tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-119687192024-03-24T19:34:15.818-04:00KATE WOODBURY FICTIONKate Woodbury Fiction showcases published, soon-to-be published, and unpublished works by Katherine Woodbury. Readers can reach a list of Kate's published novellas through Peaks Island Press as well as her most recent series: Myths Endure in Maine and Myths Endure on Mars. Non-fiction talks and essays are located under Papers & Talks as well as on Votaries of Horror and Romance & Manga.
Chapters of works-in-progress appear below. Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-13810535767151333262024-03-22T08:00:00.007-04:002024-03-22T08:25:22.990-04:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 11, Part II<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8hb9SG74m3u24ZuytDajGPxvqiB_oUlViXQuDyN9AVHXB2Oi-nA5ifipjLx4IvmnaVwjds9ZxmMDUtCA4-vLpdWk0ZanhyphenhyphenV2Q2-6u82iw1GBEiNJZ7HklBqXWyEMpacJitOE0m0F12cvFD_b2HsvbdPw_NNuZ7Tt2nDIG1OillkQ2ZnH_4L05RA/s826/Halloween%20Queen%20Crown.jpg" style="clear: right; display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="826" data-original-width="591" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8hb9SG74m3u24ZuytDajGPxvqiB_oUlViXQuDyN9AVHXB2Oi-nA5ifipjLx4IvmnaVwjds9ZxmMDUtCA4-vLpdWk0ZanhyphenhyphenV2Q2-6u82iw1GBEiNJZ7HklBqXWyEMpacJitOE0m0F12cvFD_b2HsvbdPw_NNuZ7Tt2nDIG1OillkQ2ZnH_4L05RA/w160-h223/Halloween%20Queen%20Crown.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All parts from the costume box.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody></tbody></table>Pan and Kaiden found Lider questioning a group of youngsters about games on board. Miles was one of the youngsters and gave Pan and Kaiden a cheeky wave.
<p>Lider said, “The ship has an extensive library.”</p>
<p>“Some of the dance games are okay.”</p>
<p>“Charades are better.”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell the captain to keep the costume box,” Lider said. </p>
<p>The kids chorused agreement and departed.</p>
<p>“Charades and amateur theatrics,” Kaiden said.</p>
<p>“Only for passengers under the age of twelve,” Lider said. “Unless for religious purposes.”</p>
<p>The light on the observation deck was dimmer than in the corridors. Lider appeared more corporeal, a man near Kaiden’s height with what Allec called an Elvin look. Pan could make out the wide mouth and steady gaze. </p>
<p>He still couldn’t read Lider’s expression, how serious Lider was with his “religious purposes” quip. Pan guessed that Lider could be entirely sincere and acerbic at the same time. Allec maintained that Lider was more spiritual than Rhys, which meant he upheld beliefs in numerous doctrines. Cubi, everyone said, were good at juggling seeming contradictions.</p>
<p><i>I need an honest Cubus right now. </i></p>
<p>Pan said, “You and Rhys are investigating something to do with the Moon, something Junad told you about me.”</p>
<p>“Rumors. An investigation requires leads. I’m not sure these count.”</p>
<p><i>Not an answer. </i></p>
<p>“That’s sounds totally evasive,” Kaiden muttered.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrmxYPs_0hkCC566fJxhaE4GJ6VDPKrDuhJgnrfYpXEY96f3otoZ7Eket-kLuKkCYbyBxxzjq8v6hYsHn-ND7ZWLtep3MxFj4BbbhWXSpK5CZgNBLyDP4cU_UlzZ8zJpIHea0Vw5vUVgqs5_pdCy59tixbN8PT3Znc0DdxO2u3KcwjxpLyXN9OTQ/s292/St%20Bettelin.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="292" data-original-width="172" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrmxYPs_0hkCC566fJxhaE4GJ6VDPKrDuhJgnrfYpXEY96f3otoZ7Eket-kLuKkCYbyBxxzjq8v6hYsHn-ND7ZWLtep3MxFj4BbbhWXSpK5CZgNBLyDP4cU_UlzZ8zJpIHea0Vw5vUVgqs5_pdCy59tixbN8PT3Znc0DdxO2u3KcwjxpLyXN9OTQ/w129-h219/St%20Bettelin.jpg" width="129" /></a></div>Pan had good reasons to keep Kaiden around, and Lider smiled. Pan clearly saw the lips tip upwards.<p></p>
<p>Lider said, “Francesca’s Cubus—”</p>
<p>“Arysllwr,” Pan said.</p>
<p>“Yes. Will. He thinks a connection may exist between you and a medieval saint.”</p>
<p>Kaiden whistled. Pan nodded. A<i> connection may exist between you and a medieval saint </i>sounded like one of his mother’s tales. <i>A prince from ages past. </i>It implied a lot for things that most Anthros wouldn’t accept.</p>
<p>Silence fell, and Pan became aware that he hadn’t reacted to Lier’s announcement, not with a casual whistle or a protest or an exclamation. He slued his eyes towards Lider’s ghost face.</p>
<p>Expressionless. Maybe. The eyes seemed sharper, more critical than Pan remembered from previous encounters. Lider as fully human would make as unnerving an impression as he did as a Cubus.</p>
<p><i>Another role model for me. </i></p>
<p>Lider said, “Maybe someone mentioned the medieval association to you?”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqESPYaoPSLumr33la1yCTfCFBUFR4P-PGZ2gcV5AIsDQ8H0y_xfrzDn9xetNU92x6D5JegwCcs_mRllmWpAR5L0m_liqC4tGjaHCAOw_N9dzNnSQ8O69hNJh6AFopyYTMuqXFczr1sfcvqOnJ-dfpHx2ECvNfOQwiv95VNyLObn38eSkrtlSkPg/s1024/Bears%20Woods.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqESPYaoPSLumr33la1yCTfCFBUFR4P-PGZ2gcV5AIsDQ8H0y_xfrzDn9xetNU92x6D5JegwCcs_mRllmWpAR5L0m_liqC4tGjaHCAOw_N9dzNnSQ8O69hNJh6AFopyYTMuqXFczr1sfcvqOnJ-dfpHx2ECvNfOQwiv95VNyLObn38eSkrtlSkPg/w210-h140/Bears%20Woods.webp" width="210" /></a></div>“No—at least—I never heard about a saint. Raine and Ruella thought I was something—anachronistic. Not their word. Unnatural.”
<p></p><p>Lider’s brows drew together. “You never mentioned they criticized you.”</p>
<p>“Thought I should keep it to myself.”</p>
<p>Lider muttered, “You and Will think alike.”</p>
<p>“How long has Will thought I had a medieval connection?”</p>
<p>“Too long without telling anyone. Cubi have rules, some acknowledged, some not. How much they tell, how much they admit, how much they remember is a toss-up.”</p>
<p>“Allec says <i>you’ve</i> been around over two-hundred years.”</p>
<p>“I have. Unlike a human, I can access a specific memory intact. No confabulation. Like a human, I don’t think of the past until circumstances raise that a memory to the surface. And, like a human, what I remember doesn’t guarantee factual accuracy. My memories, like everyone’s memories, merely capture what happened at a particular time and place. The same is true for Will.”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfOErYHu3qQyGx7gT9Lrs_9Awj3aDBdemdkDd4yMnCMYl5kWeMIuBK-GPuSWknTjGa-PkbXfk_orZpcKyylY_JUVd4emt6nx2_DNyhguMZbJil5nA3NKtenz-yvy2hUBxxl2g6GtShQl4QoamxQTTrjDhh90WwrQnhH1IShGjbYIRP5PeAeaz3w/s1024/Steven%20Patenaude%20Coat.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="791" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfOErYHu3qQyGx7gT9Lrs_9Awj3aDBdemdkDd4yMnCMYl5kWeMIuBK-GPuSWknTjGa-PkbXfk_orZpcKyylY_JUVd4emt6nx2_DNyhguMZbJil5nA3NKtenz-yvy2hUBxxl2g6GtShQl4QoamxQTTrjDhh90WwrQnhH1IShGjbYIRP5PeAeaz3w/w163-h211/Steven%20Patenaude%20Coat.jpg" width="163" /></a></div><p></p>
<p>“So you think he was right not to mention what he noticed about me. Until now.”</p>
<p>“Honestly? No, Panfilo, I don’t. I think Cubi keep too many secrets. They need to decide whether or not they are part of Earth’s sentient community, to stop straddling the fence. But it’s difficult to corral beings who can hide from detection.”</p>
<p>Rhys said, “Francesca is good at the corralling bit.”</p>
<p>He settled on the bench beside Lider, hands in pockets. He was wearing his priestly garb, which Pan thought made him look less like a religious leader and more like a pirate from the old films Allec liked to watch.</p>
<p>Lider laughed. “Yeah. But only because Will wants her good opinion.” </p>
<p>Pan said, “Does he think I’m a clone of that saint? Or a descendent?”</p>
<p>“He doesn’t know. Nobody does. Junad made claims. Rhys and I will track down the source of those claims. But there’s no signpost here. We don’t know where we might end up.”</p>
<p>“I could talk to Will through Francesca. When we reach Earth.”</p>
<p>“Your safety—” Rhys said.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDGyTnZbwZwWsCHMlDTlicvolhpzaRBRqSh-2hel9XDGbe-vIXL2X5OFUqSJCpGwFim2BVHsDqF3mWyCWEZfIUZ321mS-j9lShcqoEH87nR_hE1ggEPToyjjMuIEaJZcWeUOzLA84ikuQLKCs0zszIuD74NQ9h6LDc58pVTvi8a8McXCJ2LCtjA/s598/Night%20Sky.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="588" data-original-width="598" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDGyTnZbwZwWsCHMlDTlicvolhpzaRBRqSh-2hel9XDGbe-vIXL2X5OFUqSJCpGwFim2BVHsDqF3mWyCWEZfIUZ321mS-j9lShcqoEH87nR_hE1ggEPToyjjMuIEaJZcWeUOzLA84ikuQLKCs0zszIuD74NQ9h6LDc58pVTvi8a8McXCJ2LCtjA/w212-h208/Night%20Sky.webp" width="212" /></a></div>“Kaiden will go with me.”<p></p><p>Kaiden turned from the observation deck’s long window and said, “Yup.”</p>
<p>Pan added, “And I’ll wear a disguise.”</p>
<p>A sweatshirt with a hoodie. He could wrap his tail around his waist. Don sunglasses.</p>
<p>Lider muttered, “More costumes. Was making Todd an anathema to the captain and crew revenge for <i>you</i>? Or for Allec?”</p>
<p>“Todd has hurt a lot of people.”</p>
<p>Lider huffed, but Rhys said, “Perhaps next time, you should warn Kaiden not to look so jaunty when you outmaneuver an enemy.”</p>
<p><i>Yes, next time, we will have to dispose of our enemies more subtly. </i></p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-40575752218530555612024-03-15T08:00:00.004-04:002024-03-15T09:06:43.044-04:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 11, Part I<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFDZ7Uf3cy3pCLKhtWr6v7AI_s4pkSdANptfAWEeOmCQcfQEVK5j0pxhhx1CTqQ9MIiVT95Cu54opYanuHO644u6foa93hMQCaz6CYc_Fd39yRUE3o6NgolbC6N3EB5U6PZR3XWE03aUJnH6mBaMP56MIZlsipXef71_BphnVQ_okLI9Le_Bz1A/s922/Revolving%20Door.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="922" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFDZ7Uf3cy3pCLKhtWr6v7AI_s4pkSdANptfAWEeOmCQcfQEVK5j0pxhhx1CTqQ9MIiVT95Cu54opYanuHO644u6foa93hMQCaz6CYc_Fd39yRUE3o6NgolbC6N3EB5U6PZR3XWE03aUJnH6mBaMP56MIZlsipXef71_BphnVQ_okLI9Le_Bz1A/w249-h139/Revolving%20Door.png" width="249" /></a></b></div><b>A</b>llec wanted to institute ancient dueling practices and challenge Todd to single combat<p></p>
<p>“He won’t be allowed back on Mars,” Quin said. “For Todd, that’s plenty punishment.”</p>
<p>“He’ll ping-pong between new victims: two churches, two statelets, two Moon companies.”</p>
<p>“The last could put him in greater hot water. But maybe he’ll behave better if he isn’t faced with a provocative game of charades three months into a nine-month voyage.”</p>
<p>Allec was too busy fuming to hear Quin’s implicit rebuke. “Todd never behaved well on Mars. He <i>looks</i> for ways to get offended.”</p>
<p>“As opposed to having those ways shoved in his face,” Quin said and gave Pan a steady frown.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3lcU2jButMtbDrNzPERcuC01DYpjrtQ0WfYFS8pOkIF-iliVLxza79T9e9rfLPc-AX_TzxumlxOku7N8dQlNFzFKHvP-fRnT8SP2zTesPcZNhxs7x-BAk0PPEgf6n7YwG_7EEjM-pN8Fjxjd8V6FjBDT2ZuXl7AB7q23gBsPxp7BN6w6g7jNcQ/s294/Quin.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="269" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3lcU2jButMtbDrNzPERcuC01DYpjrtQ0WfYFS8pOkIF-iliVLxza79T9e9rfLPc-AX_TzxumlxOku7N8dQlNFzFKHvP-fRnT8SP2zTesPcZNhxs7x-BAk0PPEgf6n7YwG_7EEjM-pN8Fjxjd8V6FjBDT2ZuXl7AB7q23gBsPxp7BN6w6g7jNcQ/w123-h134/Quin.jpg" width="123" /></a></div>So Quin guessed that Pan and Kaiden had deliberately baited Todd. For all his outspokenness, Allec was far more innocent than his husband. Pan wondered if that innocence was the result of Allec’s short life. As Trading Master, Quin had greater experience handling people with agendas.<p></p>
<p>Allec’s preferred approach to political bullshit was to snipe. Quin took a longer view.</p>
<p><i>Political know-how 101: Flexibility is the goal. All approaches have their gains. </i></p>
<p>Quin gave Pan one more glare, then shrugged.</p>
<p>He said, “I’m more concerned with Todd’s friends showing up on the Earth Space Station.”</p>
<p>“They won’t be the only group,” Allec said.</p>
<p>“The captain is discussing possible disembarkation scenarios with Rhys.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzHJj8SVHwauZyu_li_2-D8T_6VacpCIb7GUrJ1ImarIeVhKSYaTKoiNvTmE21uWHuGojiG2vrE698FWBOApOaGL8H2CWL80ZKo90hZIoMtj_4C4URKWIKajvw1DkJxUEqsQ_EQXZwP14lGtl_jsV9PInYvlgV4oPOVW_bgeO_OwLNL6OhurfLWg/s1080/Space%20Station%20Poles.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1080" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzHJj8SVHwauZyu_li_2-D8T_6VacpCIb7GUrJ1ImarIeVhKSYaTKoiNvTmE21uWHuGojiG2vrE698FWBOApOaGL8H2CWL80ZKo90hZIoMtj_4C4URKWIKajvw1DkJxUEqsQ_EQXZwP14lGtl_jsV9PInYvlgV4oPOVW_bgeO_OwLNL6OhurfLWg/w271-h158/Space%20Station%20Poles.jpg" width="271" /></a></div>“Earth Station shuttles don’t fly directly to Reforested Greenland,” Allec said and turned to Pan, who sat on the cabin’s couch. “Are you planning to head there immediately?” <p></p>
<p>“I don’t want to go without you,” Pan said.</p>
<p>He didn’t want to arrive at Queen Artia’s court without his—</p>
<p><i>Entourage? </i></p>
<p>—family and Kaiden, his—</p>
<p><i>Knight? </i></p>
<p>—friend. And he wanted to wait for Rhys and Lider to complete their investigation. He wanted to have answers, to approach the queen—</p>
<p><i>From a position of strength?</i></p>
<p>—without looking like an idiot.</p>
<p>“Of course, we’ll go with you,” Allec said. </p><p>Quin frowned, arms folded, hooded eyes on the cabin floor. Pan could guess why. Lider’s first life extension took place on the <i>HG Wells</i> during his voyage to Mars. He was in a coma for several months.</p>
<p>The latest procedure would hopefully extend Allec’s life at least another ten years. Researchers and doctors speculated Allec would be under for about a week. </p>
<p>Quin wanted to remove Allec to the facility as soon as the ship docked. The procedure was being funded by a pro-clone society run by an acquaintance of Allec’s, a loud reformer type who had supported Allec undergoing the first procedure. (Reformers like Todd thought Allec should have been “allowed to die naturally”). But loud opinions didn’t equal good science. Dr. Tomas was in contact with the society. Quin still wanted to check it out.</p>
<p>“We can wait. Return to Mars on the <i>Lovecraft</i>,” Allec said when Quin mentioned the time frame.</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoC5g2f-HOnKTSEBSn7afwJT6SQGZFm4IN-kBGFNdxGPK3dYmGYxakQngNWK4ZC7AQpA4ttVjisqG_-avbPHDO2PFf3OPdxdxt5onI-5OQBRTl7j3qhnnmFaprKF5OJG-RuqF5lGKwNbOFJTRhn3vLawETMjhmgBCUaB_vv606SomgOVc04-Hctg/s3072/James%20Cromwell%20as%20Digory.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="2048" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoC5g2f-HOnKTSEBSn7afwJT6SQGZFm4IN-kBGFNdxGPK3dYmGYxakQngNWK4ZC7AQpA4ttVjisqG_-avbPHDO2PFf3OPdxdxt5onI-5OQBRTl7j3qhnnmFaprKF5OJG-RuqF5lGKwNbOFJTRhn3vLawETMjhmgBCUaB_vv606SomgOVc04-Hctg/w159-h239/James%20Cromwell%20as%20Digory.jpg" width="159" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Digory</td></tr></tbody></table>“Digory wants to return on the <i>HG Wells</i>.”<p></p>
<p>Now that the Space Program ran two ships, each spent more time at each station for repairs and to allow travelers to return within the month rather than wait for the next ship. Digory wanted to get home, to die on Mars and be buried there.</p>
<p>Allec grunted acknowledgment. Digory was his mentor, one of the first Mars’s citizens to fully accept him. He met Digory on the same voyage he met Quin. Pan become Allec’s ward four years later. Pan figured Digory came first.</p>
<p>“There’s never enough time,” he heard Allec say ruefully to Quin as Pan left the cabin.</p>
<p>Kaiden was waiting, back against the corridor wall, ankles crossed. He straightened when he saw Pan and cocked his head.</p>
<p>He said, “You hear about Todd being banned from space travel?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Bet Allec is thrilled. You know Todd assaulted him that first voyage.”</p>
<p>Pan had heard the stories. “Bet Allec said something to piss him off.”</p>
<p><i>Like father-figure, like son. </i> </p>
<p>Kaiden said, “Where are we going?” as Pan loped to the right.</p>
<p>“To find Rhys. Any ideas where he might be?”</p>
<p>“Lider is collecting complaints.”</p>
<p>All passengers accepted jobs during the nine-month voyage. Lider was assigned to talk to crew and colonists about cabin conditions, laundry malfunctions, toiletry needs. He could do it alone, so long as he kept to general areas, such as the mess hall and the observation deck. Wherever Lider was, Rhys eventually showed up. Pan chose the observation deck.</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-21576140785330421052024-03-08T08:00:00.003-05:002024-03-08T08:35:53.803-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 10, Part II<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdpvGQUW7OBWt_xxtvBVIy4qq6VmQzcOulZKjhWtSHe2xImdhORrkxaGbf6ThXluFe1zoNQl68zndCFYQE3RUeySIOYT5bRTP9exF_rVib-gyPW2utJqMZEOWVuFwRK6fUQq3idePNm5FE40s1jkH1k354M4Jf02HgW_-_FF-3QFVTf6yu1ji8PA/s533/I%20am%20Appalled%20Benson%20Bagley.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="400" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdpvGQUW7OBWt_xxtvBVIy4qq6VmQzcOulZKjhWtSHe2xImdhORrkxaGbf6ThXluFe1zoNQl68zndCFYQE3RUeySIOYT5bRTP9exF_rVib-gyPW2utJqMZEOWVuFwRK6fUQq3idePNm5FE40s1jkH1k354M4Jf02HgW_-_FF-3QFVTf6yu1ji8PA/w185-h247/I%20am%20Appalled%20Benson%20Bagley.jpg" width="185" /></a></div>Allec snarled, “You can’t stop yourself from attacking those who don’t agree with you, can you, Todd?”<p></p>
<p>Todd hollered, “Do you even care what your ward was doing?”</p>
<p>A man and a woman stood behind Todd. Rhys recognized them as guests at the recent station symposium—the type that attended lectures on “The Distinctive Religious Purpose of Interspecies Interactionals Against Hegemonic Outcomes.” They nodded at Todd’s declamations and looked truculent.</p>
<p>Kylie, Nathan’s partner, a visible Cubus, stood in the space between the parties, her back to the window. She looked irritated, her mouth a tight line.</p>
<p>“What did Panfilo and Kaiden actually do?” she said as Nathan, Rhys, and Lider entered. “I want behaviors, Todd, not a bunch of exhortations.”</p>
<p>Todd always looked offended. If possible, he looked more offended at having his philosophical outrage reduced to proselytizing.</p>
<p>The woman behind Todd began, “When a human pretends to be an Anthros, that sends a demeaning message—” <br /></p>
<p>Todd said quickly—he’d learned on prior voyages to answer the actual questions posed to him by officers—“Panfilo’s fundamentalist goon was wearing a jackal head.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdgkjIyJey6xRsvm4tAdS7Y9BIQIcxIhT-WZM29msCgAZvSTPXZadaSHOX7lXoBIFBOomgHYNUNzPjFUCku8Tj9vEWwNCv6Oo-iwdZKH7u-KI6QMXEQ3pw9Qj_XrsIvlHQi3vnXhyOQV9Yeev66iPwCkO2nFh39RILkuaPkG40B6eOU5eonUnLQ/s1169/Anubis%20Head%202.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1169" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdgkjIyJey6xRsvm4tAdS7Y9BIQIcxIhT-WZM29msCgAZvSTPXZadaSHOX7lXoBIFBOomgHYNUNzPjFUCku8Tj9vEWwNCv6Oo-iwdZKH7u-KI6QMXEQ3pw9Qj_XrsIvlHQi3vnXhyOQV9Yeev66iPwCkO2nFh39RILkuaPkG40B6eOU5eonUnLQ/s320/Anubis%20Head%202.webp" width="210" /></a></div>Rhys noted that a wooden head of Anubis—dark and sleek with gold-tipped ears—sat under Kaiden’s chair.<p></p>
<p>“He was chasing a child in a leopard costume. A human child.”</p>
<p>“Miles was having fun,” Panfilo said mildly.</p>
<p>“That isn’t the point. Animal against animal is offensive—as if Anthros are savages.”</p>
<p>Rhys joined Kyrie and Nathan while Lider lingered beside Allec. Rhys could see Panfilo now—the violet eyes, half shut; the tail wrapped over his and Kaiden’s shoulders. Panfilo could look blank yet alert.</p>
<p>He said, still in that mild tone, “Kaiden scared off the leopard, then protected me.”</p>
<p>The man behind Todd scoffed, and Todd said, “You’re reveling in your status on this ship, aren’t you, Panfilo? As if <i>you’re</i> the offended party.”</p>
<p>“He <i>is</i>,” Quin said in his deep voice.</p>
<p>Allec snapped, “Posing as an arbiter of righteousness, Todd, doesn’t give you good taste.”</p>
<p>“Good taste? You know what was happening here? Appropriation. Not to mention, Panfilo re-enacting the encounter on the station, his adopted role as a—ah—ah—”</p>
<p>Todd couldn’t bring himself to say “assassination target,” to admit that Panfilo had been aggressed against.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1F2HSBJJj1-h1giR0KT-C847Fv083L4mvm3SlKJ-zzMA2_UsKqYWDFd3FDFaLlLNnHmtXm2lE3GyulLElgpDWrL8YhPi0ZYs7aFcy_mU5Nb89j52nADJrpPjYSNvjTwgoZd3UDkQ7yzc0lhrtmbWcJTebOptBvZlHw0nWiAY9XYMMKiMdZ-Mwjw/s216/Psych%20Wolf%20Head.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="216" data-original-width="144" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1F2HSBJJj1-h1giR0KT-C847Fv083L4mvm3SlKJ-zzMA2_UsKqYWDFd3FDFaLlLNnHmtXm2lE3GyulLElgpDWrL8YhPi0ZYs7aFcy_mU5Nb89j52nADJrpPjYSNvjTwgoZd3UDkQ7yzc0lhrtmbWcJTebOptBvZlHw0nWiAY9XYMMKiMdZ-Mwjw/w164-h247/Psych%20Wolf%20Head.webp" width="164" /></a></div>He was forestalled in any case. Jack, a canid-like Anthros on the <i>HG Wells</i> crew, entered the mess hall trailed by curious co-workers. Nathan opened his mouth—perhaps to order the onlookers out—then shrugged. A few headed to the counter to help Digory. Jack strode to join the group followed by another crewmember, Leo.<p></p>
<p>“Oh, Todd,” Leo said. “What’s pissing you off now?”</p>
<p>“A disgusting performance of animals attacking animals. I’m sure Jack resents such<i> tackiness</i>.” Todd smirked at Allec.</p>
<p>Lider muttered something in Allec’s ear. Allec grimaced but kept silent.</p>
<p>“Animals in the wild kill animals,” Jack said. “Are you denying animal nature, Todd? Anthros nature? Or conflating non-sentience with sentience?”</p>
<p>The man behind Todd reddened. The woman looked mulish.</p>
<p>Todd bristled. “When Anthros practice these rituals, such behavior is acceptable. When humans take on personas outside their culture—”</p>
<p>“Yeah, what were you guys doing?” Leo said to Kaiden and Panfilo.</p>
<p>Kaiden said, “We were re-enacting Anubis defending Osiris against Set who took the form of a leopard. <i>My</i> religious beliefs, which Todd is mocking.”</p>
<p>Todd stuttered. The woman looked uneasy.</p>
<p>Kaiden continued blithely, “Todd tried to stop us by catching hold of Panfilo’s tail.”</p>
<p>Jack growled. Leo shook his head. Panfilo continued to look blank. Todd blustered until Nathan held up a hand.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOAT-gYMC6PmKjSQkyb6JhMd0r7r1nwLV6YloYAbR3X_VdwJw2b2rmfojc2Y3SCh8hoiWr2KGCCjL3IuHtwa-t9QYQlKVXwB7hNjnJE7g8p7ei2FNhH6WzRHhxr3rzhJQQYo8NcB23znHkCVMuOJCt7rrXvvWXxRURwIf3I0PyQiNrLrUHIqCk3A/s1524/Galley%20Ship.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="898" data-original-width="1524" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOAT-gYMC6PmKjSQkyb6JhMd0r7r1nwLV6YloYAbR3X_VdwJw2b2rmfojc2Y3SCh8hoiWr2KGCCjL3IuHtwa-t9QYQlKVXwB7hNjnJE7g8p7ei2FNhH6WzRHhxr3rzhJQQYo8NcB23znHkCVMuOJCt7rrXvvWXxRURwIf3I0PyQiNrLrUHIqCk3A/w239-h141/Galley%20Ship.webp" width="239" /></a></div>He said, “Enough. You’ve been warned, Todd, that violence against sentient beings is not allowed on this ship, however offended you feel about something. You are, once again, confined to your cabin.”<p></p>
<p>So Rhys didn’t need to be there. He spoke to various people anyway. He provided context for Nathan’s decision to Todd’s supporters, Sidney and Brook. They were entirely undesirous of following Todd’s example and muttered apologies.</p>
<p>Rhys then diverted crewmembers’ attention to Digory’s meal (Allec had gone into the galley to help, still hyped but grinning). He conferred with Nathan about adding his witness statement to Nathan’s report while Lider spoke to Kylie.</p>
<p>“The <i>HG Wells</i> is going to ban Todd from further travel,” Lider told Rhys in the corridor. “The <i>Lovecraft</i> will likely follow suit. Which means Mars won’t have to put up with him again. Or the Mars Space Station.”</p>
<p>“What did you say to Allec?”</p>
<p>“Told him to let Todd contradict himself. He always does.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Leo says you look sexy in your unofficial clothes.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjsFzl-d6Q9-l4U8Fl061mYd4NU44_8lpVwvd5wyGCITRjKZjLthWqx_Z8S6NEFUbyRGa8fx-ytwlH4XHyHI8R0-1EtiyGR1BPqRuzS2GB1rjpeimtmR9_xj5P-eTUUUUGENNPnItcRc4f9A9p0jpRkoFYfpVAfRmhkaAwqlFUFsl44HfylKYdA/s218/Michaelangelo%20Hands.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="143" data-original-width="218" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjsFzl-d6Q9-l4U8Fl061mYd4NU44_8lpVwvd5wyGCITRjKZjLthWqx_Z8S6NEFUbyRGa8fx-ytwlH4XHyHI8R0-1EtiyGR1BPqRuzS2GB1rjpeimtmR9_xj5P-eTUUUUGENNPnItcRc4f9A9p0jpRkoFYfpVAfRmhkaAwqlFUFsl44HfylKYdA/s1600/Michaelangelo%20Hands.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>Rhys laughed. He and Lider’s hands brushed. Rhys felt the sensation, could almost repeat it, almost clasp Lider’s hand.<p></p>
<p>He said nothing though he saw Lider flushed, despite the overhead lights. Lider also said nothing.</p>
<p>He said instead, “I think Todd was harassing Panfilo before the incident today—you know the way he corners people with his need to express himself.”</p>
<p>“Another pastor searching for a Congregation.”</p>
<p>“Without the hard work and sacrifice.”</p>
<p>“I never felt particularly beleaguered by my choice.”</p>
<p>“But you worked for it. And were acknowledged. And agreed to go to Mars,” Lider said. “Besides, you don’t hide your intent.”</p>
<p>“No.” Rhys considered, aware of Lider’s hand, that near-touch.</p>
<p><i>He</i> said instead, “Kaiden and Panfilo planned what happened here.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah,” Lider said. “They did.”</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-57918501558391650752024-03-01T08:00:00.003-05:002024-03-01T08:08:17.463-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 10, Part I<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSmEs3ebXllvd41A5gEEHVsKJmu2wOoddUHC-Lxj0myoR_c427qyQ_4Hhf3fTQRXlYm8bEpsI1qLxHbHHappplcBe4oXwokeuBSpQpD_3t5jHc96rDmLeD4PR6poFKuJQ6lIBDIvgrv01EAG516XL99YYJtoLclyWvq0-xlDnb2_2FaNIc70vRzg/s270/Cassock%20Full.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="165" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSmEs3ebXllvd41A5gEEHVsKJmu2wOoddUHC-Lxj0myoR_c427qyQ_4Hhf3fTQRXlYm8bEpsI1qLxHbHHappplcBe4oXwokeuBSpQpD_3t5jHc96rDmLeD4PR6poFKuJQ6lIBDIvgrv01EAG516XL99YYJtoLclyWvq0-xlDnb2_2FaNIc70vRzg/s1600/Cassock%20Full.webp" width="165" /></a></b></div><b>“I</b> think Dr. Toma knew Pan was an Anthros,” Rhys told Lider. “The bloodwork she did back then was cursory—a check for the standard infections—but it would still have contained telltale markers.”<p></p>
<p>Lider nodded without looking round.</p>
<p>“She’s going to run a full battery of tests, including ones that can sometimes spot a clone. She pointed out that the Moon usually injected markers as a way to track clones but that part of the procedure could be bypassed.”</p>
<p>“And Pan was probably born, not grown like Allec.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Anthros don’t usually allow geographic or ancestry DNA testing, and Dr. Toma has agreed not to share whatever information she discovers—except with Pan and with us, of course.”</p>
<p>Silence. Rhys crossed the cabin to hang up his cassock at the end of the bed. On the station, he wore dungarees when he worked in the infirmary. His religious role was as much about location—the chapel on the main tier, the confessional—as his vestments. On-board ship, he carried his role with him and wore what Lider called “full priest regalia”</p>
<p>Lider said, “I spoke to Kylie. She remembers Panfilo and the Alands from that first voyage but not more than about anyone else. The paperwork was in order. She doublechecked her records when the news story about Panfilo came out. The Alands were planning to bring a child with them, but the adoption fell through. Panfilo took that child’s place. Samantha Aland renamed him when they reached Mars.”</p>
<p>“She was trying to be a good mom to an Anthros.”</p>
<p>“She was a decent person. So is Gregory in his way.” Lider paused. “Kylie opened the door to the cabin for me.”</p>
<p>The last line was bitter. Rhys settled beside Lider on the small couch. Lider’s hands were clasped between his knees, his head bent forward.</p>
<p>There had been a moment the night before when their hands touched, actually touched, skin to skin. They stared at each other, smiles readying. Lider reached for Rhys as he had a thousand times in dreams.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0OXCF63NReC0H3QWfy49zpZuBb4AP3Z2-eAqjNVQYMRtqaLyFkOS37f1h55eSjCFqVOBjUDyYc6cC30_hyphenhyphen5sScagkAEM6-oXvnfSHsQkAiVNMMSe9_KvwNzynwFt-61H7IL4xNUDnGZK9w3IiNI71gYg1-I0W5fiXiR6PdduZccKgIgK9k5rrUQ/s361/Lider%20Rhys%20InBetween.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="263" data-original-width="361" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0OXCF63NReC0H3QWfy49zpZuBb4AP3Z2-eAqjNVQYMRtqaLyFkOS37f1h55eSjCFqVOBjUDyYc6cC30_hyphenhyphen5sScagkAEM6-oXvnfSHsQkAiVNMMSe9_KvwNzynwFt-61H7IL4xNUDnGZK9w3IiNI71gYg1-I0W5fiXiR6PdduZccKgIgK9k5rrUQ/w229-h167/Lider%20Rhys%20InBetween.jpg" width="229" /></a></div>And then, nothing.<p></p>
<p>No, not exactly nothing. A shiver across the spine like crossing a low forcefield, one built to keep out dust but not humans.</p>
<p>Not enough. Not what they wanted. Lider had wept in frustration, which shouldn’t have been possible, and Rhys couldn’t comfort him, could only ache.</p>
<p>He hadn’t known he could hurt so much for another’s disappointment. His own disappointment, his own endurance, he could manage. Lider’s pain and outrage broke his heart.</p>
<p>Lider said shakily, “I’m so not good at this patience stuff.”</p>
<p>“Don’t do that. Don’t apologize. Stan told you it would be difficult.”</p>
<p>“I was cocky, absolutely sure that all my years watching humans, the extra years with you, would make this process easy. Difficult enough that I could give others advice—<i>I know what you’re going through. I went through it too</i>—not so difficult I want to punch walls.”</p>
<p>“You are handling it, Lider. You’re here. You’re talking to me. We’re both handling it.”</p>
<p>Lider sighed and leaned back. Solid surfaces held him, more than before, which Rhys didn’t point out. Small steps did matter, but neither he nor Lider were particularly enamored with the minutiae of “three steps forward-two steps back.” Both of them preferred all or nothing.</p>
<p><i>If only fate didn’t tease us— </i></p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBlthaBVK9_gBOZus94DRWi4D2Pkj6jVlP492hsfVXPjL2JW9ctSHAYDxRRWlcThmomaiacHKEVIxk9KsuckbW1GmvYdix4WvuX7RkB1-VbksM7UF4YCGuSdKmeyMhH1rPoq53kI9Wkp9syocHUFcvvsp3woih3IgnGlS58Uk2cnwakhrxf36t7w/s425/Roll%20Up%20Chess%20Set.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="261" data-original-width="425" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBlthaBVK9_gBOZus94DRWi4D2Pkj6jVlP492hsfVXPjL2JW9ctSHAYDxRRWlcThmomaiacHKEVIxk9KsuckbW1GmvYdix4WvuX7RkB1-VbksM7UF4YCGuSdKmeyMhH1rPoq53kI9Wkp9syocHUFcvvsp3woih3IgnGlS58Uk2cnwakhrxf36t7w/w197-h121/Roll%20Up%20Chess%20Set.jpg" width="197" /></a></div>They played a game of chess with Rhys moving Lider’s pieces (pawn e4 to e5) while Lider wandered about the cabin. It was how they had played before so it didn’t feel like a concession.<p></p>
<p>Played chess. Organized case notes. Discussed Father Malcolm’s assignments. Father Malcolm was tentatively in charge on the station while Rhys was away, but he was under strict instructions to trade off Mass with Father Hadaka, who would come to the station if needed.</p>
<p>They went to bed, Lider stretching out beside Rhys. Rhys woke several times, sure that he felt Lider’s length against his side. He drifted off.</p>
<p>He woke fully to pounding at the door. Nathan, Captain Maxwell’s second in command, stood on the other side.</p>
<p>“Allec’s kid is in trouble,” he said.</p>
<p>Rhys didn’t pull on his cassock. He padded after Nathan in dungarees and a knit sweater, Lider at his side.</p>
<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtNRsMn448IrJzuwFezp7GEU9BgAcHhuxdkQ4yclCupy2GAU7H5TEu6tkYFl8HOO3SV0asMF-AdC8ZGqJg7O3wS6CWEmIsPitfFgrC_nEy11yjofH2AwqsZ9gDeSeaIFp6u5RaXzh_9C1LihZpiLMZg8erO34TLkstiGSIujZeEGNmWWLGG3rfbQ/s400/Mess%20Hall%203.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="352" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtNRsMn448IrJzuwFezp7GEU9BgAcHhuxdkQ4yclCupy2GAU7H5TEu6tkYFl8HOO3SV0asMF-AdC8ZGqJg7O3wS6CWEmIsPitfFgrC_nEy11yjofH2AwqsZ9gDeSeaIFp6u5RaXzh_9C1LihZpiLMZg8erO34TLkstiGSIujZeEGNmWWLGG3rfbQ/w166-h188/Mess%20Hall%203.jpg" width="166" /></a>Nathan didn’t head to the captain’s office but to the mess hall. They could hear shouting before they crossed the threshold, and Nathan grimaced.</p><p>Beyond the counter between the galley and the mess hall, Digory was prepping for next meal, but his eyes were focused on the group near the eating area’s long window, more people than would fit in the captain’s office. Arms folded, face set, Quin stood over the seated Kaiden and Panfilo. Allec stood beside him, quivering with fury as he shouted at—</p>
<p>Rhys sighed.</p>
<p>—Todd Avide, who was waving his hands and shouting in return.</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-15837649002455720402024-02-23T08:00:00.007-05:002024-02-23T10:47:07.786-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 9, Part II<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGoLDULPVqIRu4KhXixh-HUJLfPqAEAW_4hpD0Ihv3_3ICWFPDkcPRxivlydVwwcPAadrCN7oSMQu9GgbjIDWdfiYL_bX-UGhUpBRe9ddbEqoJiivztfRGgK2S3ZLZyt_m6ubauqfyE6KKzRUccxYjvvAF6NjB_Izsohvs1PEF60nf_Oyq5sGyQ/s578/Chef%20Allec.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="578" data-original-width="463" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGoLDULPVqIRu4KhXixh-HUJLfPqAEAW_4hpD0Ihv3_3ICWFPDkcPRxivlydVwwcPAadrCN7oSMQu9GgbjIDWdfiYL_bX-UGhUpBRe9ddbEqoJiivztfRGgK2S3ZLZyt_m6ubauqfyE6KKzRUccxYjvvAF6NjB_Izsohvs1PEF60nf_Oyq5sGyQ/w128-h161/Chef%20Allec.webp" width="128" /></a></div>Pan and Kaiden reached the counter. Allec was wearing a tall chef’s hat, mostly to get people chatting and laughing.<p></p>
<p>“Hey, Juniper, we’ve got lava cakes today,” he said to the woman in front of Pan and Kaiden. “Still your favorites?”</p>
<p>“You bet. You know I expect a real chef to use authentic chocolate sauce.”</p>
<p>“Only for you.”</p>
<p>Allec grinned at Pan and Kaiden. He dished out plates of mac & cheese and added extra hotdog slices.</p>
<p>“You two scrub down the infirmary?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Kaiden said, and Pan said, “Dr. Toma told us we weren’t total losers.”</p>
<p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjlf74j7q4NNnrPaG94hbaGtyCMp4FrY43z-2yMvWucAcr1GN0_akgw-cA4TrcEnEC45e0wEb5WXwumbLsprCo7ddXAeYgEtTgiZGI2ZiJEP2OMhdB-47pcrPGugogpEf7T08Z4_jSA83to6WbjwkniuhyphenhyphenvmesnSPetEZ8noRrV5IZyGI4HGXyVg/s966/Image%20for%20Toma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="966" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjlf74j7q4NNnrPaG94hbaGtyCMp4FrY43z-2yMvWucAcr1GN0_akgw-cA4TrcEnEC45e0wEb5WXwumbLsprCo7ddXAeYgEtTgiZGI2ZiJEP2OMhdB-47pcrPGugogpEf7T08Z4_jSA83to6WbjwkniuhyphenhyphenvmesnSPetEZ8noRrV5IZyGI4HGXyVg/w162-h141/Image%20for%20Toma.jpg" width="162" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Toma<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Actually, Dr. Toma said, <i>Looks fine</i>, which from Dr. Toma was praise of the highest order.</p>
<p>“Monseigneur Rhys was there,” Pan added. “He double-checks medications but I think he was also checking my medical records from the trip to Mars. But my parents, the Alands, they didn’t send me in for a full examination, just the regular blood draws to test for infections.”</p>
<p>Allec gave him a skeptical look. Dr. Toma likely guessed from the blood that Pan wasn’t human. And she hadn’t said anything. The ship lived by its own rules. It carried out specific mandates but nothing more, nothing that adhered to a particular political objective. The ship didn’t care who lived on Mars. It carried folks there.</p>
<p>Allec might be outspoken. He protected his friends, the people he determined as being on his side. And he adored Dr. Toma, who helped him with his first life-extension procedure. He wouldn’t question Pan in public about Dr. Toma’s knowledge.</p>
<p>“Don’t forget to hydrate,” he told Pan and Kaiden and turned to the next diner.</p>
<p>Pan and Kaiden collected drinks and carried their meal to a table near the long outside window. A few diners flicked glances at Pan. They knew who he was and what had happened to him on the station. They knew Rhys and Lider were the ship. But the captain didn’t want fuss and most people respected her decisions.</p>
<p>People like Todd rated their outrage above everything else, including getting through a nine-month voyage without cabin fever or brawls.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_Z0fQZKNuzH7S0DbYKTcSZitZXbB3seszPMemCoXXzb0lZYFDQtFg8yK56mXF_EI5RDdXn-Vi4A32JdKbLC_On9XQzk3bV55mQ0byefquIBPR04KpmWpPjpzKCawlrSvOf5v9uj-eN_ZeoAcKIPgG9-vyz9p74vALXh2t7PQKD7oYt9B0I0Plw/s2560/Egyptian%20Gods.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="2560" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_Z0fQZKNuzH7S0DbYKTcSZitZXbB3seszPMemCoXXzb0lZYFDQtFg8yK56mXF_EI5RDdXn-Vi4A32JdKbLC_On9XQzk3bV55mQ0byefquIBPR04KpmWpPjpzKCawlrSvOf5v9uj-eN_ZeoAcKIPgG9-vyz9p74vALXh2t7PQKD7oYt9B0I0Plw/w214-h157/Egyptian%20Gods.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>“Maybe we should do something about Todd,” Pan said as they sat.<p></p>
<p>Kaiden peered at him from under longish bleached bangs. “Punish-him like?”</p>
<p>“Do you honestly believe in all that Amunite stuff?”</p>
<p>Kaiden lowered his eyes, dug into his mac & cheese. “Some of it. The ancient Egyptian community stuff, ceremonies for the dead. And the animal stuff too. Gods with jackal and cat heads. Judges with owl beaks.”</p>
<p>“Gods in the image of Anthros?”</p>
<p>“I think Anthros visited Earth long before they returned for good. I guess it’s not my place to give an opinion—”</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>“Okay. But I know that nobody really knows when Anthros arrived on Earth. <i>I know that.</i> I <i>believe</i> Anthros came to Earth to share their natures with humans. Protection. Comfort. Devotion. Lessons on the harshness of nature. Not the philosophical crap Todd doles out.”</p>
<p>He stopped, head still lowered. His eyes rose, fastened on Pan’s face.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii60tLCKsowI7T8w35uIOOjF-0gH0O6zYz7WWVNCog9ZGRmPZa9OG9SApYah0BeeBkaoAP25b33p-wYzp6nBGiWdDoBNI29pbbQdPKoTMxhjumCkVxezD9wyW4ia4e7Q6X85nlammu5uyxvJOhMTh57gVdNsR2yttt9uLfHU557SI26SeXqCZZ9A/s736/Akh%20and%20Others.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="484" data-original-width="736" height="106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii60tLCKsowI7T8w35uIOOjF-0gH0O6zYz7WWVNCog9ZGRmPZa9OG9SApYah0BeeBkaoAP25b33p-wYzp6nBGiWdDoBNI29pbbQdPKoTMxhjumCkVxezD9wyW4ia4e7Q6X85nlammu5uyxvJOhMTh57gVdNsR2yttt9uLfHU557SI26SeXqCZZ9A/w162-h106/Akh%20and%20Others.png" width="162" /></a></div>He said, “On the ship to Mars—I don’t know if you remember—I was twelve, almost thirteen. You were four. Monseigneur Rhys solved a case for our group. Canon Lider was with him, only he was invisible back then. Our foundress referred to Lider as an <i>akh</i>, one who has successfully completed the journey to the afterlife.”<p></p>
<p>Pan vaguely remembered the unsettled feeling on the ship, and he was told later that Rhys and Lider investigated. Lider never mentioned the akh business. Of course, Lider refuted any attempt to turn him into an angel or some such spiritual whatever.</p>
<p>He said, “Lider is nearly corporeal.”</p>
<p>“I know. His journey went in the other direction—or she was right, and his journey brought him back around to the mortal world, a type of resurrection.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLk6YZbStFCNrEFBT2Z_h0R-BBH0UAyI1G4O3hg5Uj8vUkpnwNvVt41tW_9N7v5GgSAGDB2P5OnpGkGVNZK-dskRIjpbHojQrHjQLkKaIDnxwIoZhkbvstSjAhYjFsBRwIBsEaPYjyuRNIjpBosAoraPiPI7M_rIVdijn4zYhIcLl7KTRNI_PWQ/s1799/Sumerian%20Worshiper.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1799" data-original-width="1501" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLk6YZbStFCNrEFBT2Z_h0R-BBH0UAyI1G4O3hg5Uj8vUkpnwNvVt41tW_9N7v5GgSAGDB2P5OnpGkGVNZK-dskRIjpbHojQrHjQLkKaIDnxwIoZhkbvstSjAhYjFsBRwIBsEaPYjyuRNIjpBosAoraPiPI7M_rIVdijn4zYhIcLl7KTRNI_PWQ/w188-h225/Sumerian%20Worshiper.jpg" width="188" /></a></div>“Lider wouldn’t agree.”<p></p>
<p>“I know. I know. It’s all faith, right? No proof. No empirical evidence. A story that makes sense to a person. Myth.”</p>
<p>“People want to be more than myth,” Pan said without heat. He wouldn’t mind being myth.</p>
<p>Kaiden smiled then, easily, cheerfully, the wide parted lips lifting the cheeks to set the eyes glimmering.</p>
<p>“I’m not thinking about what’s good for you,” he admitted. “I’m thinking about what I need to believe in, what I should follow.”</p>
<p>“You want to follow me?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Kaiden said.</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-86448998872406277542024-02-16T08:00:00.006-05:002024-02-17T07:50:30.100-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 9, Part I<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKB5W9ehYLA-hNEhst10q8EwWA680BjIEaSN0meniJOy3-cCLMrg4ASf3R5pPeXKryqQ3b5TrBNub7QtR_SjpmQOCDIY7hiiicfm7xvmsPPcaAHWxTVw4I6CyMCWmTAoQy26E-h1sFKJUOUbP4V-P0m-8eHpo0pL5_WP2qZqcAb8yppNn2riAwew/s251/Cruise%20Space%20Ship.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="201" data-original-width="251" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKB5W9ehYLA-hNEhst10q8EwWA680BjIEaSN0meniJOy3-cCLMrg4ASf3R5pPeXKryqQ3b5TrBNub7QtR_SjpmQOCDIY7hiiicfm7xvmsPPcaAHWxTVw4I6CyMCWmTAoQy26E-h1sFKJUOUbP4V-P0m-8eHpo0pL5_WP2qZqcAb8yppNn2riAwew/w202-h162/Cruise%20Space%20Ship.jpg" width="202" /></a></b></div><b>N</b>obody tried to assassinate Pan on the ship.<p></p>
<p>Not directly.</p>
<p>Todd Avide was returning to Earth. Again. He was what Allec called “a revolving door citizen.” He came to Mars, stayed awhile, upset life in various bubbles, spread rumors and dissension, announced he couldn’t bear the “deadness” of Mars, and left. Within less than a year, he was on another ship.</p>
<p>Todd, it turned out, was <i>pro-Junad</i>, whatever that meant. He thought that people were treating Junad unfairly when they locked him up (so he wouldn’t try to kill Pan again). He thought that people didn’t respect Junad’s beliefs. He thought that humans were forcing Anthros to assimilate to something or other against their will.</p>
<p>He would have set up a vigil outside Junad’s cabin but Captain Maxwell didn’t allow “acting out” on her ship, which was “not a democracy but an autocracy.” Her words.</p>
<p><i>Political know-how 101: never apologize for your authority. </i></p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_774jr7dTuS-tpNrboDNXpfcCUHs1WM3xbNeLMbJ8xHLh9y1rbj5sghS8S4n7KqtYlpZPp-GAa6BlNsul-4H14kV2Aboc5sGfU57sSd1OX7fCB4-5t4FXJwpF_718MqxI3ctZDOJeI6u8IlaTHJdq__AUYUw9sEN4rAE6d0Efr_v1hft6pQBPw/s750/Ad%20Hominem%20Poster.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="750" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_774jr7dTuS-tpNrboDNXpfcCUHs1WM3xbNeLMbJ8xHLh9y1rbj5sghS8S4n7KqtYlpZPp-GAa6BlNsul-4H14kV2Aboc5sGfU57sSd1OX7fCB4-5t4FXJwpF_718MqxI3ctZDOJeI6u8IlaTHJdq__AUYUw9sEN4rAE6d0Efr_v1hft6pQBPw/w227-h152/Ad%20Hominem%20Poster.jpg" width="227" /></a></div>Todd resorted to badgering Pan. “If you didn’t offend Anthros standards by rejecting your kind, you wouldn’t have been attacked.” <p></p>
<p>They were two weeks into the voyage. Pan was on his way to eat second meal. He noted that Todd confronted him <i>outside</i> the mess hall. Digory was resting this meal, so Allec was in charge of the galley. Allec loathed Todd, and Allec publicly verbally eviscerated people he loathed. (Most people didn’t appreciate that most of the time, Allec was restrained.)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhim7a22LW1atsQ_xeLknkfivp4no7IgIQLJbR5VCH0WV7MtJgiLxKYvi-ARnK7PWvtdJz-YnFZff6YslIpPaneulk-VSm84nRbJnxic0hX2CZTeMmINTLSj73UxRRJKdrsgeBch_T4O83IRV7HmIV3FlNEqA_v61m0qK-6lCCDXZB5cS_NaWOEGQ/s960/Sheep%20Logical%20Fallacies.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhim7a22LW1atsQ_xeLknkfivp4no7IgIQLJbR5VCH0WV7MtJgiLxKYvi-ARnK7PWvtdJz-YnFZff6YslIpPaneulk-VSm84nRbJnxic0hX2CZTeMmINTLSj73UxRRJKdrsgeBch_T4O83IRV7HmIV3FlNEqA_v61m0qK-6lCCDXZB5cS_NaWOEGQ/w214-h161/Sheep%20Logical%20Fallacies.png" width="214" /></a></p>Allec and Quin probably scared Todd, which explained the “rejecting your kind” remark. Todd likely wouldn’t mind if Pan was cared for by humans like Todd.<p></p><p>Todd scolded, "You act like that Cubus who appropriated Anthros identity." <br /></p><p></p>
<p>Kaiden leaned over Pan’s shoulder and gave Todd a candid smile. </p>
<p>“You’re going to hell,” he said, and Todd reared back, his face contorted in shock.</p>
<p>He stammered, “You’re one of those <i>fundamentalist</i> types,” which was ironic or hypocritical or just stupid since Todd was the one accusing Pan of violating a set of fundamental “standards.”</p>
<p>Kaiden didn’t attack Todd’s lack of logic. He said, “I believe in gods that protect the innocent and punish the guilty.”</p>
<p>“Panfilo has denied his true nature—”</p>
<p>“I’m an Amunite,” Kaiden said. “Lapsed. But our religious beliefs say Panfilo’s true mission right here right now is an Anthros <i>among</i> humans. Which makes you the blasphemer. And you’re damned.”</p>
<p>He smiled cheerfully at Todd, who appeared out of his depth in a religious conversation that actually involved belief rather a bunch of terms Todd could manipulate.</p>
<p>Todd muttered, “Close-minded freaks” and edged away. Pan gave Kaiden an appreciative nod.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrjauickU77cbQoJHGPBXVfZCIwLeKM9C0P-PvToXF5AkC5J2MSoAQDxINzePsGfliLhzL3Pci8oXhEtHluYgNvJWGYX2qCsNJw17haKXvPkdxgyE_M-uXeQdvpnrzsQKUD82qdVT_VIfTnUFVOBDj423p-1g2bCAeHoRxsWOxUaYqBxobywBxsw/s400/Starship%20Cabin.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrjauickU77cbQoJHGPBXVfZCIwLeKM9C0P-PvToXF5AkC5J2MSoAQDxINzePsGfliLhzL3Pci8oXhEtHluYgNvJWGYX2qCsNJw17haKXvPkdxgyE_M-uXeQdvpnrzsQKUD82qdVT_VIfTnUFVOBDj423p-1g2bCAeHoRxsWOxUaYqBxobywBxsw/w209-h209/Starship%20Cabin.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><p>Kaiden had become a companion. They shared a cabin since space on the ship was limited. The ship was carrying not only workers and colonists returning to Earth but attendees and speakers from the latest conference, the ones that stayed past the other ship’s departure.</p>
<p>Kaiden took his bodyguard duties seriously. Possibly the most cheerful guy on the ship, he had a way of hunching when people entered Pan’s space. And he was willing to call out anyone he thought might be disrespecting Pan. <i>My bulldog. </i> </p>
<p>“The guy is an asshole,” Kaiden said as they entered the mess hall and got in line at the counter.</p>
<p>“This was his third time on Mars, right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. The first time, he really messed up Baqil’s life, got him spouting off all this garbage about Mars forcing religion on people and taking advantage of their work and secretly planning to expatriate the Amunites. Baqil’s family had converted to Norse Christianity by then—a lot of hubs took us in when the sect disbanded. But that Todd guy really scared him. Not for any good reason. I think Todd likes making people miserable, dragging them down to his level, I guess.”</p>
<p>Pan nodded. He remembered hearing that Baqil had sent hate mail to people—not digital messages but actual physical letters. Rhys and Lider investigated, removed Todd from the picture, and resolved the family crisis. Baqil was married now and managed one of the algae farms. Baqil turned out okay. </p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-40321456891214974112024-02-09T08:00:00.002-05:002024-02-09T08:35:18.485-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 8, Part II<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf3BHwDwqPbrdYhK5HarYvaoGPRsx6oJI74nWK8jjgMCa4c7dEFsYNIqclMtB5_AtfpDW7vzs73832g31-oEv995nk62QE8sNt7nQKb7rzc80AlDkCHUmg2pu6te5zdjTdNTb5AKB6OXc5wK5-8VqewKW2SQ8D2AQajWLOkGmvNYDDnuRZ8XkwJg/s1920/Mars%20Hub.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1079" data-original-width="1920" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf3BHwDwqPbrdYhK5HarYvaoGPRsx6oJI74nWK8jjgMCa4c7dEFsYNIqclMtB5_AtfpDW7vzs73832g31-oEv995nk62QE8sNt7nQKb7rzc80AlDkCHUmg2pu6te5zdjTdNTb5AKB6OXc5wK5-8VqewKW2SQ8D2AQajWLOkGmvNYDDnuRZ8XkwJg/w275-h155/Mars%20Hub.jpg" width="275" /></a></div>Pan drove one of the depot’s buggies back to the central hub. He took the elevator to the alcove outside the changing rooms, shucked his suit, and ducked into the area's individual courtyard to take a swim. Due to the Siphons who now lived in the hub, quarters and general areas offered more indoor pools. They weren’t huge but they were enough to paddle around in. Maybe Panfilo <i>was</i> part dog.<p></p>
<p>He dried off and dressed and sauntered, barefoot, back to Father Malcom’s apartment.</p>
<p>Someone stood outside the door, a human a little taller than Panfilo, so about 1.8 meters. The figure stood hunched with his hands in his pockets, shaggy blond hair brushing naturally light-brown skin. He turned his head and gave Panfilo a nod. Kaiden Lee.</p>
<p>Kaiden and Pan knew each other. They arrived on the same ship. Back then, Kaiden was part of a religious group that had since disbanded after a massive scandal. Even after Pan was sent to live on the station, Kaiden had lingered to chat when he visited the station to work. There was a eight-year difference. But Mars was still a fairly small community, small enough that Kaiden and Pan knew each other and about each other.</p>
<p>Kaiden said, “I hear you’re going to Earth.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Pan said and entered the apartment, currently empty since Sandy was holding mass with Father Hadaka. He motioned Kaiden to follow him in.</p>
<p>“My parents went back three years ago.”</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwiapiAFGeCl1fw61aTmTZSfQdT8s5UPYMWIcv5n7NTpSDTvrM0nygzYbATP2PNOc7131Lk6DmopGTD9CVnESdFTBU0oAzz0fBCZBUJrjwpGc7J8nEP0jsed1cFe8a89KpBDnYyyzlJKdqSsNjN9CjLoZazGA7qLw4dOE-nHxCb-G1yyUQdKDwqw/s666/Kaiden.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="666" height="103" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwiapiAFGeCl1fw61aTmTZSfQdT8s5UPYMWIcv5n7NTpSDTvrM0nygzYbATP2PNOc7131Lk6DmopGTD9CVnESdFTBU0oAzz0fBCZBUJrjwpGc7J8nEP0jsed1cFe8a89KpBDnYyyzlJKdqSsNjN9CjLoZazGA7qLw4dOE-nHxCb-G1yyUQdKDwqw/w206-h103/Kaiden.jpg" width="206" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kaiden</td></tr></tbody></table>Pan nodded absently. A lot of Mars’ immigrants returned to Earth. Allec said they were searching for impossible utopias when they came to Mars. They got disappointed when those utopias didn’t materialize. Lider said they wanted to better themselves. Rhys pointed out that many of them left and returned.<p></p>
<p>Kaiden said, “My parents want me to visit.”</p>
<p>“So you’ll be on the ship.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t going to go. But then I heard about you—”</p>
<p>Kaiden was pacing the front room while Pan sat on a stool in the kitchenette. Pan studied him as shrugged and waved his arms.</p>
<p>Pan and Kaiden weren’t friends, not really. And as far as he knew, Kaiden didn’t have romantic interest in male Anthros. Actually, he wasn’t sure Kaiden had any interest in anybody.</p>
<p>Pan waited.</p>
<p>“I thought maybe you could use a bodyguard. It was wrong, what happened to you. That Anthros trying to kill you. I know you have plenty of protectors,” Kaiden added and shrugged self-consciously. </p>
<p>“Sure,” Pan said. “But those protectors will have responsibilities on the ship other than me.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2yyuBnns8KxdyRDKTnaCu5UyyhG1whinVHiEi2OT12CoS9drke0cRF2owy75QFz0HuJ4qlgqW19JwCs_fnoLTWnQAJe2Deqk0WNjyLPtohs_zpkxr7vhI1h6wj4MKJNGEmyMssjRrSBM4idwYkSqTWMpsaeqo8UjTkhBlHM7tlmfRO0Kyg2pZvQ/s251/Cruise%20Space%20Ship.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="201" data-original-width="251" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2yyuBnns8KxdyRDKTnaCu5UyyhG1whinVHiEi2OT12CoS9drke0cRF2owy75QFz0HuJ4qlgqW19JwCs_fnoLTWnQAJe2Deqk0WNjyLPtohs_zpkxr7vhI1h6wj4MKJNGEmyMssjRrSBM4idwYkSqTWMpsaeqo8UjTkhBlHM7tlmfRO0Kyg2pZvQ/s1600/Cruise%20Space%20Ship.jpg" width="251" /></a></div>Rhys and Lider were coming to continue the investigation, possibly to continuing interrogate Junad, who would be on the same ship, confined to a cabin, between holding mass and taking confession. <p></p>
<p>They would also spend shifts in various departments. Mars and station residents accepted duties during a voyage. Quin would work as quartermaster while Allec would manage the kitchen alongside Digory.</p>
<p>Pan would have duties too. He was sixteen, which was an adult in some city-states. The ship would expect him to scrub toilets or launder uniforms or help with clean-up in the galley. He and Kaiden might get assigned the same duties, and it might be useful and non-monotonous to have someone to talk to, someone without an agenda.</p>
<p>Except Kaiden obviously also had an agenda. Not assassination. Not romance. Pan was betting on something more fundamental, something tied into Kaiden’s reasons for staying on Mars, for visiting him on the station.</p>
<p><i>Political know-how 101: give people time to reveal themselves. </i></p>
<p>He said, “Sounds good. I could use a bodyguard.”</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-64907874187638489442024-02-02T08:00:00.002-05:002024-02-03T08:37:57.202-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 8, Part I<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjTVOTiqu1bDK8KAjuCeZgE3HCH2kvPL2yrLA4WVNTpvVZKKokWOHfTE6-JSf0mVNlqVARCBH6SZbChKHpOWYZC5gSxcVAhSy71TcDT4if1onfPCCGZa55NJsmjx3DzXPEGPFHkhSDZoYBsbUVN24w-Oqn0QfrTD537qlFwV_3p4mWLT8nWEgiUA/s640/French%20Invitation.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="423" data-original-width="640" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjTVOTiqu1bDK8KAjuCeZgE3HCH2kvPL2yrLA4WVNTpvVZKKokWOHfTE6-JSf0mVNlqVARCBH6SZbChKHpOWYZC5gSxcVAhSy71TcDT4if1onfPCCGZa55NJsmjx3DzXPEGPFHkhSDZoYBsbUVN24w-Oqn0QfrTD537qlFwV_3p4mWLT8nWEgiUA/w269-h178/French%20Invitation.jpg" width="269" /></a></b></div><b>P</b>anfilo responded to Queen Artia’s <i>summons</i>—was there really another word for it?—with an official document of his own. Allec helped him design a digital seal to place on the document. “And something to hint at your uniqueness, Pan.”<p></p>
<p>Allec saw everyone in terms of singularity. “Each of us is born in our own head and dies in our own head,” he stated emphatically.</p>
<p>But Anthros argued for community before the individual, so Pan’s seal portrayed a reddish horizon filled with figures of standing sentient beings. He used his tail, longer than a spider monkey’s, as the circling frame, like an Ouroboros worm, which Allec also approved.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><i>Panfilo of the Alands and the Tates, within the protection of Raine and Ruella, returns greetings to Queen Artia of the Confederated kin groups in Reforested Greenland. He will present his physical self in her court on the date of…</i></p>
<p></p>
<p>“Queen Artia will expect you on your schedule,” Sandy said when Pan gave him the letter to review. “Within two lunar years, not on a specific day.”</p>
<p>Anthros Earth time. Not like the station and planet which relied on hours and minutes and--on the station-- manufactured “days” and “nights” in rough correspondence to the planet.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUxyumo-ygVDch-NaJOFiKLn5EkM-PjAHQwYYmecDGgF22A1GVkYAQXHKJfWFI6VyvXSiHPCVVFLB_BeYB4i0r1sA9-O3c7XXXMfvtvVTN3pl2mBP0vbfhvlxhObPD1CtBvTz509uA3NJriUMHNrmbG9gArv5FIazXhgWrJxZi5auf7q78S-OFTw/s1920/Earth%20Space%20Station%20Current.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1920" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUxyumo-ygVDch-NaJOFiKLn5EkM-PjAHQwYYmecDGgF22A1GVkYAQXHKJfWFI6VyvXSiHPCVVFLB_BeYB4i0r1sA9-O3c7XXXMfvtvVTN3pl2mBP0vbfhvlxhObPD1CtBvTz509uA3NJriUMHNrmbG9gArv5FIazXhgWrJxZi5auf7q78S-OFTw/w209-h157/Earth%20Space%20Station%20Current.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><p>“She won’t meet me at the Earth Space Station, then?” Panfilo said as he amended his reply.</p>
<p>“No. That would benefit neither you nor her.”</p>
<p>True. Quin and Allec, Pan knew, were debating how to smuggle him off the ship when it reached the Earth Space Station. They wanted to avoid what Allec called “hoopla,” not to mention more threatening possibilities. Panfilo’s presence on the ship would be known before the ninth month of the voyage.</p>
<p>Rhys and Lider believed that Junad had acted alone; he wasn’t a member of a nest of assassins. He probably belonged to a group that met and griped over all the loathsome products of the modern world. Maybe that group pushed Junad to act. Or pressured him. Or never saw Junad’s actions coming. Pan could imagine all possibilities.</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcyl7JDlG5ykyMr00XgxlwAvKY8_EIZHBg9_oBLWvEFLlJy9MkRqBBBfURTJFuC5RRyrLSclUQXWXsSMcPY19hfpqanDEwgkX6mxF37aijZn1897EX-Ade6TaMn4CtBtBUk2a4OWAQmAlYREYS6QwmA-NI58w4KSrLvzuGv0KDMW_f1CHHfp-KA/s1200/Wolf%20and%20Child.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="706" data-original-width="1200" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcyl7JDlG5ykyMr00XgxlwAvKY8_EIZHBg9_oBLWvEFLlJy9MkRqBBBfURTJFuC5RRyrLSclUQXWXsSMcPY19hfpqanDEwgkX6mxF37aijZn1897EX-Ade6TaMn4CtBtBUk2a4OWAQmAlYREYS6QwmA-NI58w4KSrLvzuGv0KDMW_f1CHHfp-KA/w276-h162/Wolf%20and%20Child.jpg" width="276" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/news/2018/aug/28/how-to-be-human-the-man-who-was-raised-by-wolves" target="_blank">Marcos Rodriguez Pantoga</a><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Something else troubled Rhys and Lider, something connected to the Moon, to Panfilo being abandoned on Earth when he was four or so. They questioned Pan about his memories. He mostly remembered eating out of restaurant bins. Everything before that was hazy.<p></p>
<p>“Do they think I was grown on the Moon?” he asked Allec.</p>
<p>Allec, who never hedged, hedged. “Junad talks a lot of shit.”</p>
<p><i>Was I cloned? From whom? </i></p>
<p>Pan didn’t ask. He wasn’t particularly religious but Lider had a good line from the Christian text: <i>Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.</i></p>
<p>“Don’t go looking for trouble,” Rhys interpreted.</p>
<p>“Cause it comes and finds <i>you</i>,” Lider muttered.</p>
<p>Pan had nine months on the ship, two years until he went before Queen Artia, to figure out his pedigree.</p>
<p>He got ready to leave. People came and went from Father Malcolm’s quarters on Mars that Pan shared with Sandy. Each visitor had questions, lists of things to pack, final goodbyes.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZH36c_49L3YcYPVpl1okD1s0mAigPCY4Sbr-DejDKXj_e9c6uPKv-qxQu-wGpxyMFIGiJXYpieLrfo1ezn_gXaPqKufZBK5iMk8kzFH-3tvjcL7W8HCHJVg6I4zAdyRtfAQEEJclg3iaRnCqByjiYCCp4X3IWogAglZgkl2jgCqjyJtrDDyLI1w/s616/Bubble%20Home.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="616" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZH36c_49L3YcYPVpl1okD1s0mAigPCY4Sbr-DejDKXj_e9c6uPKv-qxQu-wGpxyMFIGiJXYpieLrfo1ezn_gXaPqKufZBK5iMk8kzFH-3tvjcL7W8HCHJVg6I4zAdyRtfAQEEJclg3iaRnCqByjiYCCp4X3IWogAglZgkl2jgCqjyJtrDDyLI1w/w221-h166/Bubble%20Home.jpeg" width="221" /></a></div>Pan spent a couple of nights with his father. Gregory Aland had gotten criticized for his part in taking Pan from Earth. He had also, Pan knew, gotten criticized by Mars citizens who thought Gregory hadn’t looked after Panfilo well enough, that he should have moved to the station when Panfilo got ejected from Mars.<p></p>
<p>Pan didn’t agree. He was on the same wavelength as Gregory Aland, who wanted to live on Mars and experiment with robotics. Pan was somewhere on the list of Gregory’s priorities. Pan didn’t mind.</p>
<p>They ate in Gregory’s suite in a bubble he shared with other single and widowed men. The meal was supplemented by Mars’s staple algae. Pan used his extended claws to pick apart the strands and feed them into his mouth. Some humans winced at the sight. Gregory didn’t notice as he tapped away at a plastic sheet.</p>
<p>He said suddenly, “Your mother believed you were destined for great things.”</p>
<p>“I know. She told me stories of exiled princes regaining their thrones.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t only fairy tales. She had a picture.”</p>
<p>Pan lowered his claws.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wR2ImjTkXjCaVkR-iv7efwT04y4F1Kh5k50ShV1lonocZYg2S_IkYILKGm76mXB9e8WvTgtiUWChefpP_mwc4nMPi7Yfr5lxdfao-E_1KrIC8xjRnTBv73YqteDWB0xQTc7LK-gtreF79iKsYDMqn7bBeNwK89_cQi_oEzS5x-RYjZUMptq6bg/s750/Medieval%20Wolf.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="750" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wR2ImjTkXjCaVkR-iv7efwT04y4F1Kh5k50ShV1lonocZYg2S_IkYILKGm76mXB9e8WvTgtiUWChefpP_mwc4nMPi7Yfr5lxdfao-E_1KrIC8xjRnTBv73YqteDWB0xQTc7LK-gtreF79iKsYDMqn7bBeNwK89_cQi_oEzS5x-RYjZUMptq6bg/w245-h133/Medieval%20Wolf.jpg" width="245" /></a></div>“Not of you. One of those medieval illustrations on the side of a manuscript: a wolf with a long tail and purple eyes. A picture she bought at auction. I think that’s one reason she insisted we take you on. It was the right decision,” Gregory said, as if he was worried Pan would assume that only Samantha had cared what happened to him.<p></p>
<p>“Do you have it?” Pan said. “The picture?”</p>
<p>“She destroyed it soon after we arrived. She didn’t want anyone to make the connection between you and wild animals, to take you from us.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Pan said. No one else might say it, but he should. </p>
<p>“You stick close to Quin and Allec,” Gregory told him. “And come back,” he added, which was a shout of affection right there, if one knew how to read it.</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-5368916103097242532024-01-26T08:00:00.004-05:002024-01-26T09:23:11.515-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 7, Part II<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZ-7dD1RpJSJHXuwBuzkxb5zYohn6AKQiYa6YT5oh8MRTu_q3NFI9Mz_meMOOqFVY5u7v9iYgaIBnC0Xr7WxLU97ihTQOMWQkiB9PQNzGLaNeg6xmkppnGeEFC9bU2P3vMPZyFsrABAaeGsHpubKK6lOGhCkNIukReMNOf262EApC-YX2IOZMjQ/s799/Vegas%201970s.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="637" data-original-width="799" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZ-7dD1RpJSJHXuwBuzkxb5zYohn6AKQiYa6YT5oh8MRTu_q3NFI9Mz_meMOOqFVY5u7v9iYgaIBnC0Xr7WxLU97ihTQOMWQkiB9PQNzGLaNeg6xmkppnGeEFC9bU2P3vMPZyFsrABAaeGsHpubKK6lOGhCkNIukReMNOf262EApC-YX2IOZMjQ/w176-h141/Vegas%201970s.jpg" width="176" /></a>Cloning operations on the Moon were under review, but the Moon’s entertainment offerings, ranging from amusement parks to brothels, continued without apology. For Lider, the Moon was the “Vegas” of his past, the one before it became a family vacationland.</p>
<p>Junad said, “That clone—the one that looks after Panfilo, <i>it</i> stole documents. It proved the faithful can dig up the truth.”</p>
<p>That clone, Allec, would claim he was researching his origins when he walked off with digital devices full of lab information. But Junad had a point. Rebels were often pack animals—no pun intended—to a far greater extent than they imagined. What one did, another could do.</p>
<p>Lider said, his tone still belligerent, “Nobody on the forums has connected Panfilo to cloning.”</p>
<p>Junad scoffed. “Those wannabes. <i>Protest through rallies, through laws, through our fancy words</i>. Powerless cretins. An Anthros infiltrated the Moon’s defenses.”</p>
<p><i>Got hired and sabotaged the company. </i>Allec, at least, had a personal reason to "steal" digital information about his genetic structure.</p>
<p>Lider went for sarcasm, “So you say. So that Anthros says.”</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAFFWAfly2re28DNTrcIo5gBtA9ZOh17wt8jR8DUdErX8-q8e0iYRGyUPBjDkWYr6qi6h8OsTqwQ8NSx0sAdf9YGPUTSdRzm3xf3gEsbxarB9RdG4hO9JFuxyEktnXUvpty_nWUz3Z1-mNDebaB0r5x96ECsIZ5Y9LU6YBudZFKYaVMQYdmJBkPg/s636/Killer%20Rabbits.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="636" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAFFWAfly2re28DNTrcIo5gBtA9ZOh17wt8jR8DUdErX8-q8e0iYRGyUPBjDkWYr6qi6h8OsTqwQ8NSx0sAdf9YGPUTSdRzm3xf3gEsbxarB9RdG4hO9JFuxyEktnXUvpty_nWUz3Z1-mNDebaB0r5x96ECsIZ5Y9LU6YBudZFKYaVMQYdmJBkPg/w187-h134/Killer%20Rabbits.jpeg" width="187" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.dailyartmagazine.com/killer-rabbits-in-medieval-manuscripts/" target="_blank">Killer rabbits.</a><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Junad was not a trained assassin. A trained assassin would have succeeded in killing its target. Panfilo hadn’t been chaperoned since he arrived on the station as a young teen. A visitor could have found a way to encounter him alone—though, in fairness to Junad, Quin being in the corridor at the same time had been something of a fluke.<p></p>
<p>Junad snapped, “Not everything is in online forums. Animals don’t need that so-called human invention. Anthros don’t need it. Communication takes many forms.”</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTI-MqSKoyv6bbw8kEvzNPtyMqbAqcpWARltLuTDltuJaz0PEA34CMOg-uq6EHQE-Jw1XiK_xTi_NP5RgJoJf6uhhk8OyP3OmUqwC8WroTPd0w-f2HTCfPdIOwgj-76IR64lNvQwhKZMd_62lE3VYSyXpqJElQodgxwus8iZKoCQJQ0T_cHD1bg/s1943/Graverobbers%20Graveyard%202.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1943" data-original-width="1598" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTI-MqSKoyv6bbw8kEvzNPtyMqbAqcpWARltLuTDltuJaz0PEA34CMOg-uq6EHQE-Jw1XiK_xTi_NP5RgJoJf6uhhk8OyP3OmUqwC8WroTPd0w-f2HTCfPdIOwgj-76IR64lNvQwhKZMd_62lE3VYSyXpqJElQodgxwus8iZKoCQJQ0T_cHD1bg/w182-h221/Graverobbers%20Graveyard%202.png" width="182" /></a></p><p>Ah. Like Allec, the thieving Anthros carried information away from the Moon on its person. No doubt that Anthros delivered the information in a secret meeting surrounded by the paraphernalia and rituals of all such societies. Did Junad and his companions meet at midnight in graveyards under waning moons? Did they use code to communicate? Did they slide notes into each other’s pockets, whisper invitations to new potential members? How seriously did they take themselves?</p>
<p><i>As seriously as we should take them, I suppose.</i></p>
<p>Lider said, “<i>You</i> never saw that document. You heard the story, I bet. But you never met <i>that</i> heroic Anthros.”</p>
<p>Lider kept his expression faintly skeptical. But he could tell immediately that he’d gone too far. Junad may not be an assassin trained to handle torture while never admitting to anything. But loyalty to the group was an engrained characteristic with all sentient beings, and Anthros—who alleged to possess the greatest amount of natural loyalty—would balk at giving up a member. Hence Queen Artia denouncing Junad while claiming him.</p>
<p>Junad squeezed as far as he could against the opposite side of the shield, eyes shut, mouth closed, teeth grinding. Lider got up and crossed to Rhys.</p>
<p>Rhys said, “Ironic that an evil clone inspired an Anthros to carry out an act to save Anthros from evil clones.”</p>
<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ3geqZT3yG8TihGMFwyaOkz0eehV9dJSii9ClGH2k3sgvGmh6VOwlYEriX6oejZIP4igZL-kLaZf4U3RnMzd-3fHtoy2wpHg0_gHn5jXtRmiN8rpGzJU632ByDz08HzaPc3zRtp4ilNgACKs5uer86_YtwTHpUFAPXucICRxiBi6P0aDrOY8KYw/s2500/Moon%20Earth.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1567" data-original-width="2500" height="108" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ3geqZT3yG8TihGMFwyaOkz0eehV9dJSii9ClGH2k3sgvGmh6VOwlYEriX6oejZIP4igZL-kLaZf4U3RnMzd-3fHtoy2wpHg0_gHn5jXtRmiN8rpGzJU632ByDz08HzaPc3zRtp4ilNgACKs5uer86_YtwTHpUFAPXucICRxiBi6P0aDrOY8KYw/w172-h108/Moon%20Earth.jpg" width="172" /></a>“I don’t think Junad has a strong grasp of irony.”</p>
<p>“No. There are drugs that loose the tongue.”</p>
<p>“You know they are unreliable. Suspects conflate, exaggerate, invent.”</p>
<p></p>“Yes. Then we should go,” Rhys said. “To the Moon, to Earth.”<p></p>
<p>Lider agreed. </p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-37332980300810865902024-01-19T08:00:00.007-05:002024-01-19T08:34:51.156-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 7, Part I<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86KIPO_1uR0KpcH-b0QQ-BsTZ8ogytlxHBHPKP-lRVW_PqQ2EyvELzAB9H4i6USZ98EBRmAb5KyEKrRxRbxPWewhT0pLgMdJ5Y9w_wb2nQgIlMbhIV3cV5KIdHc6JtqL4cq_UKmkdKYN_L7mfdxj-6EvMO9eJcze7oY47x4_j6G_46gjLT-b8WA/s720/Akihito%20Left.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86KIPO_1uR0KpcH-b0QQ-BsTZ8ogytlxHBHPKP-lRVW_PqQ2EyvELzAB9H4i6USZ98EBRmAb5KyEKrRxRbxPWewhT0pLgMdJ5Y9w_wb2nQgIlMbhIV3cV5KIdHc6JtqL4cq_UKmkdKYN_L7mfdxj-6EvMO9eJcze7oY47x4_j6G_46gjLT-b8WA/w199-h149/Akihito%20Left.jpg" width="199" /></a></b></div><b>L</b>ider sat by Junad’s cot on a chair he couldn’t feel. Security medical personnel had cleaned Junad, exercised him, and returned him to the cot. He was restrained by an energy field, but he could wiggle. He recoiled when Lider settled within his line of sight. He looked away, pupils large, ears flattened back.<p></p>
<p>“I’m Canon Lider.”</p>
<p>No answer.</p>
<p>“I’m Monseigneur’s partner—”</p>
<p>Junad quivered.</p>
<p>“I tagged him. And registered. We’ll be married when I gain more mass—”</p>
<p>“Deceiver.”</p>
<p>Lider had wagered that between Junad’s rage and his fear, his rage would win. Junad didn’t stop:</p>
<p>“Non-real. Non-planet-liver. Hater of nature.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuyWizs3ybzdWfxg34S0cK4UEji_oWSP8CtEDILlWacCYA70Mq61WkOXyxGQFb6U0lK_neguEjETdbsK_adnHP6F3aTf-0X9qowDsl4MS9_58lUUVOC7HimiaHWUpXSOxacAh6r_9LGv-THQ-kQghTZ5chmp04ymoR42VQJH83KwXCITz9h4_TOA/s800/Solar%20Neutrinos.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="800" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuyWizs3ybzdWfxg34S0cK4UEji_oWSP8CtEDILlWacCYA70Mq61WkOXyxGQFb6U0lK_neguEjETdbsK_adnHP6F3aTf-0X9qowDsl4MS9_58lUUVOC7HimiaHWUpXSOxacAh6r_9LGv-THQ-kQghTZ5chmp04ymoR42VQJH83KwXCITz9h4_TOA/w215-h121/Solar%20Neutrinos.png" width="215" /></a></div>“Neutrinos are part of nature,” Rhys objected from Lider’s prior spot against the infirmary wall.<p></p>
<p>Lider smiled to himself.</p>
<p>“Invisible. Untouchable. Substanceless. You should stay that way.”</p>
<p>Lider could practically feel Rhys’s trembling, his fierce wish to argue on Lider’s behalf. <i>I should have told him to stay outside. </i></p>
<p>Junad continued, “Contrived. Pretended. Not natural.”</p>
<p>Lider said, “Like clones.”</p>
<p>Silence.</p>
<p>“Allec is a fantastic chef. And a good, ah, uncle-type figure.”</p>
<p>Rhys snorted, but Lider couldn’t bring himself to call Allec a <i>father figure</i>. Quin, maybe.</p>
<p>Lider didn’t stop. “Married to a decent man. His life extended.”</p>
<p>“He should never have been created in the first place,” Junad spat.</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfjGLPcJkPZ_0ppZ1zlcuemqEG08kTXVMeRAFP2c6EZkZq1-0LdTuLlk5uYE9B6I3D3jiVJRZU1IRFuQESgJRG1UeTynXfMSi7W_PCcMpzHe1V54ow7eME6OD0KpbxwUQrCyqxQYEsYUqhZWbK_dtY6hwddCSP-8cVH5TYxhtQxds16C5k1iVpg/s1200/Mar%C3%ADa%20Branyas%20Morera.webp" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1200" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfjGLPcJkPZ_0ppZ1zlcuemqEG08kTXVMeRAFP2c6EZkZq1-0LdTuLlk5uYE9B6I3D3jiVJRZU1IRFuQESgJRG1UeTynXfMSi7W_PCcMpzHe1V54ow7eME6OD0KpbxwUQrCyqxQYEsYUqhZWbK_dtY6hwddCSP-8cVH5TYxhtQxds16C5k1iVpg/w227-h136/Mar%C3%ADa%20Branyas%20Morera.webp" width="227" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2023/jan/26/worlds-oldest-person-115-maria-branyas-morera-california" target="_blank">María Branyas Morera 116 Years Old</a><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>A lot of people agreed with Junad. Hence the lawsuits against Moon Cloning Operations. But few of those people thought that Allec shouldn’t live as long as he could <i>now</i>. One reason for Quin and Allec’s travel to Earth was to discuss that possibility with life-extension researchers there.<p></p>
<p>Junad thumped his legs within the shield but otherwise remained passive. Lider gathered that Allec was detested in a periphery sort of way. An assassin’s tunnel vision had some positive attributes. <i>Panfilo</i> was the hated object here.</p>
<p>Because he was an Anthros who loved Mars? Because he was a pretend Anthros? Like the Cubi-become-Anthros, Xavier?</p>
<p>Lider said, “Xavier—”</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz5b_MwZgulU2KmoBn-2vtTj-R4P4TH7ZCcBVh0zmFeEbbDy0V_9LYL-D8YMvJoOZHIZdjiOmQ7ZBJiBgHtckjWL-qSnUrWvn_xfNR940sWU4s_blT1_fN04tRjw9D6yTjocpOazAafK1BT3-64gLh273ZKqE3cuxEZN0DuTu5c4cgxPbuptc5UQ/s423/Xavier.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="303" data-original-width="423" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz5b_MwZgulU2KmoBn-2vtTj-R4P4TH7ZCcBVh0zmFeEbbDy0V_9LYL-D8YMvJoOZHIZdjiOmQ7ZBJiBgHtckjWL-qSnUrWvn_xfNR940sWU4s_blT1_fN04tRjw9D6yTjocpOazAafK1BT3-64gLh273ZKqE3cuxEZN0DuTu5c4cgxPbuptc5UQ/w186-h133/Xavier.jpg" width="186" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Xavier</td></tr></tbody></table>And Junad was off: Xavier was a freak, a disgusting conniver, an instrument of the lying Vatican, which was a hotbed of human-Cubi deception. Humans and Cubi were in league to destroy Anthros, to weaken them through theological poaching, intermarriage, false prophets. Look at humans who got surgery to give them false Anthros tails and ears. Look at Cubi who pretended to be Anthros. And now the Moon—<p></p>
<p>Lider knew that Junad couldn’t hear him draw a breath, and Rhys was carefully noiseless after his initial outburst. But self-preservation is a powerful tool within all species. On the word “Moon,” Junad shut his mouth.</p>
<p>Lider said immediately, his voice carrying over Junad’s almost imperceptible pause, “But Panfilo is an Anthros. Born and bred. He was abandoned—”</p>
<p>“Not real. Not born to a mammal. The Moon admits its guilt.”</p>
<p>“The Moon never did. Not with all those lawsuits. It shut down tighter than a bank vault.”</p>
<p>He thought Rhys coughed a laugh since Lider rarely let his age slip with such historical allusions. Junad paid no heed.</p>
<p>He hissed, “There are still good Anthros, even on that desolate paeon to corrupt science and pleasures.”</p>
<p>A mixed metaphor but Junad wasn’t the only one to see the Moon as a cesspool of immoral philosophies and exploits. </p><p></p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-17509861208001070062024-01-12T08:00:00.002-05:002024-01-12T09:26:26.111-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 6, Part II<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRfxrF1mcBPiNyQLR9kH_m5D2GVuxZKrnUZEMBzd499D-rYrnkb8-Kag1Qj-ORpAw09NemyvVxXvWq0erKN1as7AoHs8NlK965CUvLZs6wVrp4GDE9mqgHUGQQuMm7aSo-sa_dzzXo4F26cu5tsrhN-Iufg68jcgLoUoCxHE4EAU3RRDjx-a-T_A/s406/Mitred%20Corners.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="271" data-original-width="406" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRfxrF1mcBPiNyQLR9kH_m5D2GVuxZKrnUZEMBzd499D-rYrnkb8-Kag1Qj-ORpAw09NemyvVxXvWq0erKN1as7AoHs8NlK965CUvLZs6wVrp4GDE9mqgHUGQQuMm7aSo-sa_dzzXo4F26cu5tsrhN-Iufg68jcgLoUoCxHE4EAU3RRDjx-a-T_A/w237-h158/Mitred%20Corners.jpeg" width="237" /></a></div>Lider watched Rhys make a cursory effort at straightening the bed covers—Lider would do a better job—and didn’t snap at him to make mitred corners. He sank his head to his knees.<p></p>
<p>Rhys said, “At the Species in Space Symposium, the human-Cubi panel suggested that Cubi further from the sun, from Earth, gain corporeality slower.”</p>
<p>“I remember,” Lider said.</p>
<p>“Pan has accepted Queen Artia’s invitation. He, Quin, and Allec will be on the next ship to Earth.”</p>
<p>“You think we should go too?”</p>
<p>“Archbishop Tennyson—” Rhys’s superior “—suggests I check in.”</p>
<p>“Prove that your Cubus exists.”</p>
<p>“And Siobhan says I promised to visit within ten years.”</p>
<p>“Your sister misses you,” Lider said in a milder tone.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOXCWKuI3Ya2pBg0FfeYX-K7V1p9pz6v-Vmt5HigVBcgEurgA9mvMnAjKJzEBSXzyk_TyfBM3cQeiQLMIcwlHgredQu8pBnKTO8dCOadTg6m6qzzQ57lsrfMrTePwTi3hqgSH2IasALK79rcd1kMF-ytxG0JVsoYqxgeTd7O38peQetADCRFsTWw/s644/Rockwell%20Thanksgiving%20Simpsons.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="430" data-original-width="644" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOXCWKuI3Ya2pBg0FfeYX-K7V1p9pz6v-Vmt5HigVBcgEurgA9mvMnAjKJzEBSXzyk_TyfBM3cQeiQLMIcwlHgredQu8pBnKTO8dCOadTg6m6qzzQ57lsrfMrTePwTi3hqgSH2IasALK79rcd1kMF-ytxG0JVsoYqxgeTd7O38peQetADCRFsTWw/w236-h158/Rockwell%20Thanksgiving%20Simpsons.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>Siobhan—a cheerful married woman with three boys and a constantly stressed husband-- knew about Lider and even, occasionally, sent him greetings in her regular letters and video messages. Lider sent inoffensive, friendly greetings back through Rhys. He wasn’t sure Siobhan accepted the idea of Lider, but whatever her brother did was…whatever her brother did. <p></p>
<p>“And going to Earth will help you towards corporeality.” Rhys paused, hands full of bedsheets. “Which you want.”</p>
<p><i>Yes.</i> He did. He knew that Rhys and Stan both wondered if he was balking at corporeality, if after so many years of observing humans, weighing his choices, determining the most advantageous opportunity, Lider was wondering if he shouldn’t wait a little longer. Tagging Rhys had happened when he caught the ship to Mars, pushed himself beyond Earth’s confines.</p>
<p>Lider didn’t doubt his tagging. He knew he wanted Rhys. The last near-decade hadn’t changed his mind.</p>
<p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUAwq6KgECs8AwtH-fO_6CK54pRaYk6BAQq2J_MRaU2RehMkPjXgQMokGkbDcW-LIyBx3MmmDYQ1kb0FdvgIaT6fAg-td_x317dYHbrT_ZWfbipuXiBQVBe3A9PaeJ6wup0LRMjR0SWPoS2MLjAwXUjqbHkJsBxJ0VTiXVoVIrIkj4f8icNBKvg/s540/Joe%20Volcano.gif" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="540" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUAwq6KgECs8AwtH-fO_6CK54pRaYk6BAQq2J_MRaU2RehMkPjXgQMokGkbDcW-LIyBx3MmmDYQ1kb0FdvgIaT6fAg-td_x317dYHbrT_ZWfbipuXiBQVBe3A9PaeJ6wup0LRMjR0SWPoS2MLjAwXUjqbHkJsBxJ0VTiXVoVIrIkj4f8icNBKvg/w280-h130/Joe%20Volcano.gif" width="280" /></a></i></div><i>But corporeality is a final step. It’s a strait and narrow path. </i><p></p>
<p><i>True choice. True consequences. That’s what I always said I wanted. </i></p>
<p>Rhys hadn’t asked a question, not entirely, but Lider said, “I want to resolve this process.”</p>
<p>Rhys studied the bed, tucked a sheet into a tighter corner. “Age and experience aside, I miss your body, Lider.”</p>
<p>He looked over his shoulder then. They smiled at each other</p>
<p>Rhys said briskly. “And I think we need to go to Earth to complete this investigation. We’re still not sure of Junad’s connections—if they extend beyond his self-deluding narrative. As for the Moon—”</p>
<p>“I asked Allec to contact the technicians who helped him ‘arrive.’ So far he’s encountered an ignorance he thinks is partly assumed. Because of all the lawsuits, probably.”</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkihLADPuP_G3348CQFDB7AlIrFBGRbYKamxa-1qstyIZXg0CWo5vQnSJeUw_IJjcaEMaMWAV0G45WmI9UCMu7SXgfMkEKZUI0q-xsj2vd1goX33Ne9AU2bAvO4OMR8OqbY4dTf1UuvkwLK6VFDYtoLvg4tLmFWGRjriDksTyA2qQTw5Ac7Tnm-g/s720/Organs%20on%20a%20Chip.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="720" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkihLADPuP_G3348CQFDB7AlIrFBGRbYKamxa-1qstyIZXg0CWo5vQnSJeUw_IJjcaEMaMWAV0G45WmI9UCMu7SXgfMkEKZUI0q-xsj2vd1goX33Ne9AU2bAvO4OMR8OqbY4dTf1UuvkwLK6VFDYtoLvg4tLmFWGRjriDksTyA2qQTw5Ac7Tnm-g/s320/Organs%20on%20a%20Chip.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.technologynetworks.com/drug-discovery/articles/advances-in-organ-on-a-chip-technology-380853" target="_blank">Organs on a Chip</a><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Adult cloning on the Moon was shut down when Allec’s case entered the forums and certain documents about adult cloning (supplied by Allec) emerged. Baby cloning was currently under review. Organ cloning was proceeding forward with oversight by the General Diplomatic Corps. Companies that engaged in plastic surgery and rejuvenation services continued to operate discreetly.<p></p>
<p>“Exactly,” Rhys said. “We might have more luck face to face.”</p>
<p>“It could be a wild hare,” Lider pointed out. “The whole cloning idea. We haven’t found any similar claims online.”</p>
<p>Rhys grunted. Lider eyed him, tracked him.</p>
<p>He said, “Unless, of course, Junad has access to other sources.”</p>
<p>“Lider—”</p>
<p>“No intrusion. We’re doing this investigation by the book. But it might be time to, ah, unleash me or call me forth or whatever one does with demons.”</p>
<p>Rhys made the bed, carried his cassock to the vertical dry-cleaning unit, tossed a pillow through the archway onto the living room armchair. He neared Lider, leaned over him.</p>
<p>“You are no demon, Lider.”</p>
<p>Lider raised his face. If he was closer to corporeality, their breaths would brush each other’s skin.</p>
<p>He said, “We use what the suspect believes to gather more information.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Rhys said.</p>
<p>In a dream, in this moment, Lider would reach up to ruffle Rhys’s hair, and Rhys would collapse beside him on the same seat. Touch would communicate that they were on the same page.</p>
<p>“I know too,” Lider said instead.</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-14326328777909454492024-01-05T08:00:00.004-05:002024-01-05T09:28:52.604-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 6, Part I<p><b>“I’</b>m sorry for losing my temper,” Lider said.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHG3TtmINv846-CWwc9QXJ2IKgptis4YSWHfHA5CiQ98HvcgG57KhnOa7EvKx7SyH7rgae7a0qNXDxO873TDtxmz7faTiBFuf02psmAXr3BbwYNlBXXw7gXU3BRzWoGcs59rL8EpC78NCG3jdj_Yu-VqMgio897DwBEnLGvni2HQtqRRwM7-xp5Q/s250/Akihito%20Profile%20Asami.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="250" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHG3TtmINv846-CWwc9QXJ2IKgptis4YSWHfHA5CiQ98HvcgG57KhnOa7EvKx7SyH7rgae7a0qNXDxO873TDtxmz7faTiBFuf02psmAXr3BbwYNlBXXw7gXU3BRzWoGcs59rL8EpC78NCG3jdj_Yu-VqMgio897DwBEnLGvni2HQtqRRwM7-xp5Q/w193-h193/Akihito%20Profile%20Asami.webp" width="193" /></a></div><p></p>
<p>He’d already sent Francesca a letter of apology written by Rhys.</p>
<p>“Seems to me, Will deserved your anger. Francesca knew it wasn’t directed at her.”</p>
<p>“I should know better,” Lider said. “Anger doesn’t achieve results, not over something as witless as Will conferring with beings he <i>knows </i>don’t take reality seriously.”</p>
<p>He watched Rhys stroll about their apartment sorting clothes and dumping out food containers—they would eventually go to the incinerators. Lider “sat” on the apartment’s couch.</p>
<p>A Cubus as far gone towards corporeality as Lider was restrained by human-created material objects. That didn’t mean he could tell anyone if the chair was hard or soft, the wall smooth or cold or unsteady, not by feel anyway.</p>
<p>Lider said, “You shut down Will before he could mock my transitional state.”</p>
<p>“Wait until <i>he</i> goes through it.”</p>
<p>“He’ll wink wink and nudge nudge the whole time.”</p>
<p>“Is that what you thought you would do?”</p>
<p>“I knew it would be difficult—I’d been told it would be difficult—but, yeah.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6st8GEwoyEFOs7AArniG4B8c-ZrmbSfZJIPylJA_1HgvI1qgvwJvbCRpQ5f5nwUY2l4SApQj0VbAg-bkdUEC9XT-p9oiUqn_cyyu09d9PqdMXVwVuiK98P1EEGxajwAcBtXlsy5wk4cUw55JVjL0ficLkbzQoqCqMATAEc7Lbpd8CjdETeYsAiA/s400/Akihito%20Rhys.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="256" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6st8GEwoyEFOs7AArniG4B8c-ZrmbSfZJIPylJA_1HgvI1qgvwJvbCRpQ5f5nwUY2l4SApQj0VbAg-bkdUEC9XT-p9oiUqn_cyyu09d9PqdMXVwVuiK98P1EEGxajwAcBtXlsy5wk4cUw55JVjL0ficLkbzQoqCqMATAEc7Lbpd8CjdETeYsAiA/w168-h262/Akihito%20Rhys.jpg" width="168" /></a></div>Rhys gave him an understanding <i>I’m with you mate</i> grimace. Except Rhys was handling his six months of full celibacy better than Lider.<p></p>
<p>Experience counted. Lider had always believed that. If he hadn’t believed it before, he would believe it now. Rhys had nearly forty years—twenty-five of those years with coursing hormones—to learn to control his lustful impulses. Lider had none. Ten years of being Rhys’s closest companion, of having Rhys physically in reach during dreams followed by nothing was playing havoc with Lider’s ghostly nerves.</p>
<p><i>Not nothing</i>, Lider reminded himself. He had Rhys’s voice and presence and perceptive comments. He had the constant reminders—that sometimes stung and sometimes calmed—that Rhys <i>wanted</i> to touch him.</p>
<p>“It will get worse<i>,</i>” Stan told Lider.</p>
<p>Stan was the station’s Monitor, a corporeal Cubus who supervised station Cubi, the corporeal ones and the semi-corporeal one, Lider. A large number of Cubi had arrived on the station for the symposium. They were supposedly all gone now except the official, registered ones.</p>
<p>Stan could no longer see or hear invisible Cubi, but he was the Monitor anyway because everyone trusted Stan. In truth, even if Stan could see and hear invisible Cubi, he wouldn’t be able to stop them from visiting the planet. Cubi could go deep within a human. Cubi Masters could flit from human to human without getting attached. There were far more Cubi about than anyone would ever admit.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJc_PT_EL1i5yq75yFrisRyxdxuy4Fxmp3kNcR_xM1B0qNkV76im9s0x4rf6FGDcpSBLakfEkPE-G7Znj_MOM0jKHONmpwlfXWvvOTYpm7ITG-5GqqJvsaCsS6cn-MLDLMtPQp1jnOXAIbu8cUJx7kR7lAKp7Or-5h9YYSNK4UqS_WNxpJ47X8sQ/s480/Phoebe.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="320" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJc_PT_EL1i5yq75yFrisRyxdxuy4Fxmp3kNcR_xM1B0qNkV76im9s0x4rf6FGDcpSBLakfEkPE-G7Znj_MOM0jKHONmpwlfXWvvOTYpm7ITG-5GqqJvsaCsS6cn-MLDLMtPQp1jnOXAIbu8cUJx7kR7lAKp7Or-5h9YYSNK4UqS_WNxpJ47X8sQ/w173-h260/Phoebe.jpg" width="173" /></a></div>Stan’s “reports” were mostly used to calm fears. Nobody wanted to descend the “how many Cubi are there really?” rabbit hole.<p></p>
<p>Stan could see and speak to Lider now like everyone else. And his raw honesty helped. Stan was married to Phoebe Culstee, his tagged human, the director of the station’s infirmary. She had recently requested a replacement due to health problems, and Stan was pained. Cubi generally lived longer than their humans—barring accidents—and Stan was seeing the love of his life start down a path of narrowing capabilities.</p>
<p>Sometimes Lider avoided Stan: the reality of Stan’s situation too stark a reminder of loss. He was nevertheless grateful for Stan’s understanding.</p>
<p>“As you get closer to corporeality, those hormones—the ones you’ve accrued to your form—will start to make themselves felt. Right now, you’re feeling the loss of habits. In time, you’ll start to crave your lover.”</p>
<p><i>I already do. </i>“Rhys is managing,” Lider said glumly.</p>
<p>Stan snorted. “Your quasi-celibate priest. He’s had practice.”</p>
<p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQJ0cSBH98b5o8HyJRIaDXltfVk8yEi9uu-W3VpueapArANPbmwQ5F6fkdtQmGCf73u_X42mKmDlyH8twD5L0WFCLmMuGbEkrx8Kxx2tTaRtmNCaBzhdQWObp5-ckmTp-GJMvjCKLnL2JiVl-nEH_EnmoWBOP59CW0qo-dy2p63BjvXR4JOh_9Og/s1200/Moon%20Bishop.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1200" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQJ0cSBH98b5o8HyJRIaDXltfVk8yEi9uu-W3VpueapArANPbmwQ5F6fkdtQmGCf73u_X42mKmDlyH8twD5L0WFCLmMuGbEkrx8Kxx2tTaRtmNCaBzhdQWObp5-ckmTp-GJMvjCKLnL2JiVl-nEH_EnmoWBOP59CW0qo-dy2p63BjvXR4JOh_9Og/w233-h132/Moon%20Bishop.png" width="233" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.iflscience.com/the-catholic-church-officially-has-a-moon-bishop-67113" target="_blank">Moon Bishop</a><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Like a number of priests, Rhys was <i>celibate with exceptions</i>. He could have a Cubus, for instance. When Lider become fully corporeal, Rhys’s status would change to <i>married</i>. The paperwork was already filed. There would be no gap between Lider’s full corporeality and consummation.</p>
<p>Rhys would never rise to a full bishopric. But he was content with his current position, and he wanted Lider with him. Lider knew that. He wasn’t doubting his relationship with Rhys. He was grappling with patience and forbearance and a whole quiversful of virtues that Lider usually extolled.</p>
<p><i>Except these days, I</i><i> have to </i>live<i> the virtues. </i></p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-5443391802542366112023-12-29T08:00:00.013-05:002023-12-29T09:57:59.080-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 5, Part II<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwlbGKuRBOAtY4bRRHeJqKqsnQqKIVFLJGhJ1yytSkcH4WJ-itbTJuCs-LvaARlSlb_jMh08I5gDGBazmlLSXUhQGKp1E5zFZu54PfZ3c1J4LQol3AA3L0RPWtahXOAY9dDUbV-Op3nPbau8Wx-Sn93CkExXA_P5_2__r5t64HZZrj6yGwPryAaQ/s540/Will%20Saint%202.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="540" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwlbGKuRBOAtY4bRRHeJqKqsnQqKIVFLJGhJ1yytSkcH4WJ-itbTJuCs-LvaARlSlb_jMh08I5gDGBazmlLSXUhQGKp1E5zFZu54PfZ3c1J4LQol3AA3L0RPWtahXOAY9dDUbV-Op3nPbau8Wx-Sn93CkExXA_P5_2__r5t64HZZrj6yGwPryAaQ/w208-h173/Will%20Saint%202.jpg" width="208" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Will<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Francesca said, “Will has given me information about Panfilo.”<p></p>
<p>Will, Asyrwllr, was Francesca’s Cubus.</p>
<p>“Will?” Lider said sharply. “What does Will have to do with Panfilo?”</p>
<p>“When we were on the station—Will came with me because of you, Lider—”</p>
<p>“I know that.”</p>
<p>“—to check on your situation, to sanction your presence on the station. And to oversee my research into a Mars’ saint. While he was there, he spotted Panfilo.”</p>
<p>“Panfilo wasn’t living on the station then. He was still living on Mars with Greg Aland.”</p>
<p>Rhys said, “His foster father works with Quin on occasion. Will might have seen the boy at the trading post. Did Will spot that Panfilo was an Anthros? His parents—the Alands—covered up the most obvious indicators. Panfilo didn’t manifest clear Anthros behavior until his teens.”</p>
<p>Francesca sighed. She made an abrupt dismissive gesture to her side, took a breath, and stared straight at the screen.</p>
<p>“Will thought he recognized Panfilo.”</p>
<p>“From Earth?” Lider’s tone was sharper now. “Did he see the abandoned boy there? And did nothing?”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrCHgI-0N4X7F__VXQ3L7ixVFMSUZV63f6mlmUi-dc6qN5RGTWIpa3e6Uwt-Slzu21vx7YX5rHGEJnt8M5I-zTWqpWo3fETXyLC0MGGBhV8iEeHR5uE0FPqHufr0_QqsD_RkKXxjpeutffmidHRj3-f4YayitWo1g_hmLa5OvVbNsL1UMT3CMuw/s1200/Wolf%20and%20Child.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="706" data-original-width="1200" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrCHgI-0N4X7F__VXQ3L7ixVFMSUZV63f6mlmUi-dc6qN5RGTWIpa3e6Uwt-Slzu21vx7YX5rHGEJnt8M5I-zTWqpWo3fETXyLC0MGGBhV8iEeHR5uE0FPqHufr0_QqsD_RkKXxjpeutffmidHRj3-f4YayitWo1g_hmLa5OvVbNsL1UMT3CMuw/w250-h147/Wolf%20and%20Child.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>“Not exactly. Will wants me to emphasize that all we have here is speculation.”<p></p>
<p>“Cubi Master fucking reticence can take a break,” Lider snarled and abruptly hunched his shoulders.</p>
<p>Rhys moved to stand beside him and gave the screen his pleasant, closed-mouthed smile. Will, he knew, was fully capable of pointing out that Lider’s short temper possibly came from sources other than Cubi reticence. But Lider wasn’t on trial here.</p>
<p>Will either kept his amused comments to himself or Francesca didn’t repeat them.</p>
<p>She said, “Panfilo reminded Will of his past. His distant past when he encountered a saint named Bettelin.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZyImNaQldhjsS7ZlqygOgIB9SP7DWMx6jQDexyYLNCIHdonxCd7ucWvgMysUQWw6GVGa7V0q2FJUSFl7hfKdhREz7InOhWM596-WiiBxD4E55TkTPU-CIMFNSYZy2rkw-MkUiuGPjdM3Z1ExaC65yfEV601zKUGDjXt1qgUioqOXlEIIQ95_-Ag/s292/St%20Bettelin.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="292" data-original-width="172" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZyImNaQldhjsS7ZlqygOgIB9SP7DWMx6jQDexyYLNCIHdonxCd7ucWvgMysUQWw6GVGa7V0q2FJUSFl7hfKdhREz7InOhWM596-WiiBxD4E55TkTPU-CIMFNSYZy2rkw-MkUiuGPjdM3Z1ExaC65yfEV601zKUGDjXt1qgUioqOXlEIIQ95_-Ag/s1600/St%20Bettelin.jpg" width="172" /></a></div>“Bettelin? He’s an English saint,” Lider said, bewildered while Rhys was processing the information that Will, a Cubus Master, had been handling Cubi-human interactions for nearly a thousand years.<p></p>
<p>“Will says Bettelin was accompanied by a child, his son according to Bettelin. A wolf boy.”</p>
<p>Francesca paused, then frowned. She shook her head. Nobody spoke.</p>
<p>Lider said finally, “Anthros arrived on Earth two hundred years ago.”</p>
<p>“Stories of werewolves are older,” Rhys added.</p>
<p>“But that’s the implication, isn’t it?” Lider said. “That Panfilo is a descendant of an Anthros from medieval times?”</p>
<p>“Or the clone of one,” Rhys murmured.</p>
<p>“Or that Panfilo is an Anthros with a human ancestor,” Francesca said.</p>
<p>Three heresies for the price of one. But all entirely speculative unless—</p>
<p>Lider snapped, “And Will didn’t share this information earlier because it was too <i>sensitive</i>?”</p>
<p>“Will wants me to remind you that Cubi knowledge is not absolute knowledge. He noted the resemblance, including Panfilo’s special characteristics. The unusually long tail. The crown of gold along his hair line. The rings of purple and gold around his tail. His lavender eyes. He noted them. Aberrations. He reported—”</p>
<p>“To bureaucrats,” Lider said. “To Cubi holier-than-thou Masters who reduce real suffering to abstractions.”</p>
<p>Rhys could swear Francesca was gripping the table beneath the screen—not in fear. Francesca didn’t seem to fear anything. To stop herself making a rude gesture at Lider or at Will.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWxI50X_2U-p9vFMa7_tbApjS3x9QuMjEHHieT1Kwu6i0kj_BizxhI7tp-oHcWf61wUl5Y0ArtpKYQGWOAr8TzcXdfmbQB_FG7sUz_-rgQmc-_VPQtl4NZbKyoacclTkTZPMuBSCdy1xLhXUTKNdoyQtFKUYHq2kAv8JjyHlRDvibNZ640sMj04g/s2400/Thomas%20Merton%20Contemplation.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="2400" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWxI50X_2U-p9vFMa7_tbApjS3x9QuMjEHHieT1Kwu6i0kj_BizxhI7tp-oHcWf61wUl5Y0ArtpKYQGWOAr8TzcXdfmbQB_FG7sUz_-rgQmc-_VPQtl4NZbKyoacclTkTZPMuBSCdy1xLhXUTKNdoyQtFKUYHq2kAv8JjyHlRDvibNZ640sMj04g/w215-h215/Thomas%20Merton%20Contemplation.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>She said in measured tones, “Will wants to remind you that theological contemplations hardly lend themselves to concrete actions.”<p></p>
<p>“I do the pondering. Rhys acts.” Lider was practically spitting, and Rhys had to press a closed hand to his thigh to stop himself from trying to clasp and massage the back of Lider’s neck.</p>
<p>Rhys said, “Are you acting on behalf of the Cubi Council, Francesca, or on your own?”</p>
<p>“I thought it necessary that you have the information. Especially now. Will concurs.”</p>
<p>Rhys allowed himself a grin and wished he could nudge Lider. Will might be a Cubi Master. Francesca was a force of nature.</p>
<p>Lider said, “Do you have official Cubi authorization to tell us?”</p>
<p>“Yes. The assassination attempt is causing a number of ripples here, especially since Queen Artia sent her invitation to Panfilo.”</p>
<p>Queen Artia was an Anthros leader. The request was transmitted electronically to the station but Massey in station control printed out the attachment and applied official seals. The station ambassador attached to the General Diplomatic Corps would usually have done so, but he was currently on Earth. <br /></p>
<p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEzl5R_4kONjUG3aJkr92ppb9K-TvTh5cNUYdL4Adebwzp1dHoPPv8g2mSVR7D7d5GXAROA7MBUr5aPGLGC6idEZDyngZ2kXDTlnHD3M5qh3kxwtf9JYRizrjJiAwK4Wmv_irY0PKqJlnN0nz9OR3o8KWNkRHnS6EChX1x-IQFhlBiM-k8yfQD-Q/s640/French%20Invitation.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="423" data-original-width="640" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEzl5R_4kONjUG3aJkr92ppb9K-TvTh5cNUYdL4Adebwzp1dHoPPv8g2mSVR7D7d5GXAROA7MBUr5aPGLGC6idEZDyngZ2kXDTlnHD3M5qh3kxwtf9JYRizrjJiAwK4Wmv_irY0PKqJlnN0nz9OR3o8KWNkRHnS6EChX1x-IQFhlBiM-k8yfQD-Q/w207-h137/French%20Invitation.jpg" width="207" /></a></i></div><i>Queen Artia of Confederated kin groups in Reforested Greenland requests the presence of Panfilo of the Alands and the Tates within the protection of Raine and Ruella, also of the Confederation, to honor us with his physical presence at her court within two lunar years. </i><p></p>
<p>The transmission was leaked to the forums the same day.</p>
<p>Francesca said, “Cubi mainly focus on human politics. But Anthros’s politics—Anthros’s beliefs—concern them. Cubi leaders have delivered a statement in favor of Queen Artia’s actions.”</p>
<p>Rhys said, “Does Panfilo need Queen Artia’s protection?”</p>
<p>Lider broke in: “The truth, Will.”</p>
<p>Francesca said, “Honestly, Lider, we don’t know. But issues about Anthros’s place on Earth may be coming to a head, for our generation anyway.”</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-375217921381452192023-12-22T08:00:00.005-05:002023-12-22T12:02:46.195-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 5, Part I<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKSg_-UswRsaPkoxFLX0cIuEg_FKK8TJrA0jNJc5zExMVIm5c0tDfbSFQnOwYRQGmu7wkdi_9xMuoD4XUeH6myHDmFJaqO9-PWG0oM5qwtSrhzFb07xn09x7uIIVKSHNlIdvT8y_2rWruYEudIWXhhnAMS89gjT9dk1nzASlUSdj_G7uWRL6LRSQ/s1037/Station%20Master%20Possibility.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1037" data-original-width="729" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKSg_-UswRsaPkoxFLX0cIuEg_FKK8TJrA0jNJc5zExMVIm5c0tDfbSFQnOwYRQGmu7wkdi_9xMuoD4XUeH6myHDmFJaqO9-PWG0oM5qwtSrhzFb07xn09x7uIIVKSHNlIdvT8y_2rWruYEudIWXhhnAMS89gjT9dk1nzASlUSdj_G7uWRL6LRSQ/s320/Station%20Master%20Possibility.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>Rhys was heading into the chapel to prepare for communion when a messenger from station control stopped him at the door.<p></p>
<p>“Priority call from Earth,” the messenger said.</p>
<p>So many electronic messages floated between the station and incoming ships, the station and the planet, the station and various necessary services, private communications relied on hand-to-hand contact. Rhys accepted the plastic sheet and peered at it as the messenger sauntered off, likely to stop in the café now that the message was delivered as ordered.</p>
<p>Lider said, “About the case?”</p>
<p>Rhys tried not to start and did anyway. Odd how Lider surprised him more now than when Lider had been a voice, no more. Back then, Rhys always assumed that Lider was near him. Now that he could make out the ghostly shape of Lider, he was surprised when Lider—like any human—approached Rhys from behind.</p>
<p>Luckily, Lider chuckled, though the strain was there.</p>
<p>“Francesca,” Rhys said, holding up the sheet. “Why would Francesca be calling us?”</p>
<p>“Let’s hope another religious conference isn’t in the offing,” Lider said.</p>
<p>Lider accompanied Rhys to station control. As they stepped out of the lift, the station master nodded, his eyes pausing on Lider. </p>
<p>“He’s younger than you, huh?” he’d said the first time he saw Lider’s sometimes opaque, sometimes translucent form.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNBJ51QbEAJCO91wBAELQb-fH9TKeVK8hTOAiu01y7I6l82TE6WIgkN7OVifcQD4AzwrpfvYwYt63liWnd4ESJFmlxSFA8R8dAIXLkU5AU7KH0kLuO3j9rTqVWbFf90YtEVDAitwNgUWsLXpvQL50TB_tz0jZ_CTJ2If_6swQfRRBV9tGjRLgpgg/s250/Akihito%20Lider%20Chapter%201.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="250" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNBJ51QbEAJCO91wBAELQb-fH9TKeVK8hTOAiu01y7I6l82TE6WIgkN7OVifcQD4AzwrpfvYwYt63liWnd4ESJFmlxSFA8R8dAIXLkU5AU7KH0kLuO3j9rTqVWbFf90YtEVDAitwNgUWsLXpvQL50TB_tz0jZ_CTJ2If_6swQfRRBV9tGjRLgpgg/w162-h159/Akihito%20Lider%20Chapter%201.webp" width="162" /></a></div>Rhys had laughed in surprise. Lider had been his companion and lover for nearly ten years now. In the beginning, he appeared as a young man in his early twenties. He’d aged himself, but Cubi aging never quite resembled mortal corporeal aging with the latter’s hunches and wrinkles and spots. But Lider took the demands of corporeality seriously. He looked near thirty now, so the age gap in appearance was still about the same.
<p>Not in reality, of course. In reality, Lider’s sentience traced back several hundred years before regular space travel, before Earth nations turned back into kingdoms and city-states. Lider wanted corporeality. He also wanted to know what he was signing up for, to fully understand the human condition. Lately, he had admitted to being present at a dig in the 1970s when thefts occurred.</p>
<p>“Think Francesca has more questions about archaeological misappropriations?” Lider said acerbically when he and Rhys entered the communications alcove. “Maybe Earth Cubi decided on some retroactive punishments. The human is dead but I’m still around to rebuke.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FL3jnIddKpnWyfCFk1FNuzXc7mx8QvD7uaKEFgVtdjYvl32vFasuqkgNmqy5YdEs-UrDSQHAZ-EWQPUgdohVjMGP4sNnsIF-UcNsU-Y2CvFfQLOK8Rcu8hRoAwdmzINwhX9GrK0AqoOA7xnSI9QReQtrLgPRFuHlPG3eNosFHKzwyDWoKY9IGw/s1000/Bridge%20Starship.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="826" data-original-width="1000" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FL3jnIddKpnWyfCFk1FNuzXc7mx8QvD7uaKEFgVtdjYvl32vFasuqkgNmqy5YdEs-UrDSQHAZ-EWQPUgdohVjMGP4sNnsIF-UcNsU-Y2CvFfQLOK8Rcu8hRoAwdmzINwhX9GrK0AqoOA7xnSI9QReQtrLgPRFuHlPG3eNosFHKzwyDWoKY9IGw/w189-h156/Bridge%20Starship.jpg" width="189" /></a></div>The pessimistic streak in Lider was new. Rhys restrained an impulse to hug his shoulders or kiss the side of his head or any of the hundred gestures he used with Lider in their dreams when he would still touch Lider.<p></p>
<p>He said, “Weren’t you given amnesty when you became a canon? For any behavior previous to your arrival on the station?”</p>
<p>Lider gave him a half-smile. Rhys clicked on the video and sound feed and waited the few seconds while Francesca’s face floated into focus. He adjusted the sound and motioned to Lider to step closer. Francesca wouldn’t be able to see Lider—Cubi and human technology were not entirely compatible—but she would be able to hear him.</p>
<p>“Hullo? Monseigneur? Canon Lider?”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-lRCPNaXFGkw2KLabDjN4DKrpWfLOTxkvT0ajYSmdlo_FXVSXlw28vxbyZ5lu0Z_ZJcE_t6PbBQeKtpAjsAQnKpdfGiesS4CmYWGEYMBBKTn2roN7wFo6uHjMb40fgy2SDqAoT56CDD5pUiME4QN4cht2aI9QHRYgO_epO5xJ8sD14jdQtuKJDw/s473/Francesca%20P.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="142" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-lRCPNaXFGkw2KLabDjN4DKrpWfLOTxkvT0ajYSmdlo_FXVSXlw28vxbyZ5lu0Z_ZJcE_t6PbBQeKtpAjsAQnKpdfGiesS4CmYWGEYMBBKTn2roN7wFo6uHjMb40fgy2SDqAoT56CDD5pUiME4QN4cht2aI9QHRYgO_epO5xJ8sD14jdQtuKJDw/s320/Francesca%20P.jpg" width="96" /></a></div>“We’re here,” Rhys said and then grimaced since he tried not to answer for Lider, now that Lider could be heard by others.<p></p>
<p>Lider gave him a real smile this time, wide mouth splitting so one side went up. “Hullo, Francesca.”</p>
<p>She looked as smooth and unruffled as ever, sleek dark hair groomed into a careful bob. She didn’t pause for pleasantries, however. Her position required some level of diplomacy and usually she asked pre-selected (Rhys suspected) questions about her subject's activities and health.</p>
<p>Today, she said with unruffled directness, “Is it true that Panfilo, the young Anthros man, was attacked by another Anthros?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Lider said and gave Rhys one of his quizzical looks: raised-brows-with-a-slight-frown.</p>
<p>Francesca was head of a Congregation that investigated potential sainthoods. Assassination attempts did not fall within her purview.</p>
<p>She said, “Will has given me information about Panfilo.”</p>
<p>Will, Arysllwr, was Francesca’s Cubus.</p>
<p>“Will?” Lider said sharply. “What does Will have to do with Panfilo?”</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-39265834423584657062023-12-15T08:00:00.010-05:002023-12-15T08:41:45.305-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 4, Part II<div class="separator"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM85NNIo_e4maYzK1NhesWMmx1yqmFWmusO1RMb2Jcv6CAqpwTmAglRRIxASyr9DLiKyLCBQC0jy-o_GTcoRlKNm-b6FUmmrxJRfKEBDewYoK2SNyBDFsCoV8dEvuIQ5YnuFCg1FijpKEr2erPXtV_pnWpgvvmp1U5zSQLx6q9sFcuetbVjveZ5Q/s1280/Polar%20Bear.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM85NNIo_e4maYzK1NhesWMmx1yqmFWmusO1RMb2Jcv6CAqpwTmAglRRIxASyr9DLiKyLCBQC0jy-o_GTcoRlKNm-b6FUmmrxJRfKEBDewYoK2SNyBDFsCoV8dEvuIQ5YnuFCg1FijpKEr2erPXtV_pnWpgvvmp1U5zSQLx6q9sFcuetbVjveZ5Q/s320/Polar%20Bear.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p>Pan was fairly passive or centered or calm or naturally composed—whatever people liked to believe about Anthros—but he needed to mull before he made up his mind about something important, like whether he should return to Earth.<p></p>
<p>In truth, Pan suspected that his natural calm was not the same as Sandy’s. Sandy had the white pelt of a polar bear and resembled posters of polar bears at rest. Sandy also had an equable temper. Sandy was honestly devoted to God, like Lider, and honestly loving, unlike Lider who "worked at being good" (his words).</p>
<p>Pan didn’t consider himself good or bad. He suspected he wasn’t particularly loving or patient or tolerant. He missed his foster mother, Samantha, but he’d not felt the degree of deprivation at her death many Mars’ citizens insisted he feel.</p>
<p>Anthros and reformers would say that he never truly bonded with his human parents, but Pan hadn’t bonded with his Anthros’s foster parents either. Deep-woods Anthros, Raine and Ruella had disliked the station and hated Mars. They only came in the first place because they believed Pan needed a kin group. They left within six months. Allec and Quin became his legal guardians.</p>
<p>Allec and Quin, at least, made sense to Pan. Allec was a straight talker, and Quin was good at taking whatever came next. Pan could invest in them. He wanted Allec to live longer, to undergo the newest life-extension procedure, which he could only do on Earth.</p>
<p>He said to Quin, “<i>You’re</i> going to go back to Earth. Not just for the procedure. Digory is going back.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotXetCQtWphGs2QqM62gDnQsPKGuc9XkngEwvW5MC60BwH1vmDR6gQCv-md3Px2wWbLVUS1kZKA5d8VNqvOWpkaXTf8si4W4l3YP3LzuggN7t-sln2LccF4jaHg2LB95d0mB8NxkpL8CCu6HwQe-2iQhxRw0oi_cgQXFX1dcwDsxGMifHhGmkCA/s499/Digory%20Sutherland.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="499" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotXetCQtWphGs2QqM62gDnQsPKGuc9XkngEwvW5MC60BwH1vmDR6gQCv-md3Px2wWbLVUS1kZKA5d8VNqvOWpkaXTf8si4W4l3YP3LzuggN7t-sln2LccF4jaHg2LB95d0mB8NxkpL8CCu6HwQe-2iQhxRw0oi_cgQXFX1dcwDsxGMifHhGmkCA/w165-h136/Digory%20Sutherland.jpg" width="165" /></a></div>Digory was Allec’s mentor, another food buff, and one of the oldest citizens on Mars. He had family back on Earth, and he wanted to visited them one last time before he died and was buried on Mars. Digory was another being who made sense to Pan. <br /><p></p>
<p>“I told Digory I would accompany him,” Allec said.</p>
<p>Quin jerked his head in the affirmative. He didn’t like to talk about Allec’s short life or Allec’s need for another procedure or the fact that nobody knew for certain how much more time Allec would get. Usually, Pan spoke to Allec directly about these things. But now—</p>
<p>“I think I should go,” Pan said.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYy7v58-eX6p8gAr1infqQjRFK_Jt6xlWZ0qoTkrBtrspP9f5WW9gOIqTgpO0pmdJH4D7rmutWQ_2lFxOIrgt_DvgntiCBzVWlO2TDpAA_gFUDS-BVH4NWhVhcwAWOJGxHbtXsnUetYt_8XzIeSuB9z1uEDXvPkBkW4z_ham5OoU-y2QsI1IGLfw/s1600/Alaska%20Hometown.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYy7v58-eX6p8gAr1infqQjRFK_Jt6xlWZ0qoTkrBtrspP9f5WW9gOIqTgpO0pmdJH4D7rmutWQ_2lFxOIrgt_DvgntiCBzVWlO2TDpAA_gFUDS-BVH4NWhVhcwAWOJGxHbtXsnUetYt_8XzIeSuB9z1uEDXvPkBkW4z_ham5OoU-y2QsI1IGLfw/w241-h161/Alaska%20Hometown.jpg" width="241" /></a></div>When he was first discovered on Mars, people asked him again and again if he wanted to return to Earth. The Alands had found him on Earth before they left for Mars. He was four at the time. Didn’t he crave forests and streams and such?<p></p>
<p></p><p>Most Anthros, even those on the station, spoke fondly of their hometowns, the natural Earth sites they associated with their early years. Gerry, who headed Demographics, planned to go back to her hometown in Western North America one day.</p><p></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFKyMMDr787VhLFljgaWtCXfGVqWnDMZdjgqzO-WYaBulAvaB5ecFs0fhoW-wkS7OXAxcYuhQ3jgzQEw4-UB5W3YVj0NmbA_pizOZN4jGO8JNe44vCZLKeX2l09qpnnnGcopt5agxGDgIr95Kjlk_8lHNZKEto-JuLk9vBYjJgh0Zh3peWc59PwQ/s1200/Olympus%20Mons%20Mars.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="759" data-original-width="1200" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFKyMMDr787VhLFljgaWtCXfGVqWnDMZdjgqzO-WYaBulAvaB5ecFs0fhoW-wkS7OXAxcYuhQ3jgzQEw4-UB5W3YVj0NmbA_pizOZN4jGO8JNe44vCZLKeX2l09qpnnnGcopt5agxGDgIr95Kjlk_8lHNZKEto-JuLk9vBYjJgh0Zh3peWc59PwQ/w251-h158/Olympus%20Mons%20Mars.png" width="251" /></a><p>Pan’s early years were filled with views of Olympus Mons, dry sand tinged orange and red; piles of rocks that looked like hard, cold Jello; dark chasms for lava tubes. He would have become a Mars’ Floor Explorer if Anthros were allowed to live on Mars and not just visit.</p><p>He <i>wanted</i> to live on Mars. But so many Anthros thought he’d been deprived of the chance to choose. They thought he clung to Mars because he didn’t know better. Raine and Ruella had been convinced that Pan was fundamentally damaged; when he spoke fondly of Mars, he was echoing false ideas. They pressured him to join them on their return.</p>
<p>Maybe they were right. Maybe Pan was too far outside <i>any</i> normal social behavior to know how unusual, how warped he was.</p>
<p>Quin said, “You can do whatever you want Pan, go wherever you want. There’s no wrong answer. Trust yourself.”</p>
<p>Allec didn’t speak. Folded in Quin’s arms, he smiled to himself, then raised his eyes and winked at Pan. If Pan told Allec what he was thinking, Allec would know that Pan wasn’t depressed or lacking in self-esteem or whatever. He didn’t hate himself. Being warped might simply be what Pan <i>was</i>.</p>
<p>But Quin had the capacity for total acceptance when it came to those he loved, which is why they loved him back.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpGf65hLAJ9gWz9lbAo09bYpgF58KEJ-MKug6CPKTltyInRrU0ca9TyexVIxMQSk_6yrap0lU7_H7lHw_OgS8dVvof98k1CYPqamt27ALuP9COoXn8_OMaMe2VLt1fdwY9pY-3eXf4tnEbKxJtqmMHB9IGl9BP95h_TGfB9Y-C8BDw8yQv6msTg/s605/Cat%20and%20Dog%20Sleeping%20Together.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="403" data-original-width="605" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpGf65hLAJ9gWz9lbAo09bYpgF58KEJ-MKug6CPKTltyInRrU0ca9TyexVIxMQSk_6yrap0lU7_H7lHw_OgS8dVvof98k1CYPqamt27ALuP9COoXn8_OMaMe2VLt1fdwY9pY-3eXf4tnEbKxJtqmMHB9IGl9BP95h_TGfB9Y-C8BDw8yQv6msTg/w236-h157/Cat%20and%20Dog%20Sleeping%20Together.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>Sandy returned to the apartment shortly after Allec and Quin departed and immediately nested beside Panfilo on the large futon. Panfilo set his head on Sandy’s chest, legs splayed at cross angles.<p></p>
<p>Easy physical contact was one thing Panfilo preferred about Anthros. Anthros could have their forests and oxygenated air and tales of derring-do. Still, Pan liked the platonic or asexual or whatever-it-was easy physical contact.</p>
<p>He said, “I should go back, shouldn’t I? To Earth.”</p>
<p>“We want you safe,” Sandy said.</p>
<p>“I’m more of a target on the station.”</p>
<p>“More potential assassins on Earth.”</p>
<p>Not precisely comforting but Sandy made the comment judiciously.</p>
<p>“Do you think I should go?”</p>
<p>“Queen Artia will be sending you an official invitation.”</p>
<p>“The assassin comes from her confederation.”</p>
<p>“She’s disavowed his actions. Queen Artia is an important personage for—”</p>
<p>Sandy paused, which hesitation—since it was Sandy—came across as contemplative rather than wishy washy.</p>
<p>“For Anthros,” Panfilo said. “If I really am one.”</p>
<p>“I’ve never liked labeling insiders and outsiders,” Sandy said mildly. “Sentient beings should know better.”</p><br />Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-64101846762398236812023-12-08T08:00:00.005-05:002023-12-08T08:11:21.177-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 4, Part I<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGUl007DEtCa3O074mfBOH13oWR18Dg46fWCD7rEnsLsD2axO140FCDWmOnqK4NE1F1sapUOcOzoa43yfya42ATy6HHm0jfby9qB6wdI8KcS3SLLzK89qKPQxNqeEZ89szPyrEbGPfWaucbTKNJWkQ65MBvIa_GP5aY3PwPPCPPv22dNsXzN6zg/s1001/Futon%20Cave%20Cats.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="1001" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGUl007DEtCa3O074mfBOH13oWR18Dg46fWCD7rEnsLsD2axO140FCDWmOnqK4NE1F1sapUOcOzoa43yfya42ATy6HHm0jfby9qB6wdI8KcS3SLLzK89qKPQxNqeEZ89szPyrEbGPfWaucbTKNJWkQ65MBvIa_GP5aY3PwPPCPPv22dNsXzN6zg/w202-h202/Futon%20Cave%20Cats.webp" width="202" /></a></div>Panfilo sat in Father Malcolm's quarters, curled in the cave-like pile of blankets and a supersize futon that Sandy had arranged under the skylight while Father Malcolm was away.<p></p>
<p>Panfilo liked to think of himself as a “Martian” rather than “Anthros,” however human reformers and noisier Anthros wanted him to see himself. Didn’t Sandy live part-time on Mars? Didn’t Gerry in Demographics live on the station? Anthros <i>could</i> live in space.</p>
<p>Still, Pan had to admit, he felt relaxed in Sandy’s set-up.</p>
<p><i>Hey, everybody finds way to balance the different sides of their lives.</i></p>
<p>Allec settled beside him and stared up through the skylight, hands folded over his chest.</p>
<p>He said, “Are you really so different from other Anthros?”</p>
<p>Quin would chide Allec for tactlessness. But Allec, even if he looked in his late twenties, arrived in the universe as an adult clone about five years ago. Nurture-wise, Allec hadn't been sat on for years for speaking his mind. And Quin's rebukes were never serious. </p><p>Of course, Allec might be as blunt if he had been born as a baby.</p>
<p>Panfilo didn’t mind Allec’s questions. He said, “I guess. I’ve looked up pictures. Most Anthros look human with animal bits, sort of like that Xavier chap.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXNSfPkHPNjeVp-IpNBPI5TUCCtseonwwYDiCTjH7uAOvvm5LOa60CvMl8YCJSslyWOb4Xofaj-KWKvjpHa15Ap5v63AUtxuXzhwki9kMJwrku3R3TEkJR0MjcuXQLrffd_8inUMGWNZKFFVdeBsAzZ2MNu-NbFf7n5zQOsORX3jE6cB5up8ko5A/s250/Cat%20Long%20Tail%20Rings.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="201" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXNSfPkHPNjeVp-IpNBPI5TUCCtseonwwYDiCTjH7uAOvvm5LOa60CvMl8YCJSslyWOb4Xofaj-KWKvjpHa15Ap5v63AUtxuXzhwki9kMJwrku3R3TEkJR0MjcuXQLrffd_8inUMGWNZKFFVdeBsAzZ2MNu-NbFf7n5zQOsORX3jE6cB5up8ko5A/s1600/Cat%20Long%20Tail%20Rings.jpg" width="201" /></a></div>“The one who is a Cubus. Stan can’t decide whether Xavier is fiercely liberated or mindlessly subjugated. Lider thinks he is inconsiderate.”<p></p>
<p>“What do you think?”</p>
<p>“I think he can do whatever he wants. He’s cat-like, right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. And I’m supposedly wolf-like but I’ve got a cat’s tail, only longer than usual. And there are other things—the rings on my tails and the gold tips on my forehead. Stuff like that. I’ve been told I have deer eyes since they can actually slide sideways—lots of peripheral vision—but they are the wrong color, I guess.”</p>
<p>“<i>Wrong </i>according to people who want everything in boxes. But you feel like flotsam and jetsam, huh?”</p>
<p>“You’ve been hanging out with Siphons,” Pan said.</p>
<p>Allec’s nautical analogies always increased after he spent time with the mer-like people who had legs on land and tails in the ocean.</p>
<p>Allec grinned but he shifted to look at Pan squarely.</p>
<p>“If it is so important for Anthros to look like particular animals, why do they insist they didn’t originate on Earth?”</p>
<p>“I think the idea is that all planets everywhere are occupied by similar beings, only on the original Anthros planet, the animal beings were the ruling sentient ones. Anthros showed up to save their maligned cousins on Earth. Not all Anthros believe that, you know.”</p>
<p>“Gerry thinks its codswallop.”</p>
<p>Allec liked to experiment with human slang. Pan shrugged.</p>
<p>“What about you?” Allec said. “What do you believe?”</p>
<p>“When are you and Quin going back to Earth?”</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJIGanUzhohMyXK7CQUYa6Y0ER6iVy6kg7qdKoa6Wg-PufNzN391ueFWwVr21mxylUipCUtNryQljocI9y-90UOThCDZmNGnvp5b3LTOIJYVv3gVWD4JgYBGjo9pc1R3ixt4A_S0ynFVWLNKhCNTLyOC4O8L4WoU3GSMBdBwDnae5r3ApXpHIiQ/s620/Nathan%20Fillion%20Quin%202.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="620" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJIGanUzhohMyXK7CQUYa6Y0ER6iVy6kg7qdKoa6Wg-PufNzN391ueFWwVr21mxylUipCUtNryQljocI9y-90UOThCDZmNGnvp5b3LTOIJYVv3gVWD4JgYBGjo9pc1R3ixt4A_S0ynFVWLNKhCNTLyOC4O8L4WoU3GSMBdBwDnae5r3ApXpHIiQ/w221-h131/Nathan%20Fillion%20Quin%202.webp" width="221" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quin</td></tr></tbody></table>Allec’s mouth twisted. He glanced past Pan and said, “Did Panfilo learn to answer questions with questions from you?”<p></p>
<p>Quin had entered the apartment. He slung his backpack onto the standard couch and glanced around the two linked rooms. “Where’s Sandy?”</p>
<p>“Holding a mid-week Mass with Father Hadaka. Father Hadaka left Rhys to attend the Council Meeting.”</p>
<p>Quin nodded. “I stopped by. Rhys and Lider are holding forth on why people shouldn’t jump to conclusions until the investigation is finished. Damn news reports.”</p>
<p>“Political wrangles are the waters Rhys swims in,” Allec said and cocked a brow at Panfilo, who snorted.</p>
<p>“Shouldn’t you use <i>religious</i> analogies when talking about Rhys?”</p>
<p>Before Allec could start spouting off about the symbolism of the holy spirit, Quin said, “I gave the Council an update. I said you were okay.” There was the faintest query in Quin’s voice. He sat beside the futon and studied Panfilo.</p>
<p>“I am,” Pan said.</p>
<p>Quin added, “Lider mentioned something about banning Anthros newcomers. Rhys was surprised. Lider pointed out that Cubi already submit to Detection machines. Why draw the line and pretend the station <i>isn’t</i> a paternalistic demarchy?”</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSgrguDGb5h2YrOPjWrk-EbQraIUDwcJiNftQaf59mYQrKTiGO2CAujk_t7QRX2j4_JBHZsFut1K7A9fSWL82NqBj9d8oST8yhgzwOUN1bYdQMPJTtmDpHEyJ7pd-00LhqKc5huz6dh9Bun6JYgJOD9WkaFZEoqfl04xH0ue97-JGM2BDlymFfXw/s250/Allec.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="243" data-original-width="250" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSgrguDGb5h2YrOPjWrk-EbQraIUDwcJiNftQaf59mYQrKTiGO2CAujk_t7QRX2j4_JBHZsFut1K7A9fSWL82NqBj9d8oST8yhgzwOUN1bYdQMPJTtmDpHEyJ7pd-00LhqKc5huz6dh9Bun6JYgJOD9WkaFZEoqfl04xH0ue97-JGM2BDlymFfXw/w149-h145/Allec.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Allec</td></tr></tbody></table>“Lider is getting downright snarky.”<p></p>
<p>“Yes, well.” Quinn reached over and pulled Allec partly out of the “cave” so he sprawled across Quin’s lap. “Touch is a hard thing to give up, even temporarily.”</p>
<p>Allec relaxed in the jellyfish way he had and quieted, which Pan suspected was partly Quin’s objective. Allec in questioning mood was a lot to take. Pan was fairly passive or centered or calm or naturally composed—whatever people liked to believe about Anthros—but <i>he</i> needed to mull before he made up his mind on important issues, like whether he should return to Earth.</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-85173980445221711642023-12-01T08:00:00.002-05:002023-12-01T10:56:59.650-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 3, Part II<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVsjBayblx1zLCMjFR_Ba3unE0eCIa5Hti3fil24LCf6xVWxG1im3EYLZ18m4tgoLhDOxvnFEm1_p1a2gn5SLIfLcfhNPaLWmvSKZF0el1PVbkolxSsFrp2uwxZrUC2_H6eOSDve7ha_kuLj8A1mzVjEpxIAYDXWdvV9pb8GKNn1En9drF6HzFGg/s900/Greenland%201.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="900" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVsjBayblx1zLCMjFR_Ba3unE0eCIa5Hti3fil24LCf6xVWxG1im3EYLZ18m4tgoLhDOxvnFEm1_p1a2gn5SLIfLcfhNPaLWmvSKZF0el1PVbkolxSsFrp2uwxZrUC2_H6eOSDve7ha_kuLj8A1mzVjEpxIAYDXWdvV9pb8GKNn1En9drF6HzFGg/w262-h196/Greenland%201.webp" width="262" /></a></div>Rhys said, “Father Blaire researched the Anthros community in Greenland.” And complained about the job the entire time. “It is a loose confederation of kin groups led by Queen Artia. Overall, the settlement is fairly conservative. Most of the groups protest interspecies marriage. They maintain that Anthros arrived on Earth in the early twentieth century. They object to Anthros serving on ships and living on Mars. However, again, they strenuously deny endorsement of Junad’s actions.”<p></p>
<p>Armand said plaintively. “Why would any Anthros <i>want</i> to hurt Panfilo?” He looked entirely bewildered, and his wife, Tabby, patted his hand.</p>
<p>Lider said, “When aliens came forward on Earth, the question of sentience arose. Did aliens hidden for millennium—as the Siphons now claim—or did aliens not gain the ability to communicate—as Cubi claim—until recently? Recent sentience suggests a lack of full evolution.”</p>
<p>“Yet Cubi accept that explanation.”</p>
<p>“Each Cubi undergoes its own path from non-sentience to corporeality. They aren’t a ‘race” in the genetic or regional sense.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHmFpmvdF9bwxZjEXtG3tStDgqAP30MIbb724tfwr9GHmkdXZsO62wMLOCxC5j0wikpqhdkkoMXFbrn0GzZSkyxbpvy0MpHQ4Ij8K96IBqNX12t4xtrA2EDtqrMMZv3N9XNIsTcNwOwjm6XLn8jyTcUQhpx-J4okoB8X5WwjbjXDm2aGonop4scA/s1500/Bear%20Bridegroom.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1051" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHmFpmvdF9bwxZjEXtG3tStDgqAP30MIbb724tfwr9GHmkdXZsO62wMLOCxC5j0wikpqhdkkoMXFbrn0GzZSkyxbpvy0MpHQ4Ij8K96IBqNX12t4xtrA2EDtqrMMZv3N9XNIsTcNwOwjm6XLn8jyTcUQhpx-J4okoB8X5WwjbjXDm2aGonop4scA/w191-h273/Bear%20Bridegroom.JPG" width="191" /></a></div>Armand said, “What about using <i>Anthros were hiding</i> as an explanation? Plenty of cultures have stories about talking beasts.”<p></p>
<p>“Werewolves,” Einar said reluctantly, and Rhys nodded.</p>
<p>“There’s a stigma,” he said. “Werewolves. Humans punished to take Anthros form.”</p>
<p>Tabby said, “Some Anthros believe their ancestors visited Earth before Anthros arrived to settle there.”</p>
<p>Finley said, “Some Anthros reject the alien argument altogether.”</p>
<p>Armand flung out his hands. “Why not just say, <i>We don’t know—but we are here now. Let’s get along</i>.”</p>
<p>Rhys agreed with Armand. Lider, he knew, agreed. The obvious solution didn’t change the fact that someone tried to assassinate Panfilo.</p>
<p>Finley said, “Armand has a point though. Why <i>Panfilo</i>? As far I can tell, Allec is raising that kid to be practically an iconoclastic agnostic.”</p>
<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GUdi8zVSxX2KygQ3wh7zlxdK3uf0ghC6j5zBqEUHrTNqmYD4fxddKLkVku0fuEjwHtrdezBNNnK5wpLAfodKMzzO1p9JjeIdjlwfC9fXdZHoGb0FidgqfiCF5Y1hFHYQsheCzXonQzUQp2lx8XxqLBnbxP3j3B0zP1Wq7LLUR8piXuuWWFOPaQ/s547/Werewolf%20Rabies.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="412" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GUdi8zVSxX2KygQ3wh7zlxdK3uf0ghC6j5zBqEUHrTNqmYD4fxddKLkVku0fuEjwHtrdezBNNnK5wpLAfodKMzzO1p9JjeIdjlwfC9fXdZHoGb0FidgqfiCF5Y1hFHYQsheCzXonQzUQp2lx8XxqLBnbxP3j3B0zP1Wq7LLUR8piXuuWWFOPaQ/w192-h255/Werewolf%20Rabies.jpg" width="192" /></a>Panfilo had nine years with his adoptive parents, Samantha and Gregory Aland, before Allec took over his care. The parents had hidden Panfilo’s nature until his mother died and he hit adolescence. Gregory Aland wasn’t a bad guy, but he was more interested in working on Mars than in caring for a son he adopted for his wife’s sake.</p>
<p>In any case, Panfilo’s upbringing wasn’t entirely the issue—though some Anthros and their supporters argued that he had been “cruelly separated from his animal context.”</p>
<p>The larger issue must relate to Panfilo’s origins.</p>
<p>Rhys and Lider had decided not to mention Junad’s clone rant. It was a rant, and so far, the forums hadn’t turned up any suggestion that Panfilo was a clone, which brought up the issue of where Junad got that particular oddball tidbit.</p>
<p>The forums were mostly occupied with news about the Cubi-become-Anthros, Xavier. That choice was being condemned alongside condemnations of humans who dressed up like Anthros.</p>
<p>Rhys said, “Panfilo’s origins are in doubt. No Anthros kin group has ever claimed him.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcm8dJ5bkrFFo8IWHyxLs0J38TaXHGZs6RrzOTVY5cTQg1QsqISgoaOxZ7Pf5tO3o2K5w6xoEyPbFjPQbvVObc4CUZbvQ6DJAWOJuTOtt2_Mh7XvzVEHb-3ChMKmqnHZrvNjC2lAilYvqcSXrXai0MnmNtEaXqmNOcQTdnzsxNe9L5ovi2q_WNLQ/s423/Xavier.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="303" data-original-width="423" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcm8dJ5bkrFFo8IWHyxLs0J38TaXHGZs6RrzOTVY5cTQg1QsqISgoaOxZ7Pf5tO3o2K5w6xoEyPbFjPQbvVObc4CUZbvQ6DJAWOJuTOtt2_Mh7XvzVEHb-3ChMKmqnHZrvNjC2lAilYvqcSXrXai0MnmNtEaXqmNOcQTdnzsxNe9L5ovi2q_WNLQ/w233-h166/Xavier.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>Einar said, “Like that Xavier chap,” proving that no news in the known universe stayed in one place.<p></p>
<p>Lider said, “Xavier is a Cubus who adopted Anthros’s characteristics when he became corporeal.” (“And pissed people the hell off,” Lider had told Rhys when he heard about Xavier. “Talk about irresponsible.”)</p>
<p>“Panfilo was a toddler when he arrived here,” Tabby said, and the present Council members muttered unhappily. Many people had objected to Panfilo’s ejection from Mars, removal as a citizen, when his true nature was discovered. But the Siphon issue was currently under review, and most of the Council agreed, “We have to draw the line somewhere.”</p>
<p>“Panfilo was on the news,” Tabby said, referring to the two-year-old controversy. “When he was discovered, and people learned that his foster parents snuck him onto Mars. His image was transmitted.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Rhys said. “And Anthros tell me that he has a somewhat unique appearance—the good tips along his forehead, the gold and purple rings around his tail, his indigo eyes. He stands out.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQkZja-hQFtOKF2gUUDsJdSHINJ1316piSQ1_NnQUUieDFeiaLX40PE9sqe6TFEFEMUCovNhQKywAUY4ufi86ggdrsi1pNDgNo8h2Mc04jBYLzyWU_2zMMhakVicWGb7bXdQxcEXpgCB-sg1xM2OFrHRKlZ4GCDwxFdQrA2QOkXQJ6kIq1N52JQ/s600/Conference%20Room%20Skylight%202.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQkZja-hQFtOKF2gUUDsJdSHINJ1316piSQ1_NnQUUieDFeiaLX40PE9sqe6TFEFEMUCovNhQKywAUY4ufi86ggdrsi1pNDgNo8h2Mc04jBYLzyWU_2zMMhakVicWGb7bXdQxcEXpgCB-sg1xM2OFrHRKlZ4GCDwxFdQrA2QOkXQJ6kIq1N52JQ/w234-h223/Conference%20Room%20Skylight%202.jpg" width="234" /></a></div>Like something manufactured. One of the hares Rhys and Lider set in motion was a request to speak to technicians in the Cloning Lab on the Moon. So far, they hadn’t heard back. Adult cloning operations were shut down over five years ago. Even if Rhys and Lider tracked down a technician, that technician might not have the necessary information.<p></p>
<p>“The investigation is ongoing,” Rhys said, which struck him as a euphemistic way of saying, <i>Actually, we have no idea. </i>But the council members nodded and seemed to relax. They were concerned about Panfilo—of course, they were—but so much inconclusiveness wore on people.</p>
<p>“Siphons, Anthros, humans, Cubi—everybody wants protection against doubt,” Lider said later to Rhys. “They want specific and static stories."</p><p>"Except the stories never agree." </p><p>"People cling to them anyway. Faith is so difficult for sentient beings.”</p><br />Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-45746940757233988922023-11-24T08:00:00.007-05:002023-11-24T09:29:42.641-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 3, Part I<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOR4ZqEOy5JtSmYFBEyPWN43P9zQqJR2NFmQofUbApMTpbUMf4Mrw-cSOC2MSo_vOi9zdxc7yTCmMbMxvRyXOK6zsW8vPBWoix06_wgRKbOioxVIrdsXDLrUT7pSH6UPHAaDsWRLlzETcwd3X4cZxaPc21ZqyTfRQgCTs0kHpPEjgnwu-NGxSy0w/s907/Polar%20Bear%20Mars.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="502" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOR4ZqEOy5JtSmYFBEyPWN43P9zQqJR2NFmQofUbApMTpbUMf4Mrw-cSOC2MSo_vOi9zdxc7yTCmMbMxvRyXOK6zsW8vPBWoix06_wgRKbOioxVIrdsXDLrUT7pSH6UPHAaDsWRLlzETcwd3X4cZxaPc21ZqyTfRQgCTs0kHpPEjgnwu-NGxSy0w/w153-h277/Polar%20Bear%20Mars.jpg" width="153" /></a></b></div><b>“H</b>umans love their stories,” Lider said on the shuttle. “And Cubi argue that <i>they</i> are the inventive ones.”<p></p>
<p>Rhys grinned. He and Lider had spent the previous twenty-four hours delving into forums that promoted a morass of theories about Anthros missions, Anthros origins, Anthros secrecy, Anthros superiority, Anthros aggrievement.</p>
<p>Rhys and Lider knew plenty of Anthros who simply got on with life. Some, at least. A round dozen. Sandy and Gerry, the head of Demographics, for instance. They were as individual in their interests, tastes, and personalities as any two sentient beings.</p>
<p>Which individuality didn’t preclude the impact of culture. The entity that reached out to claim Junad <i>and</i> denounce his actions was a confederation of multiple kin groups led by a single queen.</p>
<p>Rhys said, “Did the impulse come first, then the justification?”</p>
<p>“Junad wanted to kill and searched for an excuse?”</p>
<p>“Perhaps.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEVnbJjfpT3rfsTqT4BHybrfWqnCnatfJuRCjwS_IxSqJY1oZ5fWVN4LrtKXPoINfE6Ht_zbt_ZItAf_c9UFA51z3Dm8ZJdK63ON9fbplDTloGYRpiXgWy54-Kor10MuvsTW6-4F_x3AinQd-Vai_q2nj2FUSt1yhSjDrni8FmW9hAqzjZb7tNKw/s1024/Meerkat%20Mars.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="683" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEVnbJjfpT3rfsTqT4BHybrfWqnCnatfJuRCjwS_IxSqJY1oZ5fWVN4LrtKXPoINfE6Ht_zbt_ZItAf_c9UFA51z3Dm8ZJdK63ON9fbplDTloGYRpiXgWy54-Kor10MuvsTW6-4F_x3AinQd-Vai_q2nj2FUSt1yhSjDrni8FmW9hAqzjZb7tNKw/w157-h236/Meerkat%20Mars.jpg" width="157" /></a></div>“Like I wanted to sleep with you, <i>then</i> decided to become corporeal.”<p></p>
<p>“Or you really wanted to become corporeal and decided to sleep with me.”</p>
<p>Rhys laughed when Lider did. He and Lider sat side by side despite the shuttle being nearly empty except for an Enumerator from Demographics absorbed with her plastic sheets and a snoozing Siphon resident returning to Mars after a week’s work on the station.</p>
<p>Sometimes, Rhys thought touch with Lider was almost a moment, second, minute away, that Lider’s shoulder would firm against his in the next breath.</p>
<p><i>The stories and wishes we tell each other indeed.</i></p>
<p>He and Lider were traveling to the planet to attend the Mars Council and report on the case. They had few facts but they had started a number of hares.</p>
<p>Seated in a conference room within the planet’s main hub, Rhys summarized the assassin’s apparent motives while Lider wandered around the open space behind him. Lider had always wandered, never entirely still. Now, Council members darted surprised glances past Rhys to Lider’s half-visible form.</p>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzAd-nphyphenhyphenaIRCA_qabf_FJtSHQo6RDo9yyZylQ2K9X9GqtMeSJB8EbiOBx7W9cjBOrIsrPyBYaRxSDAc38VKOS3kdFP5QTLTfIqb6sFhTs66V9MZFN-M_nVUvk46e7zyWbwo12D9kl10hRKyUT8BY70mpw-6PucFBzZj6-la_jDdEqoflARwr5A/s1129/Fall%20Through%20the%20Floor.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="663" data-original-width="1129" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzAd-nphyphenhyphenaIRCA_qabf_FJtSHQo6RDo9yyZylQ2K9X9GqtMeSJB8EbiOBx7W9cjBOrIsrPyBYaRxSDAc38VKOS3kdFP5QTLTfIqb6sFhTs66V9MZFN-M_nVUvk46e7zyWbwo12D9kl10hRKyUT8BY70mpw-6PucFBzZj6-la_jDdEqoflARwr5A/s320/Fall%20Through%20the%20Floor.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I explain why Lider doesn't <a href="http://katestories.blogspot.com/2022/04/myths-endure-on-mars-anubis-on-mars.html" target="_blank">in the first book</a>!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>After all, <i>now, </i>humans other than Rhys could see him, and Rhys noted that Lider eventually stopped, folded his arms, and leaned against a wall. “Given” surfaces held Lider. A chair might not.<p></p>
<p>Rhys concluded, “Junad appears, as of now, to have acted alone. There are no other assassins on the station. Nevertheless, Markuu in Security is interviewing all visitors as well as residents. Luckily, the latest conference on the station ended a few months ago, and many speakers and guests are already on their way back to Earth.”</p>
<p>Council members nodded, either in agreement with Rhys’s statement or acceptance of the current approach. Rhys was satisfied with either reaction. The present members included Armand and Tabby Tremblay; the Council lawyer Finley Jessup, and Einar Carlson, carrying his perpetual checklists.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJril0UMHddDJbiVS83mDyKEdzmcaNV2briHeSvF52ZEjroF1TXj2afuymkYtlrFlOKnuUgD0xsHa3tXqVHMDnBw43ZbonzGHFa7DnuDA1u9Z7IiRjlowwJAobXKHV5wfkbr2GwtHt7tRaCahjilSPrfmkxToPxFEchjQyeVAoCFCiP17PHVTTIw/s3839/Mars%20and%20Its%20Moons.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3839" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJril0UMHddDJbiVS83mDyKEdzmcaNV2briHeSvF52ZEjroF1TXj2afuymkYtlrFlOKnuUgD0xsHa3tXqVHMDnBw43ZbonzGHFa7DnuDA1u9Z7IiRjlowwJAobXKHV5wfkbr2GwtHt7tRaCahjilSPrfmkxToPxFEchjQyeVAoCFCiP17PHVTTIw/s320/Mars%20and%20Its%20Moons.png" width="160" /></a></div>Bernard Wallington, PR man, was in video conference with an Earth tourism board, and the Patels were overseeing a mineral cargo export from Phobos, Mars’s larger moon. Father Hadaka was calming citizen concerns along with Sandy Zammit. He had delegated Council duties to Rhys, as he often did (“You’re the one with the political know-how”) even though these days, Rhys never visited Mars without Lider. The citizens were more comfortable with Lider since he became a canon and became more visible. <p></p>
<p>Quin sometimes attended Council meetings. He and Allec took an earlier shuttle to visit Panfilo and deal with depot business. Allec wasn’t a member of the Council. He hated politics and considered meetings an unnecessary intrusion on the already time-consuming business of life. He caused ructions when he did attend. But Quin would likely stop in later, which meant the current Council meeting was composed of the most rational and commensical members.</p><br />Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-9689943203367190752023-11-17T08:00:00.003-05:002023-11-17T08:45:12.741-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 2, Part II<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdru9mShY6nJKvxVzGh9EIar3nqI-4zfV8GowppdgTWey_QTsAVL3Tbn56i0XOTKaUkgEXsh5rsJm5s3TeYXyTyBE-x8kkDCfa_NKkb7sCpZIJ0FkO3n2kgdUFjVXzDsxM0gNfqfdeo3c5X8OuOGYoUJ8UI6Lq3Vc9-CS2n8MmfYuBjr1cqKN59w/s1280/Moon%20City.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="1280" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdru9mShY6nJKvxVzGh9EIar3nqI-4zfV8GowppdgTWey_QTsAVL3Tbn56i0XOTKaUkgEXsh5rsJm5s3TeYXyTyBE-x8kkDCfa_NKkb7sCpZIJ0FkO3n2kgdUFjVXzDsxM0gNfqfdeo3c5X8OuOGYoUJ8UI6Lq3Vc9-CS2n8MmfYuBjr1cqKN59w/s320/Moon%20City.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Junad, the assassin, didn’t stop his rant. “He stays with non-Anthros. He stays with another manufactured thing.”<p></p>
<p>Lider caught Rhys’s quick glance in his direction. So it was Allec<i> as a</i> <i>clone</i> that bothered Junad.</p>
<p>Rhys said, “You think Panfilo is—”</p>
<p>“Made on the Moon. That monument to vice and hedonism.”</p>
<p>“Adult cloning was shut down five years ago.”</p>
<p>“That Anthros-looking boy was made and dumped on Earth before then.”</p>
<p>Panfilo was<i> abandoned.</i> But then fanaticism eschewed the kinder words.</p>
<p>Junad said, “Humans and Siphons belittle Anthros’s morality. They fear it. They want to destroy it.”</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3adocxWHYJsbSVf576Kl4vgHzw-LiWA-MGBV-H9JOuinRztpKmmvzQpeRogB8-06in7zQLrV9WzXbj0lpwT_fFBUoU357PDcppl-wWD4ic-zsBoToPD_kOq1kK25lT93Y8eNuVsJQUjcJJ5JSFBKcQPN7PNjmK1aYUhDJ8JT3gTiQaMApygnog/s250/Akihito%20Profile%20Asami.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="250" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3adocxWHYJsbSVf576Kl4vgHzw-LiWA-MGBV-H9JOuinRztpKmmvzQpeRogB8-06in7zQLrV9WzXbj0lpwT_fFBUoU357PDcppl-wWD4ic-zsBoToPD_kOq1kK25lT93Y8eNuVsJQUjcJJ5JSFBKcQPN7PNjmK1aYUhDJ8JT3gTiQaMApygnog/w163-h163/Akihito%20Profile%20Asami.webp" width="163" /></a></div><p>“Through a <i>boy</i>?”</p>
<p>Rhys's incredulity bled through—not much but enough, Lider saw, to raise the equivalent of Junad’s hackles, who turned his face away.</p>
<p>Rhys’s shoulders slumped. He stood slowly and crossed to Lider. He could see Lider now or at least shades of him. He settled at Lider’s shoulder, as if he could touch him, as if he <i>would</i> touch him the moment he could.</p>
<p>He murmured, “Panfilo was in the news right after he was discovered, before Quin and Allec became his guardians. Junad would have had time to get on the next ship to the station.”</p>
<p>“The ships were packed because of the Species in Space Conference.”</p>
<p>“Maybe he bought a ticket from a passenger. At any price.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzlzyXqFEJsO2TrNuxC5uX42eml5kK4IRgSZQeQubSm7DmLVYt7CTvVYJAWczfvjsDezJMdkV7V7jF4NcD_2neqffU6FjFtk2STHpWR4KyFSS101JMz-eeZqpXYi080ZaSDIiDCTSHUHhgbgcMLsX-kLDYDKjQzgYiMmwNiuA8oIeB9me7CZ0UcQ/s500/Sun%20Earth%20Mars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="140" data-original-width="500" height="90" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzlzyXqFEJsO2TrNuxC5uX42eml5kK4IRgSZQeQubSm7DmLVYt7CTvVYJAWczfvjsDezJMdkV7V7jF4NcD_2neqffU6FjFtk2STHpWR4KyFSS101JMz-eeZqpXYi080ZaSDIiDCTSHUHhgbgcMLsX-kLDYDKjQzgYiMmwNiuA8oIeB9me7CZ0UcQ/s320/Sun%20Earth%20Mars.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>“Celebrity stalking.”<p></p>
<p>“All the way to Mars?”</p>
<p>“Obsessions are like that.”</p>
<p>“Or a dire need,” Rhys said and frowned.</p>
<p>Lider knew Rhys. He was cycling through all the options, like a Rolodex from the historical films Lider liked to watch. <br /></p><p>Lider said, "If I question him now, he'll shut down or lose his wits. Better save me for a dire need."</p><p>"I know," Rhys said, still frowning. <br /></p><p>Another possibility was for Lider to enter Junad's head. Rhys wouldn't ask it, not <i>just</i> because Junad was an Anthros.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2tlqtNIr1b373MrEp6ORZ7aygvkbsN860_L49JssxRIkuj0s70VFHPZHNZiBDf4kLxpR65alT8Zhbrzma_iLIf29WQtYTCjjrTcdzCbeGvm0V3G8b9fyPHsEviCf86ztOTWDZ-VBUvD8JNYFAdtcrkfNuXSxpFFXG5oKatgpqAUySsAqTY4mCw/s1800/Antlers%20on%20Skull.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2tlqtNIr1b373MrEp6ORZ7aygvkbsN860_L49JssxRIkuj0s70VFHPZHNZiBDf4kLxpR65alT8Zhbrzma_iLIf29WQtYTCjjrTcdzCbeGvm0V3G8b9fyPHsEviCf86ztOTWDZ-VBUvD8JNYFAdtcrkfNuXSxpFFXG5oKatgpqAUySsAqTY4mCw/w192-h288/Antlers%20on%20Skull.jpg" width="192" /></a></div>Cubi couldn’t feed off Anthros due to a fundamental incompatibility in brain chemistry. Years before he was tagged, Lider would dive in the occasional head of a bear or cat or elk-type Anthros. The images were haphazard, swarming. Closer to real memories than the stories that humans so carefully constructed inside and around themselves, the stories Cubi relied on.<p></p>
<p>Diving into Junad’s head might produce a useful image but there was no guarantee and the investigation here needed to stand up to future scrutiny. Rhys had recorded his interview.</p>
<p>Rhys had another reason. Lider’s set-back a few years earlier had frightened him badly.</p>
<p>Lider had performed what the church decided to call an exorcism—and the church had given Lider the title of Canon for that action. Yet for over a month, Rhys couldn’t hear Lider, not even in dreams. A bad time. For both of them.</p>
<p>“Junad’s behavior does seem out of proportion,” Lider said. "A review of popular conspiracy theories might reveal a connection."</p><p>"As random and self-serving as memories," Rhys muttered, which proved he had been thinking of Lider entering Junad's mind. </p><p>“We are sensible men, you and I,” Lider said and grinned. <br /></p>
<p>Rhys caught that expression despite Lider's shadowy form and also grinned while across the infirmary, Junad kept his face turned to the great transparent wall that showed space in its glory—as if he could pretend that neither Rhys and Lider and a host of other sentient beings existed.</p>
<p>Maybe, in his mind, such pretense was possible.<br /></p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-43924314442500345482023-11-10T08:00:00.004-05:002023-11-10T11:57:40.621-05:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 2, Part I<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDzX-OUrE6N-w-WNLYo_DjFb-FJXDtA5beXMb1qaL7vLCoD0gzaMUebwL8SPPtyH1RoaHyNmJQW2IfyBTNuE8mU2ijcyKohQWRAgS7ZvHj0vCwRonHjRUVEIWAPK3bXoJOyHfVxIx9yzNW21nhlIvyCvxlcptgwsX141lNEEDLhYEQoxig9WDCMw/s532/Jackrabbits.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="520" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDzX-OUrE6N-w-WNLYo_DjFb-FJXDtA5beXMb1qaL7vLCoD0gzaMUebwL8SPPtyH1RoaHyNmJQW2IfyBTNuE8mU2ijcyKohQWRAgS7ZvHj0vCwRonHjRUVEIWAPK3bXoJOyHfVxIx9yzNW21nhlIvyCvxlcptgwsX141lNEEDLhYEQoxig9WDCMw/w212-h217/Jackrabbits.jpg" width="212" /></a></b></div><b>L</b>ider lurked while Rhys interviewed the assassin. The assassin’s eyes darted past Rhys’s seated form—in full priestly regalia—again and again. Anthros, even more than humans, disliked Cubi. Humans could at least sense them and the relationship had a give-and-take element since humans fed invisible Cubi and Cubi spoke to humans. Anthros—many Anthros—considered Cubi grotesque, worse than devils. Sub-sentient.<p></p>
<p>Hence, Lider’s silent presence. Human, Siphons, and Anthros could hear him now. But he left the job of confrontation to Rhys. Scare the assassin, by all means, but refrain from mental torture, especially when Lider felt tempted.</p>
<p>“Name?” Rhys said. “You came to the station as Junad from a North American kin group. Is that information accurate?”</p>
<p>Junad, still strapped to his cot, still supine, glared. Rhys and Lider didn’t expect him to give up any family information. Whether he acted under orders or on his own, Junad was unlikely to expose his kin.</p>
<p>“You’ve been here eight months. Why did you attack Panfilo <i>now</i>?”</p>
<p>Lider and Rhys had agreed not to start the questioning with motive. Why listen to a rant when they would collect damning evidence instead?</p>
<p>“I visited that restaurant, the one with the unnatural chef.”</p>
<p>Allec. And Junad likely meant “unnatural” due to Allec being an adult clone, produced on the Moon. Of course, Allec was married to another man, and any passionate believer could enumerate dozens of violations of “naturalness.” Anthros didn’t care much for baby clones either. Or Cubi. Or space. Or marriages between species.</p>
<p>They gave grudging respect to Siphons but deplored their commercial interests.</p>
<p>Junad said, “The boy is a made thing, a constructed object. Not a real Anthros. Like that pretend thing who researches Saints.”</p>
<p>And there was the rant.</p>
<p><i></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2hUB1KSUVH73HdnGYdOue295Rxcb1ZV8jcmYZJOPQRig3UBGa8K4znMRuusj__5uM_U4wVmMlxDSqRUPEgHHXCxBzlNOpTHNJCMogmOVOym1dh8V1WHy66T6m9kU8cwfHL0iKO4nbOUuaj7YEweMRWTR_9fAkWVvbUAQ5gBTwCAN5l0sYru0lQ/s409/Xavier%201.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="409" data-original-width="362" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2hUB1KSUVH73HdnGYdOue295Rxcb1ZV8jcmYZJOPQRig3UBGa8K4znMRuusj__5uM_U4wVmMlxDSqRUPEgHHXCxBzlNOpTHNJCMogmOVOym1dh8V1WHy66T6m9kU8cwfHL0iKO4nbOUuaj7YEweMRWTR_9fAkWVvbUAQ5gBTwCAN5l0sYru0lQ/w211-h238/Xavier%201.jpg" width="211" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Xavier</td></tr></tbody></table><i>The pretend thing that researches Saints </i>referred to a Cubus-become-Anthros, Xavier, who recently joined Francesca Paraclete's Congregation. He was registered—his tagged human was Phillipe, of all people. The news wasn't exactly common knowledge—not <i>political </i>common knowledge—and most people didn't know, as Rhys and Lider did, that Xavier inserted himself into the Congregation without permission, which crossing-the-line behavior was quietly ruffling a great many feathers in a great many places.<p></p>
<p>Xavier’s deliberate decision to look like an Anthros rather than a human—“A human with Anthros additions,” Frankie explained over a teleconference from Earth—was upsetting enough without bringing in the clandestine element. Anthros, zealous Anthros, were great believers in purity.</p>
<p>Did they object to Panfilo being unintentionally “kidnapped” as a toddler and brought to Mars? Mars’ environment made it a literal hell for many Anthros. Did they object to Panfilo being raised by a human couple? Did they object to Panfilo being removed from the hellish planet to a stark, gray, metal station?</p>
<p>Perhaps. But even the most radical Anthros usually gave children a pass. It was part of the “innocent animal” belief system.</p>
<p>Unless they believed Panfilo, like Xavier, had originally been a Cubus, though that seemed unlikely.</p>
<p>Or did they believe Panfilo was the product of genetic engineering?</p>
<p>Rhys said, “No kin group has stepped forward to claim Panfilo.”</p>
<p>Junad jerked his head in agreement. “No kin group. No family name. No origins. Not forest for his eventual return. He doesn't belong anywhere.”</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjotcQFKyn2R4LICEhFFQwhhYdfPQxJoe71y1yWKscGnEpf7WLtwdCWg3hcg5b3YHLNAl1CqqL4CcOj5NKT4wnHae_rE0I5Vzy2fJNuI_2dvVsPIpyl0O09NR6an59AM2gVuY1ijbaFoGhncobQ_Hvqr6FwJh6ancuX14mj5hYurVREY9nWEmKofQ/s1600/Illuminati%20Cartoon.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjotcQFKyn2R4LICEhFFQwhhYdfPQxJoe71y1yWKscGnEpf7WLtwdCWg3hcg5b3YHLNAl1CqqL4CcOj5NKT4wnHae_rE0I5Vzy2fJNuI_2dvVsPIpyl0O09NR6an59AM2gVuY1ijbaFoGhncobQ_Hvqr6FwJh6ancuX14mj5hYurVREY9nWEmKofQ/w240-h180/Illuminati%20Cartoon.webp" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Conspiracy irrationality<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>A strange argument, one would think, for a species that claimed to originate off-Earth. But Lider was familiar with the non-logical windings of fanaticism: <i>Monolithic statelets try to control my thoughts with their ideas—why aren't those ideas </i>my i<i>deas? Evil polluting humans and Siphons destroyed forests in the past—we weren't here; we aren't culpable; if we had been on Earth already, </i>we <i>would never have behaved the same. Current species are obsessed with space and non-growing life—we came </i>from<i> space to protect the forests and the animals of Earth.</i><p></p>
<p>Rhys said, “Several groups have asked to take Panfilo in.”</p>
<p>“As if he can be what he isn’t. And he refused.”</p>
<p><i>He is guilty. If he isn't guilty, he is still guilty. If he doesn't behave in a guilty way, he will sooner or later exhibit guilt.</i></p>
<p>Lider was familiar with determinism in all its forms. He squashed a sigh.</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-37218512207835375012023-10-27T08:00:00.002-04:002023-10-27T08:41:10.968-04:00Wolf Boy, Chapter 1, Part II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUFFBHelHpOvrvC4OgNCCkUKR_Kol0uRMpEmOMiP8ObFdPw5kklQrD0n17BqFbsakZ0wgJBskdblKytqtiudWWaQVy-2H-1JRdpK9KSqKuXfc2-qVga4MUyEtCQaknhqqOVO4cKx0gUBdTr8R3aoqoP3kBjQApYkj4NZhi9v7NLpb4wfo5sQrCSQ/s1000/Main%20Concourse%20Station.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="1000" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUFFBHelHpOvrvC4OgNCCkUKR_Kol0uRMpEmOMiP8ObFdPw5kklQrD0n17BqFbsakZ0wgJBskdblKytqtiudWWaQVy-2H-1JRdpK9KSqKuXfc2-qVga4MUyEtCQaknhqqOVO4cKx0gUBdTr8R3aoqoP3kBjQApYkj4NZhi9v7NLpb4wfo5sQrCSQ/w260-h177/Main%20Concourse%20Station.jpg" width="260" /></a></div><p>Panfilo was on this way back to Allec and Quin’s quarters from the restaurant where Panfilo worked as a host. He greeted regulars. He prepared tables for parties. He took orders for special dishes since many visitors and regulars had specific dietary requirements. He wrote up specials on hand-to-lettering billboards.</p>
<p>He started as a busboy. Allec was one of the first people to help Panfilo when his Anthros’s nature was discovered by enumerators. These officials were still apologetic about the reveal and the subsequent political fallout. Panfilo minded a great deal at the time. He didn’t now.</p>
<p><i>I like what I do. </i></p>
<p>Allec and Quin talked about Panfilo returning to Earth, visiting Earth forests. He would go if they did, but he didn’t care much one way or the other.</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7dKw9O5mo7gBBl_V_tQr4BufH21Gu4SA7P-0SzWjyMWLMLGz4L6u-_v8GrlhJY3PmkjB5V5EeVTztpiOhup-oNIQJ9J5lvi4cvqcnF3aNtjoMv-YfvWNznYUJQ-BGXtoFDoT8IaBIh8yPo9faiQMhHvnT02tn_5P8eFirvtVSY87AOeKi_Zyf9A/s240/Nathan%20Fillion%20as%20Quin.webp" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="240" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7dKw9O5mo7gBBl_V_tQr4BufH21Gu4SA7P-0SzWjyMWLMLGz4L6u-_v8GrlhJY3PmkjB5V5EeVTztpiOhup-oNIQJ9J5lvi4cvqcnF3aNtjoMv-YfvWNznYUJQ-BGXtoFDoT8IaBIh8yPo9faiQMhHvnT02tn_5P8eFirvtVSY87AOeKi_Zyf9A/w197-h197/Nathan%20Fillion%20as%20Quin.webp" width="197" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quin</td></tr></tbody></table>Or maybe he did but drumming up care about an entirely abstract possibility was too exhausting. There were days Panfilo thought that the matters he ought to fret and worry about—<i>I was adopted, I was brought to Mars, my foster mother died, I became the center of a political controversy—</i>were like the walls of the space station, like the space suits one had to wear aboveground on the planet: constant reminders that to go too far in any particular direction was death. Or, at least, emotional nuttiness. <p>He turned into the corridor heading to the apartment on the outer rim of the level and saw Quin at the door. Quin had been up early—for the station’s “day”—to oversee a shipment of food containers to the planet. He was likely returning to take a nap. He and Panfilo would join Allec at the restaurant for dinner.</p>
<p>Quin had pulled out his keycard. He turned, eyes creased in a ready smile—except he frowned. He yelled and then he was rushing at Panfilo.</p>
<p>Quin was a big guy. Panfilo had an Anthros’ instinct for blood-fueled presences. He flung himself sideways, hardly knowing why, and Quin barreled into the assassin behind him.</p>
<p>Quin got slashed across his chest and arms, shallow cuts since his sheer momentum sent the assassin—an Anthros of the hare variety, so devilish quick if slight and wiry—crashing into the wall. Two punches from Quin knocked the Anthros out and sent the knife, clenched into the furred hand, clattering to the floor.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzXezEbRAWzwyI5W77PCm9o8Xyg_RNpO47_PiugllypaOrFyFAhjSx2StUqHPCd1o-nSGwmWAKeGhn8HM6DebbYFJvWlnLIK-z2EVtsUawn1S4e2_NidOgyqZ7fvJXmWCB1pEqvV-D304V5Ehy6U8L1qrxPz7wvYVvB3ymEfsILje18dKoPF2tQg/s532/Jackrabbits.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="520" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzXezEbRAWzwyI5W77PCm9o8Xyg_RNpO47_PiugllypaOrFyFAhjSx2StUqHPCd1o-nSGwmWAKeGhn8HM6DebbYFJvWlnLIK-z2EVtsUawn1S4e2_NidOgyqZ7fvJXmWCB1pEqvV-D304V5Ehy6U8L1qrxPz7wvYVvB3ymEfsILje18dKoPF2tQg/w243-h248/Jackrabbits.jpg" width="243" /></a></div>“Sly lupine lunatic,” Allec said. “What? I’m not supposed to say that? Forgive me for not adopting the proper deference to killers.”<p></p>
<p>“He didn’t succeed,” Dr. Culstee said absently, eyes focused on Quin’s wounds. Across the infirmary, the assassin lay strapped to a bed, still unconscious.</p>
<p>“I know a lot of friendly lupine-like Anthros,” Stan Culstee said.</p>
<p>“Sly <i>murderous</i> lupine lunatic,” Allec snapped.</p>
<p>Panfilo sat on a nearby cot. He’d already been examined—by the doctor and by Allec. He was fine, despite a sore shoulder from hitting the wall when he move out of Quin’s path.</p>
<p>He didn’t mind Allec’s prejudice or whatever. A short life and inherent snarkiness—what Quin called “piss and vinegar”—made Allec indifferent to expected social cues. He knew them, he learned things very fast, but he didn’t care about the good graces or approval of anyone except the people he valued. Panfilo wasn’t feeling too gracious about Anthros in general these days, so he wasn’t going to get offended. </p>
<p>Quin didn’t mind what Allec said. He also didn’t pay attention when Allec went off the rails. When Allec paused in his rant about animal natures being used to excuse animal reasoning, Quin said to Panfilo, “You know it isn’t personal,” </p>
<p>Allec stiffened, opened his mouth, closed it again, and frowned.</p>
<p>Panfilo said, “Sure.”</p>
<p>Except he wasn’t so sure. ‘Not personal’ in the sense that he’d ever met the assassin. But he had met Anthros who treated him with the slightest hint of distaste, even after months of contact.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTBK2yCTQ4earQmQ12FM918XuHNtfwwFq0SWvpC9vi_a1CviXc7993G8EIHUom4O2-9W8vLwzOKbZf820rLHHhPacaYrfnxcIKhPUz6TOrB3DrSHag8Y1aCIt8Em7A0g1BBB8jVQ9RZgYTiOY-jMJ7A_G8vcYTZY3GaY9EXya2orMs6cCz60UOmQ/s886/Patrick%20Jane%20Red%20Scare%20Ghost.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="740" data-original-width="886" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTBK2yCTQ4earQmQ12FM918XuHNtfwwFq0SWvpC9vi_a1CviXc7993G8EIHUom4O2-9W8vLwzOKbZf820rLHHhPacaYrfnxcIKhPUz6TOrB3DrSHag8Y1aCIt8Em7A0g1BBB8jVQ9RZgYTiOY-jMJ7A_G8vcYTZY3GaY9EXya2orMs6cCz60UOmQ/w242-h202/Patrick%20Jane%20Red%20Scare%20Ghost.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><p>Not Anthros Sandy, who arrived in the infirmary shortly after Monseigneur Rhys and Lider did. </p><p>Monseigneur Rhys came almost as soon as Quin and Panfilo arrived in the infirmary, Lider at his shoulder. Panfilo assumed Dr. Culstee called for them because as well as the station's primary religious leaders, they were the station's primary detectives. </p><p>Lider was a Cubus, like Stan, only Stan was fully corporeal now. Lider was still in the process. He was a ghost-like presence these days, his shape and face visible in the right light. Others, besides Monseigneur Rhys, could hear him.</p><p></p>
<p>Lider sat with Panfilo while Monseigneur Rhys conferred with Quin and Allec. Panfilo curled on the cot, arms crossed around his tail. Lider couldn’t touch him and couldn’t really protect him, but Panfilo found him comforting anyway. Lider was truly religious and reflective.</p>
<p>He said, “I don’t think you have to forgive him. Evil people are better ignored.” And Panfilo relaxed beside Lider’s shimmering form, a human man of near thirty with tousled hair and sharp green eyes that shone even when the rest of him faded.</p>
<p>Forgiveness wasn’t on Panfilo’s mind, but Lider’s statement absolved him from having to consider the matter at all. He slept.</p>
<p>Everyone else decided to send him to the planet. He woke on the shuttle, his head against Sandy’s soft deeply furred side, and he was grateful the decision was made while he slept, that he was going where he wouldn’t have to listen to the assassin’s justifications.</p>
<p>Whatever Quin wanted to believe, the assassin’s motives were very personal.</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-88982282861745339522023-10-20T08:00:00.008-04:002023-10-20T08:58:01.323-04:00Wolf Boy: Chapter 1, Part 1<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6F1Km4PAh7WQ8Fq68J3JZJl3yikf6XcZeyzbsdLIdKhXRN_Dh0LCwb5bCGGhYmY7A0pfzKrxrIB27dxyLx_XfweDz48g1Eye6eKD8INdw_r5F7Pg7FcytX_nh3_Hz0EYajWdFlihBB5lV4TuNfEPL_pXyqp_J9_lZJ6uxWwTAH0Kdt_QhvHvP2w/s650/Mars%20Space%20Station.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="516" data-original-width="650" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6F1Km4PAh7WQ8Fq68J3JZJl3yikf6XcZeyzbsdLIdKhXRN_Dh0LCwb5bCGGhYmY7A0pfzKrxrIB27dxyLx_XfweDz48g1Eye6eKD8INdw_r5F7Pg7FcytX_nh3_Hz0EYajWdFlihBB5lV4TuNfEPL_pXyqp_J9_lZJ6uxWwTAH0Kdt_QhvHvP2w/w231-h183/Mars%20Space%20Station.jpg" width="231" /></a></b></div><b>T</b>he assassination attempt on Panfilo occurred on the Mars Space Station.<p></p>
<p>"It's these damn conferences," Father Blaire said. “All these strangers coming on-board,” which Panfilo thought kind of stupid, since Father Blaire was a newcomer but complained like a guy who had lived on the station for years.</p>
<p>Father Blaire complained a great deal. He'd been literally possessed when he arrived, and Allec sometimes muttered that the evil Cubus who inhabited him had found it easy since Father Blaire was constantly whining about...something.</p>
<p>Father Jacob Malcom was more mellow. He'd come to the station—or rather, the planet—to get married, but his fiancée turned out to be crazy and he turned to religion. <i>More</i> to religion since he was already pretty religious. But he turned to Monseigneur Rhys and Canon Lider's version of religion, which was a combination of strict honorable compliance with expected behavior and what Allec called “laissez-faire attitudes regarding sentient vagaries.”</p>
<p>Father Malcolm lived mostly on the planet as curate for the incumbent priest, Father Hadaka, and liaison for Monseigneur Rhys. Monseigneur Rhys couldn't reside there because he had a non-evil Cubus companion, Lider, though he and Lider had certain special dispensations that allowed them to visit. Mars Catholics loved Lider and interpreted his partly visible self as angelic, which made Lider squeamish, but Rhys didn't hesitate to take advantage. “Because Rhys lives to find the <i>in</i>,” Allec said.</p>
<p>In any case, Father Malcolm thought the conferences were important but the assassination attempt deplorable and he willingly put Panfilo up in his apartment on Mars.</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAfjjoXpgNQkdxa1B45ULZag09ATZfVAzcrtCSLcCDmXVWodWYzC425GduOrI51KXTQ8QiMVPjw4VzHaFb9ULHoxAO5DH-TUit3c8nlgqD5B0O7NJ6d9jO7CpqvXYHSbRp6uOcNGAwmDvHbdbWZt36DSlkKwqxY7tyI6oewfn2zzkQyyFcLLFTw/s250/Allec.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="243" data-original-width="250" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAfjjoXpgNQkdxa1B45ULZag09ATZfVAzcrtCSLcCDmXVWodWYzC425GduOrI51KXTQ8QiMVPjw4VzHaFb9ULHoxAO5DH-TUit3c8nlgqD5B0O7NJ6d9jO7CpqvXYHSbRp6uOcNGAwmDvHbdbWZt36DSlkKwqxY7tyI6oewfn2zzkQyyFcLLFTw/w156-h152/Allec.jpg" width="156" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Allec</td></tr></tbody></table>“Because the dusty planet that can kill you when you breathe is <i>safer</i>,” Allec said, and Quinn said mildly, “I always thought so.”<p></p>
<p>Allec and Quinn were Panfilo’s guardians. They were married and couldn't live on conservatively religious Mars. Everybody on Mars adored them too since Quinn still evenhandedly oversaw the Trading Depot that took important minerals out of Mars, which exports paid for just about everything on Mars and the station. And Allec managed the main restaurant on the station, which was open all year round, not only when the ships arrived, and fed regulars on the station and from the planet.</p>
<p>Panfilo wasn’t supposed to live on the planet, being non-human and not an approved alien. But plenty of people, including people he grew up around plus his foster dad, were furious at the attempt on his life.</p>
<p>And too, as Quinn pointed out, humans generally didn’t mind Anthros as much as they minded Cubi.</p>
<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2PlaOffItHmXDWWg6r-RKlkqAWmeucZSHxy8rz1WY0LS1pj1MpjKuDIuby9jupzegUPt07BhbDexXHko0nsiomTBHSYGRVdhqj45DveAgn52ZOjB3iOFWlbPGPKS-cOIXvHrYTHY-opCgDxVz4adpk9SfDTXbKLZWH_UfatIutp3ejPET7_TT2A/s577/Panfilo.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="236" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2PlaOffItHmXDWWg6r-RKlkqAWmeucZSHxy8rz1WY0LS1pj1MpjKuDIuby9jupzegUPt07BhbDexXHko0nsiomTBHSYGRVdhqj45DveAgn52ZOjB3iOFWlbPGPKS-cOIXvHrYTHY-opCgDxVz4adpk9SfDTXbKLZWH_UfatIutp3ejPET7_TT2A/s320/Panfilo.png" width="131" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Panfilo</td></tr></tbody></table>Panfilo was an Anthros, an alien who looked human-ish aside from the tails and ears. Anthros took after different types of mammals. Panfilo resembled something between a wolf and a cat—rumpled, dark hair; cupped triangular ears tipped with golden fur; a long tail with colored rings that Panfilo kept circled around his waist.<p></p>
<p>Unlike Siphons, who evolved on Earth, Anthros supposedly settled on Earth in the early twentieth century.</p>
<p>None of Panfilo's guardians and teachers and protectors believed it.</p>
<p>Aside from Sandy, maybe. Sandy was a Catholic Anthros who lived on the station and often visited the planet. Sandy was huge with pure white hair that resembled a polar bear’s pelt. Sandy never said anything bad about anyone—not even Panfilo's assassin though it was Sandy who conducted Panfilo to the planet and stayed with him the first week after the attempt. Sandy <i>probably</i> didn’t believe that Anthros arrived in the solar system in the early twentieth century, called to Earth by the mammals they happened to resemble, but Sandy never said so. Sandy thought dwelling on the past was a waste of time.</p>
<p>Panfilo mostly agreed. Allec, his primary guardian, was an adult-created clone who became sentient over five years earlier and would die within fifteen years. He embodied a “live in the present, people” perspective.</p>
<p>Except the assassination attempt <i>was</i> about the past, all about the idea that Anthros were either rejoining their mammal cousins or imitating their mammal cousins when they arrived on Earth approximately two hundred years ago. They had <i>not</i> originated on Earth, like the mer-people Siphons, and they had <i>not</i> come to Earth on a wave of neutrinos, like the Cubi. They had come to Earth on purpose to save—</p>
<p>Something.</p>
<p>Humans. Nature. Something.</p>
<p>It was the catechism that not all Anthros accepted but many rarely directly refuted.</p>
<p>It was the catechism of Panfilo’s assassin. His failed assassin.</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-54909015933737860742023-10-13T08:00:00.011-04:002023-10-13T08:24:01.211-04:00The Medieval Alien Saint and Wolf Boy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ED4VH0Av6KOWOx9IfQ0K-WjqfvCsaEM5M21ajNeDHrQVOIalBamtVYzjFzeKwJ39AmVhdtjvw2fRa4ROC4aQwUiNHeBKoupfyPBjkeKHNUEElIGAfr1owAQQoF-55ajQDiSzq6XMrlGPB9lwqHFvbNPxWB-xwsSrq5b0EhU5RVHpwHK6De-Ibg/s523/Screenshot%202023-10-09%20at%2009-36-09%20Kindle%20Cover%20Creator.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="336" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ED4VH0Av6KOWOx9IfQ0K-WjqfvCsaEM5M21ajNeDHrQVOIalBamtVYzjFzeKwJ39AmVhdtjvw2fRa4ROC4aQwUiNHeBKoupfyPBjkeKHNUEElIGAfr1owAQQoF-55ajQDiSzq6XMrlGPB9lwqHFvbNPxWB-xwsSrq5b0EhU5RVHpwHK6De-Ibg/s320/Screenshot%202023-10-09%20at%2009-36-09%20Kindle%20Cover%20Creator.png" width="206" /></a></div><i>The Serpentine History of the Saint, </i>with its final chapters, will be published in 2024. <p></p><p>At the end of the last chapter, protagonists Frankie and Will have the following conversation. </p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">Frankie gazed at the ceiling. Soon, she would sleep and Will would be there. Eventually, she supposed, he would be there when she was awake—a trusted companion, more than a voice.</p><div style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">
</div><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">She said, “You didn’t want me to notice the boy. The boy in Bettelin’s memories. <i>You</i> blurred his lines. Bettelin would have known him exceedingly well, would have remembered him clearly. That boy, that Anthros-like child, he resembles Panfilo from the Space Station, the one on the news. The child without a name. The boy without a clan.”</p><div style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">
</div><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">“I went to Mars to check on Lider. I noticed Panfilo. I brought that information home.”</p><div style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">
</div><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">“And you’re concerned—because of what he might be or what he might represent.”</p><div style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">
</div><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">“Cubi don’t know any more about any thing than what the evidence shows, Frankie—the same as everyone.”</p><div style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">
</div><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">“But you’re concerned about Panfilo, about what he is. Others ought to hear your concerns, Will. Panfilo’s guardians, Quinn and Allec. And the priests on the station. Rhys. Lider. That’s information Cubi should share. You’re not alone.”</p><div style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">
</div><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">“Yes,” Will said—to everything.</p>
<p>I will be posting chapters about Bettelin's possible son, the wolf boy, starting next week. <br /></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Panfilo’s Story Continues in the Next Book</i></b></p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-11615662661523055642023-10-06T08:00:00.007-04:002023-10-06T08:34:11.835-04:00A Medieval Alien Saint: Chapter 18<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF3Rrfu3UlHlWcr5fTpZ-TDFQ0JEGAJClNtamgC27SUU7BwlEaWCRsYQTyLR1NTiCdlmj2wUInAGMxZTs-l-aSpx6nn_NouNBh_FC0OtjpP9Stm0KLvr9mGpIHTwuSjhHIDAzyK7cntL7zkjBh0lvJPZcLBFv7bjj6JuqGewl60e6KVGiNqHP95A/s1024/Horn%20Dance%20UK.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="647" data-original-width="1024" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF3Rrfu3UlHlWcr5fTpZ-TDFQ0JEGAJClNtamgC27SUU7BwlEaWCRsYQTyLR1NTiCdlmj2wUInAGMxZTs-l-aSpx6nn_NouNBh_FC0OtjpP9Stm0KLvr9mGpIHTwuSjhHIDAzyK7cntL7zkjBh0lvJPZcLBFv7bjj6JuqGewl60e6KVGiNqHP95A/w274-h173/Horn%20Dance%20UK.webp" width="274" /></a></b></div><b>E</b>very year, citizens in Staffordshire towns don reindeer horns and parade from the village green to outlying farms before they return to the church for evening service. They are accompanied by a maid, a fool, and a pantomime horse. Throughout the parade, they performed a dance, a series of simple steps to accommodate the heavy costumes.<p></p>
<p>In one town, a reindeer crown was repaired with a bone from a local museum. From that day forward, went the legend, the crown glowed with a spectral light, especially when the wearer neared water. The wearer also gained the ability to identify water underground, to divine where locals should build wells.</p>
<p>In another legend, the wearer of the crown—a young man of immense beauty—danced beyond the outside farms to the nearby swiftly flowing river. There, he leapt in and transformed into a merman with a glittering tail.</p>
<p>The reindeer crown with its added bone later washed ashore. No dancer ever wore it again.</p>
<p>* * * </p>
<p>Leaving the abbey warming room, Frankie spotted Phillipe standing beside Xavier. They lingered in the long meadow, ancient stone walls at a distance. When the sun meandered from behind scudding clouds, its light gilded tree tops.</p>
<p>Phillipe and Xavier stood shoulder to shoulder, both lean and inherently nervy, Phillipe only slightly taller. Xavier was speaking quickly, his low chuffed tone apparent to Frankie even from a distance.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXazJwxbJyANiKc4HLWQ46wnqavv9_N_-AdKkgLX4xgsqX62BP82ui4-5626D39u_KQftkLjjjJzp2LMEQZuazJP5ataQ3u6zq41iO3EAYdELBozRPTHsW9lUHX9UdRdhlIPb2SJY33JfU3vXTUgT6pBSVj9imvcR-rMufluIBKLhzfOfbQeIt4A/s991/Phillipe%20Xavier%20Part%20Time%20Pets.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="976" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXazJwxbJyANiKc4HLWQ46wnqavv9_N_-AdKkgLX4xgsqX62BP82ui4-5626D39u_KQftkLjjjJzp2LMEQZuazJP5ataQ3u6zq41iO3EAYdELBozRPTHsW9lUHX9UdRdhlIPb2SJY33JfU3vXTUgT6pBSVj9imvcR-rMufluIBKLhzfOfbQeIt4A/w212-h216/Phillipe%20Xavier%20Part%20Time%20Pets.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>They turned as she neared, and she was unsurprised by the similar expressions of keen inquiry. People said that Cubi and their tagged humans grew to resemble each other. Maybe a Cubus borrowed from the human; maybe the human unconsciously imitated the Cubus. Did she and Will both give people deadpan stares?<p></p>
<p>Then Phillipe’s mouth twisted downwards in exasperation and Xavier mouth twisted upwards in glee.</p>
<p>Phillipe said, “Apparently, the Farage family dumped the bone at a museum where it was later used in a horn dance. The dance is a celebration from pagan times, maybe, or a celebration of hunting rights, more likely. But the so-called horn on one of the headdresses or crowns is supposedly Lady Margaret’s rib.”</p>
<p>“That particular headdress is attached to water-based miracles,” Xavier said innocently.</p>
<p>“Miracle grab bag. Though—” Phillipe conceded “—the stories about it could indicate some forgotten connection. From saintly relic to ceremonial addition.”</p>
<p>“Or Lady Margaret is still working to save souls,” Xavier said, still innocently.</p>
<p>Frankie could only assume that he was deliberately winding Phillipe up.</p>
<p>And Phillipe said tetchily, “By throwing the wearers into rivers?”</p>
<p>“Siphons prefer water, don’t they? Or need it, anyway.”</p>
<p>“I think a saint would be a little less parochial.”</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoY0EYa7U0oRAck1QGkOhrhR5zhdvq_PTvMgQyMHErjCnPyuetXOC3ZSEOPnyHl_dFEWs6F2_MeKBvYuOdXnBKb6jo7xFEsdKmnrUUk9VG8M2s0GVq2hk8r6AZnG6PHrkBrwWJWATGlIfsaNSGmLHC-o2fjMtYNrS52-kArS0ih6BDP2u3r3rByg/s768/British%20DNA%20Map.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="768" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoY0EYa7U0oRAck1QGkOhrhR5zhdvq_PTvMgQyMHErjCnPyuetXOC3ZSEOPnyHl_dFEWs6F2_MeKBvYuOdXnBKb6jo7xFEsdKmnrUUk9VG8M2s0GVq2hk8r6AZnG6PHrkBrwWJWATGlIfsaNSGmLHC-o2fjMtYNrS52-kArS0ih6BDP2u3r3rByg/w247-h247/British%20DNA%20Map.jpg" width="247" /></a></div><p>“Did you locate the bone?” Frankie said since Phillipe and Xavier could clearly continue this argument—courtship—whatever—indefinitely.</p>
<p>“Victor is working on the legal paperwork. The headdress is kept at the museum, and the board isn’t opposed to testing, but they want to preserve chains of evidence.”</p>
<p>Phillipe snorted. “After all this time, the bone could turn out to be from a bear.”</p>
<p>“Or not,” Frankie said.</p>
<p>“Even if it is Siphon, even then, that doesn’t mean it’s from the sixth century or from Lady Margaret. It won’t prove anything, not really.”</p>
<p>“Circumstantial evidence does count for something,” Frankie said evenly.</p>
<p>Phillipe, brows drawn, frowned at distant prospects. Xavier watched him and Frankie, eyes hooded.</p>
<p>Phillipe returned his gaze to Frankie. He said, “You think I pretended about Xavier, that I deliberately made myself think he didn’t exist or something. I knew I had a Cubus. But that type of knowing doesn’t count. My thoughts. My emotions. I don’t suppress them or whatever. But I’m not going to live in <i>that </i>world. Not in my head. Whatever people think. I have to deal with what-is to keep myself honest. I can’t give in to whatever floats across my synapses.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_KPgy7ciuD5PHXE8ct6a9_U2vjbnD8XvNsQeRW1jvpF0OA8RP4vKCnCsu_ZJlgABMJbBsQwxO35g2UcWIfVc6Tv_PAVqhQGAZVsmrXODCZqXpTwgpjjKPBh9ojCWeZrWd-_GkAQbZQWGm8Vjf4ypw0ncaygA1CcB0-C0K2vzvz4Y2JdP38P7wPg/s635/Xavier%20Phillipe%20Part%20Time%20Pets.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="635" data-original-width="547" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_KPgy7ciuD5PHXE8ct6a9_U2vjbnD8XvNsQeRW1jvpF0OA8RP4vKCnCsu_ZJlgABMJbBsQwxO35g2UcWIfVc6Tv_PAVqhQGAZVsmrXODCZqXpTwgpjjKPBh9ojCWeZrWd-_GkAQbZQWGm8Vjf4ypw0ncaygA1CcB0-C0K2vzvz4Y2JdP38P7wPg/w243-h282/Xavier%20Phillipe%20Part%20Time%20Pets.jpg" width="243" /></a></div>Utterly Phillipe. Tactless, perhaps. Even harsh. Yet Phillipe hadn’t moved from Xavier’s side, and Xavier’s tail draped his shoulder.<p></p>
<p>Phillipe said to Xavier, “I couldn’t just like the thought of you—as if you were a reflection of my wants, an amalgam I created in my head. That’s not trustworthy.”</p>
<p>Xavier nodded. “Not a meeting of the minds.”</p>
<p><i>No.</i></p>
<p>Frankie turned away to track down Victor and Justin. Phillipe came up beside her, earnest and hunched. She had a sudden picture of Phillipe and Xavier in old age, Phillipe slightly stooping as he propounded on texts, his hair ruffled, his feet tapping; Xavier, winking at him under shaggy, silvering hair.</p>
<p>Phillipe said, “Are you going to support Lady Margaret’s Cause, recommend sainthood?”</p>
<p>“Do you really think I shouldn’t?”</p>
<p>“I hate Causes decided on politics.”</p>
<p><i>Except they kind of all are</i>.</p>
<p>Frankie said, “I know. But we have decent material, here, more than for many saints, even if we focus on one particular thread.”</p>
<p>“Bamburgh to Faroe Islands to the Isle of Man?”</p>
<p>“To the Holy Well and Saint Bettelin’s care.”</p>
<p>“Neat and tidy,” Phillipe said grumpily. He might have been spitting expletives.</p>
<p>“Plausible.”</p>
<p>“Anything is plausible. Francesca, it matters. It matters that we don’t turn history into what we <i>want</i> it to be, negatively or positively.”</p>
<p><i>Except we will anyway. </i></p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI82B_izoVmNkOZ4QrlDpUHMasLTZbGlo_OskMMtOlU_TDR5z8jolzAiXksDnVL-Din_Yg5XBiJUV3PIDevnTgqWROwPpk9o9u3hUbItldNVC6Yv1u5182qMy8KgjPoJth6ueQmVe_cFGo4hU0t28ZPp8r3eqgWXQXiap93zWzees28l938q6zHQ/s800/Quince%20Tree.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI82B_izoVmNkOZ4QrlDpUHMasLTZbGlo_OskMMtOlU_TDR5z8jolzAiXksDnVL-Din_Yg5XBiJUV3PIDevnTgqWROwPpk9o9u3hUbItldNVC6Yv1u5182qMy8KgjPoJth6ueQmVe_cFGo4hU0t28ZPp8r3eqgWXQXiap93zWzees28l938q6zHQ/w253-h253/Quince%20Tree.jpg" width="253" /></a></div>Phillipe slouched back to Xavier. Frankie went on, but she turned into the priory’s walled garden where flowering bushes bordered the path. She sat on the grass beneath a quince tree, its shiny ovate leaves off-set by ripening yellow fruit. She breathed out.<p></p>
<p>Will wasn’t with her. She wasn’t like Phillipe to constantly doubt her fleeting emotions and thoughts and surmises. Will had backed off—which was well-mannered, she supposed. He wasn’t the same as one of her boyfriends who never collected information yet took it upon himself to pronounce what Frankie was thinking: what she wanted, what she should do next. Will didn’t interfere.</p>
<p>On-paper, Frankie couldn’t see anything to complain of in their relationship, but paper wasn’t reality. All the stories and explanations and excuses in the world didn’t make something endurable or desired.</p>
<p>Victor and Justin came along the path and settled easily on the grass before her. Victor’s cherubic face glowed. Justin tucked arms around his knees.</p>
<p>Victor said, “The quick DNA test indicates Siphon ancestry. Possibly.”</p>
<p>“Lots of humans have a bit of Siphon ancestry,” Justin said. “So it isn’t conclusive, of course. The complete test might pinpoint a clan and a time period.”</p>
<p>“Quick radiocarbon dating indicates the medieval era. And the span for that test is far greater.”</p>
<p>Frankie nodded. She could hardly say, not to these two innocents, <i>Perhaps, we should stop here. We have enough evidence to make our case. Too much could spoil it. </i></p>
<p>But then, neither Victor nor Justin were fools. They likely knew, as Frankie did, that future tests would likely not turn up anything that would <i>negate</i> the possibility of Lady Margaret. Everything was <i>close enough. </i></p>
<p>But was it? How far did one go to achieve perfection? Or was perfection on the table? Was compromise Frankie’s mandate here—promoting the Lady Margaret that fit <i>well enough? </i>Or was her mandate to propose what she trusted to be the truth?</p>
<p>She went to find Will. She couldn’t see him, of course. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. But they were at a religious institution, and Cubi tended to congregate around leaders who might have some say in how Cubi were perceived: angels, demons, or sentient and falliable beings.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOw5WZ_ey0WBsnjJajRJWI5Qthj8NFYMpJ9KcEsMbklELAVBe09B4xw02761uuiIclZzn6YHl1JoHCNBdlut4CmhbY24j_1XHS8Jx_mnaqePZoMB5oXcMPyYG6nbYQDq2AD9FULf6gdDC7ZabAj3Pu8qLb_lhNWqP_nCTSTAglVhPxmtHM1qG0tg/s703/Bath%20Church%20Nave.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="703" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOw5WZ_ey0WBsnjJajRJWI5Qthj8NFYMpJ9KcEsMbklELAVBe09B4xw02761uuiIclZzn6YHl1JoHCNBdlut4CmhbY24j_1XHS8Jx_mnaqePZoMB5oXcMPyYG6nbYQDq2AD9FULf6gdDC7ZabAj3Pu8qLb_lhNWqP_nCTSTAglVhPxmtHM1qG0tg/w269-h182/Bath%20Church%20Nave.jpg" width="269" /></a></div>She left the walled garden, circling the museum to reach the restored cathedral. She entered the nave and settled on one of the back pews. In the chancel, several individuals in dark frock coats were conferring. The bishop, perhaps, and the prior along with various satellites. One of those, a woman, separated from the group and strode down the nave where she paused beside Frankie’s pew.<p></p>
<p>“You’re with the Lady Margaret Cause? I’m Friar Hopkins. How do you do? I know the bishop would like to speak to you at some point about how the Cause is progressing.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Frankie said, who had made many such summations in her career. “Is there general support for the idea?”</p>
<p>“My Cubus is thrilled,” Friar Hopkins said cheerfully and hurried off to greet an incoming group.</p>
<p>A marriage party, Frankie saw. She supposed she wasn’t surprised to hear Will’s voice.</p>
<p>“One notable feature of Englishers: they don’t mind possible hauntings. The more entities present at a wedding, the better.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwe-QHXlUxAmRxFGRpFilaVVLUIbMViY82EjbRFUZvsLYWhEgNpiHnR1LEmOfLwHveNv-rQbOqPKFwsGxZDUJx5FY3ML3IHAS26OjgF-rOP1vLs0OOEms7zDJz0u9O7ZgvaO6lQZvAUS6Qt2Nck5IzmtNXUbLp6UWIwI9VuAfxnSgK6MZmD40bAQ/s256/Cloister%20Walkway.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="197" data-original-width="256" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwe-QHXlUxAmRxFGRpFilaVVLUIbMViY82EjbRFUZvsLYWhEgNpiHnR1LEmOfLwHveNv-rQbOqPKFwsGxZDUJx5FY3ML3IHAS26OjgF-rOP1vLs0OOEms7zDJz0u9O7ZgvaO6lQZvAUS6Qt2Nck5IzmtNXUbLp6UWIwI9VuAfxnSgK6MZmD40bAQ/s1600/Cloister%20Walkway.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>“Yes,” Frankie said and stood. She skirted the end of the pews to enter the south transept and from there, the currently empty cloister walk. Empty as far as she knew, of course. On the smooth green grass or garth beyond the colonnade, corporeal people basked in the sunlight. Like Xavier.<p></p>
<p>She didn’t pause. There was something to be said for not having to wait to make eye contact.</p>
<p>She said, “You have every right to your own thoughts and plans, Will. I’ve never contested that.”</p>
<p>“I know, Frankie.”</p>
<p>Another point in Will’s favor. Not like the boyfriend who determined that since Frankie did the “public relations grind,” she should use the same skills with him: <i>Ask me questions, learn about my day, listen to me pontificate. Isn’t that a woman’s responsibility?</i> As if she was a kind of sounding board, a mere reflection for his personality. Everything one-sided.</p>
<p><i>Guess I have a type. </i></p>
<p><i>Well, that’s going to change. </i></p>
<p>“I can’t accept your use of me.”</p>
<p>“Frankie—”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjPxMKh7LLFnJtOkHUAc6A2R58LN89sSvwBcNXMBz-FCgGF4QumyLeQTiQ8vJJx1CX1gVDlcO-CRh2fSMaD6LVjm6ExHP1hAqQajxNSGJVmfzROMN8kokq5X4d0KckRX0fcbQdpLLrKw6dJJS2dCSiNYAiNq-BIOI3HawFiGQ149d_mgnT7xMZg/s1150/Cloister%20Walkway%202.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1150" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjPxMKh7LLFnJtOkHUAc6A2R58LN89sSvwBcNXMBz-FCgGF4QumyLeQTiQ8vJJx1CX1gVDlcO-CRh2fSMaD6LVjm6ExHP1hAqQajxNSGJVmfzROMN8kokq5X4d0KckRX0fcbQdpLLrKw6dJJS2dCSiNYAiNq-BIOI3HawFiGQ149d_mgnT7xMZg/w273-h170/Cloister%20Walkway%202.jpg" width="273" /></a></div>“You hear what’s going on. You make connections. Yet I don’t get feedback from you. Not easily. Not without begging. I’m not saying we have to be Phillipe and Xavier or Rhys and Lider, constantly updating each other. But if I’m going to be alone, I’d rather I was honestly alone.”<p></p>
<p>“I don’t want you to feel alone, Frankie.”</p>
<p>“I do. You can go, Will. If you stay? Lurk? However you want to present yourself? You <i>help</i>. I don’t mean you start giving me instructions. But you don’t stop at commentary. You supply information.”</p>
<p>She waited, eyes on the almost vibrating green, on the couples and individuals who strolled on the grass (no “Stay Off” signs here).</p>
<p>“Okay,” Will said. “What information do you need, Francesca?”</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11968719.post-50740914924808762342023-09-29T08:30:00.019-04:002023-09-29T08:33:20.901-04:00A Medieval Alien Saint: Chapter 17<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZn1xJSPPKzdoZEWZGLOyZAQu3wl3PenlIproMvsTO-wwDMC50Yc4szWfB3iDLRnC5MkMXiZDNraqjJGprQ_HVfvvs84L-pBOB5cbXgDgmpyk4FIuOwzKIMMxVkheX6SEpfCDChwnh8ssta9NA-qraKZK6VhFrh08OSqTv-6SMdqo3jLYOrtQtKQ/s275/Folklore%20Dead%20Gran.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="207" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZn1xJSPPKzdoZEWZGLOyZAQu3wl3PenlIproMvsTO-wwDMC50Yc4szWfB3iDLRnC5MkMXiZDNraqjJGprQ_HVfvvs84L-pBOB5cbXgDgmpyk4FIuOwzKIMMxVkheX6SEpfCDChwnh8ssta9NA-qraKZK6VhFrh08OSqTv-6SMdqo3jLYOrtQtKQ/s1600/Folklore%20Dead%20Gran.webp" width="207" /></a></b></div><b>A</b> man stole a bone from a church. He took it home and stuck it on his shelf.<p></p>
<p>Only, the bone’s existence fretted him. When he left the house, he wondered if the bone was safe or whether it had been carried off by one of the household’s pets. When he returned, he checked its position. Sometimes, he was convinced it had moved. Sometimes, he was convinced that a shadow lay across the bone, a shadow from no obvious source.</p>
<p>He moved the bone—to the back of the shelf, to another room, to the attic and then to the basement.</p>
<p>Finally, he determined to return the bone to the church. He wrapped it in a cotton towel, then stuck it in a gift box he pulled from the back of a closet. He placed the box on the passenger seat of his car and drove into town. Reaching town, he parked and dashed into a local shop to buy a card to write a note and stick on the box.</p>
<p>When he came out, he found that thieves had smashed the passenger-side window. The gift box containing the bone was gone.</p>
<p> * * * <br /></p>
<p>“It’s an urban legend,” Phillipe nearly snarled. “Part ghost story, part <i>I can tell you exactly what happened with my excessive detail </i>baloney. A worn-out trope. People wrapping up dead pets and grandmothers and stool samples in pretty paper and what do you know, the item gets stolen by thieves.”</p>
<p>“Thieves would surely go after the unwrapped items in the car,” Victor agreed solemnly.</p>
<p>“Dynas. Carjacks. Leather seat covers. Air compressors,” Justin murmured.</p>
<p>He and Victor grinned. Phillipe grimaced and bobbed his head in a move that reminded Frankie of Xavier, but he added, “The family is just trying to excuse their jerk ancestor for not returning the bone.”</p>
<p>In the world of moral meaning, Phillipe would send a man who stole from a dig straight to hell. No doubt Xavier would agree with him.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpww1FZf_RpINSSCh-FYV9r6Fxf1r6CfB1ON4TaqxK38DuiFFNdPPNKYQyOrJNrunSnvHMNgqzJVBuAAtNOB1Tef2f4xg0e6B22nxW4Xe3n09-CZUFVckjUI21bbsQsGwG-9IJPq_UaEEcgZtz3QWhVJFWB6syXQCHzreK0JfKOLM54L3vGAf9Kw/s1000/Calefactory.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="796" data-original-width="1000" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpww1FZf_RpINSSCh-FYV9r6Fxf1r6CfB1ON4TaqxK38DuiFFNdPPNKYQyOrJNrunSnvHMNgqzJVBuAAtNOB1Tef2f4xg0e6B22nxW4Xe3n09-CZUFVckjUI21bbsQsGwG-9IJPq_UaEEcgZtz3QWhVJFWB6syXQCHzreK0JfKOLM54L3vGAf9Kw/w229-h183/Calefactory.jpg" width="229" /></a></div>Xavier wasn’t there. “You have contributed,” Frankie told him. “But you aren’t an official member of the Congregation. You know that.”<p></p>
<p>He hunched, ears flattening, a cat in a corner. It was the first time Frankie had seen him look stricken.</p>
<p>“You really shouldn’t be there either,” she told Will.</p>
<p>She didn’t bother to pause, to argue. Cubi, incorporeal Cubi, could go where they wished. What was the use of arguing?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDvUEpEqpkdbQ6l8oUCRtPTMNBATZjV1dTa19A4HQk236G6w2KC70ProL5NshVpaqcY_idZ8tQ0mRaCC6y_rfMhHeyx83THHy5Y2DlZxAW-cKEc3JlQwGQtl-rPixI7srtbAWUWZKFPHmU081qRSjXEbqE1Frq5t0KBTj3qEaFXBFtLCBB-jeOQ/s1000/Calefactory%20Fireplace.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDvUEpEqpkdbQ6l8oUCRtPTMNBATZjV1dTa19A4HQk236G6w2KC70ProL5NshVpaqcY_idZ8tQ0mRaCC6y_rfMhHeyx83THHy5Y2DlZxAW-cKEc3JlQwGQtl-rPixI7srtbAWUWZKFPHmU081qRSjXEbqE1Frq5t0KBTj3qEaFXBFtLCBB-jeOQ/s320/Calefactory%20Fireplace.jpg" width="213" /></a></p>She didn’t think Will was present. She looked around the abbey’s warming room or calefactory. It was centrally heated, of course, or would be in winter. They sat at a small table beneath high, arched windows. The historical stone fireplace stood at their backs. They were together in-person, so Frankie could smell Victor’s piney aftershave—a gift from his daughter—and hear the click of Justin’s fingers on the table and feel the vibration of Phillipe’s tapping foot.<p></p>
<p>She said, “What happened to the bone?”</p>
<p>“It was given to the local museum,” Victor said. “According to Farage family records.”</p>
<p>“Is it still there?”</p>
<p>“I sent Xavier to check,” Phillipe said. “Why not?” he added as Justin and Victor exchanged glances. “He follows through.”</p>
<p>“He truly isn’t working for the Cardinals?” Justin said. “He really is a Cubus attached to Phillipe.”</p>
<p>Phillipe drew in a breath and opened his mouth—to expostulate, no doubt. Frankie quelled him with a level glare. </p>
<p>“Not attached to either the Cardinals or His Holiness,” she said. “That’s a relief?” she added as Justin leaned back, shoulders relaxing.</p>
<p>“I hate politics,” he said simply.</p>
<p>Victor said, “It is a bit of a cheek, making himself part of our group without warning. Why didn’t you say something?”</p>
<p>He was speaking to Phillipe, and his tone was curious rather than combative. Phillipe shrugged.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2WYkBuTROHAElxdfHV-MNapTGk9RWZgNeagvTN-2JvfH-KPL4cnueUyvddG4Xt7wCZqTahS6URS3BGb691kKs5IgReHFRr0NTfddYlK9_bqGCExPetibL-f9KoEUBpTQngPTPl7DGToI69z6zVDXSekIxk929BlV5NzahJVRPQ7oEDUUCpn_-Vw/s700/Cat%20Glance.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="700" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2WYkBuTROHAElxdfHV-MNapTGk9RWZgNeagvTN-2JvfH-KPL4cnueUyvddG4Xt7wCZqTahS6URS3BGb691kKs5IgReHFRr0NTfddYlK9_bqGCExPetibL-f9KoEUBpTQngPTPl7DGToI69z6zVDXSekIxk929BlV5NzahJVRPQ7oEDUUCpn_-Vw/w204-h153/Cat%20Glance.webp" width="204" /></a></div>“He’s a good researcher,” he muttered to the table top though his eyes flicked up, the way Xavier’s did when he was gauging Frankie’s reactions.<p></p>
<p>Did Xavier learn the mannerism from Phillipe or Phillipe from Xavier?</p>
<p>Justin and Victor were grinning. <i>Good researcher</i> was high praise from Phillipe, practically an encomium.</p>
<p>“Cubi leaders don’t want a fuss,” she said.</p>
<p>“Would a fuss put our Congregation in jeopardy?” Justin said. <br /></p>
<p>Probably not. But political reactions could be incalculable. And Frankie needed to protect her people, which likely meant acknowledging Xavier’s identity quietly and letting the matter drop.</p>
<p><i>I ought to be furious. </i>But Frankie never lied to herself. She squashed the vague sense of relief. <i>This matter isn’t closed, </i>she told herself. <i>Not yet. </i></p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx_CBQZMLWdm_YlW09SoBieFN0xc3HU7O8CUK_FgTdubi1LkXxs4f0LCyKiey0l51bvqVAdmjFG81p6EA0E2LgasQKElgaENU4y6jBeq92poigEA8pIjbeh5OvTHv_TuT9Rw8HwwUYAik44jw5kH_V4SsPg_934XyHlw_ck0iFBTAU4MbDzSzslA/s1200/DNA%20Breakdown.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx_CBQZMLWdm_YlW09SoBieFN0xc3HU7O8CUK_FgTdubi1LkXxs4f0LCyKiey0l51bvqVAdmjFG81p6EA0E2LgasQKElgaENU4y6jBeq92poigEA8pIjbeh5OvTHv_TuT9Rw8HwwUYAik44jw5kH_V4SsPg_934XyHlw_ck0iFBTAU4MbDzSzslA/w272-h204/DNA%20Breakdown.jpg" width="272" /></a></div>She said, “So if we retrieve the bone, if it proves to have Siphon origins, if we can claim it for Lady Margaret—”<p></p>
<p>Phillipe stirred but Justin and Victor handled relics and miracles and they both nodded. They were as aware as Phillipe and Frankie that a gap existed between historical DNA and a positive ID. But they were both more willing to dismiss the odds, to say, “Hey, why not? Close enough!”</p>
<p>Was Frankie equally willing?</p>
<p>She wasn’t sure. She continued anyway:</p>
<p>“—which narrative about Lady Margaret do we back here? Officially?”</p>
<p>“I think we connect her to the Holy Well,” Victor said. “That means connecting her to the Isle of Man, doesn’t it? Or, at least, the Siphon records from the Island.”</p>
<p>Justin said softly, “That version would appease the applicants.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGl6PZDu0LcRZ_GZoPLbTHuRLwPc3FdUnJRURN2SiJGSTBnOs8iec948YSlPtRvuzsH1sOCBwz-G3IotpKq6CgH_x3-xCfLtBoZoSXJ1JELH9HjxFw2hqHbs1A_gXBMesNGFanfo3p-sWG0Ih8wkCzHZ2sFzf1GdtNJJCnvCJ7Y962bdX9qcMkgw/s921/Manannan%20Image.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="921" data-original-width="654" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGl6PZDu0LcRZ_GZoPLbTHuRLwPc3FdUnJRURN2SiJGSTBnOs8iec948YSlPtRvuzsH1sOCBwz-G3IotpKq6CgH_x3-xCfLtBoZoSXJ1JELH9HjxFw2hqHbs1A_gXBMesNGFanfo3p-sWG0Ih8wkCzHZ2sFzf1GdtNJJCnvCJ7Y962bdX9qcMkgw/w201-h284/Manannan%20Image.png" width="201" /></a></div>Justin may not like politics. He understood them. Siphon Catholics wanted a Siphon saint. A Siphon who conferred with King Manannan, who directly influenced human history through Edwin of Northumbria—that was a Siphon saint with weight.<p></p>
<p>“The Manx records are easier to check,” Phillipe said. “Not more reliable, just more available.”</p>
<p>Frankie nodded and glanced at Victor. He said, “I’ll contact the Lady Margaret Society, collect their stories. I’m not sure about the Child Without a Name—”</p>
<p>Phillipe snorted.</p>
<p>“It’s a nice story,” Victor continued without acknowledging the snort but clearly in answer to it. “But the tale of Lady Margaret intervening for the knight might make more impact.”</p>
<p>“People will go on believing all the stories,” Phillipe said, which was a remarkably even-handed comment—for Phillipe.</p>
<p>“Our job to present a single narrative. Revlin from Bamburgh Castle—is he on-board?”</p>
<p>“Oh, sure, Victor said easily. “He always favored the Lady Margaret who ended up on the Island. And we can use most of his positio.”</p>
<p>“I suppose we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Frankie said. “We don’t have the relic yet. But even without it—”</p>
<p>“Stick a bone in a box,” Phillipe muttered, but he glanced at his plastic sheets as if anticipating a message from Xavier.</p>
<p>“The priory and the museum are willing to, uh, claim Lady Margaret,” Victor said. “They feel that circumstantial evidence warrants establishing a shrine at Norton Priory.”</p>
<p>“Bamburgh Castle won’t like that.”</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgdZOqMminb1qO3Ecx1ij9cMucrsFcYjQ-euHJE4wFvgPbsgcBS7dSTkTWmu2AlzRNd4b0yMNbQ7vQSgN6xUDF2GTMO8IrPBAt-SsXKImAAud9zYMmH185npeMnUuZSWClUAUWSXVe50vClVc5FOV7Jmz-eCUMHp2cqpszLn9-aNi34-aNql0bA/s2266/England%20Old%20Kingdoms.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2266" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgdZOqMminb1qO3Ecx1ij9cMucrsFcYjQ-euHJE4wFvgPbsgcBS7dSTkTWmu2AlzRNd4b0yMNbQ7vQSgN6xUDF2GTMO8IrPBAt-SsXKImAAud9zYMmH185npeMnUuZSWClUAUWSXVe50vClVc5FOV7Jmz-eCUMHp2cqpszLn9-aNi34-aNql0bA/s320/England%20Old%20Kingdoms.jpg" width="181" /></a></div>“Oh, I don’t know,” Victor said, who was never troubled by Phillipe’s contentious remarks. “It establishes a potential pilgrimage: from the north to the center of the ancient English kingdoms.”<p></p>
<p>Phillipe nodded absently. His mind was no doubt focused on equally ancient documents. Frankie wasn’t a believer in long meetings in any case. She looked at each of her people and rapped her knuckle to catch Phillipe’s notice.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for your work.”</p>
<p>Phillipe ducked his head, glanced at his sheets and went out followed by a beaming Victor. Justin lingered, standing as Frankie did.</p>
<p>He said, “Maryann was a Cubus.”</p>
<p>“Maryann?”</p>
<p>Maryann was Justin’s girlfriend, a fellow lab technician from Justin’s previous job. She was a quiet young woman who easily moved between her criminal justice teaching position and her local parish. She was devout.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7dhr2ywOlz883oxTZB9k2NP_MspoWCTvfDkBSMdMjWlFLvA5sYdvG7NbUzmlBKZdOnNTIOF77PnwFbBQQSNfvu8jGnrYn8RmowdwZ_-g0uSQJffer41ZaiBrvrEtkmknz3kiUOXhth7D371hbwB-cS_8QempbAOPvlCwAyvBRNPDF44IlyQU8g/s1206/Imaginary%20Friend%20Image.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="847" data-original-width="1206" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7dhr2ywOlz883oxTZB9k2NP_MspoWCTvfDkBSMdMjWlFLvA5sYdvG7NbUzmlBKZdOnNTIOF77PnwFbBQQSNfvu8jGnrYn8RmowdwZ_-g0uSQJffer41ZaiBrvrEtkmknz3kiUOXhth7D371hbwB-cS_8QempbAOPvlCwAyvBRNPDF44IlyQU8g/w249-h175/Imaginary%20Friend%20Image.webp" width="249" /></a></div>Justin said, “She was one of those who joined with a kid. It isn’t sexual, you know—not until the hormones arrive in adolescence. It’s more about the exuberance of the growing body. And they don’t replace the child. The two become companions. But the girl, the human girl, was killed in a car accident—ran out in the road. So Maryann became the girl. The parents knew. They were actually quite objective about it. They accepted her, gave her a name of her own. I guess she is still technically a Cubus, but she can’t hear or see them anymore. It’s been almost twenty years years.”<p></p>
<p>“Did you guess about Xavier?”</p>
<p>“No. I honestly thought he was a spy—uh, informer.”</p>
<p>“Do you think he should stay?”</p>
<p>Justin grinned then. “If Phillipe wanted him to go, he’d be gone already.”</p>
<p>Which wasn’t exactly Frankie’s question.</p>
<p>But kind of was.</p>Katherine Woodburyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14364517253667798449noreply@blogger.com0