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Family Matters
© 2022 by Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
tegerio, color by 
Major Matt Mason
Part Thirty-eight
Matt:
One of my ears flicked, and I started paying attention.
“Seagull Victor, Nest, radar contact,” I heard Heathcliff say. “You seeing this?”
“Seagull Victor, we see it. What do you make of it?”
“Dunno. No visual – “
And then, to put it simply, the metabolic residue hit the air-circulator.
WHACK!
The ship suddenly spun, flat, to the left, before going into a half-roll to the right and finally coming to rest, rocking back and forth. Princess Persephone screamed, and her husband blurted, “What the Netherhells?” as restraints suddenly snapped into place around all four of the passengers. I agreed with Gawain’s sentiments, but I was busy.
What?
Oh, all right, fine. I faw down, go Boom, okay?
To my credit, I was back on my feet and looking out the window mighty damned quickly. The feeling under my feet told me that the flight crew had the craft under artigrav, but what caused the feeling in my gut was the sight of the left wingtip.
It wasn’t there, apart from a few shreds of composite.
I turned toward the guests. “Are all of you all right?” Three sets of eyes, one furious, one concerned, and one terrified, looked back at me. The King was asleep, lucky skunk. Yes, I mean that literally.
“What happened, Colonel?” Marshal Roland asked.
“One moment, please.” I poked my head into the flight control cabin. “Status?”
“On artigrav, two hundred meters altitude,” Gertrude said promptly. “Ship’s flyable.”
“Okay. Hundred thousand credit question: What the ____ did we hit?”
Heathcliff pointed out the window. “You’re looking at it.”
“I don’t see anything.”
Richard tapped the radar screen, and I looked down. Whatever was out there, it was sending out a solid return. “Do we have a flare launcher?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Aim at the center of the radar return. Wait one.” I went back, where Gawain had unbuckled his restraints. Marshal Roland was somewhat slower off the mark, but getting there. “Your Highness,” I said to the Crown Prince, “you need to see this,” and I beckoned to him to join me on the flight deck.
“What am I looking at?” he asked peevishly, gazing out the front window.
“Well, it’s there,” and I pointed at the radar return, “but it’s not there,” and I pointed out at the sky in front of us. To Gertrude I said, “Fire the flare.”
The flare shot out, flew a short distance, nice and bright – and bounced.
I glanced at Gawain, who was staring openmouthed. “A Gap?”
“Yes, Your Highness, seems like it. Looks like we hit it as one was forming.”
“Are we all right?”
I smiled. “Good question. Can we fly?” I asked Heathcliff.
“Yes, Sir.”
“We have comms with Musashi?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Put me through.” Richard nodded and I said, “Seagull Victor to Nest, this is Mason. I need two sensor ships my location an hour ago. Hipe!”
“Eala!” Gawain said as two more Seagulls suddenly appeared, with the supposed Gap between us, and he narrowed his eyes at me. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t,” I admitted, “but a good commander tries to plan for every contingency. Gert?”
“Sir?”
“Best speed to the capital.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The Prince and I went back to the passenger compartment, where I briefed the Marshal while Prince Gawain looked after his wife.
The King slept through it all.
***
Winterbough:
Of all the stupid . . .
Well, Elves Don’t Lie, Cannizorro and Lupo were stupid. Not being a theologian, I can only surmise that the Lady had saddled Brother Cellini with these two tail-dragging idiots as a penance of sorts. Trixie Ashearth’s reason for being here in Elfhame, I thought as I warmed to the subject , might have been an effort on Her part to steer the wolfess into safer waters.
Well, in that regard, She had succeeded admirably.
I walked back to the Lodge and noted [Little Toy] sweeping the front step. The minkess automaton has no facial expressions, but the look she gave me was accusatory as she pointed down the hall.
Naturally (and to avoid getting hit with the broom), I wiped my hooves very carefully before I peered into the hall, where the ice-wyrm egg was sitting in its glass-fronted case.
The case was empty.
I turned to face [Little Toy], indicated with my paws someone rather taller than me, someone rather shorter than me, and then gurned a face to imply that they were both stupid.
[Note appended to manuscript: “No effort on your part, then.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap.”]
[Little Toy] nodded, and I smiled at her and stepped outside, headed for Greytor-Village on the assumption that the two felons would be headed for the Temple, or at least the Manse.
Sure enough, I spotted them. The fox and the wolf were doing their best to appear completely innocuous, an effort rendered largely moot by the fact that Cannizorro was looking rather ridiculously and unnaturally pregnant, judging from the bulge under his acolyte’s robes.
“Hey!” I called out.
They started walking a little faster.
“HEY!”
A little faster.
“STOP! THIEF!”
Heads turned.
Lupo and Cannizorro broke into a run.
And the chase was on.
They had a head start, but roebuck speed you know. However, I measured my pace, not wanting these two idiots to drop and perhaps break the egg. As it was, we set a good pace, thundering down the road and describing two laps around the Temple before the racket drew Brother Cellini’s attention.
“What’s goin’ on?” the turtled demanded, poking his head out the door of the Manse. He saw me chasing his acolytes as they started passing the egg back and forth between them like it was some sort of ball, and he joined the chase as we left the road and started running across the countryside headed for the frog pond.
Attracted by the oncoming ruckus, the frogs emerged from the pond and arrayed themselves in rows, one row higher than the one in front depending on the vegetation. They [RAE-BEET]ed enthusiastically, waving their little front legs in the air as we ran past them, skirted the pond, and started up the hill leading toward the [Star-Mirror].
Running past a stand of tall grass, I glimpsed from the corner of my eye three heads popping up. Tali, Missy and Ooo-er watched us run past, looked at each other, shrugged, and went back to whatever it was they were doing.
I didn’t wish to know that.
[Note appended to manuscript: “Spoilsport.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Never mind him, Tali.”]
There were a few of the ex-Prisoners and a few roebucks tagging along with us. I’m not sure they understood what was going on, but the chase itself was enough to attract attention and invite participation.
The group chasing Cannizorro and Lupo lost one as Brother Cellini put on a very creditable spurt and drew up even with his two acolytes. He took an almighty roundhouse swing at Lupo, who flinched aside at the last moment. The turtle’s swing imparted enough momentum to cause him to lose his balance, and he went flying into the slick grass on the side of the hill.
I’m told that he went sliding on his plastron (that’s the chest area for turtles) straight down the hill before encountering a slope and going airborne. He’d only succeeded in pulling in his legs and feet, leaving his head and arms poking out of his shell as he flew a fair distance and landed in a pond near where my children were having a picnic.
I was told later, from a slightly waterlogged Dotto, that Brother Cellini “rezembled ze friend uff all tchildren!” whatever that was.
Anyway, things had to end, and end it did, with Lupo (who was carrying the egg) tripped. He did a beautiful muzzle-plant in the muddy ground, and the egg went flying.
It went up –
I tried to speed up to catch it –
Cannizorro covered his eyes –
And the egg landed, gently, in a huge scaly paw.
I pulled to a stop before I ran into Windimere’s belly. Apparently the wyvern had been awakened by the approaching ruckus just in time to save the day by a magnificent display of soft-paw fielding. If they ever start a Draconic Post-Ball League, I’d say she’d do beautifully on the Alpha-post.
{“Uryyb, Jrfgrefybr. Jung'f nyy guvf, gura?”} she asked, before recognizing what it was she held in her paw.
She turned to look at Lupo and Cannizorro, who had gotten to their feet and were staring up at her.
One huge eyebrow rose.
Slowly.
Lupo pointed. “Elves Don’t Lie! It was HIS idea!”
Cannizorro clasped his paws and looked up beseechingly. “I’m a BAAAAD boy . . . “
Windimere gave me the ice-wyrm egg, and gestured for me to step aside. I complied, and she turned back to the two acolytes.
She raised a single finger, and wagged it from side to side before leaning down.
The wyvern snorted, the gust blowing all the clothes off the wolf and fox, and liberally coating them with dragon-snot.
She then made a little circle and the two now-weeping furs about-faced. Two very gentle pokes with a claw, and they bent over.
Windimere then brought both of her paws down behind them. Two brief claw-flicks, and the two would-be egg-thieves went flying. I was told later that they’d landed in the frog-pond.
Windimere and I exchanged nuzzles, and the party was over. The roebucks and the ex-Prisoners, the latter looking a little disappointed that I wasn’t going to give them a demonstration of draconic venery, went about their business. I took the egg back to the Lodge.
After making very sure that the egg had taken no harm during its adventure, I placed it back in its case in the hall. This time I placed an alarm-ward on the lid, and to help preserve the egg I cast a freezing-spell on it.
I was still pretty steamed at the acolytes’ temerity, so maybe I did linger over casting the spell, making the area around the case rimed with frost before I stopped.
As I walked away, I thought I saw a brief, soft blue glow coming from the egg.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
© 2022 by Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
tegerio, color by 
Major Matt MasonPart Thirty-eight
Matt:
One of my ears flicked, and I started paying attention.
“Seagull Victor, Nest, radar contact,” I heard Heathcliff say. “You seeing this?”
“Seagull Victor, we see it. What do you make of it?”
“Dunno. No visual – “
And then, to put it simply, the metabolic residue hit the air-circulator.
WHACK!
The ship suddenly spun, flat, to the left, before going into a half-roll to the right and finally coming to rest, rocking back and forth. Princess Persephone screamed, and her husband blurted, “What the Netherhells?” as restraints suddenly snapped into place around all four of the passengers. I agreed with Gawain’s sentiments, but I was busy.
What?
Oh, all right, fine. I faw down, go Boom, okay?
To my credit, I was back on my feet and looking out the window mighty damned quickly. The feeling under my feet told me that the flight crew had the craft under artigrav, but what caused the feeling in my gut was the sight of the left wingtip.
It wasn’t there, apart from a few shreds of composite.
I turned toward the guests. “Are all of you all right?” Three sets of eyes, one furious, one concerned, and one terrified, looked back at me. The King was asleep, lucky skunk. Yes, I mean that literally.
“What happened, Colonel?” Marshal Roland asked.
“One moment, please.” I poked my head into the flight control cabin. “Status?”
“On artigrav, two hundred meters altitude,” Gertrude said promptly. “Ship’s flyable.”
“Okay. Hundred thousand credit question: What the ____ did we hit?”
Heathcliff pointed out the window. “You’re looking at it.”
“I don’t see anything.”
Richard tapped the radar screen, and I looked down. Whatever was out there, it was sending out a solid return. “Do we have a flare launcher?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Aim at the center of the radar return. Wait one.” I went back, where Gawain had unbuckled his restraints. Marshal Roland was somewhat slower off the mark, but getting there. “Your Highness,” I said to the Crown Prince, “you need to see this,” and I beckoned to him to join me on the flight deck.
“What am I looking at?” he asked peevishly, gazing out the front window.
“Well, it’s there,” and I pointed at the radar return, “but it’s not there,” and I pointed out at the sky in front of us. To Gertrude I said, “Fire the flare.”
The flare shot out, flew a short distance, nice and bright – and bounced.
I glanced at Gawain, who was staring openmouthed. “A Gap?”
“Yes, Your Highness, seems like it. Looks like we hit it as one was forming.”
“Are we all right?”
I smiled. “Good question. Can we fly?” I asked Heathcliff.
“Yes, Sir.”
“We have comms with Musashi?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Put me through.” Richard nodded and I said, “Seagull Victor to Nest, this is Mason. I need two sensor ships my location an hour ago. Hipe!”
“Eala!” Gawain said as two more Seagulls suddenly appeared, with the supposed Gap between us, and he narrowed his eyes at me. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t,” I admitted, “but a good commander tries to plan for every contingency. Gert?”
“Sir?”
“Best speed to the capital.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The Prince and I went back to the passenger compartment, where I briefed the Marshal while Prince Gawain looked after his wife.
The King slept through it all.
***
Winterbough:
Of all the stupid . . .
Well, Elves Don’t Lie, Cannizorro and Lupo were stupid. Not being a theologian, I can only surmise that the Lady had saddled Brother Cellini with these two tail-dragging idiots as a penance of sorts. Trixie Ashearth’s reason for being here in Elfhame, I thought as I warmed to the subject , might have been an effort on Her part to steer the wolfess into safer waters.
Well, in that regard, She had succeeded admirably.
I walked back to the Lodge and noted [Little Toy] sweeping the front step. The minkess automaton has no facial expressions, but the look she gave me was accusatory as she pointed down the hall.
Naturally (and to avoid getting hit with the broom), I wiped my hooves very carefully before I peered into the hall, where the ice-wyrm egg was sitting in its glass-fronted case.
The case was empty.
I turned to face [Little Toy], indicated with my paws someone rather taller than me, someone rather shorter than me, and then gurned a face to imply that they were both stupid.
[Note appended to manuscript: “No effort on your part, then.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap.”]
[Little Toy] nodded, and I smiled at her and stepped outside, headed for Greytor-Village on the assumption that the two felons would be headed for the Temple, or at least the Manse.
Sure enough, I spotted them. The fox and the wolf were doing their best to appear completely innocuous, an effort rendered largely moot by the fact that Cannizorro was looking rather ridiculously and unnaturally pregnant, judging from the bulge under his acolyte’s robes.
“Hey!” I called out.
They started walking a little faster.
“HEY!”
A little faster.
“STOP! THIEF!”
Heads turned.
Lupo and Cannizorro broke into a run.
And the chase was on.
They had a head start, but roebuck speed you know. However, I measured my pace, not wanting these two idiots to drop and perhaps break the egg. As it was, we set a good pace, thundering down the road and describing two laps around the Temple before the racket drew Brother Cellini’s attention.
“What’s goin’ on?” the turtled demanded, poking his head out the door of the Manse. He saw me chasing his acolytes as they started passing the egg back and forth between them like it was some sort of ball, and he joined the chase as we left the road and started running across the countryside headed for the frog pond.
Attracted by the oncoming ruckus, the frogs emerged from the pond and arrayed themselves in rows, one row higher than the one in front depending on the vegetation. They [RAE-BEET]ed enthusiastically, waving their little front legs in the air as we ran past them, skirted the pond, and started up the hill leading toward the [Star-Mirror].
Running past a stand of tall grass, I glimpsed from the corner of my eye three heads popping up. Tali, Missy and Ooo-er watched us run past, looked at each other, shrugged, and went back to whatever it was they were doing.
I didn’t wish to know that.
[Note appended to manuscript: “Spoilsport.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Never mind him, Tali.”]
There were a few of the ex-Prisoners and a few roebucks tagging along with us. I’m not sure they understood what was going on, but the chase itself was enough to attract attention and invite participation.
The group chasing Cannizorro and Lupo lost one as Brother Cellini put on a very creditable spurt and drew up even with his two acolytes. He took an almighty roundhouse swing at Lupo, who flinched aside at the last moment. The turtle’s swing imparted enough momentum to cause him to lose his balance, and he went flying into the slick grass on the side of the hill.
I’m told that he went sliding on his plastron (that’s the chest area for turtles) straight down the hill before encountering a slope and going airborne. He’d only succeeded in pulling in his legs and feet, leaving his head and arms poking out of his shell as he flew a fair distance and landed in a pond near where my children were having a picnic.
I was told later, from a slightly waterlogged Dotto, that Brother Cellini “rezembled ze friend uff all tchildren!” whatever that was.
Anyway, things had to end, and end it did, with Lupo (who was carrying the egg) tripped. He did a beautiful muzzle-plant in the muddy ground, and the egg went flying.
It went up –
I tried to speed up to catch it –
Cannizorro covered his eyes –
And the egg landed, gently, in a huge scaly paw.
I pulled to a stop before I ran into Windimere’s belly. Apparently the wyvern had been awakened by the approaching ruckus just in time to save the day by a magnificent display of soft-paw fielding. If they ever start a Draconic Post-Ball League, I’d say she’d do beautifully on the Alpha-post.
{“Uryyb, Jrfgrefybr. Jung'f nyy guvf, gura?”} she asked, before recognizing what it was she held in her paw.
She turned to look at Lupo and Cannizorro, who had gotten to their feet and were staring up at her.
One huge eyebrow rose.
Slowly.
Lupo pointed. “Elves Don’t Lie! It was HIS idea!”
Cannizorro clasped his paws and looked up beseechingly. “I’m a BAAAAD boy . . . “
Windimere gave me the ice-wyrm egg, and gestured for me to step aside. I complied, and she turned back to the two acolytes.
She raised a single finger, and wagged it from side to side before leaning down.
The wyvern snorted, the gust blowing all the clothes off the wolf and fox, and liberally coating them with dragon-snot.
She then made a little circle and the two now-weeping furs about-faced. Two very gentle pokes with a claw, and they bent over.
Windimere then brought both of her paws down behind them. Two brief claw-flicks, and the two would-be egg-thieves went flying. I was told later that they’d landed in the frog-pond.
Windimere and I exchanged nuzzles, and the party was over. The roebucks and the ex-Prisoners, the latter looking a little disappointed that I wasn’t going to give them a demonstration of draconic venery, went about their business. I took the egg back to the Lodge.
After making very sure that the egg had taken no harm during its adventure, I placed it back in its case in the hall. This time I placed an alarm-ward on the lid, and to help preserve the egg I cast a freezing-spell on it.
I was still pretty steamed at the acolytes’ temerity, so maybe I did linger over casting the spell, making the area around the case rimed with frost before I stopped.
As I walked away, I thought I saw a brief, soft blue glow coming from the egg.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Brown Bear
Size 1705 x 1280px
File Size 1.23 MB
Listed in Folders
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