The mud is deep this time of year, cold from the ice melt and thick as paste it tugs us back at every footstep. The king had wanted a omen, and apparently for once the mountain was happy to provide.

Whatever cheer the party had started with was long gone by the time they reached the sun rest. Only the king’s driving desire to see his questions answered by something more than mere mortals keep them climbing. Not that they hadn’t briefly debated the merits of letting him climb his own damn mountains without them, but the honor guard was the honor guard, little things like mud and weather weren’t supposed to slow them down.

There was the traditional petition of the mountain, followed by the traditional offering, followed by the traditional long ass wait as forces beyond their ken pondered the question. Or were just lazy. Right now the soggy, cold, and thoroughly bored honor guard was betting on lazy. It wasn’t completely unexpected for the mountain to take days deciding on a response, so they had already begun setting up camp at the base of the monument when the king came barreling down from the sun rest.

Apparently the mountain wasn’t too keen on the idea of railroad tunnels.

These snippits are copyright Martha McMahon Bechtel and may not be reproduced or distributed without express permission. All rights reserved.

Technotari Tags: Fiction, Fantasy

I hate stories with a twist. I especially hate stories where you can see the twist coming three words in, and this looked like it was going to be one of those stories.

“But he’s cute!” Sandy was right, the puppy was cute, but normal dogs don’t have magical auras that spark and fizzle in chaotic rainbows. I flattened my ears and rowled my opinion of of the demonic fluffball.

“Words!” She chided.

“I think this is a very bad idea.” I glared at the puppy who looked up at me with misplaced adoration. “There’s something wrong with it.”

“Wrong how?” To her credit, she did ratchet up her shields, if only a smidgen. Thankfully the pup seemed oblivious to the changes.

“It tastes of young magic,” the wild unpredictable sort that had popped up since the war. “I don’t think we found it.”

“You think it found us.” Sandy was the youngest of the company, both in terms of years in service and years alive, but she learned significantly faster than most of the older recruits. Still, she hadn’t actually put the puppy down yet. “So,” there was a pause, “so if it found us doesn’t that mean if I put it down it will just find us again?”

I hate these sorts of stories.

These snippits are copyright Martha McMahon Bechtel and may not be reproduced or distributed without express permission. All rights reserved.

Technotari Tags: Fiction, Fantasy

“Life is pain!”

“Good morning to you to.” Yoni rolled her eyes as Wilson died dramatically in the corner, apparently succumbing to the mind numbing horror of facing another day in the simulators. It would have been slightly more impressive if he wasn’t wearing what she could only assume was his best attempt at a red shirt costume from Star Trek. The clothing production capacities on the alien ship were impressive, but still required detailed descriptions for manufacture. This had left them with only basic clothing options, although those were rapidly expanding as the designers on board released new lines.

The rest of her team weren’t any more thrilled at the prospect of yet another day spent in virtual training, but at least they tended away from dramatics. Keller was decked out in his traditional ‘annoyance’ colors of line green and hot pink, while Anderson had opted for the more traditional pajama pants and bathrobe of indifference. Yoni was the only one who had bothered to wear anything vaguely mission appropriate, and she had only gone as far as jeans and a t-shirt.

Of course it didn’t matter what they wore, since the simulators would deck them out in the appropriate gear, but the remnants of Earth took a perverse joy in bucking the system as much as possible. Or they were just lazy, colorblind, and teenagers… Yoni wasn’t quite sure which.

These snippits are copyright Martha McMahon Bechtel and may not be reproduced or distributed without express permission. All rights reserved.

Technotari Tags: Fiction, Science Fiction

“If you stop to think about it, we’re never going to get this done.”

Lorcan gave Neda a measured look, “And that’s a bad thing?” But he kept coiling the rope, counting out the knots in his head. “There might be another way.”

“We don’t have time,” Neda had gotten to fifty before him and was already lashing the rope to her pack. “If Bethany and the others think of something, they’ll take care of it. But for now,” she tugged on the straps to test the hold, “we’re the only chance they have of escaping the stormfront.”

“But we’ll be dead.”

Neda stopped, turning to give him her full attention. Lorcan didn’t look up from his counting, but he tensed in anticipation of the blow, eyes carefully averted. He hadn’t meant to say it, but the closer they got to the eye of the storm the looser his hold became.

There was a long silence and Lorcan cursed his lack of control. Neda wasn’t as bad as her father or her father’s father, but the Vocina temper bred true; thirty generations of dilution had done little to calm that fury. When she finally spoke, he braced himself against the expected pain.

“I rescind your oath.” Formal words, spoken in a language he’s assumed long dead, and he stumbled backwards in shock, feeling the collar crack. “I unbind your service.” The magic rose around them, cutting storm winds into a whirling vortex. “I release you, do as you will.”

And with that, six hundred years of servitude ended.

These snippits are copyright Martha McMahon Bechtel and may not be reproduced or distributed without express permission. All rights reserved.

Technotari Tags: Fiction, Fantasy

“So I’m some sort of mystical savior meant to prevent the world from certain doom.”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t tell my husband.”

“Right.”

“Because you’ll have to kill him.”

“Pretty much.”

“And you think I won’t stop you.”

“Well no, I think you’ll try–”

“Right.”

“–I just don’t think you’ll succeed. After all, there are hundreds of us and one of you.”

“I’ll kill all of you if you touch him–”

“But you’ll still save the world.”

“What?”

“Even if you kill all of us, because we’ve killed him, when the time comes you’ll still save the world.”

“No I won’t.”

“Really? You’d kill billions of innocent people because we did something we told you we would do?”

“You can’t kill my husband!”

“I’m hoping we don’t have to.”

“Well what if I tell everyone? You can’t kill everyone.”

“What?”

“If I go on TV, on the news and I tell everyone about this whole dammed mess–”

“Then saving the world stops being an option.”

“Why?”

“Look, let’s start with this. You agree not to tell anyone anything until we have a chance to explain it to you first. This is not a simple five minute explanation; we’re talking twenty hours of lectures, five hours of labs–”

“Labs?”

“Well I don’t expect you to believe it without proof.”

“Good point.”

“So do we have a deal?”

“Considering my apparent options are death, more death, or the end of the world: Yes.”

These snippits are copyright Martha McMahon Bechtel and may not be reproduced or distributed without express permission. All rights reserved.

Technotari Tags: Fiction, Fantasy