’t care about your quality of life…” She trailed off.

    Richard had stopped.

    “That’s impossible,” he said rigidly. “There’s nothing that can be done.”

    Russo stepped forward again. “Actually, yes there is. It should have been done when you were a child, but it’s not too late.”

    Richard finally turned, looking wary. “How?”

    Doctor Russo tilted her head slightly. “Well, I’d probably have to make you a prosthetic and replace the one you have now. It’s been done before. The only issue would be making you one when you can’t leave this castle.”

    Richard moved back towards her. “Replace it? How?”

    “It’s a little complicated. It’d be easier to show you if this place is wired for database access.” She looked at Magpie who was beaming.

    “Yes. Yes, absolutely!”

    Richard looked between them. “Are you sincere? My back could be as it once was?”

    Russo nodded. “Yes. I can do it.” She glanced at Magpie with a raised eyebrow. “I won’t be able to fix his attitude though.”

    XXX

    On the moon prison, The Bastille.

    Maximilien kept waking up, even though he never seemed to fall asleep. The light had burned into his eyes and a thin grey mist was beginning to obscure his vision. It felt like a hot needle being shoved into the base of his skull every time he opened his eyes.

    Max had never been a strong man, his childhood had been punctuated by illness that left him thin and pale. During the Revolution, he would work himself up to the brink and then find himself dangling over a long dark fall. Now imprisoned, he could feel his meager strength leeching away. While the bread and water were sustaining him, Maxime had no idea for how long until he would drift into that hazy space of illness.

    Maybe I’m already there, he thought as he opened his eyes and saw a figure standing against the wall.

    “Well this is certainly a fine mess,” Georges Danton said. “For someone who insists that he is irreproachable in terms of respectability and virtue you certainly find yourself on the wrong side of the law, eh Robespierre?”

    Maxime closed his eyes, heart racing erratically. Danton could no more be there than Camille could and he couldn’t bear the sight of his bloodied lips any more than he could his last vision.

    “Come mon ami. I thought you said you would love me till death, now you won’t even meet my eyes,” Danton goaded him and Max looked up flushing.

    “I do, I did,” he hissed. “I wasn’t the one who-“

    Danton walked closer and Max swallowed his arguments.

    He’s not real, he’s not real, he’s not real. He can’t harm you any more than the air can.

    “Who what, Maxime? I implore you, finish your accusation. At least time you do it to my face,” Danton’s voice had no trouble filling the room.

    Heart still racing Maxime found his feet and suddenly-

    He was back in his rooms. The window was open to the Duplay’s courtyard. The bedroom door shut but unlocked. Danton seated at his desk as Max paced.

    “You’ve been corrupted,” Max said, resisting the urge to shout. “You took bribes.” It felt like a slap to the face. Camille had vouched for his honor. Maxime told Danton as such and to his fury, the big man merely shrugged.

    Maxime gasped and staggered to the side, furious. Danton was still standing in front of him and with a cry of anger and grief, Max rushed towards him.

    He slammed into the white wall and fell back, the taste of metallic-salt filling his mouth. As his eyes fogged over he rolled onto his side and spit the blood out of his mouth. Max shuddered remembering his teeth being shattered in his mouth after he was shot.

    Maxime curled into a ball into one of the corners of the room, his hands clasped over his ears, nails digging into the flesh of his bare scalp. He couldn’t tell if it was his imagination or the past rising from its grave to haunt him but he could dimly hear the screams and shouts of the sans-culottes, the slish-thunk of the national razor, the shouts of the Convention. He desperately wanted to sleep and leave this nightmare but it refused to come to him.

    Maximilien couldn’t imagine being anymore miserable than he was and thought longingly of Rain’s house. Even Richard’s company would be welcome at this point.

    Cutting through the mist of blood-red noise, there was the increasingly familiar sound of displaced air. Maxime turned over and looked at the center of the room.

    There was a small loaf of bread and a pitcher of water.

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Fifteen: No One so Little Loved. Part Four.

    April 5th, 2018

    Episode Fifteen: No One so Little Loved. Part four.

    It was only a two and half hour flight from Middleham to Vienna, where Doctor Primavera Russo was taking her sabbatical. Aspen didn’t know what was she was going to find, when she got there and decided to practice what she was going to try and explain the situation.

    “Hello Doctor. I’m Aspen Strong, and I work for the Historical Reclamation Agency. My superior would like to know if you’ll come stay with us at Middleham for a while. Why? Oh because one of the most famous scientists in the Federation decided to resurrect a dead king with a spinal condition. We’d really appreciate it and you can stay in a renovated castle. But don’t tell anyone, because Chikara Haruka will come down on us like the wrath of god.”

    Aspen groaned and buried her face in her hand.

    “What the hell am I doing?” With a story like that she’d be lucky if she got away without being diagnosed with some sort of psychosis. She wouldn’t even believe herself, not if she hadn’t personally walked Leonardo da Vinci through the aspects of her prosthetic earlier.

    Aspen sighed and focused on setting the flyer down in a public lot. She was the only one, most preferring the convenience of transporting. She leaned back in the seat and stared at the Danube in the distance.

    “Doctor I need to talk to you,” she muttered and popped the door open. Evening was settling over the city. She brought up navigation, and turned right onto the street. She went over her words in her head, trying to figure out the sequence that would be most likely to work.

    It was only a short walk to the clinic Russo was staying at. Aspen took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

    “I’m sorry, we’ll be closing soon,” were the first words out of the bored looking receptionist’s mouth. Aspen frowned. The young man had his feet propped on the desk and he was reading from his tablet.

    “I’m looking for Doctor Russo. Is she here?” She decided to ignore his rudeness, keeping her tone light.

    His gaze didn’t even flicker. “I said, we’re closing soon. You gotta come back to tomorrow.”

    Aspen sighed and stepped over the desk so her shadow fell over him, then grabbed the tablet out of his hands with her prosthetic. He yelped and finally looked up at her, blanching slightly when he realized how tall and built she was, and that she was in uniform. She looked at what he’d been reading and blushed.

    “Look, guy, how about you get Russo for me, and I give back, alright? I’ll even ignore your terrible customer service,” she waved the tablet at him.

    Aspen had never seen a teenager move so fast, scrambling to his feet and disappearing out of sight. Aspen grinned and dropped the tablet back to the desk.

    Kids.

    She dropped into parade rest and glanced around the room. It was a small clinic, with washed white brick walls and some holographic displays of the brain or heart.

    “Hello? I’m sorry I’m taking any appointments now,” A feminine voice spoke and Aspen turned to see one of the gorgeous women she’d ever met standing framed in the doorway, still in scrubs.

    She was shorter than Aspen, but most human women were. Her long red tinted-brown hair hung in loose curls to her waist, even though it was kept back in a ponytail. Her velvet smooth black skin was clear of blemishes and her brown eyes were sharp and spoke of an excellent mind behind even better features.

    Aspen blinked and stepped out of rest, extending her hand. “Doctor Russo?” The doctor shook her hand easily, heart shaped mouth frowning slightly.

    “Yes, but I don’t know you?”

    “Ensign Aspen Strong. I Was hoping I could talk to you, personally. Not for an appointment,” she hastily added When both the receptionist and Russo opened their mouths. “It’s personal.”

    Russo frowned. “I really don’t usually.”

    “I’ll make it your time, I promise, it’s for Magpie Jones, from the Historical Reclamation Agency,” Aspen added, a touch desperately. Russo blinked.

    “Magpie wants something from me?”

    Aspen nodded, but kept her mouth shut. Finally Russo sighed and nodded. She turned to her receptionist.

    “John, finish cleaning and lock up here. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll get my coat, Ensign. There’s a coffee shop we can talk at a block down.” Russo disappeared back into the clinic proper.

    Aspen frowned but shrugged, falling back in parade rest. She only had to wait a moment before the doctor reappeared, untangling her hair from her coat.

    It was a silent walk, with the doctor leading. Aspen practiced her little speech her head again.

    The coffee shop was a vintage one, with actual baristas, and Aspen fumbled for a moment, and ended up ordering a mocha with a lot of milk.

    The doctor led her over to a window seat and they sat across from each other. Russo took a sip of her chai and looked Aspen straight in the eye.

    “So what does Jones want from me?”

    Aspen took a deep breath. “We would like you to come to Middleham,” she began slowly. “There’s a project we would like you to work on.”

    “Has Jones discovered something? They knows that I’m in the medical field, right?” Russo asked.

    Aspen nearly laughed. “Yep. We looked you up.  Milanese Academy of Medicine and Cairo University right?”

    “Yes. So I’m Jones’s first choice? Alright, what do they want?”

    Aspen sighed then placed her hands on the table and looked Russo in the eye. “This is going to sound, well insane, but we need you to perform an operation. Privately, on the premises of Middleham.”

    Russo looked at Aspen like she was crazy.

    “Excuse me?”

    “I’m serious, it’s very urgent that you come with me and examine a man with um, profound scoliosis,” Aspen said. Russo stood up, frowning heavily.

    “If this is a joke, it’s in terrible taste. I’m a very busy woman and I don’t appreciate having my time wasted. You can tell Jones that they can-”

    Aspen lurched forward, nearly upsetting the table.

    “It’s not a joke and I’m dead serious. Please I need you to come with me, to Middleham and you will see what I mean, but you need to come with me, please.”

    Russo looked at her dubiously. “You’re oddly insistent about this.”

    Aspen grit her teeth. “You’ll understand if you come with me.”

    Russo’s eyes widened, and she took a step back looking ready to run from Aspen.

    Aspen took a deep breath. “I know this sounds crazy, but we have the, the original owner of the castle staying with us and you’ll see if come with me to Middleham. I promise.”

    “The original owner?” Russo frowned. Then her eyes widen a fraction and she looked down at Aspen.

    “If I remember my English history lessons, that was a castle built by the Plantagenet dynasty,” she said slowly. Aspen nodded slowly.

    Russo held up a delicate finger and sat back down.

    “An original owner? One with scoliosis?” Her head tilted. “Do you have any proof of this?”

    Aspen shook her head. “Historical artifacts need to remain on the premises,” she emphasized. Russo sucked in a breath through her teeth.

    She took a moment to think, taking a sip of her drink. “If this is some sort of bizarre ploy by Jones to get more support for the reclamation project, I’m going to be furious,” Russo finally said.

    Aspen sighed and gave the doctor a wry smile.

    “I wouldn’t worry about that, the Boss had other tricks up their sleeves for that.”

    XXX

    “We’ll take the transporter,” Primavera Russo said as they left the coffee shop. “Which station did you come from?”

    Aspen gestured. “I took the flyer from Middleham. We’ll go back that way. It’s a two hour flight, approximately.”

    Russo tilted her head, frowning pensively. “Well, if you insist.”

    The two women fell into step, and the sun gradually set on Vienna.

    The moment Russo strapped herself into back bench and Aspen closed the door, she finally turned to face the doctor and blurted out, “we have King Richard back at Middleham and Magpie wants you to fix his spine.” She took a deep breath and smiled shakily. “Sorry, I hate lying to people.”

    Russo stared at her, eyes wide.

    “How?”

    Aspen flipped the flyer on, and powered the vertical engines. “It’ll be easier to explain it when we’re back at Middleham. Needless to say, it kind of a complicated story. You know who Doctor Rainbow Miller is right?”

    Russo’s look of shock deepened.

    “She didn’t, she wouldn’t!”

    “From everything I’ve heard so far, Miller absolutely did,” Aspen said grimly. “It’s worrying, we can’t seem to find her anymore…”

    Russo shook her magnificent head. “I heard heard from her intern, Kamala Manson that she’d gone on an extended sabbatical.”

    Aspen frowned. “That seems entirely too convenient.” She shook her head. She didn’t like this intrigue, not one bit.

    XXX

    The Moon Prison: The Bastille.

    “Is that what you’ve been telling people about me? Tsk tsk, Chikara. That won’t hold up under scrutiny,” Rain grinned and kicked her heels out in front of the chair. “Someone is going to come looking for me and realize I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

    Marie Riviera scowled, her heavy pale features washed out in the Bastille’s bright lighting. “The only one who will come looking for you is Manson and she’s the one who’s passing the information around for us. Major Haruka has thought of everything.”

    Rain smiled. Not everything. She hasn’t bother to make sure the information hasn’t been leaked. I’ve been watching.

    “Of course she has, Marie darling.”

    Rain turned her attention back to the screen.

    Whatever Robespierre was seeing must have been chilling because the man hadn’t stopped shivering for over an hour. It could have also been that Rain was degree by degree lowing the temperature of the cell. Exposed as he was, Robespierre must have been feeling it.

    He’d curled himself into a corner and from the way he rocked, Rain guessed he was crying.

    She rolled her eyes. She wondered if Richard or Leonardo would have held up better under the circumstances. She hoped so.

    XXX

    Somewhere in the American Northwest.

    The pack had been on the outskirts of the forest, next to a town when it happened.

    “Hey!”

    Ava lifted her head from the chicken carcass she’d been eating, fur bristling at the unfamiliar voice. A human male was approaching the pack and quickly. He held a lead in his hand, and a shepherd dog like Berwald, pulled him forward.

    Ava growled, planting her paws firmly into the ground. The rest of the pack stopped what they were doing to watch. Lester and Bobbie also dropped their meals, dropping into protective stances as well.

    “Whoa, alright there girl. Let’s just cool out alright? I’m not going to hurt you. Where’d you come from?” The male said quietly. Ava bared her teeth. The other dog tensed and curled back his top lip.

    “Kirk, get back, down boy,” the man pulled the lead slightly. He fumbled at his hip for something and Ava threw her head back, howling.

    The pack launched themselves forward as one, Berwald snapping Baby up in his jaws. Ava bowled the man and his dog over, racing for the tree line.

    Ava could fly over the ground, but she still out run the beam of light that locked her muscles in place and sent her muzzle first into the dirt. Around her she could hear the rest of her pack dropping to the ground with her. She wanted to scream her anger, but all that came from her jaws was a whimper.

    A shadow fell over them. The man and dog stood next to Ava’s head.

    “Yeah, we have a bunch of stray dogs along the woods. Bring some crates and water.”

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Fifteen: No One So Little Loved. Part Three.

    March 20th, 2018

    Episode Fifteen: No One So Little Loved. Part Three.

    Richard stared passively at had once been Middleham’s chapel. It was reconstructed, like the rest of the castle but it lacked all of its previous luster. The altar was dusty and the wood hadn’t been polished in a while. All of the candles were unburnt and the pews had been roped off.

    Richard walked straight up to the altar, and knelt, ignoring the dimness of the room. He breathed deeply, trying to focus on prayer. There’s no smell of incense, only stale air. There’s no priest or sacraments but for the first time since coming back to Middleham Richard felt a little better.

    Richard is…adrift.

    Somehow, Leonardo has neatly slotted himself into the new rhythm of the castle, like all of this is normal. As if speaking of raising the dead is anything other than evil and irregular. Leonardo acted as if he was born to this century. Richard remembered that Rain told them that he and the Italian were born the same year, Richard can’t see how.

    The castle’s inhabitants are just as strange to him. Aspen, the black skinned solider women, which raised uncomfortable memories of the Maid of Orleans, however she at least has been treating Richard with confidence so far. Harmony- a Moorish looking magician, or at least in regards to the magical map they used to find Richard and Leonardo originally. He’d seemed nervous around Richard, often tripping over his words around him. He doesn’t have any idea where Kami could be from, her skin is as pale as his but her eyes are dark and her face was pleasingly open and smooth. She’d been friendly with him, but distant, seeming to favor Leonardo, as everyone else had.

    Magpie alone had seemed to taken an interest in Richard, but Richard had kept his distance. Magpie reminded him of either a woman with very heavy features, or an extremely graceful gentleman, he couldn’t make up his mind. Leonardo had called Magpie a ‘knife’. Richard thought he understood, mostly, he’d met eunuchs in the service of his Edward’s wife. But he had the peculiar feeling that he didn’t have the whole picture.

    Richard let his hands drop from his penitent pose and stares up at the stain glass window. Like everything else in the chapel it was slightly dusty.

    “What I am I doing?” He asked softly. There was no reply from the portrait of Mary and the Christ child on her lap. Richard rubbed his temple and with a sigh got to his feet, staggering slightly from his knees going numb.

    “Richard? Are you in here?”

    As if in answer to his thoughts, Magpie was standing at the door to the chapel, hands clasped.

    “Magpie,” Richard acknowledged shortly. They stood there for a moment, Richard staring shamelessly and Magpie examining him in turn.

    “What are you doing in here, in the dark?” Magpie finally asked.

    Richard gestured. “Praying.”

    Eyes widening slightly, Magpie started towards him. “Really? Why?”

    Richard sputtered, but they appeared sincerely to question him. “I-I haven’t since Rain preformed her witchcraft. She had no chapel in her house, and I couldn’t find any cross to-”

    “No, no I mean, why do you feel like you need to pray?”

    Richard gaped at Magpie. “To show devotion, to God.”

    Magpie’s eyes turned from intently studying his face to the altar and glass window. They hummed under their breath.

    “You owned the first bible that was written in English, in Britain,” Magpie said. Richard nodded. “You considered yourself especially devoted to God, huh?”

    Richard shrugged. “I’ve always felt it was important, yes.”

    Magpie suddenly smiled, dark eyes shining. “I’ve always admired that about you, that you valued knowledge.”

    He didn’t know what to say to that so he averted his eyes to the door, and made a quick side step.

    Magpie held up a hand. “Wait Richard, I’m sorry I didn’t meant to interrupt you, but I did have something I needed to speak to you about.”

    They stepped over the rope, and sat down on the first pew and looked at him expectantly. Richard hesitantly sat down as well. Magpie brushed a hand through their odd silver hair.

    “We might be bringing another person here, a doctor. Her name is Russo, and Aspen is going to speak to her tonight. She studies the human skeleton.”

    Richard didn’t say anything, wondering where Magpie was trying to take him with this.

    “She could, well, she could fix your scoliosis,” Magpie gestured to his back.  Richard stiffened, frowning.

    “Pardon me?”

    “Your spine, how it curves. It’s usually done when you’re younger but she’s extremely experienced and-”

    Richard abruptly stood up, heart racing.

    “My back is none of your concern. It’s of no matter,” he snapped. Magpie looked taken aback.

    “Surely you’d be more comfortable with it fi- healed.”

    Richard shook his head empathetically. “I do not want any of this centuries witchcraft applied to my body, because the last time I woke up from death.”

    Magpie frowned deeply. “Well, she’s coming here one way or another. I hope you’ll let her give you a physical at least.”

    “Give me a what?!” Richard demanded.

    Before they could discuss it any more Aspen called out to Magpie.

    “Boss! Boss, Harm has an update on Bonaparte!” Aspen skidded into the room. She took a second glance at Richard but continued on to Magpie. “He says we have firm confirmation, an old security camera on St. Helena picked it up.”

    Magpie shot to their feet. “Let’s go!”

    XXX

    Leonardo watched in amazement as Harmony’s fingers flew over the glass, while the man stared up at the screen, muttering to himself.

    He had a sudden realization that this might be what others saw when they observed him. Leonardo grinned.

    Aspen, with Magpie and Richard hard on her heels. “You have a lock on him, where is he? Can we go-”

    Harm held up a hand. “I have a general idea of his location, but only one camera caught him.”

    He flicked his fingers over the glass and an image flew up onto the screen. Leonardo saw Richard jump slightly, in the corner of the room.

    “That’s him, according to the facial recognition from Bonparte on the Bridge of the Arcole.” The image was of a svelte man, who was frowning stonily, his brown hair tied back in a que. His features bespoke of some sort of inner nobility, but his clothes were simple cotton and he walked bare foot. He was being led with a stern hand on his arm. His eyes showed confusion, but not fear.

    “Oh my god, he looks like a baby Napoleon!” Magpie cooed. Aspen rolled her eyes.

    “Is that really what we should focus on right now? Harm, can you tell who, uhh, resurrected him?”

    Harm shook his head. “It’s not clear. There’s only a couple hundred people who live on the island now, but they’re mostly independent agents. There’s some small web businesses, a church, some farms. The security footage is from just outside of the church,” he added, glancing over his shoulder, lights reflecting off his glasses.

    “Is he in any immediate danger? Can you tell if the Federation has tracked him down yet?” Magpie asked.

    Harm shrugged. “There’s no activity in the area, so I’d guess we’re in the clear.”

    Magpie bit their lip and put their hands on their hips. “Keep an eye on him. Aspen has to go and talk to a doctor about a horse…”

    Aspen frowned at Magpie. “Boss, I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

    Leonardo looked at Richard, still hovering in the corner. The man shook his head, and muttered, “Don’t ask.”

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Fifteen: No One So Little Loved. Part Two.

    March 13th, 2018

    Episode Fifteen: No One So Little Loved: Part Two.

    Leonardo had been eleven years old, the first time he realized what he was.

    He’d been walking back from his mother and step-father’s house, idly swinging a stick he’d found. His gaze was on the sky, watching the birds.

    The laborers were coming in from the vineyards and the sun was setting over the hills. One of them had stripped to his waist, his shirt draped around his shoulders. The sun reflected off the sweat that dripped down his neck and chest. Leonardo could still remember the way the muscles moved under his arms and stomach. His first lesson in anatomy, burned into his eyes. Something uncomfortably warm settled over his skin and in his belly.

    Leonardo stood off to the side of the road, watching them walk by. Some of them raised their hands and waved to “Accattabriga’s son.” He waved back, eyes till firmly fixed on the shirtless man.

    As he grew older he realized what had happened that evening, the first touches of attraction, of arousal.

    And as Leonardo grew, he also came realized how dangerous it was.

    At seventeen he was arrested. While Florence was lenient in its policy on sodomy, Leonardo knew how close he could have been to imprisonment, or execution. This served as an important lesson in his life: no matter how much he showed, the truth of his nature should always be obscured.

    Until now.

    Leonardo’s hands landed on Jerome’s shoulders as they stepped close together. Jerome’s white teeth flashed against his dark skin right before their lips met.

    Leonardo shut his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose as a warm tide rushed through him, tingling starting through his fingers and toes. Then Jerome tilted his head slightly and there was a wet questioning pressure on his lips. Leonardo made a noise in the back of his throat as the kiss deepened. Jerome grabbed at his waist and pulled them flush together.

    The sun had reached its zenith by the time they pulled apart, and Leonardo ran a trembling hand through his hair. It had been a very long time since he’d been kissed like that.

    Jerome sighed quietly, and grinned at him. “I have to go home before my shift starts tonight.”

    Before he could think it through Leonardo blurted out, “I have a bed, you know.” Then he flushed.

    Jerome’s eyebrows had risen up to his hairline. “You know, in other circumstances…”

    Leonardo waved his hand. “I misspoke. If you needed to sleep, then I’m assuming that my chambers could serve.”

    After leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek, Jerome backed away. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I have other stuff I need to do, and my sister is expecting me to call her today.”

    Leonardo blinked. “You have a sister?”

    “Yeah she works in security too, doing something for the capital.” Jerome slung on his jacket, and smoothed down the front. “She likes me to call every week or so. But,” he winked, “I might take you up on that offer some other time.”

    Leonardo smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

    XXX

    Clio had been wandering around the prison where Robespierre was being kept when she suddenly blinked and was in another place entirely.

    Startled, she looked around and groaned aloud.

    “For the love of Zeus, what are you people doing now?” She groused, leaning back against a brick wall.

    The room was brightly lit by large windows going across the top of ceiling and the floor was simple hard worn wooden planks. At one end of the room two people were clustered around a computer screen. The woman was intently studying the text, muttering to herself. The man leaned over her, hand braced on her hard back chair.

    “I don’t know Lotte, are you entirely sure of this?”

    “You got what we needed, didn’t you Hamm? We’ve come this far. And I have it on good authority that Miller herself had something to do with this. Besides, can you imagine what the local government of Corsica would do for this?” She smiled.

    The man looked frowned uncertainly, but finally sighed and shrugged.

    “You’re funeral, Lotte. Let’s do this!”

    Clio turned her head and caught sight of a steel operating table, where piles of different minerals were neatly organized. Next to it was an old fashioned defibrillator.

    “Oh dear.”

    XXX

    The empty brightly lit room was quickly becoming Maximilien’s least favorite place in the world. His eyes ached, his stomach was twisted into knots, and there wasn’t a position he could lay in that didn’t make him bruise. Curled towards a corner was the closest thing he could find to comfort. He was mumbling the Declaration of the Rights of Man to himself when he heard the most unlikely thing: a dog barking.

    Max raised his head, eyes squinted. It was impossible but it sounded like Brount. He was hearing things, there was no way Brount could be here. His beloved dog was dead, like everything else. In an eternal sleep and lost to time.

    But…

    Max shut his eyes and laid down on his back, trying to pull himself back, back to Arras after he’d originally gotten the hound. He’d enjoyed talking walks in the evening, just into the fields, past the multitudes of cathedrals and churches. The puppy bounding around his ankles, and snapping at birds and rabbits.

    “Do you remember at le Grand, being told not to trample the wheat? Did you get a massive dog simply to spurn them?”

    Maximilien eyes snapped open and he looked over at the wall. Incredibly, impossibly, there was someone standing there.

    Camille Desmoulins flicked his hair back from his eyes and smiled at him. His head wobbled precariously and red blood seeped into his cravat.

    “Bonjour M-m-maxime!”

    Max’s mouth dropped open. Then he screamed, a rending, tearing sound that hurt his throat and ears. Tears involuntary came to his eyes with the force of it. He clapped hands to his eyes and buried his face in his knees.

    “Non, non, non, non!” He moaned. “You cannot be real, you cannot exist.”

    “You’d like that, w-wouldn’t you?” Camille muttered. “I’m sure it would be very con-convenient for you, Maxime, if you could click your fingers and make me vanish.”

    Horrified to his core, Max slowly raised his head, eyes still screwed shut. “I would never-”

    “And yet, you did,” the figure returned viciously. Then he stepped closer. Maximilien cringed against the wall.

    “You’re not real. You do not exist. This isn’t happening,” he told himself firmly, even as very real fear soaked into his heart. Camille ignored him (as he always did) and soon stood over Max.

    The younger man stared down at him before dramatically whipping off his head and throwing into Maximilien’s lap.

    The ghoulish face, will blood staining its lips and teeth smiled gently up at him.

    He screamed again, clawing at his own face as he scrambled to his feet, pressing himself to the wall and scuttling away from the figure and the head that tumbled to the floor.

    For a long moment the only sound was Max’s harsh breathing. He kept his eyes closed and pressed his face to the wall.

    “He’s not real. He wasn’t here. Camille is dead,” he muttered.

    Because I killed him.

    Max took a deep breath and turned his head to look. The room was empty.

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Fifteen: No One So Little Loved. Part One.

    March 8th, 2018

    Episode Fifteen: No One So Little Loved. Part One.

    Despite his dire predictions, Maximilien found that he was able to keep the bread down. Even better, his hands were left free, not that there was anything to do, but he hoped this was a sign that perhaps his jailers were coming around to the idea that Max was innocent of whatever crime they were charging him with. A little voice in his mind, one he’d been ignoring since his resurrection, stuttered, “M-maxime, you know exactly what they can charge you with, d-don’t ignore me.” He shoved it aside, the images it conjured and the hot flare of anger and grief in his stomach.

    In the meanwhile, he sat in the middle of his cell and wondered if there was anyone else here. Maximilien refused to think of it as the Bastille, since he was convinced that they could not possibly be the same place. He might not have been as well versed in architecture as he had been other areas, but even Max realized that a previously square prison couldn’t not suddenly become a circle.

    He had not heard another voice since his hands had been released and no guards had even passed by his cell. Did they intend to keep him here in solitary? Would this be his tomb, if the bread and water stopped appearing? And even if they did…when would Maximilien decide that it was no longer worth eating?

    It felt impossible to measure time, since the hideously bright lights of the cell reminded on at all times. He covered his eyes, sighing in the mild relief of darkness and curled up, facing the entrance. The hard floor was beginning to bruise his hip and ribs, but he didn’t dare sleep exposed on his back, with nothing more than what the Supreme Being gave him.

    Maximilien slept, somehow. Possibly his body was simply so fatigued that is just gave up the possibility of being aware, and let him drift away into a gray fuzz that wasn’t even mentally restful. Feeling worse than when he went to sleep, Max awoke to the sound of displaced air.

    There was another small loaf of bread and glass of water within arm’s length.

    XXX

    Aspen arrived at Middleham to see Richard walking around without a coat and examining the outer walls.

    “Good morning. Have you seen Magpie yet?” She asked.

    The former king shrugged. “There was a commotion this morning. Now they are gathered around Harmony’s screen.”

    “Did they say anything about an attack this morning, in Paris?” Aspen asked curiously. She still wasn’t sure how far Magpie was expecting to communicate with the formerly dead.

    Richard’s face stiffened. “They did not say anything to me. But Leonardo seems to understand what is going on, so they speak to him, instead.”

    Aspen winced and ran a hand through her hair. What must it feel like to have previously been the most powerful man in the room and now be talked over by strangers using your castle as a glorified office lot?

    “Well come inside with me, and we’ll find out what’s going on together,” Aspen clapped Richard on the arm. He stared at her, eyebrows raised.

    “What?”

    “You’re a maid but you speak to me as another man, or solider.” They started walking towards the door and Aspen snorted.

    “Yeah?”

    “It makes no sense. Are you like the Maid of Orleans, or do all women fight on the battlefield now?” Richard asked. Aspen shrugged.

    “There’s hasn’t been a draft on earth for over seven centuries. So only people who want to fight, or be in the armed force, are. Some of them are women,” she explained simply. Richard seemed to mull this over while they walked through the castle.

    It seemed that everyone else was crammed into Harmony’s office. Jerome and Leonardo stood towards the back. Leonardo’s head was tilted to the side and his gaze was on the screen, even as he restlessly fiddled with something in his hands. Jerome was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He grinned at Aspen.

    “Good of you to join the party,” he hissed. Aspen knocked the back of her metal hand against his chest.

    “So, do we know yet? Is it really him?” She asked quietly. Jerome shrugged.

    “That’s what Harm’s trying to figure out. So far the facial mapping hasn’t returned anything, and the footage of the explosion is too low res to see if anyone was in the room when the explosion happened.”

    Aspen twisted her mouth. “So…we don’t know anything?”

    Jerome nodded. “Pretty much.”

    Leonardo leaned over. “I have a question. We are worried about another resurrection, si?” Aspen and Jerome nodded. “Why?”

    Aspen blinked. “What do you mean why?”

    “Why is the possibility of another one such a concern? If this Frenchmen is brought back, we can simply find him, as you did with us, and bring him back here,” Leonardo said simply.

    Richard moved from Aspen’s side. “Are you saying you think we should just let it happen? Something as unnatural and devilish as the dead rising?” He demanded.

    Leonardo raised his hands. “I’m saying that if the process has already begun, and we don’t have the means to stop it, there’s more to risk by trying to prevent it.”

    Richard and Leonardo stared at each other, Richard with suspicion and Leonardo with careful expressionless.

    Aspen was spared from finding out if she would need to prevent a fight between the two by Magpie.

    “I don’t like saying it, but Leonardo might be right about this. We simply don’t have anything to go on until the recognition program picks something up. It’s possible that this is even unrelated.” They snorted, crossing their arms. “But that’d be a big coincident, for Napoleon’s tomb to suddenly be targeted right after someone figures out how to bring back the dead.”

    They turned back to Harmony. “Is there a way to have it run continuous scans, so we know the second anything pops up?”

    Harm waffled for a second. “That’s a huge order, boss. Going through the mass amounts of public visual fees like that…each search could take a full 24 hour cycle, and that’s if we know what we’re looking for.”

    “But you think you could do it?” Magpie pushed. Harm gave them a shaky smile.

    “Sure?”

    “Atta boy.”

    Aspen smiled at Harm over Magpie’s shoulder and gave him a big thumbs up. Next to her Jerome was suppressing his laughter. She quickly dropped her hand when Magpie turned around.

    “Well, there’s no point crowding him now. Anyway, Aspen I need to see you in my office,” they flicked their ring burdened fingers at the door.

    Everyone but Harm and Kami evacuated the office. Richard immediately making for the first floor. Leonardo wandered away but Aspen saw him give Jerome a glance before turning around. She tsked at him. He shrugged and grinned.

    “I’m clocking out. I’ll see you later.”

    Before Aspen could tease anymore Magpie appeared at her elbow. Coming up just past Aspen’s shoulder, they hovered like their namesake.

    “Have a good day Jerome. Aspen.”

    She nodded and followed them back to their office. As soon as the door closed the Agency director sat down at the desk and folded their hands neatly on top of it.

    “Have you given any more thought to our previous discussion?” They asked promptly. Aspen stared at them wide eyed.

    “Uhhh?”

    Magpie frowned and tilted their head, silver bangs falling over. “The XD? A doctor for Richard?”

    “Oh right! No, I haven’t. Why, did you find someone?” Aspen sat down, leaning forward on her knees. Magpie turned on the desk and flicked a file across the top of it.

    “Check her out.”

    Aspen raised an eyebrow. “Primavera Russo?”

    “She’s out of The Milanese Academy of Medicine for her focus, osteology. Then Cairo University for her second…”

    “Biodiversity and infectious dieses?” Aspen looked at Magpie questionably. “Why’s that matter?”

    “She’s been a leading expert in the field of study extinct or rare dieses. Historical ones.” Magpie nodded significantly.

    “She sounds like a lock.”

    “I think so, which is why I want you to go talk to her.”

    Aspen jerked back. “What? Me, why?”

    “I’m a higher profile, in regard to the Federation. You’ll be able to move across the security checkpoints easier, and you’ll need to get used to the subterfuge.”

    Now totally lost, Aspen stared at Magpie. “What? What subterfuge?”

    Magpie sighed. “This morning’s incident reminded me of something. It was just a brief clip in the news but almost two weeks ago there was a rash of grave robbing. The official report was alien dissidents, but I’m beginning to think that it was probably another person who knows about whatever Rain used to bring back Richard and Leonardo.”

    They stood up and paced behind their chair while Aspen considered this.

    “If it’s somehow…leaked that there’s a technology to bring people back from the dead, then we’ll need to keep moving quickly to keep them from falling into the wrong hands. Can you imagine the damage some of these people could do? I know we’re talking about Napoleon now but there’s greater evils that le petit caporal.”

    Magpie met Aspen’s eyes. They both frowned.

    “You don’t think, not him.”

    “I dread it.”

    Aspen stood up. “Send me Doctor Russo’s information. I’ll find her after I clock out today. If you’re right, then we definitely want to stay under the radar, and if I go after work it’ll look more personal.”

    Magpie smiled. “Thanks Aspen.”

    She waved it off, but something cold had settled in her stomach. What had she gotten herself into?

    XXX

    Jerome Jenkins made his leisurely way around the castle, humming under his breath. His jacket was slung over his arm and he paused to look in every open door.

    As he strolled he reflected on the morning’s events. It would be an interesting next few days he was sure. He grinned to himself, in a number of ways, probably.

    After spending nearly a half an hour searching Jerome found Leonardo in an out of bounds area, the southwest tower. The tower still had many of its original stones that crumbled and flaked under Jerome’s finger tips when he brushed his hand over them.

    Leonardo did not look up from where he was sketching away, eyes and hands focused exclusively on the paper.

    “I wondered if you were going to find me,” the Italian said lowly, without taking his eyes away from the paper. Jerome leaned against the tower wall, and peered down. It was without a doubt far enough to kill a man. He swallowed and leaded back.

    “I hoped that I wasn’t misreading the, situation,” Jerome said slowly. Leonardo finally looked at him and his light brown eyes were alight with playfulness. A familiar smiled was on his face.

    “And what situation do you think that is, Signore Jerome?”

    Instead of answering Jerome draped his jacket over the wall and took a step towards Leonardo. He was taller, but only barely.

    “Why don’t you put that sketchbook down and find out?” He challenged quietly. Leonardo’s smiled widened and Jerome braced himself.

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Fourteen: Crime. Part Three.

    March 1st, 2018

    Episode Fourteen: Crime. Part Three.

    Maximillien didn’t know how long he’d been alone when suddenly there was a small sound like displaced air and the unmistakable smell of bread hit him. He looked up from where he’d pressed his face into his knees, mumbling Rousseau’s Emille.

    There was a brown lump sitting in the middle of the floor and next to it, a glass of some sort. Max scrambled to it as fast as his prone form would allow. His stomach been long empty and he’d been feeling lightheaded. Next to it was water, and he licked his dry lips.

    He stared down at the bread and wondered if he was intended to eat it with his hands still bound when a voice spoke from on high.

    “If you promise to comply, we will release your restraints.”

    Two passions warred passionately in his mind for a moment. The base, animal desire for food, nutrition, a full stomach against his righteous indignation against his unjust imprisonment and not wanting anything to be easy for his captors.

    Eventually, as if just to spite him, his stomach growled loud enough to echo in the plain white room and Max sneered.

    “I will comply. Please, unbind your wretch.”

    There was the sound of displaced air again and suddenly his hands were free.

    Max had never tasted anything better than that bread. Nothing had been sweeter than the pure water than ran over his lips and tongue. He tried to pace himself, knowing that he could easily make himself sick if he went too fast but every bite seemed to simply make him hungrier.

    XXX

    “What’s your game, Miller?” Chikara asked, frowning. Her arms were stiff behind her as she watched the naked form stuff his mouth with bread. Next to her Miller sighed.

    “We’re developing a base line, and a little bit of insurance. He needs to think that we’re trustworthy before we mess with his head.”

    “Explain.”

    “Please.” Chikara looked at Miller blankly. “You’re supposed to ask politely when you want something Major. You say, ‘please explain’.”

    Chikara took out her laser pistol. “You will explain now, on the orders of the Terren Federation or suffer the consequences.”

    Miller looked at her and then at the weapon in her hand. “Did you threaten your way to the top Chikara? Haven’t you ever played nice with anyone?”

    “That is not information you need to know, now tell me what I need to know.”

    Miller pushed the barrel away from her distastefully. “Fine. Look at this.”

    She pulled up an information file, a civilian accessible one. There was nothing really special about it. It was about some sort of plant.

    “What does it do?” Chikara finally had to ask.

    “In essence, it’ll cause him to have visual and audio hallucinations. Fairly intense ones if anything I’ve read is correct. In addition it can also cause headaches, vomiting, diarrhea, fever, chills, so on and so forth. Point is, it’s not a good time.”

    “You’re just going to make him ill? What’s the point?”

    “Did you just ignore the first part of my description?” Miller asked impatiently. “The object is to get him to have hallucinations. If you’ve read his biography, it seems to me Robespierre is a gentleman with a lot of regrets. So if I were to play something like,” here Miller pressed a button and the sound of a hound barking filled the room. “This, he’ll probably think there are literal hellhounds after him, to punish him.”

    “He’s so superstitious?” Chikara sneered. Miller shook her head.

    “No. But our emotions do funny things when we’re stressed.” She turned from Chikara. “Trust me, this will work.”

    XXX

    Clio was startled.

    This was unusual, because part of the very MO of being a Muse was to understand what what going on, wherever you were, but here she was: startled.

    “What nowI?” she asked and crossed her arms.

    Rain was bent over her computer terminal, giggling like a small child. She was on some sort of file sharing site, something buried layers deep, hosted on some ancient server and deliberately esoteric.

    “You’re a regular witch, you know that?” She asked Rain’s head. “Simply terrible.”

    “Oh I don’t know, I like her. She could be a great Trickster if she wasn’t so self-absorbed,” the Hyena sounded tired.

    “So was Endor, but no one even remembers her now days,” Clio sniped back. She leant over rain’s shoulder. “She’s trying to pass on her wisdom.”

    “Good for her.”

    “Bad for everyone else,” Clio paused. “They’re humans. They’ll try it. They’ll succeed. Rain’s holding their hand through it. Whoever they bring back next…”

    “Is not my problem. This is all your show, sister.”

    Clio rolled her eye, ignoring the sting of being called sister. “Thanks for your support. Go help your human.”

    “He’s out of my hands now,” Spectra said quietly. Clio gasped.

    “Spectra!”

    “It’s all up the Unknown now.” She grinned suddenly. “Perhaps Frank’s death will buy his life.”

    The Hyena was gone before Clio could wince at the crassness.

    XXX

    Aspen was woken from a dead sleep by an alarm blaring. She went from unconscious to on fire in a half second.

    “Turn to any news channel!” Jermone barked as soon as he flipped the feed on. Aspen switched over to the music feed she’d been watching before she passed out after she got home last night.

    “This morning, November the 25th, in Paris, there was a concentrated droid attack on the Hôtel des Invalides. The attack damaged the east wall and the tomb of Napoleon the First. The Emperor’s tome was cracked, but appears to be intact. Thus far no Alien governments have come forward with any suspicious figures. Major Haruka has yet to release a statement.” The broadcast repeated while Aspen stared in stunned amazement.

    “Napoleon?” She said.

    “Magpie wants you here on the double. They’re convinced this is no coincident,” Jerome warned. Aspen pulled off her over large sleep shirt, the one with Blanche on it, and started untangling her braids.

    “Has Harm seen anything?” Her voice was muffled, as she pulled on the layers of her uniform. Undershirt, long sleeve, lightweight armor, dark blue uniform jacket with the white detailing around the shoulders.

    “He and Kami are on their way right now. They have a have other problems to worry about then just our domestic troubles.”

    Aspen did up her trousers and buckled the belt. “Switch over to the headset,” she ordered the computer, slipping on the c shaped bit of silicone over her ear and tapping her temple. A miniature portrait of Jerome appeared in the right hand corner of her vision.

    “How are the guys?” She asked, jogging down the stairs and getting into her personal transport, prepared to gun it from Alexandria to York.

    “Asleep. Or at least I think so. Leonardo stayed up speaking to me, but Richard disappeared by midnight.”

    “Spirits Jerome, he’s been alive for less than a year, quit hitting on him.”

    He grinned. “What makes you think it’s me?” The banter relaxed them both and Aspen took a deep breath, focusing.

    “Cause it’s always you.”

    XXX

    Rain smiled to herself, sipping her tea and nibbling on a scone.

    It hadn’t been very hard to find a taker for the information she was selling. A little nudge and all of Chikara’s plans unraveled. She could lock Rain up all she wanted, but she could never put the knowledge that Rain had passed down once it was out of the box.

    Even now it was making the rounds on the deep web. Posing as an alien, she’d sold the information, the process, the evidence. Requests trickled, rained and poured in. it had been taken from the hosting website within hours and re-posted and re-uploaded. Chikara would be hard pressed to find the original, and even now it wasn’t as if she contain it, there wasn’t enough code blockers in world.

    God bless the internet and it’s virus like tendencies.

    Rain watched and crews cleared away the rubble the wall, and carefully examined the tomb of Napoleon Bonaparte for damages.

    All it takes is a single strand of intact DNA. Crack open that tome and you’ll have the raw data for an entire army of Bonapartes.

    Now there was an idea to make the Federation tremble, an entire army of un-ID’d egomaniac white men. Rain could hardly stop herself from laughing.

    The door opened behind her and Rain turned her chair around to see Chikara Haruka standing there, the bright white light of the Bastille framing her. Marie Rivera stood behind her, an unmovable behemoth of carefully groomed muscle, waiting to snap Rain’s neck.

    “I’ve been watching the news. Seems like you have quite a situation, down there.”

    Chikara took slow measured steps to her. Rain couldn’t stop smiling, even as her fingers and toes tingled.

    “What are you gonna do about, Major?”

    Chikara was standing next to her now, eyes fixed on the news feed. The camera focused on the crack of the tome. Dust was spilling out of it.

    “You can keep me up here and place an embargo on all of the Komali data, but,” Rain laughed, “You can’t stop it now, the fox is in the henhouse.”

    Chikara stared at her, her dark eyes unfathomable. “Is that what you think, Doctor Miller? You think the entire weight of the Federation, an entire united people can not find one pre-electronic savage? You think I don’t have the power to make sure that whatever you’ve done can be undone?”

    She leaned down, bracing her hands on Rain’s seat. “You have no idea what wars I fought to ensure the unity of the Federation. This is one battle, and it will be over quickly. You’re ideas have failed and when I track the dissenters who wrought this, they will be the first to test your theories on breaking a man’s mind.”

    Chikara stepped back. “Marie, you’re going to be Doctor Miller’s personal guard from this moment. She does not take breath without my grace.” She did a sharp about face and Marie saluted, her hand over her heart.

    “I have to go clean up her mess now.”

    Bring back another dead person already!

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