SG: SERIES' #1 - Beginnings

[Mechaman]

[[In the RACC posting, #0 was accidentally posted as #1.  The following 
post is the true #1, and the start of the series.  Mea Culpa -- Mek]]


                In the shadows of a golden age
                 A generation waits for dawn
                       Brave carry on
                     Bold and the strong



                   Ghost in the Mecha, XLtd

                          presents

                         S E R I E S '

                        1 - Beginnings



*--- The Cry Heard Round The World

-- December 31, 2000

    There are plenty of things hospitals are very leery of, superstition 
or not.  The phases of the moon are a well noted phenomenon, as are 
holidays.  While the former is much more superstition, holidays have a 
much better basis in fact.  More people with free time on their hands, 
and more people willing to combine things that their body should not be 
having in excess.
    All in all, good reasons to avoid a hospital in any case, even 
without some complications already predicted.  Which is why, discretely, 
a few friends had hinted to a proud couple that it might be a good idea 
to avoid the holidays if they could help it.  The doctors agreed, but 
the condition of the mother made induction methods just slightly worrisome. 
Not enough that they were alarmed or worried of a miscarry, but enough 
for them to point out there were risks.
    Which was enough for the mother.  With a wry smile, she simply told 
the doctors the simple truth she'd held for some years of trying.  "What 
would be, would be."  Arrangements were made just in case, and then the 
spirit and whirlwind of the season hit.  Even with keeping to a 
wheelchair and wistfully watching those who danced at the parties, it 
was a good yuletide and days after.  Even if she could swear the little 
girl wanted to kick in time with the band.
    She later would have realized that any daughter of -hers- wouldn't 
settle for the opening act.  Fortunately, they were with friends who 
could help again.  Of course, the decor wasn't precisely what she 
thought of when it came to a maternity ward.  The doctor who was in 
attendance probably thought much the same.  Fortunately, he wasn't the 
one who was doing the work.  Just giving advice as needed.  The young 
woman midwifing had, after all, a self-described good hand in the family 
business.
    Alice Liddell, Momentum of Mason's Mazin' Mob, silently coaxed at the 
child as she went to help ease the little girl's passage from her 
mother.  She was tempted to send to the girl, partially because the 
silence was maddening.  But she wouldn't have had the man, Ted Kimball, 
anywhere else.  On the other hand, sending telepathically to a newborn 
(especially one who was still trying to get to that stage) seemed 
another kind of no-no.  So she spoke, even if she couldn't quite hear 
it, just to prove to her heart she did, and felt some relief as she 
helped split the umbilical and the sounds she had keenly missed ran back 
to her ears.
    "Oh thank Elvis.  No offense, but I like the sound of my 
voice a bit too much."  She winked, helping the doctor clean the girl 
and gently gave her a small spank.  The newborn girl wailed as she should, a 
small tuft of brown hair seeming stark on her head... the rest of the 
hair fine and near colorless.  "I hope you'd planned for a girl, because 
that's what a beautiful little screamer you've got.  Hard enough I can 
feel it up my bones."
    It wasn't really anything anyone could have thought through in 
advance.  To be sure, Ted and his wife Chelsea had been warned there 
were good chances of their child being affected by their lifestyles and 
choices, but how and why weren't something anyone could foretell.  So 
Alice made a small mistake as she went to swaddle the child to hand it 
to her mother.
    She let go.
    Suddenly, that feeling from her bones was rather secondary from the 
feeling to her mind, as the baby's cries filled it quite heavily. 
Plenty of mages and mentalists around the world joined Alice in her 
sudden headache, hearing the child as if the child were right in their 
room screaming in need.  Many normals, not as well attuned, still would 
wonder if they'd heard a neighbor's child screaming that night, if they 
thought of it at all.
    The response was just as swift back:
    [[}{<<|| FOR ELVIS'S SAKE, CALM HER DOWN! ||>>}{]]
    Recovering her wits a bit, Alice finished wrapping the child, cooing 
gently.  She handed the child to her mother, closing eyes a moment 
expecting another grenade to explode in the room.  When she realized no 
railspike to the head was coming, she looked at the three thoughtfully.
    "This... could be a bit of a problem."
    Chelsea Montrose Kimball, nodded a bit, slightly distracted.  Esther 
Angellica Kimball merely was content to be held, knowing she was safe 
and loved.

*--- Every New Beginning Comes From Some Other Beginning's End

-- May 7, 1999

    The room was tastefully done in pastels and other light shades, but 
the windows were shaded, leaving little light to catch the colors. The 
room was much smaller than most of the rooms in the estate, but it also 
showed much more signs of someone living there.
    The woman on the bed still had her eyes closed, her breathing 
regular even if she had a nasal tube to help oxygen into tired and 
aching lungs. Lungs that had borne too many cigarettes even if the 
throat and voice had withstood the test of time.  She wondered if she 
hadn't been stricken down if she'd be in the same house at all at this 
point, or if she'd be bitterly fighting battles tasting of more 
bitter ashes.
    Most of the room was rented furniture, sparsely decorated with small 
brikabrac from her 'real' bedroom. She had little illusion when the time 
came, most of the items would be scrubbed or destroyed. Not just the 
rentals... but her items as well. It probably was why her husband 
conceded to her one request and brought her family's antique heirloom, 
an ornate mirror, to her room. It was placed at a spot inconvenient to 
look at, but that bothered her very little. It wasn't the point for her 
to look into it.
    "I wish I had better news for you, but the doctors are quite 
competent... and accurate." The voice was calm and cultured. Not 
precisely warm, but not without emotion or sympathy.  It also belonged 
to someone not in the room.  The mirror conveyed it very well however.
    Natalie Generi took a painfully deep breath, but nodded.  She spoke 
carefully, as it took effort with even the support.  "I've... many 
problems with Richard... but he does not chintz... on taking care 
of what's his...."
    "And while you may not have been happy with this life, it is what you 
wished for." The voice's tone was regretful. "I'm sorry, dear, I truly 
wish I could have helped make it a more fulfilling one."
    Natalie tried, but failed to prop herself up or turn to face the 
voice better. That she didn't manage worried her only slightly more. 
She knew it was getting very close to time... perhaps past it if the 
doctors hadn't taken stiff measures. She tried to take  another deep 
breath.  "My...own fault... but I need to... ask..."
    "I'm afraid I can't do much to help, dear. Your family has a place in 
my heart, but there's nothing in my power to stop this..."
    "It's NOT..." she gasped again, taking a long moment to gather her 
breath. "What I need to ask... my son..."
    "Joshua?" The voice turned curious. "I thought Richard had nothing 
but pride in his son."
    "He takes care... of what is his.... but in his... own way."
    "Ah." The voice took a long moment, thoughtfully. "Yes, and his 
slanted sense of ethics and priority would be terribly at odds with 
bringing the boy up to his potential."
    "Josh... knows too well..."  Her voice failed again a moment, and she 
closed her eyes. There really wasn't any need to keep them open. 
"His...own views on right."
    "I would say that's unfortunate, but considering your concern, that 
speaks well of him.  Even if perhaps that he's inherited a certain 
stubbornness from both lines."  The voice sighed.  "If I did, you know it 
won't be easy for the boy.  No more than it was for any of your family
I've looked on over the years.  Yourself included."
    The woman started to gather the breath to respond, but instead 
forced her eyes open as someone else spoke instead.
    "And why would that be?"  The young male voice was openly curious, 
but wary.  Natalie knew the door was locked, more to keep Josh from the 
room.  But that assumed he had to use the door, a talent she'd warned 
him not to let his father see.
    Under the camera, perfectly within the blindspot, a young boy barely 
older than twelve sat.  His bright blue eyes were part of the few bits 
of color on him, as he'd chosen a black shirt and dark pants to wear. 
It contrasted highly with his pale skin, giving him a ghost-like air as 
he sat.
    Natalie didn't know how long been there... and honestly realized it 
perhaps didn't matter.  The voice must have come to the same 
conclusion as it spoke to him directly.
    "Your mother and I know each other from a long time back."  Josh 
turned to look, his eyes widening slightly in surprise, but putting on a 
brave determined face.  One that really didn't fit his age, but fit well 
enough.  The dark shadowed form was visible in the mirror, a woman who 
seemed almost as old as her mother, yet seemed older like grandparents 
he'd never known.
    Her clothing looked old-fashioned, though he really couldn't point to 
anything that was directly so.  Perhaps the ivory armlength gloves 
poking out of the dark shawl she wore over her matching blouse.  Perhaps 
the small glasses she kept at the tip of her nose.  But Josh thought it 
mostly was just the eyes itself.
    If the woman noticed the intent stare, she seemed to pay it 
little worry.  "She was concerned about your welfare, and was sharing 
that concern with me."
    "Mother doesn't think Father has much care for anything but the 
principles of his business."  Josh's tone was rather flat, his face a 
grimace that seemed to mirror that tone well.
    "And what do you think, Joshua?"
    "I think Mother gives him more credit than she should."  He clenched 
the fist not holding a notebook close to himself, looking down a bit.
    His mother shook a moment, tear running from eyes.  She took a breath 
a moment later.  "Oh... I needed that."
    The other woman's smile widened a touch, but kept her own tone more 
diplomatic.  "I think that might be a rather blunt opinion of him... but 
not inaccurate.  Your mother thinks it might be... smarter if you went 
with me instead."
    "Wouldn't that be kidnapping?  Especially since Mother..."  His voice 
caught there, a bit of the veneer failing.
    The woman in the mirror smiled a sad smile.  "Sometimes, the 
difference is in the spirit and the letter of the law.  But in the end, 
prices get paid."
    "But no one's above the law..." Josh protested quickly, then trailed 
off as his mind caught up to his mouth.  The woman in the mirror laughed 
lightly as he blushed, embarrassed, but the laugh didn't seem cold or 
sharp as she did.
    "I think someone has seen one too many crime drama shows."  She 
sobered.  "No one should be, but many people are close to.  There ARE 
rules and prices, but nothing is completely in the hands of order, no 
matter how much I try."
    He considered her words a moment.  "You try to help people within the 
law?  Like a cop?"  He leaned forward, his demeanor breaking through a 
bit as the eagerness overtook his control.
    The woman considered.  "Not quite like a cop, though I do have rules 
as well."
    "Can you teach me?  I mean, to be what I can?"  His voice is hopeful 
a moment.  Then he paused, looking to his stricken mother.  His mother 
smiled to him faintly, trying to reassure.  It wasn't easy to do in her 
current state.  The woman in the mirror seemed to understand.
    "Now that is a good question.  So of course it's not an easy answer. 
But I think perhaps... yes, we could try.  It is, after all, what your 
mother wishes."  Natalie nodded feebly in agreement with the woman's 
words before breaking into another wrenching cough.
    "But.. I shouldn't leave her..."  The boy was subdued, guilty in 
tone.  "It wouldn't be right."
    "No, it wouldn't be easy.  Your mother, at least, thinks it would be 
right.  Do not mistake words that work along the same path for being the 
same word.  I don't promise things being easy.  But only because I will 
do my best to give you what you ask.  So it's best to be sure what you 
want before you ask or choose."
    The boy paused at that, distracted by his mother's cough and fighting 
the urge to run into the camera's view.  "I...I want to do good, to be 
someone who helps bring right back.  To make things proud again."  He 
squared his shoulders a bit.  "It's not about easy... it's about what 
matters."
    The woman in the mirror regarded him a long moment.  "Yes, yes it 
is."  She sighed lightly, then snapped her fingers dramatically.  As she 
did, the camera literally sparked and died.  She walked through 
the mirror as if the glass had never existed and looked to the 
boy intently.  "Though I do wonder if it'll be easier on you than me, 
in the end.  Very well, I accept."
    Josh paused as he realized the hated camera was no longer working and 
moved forward.  He paused hesitantly, then ran over to his mother first 
and took her hand.  The squeeze she gave was as firm as she could make 
it, but it also was enough.  Josh kissed his mother's brow.
    The woman watched bemusedly, but waited.  Both talked for a few more, 
then Josh leaned closer again, allowing his mother's lips to brush 
cheek.  He then looked to the woman, his eyes much more firm and 
intense.  "We have to go now?"
    "Yes we do, little squire.  If there's anything left for you to 
do..."  She nodded as the boy shook head.  "Well, then, step through and 
we'll see about some breakfast while I rearrange a calendar that had 
seemed rather pleasantly free."  She smiled again the words obviously a 
joke.
    Josh nodded and started to walk for the mirror with her.  He paused 
at the threshold a moment, but didn't look back before coming through. 
The woman paused slightly longer for entirely different reasons.  She 
looked slightly to the left of the bed as another entered the room. 
She sighed with small regret, but made a small nod of acceptance to 
the newcomer before turning to leave.

    "Do take good care of her."

    In the morning, amidst all the other bad news piling at Richard 
Generi's feet, he was informed of the passing of his wife and that his 
son was missing.  That the mirror was gone was not even noticed for 
another year when the estate was catalogued.


*--- Not My Father's Son

-- December 15, 2015; 144SUPERGUY

    Jeff leaned back and tried to ignore the cold (31 degrees 
Fahrenheit, -0.6 Centigrade) on his back from the snowbank as he 
straight up into clouds.  He didn't need to feel the subtle vibration of 
his kid sister's (one year and three months to the DAY) size 6 
tread to clue him in he wasn't alone any more.
    "Quarter for your thoughts?"  Peggy brushed off a stump before she 
sat down to look to her elder sibling.  He pushed himself back up to 
look to her.  Her hair bobbed about a bit as she settled in, her having 
a curly wave his own hair never had, his own keeping more or less to the 
straight and sometimes a bit more fine.  Now that made all the more 
sense to Jeff.  It hurt a bit but not as much as he thought it would, 
actually.
    After all, when all is said and done, half rounds to full.
    "What, you think it's worth that much?"  He grinned lightly as he 
made sure to give her his full attention.  She smirked back at him, the 
expression a mirror of their mother's.
    "Well, considering inflation and that you don't seem to have many, I 
think I'd better pay market rates."  She sobered a bit.  "Mom and Dad 
just had 'a Talk' with me.  Uhm, well, wow.."
    "Yeah... they kind of were intending to get around to telling me 
sometime."  Jeff didn't bother hiding the hurt and slight bitterness to 
that.  He could hear the truth in that, yet at the same time it seemed 
so much like they wanted sometime to be 'any time but now'.
    "Well, they probably could have told you right away, but man, I don't 
think youd've remembered it."  She shook her head.  "But heck of a way 
to find out you're not only a superguy..."  She paused and amended 
quickly as he started to frown.  "...well, potential superguy, but that 
Dad's not... well, your biological one."
    "Dad's dad, Mom's mom, and you're a brat."  Jeff grinned a bit as he 
shook off Peggy's slip.  He sobered as he thought things through 
seriously though.  "I don't think that's going to change much... 
not really."
    "So what is going to?"  Peggy's voice was an odd feeling as he parsed 
it.  About half curious, maybe a quarter envious and another part 
worried... Jeff took a long breath and felt things settle maybe in place 
a bit better.  And this little... omission aside, this family shot 
straight on the issues.
    "Maxine and I are going to go for it.  We've got a few others who're 
stepping up.  We figure that the real Hero Patrol's got the town pretty 
much covered, but there's still a lot of outlying land.  Enough to, you 
know, work and learn the ropes."
    "So a kind of Border Patrol instead of the big HP?"
    Jeff winced.  "I hope to Hell that name won't stick, but yeah."
    Peggy nodded, leaning back slightly so her heels left the ground, 
then bounced back forward.  "I'm jealous," she admitted frankly.  "Mom 
and Dad are going to flip, but I think it's cool actually."
    "Thanks..  I'm probably going to need the support.  I'm not planning 
on hiding it from them." Jeff shook his head, a bit of the bitterness 
still catching his voice.  "No secrets if I can help it."
    "I said they'll flip, not that they'll disown you."  She grinned 
wryly.  "So, what's it like?  I mean..."
    "Kinda hard to say... sometimes, I think it's almost like saying I 
have the old heads up display thing you see in games.  It's NOT, but 
all the info I can see organizes... I just KNOW it."
    "Everything?"  Peggy's voice was utterly skeptical in tone, and Jeff 
didn't blame her.
    "No.  Which is what keeps me half-sane."  Jeff took a breath.  "Well, 
let's say I'm going to have fun with school.  More than I have, really. 
The more I understand, the more I can pick out of what my powers are 
telling me. "
    "So the more you know, the more you can identify, and the more you, 
uh, 'perceive'?"
    "About the size of it.  Still a lot of things going by ear and 
intuition."
    "Okay, then what's the intuition got to do with you and Maxine 
anyway?"  Jeff winced, but kept eye contact with his sister as she 
pressed on.  "I mean, sure, maybe it was talking about the hero gig, but 
I kinda think there's a bit more."  She pouted lightly, even if it was 
hard to not see the small hurt in her eyes.  While Maxine and Jeff were 
of a general age, that hadn't been much a barrier to them becoming as 
close.
    Jeff took a breath and prepped for the explosion.  "That's not for me 
to say."
    "So that's a secret you're going to keep, huh?"  Peggy's voice 
surprised him a bit for the lack of volume.  It made what he said hurt 
all the more to him, but he took a breath and plowed on.  Trust works 
both ways.
    He shook his head.  "No, I said it's not for me to say.  That's 
Maxine's to.  For what it's worth, I told her you'd pick up on it.   So, 
Ask Her.  If she doesn't, tell me."  He smiled tiredly.  "I'll either 
knock some sense into her head, or else I'll give her a deadline."  One, 
he noted, much earlier than the one they knew Maxine had.
    For a moment, Peggy looked mulish, the desire to press the one who 
wasn't fifteen miles away obvious, but again she relented with a nod. 
"Okay.  I guess if I had something like it, I'd rather have that... I 
guess."  She looked down.  "Maybe I'm a bit more jealous than I figured. 
I mean, you've got all the cool revelations with you and the superguy 
for a dad and all..."
    Jeff rose and pulled his sister up and gave her a tight hug, ruffling 
her hair as he released her.  "Well, don't count it all out.  I mean, 
Maxine's our cousin on Mom's side after all..."
    "Yeah, but both her parents were in the biz..."
    "Exactly the point I'm making, squirt."  Jeff grinned a bit.  "Maybe 
good things come to those who wait."
     "Mmmmaybe."  She allowed as she tried to deruffle her hair.  "But 
that doesn't mean I'm not jealous.  Going to be in for dinner?"
     "Yeah, I'll be there in a second."  He waved a moment as she moved 
off, then looked to his hand a moment.  As he watched, the hand lost 
slight definition before he slammed it into a large rock by the stump. 
His hand didn't move, the rock, did as the sonic resonance reacted with 
its structure.  It moved away.  In fragments.
     Aunt Reba's old group had two different members who did funky things 
with sound, and only one of them was female.  Mask Principle aside, it 
wasn't hard to make a guess on that line...
     "Uh-huh, just on my father's side.  I'm really sure."


*--- The Vixen

-- June 11, 1997 (*)

    There are places in many cities that are not ever on the tourist 
guides.  Not because they're not quaint, with good friendly people and 
meals and drinks that are less quality than many a place listed in those 
guides, but because of those guides themselves.  Places that don't wish 
to cater to those who read the guides, but to those who qualify as 
locals to whatever yardstick the proprietor chooses to use.
    "The Laughing Vixen" was one of those places, the name a tip of the 
hat to what he considered one of the few non-local locals to grace his 
pub.  This was because she had followed him moving as his reputation had 
grown beyond what he'd like it to be.  The regulars generally found him 
quick enough.  Not as quick as the brown haired woman who was there, 
usually -to the moment- he reopened under another name.
    Her arrival was always a tip of the duster the balding man wore as 
much for affectation as vanity.  The drink he got her wasn't on the 
house, unless he failed the unspoken game they played as she arrived.  A 
look at what she wore, the attitude (though she was always a lady, to 
him) she gave as she walked, and things like that formed his first 
'drink order' for her.  In the now many years he'd known her, he had 
gotten rather good on his estimation, and so placed a light lager in 
front of the woman as she removed her coat.
    She nodded thanks, sipping the drink a moment before holding it up 
to him with a nod of thanks.   Her clothing was decidedly casual this 
evening, a turtleneck sweater and dark slacks giving an air of relaxed 
grace which went more with a beer than a wine's refinement this night. 
The barkeep was about to ask if she was looking for some food to go with 
it this blust'ry night when the door opened and another came in.  He 
frowned as the man who walked in had two strikes against him already. 
Stranger and dark.
    His patron seemed to have the same feeling as he did, her eyes 
turning to the door as the man brushed off some of the sodden moisture 
of the winter mix outside.  She sipped again at her drink, one hand 
draped to her coat, her fingers clenched slightly to it.  The man took 
upon himself to take a seat next to the woman.
    The interloper looked over the bottles of liquor and beer cans along 
the back of the bar.  "Ah, Kirin Ichiban."  The barkeep raised an 
eyebrow and went to grab the drink.  The reaction from the woman next 
door wasn't as obvious, but she let her hand move from her coat.
    "I'm surprised.  I was rather expecting either one of the french 
choices, or perhaps 'what she's having.'"  She continued to sip her 
beer, not turning to face the man quite yet.
    "Either of which you'd either be leaving, or ignoring me for the boor 
I'd proven to be."  His voice was deep, but relaxed.  Amused and 
selfconfident, perhaps, but not giving a direct threat.  "As a 
matter of fact, I'd tried the beer a while back and found it a diverting 
difference.  The lager is better, but I'll take the ichiban."
    "After all, one should be looking out for number one," she commented 
with mild irony.  She sipped a bit more at her glass.  "Which I should 
take heed myself, but I suppose I'm in a gambling mood again."
    "On my intentions, perhaps?"  He smiled as he accepted his own drink. 
"I would claim my intentions were purely noble, but I'd be lying.  But 
then again, nothing illegal to them nor intending harms way to you, Ms. 
Du--"
    "The Dupuis line died years ago.  Please, do both of us a favor and 
not use it in my presence."  The chill tone of her interruption wasn't 
mirrored at all in her face, as she took another sip of her beer.  "And 
I'd suggest to not get too flowery with your speech.  Currently, I'm of 
mind that this drink might be all I need here tonight."
    The man didn't change his expression either, sipping his own drink. 
"Very well.  Would it be better to call you Ms. Reynaud?"  As he spoke 
he did turn to look at her straight on, any pretense of indirection 
evaporating as he did.
    "Charlie.. I think I need to take a booth for the moment."  La 
Reynaud, formerly Renee Dupuis, smiled the old man as she rose.  "I'm 
afraid I misjudged what kind of evening this was.  It's a rare enough 
thing these days."
    The barkeep nodded.  "Would ye be wishing for food, milady?  Or is it 
still jus' to be that one draught?"  He looked to the man darkly, his 
own impression of what he thought of people who pressured away those he 
prized.
    "Mmm.  Perhaps so.  The choice cut, if you will, with the usual 
trim?"  She glanced to the gentleman.  "And I do believe he'll be paying 
for it now, just as a matter of good faith."
    The man smiled, still unperturbed.  "This time, I -will- say, 'as she 
ordered', since that sounds excellent."  He put down a hundred dollar 
bill and rose.  "Meal and any additional expenses, I think."
    The Fox nodded to herself and rose, taking her coat with her to a 
booth, sitting with her back to the front door.  The man took the other 
side, with ease.  "You did a remarkable job to find me.  I haven't 
undertaken any personal or business dealings in... some time."
    "Three years, though that assumes we didn't miss a few of your more 
subtle traps and tricks.  You do not, after all, leave much of a calling 
card, considering your penchant for puzzles and traps."
    She gave a small nod to her head, hand raising a moment in a phantom 
blade's salute.  "Touche.  I haven't had any real need to, and the 
challenge got dull.  Depressingly, the local challengers have failed to 
even notice anything, mister...."
    "Gideon will do, I think.  It even has the novelty of being my actual 
first name."  He smiled a bit, trying to be disarming, she supposed.  It 
might work if one wasn't always wary.  Or, she amended, aware.
    "So that would be Gideon du Soleil, then."  The Fox kept her smile 
subtle as his attention sharpened in some undefined manner.  He then 
smiled and held his own drink in a small salute as well.  "Since if it 
was du Lune, I highly doubt you'd even give me that much of an 
introduction."
    "I wouldn't be sure there, but your deductive skills are quite 
uncanny." he admitted ruefully, "Neither of our branches of the family 
are the kind to draw attention to ourselves."
    "Not in general, but I do have a habit of keeping track and tabs of 
people and things of legend... it was rather profitable for me more 
times than not."  The Fox sipped her drink as she allowed Gideon time 
to digest that fact.
    He had the grace to take that moment, and then continue on. 
"What I was hoping for was a better opening for this," he admitted after 
a moment.  "Have you ever considered a child?"
    "In many ways I'm rather sure your question does not."  She sipped at 
her drink a moment to cover her frown of surprise.  Of all things to be 
pigeonholed on, that fell so far down the list that she was rather sure 
the fall of Atlantis was much more likely.  "On the other hand, I'll 
venture that isn't an idle question.  And considering your... family's 
fascination with lineage, that question is far from idle."
    His demeanor changed slightly as the questions went back to more 
familiar and less delicate ground.  "Yes, it is, especially since the 
branches have been rather bare of late, of the purer lines.  There's 
perhaps only four in my generation, split evenly among the Sun and the 
Moon."
    "Not you, of course." She sipped again this time watching his 
reaction with practiced yet casual intensity.
    "No, I'm second born.  My brother had been, but met his fate far too 
early in life."  His tone was wistful and regretful.  "However, I think 
the odds are good my line would be one to continue the line, of those 
left."
    "I see you ascribe to false modesty as a sin," she murmured.  "And 
yet I'm quite sure there are many a woman with a better pedigree, even 
allowing for those few with enough... discretion for the approach."
    "Perhaps, but you haven't been the only one to keep abreast of 
activities within one's purview."  He leaned slightly closer.  He was, 
she allowed, quite charismatic as he turned on the charm.  "You've been 
the queen of the game, whatever game you choose.  Yet you've walked away 
without taking a prize more than a token.  And most are aware you could 
have.  Well, those who recognized the game they were in.  And that alone 
was a bit fascinating."
    The Fox sighed.  "Perhaps from the outside, but not from my view.  It 
was more disappointing than not."  She cut into her steak with deft 
hands.  "I took a prize commiserate with the challenge.  Which as you 
can see, wasn't much."
    "Then perhaps this challenge will appeal.  Allow me time to press my 
case.  I would hazard that a child is one of those that is constantly 
one."
    "If a commitment."  She looked up, her eyes flashing warning.  "If I 
do so, you do realize that I would not do it by half measures.  And as 
much as your family feud is interesting historically, I have no direct 
interest."
    "It should not matter much, aside from the child receiving the 
training and care that is his or her birthright.  And I would not dare 
sending the mother away, even if it would not be so... unwise."  Gideon 
leaned back a moment, taking a serious moment.  "There are sins one 
cannot avoid, and ones that one cannot abide."
    "I've found that man may find many things he can abide that he was 
sure he could not."  Renee shook her head a moment.  "No matter.  I'm 
sure I can walk out the door now and not worry on it again."
    "You could," Gideon agreed amiably.  The Fox sighed inwardly, but 
merely smiled as he continued.  "But you won't."
    "You've one month to convince me you're more witty than 
insufferable."  Her tone was bemused more than not.  "Or perhaps other 
qualities to endear.  There are many things I will or will not do, but 
perhaps it's a bit better than not.  And, I'll admit... more than my 
curiosity is piqued."
    He took a sip of his drink, considering her a moment, then deciding 
it fair game.  "What else?"
    "A mystery I don't know the ending or the solution to yet.  I doubt 
you realize how few and far between those are."
     Gideon showed restraint and merely nodded, holding his glass up in 
salute.   She brought her own to touch.  Ten months later, as the house 
of the Sun welcomed the little Lionne to their compound, she realized 
that the challenge she'd taken on might be bigger than she'd 
anticipated.  The stakes however were simply bigger than she'd imagined. 
Her tears were ascribed to joy and the pain of the birth.
    They were only half right.

*--- Errant Login

-- April 28, 1998

    Domain name resolution is wonderful when one needs to recall the 
location of a website or a computer connected to the Internet, but on 
occasion a machine has no external name to resolve to it.  Without it, 
one has to recall the four digits between 0 and 255 where the machine 
resides, assuming that it has a public address facing the Internet.  Of 
course, one of the reasons for DNS is because it's so easy to mistakenly 
type one number for another...

    Mark sipped his liter bottle of dew as he settled down at his home 
computer.  It was the weekend, it was the break week for his live games, 
and he had nothing better he wanted to do.  He grinned and pulled out 
his little notepad and set up a terminal window and start the ssh 
connection to his compatriot's workmachine.  While the database work was 
his bread and butter, his friend had clued him in he'd been putting in 
some side time on a little project closer to Mark's interest.
    While the massively-multiplayer games were finally showing up for the 
masses, it never interested Mark so much.  He'd always been more 
interested in the text-based multi-user dungeon/environs.  Especially 
those which allowed the players to design and build up their own 
environs and tools.  Granted, that required a bit more trust than most 
of the combat-oriented MU*s allowed, but nonetheless he enjoyed it 
hugely.
    His friend had claimed he'd finally figured out to link the two 
styles better, and even was working on limited graphical avatar support. 
While a bit skeptical, Mark's interest peaked all the more to that, so 
badgered the IP of the machine and got a 'guest account' to the server. 
Now as he typed, he frowned, looking over the note.
   "God, I can't even make it out myself... is that a thirty seven or did 
an eighty seven smudge...  ahwell, only one'll work, right?"  He shook 
head and went to type it in.  To make matters worse later, he 
fatfingered another digit but didn't notice as the login screen showed. 
Quickly, he typed in the account and password he was given, and grinned 
as the screen changed to a customized prompt.

WELCOME user, to the REFUGE.

Last Login: unavailable

command:

    Mark checked his notes and typed "persona", clicking enter.  His 
friend had wanted to wait till he'd had documentation to give out, but 
Mark knew that'd be forever.  So he was playing it blind, which suited 
him fine, as it allowed him to pretend he was his friend's first beta 
tester.  Or alpha tester, even.

> Persona creation requested.  Form of persona?

    He paused at that, wondering a bit.  Well, it's not like there's been 
any presentation or options listed.  Something to let him know it could 
be useful later.  He considered his options, then looked over at the 
corkboard by his computer.  All the characters on the boards were 
'retired' from the campaigns he'd played them in.  He considered, then 
chose one from a PBEM he'd played in the year before.  Why not?

# Android heroine

> Searching... loading modules.  Begin physical description?

   Mark grinned and cracked his knuckles.  Time to see how much the 
buffer could take.  Besides, his friend knew how much he was a detail 
hound he was, so might as well give him the full bore test...

--

    On the other end of the line, the Redundant Engineering Fabricator's 
Use Generation Editor accepted the input passively.  After all, this was 
what it was designed for, though its processors hadn't been ever used 
for something of this scope and magnitude.  Branching and spawning the 
modules the control program's internal logic indicates would be 
required.  As the input continued, the processor activated a sideboard 
that the creator of REFUGE hadn't quite cleared for general use.  But 
from the looks of the request, a bit of research could need to be done. 
REFUGE didn't mind, since despite its local interface, it didn't have 
one that could comprehend emotions.  If anything, it justified its 
existence aside from its caretaker functions.
    As the sideboard processed the requirements, it started to formulate 
searches using the protocols available to it. It opened ports to various 
locations as information was consumed and sorted silently.  One gopher 
query lead down to an interesting branch or two.  Follow up posts 
following the patterns set led to others, and slowly a map of progress 
started to be built.  In the corner of REFUGE's main monitor a small 
progress bar incremented to "0.01%", the estimated time not given.

    Elsewhere, a hand turned off an old campus server before the disc 
inside died.  Dustin smiled and pulled the plug from the box, letting 
the ancient 'secrets' left on its antiquated gopher 'share'  be lost 
again as it had been for almost half a decade.  The message had already 
been delivered to whom he wanted, so the bottle wasn't needed anymore.
    Slipping to the a table in the closed and empty library, he pulled a 
deck of cards out from his sash and started shuffling it with practice 
ease.  Each card flipped with a flourish as he dealt a hand before him. 
A King with face of painted woad, a Queen in armor mail, a Jack with 
monocle and hand held high and straight.  His smile shifted just enough 
to be a smirk, as he went to flip the next two.
    An Ace, but not of any of the traditional suits, but what looked to be a 
flying serpent.  He paused at that, the smirk slipping to a more subtle 
smile than usual.  He placed the card back in and shuffled again.  The 
same card placed itself into the fourth position, as if taunting.
    "This... means something."  He smirked at a personal jest in the 
statement, then turned over the last card for the hand.
    The last card was the joker of the deck, though instead of the 
European jester, a woman with a fox face and multiple tails hid her 
nose with a fan.  He looked on the card a long moment, his permanent 
good mood seeming to be threatened.
    "No," he murmured to himself.  "I'm sorry, but you are the ace of 
this run, the game doesn't allow cards running wild."  He shuffled the 
cards again, the King remaining where it was.  The next card, unchanged, 
was the Joker.  He stopped and looked at the card again intently.  His 
eyes lit up as comprehension dawned.
    "Of course.  The mother, not the child.  Well.  We'll have to see if 
we can finesse that a little bit."  He chided the card.  "After all, 
your daughter has a date to keep with me soon."
    He rose, smirking as he walked toward the hall. As he did, he seemed 
to fade, his voice the last thing to leave the room.  "One doesn't keep 
me waiting after all."

---

Copyright 2008, James Rinehart.  All rights reserved.  "The Fox/Renee 
Dupuis" co-created with Chris Angelini for the Matters of Perspective 
Miniseries.  Jeff 'Perceptor' derived from characters and planning from 
Mike Escutia's Hero Patrol.  Opening lead quote from "Only the Young" 
performed by Journey.