*****AUDIO FILE***** "Chapter 46 - Manipulations - Audio File" [The White Raven, Chapter 46, Manipulations] [Research Facility, Planet Demonia] Prince Mischief stared blankly out the observation window. The crashed Dart Ship lie on the hillside just below the window, one of it’s wings partially blocking the left corner of the cracked glass. He didn’t feel like a prince anymore, or look like one either. Mischief sat cross-legged on the table in his undershorts, he was filthy and his hair long and tangled, his jumpsuit was too small now. Ring and Vel had never returned. He had waited in the egg room until the ship returned, but nothing he tried could get the door of the ship to open - they were probably dead inside the ship, or the Dragon had ate them. He had knelt next to the ship, pounding on the door, begging for them to come out, and when that failed, he had promised over and over to be good if they would come out. Hunger and thirst had forced him back to the research facility. He had returned to the egg room to check at least a dozen times if they had emerged from the ship. Fear had made him grow more careless and he hadn’t seen what was happening outside. He waited inside Ring and Vel’s ship for at least a week, then had decided to take one of the four spare Dart ships and try to leave. Trying to leave had killed most of the oxygen producing moss Ring had planted, but that wasn’t the worst danger to him. It had only been luck that he had turned right instead of left after navigating the Dart Ship out of the launch tunnel. The ship’s engines were laboring long before he had reached the end of the tunnel, but he hadn’t understood what the screeching sound the engines were making meant. As soon as he left the launch tunnel clouds of something he later decided were seeds attacked the ship. Then there had been a wall of fire and the ship crashed into the hillside just below the observation window. That small bit of luck had saved his life, he was close enough to trans-jump from the cockpit into the research facility as the canopy ruptured and the seeds rushed inside the ship. When he had materialized inside the research facility he had been covered with the burning seeds, the pain had been horrible. He tried to brush them off but they were stuck to him, so he did the only thing he could think of, something he had never tried before. He trans-jumped into TDS and stayed there until his lungs were ready to burst from lack of oxygen. His fingers and toes had been badly frostbitten - more pain - but his Kitsune ability to heal had worked. Light scars still covered his arms and fingers. But, at least he knew the cure for being attacked by the clouds of seeds now, trans-jumping into the freezing vacuum of TDS would save him. He had gotten the launch doors closed before any of the seeds made it all the way down the launch tunnel, but it barely mattered, most of the moss was already dead. He shut down the oxygen scrubbers to only this one room and just a light trickle into the storage hanger. Everything had been okay until one night when he woke up choking from the lack of air. The wing of the Dart Ship must have glazed the window and caused a micro-fracture that was now growing. He had the oxygen scrubbers set low to conserve the filters, but he must have set them too low to maintain a pressure seal on the room. After that he had moved the second spare Dart Ship next to the door that led to the stairs up to this room and slept inside the ship. The Dart Ship, when sealed up, could run it’s generator indefinitely, and since the air was clean inside the hanger, though very thin, the Dart’s internal oxygen scrubber could easily provide him enough air. But his delicate balance of air would change when the last of the moss died. Mischief lay down on his side amidst the trash of hundreds of discarded meals and continued to watch the raging firestorm outside. Nobody was coming for him, but he didn’t cry anymore, there was no point. He would continue day after day until either the air, or the water, or the food ran out. He looked at the stuffed toy fox in his hand, it was worn and dirty now, and felt wrong. He was too old now for stuffed animals and dropped the toy on the ground. Mischief closed his eyes and slept to the sound of the roaring wind outside. [Eagle Palace, Eagle Province, Planet Darai] Raen tried to ignore the sounds of the construction around him as he read the latest response from the Carinian Embassy. The first floor of the Palace was starting to take shape, the foundation had been laid last year and now the stones were starting to rise. The Palace would serve as the Capitol Building, residence, government offices, com-center, and dozens of other functions. The trailer he now used as an office was positioned so he could watch the palace as it slowly rose from the ground. The Palace would be a magnificent structure, with columns carved to resemble giant eagles holding the ceiling and curved marble stairs leading into the main entrance. A knock on the door alerted Raen to a visitor. He glanced at the clock on his desk - right on time, as always. "Enter," Raen called out. The door opened and a horned boy stepped into the trailer. The boy was tall for his age by nearly a foot from other nine year old Demonians, but lacked the barbed tail, clearly indentifying him as a half-breed. "Any news today," asked Prince Malice. "Jon Black still refuses to open a worm-hole," replies Raen. "What's wrong with the Carinians," growls Malice. "It's been three years." Jon Black had denied every request Raen sent to open a worm-hole. Emperor Sionnach had ignored the treaty and sent a Generation Ship. The ship had used an existing nav-lane and dropped out of TDS as close to Demonia as possible, but even then it would still take fifty-six years to arrive at Demonia. The Daraians cooperated the best they could and launched a Comet Class Exploration Probe, but even that would take another fourteen years to arrive and give them an idea what was happening on Demonia. The Ocean God, Carina, had threatened to destroy the Generation Ship, but then backed down when Emperor Sionnach arrived at the Planet with the entire Kitsune Fleet and threatened to attack. Carina had grossly underestimated the resolve of a distraught father with nearly unlimited power. Raen doubted Carina had been afraid of the Emperor, endless Grackle talk shows were still discussing the ramifications of the Ocean God's compromise by choosing not to help, but also not to interfere. Raen suspected Carina was considering the larger picture and preventing the Emperor from destroying the Empire. The Kitsune Emperors had a long medical history of being genetically prone to insanity, apparently Emperor Sionnach was no exception. A Grackle News Reporter had gotten near enough to the Emperor to get a photograph. Raen studied the eyes of the Emperor and saw a man struggling to maintain sanity - the loss of his son had taken the man to the edge of destruction. "What are you thinking about?" asks Prince Malice. "Your father," replies Raen. Malice picked up a coal sample from the edge of Raen's desk and gripped it in his fist. The boy was angry at Jon Black for refusing to help. "Don't worry, father doesn't blame House Eagle," says Malice squeezing the piece of coal. "Everyone knows Mischief stowed away aboard that ship on his own." “Still, political tensions are high,” replies Raen. “Political tensions are high on every world,” says Prince Malice. “Everyone is scared father is going to lose control.” Malice stood and tossed the piece of coal back on the desk. Malice was certain if he kept trying he would be able to make a diamond. “I better go, there’s a guest lecturer at Eagle University I want to hear. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Malice stood and left the trailer. Raen picked up the piece of coal and inspected it. The coal was warm, but that was all. Raen had never heard of a Demonian creating a diamond before, perhaps it was just a boyhood Demonian game, the way Daraian children pretended to be Super Hawk. Raen decided to take a walk and found Moeth walking along with a line of Raven-Eagle Hatchlings trailing behind her. Raen changed directions, he didn’t really want to talk with her, he wasn’t ready to accept what she was doing. She had been right though, he had been neglecting the Raven hatchlings from the very beginning. The original Raven hatchling orphans were all Chirps now, and the oldest of the original Chirps were grown, but they weren’t Hawks, or Sparrows, or any of the other races that made up the Eagles - they were Ravens, and they wanted to do what Ravens did best. The Eagle Intelligence Corps was headquartered somewhere deep under the Eagle Cliffs in the natural tunnels that had existed since this continent rose out of the ocean. Raen hadn’t visited down there yet, he left most of it to Moeth and Peli. “Sir.” Damn, he hadn’t changed directions fast enough. Raen stopped and turned around, it was one of Moeth’s Ravens. “Yes, Malik,” replies Raen turning to face the young man. “I’m to report that the new Cobblers on main street are Raven Temple spies,” says Malik. “Are they following the established laws for intelligence gathering?” asks Raen. “No, Sir,” replies Malik. “You left the door unlocked and they went into your trailer last night and copied the blueprints for the palace.” “That’s my fault,” says Raen. “But, it’s legal to enter a building for intelligence gathering, if it’s unlocked.” “Only if they’ve filed with the Province Government as Foreign Intelligence Officers,” replies Malik. “And I take it they haven’t?” asks Raen. “No, Sir.” “I’ll deal with it,” says Raen sighing. “When do you test for your Master Raven certification.” “I didn’t start training until I was sixteen, so I can’t test until next summer when I turn twenty,” replies Malik. Raen had planned to walk along the cliffs but instead headed into town, he needed to deal with the two Raven spies before Moeth kicked off another international incident. Constable Grant was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of his office. Raen motioned for the Constable to follow him. Grant didn’t bother asking why, he had long since stopped trying to ask Raen anything, it was easier to just go along and find out what surprises Raen had in store. Raen pushed the door open to the Cobbler’s shop and stopped in front of the counter, Grant stood off to the side and waited. The Raven cobbler didn’t even bother to argue his innocence, one look in Raen’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. The Raven slowly opened a drawer under the counter and lifted out the copied blueprints. The Raven’s eyes flicked to the Constable and he began to reach inside his leather coat. “Slowly,” warned the Constable, his hand hovering near his sidearm. The Raven pulled his coat open slowly and retrieved the five pieces of emergency gold all Ravens were issued by the Raven Temple to negotiate their freedom if caught. Raen glanced at the female Raven and she stood from her work bench and set her own emergency gold next to her mate’s gold. “You are free to leave if you wish,” says Raen. “You know what the Temple will do to us when they discover we failed,” says the Raven. “Yes, I do know,” says Raen. “I also know that Darai is a dry powder keg just waiting to go off, this is a foolish time for Raven nonsense.” Raen scoops up the gold and drops it into a pocket. “I’ll trade this gold back to you when you have the equivalent in standard coin,” says Raen. “You don’t need to tell the Temple anything. I suggest you start making boots.” Raen takes the copy of the blueprints and walks back to the door. “File your damn paperwork,” says Raen opening the door. “And stay the hell out of my trailer.” Raen walks out onto the porch and Constable Grant follows him. “That was well done, you’re growing up,” says Grant. “I need to speak with Jon Black,” says Raen. “I have no influence over Lord Black,” says Grant. “I’m not talking about the current reigning Jon Black, he’s worthless,” says Raen. “I need to speak with the original Gunslinger Jon Black.” “I have no idea what your talking about, that Jon Black died over two hundred years ago,” says Grant. “That may be the first lie I’ve ever heard from you,” says Raen. “The galaxy is on the verge of war over this Demonia issue. I need to speak with Gunslinger Black, do what you can.” ***** [Seed Ship, Planet Darai] “I have it!” Ring looked up from his notes as Vel ran into the room shouting. “I have it!” “The fourth equation, already?” asks Ring. “Yep, only six more to go,” says Vel. “We’re a year ahead of schedule now, good job,” replies Ring. “What’s the fourth equation do?” “We have control of the shuttle,” says Vel. “Now we can go anywhere in the test ecosystem we want without asking Draekus for permission.” “Don’t count on it,” says Ring. “Draekus still has environmental control, she can bring up a storm and ground us. Let me see the equation.” Vel handed him the notes with the answer to the equation. Ring read it over and nodded. The equation was the fourth of ten equations given to them by Draekus, when they solved the tenth equation they would have full control of the seed ship. “What are you working on?” asks Vel. “Aedi language,” replies Ring. Vel’s eyes flick up at the ceiling and she squeezes Rings shoulder. Ring gets up and closes the door to the room. “It’s okay, I used the second equation to get hold of the ship schematics this morning,” says Ring. “This ship wasn’t designed to eavesdrop on the crew, I’m positive now which rooms are safe to talk in.” “You still don’t trust Draekus?” asks Vel. “Not only don’t I trust Draekus, but I don’t think she is who she says she is. And I think I have proof now,” explains Ring pulling up the recording of Commander Dragon’s greeting from when they first arrived. “Without a base we can’t translate any of that,” says Vel. “We have a base,” says Ring. “We know two words in the Aedi language; Draekus and Dragon.” “Those are proper nouns, they won’t work as a base,” says Vel. “Good point, until you realize that the Daraian translation gives us the base,” explains Ring. “She says, ‘I am Commander Dragon,’ and that’s where we find the verb modifier in singular present tense. She then later says, ‘I am pleased’, and that’s where we get the base translation from. Now watch this.” Ring plays the recording again while Vel pulls a chair up and sits down. All Ravens are trained in lip reading, but without knowing the language it doesn’t do much good. “I see what you’re saying,” says Vel. “The mouth formations are different when she says ‘I am Commander Dragon’ and when she says, ‘I am pleased.’ But that could simply be the use of a proper contraction. She might have said, ‘I am Commander Dragon,’ and ‘I’m greatly pleased’ or even, ‘I’m pleased greatly,’ depending on whether their modifying verb is before or after the noun.” “Possibly,” admits Ring. “And if that were the only inconsistencies, I would let this go, but it’s not. Say the word ‘Draekus’ and take note where your tongue rests at the end.” “Draekus,” says Vel. “Okay, my tongue finishes at the bottom of my lower teeth.” “Now say the word ‘Dragon’ and note the location of your tongue,” says Ring. “Dragon,” says Vel. “My tongue finished on the roof of my mouth.” “Exactly, now let’s listen to Commander Dragon speak the sentence, and watch her mouth formation,” says Ring. “Greetings children, I am Commander Dragon, Senior Biologist of the Draekus Seed Ship.” Ring played the recording three times for Vel. “Did you see it?” “Yes, it does look like she is saying, ‘I am Commander Draekus,’” agrees Vel. “But accent could account for that.” “It could,” says Ring. “But there are external clues that when added only deepens the mystery.” “What clues?” asks Vel. “When we first arrived, we were tested,” says Ring. “The two spears, the ability to identify the objects needed to create fire, and social structure. Those tests make no sense until you remember that Commander Dragon died a million years ago. Those tests made perfect sense for testing pre-historic Daraians and Demonians. I think if Commander Dragon were alive today she would have modified the tests for modern Daraians, or Demonians.” “Those tests did make me mad, they were insulting,” says Vel. “But why would Draekus conduct the tests knowing our level of advancement over the last million years?” “The Draekus A.I. said she has to obey the pre-existing orders of the Commander,” explains Ring. “Draekus was locked into a loop and had to continue giving the tests that Commander Dragon ordered before she died.” “So you’re saying this woman in the recording is Commander Draekus, and the ship is Dragon?” asks Vel. “That’s where my final clue comes from,” says Ring. “This moon is called Draekus. Have you ever heard of a planetary body being named after a spacecraft? They’re named after people, places, mythology, even a numeric numbering system; not a ship. I think this moon was named after a famous biologist, the last living Aedi commander.” “We can’t prove any of this,” says Vel. “Not yet we can’t,” says Ring. “We just keep studying and be careful. Oh, and you’re going to like this.” “What did you do?” asks Vel suspiciously. “The third equation gave us the authority to modify the test ecosystem, I tricked Draekus and said I needed some data from the planet and slipped a message in for Prince Mischief. Let’s go see if he got the message.” Vel followed Ring up to the landing platform. A terraformer was waiting. Ring opened the sample bin and looked inside. Vel looked inside the bin next and grinned. “Thank the Goddess, he’s still alive,” says Vel. ***** [Research Facility, Planet Demonia] Prince Mischief opened his eyes, something was wrong, he was warm. Mischief sat up and looked at his hand, there was sunlight coming through the observation window, there hadn’t been sunlight on Demonia since before the Kitsune-Demonian war. Mischief jumped off the table and ran to the window. The firestorm was still out there, but it was being held back by something. A machine that hadn’t been there before sat at the base of the hill. Mischief watched the machine for an hour and then trans-jumped outside. The air was wrong, and thick with the smell of ozone, but it was breathable. There hadn’t been anything new happen in three years, and he wasn’t going to pass this up. Mischief walked down the hill and stopped in front of the machine. It had four legs and a gaping jaw, and… it was some kind of a monster come to eat him. Mischief shrugged. Let it eat him, so what. He was never getting out of this alive. Everyone had abandoned him for being bad; this was his punishment. The machine spoke and Mischief’s legs went rubbery and he fell backwards on the ground. “Creation is Chaos, Chaos is the great Mischief of the Universe, request proof that Creation exists, provide physical proof that Mischief of Chaos is among Creation.” A compartment on the front of the machine opened. Mischief stared at the horrifying monster and wondered why it was waiting to eat him; the machine just sat there, waiting for something. “What do you mean?” asks Prince Mischief. “Is it a riddle?” Mischief pushed himself to his feet and slowly approached the machine and looked inside the compartment; it was empty. What did the monster want? He stared at the machine for a very long time, it had been years since he had to really use his brain. The monster was asking for proof that Mischief of Chaos is among Creation. Mischief’s eyes lit up and he danced in circles - “it is a riddle, it is a riddle - he didn’t abandon me. The Dragon must have locked them up and he finally found a way to send a message. I knew Ring wouldn’t abandon me - I knew it. All these storms are Demonia being re-created, it’s creation, and I’m Mischief among Creation.” Mischief scratched his head, he needed proof, but what? The open compartment, he had to put something inside to prove he was here. “Wait right here, monster, don’t leave,” shouted Mischief turning and trans-jumping in three jumps back inside the research facility. A moment later and three more jumps he was again standing in front of the monster. “Here you go, monster,” says Mischief dropping his old stuffed toy fox into the open compartment. The compartment slammed shut and the machine accelerated into the sky. Mischief watched it disappear. “I should have put myself inside the compartment.” Something stung his arm and he looked down. A seed was burning his arm. Mischief looked up and his eyes widened in fear, the monster was gone and the storm was coming back. He turned and ran for the observation window as the clouds of burning seeds rushed into the void left behind. “I’ve already jumped six times in a row, my limit was only five, I can’t make it.” Mischief pressed against the glass of the observation window while more seeds stung his skin. “I have to jump.” Mischief closed his eyes and trans-jumped. It was nearly a minute later before he appeared on the other side of the glass and falling to the ground exhausted. “How did I jump seven times in a row?” “…because I’m older, my limit is seven now… how old am I?” Mischief checked his wrist implant for the first time in three years. “My birthday was two months ago, I’m nine years old?”