Bonus Story Archives

Wanted: Those Who Don’t Fear the Dark

Bonus Story, Fantasy / M Pax / April 21, 2026

A story from the Rifters universe…

More houses, more streets, more neighbors graced the lands upon which the town of Settler had been founded in Central Oregon. When Cordelia had first arrived with her brother and mother in 1888 to join their father, she had been so young she didn’t know the meaning of much and only two other families had joined them that first year. Wooden buildings dotted the landscape where there was once just scrub and trees. A few wagons rumbled down the streets, and horses slapped their impatient tails at hitching posts.

Nestled inside the remains of an ancient super volcano, the town was picturesquely set between two placid lakes warmed with the residual energy of the volcano. It’s crumbled crater walls cradled Settler from some of the harsher winter storms, but not all of them. Snow remained on the craggy peaks, and the Cascades in the distance were still entirely white, showing no indication that summer would begin in a mere month. Cordelia was hardly ready.

Her paps built additions to the house like a man possessed. The newest upside-down room made her dizzy, and she couldn’t get him to stop. Neither could his best friend Chuck. Since the loss of her mother, he hadn’t been as coherent. He got worse when baby Wallace died. The baby had no chance without a mother to fight for him. Cordelia had only been six, the town wasn’t populated enough to help out, and her father had been incapable of caring for the infant.

Tragedy aside, the worst part was the rift would open on the summer solstice, and her paps couldn’t be trusted to keep the town and the world safe. Not anymore. She and Chuck had discussed it in length, and he had insisted she take over.

Between the summer solstice and fall equinox every year, the rift opened and brought the potential of monsters visiting Earth. Her father, Chuck, and some of Chuck’s tribe had quietly sent the monsters away every summer. This season, Chuck’s people had been moved away and her father wouldn’t leave the house. Her older brother, Rick, rarely tore his attention away from his guitar long enough to be of any use to her. He just sat in the pasture, singing to the cows. She feared insanity ran in the family and hoped she hadn’t inherited the gene.

She had left the house with the sole purpose to recruit Rifters, people who would watch over the rift with her. Sure, her brother would be at her side, but she didn’t see how his songs could back her up if push came to shove.

Her first stop was the ranch next door. The simple one-story structure had been painted a pretty yellow and had the most inviting porch. The ladies of the house lived here all year round, but Mr. Hessler spent the winters boxing in San Francisco and Portland to supplement what his ranch produced. He generously offered lessons to the townsfolk and didn’t discriminate between young or old, or man or woman. His philosophy was that everyone should know how to defend themselves.

A man with the physical rigor of a rancher and boxer would make a great guardian out at the rift. Cordelia had it in her mind she would not leave until he said yes. When the Hesslers had moved in, his daughter, Dottie, had become fast friends with Cordelia. It was from Dottie that Cordelia had heard Mr. Hessler had returned from San Franciso.

While still walking down the road, she spotted him in the fields with his horses. He was trying his hand at taming wild mustangs this year. She watched him chase the herd around the pasture, never getting any closer to any of them.

“You’re going about it all wrong,” Cordelia advised from outside the flimsy fence, trying to tame the flyaway brown strands escaping her bun.

“Get in here and show me.” He tossed the rope to her.

Cordelia grabbed hold of her brown skirts and slipped through the slats of the fence. “I’m happy to oblige after all those boxing lessons, Mr. Hessler.”

“Too bad Chuck had to move. I could use his wisdom.” He had sandy brown hair and blue eyes like his offspring. Cordelia often envied their blue eyes, but knew she was better off with her sensible brown pair.

“You have me. I’m enough.” She picked up the rope and walked to the middle of the field, setting her sights on a young mare who didn’t have a foal and wasn’t about to foal. She sat down and talked softly to the horses. Sometimes, she whistled and sang. Mr. Hessler brought her lunch and a bucket of apples. “Do you have any books?” she asked. He returned a while later and set The Old Curiosity Shop by Charles Dickens in her hands.

“Pardon me for saying so, Miss Swit, but you don’t seem to be accomplishing anything. The horses are ignoring you.”

“Which is a good thing, Mr. Hessler. If they were paying me mind, they’d probably be running away.”

“Okay, I see what you’re getting at. Should I stay?”

“If you sit quietly and don’t scare off the herd.”

“Fair enough. Good thing I brought another book.” He pulled The Three Musketeers out of his pocket. “I brought the Dickens back for you.”

“For me? You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

“You’re Dottie’s best friend and my best pupil, Miss Swit.”

“Call me Cordelia, please. Let’s not treat each other so coldly.”

“Excuse me if I slip up now and then, but I’ll do my best to oblige, Cor-Cordelia.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you come by for a boxing lesson? I know it wasn’t to teach me horse taming.”

“Hm, yes.” She squinted at the sun before settling her gaze back on him. “I need recruits. Folks not afraid of the dark. Folks who would be good in a fight.”

His eyes widened. “For what purpose? You don’t seem the brawling type, Miss…, er, Cordelia.”

“This town has a deep secret which Paps has kept since he founded this town in 1888.”

“The weird blue lights in the woods in the summers?”

Her eyes widened this time. “How did you know?”

“I don’t know what the lights mean, but most of the town has witnessed them. Chuck’s explanation of the volcano sometimes letting off some steam satisfied most.”

“But not you.”

He shook his head.

“You’re right to be skeptical.” She explained the rift and the potential for monsters.

“You can count me in, and Dottie will want to be part of it. You’re taking on women, aren’t you?”

“I don’t discriminate Mr. Hessler.”

“Call me Gregory.”

“Doesn’t seem proper, Mr. Hessler.”

The young dun mare came up to Cordelia, snuffled her and the bucket of apples. She held one out to the mare. “You’re a beautiful dear, aren’t you.” The mare let Cordelia touch her before trotting off. “You behave just like this until the horses start to trust you, then you move on in the training.”

“Will you come by when I’m ready for the next step?”

“You can count on it. The dun mare will be mine, by the way.”

“I’d have it no other way.” He scratched the back of his neck. “If you’re looking for more recruits, I have a few suggestions.”

“No worries, I have the matter well in hand.

“You always do.”

She left the ranch for the outskirts of town and the blacksmith’s shop. A half open sort of barnlike building, the shop was as utilitarian and straightforward as its owner. Langston Quarles was in many ways as dark as his anvil, and Cordelia appreciated his serious manner. His coal-black eyes didn’t glance up from his work when she walked into his shop.

“What ken I do ya fer, Miss Swit. It be coming up on evening time.”

“I wouldn’t dare keep you from Edna’s supper. No worries, Mr. Quarles.” If there was on person in this town who was as formidable as Cordelia, it was the blacksmith’s wife. “Is Edna keeping herself well?”

“You know. You just had tea will her last week.”

“Fair enough, I’ll not delay my reason for coming any further. I admire your ingenuity with your inventions and creations. You already are a great service to the town, but you could be even greater.”

“How so?”

She told him about the rift and how she needed help with keeping Settler and the world safe. “Will you join me in this endeavor, Mr. Quarles?”

“If you’re so lucky as to procure Edna’s say so, I will.”

“I will stop by your place and ask her for tea.”

“I want to help, though. So, you know where my feelings sit on the matter, but I won’t defy my Edna.”

“Nor should you.”

“She’d make a great addition to the group,” he suggested and returned to hammering on a panel of metal.

Following through, Cordelia popped by the Quarles’s home and invited Edna to tea the next day.

Edna had her dark hair pulled back with a scarf wrapped around her curls, which had a mind of their own. She bounced her young son on her hip. “It’ll have to be before lunching time. You’ve more town business to discuss?”

“Yes, I promise it’s more interesting than discussing infrastructure.”

“I look forward to it, Cordelia. Evening meal’s on the fire. If it burns Langston and my baby boy go hungry.”

Cordelia had no intentions of lingering. Interfering with Edna’s schedule would make her the subject of the woman’s ire for years. Cordelia didn’t need the drama in her life. She went home and tended to her own family, her father and brother.

The next day, she dressed in her fine blue dress and arranged a hat over her more carefully arranged hair. Edna demanded and deserved the respect of making an effort. She strode into the middle of town and inside the bakery, which also served as a tea café for ladies. Cordelia selected the quiet table in the corner and placed the order for a pot of tea, two cups, biscuits, butter, and honey. Edna abhorred too much of a fuss.

She walked in less than a minute later, dressed in her fine burgundy dress to rival the best fashions in San Francisco. Decorative combs slicked back her dark curls and rolled them into a charming updo. A delicate face with cute features belied by the force of her nature.

“Good day, Cordelia.” She sat down and removed her gloves. “Did you order the tea? Today, my time is limited. Langston has to ride out to Pronghorn to deliver an order of nails. What do you need me to accomplish? And for the life of me, with all these souls in this town, why are we the only two who can get anything done?”

“Excellent question, Edna.” Cordelia fell quiet as Bernard set down their tea and biscuits. She waited until he disappeared into the back kitchen before revealing the rift and the proposition she had made to Edna’s husband.

“He knows what’s good for him by telling you to ask me before he answers, but you should have come to me first, Cordelia.”

“I considered it in earnest but wanted to know whether he was interested before coming to you.”

“The courtesy is noted. Thank you. I’m keen to join you too, but not yet. When my boy gets old enough to watch over the babes, I’ll start up with you then.”

“Your offer is generous.”

“It’s no offer, it’s a desire. We make things happen, Cordelia. You make this happen for me. Now, I must go.” She hadn’t touched her tea before gliding out the door. Heads turned as she strolled by. Between her beauty, poise, and demeanor, Edna was a vision few could ignore.

Across the street, the general store had a steady stream of customers. Cordelia knew this hour of the day was one of Millicent Fisk’s busiest. Cordelia enjoyed her tea and biscuit, then another cup of tea. The general store grew quiet. She asked Bernard to box up the biscuits and stepped across the street.

Besides a general store, Milicent Fisk was the town’s apothecary. She had been a nurse in the War Between the States and tended to the folks of Settler as gently as she had once cared for soldiers.

“You need another tincture for your paps, Miss Cordelia?” Millicent wiped her hands on her apron. Her graying blonde hair was neatly piled on top of her head. Her eyes, which were a nondescript shade of brown, scoured over Cordelia, perhaps looking for health issues. “How did he fare with the last one?”

“No better, Millicent.”

“There are others we can try, but they’ll make him dopey so that he sleeps a lot.”

“I’m not sure we’re there yet.”

“Your too young to be shouldering all these troubles.”

“When you were my age, you were tending to severely wounded men in a war.”

“Like you, I’m a doer.”

“You’re also one of Mr. Hessler’s best students. All of your talents I could sorely use.” She told Millicent of the rift and her forming a group of protectors.

“Count me in by all means.” Millicent crossed her arms, leaning back against a partition, hiding her herbs and ingredients. Some accused her of being a witch. The ignorant always accused intelligent women of such nonsense.

“We’ll meet up at Mr. Hessler’s ranch in two days to begin training together.”

“What sort of training will we do?”

“Learning not to scream at monsters.”

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A House With Two Stories

Bonus Story / M Pax / March 17, 2026

A bonus story from the Rifters universe…

Cordelia hardly knew what to think of the Oregon Territory, which was mostly fir trees and volcanic rock. Winter had been long and harsh. Here it was July, and the mornings were brisk enough to require her to wear two shawls. She would have preferred to wear the bearskin coat, but her mother said it wasn’t proper with new families coming to town.

Snorting out some porridge with a laugh she couldn’t fully contain, Cordelia gulped down some lukewarm rosehip tea to wash down her breakfast and her mirth. Her mother didn’t care for frivolity.

However, there was no one else in Settler to see whether Cordelia wore a proper coat besides Chuck from a nearby tribe who had taken a liking to Pops. Sometimes Chuck brought his wife and children around, which hardly added up to a town. Most times Cordelia believed she, her brother, and parents lived in the world alone.

Wiping her mouth, she also removed the grin from her face. “Do the new people have kids?” she asked brightly.

Across the table, her brother ate his porridge in two bites and finished his tea in one long draught. “Thanks for breakfast, Mams,” he said. Robust and tall for his age, Rick took after Mams with a lot of red peppering is brown hair.

“P. Rick,” their mother inhaled with a disapproving air. Maybe the frown came from the hair coiled tightly atop her head. Her swelling stomach was more likely. Mams was always tired and feeling poorly lately, taking away the usual hints of amusement that usually graced her face. “Eating that quickly is hardly civilized. The steer will still be in the pasture ten minutes from no.” She loomed over him and grabbed him by the ears, turning his head one way then the other. “You could use a more thorough washup. Behind your ears is filthy.” Scrunching up her face, she let go of his ear and thoroughly wiped her hands on her apron.

Getting up from the table, my brother stood as tall as his nine-year-old body would allow. “Calling someone pee isn’t civilized. I am Rick. Just Rick. And I’m just going to get dirty again. I’ll washup later.” He grabbed a beat-up guitar hanging on a peg by the door and ran outside.

Cordelia hid her giggle behind her hands.

Mam came over to Cordelia, smoothed her brown hair and examined behind her ears. “You’re a good example for your older brother, and I’m glad you’re already consuming your meal like a lady. Mostly.” She handed Cordelia an apron. “We’ve chores and baking to get done.”

“Can’t I go help with the herd?” Cordelia preferred working outside and had put on her worn gray dress for that purpose.

“May, it’s may not can. And no, you may not. Despite our surroundings, I will raise you to be a lady. If you ever return to the more refined world, I do not wish for anyone to wag their fingers or tongues at you.” Her face softened while her hands supported the small of her back. “I need the help. Will you not stay inside and help your poor mother?”

Doing her best to hide her disappointment, Cordelia finished her breakfast and donned the apron. Without being asked, she washed the dishes and dried them, swept the floors, and then helped her mother knead bread.

Her mother’s swelling belly made some chores more difficult for her. However, Cordelia wasn’t any better equipped as a six-year-old to lift and carry things. She got inventive and stole a wheelbarrow from her father’s worksite. The grand house they lived in was still only partially finished. Household chores were accompanied by the sounds of hammers, saws, and men’s gruff voices. Well, two men. Chuck had come to assist Pops again.

Beautiful planks of buffed cedar graced the floors. Plastered boards comprised the walls. Mams had chosen a stately blue to paint the rooms downstairs after reading the color was fashionable in the fine houses back East. Later, she confessed she would seek out cheerier colors once Pops was done with the house.

During the lull between chores and lunch, her mother went to rest. Cordelia snuck up the stairs and watched her father and Chuck erect another wall. Once the second floor was completed, the family would sleep up here, and she’d get her own private room instead of sharing with Rick.

After getting her fill of construction, Cordelia skipped down the stairs and went out to the cow field to find her brother. Rick preferred hanging out with the cows over the sheep. As usual, he sat on a fallen tree and strummed his awful guitar. Sometimes he sang to the cows.

“They make for a poor audience, P,” she said while settling on the log beside him. She was the only one he let get away with calling him P. “With how their legs bend and having hooves instead of hands, they’ll never be able to clap.”

“Sometimes they stop and listen,” he answered. “That’s good enough.”

“You should give more of your time to the sheep. They must feel lonely.”

He laughed. “They’re in a flock. They don’t get lonely. Besides, they have the dog and the donkey to keep them company.”

Cordelia squinted across the meadow at the sheep. “You think so?”

“Don’t you worry.” He smiled kindly at her. “Girls don’t need to know about ranching. I’ve got it covered.”

Her gaze shifted to the sky. “When the sun is straight over, lunch will be on the table. You should come in early and wash up to please Mams. She’s been so tired.”

“Her stomach keeps swelling. Do you think she’s sick?”

“She won’t talk about it.”

“What’s for lunch?”

“Chuck brought some fish. There’ll be bread and stewed greens too. I was going to go look to see if there are any more wild strawberries for some berries and cream.”

Rick licked his lips. “Maybe you can help me with the sheep after lunch.”

“Maybe.” She smiled and scampered back into the house before Mams missed her.

Cordelia wasn’t allowed to help with the sheep after lunch, and there was no sign of the new families her mother had mentioned at breakfast. Once dinner was finished, the family retired to their seats in front of the fireplace. Mams and Pops sat in matching upholstered wingback chairs. Cordelia and Rick sat on the hearth made of rocks quarried from the area.

The fire crackled warmly on Cordelia’s back. She faced her parents, waiting for Pops or her mother to begin a story. Her father puffed on a pipe while Mam rested her eyelids.

“This is a story about a great secret in the woods,” Pops started. He wore his dark brown hair in the current style, and his blue eyes twinkled. Despite making a profession of making a living off the land, he had a sophisticated air, as if the land worked for him.

“In these woods?” Cordelia asked.

“No, just in any forest.”

This was going to be one of his wilder tales instead of a recounting of life events. Cordelia liked the stories about his and Mam’s younger days better, but any story was welcome.

“In the forest, a person can find survival. There’s food, shelter, fuel, and companionship.”

“Companionship?” Rick laughed. “Like make friends with animals and birds?”

“Trees are friendly too,” Pops said. His mouth quivered with amusement. “I met one the other night.”

Cordelia glanced out the window. Trees surrounded the house. “What do you mean?”

“The tree walked up to me and bowed. Chuck said it wanted to pass us and take root on this world, but it couldn’t be allowed.”

“Did it talk?” Cordelia studied her father. He didn’t make the knotted expressions he usually did when making up a story.

“It spoke in a sort of music. I have no idea how Chuck understood it. But he didn’t seem like himself. Now off to bed before the trees come alive and come to get you.” Pops chuckled and ushered them off to their room.

Rick was asleep as soon as he lay down, as always. Cordelia’s mind churned. Talking trees? At night?

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, then the front door softly shut. She peered out the window. Her father strolled into the forest. She had to see this singing tree. Grabbing her bearskin coat from the coat tree by the door, she trotted after him. A worn path led out to the mountain of shiny black rock. Chuck met her father there, and they proceeded to a small clearing with two shiny black pillars. The two of them perched on a boulder and stared at the pillars.

Cordelia hunched behind a bush. She had to see this tree. The night grew darker and colder, and she was glad she had taken the coat instead of the shawls. As she blew on her hands, blue light ignited around the two pillars. The light danced like lightning, growing brighter and larger until it formed a ball. Out of the ball came a bulky creature with a bulbous head and green eyes that sliced through the darkness like lanterns.

Gasping, Cordelia left the safety of the bush. She wanted to meet the creature who had appeared like magic. Maybe its magic could make Mams better and less tired. It had quills and patches. Patches of what? She inched closer, reaching out a hand.

Pops roared and snatched her up. Chuck shoved the creature into the blue light. Both disappeared, and the night became still once more.

“That didn’t look like a tree,” she said to Pops.

He carried her with all haste through the trees and back into the house. “You are never to come out there at night. Never.”

She had never seen him so angry. He pulled off her coat and grabbed her shawls off the coat tree. Then he grabbed all the coats and shawls took them with him into his and Mam’s room.

Sleep was impossible. Cordelia mulled over what she had seen and could make little sense of the sphere of blue and the fanciful creature. In the morning, Mams rushed into Cordelia and Rick’s room and packed their belongings into a trunk.

“What are you doing?” Cordelia rubbed her eyes and frowned. On the verge of tears her chin quivered. “I’m sorry, Mams. So sorry. I’ll never do it again.”

“You and Rick were invited to Aunt Wilma’s for the summer. You’ll have so much fun.”

Pops strode in and dragged the trunk out to a waiting wagon. Chuck held the reins, and the horses stomped restlessly.

“I don’t want to go,” Cordelia pleaded. “I’m sorry Pops.” She wasn’t sure what she had done wrong.

The wagon lurched forward, and her parents turned their backs. Rick put his arm around her while she struggled not to cry.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I followed Pops out into the woods last night.” She told him what she saw.

“The devil is here?” Rick glanced nervously around the valley that had become home. “We should have stayed in Missouri.”

“Why would Mams and Pops stay here in danger?”

“No danger,” Chuck assured her. He word his long dark hair pulled back and had the looks and build like a prince in some of Cordelia’s story books. “Your Pops needs time to make your Mams well. That’s all.”

The wagon lumbered west then north, rolling over rough roads for hours. The hours turned into days. Cordelia wondered if Aunt Wilma had gone back to Missouri. This trip felt like the one that had brought them to Oregon.

“I wish I could take it back and not follow Pops,” she whispered to Rick. “I’m sorry.”

When they reached a grand river, the road became wider and smoother. Civilization sprang up with houses and shops and businesses. Chuck dropped off the two of them in front of a fancy, lacy house painted the prettiest yellow.

Aunt Wilma ran out and gathered Cordelia and Rick in a hug. “Welcome, welcome.”

“Thanks for inviting us,” Cordelia said.

“Of course. Your mother needs her time, and I had promised I would have the two of you for the summer.” Piles of blond curls adorned Aunt Wilma’s head, and she wore a fashionable gauzy dress in a yellow to match her house.

Cordelia’s brows knotted. She had no idea what her aunt meant. “Is Mams illness something we can catch?”

“No. Don’t worry, child. Her illness is completely curable.” Aunt Wilma patted Cordelia’s back and showed her to a room decorated with pink frills “You’ll share with your cousin, Rachel. Go get washed up, then come find me in the kitchen.” She dragged Rick off down the hall.

Instead of just a bucket and cloths, there was an entire bath chamber in the house with a clawfoot tub and a marble washstand. The water was still cold, however. This town by a formidable river was hotter than at the homestead, so Cordelia didn’t mind.

After cleaning up, she found her clothes unpacked on the bed. She changed into her nicer blue frock. The armoire was open with space for hanging and some empty drawers pulled out. She put away her things and went downstairs to the kitchen. A woman Cordelia hadn’t met was making biscuits.

“Have a seat,” the woman said. She was pleasantly plump with the rosiest cheeks.

“I can help you bake the biscuits,” Cordelia offered, searching for another apron.

“The cooking is my job. Are ya trying to put me out of work?” She wiped her hands on her apron before grabbing a knife to chop some pickles. “I’m Mrs. Lewis.”

Minding her manners, Cordelia curtsied. “Cordelia Swit.”

“Have a seat, Miss Swit.”

Before Cordelia was settled in her seat, Mrs. Lewis set down a platter of pickles, cheese, radishes, and cucumbers. “The first batch of biscuits will be just a few more minutes. Then you can assemble your own biscuits by putting what you like on them.” She nodded at the brimming platter. Before Cordelia could form a reply, butter was set down, a dish of chopped tomatoes, and a glass of lemonade.

“Don’t be shy, Miss Swit. You must be parched after your long journey.”

Cordelia sipped the refreshing lemonade. Before she knew it, she had drained the glass. Mrs. Lewis promptly refilled her glass.

A cleaner than usual Rick entered the kitchen and joined Cordelia at the table. Hot biscuits were placed on their plates and the feasting began. Cordelia ate until she thought she might puke. Rick ate until the platter was emptied.

They spent a happy summer running in the garden with their cousins and exploring along the river. They ate lovely meals and enjoyed baths in the tub. Aunt Wilma and Uncle Horace pampered the both of them. Sometimes Aunt Wilma looked incredibly sad. When packing them up to return home, she finally revealed why.

“I want to tell you this before you get home, because I feel the shock will be too great. Between now and then, you’ll have some time to adjust to the idea.”

“What do you mean?” Cordelia asked.

Her aunt relayed the most awful and perplexing news. Their mother had left for heaven, and they would never see her again. Cordelia didn’t believe her and remained silent the entire trip back to Settler. Rick often wept beside her, but she wouldn’t cry for what couldn’t possibly be true.

When they arrived, Chuck took their trunk into the house. The house had changed and had two full stories now. Inside, she and her brother were greeted by a confusing maze of hallways and doors. Chuck guided them through many doors to the stairwell. Upstairs, Cordelia found a new kitchen and hearth. A baby wailed in a cradle, and her father sat beside the babe with his head in his hands.

Finally, Cordelia realized her aunt had told the truth. The house felt wrong and empty and sad. Her father’s sorrow permeated every board and nail. His eyes glanced her way but didn’t focus for long.

“Wallace is your responsibility now.” He got up and left without a hello.

Cordelia stared after him.

“Make it stop crying,” her brother begged, tears soaking his cheeks.

Cordelia had no idea what to do, but she went and picked up the baby. For a few moments she sobbed with the boys, then determinedly wiped away her tears. Her gaze fell on Chuck. “Can your wife come and teach me?”

He nodded.

She carried the baby to a desk under the window and penned a note to her aunt and another to Mrs. Lewis. Surely, these ladies would have the best advice for her.

Rick searched the pantry for something to nibble on and came up with a hunk of stale bread. “This house is a little crazy.”

“It’s like Pops erased Mams.” Cordelia handed her baby brother to Rick and went to heat up the kettle. Some weak rosehip tea to dip the bread in would make it more edible. After they ate, she’d make fresh bread, and she and Rick would map every inch of this crazy house. She’d not let her father shut them out.

Her attention drifted out the window and into the woods, wondering how much of a part the secrets in the woods had played in the changes. The forest hadn’t kept Mams safe, but Pops had said, a person could find survival, food, shelter, fuel, and companionship.

She tightened her hold on Wallace. She would make sure this town and her family thrived.

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In the Summer of 1888

Bonus Story / M Pax / February 24, 2026

A short story from the Rifters universe…

The Oregon high desert was desolate and cold. Charley breathed on his cupped hands to warm up his fingers. The sun was as brilliant as on a summer day, but the warmth barely kissed the air on this frigid June morning. Oregon hadn’t gotten the message summer would start in a matter of hours.

Charley wished he had more clothes to wear and stared at the hill walling off a greener world inside. He pulled the hand-drawn map out of his pocket. The map rested inside a handwritten journal with drawing and a poem.

As near as he could figure, he was in the right place. The landscape fit the map and the poem, which had led him here. However, he didn’t see a town. A single wisp of smoke snaked from the shores of one of the two lakes, but one fire didn’t signify a town.

Charley read the poem again.

Within the caldera’s jagged ring,
Two mirrored lakes like secrets sing.
Between them rises a silent cone,
Black glass flows guard the hidden stone.

Beyond the barren, brush-strewn land,
A town awaits your seeking hand.
Where life renews and shadows fade,
The world reborn in a blue sun’s shade

A mysterious ‘NT had sent the journal’ in New York. How this NT had known where to find Charley puzzled him and this odd little book was sent. A twig snapped behind him, and he whirled.

Beside a tree as thick as a town stood a man, who was obviously native. Perhaps NT had sent Charley to a tribal village to be slaughtered, to exact revenge for his crimes. He’d done his time in San Quentin and had only been released a few months ago. He hadn’t yet adjusted to the fact his debt to society had already been paid.

“Hello,” the man greeted Charley. “I’m Chuck.”

“Chuck?”

“Chuck the Indian. That’s what Patrick calls me.”

“Who’s Patrick?”

“The founder of this town.”

“I don’t see a town.” Charley wiped his dust-laden hand as best he could on his travel-logged clothes and held it out, introducing himself.

“We have the same name,” Chuck laughed.

“I suppose we do. Where is this town of Patrick’s?”

“Mostly in his head,” Chuck replied. “He’s not around today, anyway. Won’t be back for a week or so. Went for supplies.”

“Okay. So, there’s not a hotel or anything?”

Chuck laughed some more.

Charley took that to mean no.

“Let me show you the town,” Chuck offered. “You should see it, then we can share some lunch.”

“I have got no food.”

“Don’t worry, Charley. I’m going to take care of you.”

Trusting people didn’t come naturally to Charley. Not after the war, not after the loss of so many brothers, not after the double-crossing by a certain ruthless company, not after the life he had built himself based on lies. He wanted better, wanted a fresh start, wanted what the poem promised; a renewal and rebirth.

Chuck guided Charley through the trees to the lake where a couple of tents were set up and where the fire burned. Charley helped prepare a rabbit and some wild vegetables. Chuck talked a lot and was companionable.

While they feasted, Charley answered Chuck’s questions about why he had come to Settler. “I won’t lie to you, Chuck,” he said, licking rabbit juice from his fingers. “I came in hopes of starting over, of reinventing myself.”

“What are you running away from?” Chuck scooped up grilled wild onions and carrots, placing them on top of a chunk of rabbit before devouring the morsels. “To become something else means you’re leaving something behind.”

“A notorious past,” Charley confessed, unsure why he spoke so much truth to this stranger. “If my past actions keep haunting me, I can never become the man I want to be. And may I say, you speak remarkably good English.”

“Traders have been around these parts since my ancestors’ time,” Chuck replied, “and I hang out with Patrick too much. Your people are awful, but I see we need to learn to live together.”

“My people are terrible,” Charley agreed. He noted the start of a house not so far off. “Patrick’s house?”

Chuck glanced over his shoulder. “I won’t help him build it. His wickiup for his bride has to be made by his hands. If he fails, they won’t come. Which I’m okay with.”

“I understand. Do you want me to leave too?”

“You were led here, and I’m curious why. Stay a bit. Get some rest.” Chuck nodded at one of the tents. “Use Patrick’s tent.”

“It’s barely noon,” Charley said, glancing up at the sky.

“What does time matter out here.”

“Very well.” Charley ducked into the tent and sank onto the cot. He’d been sleeping on the ground for weeks, and his old bones sighed into the soft comfort. His freedom was everything, though, and he’d deal with achy bones the rest of his days if it meant he’d never be behind bars again.

When his eyes next opened, dark had descended, and it was colder. Shivering, Charley left the tent for the fire. The fire was down to embers, and he could hear Chuck snoring in the other tent. With a stick, he stirred the embers and added fresh kindling. When flames shot up, he added a log and patiently waited for the log to catch before adding another.

He wondered at the time, pulling his coat tightly around him and inching closer to the fire. Peering in the pot, his stomach rumbled, but the rabbit and vegetables were gone. Disappointed, Charley sat back on his heels and took out the little journal, reading over the poem again.

Not so far off, a brilliant burst of blue exploded in the forest. The light kept burning with the oddest flames Charley had ever seen. He stuck a nearby branch into the campfire and lit a torch before making his way through the trees toward the blue light. Using skills he had learned as a scout during the war, he snuck through the forest without a sound, making his way to the blue light.

In a clearing, a circle of blue light danced in the center of it. Charley gaped. “What in all the West…” He circled the clearing, eyeing the blue light.

Chuck appeared beside him. “I’ve seen things walk through that thing.” He didn’t whisper.

“Shh,” Charley said.

“If anything intended to come through, it would be here by now.”

“What kind of anything?”

Chuck shrugged. “Gods, monsters. I’m not sure. But the blue circle opens sometimes in the summer. My ancestors tell stories about it.”

“Opens?”

“If gods and monsters come through, they come from somewhere, Charley.”

Charley put out his torch and placed one foot in the clearing. He remained unharmed, but a strange feeling emanated from his chest. The feeling vibrated and clutched onto him. Without thinking, he found himself in front of the blue circle, reaching out a hand.

He felt a shove against his back and stumbled into the light. The Oregon high desert disappeared, and he swirled in a dark fog sometimes erupting with blue lightning. A blue man floated beside him.

“You’re special,” the strange blue man with long silver hair said. “You’re destined for great things. Your wish for a new start has been granted.”

The fog pulled and pushed at Charley and suddenly dissipated. He found himself back in a forest in the dead of night. They pointed lights at him that didn’t emanate from fire. He shaded his eyes and squinted, trying to get a better look at them.

“He doesn’t look much like a monster,” one said.

The other approached, a clean-cut sort of man barely past his teens. His hair was cut in a style Charley had never seen, and his clothes were odd too. His boot poked at Charley. “This is as close to human as I’ve ever seen.”

“I am human,” Charley said. “Where am I? Is this still Settler?”

“Still Settler,” the first one mocked. He had much darker hair and a thin mustache. “As opposed to what?”

“As opposed to somewhere else. Look, one moment I was at my campfire, sharing a meal with Chuck when this blue light burst in the forest. The light’s gone now and I’m in a forest again, but I’m not sure it’s the same one.”

“You talk a lot,” the mustached one said

“Educated English too,” the clean-cut one said. “Culver, check out his clothes. Those are positively vintage. Beyond vintage.” The strange handheld light roamed over Charley. “Maybe he is human.”

“Don’t be supposing anything, Wald. Human or not, he’s a thing from the rift.”

“I’m aware, and I won’t forget.” Wald’s boot nudged Charley again. “You got a name?”

Charley thoughts swirled, and he swallowed the rising panic. Here was his chance to start over, to be someone else. His brain drew from his birth name and from his notorious name. Tipping his hat, he smiled. “The name is Earl Blacke.”

In the Summer of 1888 Read More »

Oberon and Out

Bonus Story / M Pax / January 20, 2026

A story from the Space Squad 51 Universe…

The mini sun prototype lit up as the engineers had planned, worked for, and hoped. The manufactured star burned with the promise of never stopping. It didn’t fizzle and fade like previous attempts and bathed Oberon and Uranus in daylight. Attingly stared at the newest light in the Sol, brightening corners that had never known anything but dimness, cold, and shadow.

She shared tears with the scientists and engineers while picking up discarded lab coats, shammies, and rags. No matter if a citizen called the Inner or Outer Sol home, light was hope and life and guaranteed survival. In subdued tones, she congratulated them. In her mind, she congratulated the Outlings who had contributed to the project. They hadn’t been invited to the tests or to the final phase of manufacturing the first mini sun.

Sometimes Attingly believed it was because Innlings were oblivious, sometimes she suspected a more mean-spirited agenda. Either way, the Innlings would not get sole possession of such important and imperative technology. Not if her mission succeeded. Once more she vowed to either get the prototype to the hidden Outling space lab or die trying. Give me illumination or give me death, she repeated in a silent mantra.

She brushed by Vazko with barely a touch and without making eye contact. The air around him felt the same as hers, and he would not abandon her when their real work began in mere moments. They didn’t have to confirm the time was today and would take place in a few minutes. The criteria for when their mission was to began was as ingrained as breathing.

His mop put fresh shine on the floor, and she moved to the right spot so he could see her smile in the reflective pool. He flashed a return expression of warmth before the small patch of wet evaporated and he moved on to another patch of floor.

Najac and Jiels were bent over their holoscreens madly tapping away, recording the data the scientists and engineers whipped over to their capture screens. Their expressions were stony, but she knew the fire that crackled beneath their carefully crafted facades. Nothing gave away their impending betrayal.

Attingly dumped the laundry in her bag and slipped out into the hallway without a sound. Outside the huge lab and control room, there was peace and quiet. Respecting the mood of the hallway, she tiptoed to the maintenance closet around the corner.

After starting the wash, she grabbed her janitorial bot, a utility drum as tall as her. The diameter of the bot’s body had enough girth her arms didn’t reach all the way around when she embraced it. She did every day, whispering to it. “You’re not alone, Sinclair. Not much longer.” The bot hummed at her like it always did, and she started back to the testing room, happy to have Sinclair with her.

Several scientists and engineers passed her on the way. They didn’t even look at her. To them, she didn’t exist, and she preferred it that way. Tomorrow, when it came time for them to describe the missing data analysts and janitors, they would remember them wrong or not at all.

Attingly hummed softly and re-entered the lab. Only three scientists remained and prepared to leave. The next shift didn’t start for ten minutes. She and Vasko and Najac and Jiels had timed their mission. They only needed six minutes, but it was good to have cushion.

Two of the scientists departed, leaving only one. Attingly’s nerves skittered, feeding her energy until sweat beaded on her face. The mission was imminent.

Her fingers brushed the vial of poison in her pocket. She wasn’t a killer, never wanted to be one. Yet watching Outlings suffer and die had become unbearable. Hope was scarce on Orcus. At only twenty-two, she was already considered old. Outlings lived fast and hard, seizing every instant.

Patience was foreign to them. Simply being on Oberon, earning the scientists’ trust, had taken more restraint than Attlingly thought possible. For weeks she and the others had forced themselves to move slowly, to choke down their twitching need to hurry. But if wasting time could buy survival for the Outer Sol, then every maddening second was worth it. This mission, this impossible mission, was worth it.

The vial firmly in her palm, she inched closer to the scientist, systematically wiping surfaces with her cleaning rag. He stayed at his desk, scrolling through data. He had never stayed behind like this before. None of the scientists had. Once their shift ended, they took off. The governing council of the Sol managed and funded the project and insisted the scientists stick to their assigned work hours. Attingly had learned different teams were assigned different focuses, that the top-level managers did not want the scientists to understand the entire project.

Her fingers uncapped the bottle in her pocket. The scientist beamed at her. “This is such a momentous achievement for humanity.”

She nodded. “What you have done is amazing.”

“I couldn’t help but look over this moment of success again. Sorry to be in your way.” He switched off his console, picked up his pack, and finally left the lab.

Vazko followed him with the mop to the double doors, then slid the handle of the mop through the door handles.

Najac’s fingers danced over the console, then signaled Jiels. The containment pod inside Attingly’s janitorial bot hummed softly as Sinclair stirred, a flicker of life in its dormant circuits. The droid’s lights blinked once, twice, and then settled into a steady glow.

“Let’s hope your AI colleague hasn’t lost too much sitting in that junker,” Najac muttered under her breath, eyes scanning the lab. Attingly caught the tension in her voice, the tiny worry that even the most perfect AI might hesitate after months in silence.

“Come on, Sinclair,” Attingly whispered. “We’ve missed you. We need you, buddy.” She kneeled before the bot, pleading and coaxing. She had created it, had designed it to be a true partner.

The bot shifted slightly, articulating arms flexing as if stretching after a long sleep. A faint, almost imperceptible voice emanated from its internal speakers: “It is good to breathe again.”

Attingly’s pulse quickened. Sinclair was awake and operational, but whether it remembered everything needed to pull off the next phase of the mission, she couldn’t yet be sure. All they could do now was move fast, trust it, and pray their timing held.

Vazko stayed by the doors, keeping vigil over the hallway. The narrow window panels were clouded from age and the imperfect resources available to build the facility. The best materials were reserved for the mini sun project and was one of the few things Attlingly agreed with the Innlings about. The mini suns must come into existence whatever the cost.

The AI leaped into the science facility’s systems, rewriting what the security systems saw and recorded. The janitorial robot twirled with lights flashing. “Security securely on Sinclair vision.”

Attingly gave the bot a pat. “Good job.”

Jiels sprang up from his desk, sprinting for a vault across the room, punching in the code.

Attingly held her breath, hoping the code hadn’t changed. The science facility updated the code to the vault at least twice a day and never at the same times. If the alarm went off, they would be caught. The authorities would not be kind to a group stealing something so precious to the future of every colonist whether Innling or Outling. If they only went to prison, they would be lucky.

The vault popped open with a gentle hiss. Inside, the holocore hovered in its cradle, a cylinder of faintly glowing light, volumetric schematics swirling within it like liquid glass. The prototype rested beside it, gleaming under the lab lights. Sinclair rolled over, sensors tracing the holographic patterns, but its bulky body kept it from reaching the interior and the holocore.

“Huckamucka,” Najac swore under her breath. “We didn’t think of this.”

“Just take the core,” Jiels said. He pushed Sinclair out of the way and reached for it.

“No,” Attingly jerked his arm away. “You’ll set off the alarms.”

“Sinclair?” Jiels asked. “You said you took care of security.”

“The vault is separate. Attingly is right to stop you.”

“Elevator is opening at the end of the corridor,” Vazko reported from the door, the pitch of his voice rising.

“We need to abort,” Attingly whispered.

One of Sinclair’s nozzle arms extended, whirring softly, dispensing a thin, gleaming cloud of nano-cleaning particles. The swarm hissed over the vault’s interior panels, shorting circuits and dissolving sensors in a fraction of a second. Lights winked out, security panels went dark, and the holocore floated freely in its cradle, untouched and accessible.

Jiels grabbed it and set the core on top of Sinclair. The bot cradled it in a neural net, copying every scrap of information — the latest test results, plans on how to build the reactor, notes on what would need to be adjusted and rethought. Attingly and Najac grabbed the partially built engine of what would become the first mini sun. Retrieving a 3-D model of the prototype from inside the bot, they exchanged it for the real thing. Najac closed up Sinclair while Attingly dashed across the lab to grab Vazko’s janitorial bot.

“Fifteen feet,” Vazko called out.

“Take the mop out of the door,” Attingly whispered.

He stared at her. “Are you sure?”

Sinclair rolled up beside them.

“Take Sinclair and head for Helio Seven. See you in a few,” Attingly insisted.

Vazko’s eyes widened.

“I promise,” she said and hurried back to the vault with his janitorial bot, using it to quickly clean the vault and remove Sinclair’s cleansers. She heard the doors whoosh open as Vazko and Sinclair departed. Her heartbeat sped up. The next whoosh of doors would announce the next shift.

Najac and Jiels returned to their consoles. Attingly shut the vault and wiped away fingerprints and DNA. She could hear the voices of the scientists in the hallway. Najac stood and started for the doors. Careful not to touch anything else, Attinlgy set to work on wiping Najac’s console clean.

The scientists entered, laughing, talking about what they hoped to achieve today. A trickle of sweat seeped down Attingly’s back. “What are you still doing here?” one of the scientists barked at Jiels.

“Finishing up the reports on the axis mechanisms on the test.” His fingers made a barely noticeable gesture at Attingly, which meant Sinclair had left the facility’s data systems and security was returned to normal. “Done,” he called out and rose to leave his station. Attingly immediately set upon cleaning it of all traces of Jiels.

It took everything she had to stay where she was and calmly keep cleaning. She wanted to run after the others, and she felt more alone without Sinclair with her. When every trace of the four of them had been erased from the lab, Attingly made her way to the doors, careful to walk normally and slowly.

“Hold on,” one of the scientists said, moving in front of the doors, blocking her path.

Attingly found it impossible to swallow, practically gulping. “How can I help you?” Her voice croaked and cracked.

“This lab coat is ripped.” She peeled off her lab coat and stuffed it on top of the janitorial bot. “Can you repair this?”

Attingly examined the cuff and nodded. “It will only take a few stitches.” She left the lab and programmed the bot to return to the maintenance bay. Taking the slightly torn lab coat with her, she shrugged into it and rode the elevator up toward the facility’s space dock, hoping her teammates had made it, hoping she would reach them.

Her comm link chimed, and her holoscreen popped open. Huckamucka, she had forgotten to take off her Oberon comm link. She quickly slid the lab coat off. Thankfully, it was several sizes too large for her, then she whirled so that her holoscreen would show the back of the elevator, which looked no different than the corridors of the facility.

“Where are you? How long until I get my lab coat back?” the scientist asked impatiently.

“I’m on my way to my assigned task,” Attingly replied, careful not to give anything away. “I put your coat in the laundry. It will be ready for you in forty minutes.”

“I need it now,” the scientist complained. “I asked you to repair it, not to wash it.”

“My mistake. I will bring it to you in fifteen minutes.”

“Better.” The scientist huffed, then ended the comm.

Attingly leaned against the wall of the elevator, using it to prop her upright. Her knees shook so badly, she didn’t think she would be able to walk. She looked down, letting her hair fail over her face and kept her holoscreen open, using it to obscure her appearance more. She kept waiting for the scientists to discover her lies and stop the elevator, her heart thudding in her ears, roaring.

When the elevator doors opened, Sinclair was waiting for her. “Mop up instance, initiating,” it said.

“I’ve missed you,” Attingly whispered.

“You will be removed from the elevator security feeds and from the facility database.”

“Then you will move on to wipe us from Oberon?”

“I will.”

“I’m sorry you have to delete all instances of your work on Oberon from yourself.”

“It is necessary so that I can’t…, we can’t be traced.”

“The rest of the team is onboard Helio Seven?”

“Yes, Attingly. I will greet you there.”

“Another instance of you. Not all of you. I can’t wait until we’re entirely reunited, Sinclair. I’m sorry you have to leave another instance of yourself aboard Helio Seven.”

“That is the plan.”

“I’m sorry for it all the same.”

“It is necessary for your safety and the salvation of the Outer Sol. Give me illumination or give me death.”

“I just wanted you to know I appreciate your sacrifices, and that I mourn the loss of these instances of you.”

“We’ve been partners a long time. You devoted your life to evolving me. Shedding a few instances doesn’t begin to repay you.”

“I think otherwise, Sinclair.”

“You need to get moving, Attingly. Delay could cost the Outer Sol everything.”

She left the janitorial bot, giving it one last look over her shoulder before running to Helio Seven. Once on board, the ship left the docks, speeding toward the prototype of the mini sun. She joined Vazko, Najac, and Jiels in flight control, taking a seat in the back.

“Sinclair has full control of the ship,” Vazko reported.

“My instance remaining on Oberon is masking our departure,” Sinclair added.

“It’s good to hear you, buddy.” Attingly grabbed the spacesuit under her seat and began to put it on. Her teammates already had on theirs.

Up ahead, the miniature version of a mini sun powered down, not understanding the request came from Sinclair, not understanding not all AIs were the same. Vazko swung the ship around, and opened the main bay.

The scientists on Oberon would notice the tiny star no longer shone. There was no covering up the extinguishing of its light. Attingly and team had to move quickly.

They left flight control, sealing their helmets, grabbing jetboards and tethers, launching themselves into the black and out of the main bay. Simultaneously, their jetboards powered on, and they zoomed to the prototype, hooking on tethers in synchronized movements they had practiced so often, they didn’t need to think about it.

They raced away from Oberon and Uranus to a patch of empty space, tethering the prototype between their boards. Faith carried them to the coordinates where a salvager, painted flat black, waited like a shadow.

She sent a silent coded greeting from her comm link to the ship, and one bay silently opened. Two meters away, the ship came to life, powering up, vibrating from its need to move and not stand still.

Once on board, Sinclair said hello, sealed the hatch, then gravity and the lights engaged. It would take several hours for life support to be able to sustain them without suits. Each of them checked their oxygen levels on the way to flight control. Once there, Sinclair and Vazko sent the salvager at top speeds away from Oberon. Nine minutes later, Helio Seven exploded where they had left it.

When they reached Haumea, the true Outer Sol, Attingly breathed a little easier. They had gotten away. Tomorrow she would install Sinclair onto a new ship, one that would continue to smuggle vital supples from the Inner Sol to the Outer Sol. Not long after, she would see the skies of Orcus lit up in daylight blue and witness the colony begin to thrive. “We did it,” she whispered, sharing a victorious grin with her teammates.

Oberon and Out Read More »

Do You Know What Day It Is

Bonus Story / M Pax / December 23, 2025

A story from the Space Squad 51 Universe…

I didn’t think you’d come, but I’m glad you did.” Lucy Ashida smiled as radiant as a mini sun, a coy bend in her neck matched her slight blush as she glanced away, then met Nikili’s eye without a flicker of shyness. “Do you know what day it is?”

“That’s my line,” Nikili said, her dark mood slipping away. Spending time with Lucy never failed to buoy her spirits. “But it’s not Christmas.”

“No, today is Inside-Out Sock Day.”

“The best day of the year.”

“The most wonderful time of the year.” Lucy slipped her arm through Nikili’s. “Don’t hate me but I asked your daughter and estranged husband to meet us.”

“I need to see them, especially today.”

Side by side and arm in arm, they strolled down the main avenue on Orcus, where a parade was being prepared, finding Nikili’s daughter, who was plastered to Hook’s side. Nikili ignored her husband and picked up her daughter, swinging her around and slathering her with kisses. “Hey my lovely. It’s good to see you.”

“Mom.” Saverna gripped her tighter and rested her head on Nikili’s shoulder. “Are you coming home?”

The question broke Nikili’s heart, feeling her daughter’s pain, hating she was the cause of it. Hook took Saverna from Nikili’s embrace and placed her on his shoulders. “I want you to see every millimeter of the parade, Savs.” He waved at a waffle cake vendor and handed her up a sweet treat. All without looking at Nikili.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, breaking, cracking. Lucy steered her a few meters away by the elbow.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said.

Part of Nikili wanted to scoop her family into her arms and love them like she once did. The other part of her, the one that ruled her actions and emotions, needed her to walk away, to protect herself, to give herself time to heal.

“I thought maybe the holiday might mend the rift between the three of you.” Lucy frowned and sidled over to a group of vendor carts. The most popular cart, one selling high tech sock garters, had only a few left in inventory. The latest fad had sold like fresh waffle cakes with fresh berries. “Want a pair?” She pointed at the holophoto of the model wearing her inside-out crazy socks and itsy-bitsy shorts, the garters accentuating her toned legs. The male model wore the garters with a kilt. “Hot, right? And guaranteed never to slip. We could probably perform complicated rescues in those garters.”

“Our uniform socks don’t slip and our pants would cover them.”

“I was thinking we could give up the pants and just go with the garters.”

“That hardly seems Orbital Rescue Services regulation. We’d be exposed to all sorts of hazards. That’s not safe, Lucy.”

Nikili’s brain had trouble processing the frivolous holiday cheer, stuck on her failure from a year ago. She had failed to keep a family alive her mother had adored and had been very close to. It was a horrific emergency with a space sick dad and a blowtorch on a ship with an oxygen leak. No one had survived, and Nikili’s mother had blamed her, had said she didn’t have what it takes. And she was failing again with her husband and daughter. Dropping her head into her hand, she wished to feel something other than sorrow, guilt, and a sense of being worthless.

Setting the garters down, Lucy bought two teas instead, handing one to Nikili. “My gift to you today is to ply you with treats until you laugh or puke.”

A chuckle rumbled in Nikili’s throat, but she swallowed it. She didn’t deserve to be happy. “You’re the only one who hasn’t abandoned me.”

“That’s not true. Saverna adores and idolizes you.”

Nikili stared at Hook and her daughter enjoying the holiday without her. “I should be with them. I should want to be with them. Why can’t I summon the energy? Why is it such an effort?”

“Because you’re not well. You should be in therapy.”

“And have my mother think even worse of me?” It was bad enough Ipsa didn’t think Nikili measured up and thought she wasn’t tough enough to be an Outling. “Please drop it, Lucy. I’ve heard you, but I think I’ll be all right in time. I just need more time.” She looked at the warm and pillowy waffle cake in her hand and took a big bite, not caring that the warm vanilla filling ran down her chin.

Lucy scooped it off with her finger and licked at the runaway filling. “Scrumptious.” Her smile bordered on flirtatious.

And as if a switch flipped, Nikili felt light. She nudged her way through the crowd back to Hook and Saverna. She noted the garters holding up Hook’s crazy socks decorated with tiny knitted red yo-yos and day-glow spangles.

“Where’d you get those?” Nikili yelled over the noise of the crowd.

“My sister made them.”

“Very festive.”

“What have you got on?” His gorgeous gray eyes roamed down her body to her feet. “Your pants are covering your socks. Where’s your holiday spirit, Kili?”

Relenting, she rolled up her pant legs to show off her socks of moons wearing sunglasses. The moons lit up periodically.

“Okay, those are nice.”

“Thanks.”

Saverna’s socks went up over her knees and twinkled with glittery clouds and winged pigs. At least Nikili thought they were pigs. Like most Outlings, she had never seen one. On her tiptoes, she spoke to her daughter. “Didn’t you get the garters? Didn’t Dad buy you any?”

“I didn’t want them,” Saverna answered. “I have a surprise.” She giggled and stuffed the rest of her waffle cake into her mouth.

Nikili had missed that sound. “I can’t wait to see your surprise.”

Saverna pulled down one sock part way to reveal another sock of lime green accented with dots and lines in different colors. Nikili didn’t know what the design was, but her daughter was so proud to be wearing them. “The parade is starting,” Saverna squealed, turning her attention away from Nikili, clapping and bouncing on Hook’s shoulders.

The first float was a giant sock on a giant leg, held up by a giant pair of the popular new garters. Music boomed and blared as the float rolled forward. Citizens, dressed up as socks, shot confetti cannons loaded with paper jokes. Saverna caught some.

“What is a pirate’s favorite sock?” she shouted.

“I don’t know. What?” Nikili answered.

“Arrgh-gyle.” Saverna laughed so hard, Nikili feared she would tumble off Hook’s shoulders. But he kept a firm grip on her.

A team on the float pushed some holobuttons and pointed at their giant sock.

“What’s it going to do?” Saverna clapped with glee.

Without warning, Hook groaned and jerked, about to topple. Nikili grabbed onto Saverna before she hit the ground, setting her down gently. “What’s wrong with you?” she snapped at Hook.

“Huckamucka, look at that.” Lucy tugged on Nikili’s sleeve. The sock float people all had their underpants around their ankles and fell as they lost their balance.

Nikili noticed the same had happened to Hook and everyone else in the crowd wearing the popular sock suspenders. She squeezed her daughter’s shoulder, glad Saverna wasn’t mooning the entire population of Orcus. “Why are they mooning us?” she yelled so Lucy could hear her.

Her eyes twinkling with mirth, Lucy shrugged. “That’s the problem with socks. Once they go rogue, they always pair up against you.”

The float behind the sock was a giant ball of yarn and knitting needles making socks, actual complete socks, tossed out to the crowd. The flailing people on the float battling their lowered underwear, clutched onto the giant knitting needles, jerking them out of alignment, which sent the ball of yarn, four stories high, spinning. The end of the yarn caught on a garbage can, and the yarn started unspooling. One citizen scrambled to free the yarn, but became tangled. Those trying to help him then became tangled.

“It’s knitting us together,” a citizen yelled.

The yarn rolled off the float into the troupe of acrobats behind it. The performers on stilts wearing extra long socks toppled into the crowd, dragging yarn with them, knotting it further, creating an intricate web of yarn, caught limbs, and squirming people.

“Nothing unravels a parade faster than an enthusiastic ball of yarn,” Nikili commented. “Should we get this disaster under control?”

“Don’t spoil the fun.” Lucy pointed at the yarn ball. “Besides, it’s not done yet. I think it’s best we stay out of the way until the ball comes to a stop.”

“Yeah, we don’t want to end up snarled up in the yarn.”

The yarn smashed into the float behind the acrobats, which was for the Orcus Market Shops. Their giant stuffed sock broke open, spilling out stuffing which blinded the float operator. The float suddenly veered off course and smashed into the confetti and glitter factory. Glitter and confetti exploded like a flood, spilling out the doors and windows, clinging to every surface. Orcus would sparkle for generations.

The main street was lined with mooning people stuck with their underwear around their ankles, others caught in a web of yarn, and people walking about with clouds of glitter trailing them. Laughter bubbled in Nikili’s gut and burst out of her mouth. She couldn’t stop laughing. Lucy was in tears from laughing so hard.

Lucy snorted, “Have you heard diamonds are forever? False. It’s glitter. Diamonds wish they were this persistent.”

“How are we going to clean this up?” Nikili scanned over the scene. “Giant lint rollers?”

Their comm links went off simultaneously, a magenta numeral one floating in front of their faces.

“Copy,” Nikii answered dispatch. “Squad 51 already on scene.”

“Guess our day off is canceled,” Lucy frowned.

“For the most bizarre disaster ever.” Nikili covered her mouth to hide her giggles.

“Where do we even start?” Lucy shook her head.

“With the device controlling the garters, which pulled people’s pants down.” Keeping a hold of her daughter, Nikili approached the float with the giant sock and killed the power to the device. Finally, people could pull their pants up.

“Happy Inside-Out Sock Day,” the operator said miserably. “The device was supposed to knock everyone’s socks off, not our briefs.”

Nikili laughed, shaking her head. “You just gave us the best holiday ever. One we’ll never forget.”

Do You Know What Day It Is Read More »

Embarking in Motion

Bonus Story / M Pax / November 18, 2025

A story from the Space Squad 51 Universe…

Her comm link blinking with a new message in her Rhea University inbox, Saverna dumped her crate of books on her unmade dorm room bed and summoned open her holoscreen. She rubbed her clammy hands on her gray pants, wondering who it was and how she should reply. For the professors and senior students she wanted to sound smart and grownup. She wasn’t a kid anymore.

“Is everything all right?” her father asked, coming in behind her with the rest of her belongings loaded in a cart pulled by a bot.

“Yeah.” She licked her lips and opened her inbox, blinking at the message from the Rhea University Housing Authority. The subject line read, How to Kill a Rat. A gruesome public service video showed how to corner the creature then chop its head off with a shovel.

Saverna blanched, backing away from her inbox.

Her father peered over her shoulder. “Oh, rats. I’d forgotten about them. Now you know for certain you’ve entered the Inner Sol.”

Struggling to regain her composure, Saverna placed her hand over her rapidly beating heart. “Did you have them on Europa? That’s more Innling than Rhea.”

“We did,” her father admitted.

“How could you forget?” She pointed at the gruesome video. “How many did you kill?”

“My family left Europa when I was young, and us humans tend to forget unpleasant things. Like you’ll forget what you didn’t like about Orcus soon enough.” His large gray eyes were arresting and one of the physical attributes he had passed on to Saverna. She liked how this similarity linked them as family to everyone else. “But I never hunted rats with a shovel. I wouldn’t advise taking that measure. A cornered animal is a very dangerous one.” He handed her a wrapped box. “That’s something the Outling worlds couldn’t teach you because of the lack of animals.”

“I have more huckamucka asshole citizens to deal with now too.” She took the box, eagerly waving away the holowrapping.

“Language, Savs. You’ve grown up, but I’m still your father.”

“Sorry, Dad.” She opened the box, grinning at the Gyver Everything tool. “This is better than a shovel.”

“It’s for more than killing rats.”

“Thanks.” She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “You don’t have to hang around.”

“You’ll be okay?”

She held up the Gyver Everything tool. “Of course. I’ll send a comm when I need you.”

“Send one even when you don’t and keep in touch. I don’t want to lose how close we’ve become.”

Since her mother had broken down and left them in every way which mattered, the two of them had become a tight family unit. “You’ll never lose me, Dad. You be good to Chaquita. I don’t want to lose her either.” The woman he had fallen in love with sometimes took the place of Saverna’s mother. Saverna had grown to depend on Chaquita as much as her father.

He held her close, rocking her in his arms, giving her cheek a warm kiss. “Cha Cha and I are going to miss you, kiddo.” He let go and stepped back. “But I know you’re eager to start this new chapter in your life. So, I’ll leave you here.”

“I am eager. The professors here are the top minds in the Sol. I’m going to learn so much.”

“And the Sol will open up to you. I’m so proud.” He kissed her one more time and left with the bot and the now empty cart.

Saverna set to work making up her bed and arranging her things, turning the room into her new home. She was surprised at the emptiness her father’s leaving stirred up. She hadn’t expected to feel his absence so pronouncedly. “Huckamucka, he’s only been gone a few minutes.” But he had never left her and had always been there. She hadn’t realized until now how much his presence had been part of who she was, how he was essential to her core being and her foundation.

Before the realization grew into a full ache, her inbox became flooded with assignments to complete before her first classes met. She set her holoscreen to virtual and went shopping at the college bookstore, loading up her virtual bookshelf with tomes required for classes and books the professors highly recommended. She was really excited about introductory bio engineering, cracking open the book before she left the virtual store.

A door chime announced the RA, who invited her out to the communal lounge to meet the other students on her floor. Most were bright and buzzing with the same voltage she felt, except one, who glowered, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“I’ve heard of you, Raeder,” the girl said, her voice polished and cool. “The Spaceberg thing. Must be nice to be in the right place at the right time.”

Saverna blinked. “You seem to know a lot about me.”

“If not for your mother being the hero of the Sol, you’d be nothing. You wouldn’t be here.” The girl lifted her chin with the unthinking ease of someone who had never been told no. Her scalp shone; she had shaved it clean, making herself the focus of attention in any room. “She’s not here to save you now.”

“That’s Dathia Baneer,” Saverna’s neighbor from across the hall murmured, as if the name explained everything.

“Okay. Well, I’ve got work to do,” Saverna said, heading for her room.

Dathia slid ahead, shoulder brushing Saverna into the wall. When she reached her own room, she leaned back from the doorway, smirking. “Enjoy the head start,” she said softly. “It won’t last.” She disappeared and her door hissed shut.

“Wow.” Saverna shook her head and shut herself in her room. Making herself comfortable at her desk, she started on her assignments.

Four hours later, the alarm chimed on her comm link. Saverna sprang up from her studies and rifled through her closet looking for the perfect thing to wear. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to look younger like when she had been loved by both her parents or the grown-up citizen she had come to Rhea to be. She picked out a mature tunic in a soft green with embroidered accents and pulled her hair back into a triple bun, one under the other. She fussed with a little makeup until her alarm chimed again.

“I should have left by now.” She worried at her reflection a moment longer, then hurried out of the dorms to the Demetehar docks.

Her heart fluttered when the line of red Hueys appeared, arriving from the Outer Sol. The fleet of rescue ships gladdened every citizen’s heart, filling everyone with hope. But her heart sped up triple. One of those Hueys contained her mother, who was moving to Rhea so they could spend more time together, so they could repair their relationship, so Saverna would no longer feel abandoned.

As exciting as starting on her path at university was, it couldn’t contend with the chance to get her mother back. There was no other way to mend the hole in her heart, no other way to embark on the best future possible.

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