Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Pumpkin Seeds part 3 of 10

December 31, 2025November 11, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“I missed the last ones, but I got you.” A booming deep, unearthly voice spoke over Glen’s shoulder; the kind of voice that gave him chills, and even penetrated Sandra’s screams. Glen got to his feet, dragged Sandra to her feet with him, and backed the two of them away from that voice. The creature stood nine feet tall and was so horrible to look at, Glen’s stomach nearly let go, and Sandra could not stop screaming. Glen had to turn Sandra’s shivering face into his shoulder where she did not have to look at the thing to get her quiet. This brute, and the word ogre came to Glen’s mind, looked covered in warts that sprouted little hairs that looked more like cactus spikes than hairs. He had several boils on the surface of his skin, if it could be called skin, and a few of those were open sores that leaked a pink and yellow puss. It had a mouth so full of yellow teeth; Glen could not see the back of that maw or count the teeth if he wanted to, not the least because of the green drool that leaked out over the edge of the lower lip. The creature also had a small spark in the eyes that glared at them, as if to say that this creature was alive and aware; but to be sure, it seemed a very small spark.

“I am going to have you for an afternoon snack,” the ogre roared, and he hefted a club the size of a small tree.

Glen heard the words “don’t panic” in his mind as his mouth sprang into action, though hardly aware of what he said until he said it. “Well, if you are going to have us for tea, make sure there are plenty of biscuits, and by all means keep the kippers to yourself. Those things are almost as slimy and disgusting as you are. Gods you are an ugly beastie.”

The ogre paused and lifted his head. “Do you think so?” He spoke with some doubt in his voice.

“Oh, yes,” Glen assured him. “Very ugly. Frighteningly ugly. You heard the woman screaming, didn’t you? Now, let’s get on to tea, you lead the way.”

“Huh?” The ogre paused while Glen’s words caught up with his little brain, and he guffawed. “Have you for a snack.” He guffawed again, and that is not a sound you ever want to hear. Glen had to swallow the bile to keep it from coming out and Sandra had to bite her lower lip, hard, to keep the screams at bay. “Say, now.” The ogre stopped laughing and a terrifying looked crossed his face. “Hold still.” He lifted the club.

Glen’s eyes got wide, but he looked a little to the ogre’s left side. He pointed dramatically in that direction and yelled, “Look!” The ogre turned to look.

“What?” The ogre wondered, but by the time he turned again, Glen had grabbed Sandra’s hand and they were running as fast as they could down the path. “Hey!” They heard the yell behind them, and heard the tromp, tromp of giant footsteps, following. Glen wanted to say run faster, but he was fairly-sure they could not run faster. Sandra did not want to say anything. She focused too hard on her feet. With all that, it sounded like the ogre started gaining on them, but shortly they ran into something, or rather, another thing they hardly expected. A wall of men, all dressed in dark armor, stood in their path. The men looked like ancient soldiers, and they all had spears pointed in their direction. Glen prepared to stop, but at the last minute, the men made an opening in the wall and Glen and Sandra raced through. The opening quickly closed. Glen heard the twang of bowstrings, and while Sandra collapsed to the ground, Glen found enough strength left to jump up and holler. “Don’t hurt him.”

A second volley of arrows followed, though the ogre stopped on the first volley. Most of the arrows landed in front of the ogre as a warning for him to turn around and go back where he came from, but one of the arrows went straight into the ogre’s shoulder. The ogre looked more surprised than anything else, and while the arrow did not penetrate deeply, when it fell to the ground some blood fell. Glen knew someone did not follow orders. This time he really shouted. “I said don’t hurt him!”

The archers were off to the sides of the wall of spears, hidden in trees and behind rocks. As Glen shouted, he heard a man moan and someone, or something, sounded like it fell to the ground. Glen could not be concerned about that just then. Instead, all his concern focused on the ogre who he now felt was like a poor child in need of protection. If he had thought about it, it should have been strange to think that way about a brute that just tried to eat him, but Glen did not think. He got too busy pressing up to the back of the wall of spear-men and shouting at the horrifying beast. “Prickles, go home,” he yelled. “Go home, Prickles. You need to go home right now.” He told himself that he did not want to see anyone get hurt, and it was not hard to convince himself of that.

“Go home?” Prickles the ogre tried to figure out what he heard.

“Go home.” A man stepped up beside Glen, and while Glen did not look at the man, he figured the man was probably the commander of this troop of soldiers.

“Go home, Prickles,” Glen repeated, and the ogre nodded.

“Go home,” the ogre said. “Go home.” He turned, walked back the way he came, and his long legs took him quickly out of sight.

Then Glen breathed for all of a second before two of the spear carrying men grabbed him by the arms. “Bring them.” The man who had been standing beside Glen commanded, and they moved to where Sandra also got held against her will. Glen and Sandra were directed to fall in line, and the guards gave them no choice.

“This is getting too weird.” Sandra finally got a word out. She pointed at the men’s faces and Glen realized, for the first time, that all of the ears looked classically pointed, and these were not men at all.

“Elves,” Glen named them and Sandra shrugged as if to say that she had adjusted, that she was not surprised, and maybe she would never be surprised again.

“And the beast?”

“Ogre,” Glen said, but then they had to concentrate on the walk because they were moving up into the hills.

It took several hours to reach a camp where Glen guessed there were perhaps a hundred or more elves, all dressed for war. The sun slipped down in the sky when Glen and Sandra got escorted to a tent. They were left alone, but Glen felt sure there were guards near enough.

Sandra sat quietly and hugged her knees, which she pulled up to her chin. She seemed to be in her own little world. Glen paced and tried to make sense of what happened. It felt weird, as Sandra said. Elves and ogres were unreal, impossible, and no human being would ever believe such a tale. Glen felt stupid, like he was in the midst of something out of a children’s story, or an old wives’ tale, or a folktale where some anthropologist would point out the underlying meaning but would never believe that it might be real. Elves and ogres did not really exist. Glen told himself that several times, but here he was and here they were. He had long since rejected the idea that this might be a dream. “That would have made this B-movie extra bad,” he mumbled. Sandra took Glen’s mumble as an opening to speak.

“My grandmother.” She paused and shook her head before she started again. Glen sat down beside her, not touching, but close enough. “My grandmother used to talk about her grandmother like she was, I don’t know, strange. She said her grandmother had the magic. That is what she called it. She said her mother had some, but not like her grandmother, while she could hardly do anything at all.”

“When was your grandmother born?” Glen felt curious, but not sure why he asked that particular question. Someone, whoever it might be, seemed to be giving him thoughts. It felt like someone had gotten inside his head. Glen probably should have been frightened by the invasion of his mind, but there were two mitigating feelings. First, he felt that the someone, whoever it was, felt so comfortable. Glen could not imagine any harm coming from that direction. Second, there were far more frightening things happening all around him on the outside, he hardly had time to worry about what might be trying to help him on the inside.

“1908,” Sandra said. “She would have been seventy this year if she was still alive.” Glen nodded. It was presently 1978. After a pause, Sandra added the word, “Cancer.”

“And her grandmother?”

“I don’t know.”

“Say, 1870?”

Sandra shrugged. “Grandma said her great-grandmother was a half-blood. I remember asking once half-blood what? I got the strangest answer.” Sandra looked like she did not want to say it, but as an elf chose that moment to enter the tent with a tray of food; Sandra found the courage to verbalize what had always seemed loony. “Fairy.” She said. “My great-great, whatever-grandmother was a half-fairy.”

Glen nodded. “1849 gold rush,” he said as the elf put down the food and turned to leave. “Wait a minute.” Glen spoke up, and the elf paused. “What are you going to do with us?”

The elf turned and shrugged. He looked skinny, terminally skinny, the way certain elves were and his ears were very pronounced and pointed but they matched his pointed nose. “Nothing that I know of.” At least his voice sounded normal.

The elf decided to sit and as he crossed his long legs, he leaned forward to place a hand over the fire. It rose-up with new life. Given the circumstances, neither Sandra nor Glen were surprised by that bit of magic. Sandra scooted a bit closer to the fire for the warmth. Glen decided to take a good look around.

The fire burned in the middle of the tent floor with a small hole in the tent roof straight above it. Curiously, the smoke from the fire went straight up and out the hole without the least bit of it filtering into the rest of the tent. Neat trick, Glen thought. He noticed that most of the light in the tent did not come from the fire, but from several globes near the tent roof. Glow-balls, he called them, and he imagined they were like fairy lights. Of course, they were not plugged into anything, and they were not battery run, so he was at a loss as to what powered them. But they glowed just fine and the light felt warm and comfortable.

Their night in that tent did not look frightening, but then it did not look all that comfortable if they chose to sleep. There were only two blankets rolled up on the dirt floor, but Glen did not get to examine them closely because by then Sandra found the courage to ask a question.

“Do you have a name?”

“Macreedy, son of Macreedy, son of Macreedy, son of Macreedy.” The elf said. “My sire had many daughters, but only one son of Macreedy.” He smiled and cocked his head back to look toward the tent door and said, “You might as well come in, too. These people do not appear dangerous and I don’t believe they rub off.”

************************

MONDAY

Glen and Sandra have entered a strange world but are determined to find Sandra’s baby no matter how strange it gets. Until Monday, Happy Reading

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Pumpkin Seeds part 2 of 10

December 30, 2025November 11, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Glen left his Anthropology seminar at two-fifty. He ran to his dorm, tossed his books in the room by two-fifty-five, and ran the rest of the way to Haddon House. Though he breathed hard when he arrived, the excitement and adrenaline that rose-up inside of him made it more than worthwhile. After five minutes, he calmed and thought that maybe she was not as excited to be with him as he imagined. At ten minutes, he thought she might have run into some Friday traffic, so he sat on the steps where he could watch the parking lot and the woods. Not much longer, and his curiosity and trust began to turn. He began to doubt. He wondered if she would come at all. He began to think that perhaps she did not have feelings for him—that perhaps he just projected his feelings on her. But he knew he did not project anything, so with a deep breath, he wondered if he should go look for her.

Sandra arrived moments later. She squealed her tires and stopped without pulling properly into a space. She ran out of her car the instant she turned it off.

“Glen.” She cried out, and she did not hesitate to run straight into his arms. “She is gone. They are both gone, Melissa and my mother.”

“What?” Glen got that much out.

“I dropped Mother in the main lot and she put Melissa in the stroller while I found a safe place to park. She was going to walk Melissa across the campus to the fork on the path in the woods. I followed behind, but not too close so people would not see, you know.” She paused, but Glen reassured her with a nod. “I was going to get you and when we caught up with them, Mother was going to have errands to run, you know.” Glen hugged her and patted her back, but Sandra pulled away and looked into his face to gauge his reactions. There were tears in her eyes, and Glen saw that along with the upset, she also seemed very afraid.

“It’s all right. They must be somewhere.” Glen tried to sound confident.

“No. You don’t understand. They disappeared. I saw it. I was behind, and I saw it. They were there, a hundred yards ahead of me on the path and I was just about to come and get you when they just vanished. Glen, I don’t know what to do. I looked everywhere. I even went back to the car in case they went back there, but I am sure they did not.”

“They turned a corner or stepped behind a tree?”

Sandra grabbed Glen by the arms and squeezed, hard. “No. They vanished, disappeared, went invisible. Oh, I know it sounds impossible but you must believe me,” she pleaded. “One minute they were in front of me and the next they were gone.” She began to cry.

“Sandra.” Glen pulled her close and let her cry into his shirt. “We will find them. They must be somewhere. Show me where this happened.” Glen was not sure what he believed, but Sandra sounded so sincere.

Sandra backed up and without a word; she grabbed Glen’s hand and ran. Glen did his best to keep up. They were both worn out when they arrived, and Glen mumbled something about running more that day than the past six months put together, but Sandra had her adrenaline running faster than her feet at that point, and she started right in.

“They were here, I swear. I was back at the beginning of the trail there.” She pointed. “And they were right here and they vanished. They just went invisible. I swear to God. I swear it.” Glen examined the ground and saw the faint impression of what might be tire tracks from a stroller. He got down to look more closely and ran his finger over the dirt. He realized that these tracks were dry dirt and imagined that something got pushed through when the dirt had been moist or wet and made the tracks, which since dried. Thus, he just admitted that the tracks could not have been from Melissa’s stroller when he found a little pile of seeds.

“What are these?” he asked and held them up so Sandra could see.

“Pumpkin seeds!” Sandra yelled and threw her arms around Glen’s neck and kissed him, but it was ever so brief. “Where did you find them?”

Glen pointed. “And look. There are a few more.” They were easy enough to see since the seeds were still on the trail.

Sandra ran ahead to pick them up. “Mother! Melissa, Mother!” She called out, but heard no response, so she came back to Glen who moved slowly down the path, looking for more seeds or some other something that might indicate the way they went. Sandra talked.

“Melissa is teething and she has a whole bag of pumpkin seeds. She likes to chew on them. Mother, Melissa!”

Glen grabbed Sandra’s hand when he found another seed. “Don’t run off,” he said. “You need to help me look.” He paused and looked up at Sandra while he picked up the seed with his free hand. “They can’t have gone far, but we need to stick to the right trail.” Sandra nodded, trusted absolutely, and Glen swallowed. He did not want to disappoint her.

“Melissa has a whole bag of seeds.” She repeated herself, and they walked slowly forward until Glen caught something out of the corner of his eye. A breakaway trail pushed off to the left. The trail was not easy to see. It looked badly overgrown and rough, so only a trained hunter might spot it, but it was a trail all the same. Glen paused.

“What?” Sandra asked.

Glen paused because he was not a trained hunter, or anything close. He wondered how he could be so certain about the side trail. It felt like someone had gotten inside his mind, to look through his eyes and help, somehow, but then he spied a lone pumpkin seed and felt better until he imagined that the someone inside had directed his eyes to the seed as well. Glen shook himself to break free of that feeling. “Here,” he said, and picked up the seed. As he handed it to Sandra, he lifted an overhanging tree branch and they stepped underneath and into another place altogether.

“I don’t feel well,” Sandra said immediately. “I feel faint.” She did faint, and Glen barely caught her before she hit the dirt. He felt a bit woozy himself, but as he went to one knee to hold up the woman in his arms, and as he looked at her tranquil face, his dizzy feelings soon passed. He felt like he had been in this place before, but that did not make sense because he could not say when or exactly where in this place he might have been. In any case, if once upon a time he came to that place, it certainly was not with such a lovely companion.

“I have to,” Glen said to himself. “I can feel guilty about it later.” He dipped his head, touched his lips to hers, and thought again that one kiss would never be enough. To his surprise, she kissed him back and with some fervor, though she never opened her eyes. When they separated, she smiled, her eyes popped open to look at him, and she began to scream.

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Pumpkin Seeds part 1 of 10

December 29, 2025November 9, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Sandra turned twenty-three and studied as a senior at the university. Glen did not know what she was majoring in, but at twenty-four, that was not what he was interested in. Sandra was a slim, buxom blond, and Glen felt achingly attracted to her. At the same time, she showed a decided interest in him; and she showed it in every way she could think to show it, to be certain that Glen got the message, even if he turned deaf, dumb and blind. Yet for all the sexual tension between them; for all the hormones that filled the air like great clouds, and despite the ache in Glen’s bones whenever she came into the room, and the desire for him that Sandra breathed out every time she came near him, Glen remained a Gentleman, calm and collected, and Sandra remained a Lady, sweet and demure.

True; an infant could have seen the blood boiling just below the surface. They did not fool anyone, least of all themselves. And it was also true that while Glen might have wanted to say, “Come here,” and he certainly wanted to press himself up against her to feel her rapidly beating heart, and he wanted to slip his arms around her and feel her arms around him and hear the shortness of her sweet breath as her luscious, thick lips said yes, oh yes, and then he wanted to kiss her without mercy; but he did not. He could not. Something stood between them, and it seemed something Glen could not name.

So, they remained apart, at two separate desks in the university newspaper office, and each wondered why the whole room did not just explode. Glen thought briefly about cursing that unnamed something, but he did not. He knew curses always carried consequences. Curses always became more than mere words.

“Damn.” Glen could say that much. He stared at the electric typewriter and the blank page in front of him.

“What?” Sandra asked, but Glen did not answer. After a short time of staring at him, and thinking thoughts she imagined Glen could not guess, Sandra went back to her textbook. Glen got up and walked to the window.

Glen, only a junior in school, had wandered through three other schools, with plenty of time off before ending up at the university; a small but very good school in New Jersey, not far from his home. If not for his own history, he might have questioned why Sandra was older than most of her classmates, but he did not. Instead, he remembered Diana, the young woman he dated a bit more than a year earlier.

He remembered how she betrayed him—how he came home one day and found her in bed with his roommate. He understood that it was not really her fault. He remembered that it was not his fault either, though he could not exactly remember why; but she betrayed him all the same. He had been alone for a long time since then, but now Sandra seemed to be so willing.

Glen tried telling himself that he felt reluctant to get close to her because he felt afraid of being betrayed again, but that was not true. He had healed enough to where he began to feel desperate to get close to someone again. He tried telling himself that his reservations with Sandra were because he did not really know this girl, this lovely young woman, or much of anything about her; but to be honest, young men in their early twenties rarely think about a woman as a person until later; and especially when the attraction is so strong and so mutual; and, just to be fair, most women know this and dress and act accordingly.

“I think I need to go back to my room and get some sleep,” Glen said. “I really am too exhausted to get any work done.” That felt true enough.

“I could drive you,” Sandra offered, though she did not sound sure exactly which dorm he lived in. She lived in town, at home for some reason. Glen wondered if maybe she could not afford to live on campus. “I’m late getting home myself,” she said. She put her books away and got ready in no time. She only took a second to straighten her sweater and run her fingers through her long, curly blond hair.

Glen just had to watch, especially knowing that she wanted him to watch. He loved that white knit sweater. It made a perfect V shape that hid little and suggested everything, and he felt sure she wore nothing of significance beneath the knit.

Glen tore his eyes away and got his own things. “It is hardly a walk to the dorm.” The university, being a small school, meant the whole campus was within easy walking distance. Glen pointed this out, but the protest sounded so feeble they both ignored him, and Glen thought how glad he was that he currently had a single room.

With that thought making all kinds of suggestions echo through his mind, Glen turned off the light and held the newspaper office door so Sandra could go out first. She obliged, ignored the fact that they had plenty of room, and brushed by him, or rather up against him, touching in several places as she passed. Glen did not even check to see if the door locked behind them.

Once in the car, with the windows up and only the light of the distant dormitory buildings, and the stars overhead to shine down on them and bring a glow to their faces, Sandra and Glen began to talk. They talked, not about much, at first; mostly just talk, like empty words about some of their experiences, their interests and such. Sandra asked if he was seeing anyone, and Glen felt every ounce of hope in that question. Glen started into his routine answer about Diana, not that she betrayed him, but that they broke up when he transferred from the state college to the university; but then he thought he had better be more honest.

“It felt like a strange relationship from the beginning. I found out that she had been abused as a child, and when we met, she left a guy who abused her. I kind of went overboard to make sure I stayed a gentleman the whole time, but I guess it is true that nice guys finish last. She could not handle being with a nice guy, so after about a year she ended up in bed with someone who slapped her around.” Glen shrugged. He could never understand why some women cannot feel love unless they are with jerks who treat them like dirt, and of course, that is not love, it is only a kind of masochism. “Well anyway, that is past-history. So how about you?”

Sandra turned away from Glen and Glen felt surprised, but certain that he saw a tear or two; clearly, something she did not want him to see. He had the good sense to wait, patiently, though he did slip his arm around her shoulders to offer his comfort. He could not help that.

“Most men don’t want a used woman,” Sandra said at last. She turned again to look into his eyes with such hope and longing it staggered Glen.

“Don’t be so sure, there are all kinds of men in the world,” Glen said. “Anyway, this is 1978 and aren’t you liberated or something?” As normal for him, Glen tried to lighten the intensity of what she felt, because he felt it too.

“Glen, I have stretch marks,” she said, without any lightening in her tone at all. She took his free hand and leaned into him ever so slightly as if to say, thanks for the comforting thoughts, anyway.

“What?” Glen did not get it, and he made her sit up again so he could look her in the eyes.

Sandra looked in Glen’s eyes as well and she saw that he really did not get it. She wondered how he could be so smart and so stupid at the same time. “Glen, I have a baby.”

“A baby?” Glen still did not get it exactly, but his mind began to race.

“Melissa. She is two.” Sandra said, and then it sunk into Glen’s brain and they got quiet. For a long time, they just looked at each other, face to face, in the privacy of their own minds, but feeling so much. At last, Glen leaned forward, even as she leaned up, and they kissed. She let go of his hand to put her hand behind his head as if she would not let him go. Her lips were moist and warm, and everything Glen imagined they would be. When they finally parted, Sandra grinned like a woman who got what she wanted. But then the something between them rose-up inside of Glen’s soul, and he pulled slowly away and took his arm back in the process.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Glen asked, before he amended the statement. “Can I see you and Melissa?”

“Oh, no,” Sandra tried to protest. “I could never bring her to school. People would ask too many questions, and I just couldn’t.”

“Three O’clock. It’s Friday and the campus will be empty. We could walk in the woods so no one would have to see and ask questions.” The university had natural woods at the back of the campus, with nature trails. They seemed perfect for just such an adventure.

Sandra shook her head ever so slightly, no, but she did not say anything, and the look in her eyes certainly said, yes.

“Come on.” Glen prompted knowing that one kiss would never be enough. “You and Melissa.” He said it with more certainty and Sandra relented as her head began to nod. She looked down and took both of his hands, wondering if this might be the one. She did not feel ready to go home. She wanted to spend some more time with him right then, and maybe share everything, but by then the something came on very strong in Glen’s spirit and he gently pulled his hands free, picked up his backpack, and stepped out of the car.

“Three O’clock,” he said. “I’ll meet you beside Haddon House.” That dorm sat closest to the woods, and Glen closed the car door before Sandra could answer. He walked away and still felt her breath in his face, the touch of her lips on his, and the back of her hand that held him agreeably and said, “Hold me and don’t let go,” and he wondered what he was getting himself into. Sandra had a baby.

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Vordan 2 part 3 of 3

December 24, 2025November 9, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Boston drew in her breath with excitement. Belden and Ms. Franklin did not know what this strange man might be talking about.

“Who?” Lockhart sounded curious.

“Lady Alice,” Glen said.

“Me?” Alice looked surprised, but Lockhart and Glen waved her off.

“I thought she was tied to Avalon,” Lockhart said.

“Not tied to Avalon exactly, but she is more contemporary than the Captain, in a way, and she is tied into the organic net. The change is not required, but in my brain, there would be some lag time in speaking, since the language would have to be filtered through my memory. She has direct access.” Lockhart shrugged. He did not quite follow that, but he smiled when Glen went away and Lady Alice stood in his place. Boston clapped. Ms. Franklin shrieked, but softly. Belden had his mouth open, and Alice shook her head.

“What?” Lady Alice asked her namesake in a voice as sweet as her looks, and Alice the lawyer thought this woman looked almost worse than the Princess. This one easily stood about five-ten with blond hair and medium, sort of light brown eyes that were piercing—not a description normally associated with brown eyes. What is more, that evening gown kind of a dress she wore showed off her slim body perfectly. Any supermodel would die to look like that, and it seemed that the dress itself enhanced this beauty’s movements in a way that appeared more than supermodel graceful. She might call it, sort of ballerina graceful, or even more graceful than that; and the woman looked very pale, like she never spent time in the sun. Lady Alice just finished kissing Lockhart gently on the forehead when Alice the lawyer wrote “Avalon” on her pad and spoke.

“So, you are, what? The Fairy Queen?” That summed things up nicely.

“No.” Alice of Avalon laughed a laugh as sweet as the rest of her and the other Alice thought this one is very different. She could see the Princess could be a great tease and that she had a bit of a bawdy side, but this one probably did not know what bawdy was. This one came across as totally innocent, like a perpetual virgin. What is more, the Princess had more, well, everything—the kind of sexy, attractive beauty that men might fight and even die for. This one seemed more the kind that could only be dreamed about and admired from afar.

“No?” Alice the lawyer found her handwriting fairy queen on her notepad and then felt amazed at what she heard.

“But I have perhaps been spending too much time with her of late. She is so enchanting and rather hard to resist.”

“Alice of Avalon lives in the real Wonderland.” Lockhart smiled and pointed at the Lady.

“Not exactly,” Lady Alice countered and she shook her finger at the man, like a schoolgirl might scold a little boy. “But near enough.” She dropped her hand, smiled that enchanting smile, and gave Lockhart another kiss on the head.

“Um.” Boston hardly knew what to say.

“Lovely to meet you, Boston, dear,” Alice said. “And Belden the brave, and Ms. Franklin too.”

The lawyer wrote on her pad, “and Toto too?” but Lady Alice had not finished.

“Now, I am sorry, but I am going to need some help with this work.” She held out her hand and a metallic circle appeared in her palm. Ms. Franklin held back the shriek this time, but Alice, the lawyer shrieked softly. She held the volume at bay by writing “magic” on her pad, though of course she had already seen the clothing and armor come and go.

Lady Alice stepped up to the window and picked up the microphone with one hand while she placed the circle against her throat with the other hand. She paused and coughed a sweet little cough to clear her throat, a sound so sweet, Alice the lawyer almost felt sickened from the sugar overdose. Then Lady Alice spoke in a deep male voice that sounded like gears grinding in a factory with some crashing of waves against rocks and jackhammers making those rocks into gravel. It sounded loud enough to make everyone cover their ears.

The Vordan immediately stood and answered in kind and he seemed willing to carry on a dialogue for a while, but soon enough, he shut his mouth and though Alice tried several more times, the Vordan clearly decided to say no more. Alice set down the microphone, backed up and sighed, and it came as such a pleasant sound after that cacophony of conversation, everyone sighed with her. Then she vanished. She took that little metal circle with her, and Glen returned.

“Not much information.” Glen said immediately, as if he conducted the interview himself, which Alice the lawyer was beginning to understand that in a sense he had. “This one is merely a soldier and I don’t think he knows anything, except this is not the place they had planned to come and he was not sure if his superiors know how to get home.”

“Great!” Lockhart threw his hands up, which said he thought it anything but great. “We may be stuck with them, and that could make them very dangerous. Don’t underestimate what desperation can do.”

“I need to check in and see what the lab has discovered about the equipment we captured.” Boston changed the subject. “We had better move fast on devising some countermeasures because it looks like we may have to defend ourselves again.” She smiled and kissed Lockhart on the head much as Lady Alice had done, and she patted him on the shoulder while she gave one, longing look at Glen like she did not want to miss anything, but she left.

“I need to arrange a trip to the White House in the morning, I guess.” Glen turned to Lockhart. “Would you mind helping with that, or do you have other duties?”

“Right now, you are my duty,” Lockhart responded. “And kid, when are you going to start telling rather than asking?”

“In my next life. No? Maybe the one after that.”

Alice looked up from her notes and picked them up along with her laptop. “I do need to start working on that treaty, though I don’t see how it will help.” The three of them left together as Belden turned to Ms. Franklin.

“I need a drink.”

~~~*~~~

Well into the night, things finally calmed down to the point where people thought of going home. Despite her prediction, Bobbi managed to wrap things up well enough by midnight so she could take a break for some sleep. The time got far too late to get rooms in town, so she brought Glen and Alice to the infirmary where there were beds, now that those in need had all made the trip to the hospital. They set up a partition to separate the boys from the girls. Glen, Lockhart, and Fyodor, who had a home but lived alone and so opted to stay with them, got one side. Alice, Boston and Bobbi took the other, and it looked like it might be a quiet night, until the women decided they wanted to talk. The men tried to ignore them, but the women did not talk long before Alice invaded the men’s side. She said she had too many questions to sleep, and Boston came because she did not want to miss any of the answers. Bobbi relented last of all and arrived to ask who brought the marshmallows.

“That is an interesting piece of clothing you have on.” Boston noticed. Glen wore what on a glance might have passed for a plain, white undershirt and boxers, but on closer examination, it had a sheen to it that no ordinary cloth would have. When the people brought clothes for them all to sleep in, and fresh clothes for the morning, Glen said, “Thank you, but I’ll just wear what I have.”

“Fairy weave.” Glen named the material. “It is what I wear under my armor and it is extremely light and comfortable, extremely tough and durable, and extremely versatile. I can change the color.” As he spoke, the fabric changed from white to blue to red and back to white again. “I can change the shape and make it appear thicker, more like real clothing.” The arms of his shirt lengthened to full length and his shirt took on a brown and fuzzy appearance, almost like a winter coat before it changed back to a white t-shirt. “It keeps me warm in winter, and acts like air conditioning in the summer, which is great when I’m in chain armor and leather and it is ninety or better outside, and humid.” Glen became introspective, but Alice was not about to leave him alone after that demonstration.

“Fairy weave,” she said. She had her steno pad with her. “You don’t mean real fairies, of course. After all that has happened today, that would just push credibility beyond the beyond. I’m assuming you mean some different sort of aliens, and that clothing is the result of some fantastic technology, no?” She looked around but no one said anything until Boston could not contain herself.

“I always dreamed of fairies when I was young. I wish I could see one someday.”

“Young?” Lockhart looked up from where he lounged in his bed. “You mean like last night?” At least Bobbi smiled. Boston appeared the youngster in the group. Glen imagined she could not have been over twenty-five.

“You know what I mean,” Boston whispered and stared at Lockhart, but that exchange got overshadowed by Alice’s outburst.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Can you think of anything that would mess up history quicker than a bunch of spiritual creatures running around loose in the world?” Bobbi offered the thought.

Glen protested quietly. “Hey! That’s my line.”

Bobbi turned to look at Glen. “As I understand it, he was given responsibility for what he calls his little ones when he was first born and he has had to bear that burden ever since.”

“I think after some six thousand years they have finally gotten the message, though,” Glen added. “They have no business interfering or even making remote connections with the human world. I had a few on my crew when I was a Privateer in the West Indies some years back, but really, in the past few hundred years it has only been incidental contacts.”

“Incidental?” Fyodor spoke for the first time.

“Apart from Lincoln’s wife,” Lockhart said, and to Alice he explained in a secretive whisper. “She’s an elf.”

“Was,” Bobbi corrected the man. “But she has been gone for a whole year now. I meant to ask, but with all that has been going on, it slipped my mind.”

Glen looked up at the ceiling, like he did on the plane at one point. It seemed as if he looked for something that only he could see. “The transformation on Alexis was very thorough, unlike Mirowen, not Doctor Robert’s Mirowen—she’s an elf, too—but you did not know the other Mirowen. Sorry. I’m not getting anything about where Alexis might be.”

“Lincoln spent a lot of time looking for her,” Bobbi said. “Maybe that was why the Vordan picked him up so easily.”

“Topic, people,” Alice interrupted, loudly. “We are getting off topic. I want to hear about the fairies.”

“Why are you surprised?” Fyodor asked.

Alice shook her head. “I don’t know anymore,” she said, flatly.

“Maybe a story would help,” Glen suggested, and the others were agreeable. “I would think with this campout, though, wouldn’t you all rather hear a ghost story?”

“No!” Bobbi, Lockhart and Fyodor all shouted in unison. Boston and Alice just looked at each other with yet more questions.

************************

MONDAY

Pumpkin Seeds, the seeds of love and revenge. Merry Christmas and Happy Reading

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Vordan 2 part 2 of 3

December 23, 2025November 9, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Alice felt rather useless. “I don’t understand,” she admitted. Glen smiled for her as he explained.

“They send a ship into the Carolinas. I assume you had no trouble tracking it.”

“Easy,” Bobbi said. “We know they have two dozen or so ships outside the atmosphere, but normally we can’t track them at all. They do not show up on any of our systems. We only know they are there because of the night shadow effect.”

“Night shadow?” Alice asked.

“Call it the eclipse effect. They show up by blocking the incoming light of the stars; like the old witch flying across the face of the full moon. Anyway, this time they want to be seen to get Bobbi and her crew to follow in force.”

“We figured it was a set-up, alerted Washington, and prepared to defend ourselves for all the good it did; but Boston figured out who they were after so we had to go.”

“You?” Alice looked at Glen. “But you don’t die.” She felt she understood that much whether she believed it or not.

“No, but as a baby I would not be much of a threat to them, especially for the first nine months.”

“I see. Of course.” Alice gulped. “You mean I could be your mother someday?”

Glen lowered his eyes as he looked at her. “Right now, I could be your father, and don’t worry, I have no intention of dying any time soon.”

“I see,” Alice repeated herself. “So, if this outfit, organization or whatever…” She waved her hands to indicate the building and everyone in it. “If they don’t follow the Vordan ship, you get killed, but if they do follow, they take away a big chunk of their defensive capabilities and their headquarters becomes vulnerable.”

“That sums it up,” Glen said, but before he could add a thought, there came a knock on the door. Lockhart came in. His wheelchair had plenty of self-propulsion options, but it looked like he preferred to have Boston push him around.

“Interrupting, I hope,” he said.

“Director. You have a whole line of people waiting outside.” Boston spoke overtop.

“Shut the door,” Bobbi insisted, and turned quickly to Glen. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I need to get Alice started on her job,” Glen said. He leaned forward, took a clean page from Bobbi’s legal pad, and used his pen to write the words, Kargill, Reichgo and Zalanid on the paper. He handed it to Alice. “There are other spellings, but what you want is to corral the legal freaks in this place and get them all working on digging up whatever they can find on the Reichgo-Kargill treaty, terms and conditions, clause after clause.”

“Treaties.” Alice said the word and shook her head softly.

“Think binding contract. We need something we can use legally against the Vordan.”

“Will I be arguing in some galactic court or something?” Alice sounded uncertain about that prospect.

Glen laughed. “No, but here is the quick scoop.” He sat back down in his chair and motioned the others in close, as if he was about to tell the secret of the universe. “The second Reichgo-Kargill war is about to break out and they will spend the next hundred years or so fighting each other to a standstill. So, for the second hundred years, they gather allies, well, the Reichgo mostly get help. The Kargill does not like anybody much. It just barely tolerates the Zalanid, and, well, anyway…anyway. The Vordan enter on the Reichgo side, and eventually are given faster than light technology, but that will not be for a hundred and fifty years or so. Even then, when the Reichgo and Kargill are wiped out, and I mean they exterminate each other, and the third hundred years finds everybody fighting everybody, we do not run into the Vordan until long after the peace. You see? That is what I don’t get. The Vordan are so far away, at sub-light speed, it would take a hundred years to get here, but a hundred years ago they did not have the technology. What are they doing here, now? How did they get here?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Alice said. “But the technology seems pretty advanced if you ask me.”

“Uh-huh.” Boston agreed and nodded her head. This time Lockhart and Bobbi both looked at Glen.

“Believe it or not, on their home world they are not that far ahead of us, technologically speaking. They are war-like, and have ambitions since some fifty, or maybe a hundred years ago, their probes confirmed that there are not only planets around some of their neighboring stars, but a semblance of intelligent life in two places. They poured their resources into developing the means to reach and subjugate those poor alien races, and maybe that war-like drive is the reason the Reichgo took them as allies. I know that was the case with the Orlan and the Bospori; but at this point, they have simply driven themselves into space and into war. They are not concerned about saving their planet, or greening it, or making nice with everybody. Do you know what they do with a rogue state? Boom-de boom, boom. Hang the fallout. Problem solved.”

“Bospori? You mean Martok?” Alice asked. Glen nodded while there came another knock on the door. A head poked in.

“One more minute,” Bobbi shouted and the door shut quickly. “So, Traveler. What will you be doing? Don’t think I forgot the question. I’m not that old, yet.”

Glen shifted in his seat. “Yes, well. I want to get Alice started and then I thought I might go interrogate your prisoner.”

Alice shook her head in a definite no. “I mean, I don’t mind the legal work, whatever, but I’m not leaving your side. Don’t think I am going to miss talking to an alien.” Glen looked hesitant so she added, “Every accused person needs a lawyer.”

“We will read him his rights.” Lockhart laughed, and with a look at Boston, they turned back to the door. Alice rose. Glen asked a question of his own.

“And what will you be doing?”

“Me?” Bobbi thought that was obvious. “I’ll be glued to this chair for at least the next twenty-four hours. I sometimes wonder if you did me a favor.” Glen suggested she accompany them, but only with his hands. She shook him off. She knew her duty. “Go on,” she said. “Let me know what you find out.” And they left.

Legal was on the third floor, and pretty badly damaged by the look of it. Most of the files against the outer walls were unscathed, and the important stuff got backed up in the mainframe in the third basement—the bomb shelter. Alice met some of the others but hardly took the time to get to know them before she swooped up a laptop, a steno pad and a pen, and followed Glen and Lockhart. Boston showed her how to tap into the internal network so she could work while she watched, but she was not going to miss this. The pen and paper were for writing down questions she planned to ask when she had the chance, and she already had a couple of doozies.

The prisoner sat in an isolation tank. The tank had a bed, a table with three chairs around it and a fourth chair pushed against the wall. It also had a toilet and sink behind a short partition, but that was it for decorations. One wall had a mirror behind an unbreakable plastic partition, which, of course, became see-through on their side of the glass. Currently, the Vordan sat at the table with his back to the mirror, and Alice expressed surprise saying that she did not realize they could sit since they appeared to her to walk rather stiffly.

“Probably not as stiff as it would walk now,” Glen said. He noted that the Vordan had been bandaged in several places. The doctors went in there to take tissue and blood samples, but otherwise he guessed no one else had ventured into the room. He was wrong.

“Mister Lockhart?” The man, Belden, asked without asking before he answered Glen’s question. Lockhart merely nodded and Belden opened-up. The woman in that room, Ms. Franklin, stayed busy typing, taping everything the Vordan did, and recording every noise it made, but she watched the exchange between Belden and Glen as well, having some questions of her own.

“Actually, two security officers and professor Singh went in to see if they could communicate with the creature.”

“Person,” Glen corrected. “Just because he isn’t human, that does not make him less of a person. And I bet he rushed the guards.”

“It—he tried to,” Belden said. He looked again at Lockhart as if to say he now had a different set of questions in mind.

“Yes, well don’t do that again without permission. Being taken prisoner is a great shame. He will try to get you to kill him as penance for his sin, and then you will have nothing. Just think of the Japanese in World War II. One opportunity and it is hari-kari.” Glen stepped up to the glass but got interrupted when the phone rang. Belden answered it. He listened for a minute and mumbled before he held out the phone to Lockhart.

“Land line’s back working I see,” Lockhart said, without showing any interest in touching the phone.

“It’s for the Traveler?” Belden did not know what to do except cover the phone. Boston pointed at Glen.

“Who is it?” Glen asked.

“It’s the director, sir.” Belden held out the phone.

Alice mumbled as she wrote a note on her notepad.

“Tell her I’m busy,” Glen turned back to observing the Vordan. Unfortunately, the Vordan did not seem to want to do anything other than sit there. When Glen turned around a second time, he saw everyone staring at him with open mouths, except Lockhart, who covered his laugh.

“Oh, okay.” Glen took the phone. “Bobbi? Yes, I am busy. I was thinking of water boarding. Huh? No, just kidding… What? I don’t know anything yet, you interrupted the process… Calm down, you will know as soon as anyone… Huh? So, sit on them. Tell him to tell them… Tell them that for the first time in history we are all in this together, and now is the time, like no other, to support and help each other, not accuse each other. We need to let the experts do their job if we expect this threat to be neutralized… I don’t care if they don’t believe him… Tell him to tell them anything you like. Look, by the way, tell him I will be up there sometime tomorrow. There is something I need to get out of his office… A secret compartment… No, I am not going to tell you, oh, wait, that would be Lincoln’s office… Yes, Abraham Lincoln. I had to hide it in a hurry… No, I’m not kidding. I suppose that would be the Lincoln bedroom now. Just tell him to try not to push any buttons between now and then… Yes, that time I was kidding.” He handed the phone back to Belden with one more word. “Sheesh!”

“So?” Alice had to know even if no one else did.

“So, the President called. A couple of governments are making noises like the strike on their territories was an American plot.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Ms. Franklin expressed what everyone felt. Glen looked back at the Vordan again with a final comment.

“There is a lot to be said for Boom-de boom, boom.”

“So, what now?” Alice asked.

“So, now I have to be someone else.”

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Vordan 2 part 1 of 3

December 22, 2025November 9, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Glen turned his eyes upward for a moment, as if looking to the heavens might help him bring his memory into focus. “I was really too young for nursery school. I know these days, kids are in day care almost from birth, but back in 1957, that was rather unusual. Back then, most kids got their first introduction to that kind of group, social interaction thing in Kindergarten. My older brother was in kindergarten; but my mother was seven or eight months pregnant with my little sister and so she signed me up, too young or not, so she could spend some quality daytime hours with her new baby. Of course, back then we did not call it quality time. It was just time.” Glen paused to think some more. “That seems to be the story of my life. Time, and there never seems to be enough of it no matter how many lives I live.” Glen sighed and looked at his shoes. “The school was called Happy Hill. In later years, I always thought it sounded more like an asylum than a nursery school.” Glen paused again and returned his eyes to the ceiling, as if seeking something that could not be found.

“Go on,” Bobbi urged him gently. He shook his head so Alice came up with a question.

“So, who is this Mister Smith you keep talking about, and what is a Kargill?”

“Who is the Kargill.” One of the men at the table suggested.

“No,” Glen countered. “In the Kargill’s case, what may be more appropriate. Mister Smith is a Zalanid and servant of the Kargill. He spends a lot of time in suspended animation, but the Kargill revives him whenever it has to deal directly with humans, and that is inevitably when there are unauthorized aliens about.”

“I take it this Mister Smith and this Kargill are more space aliens, like the Vordan,” Alice said, and everyone nodded.

“That is why we are concerned that he has not shown up, especially since the Vordan have been sending scout ships to Earth for a month that we know of,” Bobbi said.

“But what gives this Kargill the right to decide which aliens are unauthorized?” Alice wondered, and everyone looked at Glen, though they knew the basic story.

“Treaty,” Glen said. “The Kargill and Reichgo fought a war several centuries ago. The Zalanid mediated a peace treaty, part of which included the Zalanid survivors becoming servants to the Kargill. The Kargill got Earth, which was lucky for us, because it just sits and watches. It hates any outside interference with the natural course and development of a planet. The Reichgo would have had us in slavery.”

“When was that space war?”

“Seventeenth Century. Days of the English Civil War. I cannot remember much about that time except not liking Cromwell. I remember it had something to do with my husband.”

“There’s a thought,” Bobbi said. “You with a husband.”

Glen stuck his tongue out at her. “I have a wife. No reason Elizabeth should not have had a husband.”

“But what happened?” The young woman at the table who was supposed to be working spoke up. “With little Glen, I mean.” She caught Bobbi’s look and turned her eyes to the papers in front of her, but her ears were clearly on the story.

Glen smiled before he stumbled and dropped to the floor. The plane hit what felt like more than just turbulence.

“Fyodor.” Bobbi called out for an explanation. “Fyodor!” Bobbi demanded an answer even as the plane settled down.

“Minute,” came the response.

“He’s on the com.” One of the young men at the table spoke and gathered their attention. He fiddled with the computer screen in front of him and he checked a radar screen behind his shoulder before he spoke again. “F-15 fly-by, and a bit close if you ask me.”

“Everyone in Washington is paranoid,” Lockhart said to no one in particular.

“As opposed to you folks?” Alice asked, dryly. “So, we are going to Washington?”

“Already there,” the man by the window said. “My name is Josh by the way.” He paused long enough to give Bobbi a sharp look but it gave Glen a chance to get a word in.

“I remember you.”

Josh continued. “Our resident black in black is Wilson.”

“Willie Wilson,” Lockhart interrupted.

“Any relation to the ball player?” Glen asked his friend.

“Basketball?” Wilson looked up.

“Baseball,” Glen and Lockhart said at the same time.

“Kansas City,” Lockhart added. “Before your time.”

“Hey!” The young woman at the table protested at being left out. Josh corrected the oversight with one word.

“Boston.”

“Mary Riley.” She shook Alice’s hand. “Pleased to meet you,” she said before she smoothed back her short red hair and reached for Glen’s hand. “And an honor to finally meet you. I’ve read all about you.”

“There’s a scary thought.” Glen returned the girl’s smile.

“No, really,” Boston said. She took a seat on their side of the table and swiveled away from the table so she could face them all and completely neglect her work. “Only, somehow I thought you would be taller.”

“I used to be,” Glen said with a look at Bobbi who understood. “And sometimes I am.”

“That was the Princess, wasn’t it?” The poor girl could not contain herself.

“You want to see this.” Fyodor spoke from up front. Wilson already turned on their side of the two-sided television. Obviously, the plane had cameras outside pointed in every possible direction. Right then, the screen said “Below.” They saw a five-story building in a pastoral setting, which Glen knew rested out in the middle of some Virginia farmland, only the building had a big hole in the roof, and smoke seeping out of the hole. It looked black down there as well, as if there were no lights at all. Bobbi did not have to say anything. Fyodor overshot the building and settled for the flat field beyond that was on the building side of some woods.

Josh apologized. “We had no contact with the office since we left. You said to keep quiet so as not to tip our hand,”

“But on the way back?” Bobbi did not look happy, but she did not look mad at her crew, just worried.

“I thought they were maintaining the silence until we returned.” Josh spoke honestly enough. It did not seem an unreasonable assumption.

“Well, we’ve returned,” Lockhart said, flatly.

“No.” Josh shook his head. “Nothing. They must have busted the communications center.”

“And who knows what else,” Bobbi said. They were down and she stood up and got impatient. “The door,” she insisted, but she still had to wait until the engines were off.

“Boston.” Lockhart called, and the young woman came to wheel him down the ramp. “My nurse,” Lockhart explained. Glen and Alice both looked at Josh and Wilson, but the two of them got busy checking and shutting down the systems.

“Ugh.” Boston shoved a little to get Lockhart’s wheelchair over the lip at the doorway.

“I’m an equal opportunity employer,” Lockhart said.

Glen smiled. “So how is Hello, come in?”

“My sister is fine,” Lockhart looked toward the building but did not focus, like he looked at something far away in space and time. “Divorced. But she has three good kids. She is fine.”

Glen felt glad to hear that she was fine, even if he could not exactly remember what had been wrong.

Several golf carts came down from the building to pick them up, so they had no time to say any more. Bobbi looked too anxious and Lockhart would be a few minutes getting down the ramp and saddled up in a cart. Bobbi got in the first vehicle and patted the back seat. “Traveler,” she said, and Glen grabbed Alice’s hand to make sure she came with them.

The building looked bad from the outside. Most of the systems were down, not just communications, and smoke billowed out the front doors. Some of the fires had just been extinguished. People waited at the door and others ran up to Bobbi with reports as Bobbi, Glen, and Alice made their way inside. Bobbi never stopped walking so everyone had to keep up. Some chose to walk backwards. They stared at Glen and Alice, but since they were with Ms. Brooks, no one bothered them, and no one hesitated to speak in their presence. The first thing they all heard was that there were reports coming in from around the globe on the emergency short-wave frequencies. They were in code, of course, and that took a bit of time to translate without the computers functioning properly.

“They hit offices around the world at more or less the same time.”

“It looks like a very coordinated effort, but we drove them off and so did most of the other operation centers.”

“A couple of F-15s flew over from the capitol and the attackers did not appear ready for that kind of fight. They got out, but the fly-boys managed to disable one of their fighter ships.”

“We hauled it into the back barn which is why you didn’t see it.”

“We got a prisoner on ice.”

“Personnel.” A woman spoke above the din. “Three dead and seven wounded. All others accounted for apart from your crew.”

“Readouts indicate a standard plasma propulsion system.”

“Weapons appear laser-like with minimal disrupter effect.”

“Hold it.” Bobbi reached a door, stepped in, let Glen and Alice in with her, but kept all the others out. “Give me five minutes, and then I want to hear the report from personnel first.” Before she shut the door, she added, “Oh, and they are called Vordan. Start a search if the mainframe is still operational.” She shut the door firm and loud and looked at Alice. “The truth is, we are all just paper pushers.” She took the big seat behind the desk and let out a great big sigh.

“Bobbi was a file clerk when I met her.” Glen grinned.

“I probably file more things now than ever,” Bobbi responded with a grin of her own.

Glen sat in the chair that faced the desk and fiddled with the pens in his pocket. Alice opted for the couch where she could keep an eye on the two of them, and on the door.

“Well?” Bobbi said the word, but her tone showed the exasperation at having to say it aloud.

“Well what?” Glen started thinking. Alice got ready to say something when Glen continued. “Sounds military to me, coordinated like that. You said battleships on the moon?”

“We just called them that because we did not know what else to call them. Lincoln calculated that they were about the size of battleships or maybe aircraft carriers.”

“Yes, where is Lincoln?” Glen asked. He remembered the man from several past encounters. Not the bravest fellow. CIA if he remembered correctly.

“Disappeared,” Bobbi said. “About the same time we discovered the Vordan.”

“Not likely a coincidence,” Glen said.

“Could not possibly be,” Bobbi agreed.

“Too bad because I bet he could have everything summed up by now in that little notebook of his.” Glen pulled a pen and pretended to write, like he held a little hand-sized notebook. He also made a face which Alice felt must have been a fair caricature because Bobbi laughed, softly, before she burst out with it.

“Glen. I have three dead.”

“I know,” Glen said.

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Happy Hill part 6 of 6

December 17, 2025November 9, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The far wall cracked and about a quarter of the potential hole in the wall fell away.

Martok did not make a very big target since he stood so short. Only his head and shoulders stuck out above the lab table, but all the same, he caught a bullet in the facemask in his cape. The cape hardened immediately and rejected the bullet, but not before the bullet pushed into his lip and he bit his own lip with his very sharp teeth. He ducked down and let out a very loud roar in his frustration. That sound caused every person in all three rooms to stop what they were doing and tremble, but Martok could not worry about that. His anger flared, and he grabbed the nearest chunk of Reichgo equipment and heaved it toward the far wall. This time the wall collapsed entirely, and Martok shot the box he saw with his laser-gun. The box had blinking lights, and those lights went out instantly. In the same instant, the three men in the next room as well as the two in the quarantined room collapsed, unconscious.

Martok ran and jumped into the quarantined room without waiting for the fire extinguishers to put out all the flames. Teacher Nancy came right on his heels. “Glen, you are not escaping me. I don’t care how strange you get.” She spoke with as much volume in her words as she could muster and still whisper. The whisper, though no longer necessary, made Martok smile at the thought and feel good about the sentiment. It abated his anger.

After a quick examination of the room, he headed straight for the box, which sat on a table in the center of the room.

David and Pickard came to join them after a moment while the others removed the brain controllers, as they were calling them. Goldman collected them and carefully to be sure he got them all. He did not want one of these scientists slipping one in a pocket for later examination.

“What is it?” David asked when he arrived.

“A computer,” Martok said, as he took off the cover to see what damage he did.

“Don’t be daft,” Pickard objected. “Computers are great big things with reels of magnetic tape and stacks of punch cards. This can’t be a computer.”

“Well.” Martok paused as he looked inside. He took a moment to put his hood down and sent his helmet back to where it came from, while he called for Mishka’s black bag. He pulled out the magnifying glass and examined some of the silicon chips to be sure he had not melted them. “Actually, this unit probably has more computing power than every computer currently working on the Earth put together; but this is only a relay system.”

“No.” The scientists arrived and did not believe what they heard.

“What are these?” One man held up what looked like a pair of headphones. Martok glanced over. There were about twenty on the table there and several unfinished ones as well.

“Brain controllers. Probably the only way Earth technology could make them, but they would have the same effect as the neck chips if worn.”

“No.” That one man seemed determined not to believe any of it.

Martok found a speaker that he could turn into a microphone. He ripped the hot wire out of his laser contraption and turned to David. “Unplug.” David ran back through the other rooms to where he could pull the plug. He brought the whole extension cord into the quarantined room while Martok wired up what he called the relay computer. When it got plugged in, he immediately rattled off a long string of numbers. Then he switched off for a minute. “Gentlemen.” He turned to face the crowd but looked at Goldman. “You need to see who else may be unconscious in this building and be sure to get all of the brain controllers removed, starting with the Director.”

“The Director?” Nancy asked. She wondered if it would be safe since Doctor Mishka appeared so concerned that they not touch him.

“He should be fine by now,” Martok said, and again, he did not add the words, I hope. “But you and David can stay with me. I will need your help.” Then he paused while the others grumpily left the room. They were certain they were going to miss something important. “Pickard.” Martok caught the man’s attention at the last minute. “Please make sure Goldman gets them all. If anything scares you, the idea of controlling people’s minds in that way should be at the top of the list.”

“Oh, it does. It is.” Pickard responded. “On this planet, we just overcame a fellow named Hitler not that long ago. I shudder to think what might have happened.”

Martok nodded and waited for them to close the door before he turned on the relay computer and spoke. “Reichgo. This is the Kairos. The Kargill will be informed concerning what you tried here. If you try it again, I will be very angry.” He switched off, began to dismantle the console and added for the two present, “They do not want to get me angry.”

“I can believe that.” David said, as he and Nancy looked around at the room for the first time. They held hands, needing the human touch at that moment. It did not take long for Martok to dismantle and break the relay computer and his makeshift laser gun so they could not be rebuilt and would yield no real information to close examination. He did slip a few pieces into Doctor Mishka’s black bag, but otherwise he left the junk where it lay. When he turned to the couple, Nancy surprised him by reaching out to touch his alien, bloody lip.

“Just blood.” Martok assured her. “We are more alike than you know, but I will be fine.” He tried to smile despite his puffy lip but decided his best option was to go away. Doctor Mishka returned. “And now there is but one more thing to do.” She turned to her bag and pulled out what looked like a bug bomb. She set it off where it would seep into the corners of all the connected rooms. She escorted David and Nancy into the hall and went to the unconnected rooms across the hall to toss something like a horse pill into each—a pill that split on contact with the floor and fogged those rooms as well.

She assured Nancy and David that the fog would not hurt the unconscious people in those rooms. “It is merely an anti-viral that should clean up any residue of the pox on the men and the equipment.” Then she smiled for her teacher before she turned to David with instructions. “Tell Goldman to collect all of the Reichgo equipment and the homemade brain controllers as well and lock them away in his own building. Tell him I will be along to collect them at some later date. Now, be sure he gets them all and everything. Please, David. There are some things the human race does not yet need to know. I only have you to depend on.”

Nancy voiced her thought. “I assume the Reichgo decided if they got the smartest minds in the nation under control, it would not be hard to get the rest.”

“Not to mention they needed those minds first because they would be the only ones bright enough to figure out how to build more controllers with the limitations of the technology.”

“It is hard to think that way,” David said. “The Labs was always years ahead of the rest of the world, but all of this makes me feel like we have not begun to learn anything yet.”

“And the scary part is realizing how close we came to being taken,” Nancy said. The others looked at her without verbalizing their questions. She got it, though, and fleshed out her thought. “We would not have known anything if Bobby Thompson had not gotten sick.”

“Quite right,” Mishka agreed. “The Reichgo might have succeeded if one of them had not had a cold.”

“Kind of H. G. Wells in reverse,” David said.

“Indeed.” Mishka spoke as a wry smile broke out on her face. “Mister Wells was a strange man, but nice in a way.” Nancy and David looked at her and then smiled at their own thoughts. Mishka spoke again. “Now I believe it is time we got back to school.”

Nancy looked quickly at her watch. “My God, David. It’s eleven-thirty. The Moms will all be showing up.” She stuck her hand out and David reached for his keys. “I have to get Glen back before his mother wonders where he is. I’ll bring the Hudson right back after we are closed up.” She reached down, picked Glen up off the floor and hugged the boy. Without realizing it or noticing, Mishka had vanished and Glen had finally been allowed to return to his own time and place. As Nancy carried him and followed David to the front door, where one of the security guards tried in vain to wake the other one, Glen put his head down on Teacher Nancy’s soft shoulder. He yawned a big yawn. It had to be his naptime.

************************

MONDAY

While Bobbi and Lockhart flew off to collect Glen (and Alice) the Vordan attacked the home base of the Men in Black. Until Monday, Happy Reading

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Happy Hill part 5 of 6

December 16, 2025November 9, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Goldman, David, and Nancy kept whispering “Quiet” to the others, but these were men of science, not Special Forces operatives. They had questions, and the Princess simply could not answer them all, in part because she herself might risk endangering the future if she said too much.

“Hold it!” That word sounded a bit loud, but the room quieted for a second. “I promise I will show you all something, but first you have to promise that you will not make a sound no matter what.”

“Okay. Fine. Sure.” They were not even quiet saying that.

“Now I mean it.” The Princess reduced her own voice to a sharp whisper. “I am going to change and I don’t want to hear one peep out of any of you.”

The men all nodded, two leered, but as the Princess looked at her special friends. David, Nancy and Goldman knew what she was talking about. The others had no idea. When the Princess vanished and Martok, the Bospori came to be in her place, three men had their mouths covered by other hands, Pickard had his own hand over his own mouth, but of the two uncovered mouths, one man shrieked, and it came out rather loud. Everyone stood still. Someone knocked on the door.

“Professor Braun, everything okay in there?”

David grabbed the man and shoved him toward the door with a whisper. “Yes, yes. My hand just slipped with the screwdriver.” He wrapped Doctor Mishka’s handkerchief around Professor Braun’s hand. The men in the room quickly ducked down behind the table and equipment while Braun cracked the door. Braun looked back once, but David, who stood behind the door, nodded to encourage him.

“Yes, yes,” Braun said. “My hand just slipped with the screwdriver.” He said the line like a hack actor, but then he grinned and held up his hand wrapped with the handkerchief. There was a long pause before everyone heard the voice again.

“Okay. Just be careful.”

“Oh, I will, I will,” Braun said, and he smiled and shut the door.

They waited until they were sure the man had moved on. Martok worked the whole time, piecing a few alien and human bits of equipment together and attaching it to the laser array. He had Pickard, Braun and several others looking over his shoulder by the time he finished. “Don’t go on the stage.” Martok suggested to Braun at last. “Your acting stinks.” He turned with a smile, but there was no disguising the deep alien tone and tenor of Martok’s Bospori voice, even in a whisper, and then his eyes were also yellow and cat-like, or perhaps snake-like. Braun almost let out another shriek, but this time he bit down on his own hand, hard—the one wrapped in the handkerchief, and a few drops of blood appeared on the white linen.

“What will it do?” One man on the other side of the lab table, one who had not gotten a glimpse of those eyes, asked.

“Nothing yet. I need a power source. This equipment is all dead.”

People started to look around the room. One person picked up a Bunsen burner while another pointed to the wall outlets. Braun said, “Mmmph” through his hand and handkerchief and went to a cabinet where he pulled out fifty feet of heavy-duty outdoor extension cord.

“Good.” Martok immediately cut the end and hot-wired the cord to his contraption.

“One-ten or two-twenty?” a man asked.

“One-ten will do,” Martok said, and he nodded when he felt ready.

“But what will it do?” The same man asked the same question.

“Watch,” Martok said, and he lifted the contraption and pointed it at the wall, only to lower it again before he switched it on. “Any fire extinguishers in this room?”

One of the men grabbed one off the wall, and Braun took a small one out of a drawer while everyone backed up a giant step. They had been crowding the place where he pointed the laser. Martok lifted it again but paused and lowered it a second time as he spoke.

“You realize, I did not have time to check every circuit. I hope this thing doesn’t blow up, funny as that might be.”

Everyone took another giant step back, or two, and Martok whipped the laser up and immediately began to cut a hole in the wall. “Better than a blow torch,” he quipped, as the wallboard proved no match for the laser. Unfortunately, an old plaster wall stood under the wallboard and that took a little longer to cut, but not much. Martok felt a bit afraid that the laser might be scorching the next wall over, but he knew they were three rooms from the quarantined room and he knew it would not go that far. In all it did not take more than a minute and Martok switched off his toy. He handed it to Nancy who took it in her shaking hands and dared not move a muscle, while he stepped forward to examine his handiwork. Martok came from the Bospori world, a planet with a heavier gravity than Earth. He looked short, only stood about five-feet tall, but he weighed more than an ordinary human, being more densely built than a human, and on Earth, he was about as strong as a gorilla. In this case, all he had to do was tap the wall section and it fell away. It made a great racket in the process.

“We need to move fast.” Goldman stated the obvious while the man with the big fire extinguisher sprayed the edges of the opening to cool them so people could go through. Martok went first and noticed that the second wall had indeed been scorched. Others ran to the door to lock it in case the men outside were inclined to check out the noise. Martok found something in that room to enhance the power of the laser and it took a few seconds to work it into his contraption, but he reduced the range of the laser and went right back at it. The second wall came down faster than the first.

David ran back to the first room and pulled the plug as they had reached the end of their tether. “I hope you haven’t cut through the power lines,” he said, as he plugged it into their current room. Meanwhile, Martok studied the next wall and used his sensitive hearing to listen in. When he was sure, he turned to everyone in the room.

“Gentlemen. Nancy. They have invaded the next room so we have to be prepared for a firefight.”

“My room?” Pickard asked, knowing full well whose room it was.

“I hope we don’t damage anything vital, but we have to go through that room to reach the quarantined room. I will be cutting a little higher than normal in case Rupert is still slumped against the wall.” He paused and found one of the scientists who had served in the Navy and knew something about firearms. That man got David’s gun, over David’s objection, and he and Goldman each took a side of the lab table to give them some cover. He made everyone else go back into the last room and promise not to stick their heads into the opening in the wall. “You would be no more than rabbits in a shooting gallery, so please keep your heads down.” He turned the laser up to full power with the hope that he might cut through the wall to Pickard’s room and the wall to the quarantined room at the same time.

Martok called to the Traveler’s helmet—a Greek looking helmet with a faceplate that left two eye openings. It appeared like magic and covered his whole head, and he pulled the hood of his cloak over the helmet as well and caused the cloak to grow and come together over his mouth and nose, like he would if he walked through the desert, or got caught by a sudden snowstorm. He put goggles overall, but there was not much he could do about his eyes. He needed to see what he was doing, but in that way, he became as protected as possible from any bullets that might come in his direction.

He touched the on switch and a brilliant flash of light flared once and went out. Martok let out a few words in his alien tongue and banged his makeshift laser on the lab table. Immediately, it flared up again, and this time, with the enhancements, it made very short work of the wall. It also started the wall on fire in several places and that might be a problem if they could not get to it quickly.

“Ready?” Martok asked his gunmen, but he did not wait for an answer. He picked up an engine casing, something too heavy for a human to lift, and chucked it at the wall. It exploded the wall and caused the three men in that room to jump back. Goldman got off the first shot and miraculously caught one of the men in the shoulder despite all the rubble that flew through the air. Then one of the men returned fire, and the navy man realized it was his turn. He did not hit anything, but then the bullets flew. Martok ignored it all. He had picked up another smaller, but more solid piece of equipment, one about the size of an oversized softball and he threw it as hard as he could for the far wall while he prayed that the laser had cut that far.

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Happy Hill part 4 of 6

December 15, 2025November 8, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Come.” The Princess said as she cracked the door to check the hallway. She had to step over to grab Nancy by the hand, but as soon as they were out the door, David and Goldman followed. “I’m not allowed out of the school without my teacher.” The Princess teased, as she kicked open the door to the emergency stairwell and climbed to the third floor. She stopped there and turned to David.

“Glen?” David asked.

“Still me.” The Princess responded.

“Princess.” Goldman identified her. He huffed and puffed a bit.

“Out of shape.” The Princess slapped him in the stomach with the back of her hand, but not hard, and she smiled.

“No one is in your shape,” he responded and turned to David and Nancy. “She works out most of the time, and with those weapons, too; but hunting and tracking and sneaking around buildings are her specialties.”

“Hush.” The Princess quieted him. “Which way, David?” she asked in a whisper.

David had to think for a minute before he pointed. They were by chance on the right floor, but they had some hallways to navigate. The Princess went first in that armor of hers to sniff out the way. She kept Nancy close at hand, but behind her as much as possible, just in case. David had picked up a gun from the floor and Goldman had his out of his holster and in his hand. Both men hoped they would not have to use them.

By chance or good fortune, or the skill of the Princess, the halls were empty and they quickly reached the laboratory rooms they were searching for. The Princess got ready to enter the first door she found, but David pulled them along to the second door. He pointed at the first and said, “Quarantined.”

“The pox room,” the Princess said, and David slapped himself in the head for not realizing that sooner. That slap seemed a very dangerous thing to do with a gun in his hand.

“Pickard.” David called as they entered the second room down the hall. The man sat on a high stool against a lab table that might have come out of any high school science room. He looked up. There were chalkboards on the wall, the start of an equation on one, and file cabinets against one wall with some other chairs and a few end tables. A second man sat at the lab table opposite Pickard, in the midst of his own project, and every open space, including a good bit of the floor, looked covered with equipment of one kind or another.

“David.” Pickard recognized his friend.

“Check him.” The Princess turned to Goldman who raised his gun and walked to where the two men stared at him with unbelieving eyes.

“Put your head down and hold still,” Goldman said. Pickard looked at his friend, but David assured him.

“Just do it. Everything will be all right. Rupert, you are next.”

Pickard complied while Goldman and Nancy examined the back of his neck and checked through his bushy brown hair. Rupert ran for the door. He did not get far. The Princess’ long knife shot across the room and pinned the man’s lab coat and probably his shirtsleeve as well to the chalkboard with the equation. Rupert looked like a pinned butterfly as David and Goldman ran to grab the man. David had to hold him, which was not too hard since David was young and Rupert was old. Goldman had to look hard to find the thing.

“He’s clean as far as I can tell.” Nancy said of Pickard.

“Got it.” Goldman announced at about the same time, and as he separated the little thing from Rupert’s neck. Rupert collapsed into unconsciousness. The Princess raised her hand and her knife vacated the chalkboard, like it had a will of its own, and sprang back to her hand. As soon as she put it away, she traded places once again with Doctor Mishka so she could examine the man on the floor. Rupert lay, out cold, but the Doctor saw no sign of serious trauma or permanent damage. It appeared as if he was asleep, and she wondered if he had slept since receiving his little brain modifier.

“He should be all right after a while,” she said, and thought, I hope; but she did not say that part out loud. Instead, she went away again and let the Princess return.

“Look. What is this all about?” Pickard started to ask, but he paused as the Princess began to examine the things on the table.

“A piece of the engine, useless in itself and no great technological wonder. Navigation system with everything of real value removed. Broken weapons array, but these are just fancy switches. Junk, junk, junk. Who said you would get anything out of this?”

David and Pickard looked at each other. David spoke. “The Director got very excited that first day and said there was no telling what we might discover.”

“You know what these things are?” Pickard sounded amazed. He saw the Princess in her armor, an unusual enough sight. He just saw her change to the Doctor and change back again to the Princess, though his eyes glossed over that sight because his mind told him people did not do such things. But as for her knowing what some of this alien equipment was; now, that was impressive.

“We clear the hall and then head for the Quarantine room.” The Princess looked at the others. She meant it as a question, but it came out like a statement.

“Sounds like a plan.” Goldman said.

“I’m in.” David said, though the Princess feared the man might shoot himself if he ever used that gun.

“Can I come?” Pickard did not want to be left out.

The Princess looked at Nancy, but Nancy looked surprised. “Me? I’m not letting Glen out of my sight.” It was settled.

Seven identical rooms later and there were eight people sleeping things off. They had also gathered a crowd of five more like Pickard. The Princess pronounced everything she saw junk, and she assured everyone that the only things they might get out of their work were things that would be discovered in the next three to six years anyway, including the laser.

“But isn’t that exciting? An actual working light accelerator.” At least Pickard got excited. The Princess smiled for him, but as she tried to hustle that whole crowd back to the quarantine room, she was not surprised to see several gunmen guarding the door. She backed everyone up to the laser room before they were seen and took a much longer look at that piece of equipment. She studied the simple laser reader, like for a disc or some such thing. She turned it over, opened it, and decided it could be adapted in the right pair of hands.

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Happy Hill part 3 of 6

December 10, 2025November 8, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The security guard seemed pleasant enough. “Morning Doctor Shakowski. Missus.” He even touched his hat before he looked hard into the back seat. “No visitors. I’m sorry Ma’am, you won’t be allowed in.”

“She is with the government people.” David began to lie, but Mishka interrupted and handed forward a slim billfold, such as the FBI sometimes carry. It had some kind of identification in it, one that even had a picture attached. The picture looked like Mishka, a bit older, but who can really tell with such pictures? Mishka, accent and all, said flatly that she worked for the National Security Administration and she reported directly to the President.

“I am here to investigate yesterday’s incident.”

“Yes ma’am, er, Colonel.” The security guard appeared impressed with her and her credentials, as well as the fact that she knew about the incident. Of course, there were local police and firemen all over the place yesterday, but somehow the security guard had the idea that the incident was a secret, like so much else at the Labs. He handed back Mishka’s billfold and waved them through.

“National Security Administration?” David asked, as soon as they were clear.

“Agency, I think, in this country. I have a long history of working with the Men in Black.” David and Nancy did not know what that was, but Teacher Nancy had another question.

“Colonel?”

“Soviet, but it was just window dressing for the war.”

“The First World War?” David asked as he parked.

“No, Second,” Mishka answered. “The one where I was at Stalingrad.” She smiled and asked her own question. “Shakowski?”

“Polish,” David said. Mishka started to say something in a foreign language, undoubtedly Polish, but David shook his head. “Fourth generation,” he said.

The security at the front door seemed much less accommodating than the man at the gate. One guard took Doctor Mishka’s credentials and stepped behind a desk to make a call while the other blocked the way.

“What is the problem?” Nancy asked David, and quietly, but the guard in front of them answered her all the same.

“Someone from the NSA already showed up this morning,” he said, and with that, the guard at the desk hung up his phone and three men in suits, two gray and one black, approached the front door. David knew the two in gray suits. They were internal security and government men. Mishka knew the other.

“Goldman!” Mishka ran to hug the man. He looked surprised, like a man being hugged by a complete stranger, before something triggered in his mind.

“Doctor? Mishka?” He backed up a little to look at her. She nodded. “But you are so young, and pretty, if I can say that.”

Mishka grinned and took the man’s arm. “You can always say that, but I do get around in time, you know, or did you forget.”

“But how did you get, you know, younger?” He paused and looked pale for a minute. “I heard you died.”

“Ah!” Mishka had to decide what might be safe to say before she spoke. “After I died, Lady Alice revived me. I regenerated and got to go into cold storage until needed.” To Goldman’s curious look, she added, “I believe the current science fiction name is suspended animation.” That helped a little. “David. Nancy. This is Goldman, one of the Men in Black I was telling you about.” She made the introductions, and without a breath, she asked Goldman “Is young Jax around?” Then she added one more thing before breathing. “Goldman saved Churchill’s life in the second war, just to be sure which war we are talking about.”

“Hold it,” Goldman said, as he finished shaking Nancy’s hand. “I helped, maybe a little.”

“Ma’am.” The guard at the front door returned Mishka’s identification papers.

“These gentlemen were just taking me to Doctor Thompson’s office when you arrived.” Goldman continued.

“Good idea. Start with the director.” David nodded, and the two men in suits turned without a word and began to lead the way. Mishka, still holding the man’s arm, turned Goldman and followed while David and Nancy brought up the rear. When they arrived at the director’s office and went straight inside, Mishka asked another question.

“How about Mister Smith. Is he around?”

Goldman shook his head. “It is borderline, since the Reichgo have visitation rights in the treaty. Ultimately, that is for the Kargill to decide.”

The door closed. The director sat behind the desk; his face covered in a deep, red rash. He said, simply, “Hold them.” The two men in gray suits pulled their guns.

Someone else stepped into Mishka’s eyes, to take in the scene and make a quick assessment. Then Mishka no longer stood there. Diogenes came, dressed in full armor and weapons, and he spun and caught the hand of the man nearest to him. He turned that hand just so, in order for the bullet to enter his comrade’s middle. That comrade also fired, but his bullet hit Diogenes in the shoulder, bounced off the armor, and left only a small bruise. As Goldman made certain of the man on the floor, Diogenes let his hands work over the man beside him. It required short work. The man slumped to the floor, not likely to rise for some time.

David and Nancy stared when Diogenes turned and flashed his awesome smile in their direction. He shrugged, went away, and let Doctor Mishka return to Glen’s time and place. Mishka kept the armor though, and David and Nancy watched it adjust automatically to this new shape and size. Doctor Mishka stood a couple of inches shorter, though still a tall woman at a bit over five-foot-eight, and she certainly had a different shape, but no one would think the armor was not made for her.

“We need an ambulance here.” Goldman said from the floor.

“Wait. Don’t touch him.” Mishka ordered, and while everyone thought she was talking about the man on the floor, she noticed that the Director had gotten up. He sweated from fever, and the rash looked more extensive on his face than anyone had ever seen. He staggered around the desk, held on to keep from falling, and he did not look happy.

Everyone backed up when they realized what was happening, but when Mishka returned, she returned with her black bag, and she opened it. The Director just let go of the desk to stand before her as she pulled a spray bottle from the bag and sprayed it inches from the Director’s face. The man paused. Doctor Mishka sprayed a second time. With the third spray, the man went completely limp and collapsed to the floor like a rag doll.

Mishka turned quickly. “David. Please phone for an ambulance. Don’t tell them what happened, just say an ambulance is needed stat—immediately.”

“Right.” David started for the phone but paused when Doctor Mishka handed him an old-fashioned handkerchief.

“Contact is the way this appears to spread and even immunized it is better to be safe.” Mishka looked again at the Director. His case looked like the worst she had seen, and she revised her estimates as to how virulent the disease might be in humans.

“Doctor.” Goldman spoke from the floor where he and Nancy knelt beside the unconscious man. They had turned him over and Goldman held something in a pair of tweezers. “It came from the back of the neck, just under the hairline,” he said.

Mishka reached into her black bag and pulled out what looked like an old-fashioned magnifying glass, such as Sherlock Holmes might carry. Teacher Nancy watched as Mishka touched something and the lens on the glass illuminated with a small, white light. She moved in close when Mishka twisted the handle and examined the little thing.

“Very sophisticated. I would guess designed to interfere with brain functions, maybe sending continuous signals that would be nearly impossible to resist. I can see to the viral level with the glass, but I see no sign of infection which may be why these two men were not broken out with the pox.”

“Viral?” Nancy widened her eyes. “That would be very small.”

“Da.” Mishka said, and she put the magnifying glass and the little thing into her black bag.

“Medical team on the way.” David hung up the phone.

“Now we must move,” Mishka said. She vanished and the Princess came to stand in her place. The Princess smiled for everyone and again they saw that the armor had adjusted to a woman that was an inch or so shorter and a figure that looked near perfection. To be sure, Doctor Mishka was very pretty, what some might even call beautiful; but she was not the Princess.

************************

MONDAY

Mishka and company have to find and source of the disease and end it, but in the process they find another way the Reichgo are toying with the human race. Until Monday, Happy Reading