1 comments/  9370 views/  0 favorites

Echoes

By: Encircled



My mind wouldn't rest after the first time I watched you perform for me on cam and after I slipped between the sheets into my bed, the cool cotton was brushing against my fully naked body setting every inch glowing and tingling. The feeling was both exhilarating and electrifying, I felt energised not sleepy.

Still damp from your show, I could hear echoes of your orgasm resonating in my mind and flashbacks ignited my aching anew – setting off a contraction inside me and sending a gush of hot fluid flowing down my inner thighs....

My hands swept the sheets feeling the silky cool fabric brush against me and my hand came across my toy that was tucked under the corner of the thick duvet.

I couldn't resist...

My eyes closed and I relived the moments of you peaking over and over whilst my fingers fumbled with the end of the toy twisting it on till I could hear the insistent buzzing and feel the rapid vibration in my hand... 

Your hips arched upwards, your hand stroking the head of your cock rapidly as spurts of thick creamy cum shoot through the gaps between your fingers, splashes hitting your naked chest offset by your drawn out climaxing cry.

I imagined that you were in the bed with me, crawling up from the end of the bed through the duvet dressed in your shirt and your makeshift collar around your neck. Skimming the surface of my skin with your mouth on your way up from my calves, breathing in my scent before moving up to part my thighs, 

I set the toy against the outer edges, lips that were still slightly swollen from desire - careful, in case I sent myself over the edge too quickly. I shivered against the touch of the cold, hard latex imagining it was your cool fingers and then as the latex heated up - imagining it was your tongue, toying with the hot and sticky wetness. 

Moving the buzzing till it was at the opening, at my inner lips - I visualised it was you teasing me, dipping your tongue in and out, further and further till I had enveloped about 2 inches of the rigid hardness inside me.

All the while, I imagined that I could feel your hair in between my fingers, my fingers gently gripping a handful pulling your face against me and then loosening my grip - letting soft, downy locks fall through my fingers.

The buzzing was intense and my ache was building up from the tantalising urgency and I was struggling to fight against the mounting sensations. 

I could see you in my minds' eye - I was pulling you up over me to face me, pulling you up by the string tied to your rigid shaft and I could hear you moaning deeply as I sucked and bit at your exposed, vulnerable throat... 

I slipped the toy in fully imagining it was you filling me whilst I tugged on the string every time a wave of pleasure flooded over me. My free hand slipped down and the forefinger sought my swollen clit, swirling in circles, endlessly teasing and denying myself... 

I sank the toy in fully and withdrew repeatedly and was moaning with satisfaction at the feeling of completeness - envisioning it was you doing this to me. 

You were still fully clothed wearing casual smart shirt, still wearing your suit pants in fact, with only just the zipper undone so that I could get at what I wanted, what was mine. The heat emanating from you was phenomenal, so hot like you were ablaze and wrapping me into the incandescence, burning up for me, murmuring my name like it was a devotion and interspersing it with telling me how good it felt, how scalding hot it was inside me ...

Finally my desperation was too much and I pushed myself over the edge - whispering your name fervently in my muffled cries, I climaxed so very, very hard. 

I could feel every spasm pulse against the rigid hardness of the latex, gripping the sides as though I was contracting against your shaft, gripping and pumping you. I could feel the wet fluid flow and wind its way down my inner thighs.... the waves were intense and drawn out... 

My hips arched up as though I was pushing myself against you, trying to meet as much of you as possible, so you were in as deep as possible.

Finally, my waves subsided, climbing down and ebbing away in intensity and the muscles in my body began to relax, still reacting a little to the echoes of the climax, my limbs brushing against the sheets languorously in slow sweeping motions.

Echoes



Idle time + bottle of beer + something stronger than beer + Pink Floyd in background + flash of inspiration = this really short story

Comments and feedback are most welcome. It's kind of an abstract monologue, so not much will be spoken. I hope I get it right.

Hat-tip to Reader's Digest and my editor NaokoSmith.

* *

It was a cold, blustery day when Victoria Jones finally breathed her last. She was strong, stronger than all of us. But even the strongest are no match for a speeding SUV. She fought gamely for as long as her body would allow. Then one day, the doctor called me to her bedside and told me there was no hope. There was a recently enacted piece of legislation I could use to put her out of her brain-dead suffering. It was like a cry of help from the still body lying comatose on the bed.

She was asking me to let go.

Letting go is always the hardest thing to do, but when Vicky asked me to let go, it wasn't really a choice. I could never refuse her.

So I let go. I have not been the same person since.

My therapist tells me that writing about it will help. So here it is -- my little attempt at telling you about my elder sister, Vicky.

"I love you, Vicky Jones."

Have you ever felt so close to someone that you became a part of them and they became a part of you? Have you loved someone so much that every bit of you would yearn to touch her? Have you ever wanted someone to lay by your side so bad that it hurt you to see someone else there?

I have felt all those feelings. As far back as I can remember, I was deeply and profoundly in love. I was in love with my sister, Vicky. She was a full decade elder to me. Our father was mostly out of the picture and our mother was hardly around. That left Vicky and me to ourselves.

Vicky was my mother, father and elder sister in one. She bathed me, fed me, changed my diapers and even read bedtime stories to me. She came to console me every night when thunder woke me up. She saved up money babysitting and doing odd chores and always spent it buying something for me. Vicky never bought something for herself.

Vicky had the body of a woman and the face of an angel from as far back as I recall. She seemed to grow overnight into a stunning beauty. It didn't make any difference to me. I was in love with her from way before that.

My therapist tells me I am still in the Oedipal stage of my psychological growth. It means that I love my mother-figure or care giver. It means I still love Vicky.

I don't know why I pay this guy so much. I could have told you that myself. Here, let me say it again.

"I love you, Vicky Jones."

My father eventually ran away with the local barmaid. It wasn't too much of a loss. My mother got over her loss by getting under her factory worker boyfriend. He was a rough, burly man who perpetually reeked of booze. The walls in our squalid little place were not nearly thick enough to block the sounds of him and my mother going at it.

Trust me when I say, the sounds were much less pleasant than you think they were.

This man, his name was Gordon, was not a very nice person to know. He was prone to violent outbursts. Every night he would come back, too drunk to walk in a straight line. Vicky and I stayed out of his way for the most part.

One night, he barged straight into the little room where Vicky and I stayed. The crash of the door opening woke her up. Today had been a particularly rough day as Gordon had finally fallen too far out of favour with his foreman, who took great pleasure in firing him. The public humiliation made him push up his bar tab considerably and he came back in a foul mood, ready to burst on the first available target.

Fortunately, his six year old step-son seemed to be on hand to scratch that particular itch. Or so he thought. He staggered towards my cowering form, his bloodshot red eyes boring into me.

He had barely taken three steps in my direction before Vicky stood in the way, her arms spread out defiantly. He was going to have to go through her to get to her baby brother. He blinked and looked at her with the same bloodshot glare. It failed to faze her one bit.

Vicky was not much bigger than me. In front of him, she was a tiny little ragdoll he could fling in any direction. Yet, there was a conviction in her stance. Gordon ran his eyes up and down her slender frame for a long while, drunkenly sizing her up. After a short while, inexplicably, he turned around and walked away.

I didn't quite know why he did that, but every bit of me wanted to thank Vicky. She was my protector. All I wanted to say was.

"I love you, Vicky Jones."

Vicky was a woman of amazing foresight. Even at the tender age of sixteen, she realized that our days in that hell-hole were numbered. There was a distinct chance Mom would kick us out soon enough based on what her paramour said to her regarding that night's events. Even otherwise, the look he gave Vicky was probably a precursor to something much worse.

I could never have discerned all that from a look, but she could.

So we ran away the next evening. Rather, she threw whatever she could get her hands on into a little suitcase, grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to the bus stop. We boarded the first bus to somewhere. The destination was of secondary importance.

Once aboard, she surprised me again by fishing out a roll of bills from inside her jacket. Our mother and Gordon were hardly the brightest sparks when it came to saving up, but they did maintain a little drug fund to support their habit. Every week, they would buy a few varieties from a small time dealer down the alley and pay him off before the next batch.

I can't imagine him having been thrilled at the late payment.

Vicky knew where the hidden cash would be and managed to take it with her. It was not much, but it was a start. I remember putting my head on her lap as she stroked my neck and told me my favourite lullaby as the bus made its way somewhere.

I fell asleep and dreamt of her for the first time. There was nothing remotely sexual in that dream. It was just us, in a grassy meadow with the clear blue sky above us. She held me in her arms and cuddled me. It was calm, peaceful and serene.

I looked into her eyes and said it once.

"I love you, Vicky Jones."

Whether it was in my dream or not, I can't remember. But I said it and that's all that matters.

* *

New York was an important chapter in our lives. Mr Singh and his wife ran an orphanage off 42nd street. God bless their souls. They were more than happy to take us in when we showed up, shivering from the rain. We had a small corner to ourselves in their shelter. It was more of a home than home had ever been.

It was there that we finally had a semblance of a life. She took night classes and I went to school. I also found my second love in life, music. Don't worry, it never even came close to my first love.

Music was a release for me. When I had a tune in my head, I could forget about the rest of my life. I switched off in class, lost in a whirl of treble clefs and octaves. Everything was music. The sounds of the city, chatter and life. The birds and animals in Central Park. The sounds of cars and trains. It all became part of my "music".

Vicky saw this. Of course, she did. She was tremendously perceptive, much more so when it came to me. One day, when I came back from class, she told me that I could attend night classes at the local open school. How she managed to stitch together the money for it, I could not even begin to fathom. It was a closely guarded secret between her and Mrs Singh.

I hugged her way too tightly when I heard the news. I stood on my bed and clasped my arms around her. In the twelve years of my life till that point, I had never loved anyone else except for my angel and my love for her seemed to be dwarfed by her love for me.

I made sure to lean over and whisper her favourite five words into her ear.

"I love you, Vicky Jones."

School became eminently secondary to my music. I learnt faster than anyone in my class. My teachers were in awe and let me skip a few musical grades to hasten my progress. The notes became a part of me and I began composing some of my own songs by the time I graduated school at eighteen.

By then, she had a semi-stable job as a secretary. I finally left the Singhs' warm embrace and moved into a little flat with her. It was a small, two room establishment in Brooklyn, but it was more than enough for us.

It was also the time when we searched for love outside of the two of us. Till date, I never know why we looked, but we did. I tried dating a girl from my music class and she dove into the late-twenties dating scene. Neither ended well.

My girlfriend said I was always too distracted. My mind was always elsewhere, never at the table with her during our date. She was dead-on. I could not think of anyone I would rather have on the other side of the table than Vicky. Every ounce of my self restraint went into not screaming to the world.

"I love you, Vicky Jones."

Vicky tried again and along came Chad. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy. The relationship seemed to be going well. They went on several dates, each seemingly better than the last. He even had the courtesy to extend his friendship to me. I initially took a liking to him.

He was a young academic with a fresh take on most world issues. His views were as radical as they were captivating. Vicky was smitten by his personality, charm and razor-sharp wit.

The dates became more frequent. Some of them led to overnight stays. This was also the time I developed a strangely irrational hatred towards him. I had no right to be possessive about my sister, but I was. It made absolutely no sense, but then again, love rarely does make sense.

Those nights, when she would go away, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned and twisted restlessly in my bed in the hope of somnolence, but my eyes refused to stay shut. Try as I might, I couldn't sleep a wink.

How could I? My angel was not there to stroke my neck and sing me to sleep.

Yes, I was twenty. No, I was not ashamed.

I longed to hold her while I went to sleep and softly remove the hair over her ear so I could lean over and whisper gently.

"I love you, Vicky Jones."

The hatred festered and grew inside me like an alien being. I knew there was no plausible reason for it. I couldn't help this feeling of animosity so strong that I could barely control it. Every time I saw them together, this being reared its ugly head.

They looked so happy and contented together. A voice in some remote recess of my brain told me that my angel was going away. I needed to have her back. By any means necessary.

I had some money from composing hideously tacky jingles for suitably tacky brands. I searched the yellow pages for a PI and found one to my liking. He seemed experienced and discreet. I tasked him with following Chad around. I needed the remotest shred of evidence against him and that would be enough. Just a tiny bit and I could blackmail him into leaving my angel to me and me alone.

A part of me felt horrible for doing this, but a larger part goaded me on. I was ruining a good relationship, but I couldn't go on like that. There would be tears and heartache, mine much more than hers, but in the end she would be back where she belonged, in my embrace.

As it turned out, Chad had a big secret to hide. A secret so big, it took my PI all of one day to find it.

For starters, his name wasn't even Chad. It was Hayden. Hayden Adair. There was also a Mrs Adair. I had detailed documents of marriage registrations, property deeds and also photographs of the happy couple at various cafés.

Suddenly, I didn't feel quite so bad ruining this relationship. I waited until Vicky got home late that night before I showed her what I had gathered. Her eyes grew wide and her face became pale. A few tears crept past her defences, but her grief went beyond tears.

Finally, her dam shattered. She wailed and sobbed hysterically. I tried consoling her, but she would not be consoled. I held her in my arms, but she shook me off violently and kept crying. My heart broke into innumerable pieces seeing her cry. My conscience blamed me for making her cry. She continued all through the night, resisting any efforts at consoling her.

The next morning, she left with a resolute purpose in her stride and a bunch of documents in her hands. An ugly confrontation loomed and I could not be there by her side, as much as I wanted to. I spent the entire day feeling wretched. I knew I did the right thing by saving her from a worse shock later, but that did not change the fact that I made her cry.

I stayed in bed, unable to move. I could not think of any tunes or any notes. My music left in a flood of her tears. I cried too, unable to decide whether I did a good thing or not. I made my angel cry. No sight is as heartbreaking as that.

I tried to distract my mind by writing a song, but failed. The lyrics and tunes simply would not coalesce. My room was littered with crumpled pieces of paper by the time I gave up. Then I crawled back into bed. All I wanted to do was to hold Vicky's face in my hands one more time and tell her the words you are probably sick of reading by now.

"I love you, Vicky Jones."

Warmth and wetness. These feelings registered dimly in my mind. I moved my sleepy head, but the feelings followed me. I woke up, groping in the dark. My hands touched soft, satin skin. My fingers traced out soft cheeks wet with uncountable tears and culminated in the wet lips which caused me to stir.

I blinked and turned my head. The dim moonlight came in through the window and cast half a shadow across my angel's face. A damn tear had made its way half-way down her cheek. I reached out and wiped it away without even thinking.

She gave me a silly, lop-sided smile. In her hand was an empty bottle of cheap vodka. She put the bottle down and brought her face closer to me. Her blue eyes were very close to mine now, her iridescent irises glowing curiously in the slanted moonlight. Her sumptuous lips moved even closer and then parted. My heart forgot to beat and time stood perfectly still as my angel spoke.

"I love you too."

Before my heart could dare to beat again, her lips planted themselves on mine. Her tongue thrust out and plunged into my mouth playing with mine. I wrapped my arm around her head and returned the kiss with an equal passion. My mind was barely aware of what I was doing, but my body seemed to know exactly what to do.

Love is a primal urge which needs no guidance, just freedom.

I kissed her hungrily. Our lips finally parted and I dove down to her breasts. Her succulent nipples felt decadent on my tongue. I wrapped my lips around one and gently flicked it with my tongue, letting the taste sink in. She groaned and pushed my face into her breast.

I kept sucking and licking, switching to the other nipple. She squirmed with pleasure and pulled me on top of her. I greedily moved my lips over her torso, willing myself to devour her whole. I kissed every part of her smooth skin I came across until I reached her pants. She reached down and pulled them off and I saw her flawless pink nether lips. They were lush and spread outwards like a rose in full bloom.

Unable to contain myself, I dove into it. She screamed with pleasure and clamped my head in place. I licked her nectar with an intensity I did not know myself to be capable of. I slurped and licked for an eternity.

There was a frantic urgency, a desperate intensity in our motions. We were like two caged animals, suddenly let loose. I clambered on her and positioned the head of my erection against her orifice. She grabbed my hips and thrust upwards, embedding my entirety into her in one fluid stroke.

My hips reciprocated by plunging downwards, pulverizing her into the mattress. Her arms wrapped around my back and she dug her nails into the skin. Her legs went around my waist and she began lifting her body off the bed with each thrust of mine. I flipped her over. Now she was on top of me, gyrating her hips in sync with me.

The frequency increased until I couldn't hold back any more. I held her tightly and ejected multiple bursts of cum deep into her. Vicky collapsed on top of me. The feeling of our sweaty skins touching was indescribably erotic. She turned to face me and we kissed again. All the love we ever shared went into this kiss, drowning me in the multitude of emotions.

Somewhere in all those emotions, I remembered the one that mattered the most. I said it again.

"I love you, Vicky Jones."

She smiled again and once more, sang me to sleep. The melody from her stuck in my head as I drifted off.

The next morning, I was a man possessed. The night had sparked my muse into producing such a wondrous symphony that I had to get it down on paper before it left me. I drew the notes and then found the lyrics to match. Everything just flowed. It sounded beautiful in my head.

Beautiful, just like my angel who had inspired it.

My agent passed it on to some people and they loved it. The phone did not stop ringing that day as a major label wanted to sign me on. I was going to be part of an emerging singer play list and from there -- the sky was the limit. All that I had endured in my life was finally paying off. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

We celebrated it privately. I was initially afraid that she would regret what she did that night with all that vodka in her system, but she didn't. As I always knew, love had no boundaries or types. It was a bond that could bring any two people together, even us.

Vicky and I made love once before we broke open the bubbly. It finished way too soon for us. We made our way down and headed towards the store a few blocks away. I guess we were both a little tipsy, given how we leaned on each other and laughed at nothing. I staggered and stopped in the middle of the road to get my bearings straight when I saw the lights.

Two glowing headlights thundered towards me. My legs turned to jelly, but I remained rooted to the spot in anticipation of my doom. My arms went across my face, bracing for impact. I closed my eyes and, in that moment, wished that I could tell her how much I loved her one more time.

I felt a push, but from the wrong direction. Even as I fell away, I opened my eyes to see Vicky Jones standing where I was a moment ago. That same smile played on her face which was turned in my direction. I couldn't even close my eyes before I heard the sickening splat.

Damn you, Vicky! Who gave you the right to do that? Who gave you the right to decide for the both of us? You think you saved me, but you were wrong. There is no way you can imagine what I felt in that instant and have felt ever since.

I hate you, Vicky Jones. I fucking hate you. You promised me that you would protect me. You promised me that you wouldn't let me cry. You promised me that you wouldn't leave me alone. What happened to all those promises, Vicky? Answer me, Vicky. What happened to all those promises? You lied to me. You lied to your brother. How could you do that?

I hate you, Vicky Jones. I hate you for making me see you die slowly on a hospital bed. I hate you for not being there by my side. I hate you for not being there to sing me to sleep at night. I fucking hate you, Vicky!

I'm sorry for the rant. It's been a while since I took my anti-depressants. Mostly, I can control myself, but there are times when I think of Vicky and I am nothing more than her scared little brother again.

Every time I take one of my pills, the temptation to take the whole bottle is overwhelming. After all, if there is something beyond this life, maybe I will meet Vicky there. But each time I remember that gentle smile on her face even as a car rammed into her side. She went through that pain with a smile so I could live and make more music and I am not going to let that be in vain. So, I will take my regular dose of one pill. Okay, two, because writing this has taken so much out of me.




Echoes



Finally, Vicky and I loved Pink Floyd. There were so many times that we would hear one of their songs and drift off together to sleep. Her favourite was Echoes. Sometimes when I hear it now, I can't control myself anymore and I cry. But then, the song also reminds me what I lost, and that is enough for me. I will hang onto anything that reminds me of Vicky Jones, no matter how much it hurts.

I need to sleep now. I turn on Echoes on my iPod and slowly close my eyes.

"And no-one sings me lullabies. 

And no-one makes me close my eyes.

And so I throw the windows wide.

And call to you across the sky."

Answer me, Vicky. Please answer me.

* *

"Today I am hurt, tomorrow I will heal and day after, I will emerge stronger."



Echoes from a Bitter Past



PLEASE NOTE There is no graphic sex described in this story.

Chapter One

Authors note: 

Denis Compton a renowned cricketer of that time, often known as 'The Brylcreem Boy' because of his dapper appearance and slicked hair.

I lost Mavis a month ago. To tell the truth it wasn't a surprise; she had fought long and hard, never complaining of the pain always talking of the better times to come when she was well again. We both knew that was Pie in the Sky, but neither of us admitted it to the other. When the end came the grieving had already been done, my son and daughter joined me in taking the phlegmatic approach and were grateful that she wouldn't suffer any more. We had been together for forty-three years and she had been a good wife. I suppose that after all that time I had grown to love her. I had always liked her even from our first meeting when we were kids growing up in the same mean street of terraced houses. As we grew older it seemed inevitable that we would be together. My parents and her parents assumed that, but assumptions are usually hopeful wishes and we all know what wishes are. More Pie in the Sky.

My Dad was a railwayman, starting with the G.W.R. in the early nineteen thirties. Getting a job on the railway was considered sensible as with all the unemployment at that time the railway companies offered secure, even if poorly paid employment. My grandfather was a railwayman and favour was shown to applicants who had a relative already in service. Dad had joined in South Wales where I was born but after nationalisation he moved to Saltley which had been a Midland Railway depot. Dad had an unshakeable belief that I would also be a railwayman, so in nineteen fifty-seven at seventeen years of age I was taken down to the Engine Shed and was signed on. It wasn't what I wanted. I had achieved good passes in the G.C.E. and would have liked to go on to Technical College. That dream vanished as the family needed another wage and I had to provide it. My older brother, William had poliomyelitis when young. He was weak, spending most of the time in a wheelchair and needed oxygen often so he would never be a wage earner. My wishes were naught compared to the family needs, so at six the next Monday morning I reported for duty. I became a member of a gang responsible for cleaning the engines on shed. It was filthy work climbing all over and underneath them and at the end of the shift I would walk the short distance home dirty and smelly. Mum, after a lifetime of working around dad's shifts was equal to the task. She had the tin bath full of hot water ready for me in the scullery. This was no time for modesty as she was determined that I would be clean, and as I bathed she would use a scrubbing brush to remove every last grain of dirt and I suspect a few layers of skin. There would be no dirt in her home!

Cleanliness was next to Godliness and mum took that mantra and translated it into fact. You could eat your dinner off the floor in her home if you could ignore the overwhelming odour of bleach. Mum kept the chemical manufacturers in business. Her hands were always chapped red from frequent immersion in the stinging liquid. The house had been built in the eighteen eighties by the Midland Railway Company for its employees. It consisted of one room and a scullery downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs. The toilet, called the privy in those days, was a small brick hut built on to the back of the house. It required great resolve to visit it on cold dark nights. The privy too was fragrant with bleach the linoleum flooring having to be renewed frequently as the bleach would readily dissolve the stuff. Dad kept a short handled Fireman's shovel in the privy and most nights he would use it in his constant battle with rats. William and I would lie in bed and count the thwacks as dad put paid to yet another of the loathsome creatures. His best score ever was four in one night.

Our street was called Midland Terrace, a narrow, cobbled, thoroughfare shoehorned in between the houses and the railway. There were houses to one side only, the other side was a fence built from old sleepers (ties) set on end. In two places the fence had been torn down as railwaymen took a short cut to the engine shed rather than walk the extra yards to clock on. The street was our playground when young and was adapted to the game being played according to season. It was football in winter with our coats becoming the goalposts. I would have preferred Rugby as we were a Welsh family. Although living in England Dad and I would rejoice whenever the Welsh rugby team beat the English, especially if the game was played at Twickenham. Our smiles were hidden from our neighbours after all they were mostly English and we had to live next to them. In summer we played cricket, with an ancient gas streetlight serving as the wicket, and a bit of rudely carved waste wood as a bat. The girls would play hopscotch and there was many an argument as at times a football or cricket player would stray into their chalked grid on the pavement. There were always at least two windows broken every year, when one young budding Denis Compton would connect surprisingly well with the ball, too well as it happened and the crash and tinkling glass was a signal for all the kids to vanish practicing the innocent looks that would be needed later. Punishment and caring was dished up equally by any of our neighbours. It was no good complaining to your dad that Mrs. Wilkins had given you a slap. His reply would be.

"I expect you deserved it."

We were all in the same boat. There was employment on the railway and with that enough money to keep the roof over our heads and food on the table. But there was nothing to spare for luxuries. If a celebration was required, then everyone in the street would rally round and find the wherewithal for it to happen. In nineteen fifty-three there were tables of various shapes and sizes taken out into the street for the celebration of the Queen's Coronation. There was an abundance of food provided by households that could only usually just feed themselves, yet what little they had was put on those tables for everyone to share. We ate, laughed, cheered and danced, for one moment forgetting the hum-drum existence that was our lives. 

Mavis lived just down the street in another of the railway cottages. We went to the same schools, Junior and Senior. Not always in the same class yet often enough so that we would exchange notes and cribs. The gawky, skinny girl I first knew as an eight year old grew up into a slim but shapely young woman. As we moved through our teens we began to go out together socially. We would go to the local cinemas together on weeknights, catching up on the latest Hollywood movies as they came round. Then on Saturday nights we joined the crush at the West End Ballroom. Ballroom dancing was out of fashion then as the hurricane of new music had blown in from America, which our parents regarded as sinful, spelling the breakdown of society's order. Our dancing would be Rock and Roll, to the sounds of Bill Haley and the Comets, Freddy Bell and the Bellboys and Little Richard. We watched the films at the cinema then went to the dance and tried the steps for ourselves. We called it Jive. Always towards the end of the evening they would play slower, romantic stuff from The Platters and Connie Francis giving us the opportunity to dance close. That was the time when much face powder would be transferred from her face to my jacket and lipstick somehow found its way on to my collar. Later walking Mavis home more powder would appear on my jacket. Nat 'King' Cole got it so right. 

Our relationship was good, although I doubt that either of us would call it love. We got on well together, and liked each other. It was a bond forged by growing up and common interests. She did look good. Slim, a pretty face, especially when she put on makeup, with dark hair cut close to her face. On Saturday nights she would wear a nice dress, her slim waist emphasised by a broad belt and ruffled petticoats to spread her skirts out. Her breasts were not prominent yet when we danced close I could feel them pushing into my chest, a rather nice pressure. Walking home after the dance was probably the only time we became a little romantic, I would hold her hand conscious that hers was dainty and clean with painted nails and mine was ingrained with oil and coal dust, the nails broken. Mavis worked in an office as a Comptometer operator, I with brute steam locomotives, solid lumps of coal and hot metals. It was that difference that would become one of the factors that parted us. Mavis lived and worked in a clean world, my world was dirty, and I brought the dirt of work home with me. I could only get my hands clean by scrubbing them red raw, but the smell of oil stayed with you always. Mavis had from time to time asked me why I didn't get a clean job. It was difficult to explain that quitting the railway would be throwing dad's help in his face even though I hadn't wanted that help in the first place.

Being slim it was difficult for Mavis to hide the slight bulge that began to appear in her stomach. I noticed it, but did not put two and two together until my mother asked me if I had done anything I should be ashamed of. I didn't understand why she should ask that.

"I'm sorry, Mum. But I don't know what you are on about?" 

"Don't play the innocent with me, Richard Gilson. You know very well what I am talking about. Mavis! Mavis is pregnant. Now what have got to say for yourself?" Suddenly the light went on. The bulge was a baby. Oh hell! Poor Mavis.

"It's nothing to do with me." I exclaimed truthfully. Mum stayed silent for a while watching my face. A tactic she had used for past misdemeanours when eventually my face would flush and she would know where the guilt would lie. This time I had no reason to feel guilty. At last mum nodded.

"So it wasn't you. But somebody has got to marry that girl. She can't have it out of wedlock." I suppose somebody would have to marry Mavis, but it wouldn't be me. It wasn't mine and I would be buggered if I were going to take on another man's child. At eighteen years of age I was selfish and didn't want to take on the responsibility of marriage. There was a modicum of jealous anger in me as well. I had always thought that when the time came I would take Mavis's virginity. I had tried from time to time, after all it was expected that I would try. I was allowed to feel her breasts and even on one occasion my hand had strayed inside her bra, yet there was no conviction in the attempt. Our families lived too closely, and any suggestion that I had conquered Mavis would get around the neighbourhood faster than the speed of light, that was the sort of efficiency shown by the coterie of gossips in our street. I did take my pleasures from time to time elsewhere. After all young blokes knew other young blokes and there was always someone who knew a girl that 'did'. Occasionally they were right.

With the paternity of Mavis's burgeoning child not laid at my door, I could talk to her about who had done the deed. She was tearful and embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry Ricky; I just sort of got swept away at the time."

"Why are you apologising to me, Mavis?" 

"Well I suppose it was because everybody thought that we would get married one day." She looked at me hopefully. "We still could." I had to laugh. I don't think she saw the funny side of it.

"No. I don't think so Mavis. Taking on another bloke's baby. No way." She nodded, sniffling. "Who was it?" That was the question I needed to ask.

"It was a chap in our office, David. We went out for a drink after work and well...one thing led to another." I got an instant vision of this bloke; white shirt and tie, suited, shiny shoes and most importantly clean hands. I would happily punch his lights out with my dirty hands.

"Is he married?"

"No Ricky. I don't think so."

"Does he know?"

"No. I haven't said anything."

"Then we had better go and see him, and let him know that he is getting married soon."

Mavis looked at me strangely. 

"You will see him?"

"Yes. Just so he knows he doesn't have a choice in the matter." Mavis burst into tears again crying.

"Oh God. It should have been you. I knew you wanted to, I should have let you. Oh what have I done?" I knew full well what she had done and so did she. I knew exactly when she confessed to her parents as when I saw her a day later she sported a black eye, courtesy of her dad. If it had been me that got her pregnant I would have got walloped twice. Once by her dad and then again by mine.

Eventually it didn't fall to me to talk to this bloke David. Mavis's dad and my dad went to have that particular discussion with him. I was in no doubt that if he hadn't agreed to marry Mavis, her dad would have given him a 'good hiding' and my dad would have held his coat for him as he did it. That was the way that justice was served in those days.

The marriage took place quickly and without fuss. No one apart from immediate family was invited. The neighbourhood wives, who maintained that very efficient gossip network were not told yet knew all about it with frequent stops in the street to talk quietly with others, the conversation punctuated with knowing looks and pertinent comments all muttered sotto voce. At first glaring looks were thrown at me, and then they changed to sympathy as the true facts were disseminated. Mavis and her new husband moved away to the other side of town so the arrival of a baby very early would not be more grist to the gossipmonger's mill.

I missed Mavis; we had been companions for many years. We had grown up together and together we had taken those first steps to explore what this life had to offer. I would never have described my feelings as 'Love' but we were always comfortable together and apart from her wanting me to get a clean job we never argued. I suspect that David's clean hands were a factor in her seduction. In some ways I suppose I was a little bit peeved that this bloke was enjoying that which I had always thought would be mine. With her absence I had no one to talk with seriously. The lads I would knock about with only had sport, beer and birds on their mind. I enjoyed those topics too, but not exclusively.

I didn't know then but losing Mavis was not the only significant change in my life. At work the rumblings of modernisation were being felt. In its report of nineteen fifty-five, British Railways had announced a modernisation plan. Steam haulage would go and in its place diesel and electric traction would carry the load. Despite this they carried on building steam locos, the last one being built in nineteen sixty. Usually announcing the plan and actually implementing it was divided by years of discussion and committee meetings. The committees talked and talked trying to make up their minds as to what sort of diesel traction they needed. The first diesels were in service and the build programme was accelerated. Soon they were recruiting men from the locomotive depots to train as diesel drivers. I volunteered and was accepted. Within a few weeks I was driving a first generation diesel multiple unit. My life was so different. The wages were much better to start with. I had a clean comfortable cab to sit in, protected from the weather and I would return home no longer needing the tin bath to get clean.

As is often the case the incident that changed my life was a combination of design and accident. The Traction Inspector decided to accompany me on my roster. He made it plain that he wasn't examining me as a driver, but was more interested in the performance of the train in service. We had a number of different classes, built by various manufacturers, all performing the same duties. He was evaluating their suitability for the work. The controls were always the same so qualifying on one class qualified you on all classes. The problem occurred when we were covering a stretch of line with a reasonable journey between stations. One of the motors started to fail. This was a three car unit with two motors. It cut in and out eventually failing completely. I nursed the unit as much as I could. Stopping on this stretch would create problems as I knew there was an express due to pass us as the next station stop. If I couldn't get there then the timetable would be thrown into chaos. On downhill stretches I would try to gain as much speed as I could, pushing the working engine over its rated revolutions, so that I had the impetus to breast the next upgrade section. It was nip and tuck for a while but I managed to get the train into the platform loop at my next stop. We would be going no further, but fortunately the express was only delayed by a couple of minutes. The Traction Inspector nodded and said. "Well done." I was pleased with myself. Many drivers would have coasted to the next signal and used the phone there to declare a breakdown. Then everyone, Passengers, Driver, Guard and the following express would have to wait for the breakdown train.

Three weeks later I got a letter of commendation from the Area Office, and an instruction to report to the Railway Technical Centre at Derby works, where much of the development of these units was taking place. I was offered a new job with the R.T.C. testing new units and assisting in evaluating their performance. I had no hesitation in accepting the offer, it would mean moving to Derby from Birmingham, but my new salary was sufficient for me to still make my contribution to the family budget. Although I was just a qualified driver, not a research boffin they needed me and one or two others to drive as the Unions would not allow any non-union person to take the controls of any train.

 Chapter Two

Author's notes:

Mallard was a Gresley design of 4-6-2 wheel arrangement which set a world record for steam locomotion in 1938 achieving a speed of 125.88 m.p.h.

A Jubilee was a 1934 Stanier design of 4-6-0 wheel arrangement. Much used on secondary route express services.

I settled in quickly at Derby R.T.C. Part of the job was to evaluate research projects under normal conditions of traffic, which meant I got to drive experimental units. As experimental units could not be allowed to interfere with the timetable the work was done at night, when there was little traffic. That problem would be eradicated later when in the early sixties the R.T.C. was given access to two lines which Dr. Beeching had marked for closure. It was there that we could carry out speed and braking tests. All of this was great fun as some of the new trains would be tasked to travel at high speed. They were looking to a time when one hundred miles an hour was normal speed and one hundred and twenty-five would be attained by expresses. That could not happen until steam traction was eliminated completely, and signalling systems radically improved. That was a part our remit. For the time being we would trundle along at average speeds of seventy to eighty miles per hour, with only a few being tasked to travel nearer an average of ninety.

My life in Derby was exciting. I at first rented a small apartment, giving me much freedom with my social life. I was a frequent visitor to Derby's pubs and ballrooms and I could now invite young ladies who showed the inclination back for some dancing in the horizontal rather than vertical. Then after I had been in Derby for three years I speculated by buying a small house in Littleover. I believe I was the first one in my family to ever own a house. Well the Building Society would own it; it would take me twenty five years to really say it was mine. There was a good bus service from Littleover into Derby.

Railwaymen get concessionary travel so I was able to get back to Birmingham and see mum and dad quite frequently. Sometimes the concessionary ticket was not needed. I was travelling to Birmingham quite frequently to test drive production models of the Blue Pullman sets as they came out of Metro-Cammell. These sets were all Pullman accomodation with power cars at each end. They were painted blue hence the name. In service they were rated at a maximum of ninety miles per hour, but in testing we would push them further even though the ride was very bumpy. When I was in Brum (The local nick-name for Birmingham) I would pop home and see mum and dad. Dad had always been a grumpy old bugger, but these days he was even more bad tempered. He had grown up with and worked steam engines all his life. Now the writing was on the wall, within a few months there would not be a single steam loco in the depot. The offer that was made to all the steam drivers of conversion to diesels was not to his liking and early retirement with compensation was negotiated by A.S.L.E.F. The union that represented footplate crew. The house was owned by the railway but a concession was made and the family could stay there. Whenever I went home the familiar smells of bleach and damp washing assailed my senses. This day was very much like others when I called in.




Echoes from a Bitter Past



Dad may be contemplating retirement but for mum the work was never-ending. She stopped long enough to make a cup of tea for us and sat down to regale me with all the gossip.

"Mavis doesn't look happy."

"Oh! You've seen her?"

"Yes she comes back to see her ma and pa from time to time. The baby's a lovely little thing. She's called him Richard you know." That was quite a surprise to me and as I sat contemplating why she would have done that mum watched me with that 'look' in her eye. I grinned at her.

"No good mum. That look doesn't work with me anymore, especially when I have nothing to confess."

"No? Strange though. That she should name her son after you." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Perhaps it wasn't named after me; maybe she just liked the name." Mum made a noise like "Humph", finished her tea and got up.

"I have to get on." She returned to her bleach and damp washing.

Dad had been silent during this conversation and after mum left he lit his pipe then through the smoke I heard him say.

"She would have liked a grandson, and always thought it would be you and Mavis who gave her that." I shook my head.

"No dad. I don't think that Mavis loved me that way and I was certain I didn't love her. We liked each other, but that was as far as it went."

"Love!" He exclaimed bitterly. "Love isn't for the likes of us, Lad. When the pressures of keeping a roof over your heads, food on the table and clothes on your back come, love can go out of the window bloody quick. 'Like' will see you through. Leave love to them as can afford it." He blew more clouds of aromatic smoke into the room. That was typical of dad. He would make his statement then leave it in the air, never explaining himself. He would let others try to work out the meaning. "So have you got someone?"

"I see some girls from time to time. Nothing serious though."

"Don't bring us any trouble, lad."

"No dad. I am taking care." He nodded.

"Good. A man's got to sow his wild oats, but I am pleased you are being sensible."

Our conversation turned to what I was doing. His opinion of diesels was very low, but he listened without comment as I talked. He came alive when I told him.

"I had one up to a hundred and twenty the other day."

"What?" I grinned and confirmed the figure." He shook his head slowly.

"No one's done that since 'Mallard'. Even then they nearly broke it to get there." He thought about it. "Bloody hell! A hundred and twenty. I had a Jubilee up to the ton once. It bounced about so much that I thought we would be thrown off the footplate." He looked at me with a boyish smile. "Did it feel good?"

"Fantastic, dad."

I left mum and dad after chatting some more and walked down the street. I was thinking of just popping in to say hello to Mavis's parents. I had done as much growing up in their house as in mine. I knocked the door and her mum shouted "come in." As I opened the door I called. "It's me, Ricky." I walked straight through to the scullery.

"Hello stranger." The voice was Mavis. Her mum smiled at me.

"Cup of tea, Richard?" I thanked her and sat down at the table. Mavis's mum was cut from the same cloth as my mum and like mum always called me Richard though all my friends called me Rick or in Mavis's case Ricky. 

"How are you, Mavis?"

"I'm fine, Ricky." She said the words but the conviction wasn't there, making me think that something was wrong. 

"Where's the little one?"

"He's having a nap in the front room. Want to see him?" I nodded and she took me through. I was being polite really, as babies were not of interest to me. He had to be three years old by now.

"Why did you call him Richard?" I enquired. Mavis looked a little embarrassed and then seemed to gather some courage.

"I named him after you, as you were the best friend I ever had."

"Didn't your husband...It's David isn't it? Didn't he have anything to say about it?"

"He didn't care. He never wanted to know anything about me so I never talked about you."

"Still, I would have thought he would want to have some say in the matter."

"No, Ricky. He's just not interested, not in Richard nor in me." Her words and the sadness in her voice as she said them confirmed my earlier impression.

I thanked Mrs. Johnson for the tea, saying I should get back to the station. Mavis asked if she could walk with me. Her mum would look after Richard if he woke. We set out. It would take about fifteen minutes to get to the station. As soon as we turned right out of the street Mavis linked her arm through mine.

"I didn't say anything in front of mum, but I haven't seen David for six months. I think he's left me."

"Oh shit." Not the response that some would have made, but it was good enough for the moment. Mavis seemed to agree.

"Yes." We walked in silence for a while.

"How are you managing?" I asked her.

"I get my Child Allowance. I cash a cheque from time to time; they are always honoured so he must be putting money into the account."

"Well I suppose that is something. But what about the future?" Mavis shrugged her shoulders.

"The rent is paid for another six months and I'll stay to see if he comes back in that time. If he doesn't, I suppose I will have to move back in with mum and dad."

"What will you do then?"

"I saw a solicitor. He says wait for two years then divorce him for desertion, that is if I can find him and he will agree. If not I have to wait five years."

We walked into the station. At the barrier she turned to me.

"It's so good to see you again and all I've done is talk about my troubles. Your mum says you are doing well. I'm pleased about that." 

"It's a lot better than the engine shed," I said , holding up my hands "Look I have clean hands now." Mavis looked shamefaced. 

"I'm sorry about that. I feel awful having said that to you it was so unfair of me." On reflection that was a churlish action on my part, to remind Mavis of our only disagreement. Mavis went on. "Perhaps sometime you could tell me all about what you are doing? It seems ages since we had a good chat. How often do you get down here?"

"At the moment quite frequently. I am involved with the testing of the Blue Pullmans. If you are on the phone I could give you a ring next time? We can have a good chat then."

"I'd like that. David had the phone in for work. I haven't heard it ring for weeks. Perhaps his employers and friends know he isn't living there anymore." I got out a pencil and a bit of paper and noted her number. "Call me anyway. It would be nice to hear a friendly voice from time to time." I found my ticket in my breast pocket.

"I should go now. My train will be in soon." I went to kiss her cheek but at the last minute she turned her head and my lips collided with hers. She gripped my arms and held me until our lips parted. She smiled shyly.

"Quite like old times, eh Ricky?"

"Yes. But you weren't a married lady then."

"I don't really think I am a married lady now. I certainly don't feel like one."

During the journey back to Derby I was thinking about Mavis's problem. I didn't really know why, but somehow I felt responsible for her and needed to help her if I could. My mind at times told me that I should have married her even if the child wasn't mine. Then it was telling me that I had let her down when she needed me. That was stupid! I hadn't got her in that condition, why should I pick up the pieces? Then my mind reminded me that Mavis had always been there for me, she was my friend and that's what we do for friends. This was to give me a few uncomfortable nights in the next week or two.

When I had moved up to Derby I had signed on at the local Technical College to do a course. I was doing it part-time fitting in the study around my somewhat chaotic work patterns. I had taken the final exams a few weeks ago and one morning the letter informing me of my achieving the required standard dropped through my letterbox. The course didn't have too much relevance to my work, but it was a grounding in diesel technology. I showed the certificate to the head of the research department. He was quite interested.

"Richard, this department is going to expand and anyone who has the gumption to go out and get some qualification off his own bat will have a future here. The Pullmans are not performing as well as we would like, anyway they are too elitist and we are looking to move on with something much faster. We won't get the funding until the board get off their respective arses and make a decision, but there is a lot to do. We have to look at safety for a start, vigilance control, braking, better advance warning, a bit like the GWR's system but suitable for the high speeds we are contemplating. There's a lot to do and someone like you should be involved." I liked what he was telling me. My work from that point was very interesting although I didn't get the chance to drive at high speed for quite a while, in fact most of the time I was piloting a single coach up and down a test track of some three hundred yards at speeds of ten miles per hour maximum. This was testing various systems of automatic train control.

With an eye to the future they had developed a light railcar that could be used over lightly laid lines. We knew that many of the branch lines would be closed; Dr. Beeching had outlined that in his report because of the expense of maintaining them. It was silly really, a line that would see traffic of a two coach train every couple of hours over track that was maintained to full main line condition. There was already legislation on the statute book for light railway orders which would suit our railcar and it could be operated by one man stopping at simple ground level platforms. However for some reason this option was never considered. The fact that the Minister for Transport in those days was from a family that owned a road construction business was purely coincidental.

I phoned Mavis one evening to explain that I wouldn't be down for some time, as the testing of the Blue Pullmans had come to an end. The BR board was not happy with them and decided not to build any more after the first phase.

"Oh Ricky, I am disappointed, I was looking forward to seeing you."

"Sorry Mavis. We are getting quite busy here. I will try to get a weekend soon and come down to Brum. Have you heard anything from David?"

"Not a peep. I phoned his work and they said he had given his notice seven months ago. They thought he was moving to Scotland and a new job. They didn't seem too surprised that I wasn't with him." There was a hesitation for a moment then Mavis went on. "I have told mum and dad. They said to move back home straight away."

"Will you move back home?"

"Eventually I will. But for the moment I will stay here. After all the rent is paid for the next few months, no point in wasting the money."

"Does Richard miss his dad?" She laughed bitterly.

"He never really knew him. David was definitely not a doting father, more of a stranger than anything else." I closed the conversation by assuring Mavis that I would get down there soon and that I would see her.

Life kicks us in the teeth at times. Two days later I was the one needing a shoulder to cry on. I was just about to leave for work; it was six-thirty in the morning, when I saw a car draw up outside the cottage. A policeman and a policewoman got out and walked up the short path to my door. I opened it before they had knocked.

"Can I help you?"

"Mr. Gilson?" 

"Yes."

"Mr. Richard Gilson?"

"That's me." The policewoman then spoke.

"I'm sorry Mr. Gilson. We have been asked by Birmingham City Police to contact you. I'm sorry to tell you that there was a house fire at your parent's house last night. From the information we have it appears that there were three victims. I am so sorry to have to give you this tragic news." I was stunned and leant against the door jamb for support. Mum, Dad and William, all dead? It wasn't possible. Yet the sympathetic expression on the young policewoman's face told me it was.

Chapter Three

Authors note: Steam engine drivers were placed in a category according to their experience and route knowledge. These categories were known as Links. Top link drivers usually drove the fastest and most prestigious expresses.

I was able to get to my old home very quickly, thanks to the unofficial help of the station staff at Derby who held a train for three minutes for me. I travelled with the driver in his cab an old steam driver who had converted to diesels. When I mentioned the family name he was shocked.

"Your dad is Reg Gilson?"

"Yes."

"I fired for him for quite some time. I am really sorry to hear your news. I'll let the others in the Link know, if you don't mind. I am sure they will want to know."

He broke the rules and stopped the train at Saltley for me. I ran down the platform ramp to the track and crossed the myriad of lines there finding the gap in the fence that led to the terrace of houses. The house was superficially intact, but as I got closer I could see the windows staring at nothing with blind eyes like a Roman statue. There were a few people still gathered around, the firemen of course, a policeman and the neighbourhood wives, who no doubt were deciding how the fire had happened despite the informed comment of the firemen. I walked quietly and took a position across the road silently contemplating the destruction. Firemen were clearing out anything that could still harbour an ember and throwing stuff out of the glassless windows. I recognised so many items of familiar furniture piled haphazardly in the street, partially burned and blackened. Mrs. Johnson was one of the small gathering and as she talked she turned and saw me. She left the others and walked over. Enfolding me in her arms she cried in a broken voice.

"Oh Richard. This is a terrible thing. Why could it happen to such nice people? You poor boy, you must be heartbroken."

I suppose I should have been, but for the moment I was simply shocked. From Mrs. Johnson, Mrs. Wilkins and the Fireman I gathered what had happened. However the fire started it would appear that dad had got mum out of the house and went back to get William. He wasn't seen again. Mum was taken to hospital where she died as a result of smoke inhalation. The fireman commented about dad.

"He must have had good lungs; he would probably have got as much smoke as your mother." Somewhere in my mind the reason came to me, a moment of logic from a brain trying to cope with the tragedy.

"He drove steam engines all his life. Drivers and Firemen get used to smoke and fumes on the footplate." He nodded.

"Yes. That would do it. He had guts as well, to go back into that." He indicated the blackened building. "It looks as if the fire started in the upstairs back room." That had been my and Williams bedroom. William had always been fascinated with matches. He would strike them, watch them burn then throw them down. There were burn marks on all our furniture. Mum and dad had made sure that the household matches were kept away from where William could find them. I supposed that somehow he had got hold of some and in all probability started the blaze. I didn't say anything about this. My brother had a wretched life with his illness; I wasn't going to condemn him to be remembered as the arsonist who killed his own family.

There was little that I or anyone for that matter could do at this moment. The Firemen would make sure that everything was dampened down and secure the house not that there was anything of value in there. The neighbours who had been evacuated were allowed to go back and I was offered so many cups of tea that if I had drunk them I would be afloat. I went back with Mrs. Johnson. I did accept her offer of tea, although I would have liked something stronger.

"Richard. If you need a bed for the night there is Mavis's old room."

"Thanks all the same, Mrs Johnson. I left Derby in so much of a hurry that I only have the clothes I stand up in. I'll go home soon, and will probably be down tomorrow. I shall have to speak to the insurance man and arrange the funerals." 

"Give it a couple of days, Lad. They're not in a hurry. Come here though, I'll get you a meal, and if you need to stay over there will be a bed for you."

The next day back in Derby I got a phone call from the Insurance man a Mr. Robins. I knew that dad had some insurance with the Co-op but I was surprised that he had taken out insurance for funeral expenses. They would do everything, but needed a death certificate in order to collect the bodies from the hospital mortuary. There had to be an Inquest but in his view that would be a formality. Mum, Dad and William would be interred in the same grave at Yardley Cemetery. Mr. Robins also told me that there would be a small Life Insurance benefit of approximately fifteen hundred pounds, but with the accidental death benefit it would approach double that figure.

That evening I got a call from Mavis.

"Oh Ricky." She blubbered. "What a terrible thing to happen. I couldn't believe it when mum told me." People often say the words of sympathy for the bereaved out of politeness with little emotion. Mavis stuttered and garbled the words as her emotion spilled over. She felt much as I would feel if her parents had been killed; a terrible sense of loss. When she had calmed down I told her what had happened. She showed how much she was involved with my family when she asked.

"Do you think that William was playing with matches again?"

"I think it's a possibility. Without proof we will never know, so I didn't say anything to the fire people. I now understand there has to be an inquest. It's probably better that nothing is said."

"Yes. I think you are right. You don't want to blacken William's name."

The Inquest was a formality. It happened so quickly I didn't even get down for the hearing. I had to go to the Coroner's court to get the Death Certificate and register the deaths. I left a copy with Mrs. Johnson for the Co-op Insurance man. They were as good as his word and arranged everything. Three weeks after the fire I was standing in Yardley Cemetery watching three coffins being lowered down into the communal grave. I was surprised at how many people came. I doubted that any locomotives were being driven that day as so many drivers came to pay their respects to a colleague. There was also a large contingent from South Wales. Our family came from South Wales despite the name and dad was a frequent visitor to the area as he drove the expresses from Birmingham to Cardiff and Swansea. Mavis, looking very good in black hung onto my arm, offering support although I thought that I was giving her more support than she was giving me. I was stoic and calm all the way through the short service and at the graveside, but after the graveside service as people were preparing to leave the sound of those beautiful Welsh voices singing 'The day Thou gavest Lord has ended' was too much and tears trickled down my cheeks. Although her cheeks were wet from crying Mavis took the handkerchief from my top pocket and wiped my tears away.

Chapter four

Life has an even tenor and with the drama over my life settled back into its orderly fashion. My work continued much as it had been for the last few months. Some would have described it as boring but with my interest in what we were doing and the questions that I asked the research technicians tended to look on me as part of their team rather than just as the functionary required to drive their test bed. With no reason to go to Birmingham anymore my contact with my erstwhile neighbours and Mavis dropped off to the occasional phone call. She was always happy to hear from me and I found it difficult to bring our phone conversations to an end as she seemed loathe to allow the call to end. One of our conversations was very illuminating. It would appear that apart from his original seduction, David had shown no interest in Mavis as a sexual partner.




Echoes from a Bitter Past



"Ricky, Apart from that one evening I feel that I am still a virgin."

"He needs his head sorted if you ask me." My reply was flippant but Mavis's reply shook me.

"Is your head sorted, Ricky. You're welcome anytime." Was she being flippant now?

She often asked me if I was seeing anyone. I didn't want to lie, but I felt that I should not tell the whole truth. Instinctively I knew the truth would upset her. So I suggested that what with work and studying; I was back at the Technical College by now; I had little time for a social life. I don't think she believed me completely. We continued our phone chats on a regular basis. In deference to her tight budget if she phoned me, I would immediately call her back. Her call some eight months after the funeral started a significant change.

"Ricky, I have had some news."

"Good news or bad news?"

"I think good. My solicitor has managed to find David. He's in Edinburgh; living with a woman who it would appear has his child. He has replied to my solicitor and says he will agree to a divorce on the grounds of his desertion with the condition that I don't ask for support for me or Richard."

"Can he do that?" I had absolutely no idea about divorce law in the U.K.

"It appears that if I agree, yes he can."

"What are you going to do?"

"Agree of course. It's about time this joke of a marriage came to an end." 

Six weeks later Mavis phoned again.

"Ricky my divorce hearing is happening at the Court next week. My solicitor has asked me to be there. Do you think you could do me a big favour and come with me? I hate to ask really but I shall be all alone there, and you know how places like that can intimidate."

"What day is it?"

"Thursday."

"I'll try. They owe me a day for working the Bank Holiday, so I'll ask if I can take it then. I'll call you when I know."

"Thanks Ricky. If there is one person in this world I can trust it is you." I felt some guilt upon hearing her declaration. The one time she really did need me, I let her down.

We arranged to meet in The Minories, just outside the Lewis's department store. From there it was just a short walk down Corporation Street to the Courts. Why is it that these places are so forbidding? The ceilings so high, the way that people spoke in hushed tones, Ushers and Policeman regarding us with suspicion, as if we were there to be punished. We eventually found the Family Court and Mr. Cox, Mavis's solicitor met us outside. He told us to take a seat as the case being heard at that moment was running over.

"I'll come back and get you when the Court is ready for us." With that he vanished leaving us to sit on the hard bench in the gloomy corridor. Mavis was shaking with nerves and grabbed my hand for support.

Mr. Cox returned twenty minutes later to tell us it was time to go in. He didn't do much for Mavis's composure when he said that the Judge was Mr. Justice Detheridge.

"A stickler for the rules." Was his description. The Court was a surprise. I think both of us were expecting the formal court shown in films, with the Judge sitting on his high bench. Not so. The furniture consisted of two heavy oak tables set in a 'T' shape. The large leather upholstered chair was obviously for the Judge and the chairs set either side of the table which formed the stroke of the 'T' could only be for us minions. Mr. Cox took his seat and motioned Mavis to sit beside him, he pointed to chairs set around the wall for me to sit. I believe the arrangement was to put people at their ease. It didn't do much for me and I could see Mavis literally shaking as she sat.

The Judge entered after a couple of minutes and I was preparing to stand. No one else did so I remained where I was. Apart from the Clerk of the Court, the Court stenographer, Mr. Cox, Mavis and I there was nobody else in attendance. The Judge read through the deposition, talked quietly with the Clerk for a moment and then addressed Mr. Cox.

"Mr. Cox. The application is fairly straightforward and I see that the Defendant, Mr. Russell is in agreement. I am perturbed, first that he isn't represented here and second, that no arrangement for support is mentioned. Could you enlighten me?"

"Yes My Lord. My client has agreed not to seek support for herself nor for the child of the marriage. It was a condition stipulated by the Defendant in return for his agreement."

"Does your Client have independent means?"

"No My Lord."

"I am not happy, Mr. Cox. The Defendant deserted the Plaintiff and now in return for his agreement to divorce is seeking to avoid his responsibilities. I am minded to make an order for support just to remind Mr. Russell that he cannot escape his responsibility so easily. Without independent means your Client is likely to become a charge on the State." He addressed Mavis directly. "Mrs. Russell. Have you made arrangements to support yourself?" I could see that Mavis was trembling so much that it would take time for her to answer.

Why I did this I don't know, perhaps a sudden rush of blood to the brain. I jumped to my feet and said to the Judge.

"I will support Mavis!" Everything stopped and everyone looked at me. After a moment the Judge addressed me.

"And who are you?"

"I'm sorry Sir. My name is Richard Gilson."

"Very well Mr. Gilson. You address me as 'My Lord'. What connection do you have with Mrs. Russell?"

"We have been friends all our lives, we grew up together. We only lived four doors away from each other. My Lord."

"And why should you offer to support Mrs. Russell?" I didn't know the answer to that question myself. My reply was timid and weak.

"I am her friend." Mr. Justice Detheridge regarded me suspiciously.

"I see." He turned to Mr. Cox. "Mr. Cox. Did you have any knowledge of this?"

"No. My Lord. Perhaps I could have a moment to confer?"

"Do so." 

Mr. Cox waved for me to join him and Mavis.

"If you are just saying this to persuade the Judge to approve the application, it will not go down well." He told me.

"I can support Mavis and I am willing to do so." I replied.

"Mrs. Russell. Are you happy about this?" Mavis was looking at me in shock but nodded her head in agreement. He told me to sit down again and looked up at the Judge.

"My Lord. Mr. Gilson and Mrs. Russell are in agreement, and I am assured that Mr. Gilson can honour his commitment." 

"Then I suspect Mr. Gilson is a very good friend. We all should be lucky enough to have friends so generous." He spoke to me again. "Mr. Gilson, you are in employment?"

"Yes. My Lord. I am a driver with British Railways based at the R.T.C. in Derby."

"Can you expand on R.T.C.?"

"My Lord, it is the Railway Technical Centre. They do research and development."

"Perhaps they could do research in how to get your trains to run on time." He actually smiled then conferred with the Clerk. Sitting up up straight in his chair he announced. "Application granted." He signed his name on the paper. Then addressed Mr. Cox. "Mr. Cox. Your client may apply for Absolute in three months. There seems little point in waiting the prescribed period."

I was the one who was shaking when we got outside the Court. I didn't really hear Mr. Cox telling me that I had made a very magnanimous gesture as he shook my hand, nor feel Mavis clinging to my arm her face adorned by a big smile. All I could do was ask myself. What have I done? Mavis and I took the bus back to Saltley. She had moved back in with her parents a few weeks ago and Mrs. Johnson had invited me for dinner. In those days the midday meal was known as dinner, the evening meal was known as tea or supper. We were quiet on the bus both of us thinking. When we got off to walk the few hundred yards to her home she began talking.

"You don't have to do it Ricky. I shall manage." I shook my head but before I could say anything she carried on. "Mum has said she will look after Richard and I'll look for work. We'll be alright."

"Mavis! How often have you and I, and our parents, and all the neighbours said that we would end up together? Well I think it is time we faced up to it. I have a good safe job. I have a home in Derby big enough for the three of us. It's asking a lot of your mum and dad to look after Richard. The best thing is for you to come and live with me. Anyway you heard what Mr. Cox said."

"Are you sure, Ricky?"

"Makes a lot of sense to me."

"Then if you are sure, I will be really happy to come to you."

Mrs. Johnson took the news in her stride, not even bothering to ask if Mavis and I would be sleeping together. Truth be told I had not even given that consideration. I suppose I thought that Mavis and little Richard would share the spare bedroom. Mavis and her mum went off to discuss all the things that women have to decide upon in setting up a new household. I sat down with Mr. Johnson who giving a sideways glance at the door to the scullery, grinned at me.

"Well Lad. It's taken you a long time to get to it, but I'm happy now. Mavis is in good hands. She'll do you right, Lad. No worries." I wasn't too sure if I understood his meaning but nodded in agreement. He went on. "Your mum and dad will rest peaceful now. They always worried about you up there in Derby. You should have invited them up, so your mum could see that you were living properly. Never mind. Mavis will keep you a good clean house, meals on table, clothes washed. She'll do it right, and keep you warm of nights." Now I did understand his thoughts. I was saved from replying as the women came into the room. Mrs. Johnson had a list of things to ask me.

"Richard. Have you got..?" Then she reeled off a long list of items that they thought were essential for proper living. I knew I had the basics. I had a saucepan, who needs more than one? I had two sheets a couple of pillow cases. When they were dirty I took them down to the Launderette, washed and dried them and put them straight back on the bed. Why clutter up the cupboard with more than you could use. Women didn't see it that way. The looks of horror I received from Mrs. Johnson and Mavis convinced me I had committed a cardinal sin. We eventually agreed that Mavis would come up to Derby the Saturday coming and make a list of what would be needed. I could see my wallet coming under severe attack.

Chapter five

I met Mavis at Derby station. This was now a very different Mavis than the one I had seen on Thursday. For a start she was wearing a mini-skirt. I knew they were coming into fashion, the papers were full of pictures of fashion-conscious girls and celebrities wearing them, but I doubt that Derby had seen too many of them up till now. It registered with me that Mavis had very shapely legs and she should wear a mini-skirt. We took the bus to Littleover. It was a short walk from where the bus dropped us to my house. Mavis was overcome.

"Ricky. I thought you lived in the town. This is the country, look at all the fields. I can't believe it. Is it safe?" Mavis, like so many who were brought up in the city where life was bounded by buildings felt uncomfortable in the open spaces of the country. I had to start with, but soon came to appreciate the rural environment.

"Mavis it is safer than Saltley and Nechells. It's the best place to bring up Richard. Loads of fresh air and plenty of places for him to go and play safely." I pointed out the farm where I could buy fresh eggs. "And I mean fresh. They can be still warm from the chicken at times." 

We arrived at my home. The first thing was to make some tea and point Mavis in the direction of the bathroom. And then show her around. She came down with amazement written all over her face. The toilet was inside the house! No one in Midland Terrace had ever seen that before. The house had been described as having three bedrooms, but that was in the far-fetched imagination of the Estate Agent. It was better described as two good bedrooms and a box-room. I used the front bedroom that faced west, getting the afternoon and evening sunshine. I showed Mavis the back bedroom and somehow suggested that it had room for a child's bed and another full size. Mavis gave me that look that women seem to master in infancy. The 'Men are so stupid at times' look. She marched out turned left and opened the front bedroom door. I followed her.

"What side do you sleep?" she asked looking at the bed.

"Well." I stuttered. "On the left, sort of."

"That's ok. I sleep on the right." She looked at me defying me to object, then her face relaxed and she smiled. "Ricky. If I come to live here I shall be a wife to you in all ways. I am sleeping with you because I want to. I want to hold you and have you hold me, to be your woman. Being married to him taught me that the only man I wanted to be with was you." She never mentioned her husband by name now; it was always 'he' or 'him'. "When you stood up in Court and made that offer I couldn't believe it at first. You were making all my dreams come true." As she said these words she started to unbutton her blouse. I noticed in my confusion she was wearing a very pretty bra. The skirt was unzipped and she stepped out of it. She was down to her underwear before I caught up with the situation.

"What are you doing Mavis?"

"Getting undressed of course. I want to make love with you, finishing what we started a few years ago. Aren't you going to join me?" I was out of my clothes even quicker than she. "I think the answer is yes." She smiled happily.

We were brought up to believe that making love was an activity that should be kept to Friday or Saturday nights and even then only in the dark. Making love with Mavis on a Saturday morning, with daylight streaming through the window was piquant to say the least. We decided together that the rules with which we had been indoctrinated would not apply to us anymore. Holding Mavis's slim, curvy naked body to mine was a revelation indeed. I reflected on my spur of the moment outburst in Court and decided that for once in my life I had made the right choice. Mavis stirred in my arms and turned her face up to look at me. Her eyes were sparkling.

"Well Mr. Gilson. You seem to know your way around a woman's body. He was a rank amateur compared." The smile faded a little. "I would have wished that I was a virgin for you, but if it is any consolation you found places that have never been touched before."

"You did seem a little tight at first."

"Under used is the expression I would use." She commented dryly. "Perhaps that will be remedied now."

"Now?" I was shocked. Mavis giggled.

"I don't expect..." Her hand wandered south and found something to her liking. "Oh! Well perhaps now is a good idea."

Mavis stayed all Saturday and left late on Sunday. She didn't get round to making the lists she had come for until late Sunday morning, or was it early Sunday afternoon. She kissed me goodbye at the station telling me that she and Richard would arrive for good next Saturday.

"When I get here, Ricky if you don't mind I shall be Mrs. Gilson to everyone."

"Ok Mrs. Gilson." She thought for a moment.

"I like the sound of that."

And so it was. Mavis arrived and shortly after a large packing case was delivered by the Parcels Office at Derby. It contained Sheets, Pillow cases, Towels, all sorts of cooking utensils. Each labelled with a message of 'Good Luck' from our old neighbours. The generosity of people who had so little amazed us. I didn't get off scot free, as Mavis took me shopping in Derby. We returned heavily loaded with crockery of all description. My wallet was much lighter so that compensated for the weight on my arms.

It was almost by design that Mavis's Divorce Absolute arrived in the post from Mr. Cox, a week before she informed me that she was pregnant. Three weeks later Mavis became Mrs. Gilson in fact as well as in name. Our daughter Jacqueline was born seven months later. I adopted Richard legally just after Mavis and I married. Did I regret any of it? No. I would from time to time feel a little peevish tinge when I thought about Mavis being married to another man for a while, but fate has its own plans for us and all we can do is play the cards that are dealt.

We had forty two good years together. The forty third was purgatory as Mavis coped with ever increasing pain that even the strong pain-killers she was taking could not alleviate. We still slept together, she wouldn't allow any other arrangement and every morning I would get up, make some tea and put that on a tray with her various medications. Even though it was expected, taking the tray upstairs and finding her dead when five minutes ago she had smiled at me as I got up from our bed shook me to the core. My life-long friend had left me.

We buried Mavis a month ago and Jacqui had come round to help me pack up Mavis's things. As she started opening drawers and putting things out my heart broke. I couldn't do it, I wanted to keep her things just as she left them keeping her memory alive for just a little longer. I shook my head and stopped her.

"No, Jacqui it's too soon." I was putting the clothes back in the drawers as fast as she took them out. My daughter looked at me with sympathy.

"We all miss her, Dad. This has to be done though. Tell you what; leave me alone I'll take care of it.

"No love. I want to live with her stuff around me for a bit longer. It's all I have of her now; I can't let it go yet."

"Think about it, Dad. I'll go and make some tea."

Left alone I picked up one of her sweaters, the touch of it, and the fragrance of it brought Mavis to my mind, a mind picture of her smiling at me. All those years together and I never really said to her that I loved her. The picture of her I had in my mind came to life and words from across the divide came into my head.

"You didn't say it Ricky, but your actions everyday told me you loved me." I nodded and whispered a reply.

"Yes Mavis I do love you." I put her sweater to my nose inhaling her scent and tears ran slowly down my cheeks.



Echoes in the Rain



"I'm aware what the rules are. But you know that I will run...You know that I will follow you, over silbury hill, through the solar field... you know that I will follow you"

"Hey Jupiter, nothing's been the same. So are you gay, are you blue? Thought we both could use a friend to run to. And I thought I wouldn't have to be with you...something new."



It would be raining. Fuck it was raining like it would never end. The streets were empty ahead and behind, far as eyes would see.

He walked in the door, after another long day, jeans and button down soaked solid. Keys jingled softly as they fell atop a small wooden table. The apartment felt voluminous in its silence. He had left two weeks before, traveling again for work. Flying across the country& working 18 hour days was beginning to take its toll. It had already cost him friends, and his last lover. There was a simple beauty, though, in the long hours, as they kept his mind focused on the tasks ahead. 

Returning to the door, he saw the letter sitting on the floor, its edge peering up from among the typical bills. It was hand-sealed, with no return address, a novelty to be sure, in this digital age of email and text messages. He picked it up & caught a faint scent, something half remembered and delicious. Not now...I'll wait. There's so much to do and the dog needs a walk and here he is sitting down with a long saved bottle opened just long enough. His pocket knife slipped out, and sliced open the seal. 

It was like she had stepped into the room across all the miles between. It had been years, but the handwriting leapt out at him like a coiled viper, striking him in the heart. What had it been, 2 years since the last time he saw her, since he stood at her back door and watched it closed in front of him? And why now? Why now? Yet...Her words were soft and smooth in his mind, the sound of her voice still sounded the same after the long absence. And why not? Behind and under everything else, she was there. She was always there. Even in the arms of another he could not lose her entirely. No matter the distance, time, or other companionship, it was always her.

Her words were soft. Nothing but a greeting, a wish for a happy birthday, and some kind words of comfort. 

The walls began to move in a little closer. It was a short walk to the computer, and when he got there, the long buried file he sought was still in the same place he'd left it months ago. Then suddenly, the years rolled back, and there she was. Her voice called out through his surround sound, from an almost forgotten day when chasing rainbows was all that mattered. Then, as always, there was the scene where on a crazy drunken night, when she rose like a Siren from the cool pool water, naked and beautiful.

His hand reached down for the rising hardness between his legs, and as she rose out of the water, he stroked himself, remembering the way her body felt under his hands. It was amazing how well she had always fit him, had always known exactly how to touch him in all they right ways, how she could make him come when she wanted, playing his body like a well-practiced instrument of pleasure. His eyes closed and when he came her name was what he called out in the darkness.

So it was and so he tried again to put her back beneath the layers of time. Weeks passed, and he found himself thinking of her more and more. Memories of shared moments, of passion, of long conversations about anyeverything. What once was could not be denied. When his cock was in hand and he pressed hard against the place under his sack to intensify the needed release, her face was first in mind.

Some things will not be denied. So he found himself in a dim-lit bar one evening, alone in a corner, dialing a number deleted, but not forgotten. Her voice came through the speakers, and was there a moment of intense surprise, and intensity there? Not now, not after all this time. There's no such thing as this in the world today. There can't be. The feeling of a long slack rope between two people pulling taught, bringing two opposites too close to avoid snapping together.

The conversations became a highlight of the afternoons and evenings. There was no denying the more they spoke, the closer they became in mind, if not in body.

Then, on a rainy afternoon, it became too much. 

The rain had started again, on a Friday afternoon. As he again was naked on his bed, cock hard and straining against his hand, that he broke. After a long shower, he packed a bag, and boarded a plane to a place he swore to which he'd never return. On his way out, he called her, her voice filling with desire as he told her he'd be there soon, that enough was enough. 

The plane ride was intolerable. The seeming endless moment of being suspended between here and there, with no end in sight until finally the wheels touched the tarmac. The lengthy taxiing into the terminal took forever. The rain had followed him it seemed, delaying the arrival. 

Finally free, he walked down a familiar walkway towards the terminal exit, to find a cab to his hotel. To his surprise, as he came through the last point, there she was, smiling that smile and suddenly her body filled his arms again, legs wrapped around his waist. Her mouth was on his before a word was spoken, her teeth digging into his bottom lip. As his hand slid down her body to support her weight, he felt nothing beneath her short dress, except an inviting warmth that tightened his balls against his body and brought his cock up hard against her. And there she was again, grabbing his hand and pulling him onward. They walked through the parking garage laughing, finding her car on the top deck, against a far wall.

There was no discussion as they opened the back doors to throw his bags in the car. Another surprise awaited him as she opened the opposite door, and he saw the folded down seats and as he looked up her dress hit him in the face. Her naked form was again in front of him, as it had often been in his dreams, warm, wet and inviting. He stripped to match her, and crawled in beside her, hot skin under his hands and he caressed the length of her body while her hands ran through his hair, scratching his neck and shoulders. Her body opened before him, and his lips followed the curve of her neck, to well known shoulders, and he knew where he was going as he spread her legs with his hand, feeling her damp cunt with his fingertips. Her nipples hardened as his bit down hard on them, and his name issued from her lips.

It was delicious, the way her skin tasted. He kissednibbledbit his way down her body while her nails raked deeper into his back. The weight of her legs pressed down on his shoulders as his kissed his way up her thighs. Finally, his tongue grazed the hot opening to her cunt. She pressed downward, trying to impale herself on his tongue, but he moved deftly backwards. There were footsteps in the garage behind them, sounding as though they were a level below. So he slid upwards...kissing up her body until he drove his cock home, deep inside her. They sighed in time, then moving together, fucking like there was never no one anywhere who'd fucked before. They both quickly came together, his cock lodged deep inside her, filling her with hot cum.

Timing had always been good for them, as the security guard walked up just as they had finished dressing. Their laughter was abrupt, and lasting as they drove out of the parking lot to the city. The music was loud, and familiar. The conversation turned to the night's activities ahead, as the car moved slowly through the downpour containing them. Traffic was heavy, and the rain was black around them. Her hand slid over his, as the comfortable silence they'd always been able to share wrapped around them both. She leaned over and began kissing his neck, her lipsteeth nibbling at him, her hand freeing itself from his, sliding down his thigh to find his zipper. Without a word, she pulled his cock free, and began sucking him off. Her mouth was the best. She knew him intimately, and could brink him over and over until no sane thought remained in his mind. Her head bobbed faster and faster as she brought him back and forth towards his second orgasm. Finally, she let him cum deep in her throat, swallowing every drop of his cum and licking him clean. She brought her face up and kissed him deeply, with that saucy smile on her lips. "Two out of three lover, shall we go for three?"



Echoes, November and Incense



"It's cold and gray again,
Your body beings to thaw,
The color blind your eyes,
The flavor dulls your taste of everything,
You try to break out,
But something just locked the door."
-"Burning Skies", Tones on Tails

I was 15 and I thought I was beginning to lose my mind, but I was too afraid to tell anyone in dread of having my fears confirmed. I was just a kid and my perception of madness was as frightening as it was cliché, a myriad of images as thin as paper cut outs of being locked away in a padded room in a white jacket. Each night I closed my eyes to sleep the monsters came, things that skittered and some that shambled and yet still others that oozed like creeping molasses. I began not to sleep much, trying to avoid the abyss of my nightmares. 

Sometimes when I was awake and alone, I would see things move from the corner of my eyes, shadows sometimes darted across walls, there was even the occasional whisper I couldn't explain but would hear. There would be times when I was by myself I would suddenly get the feeling I was being watched, a tingle like some sort of bastardize version of a famous spider sense. I wasn't a superhero; my special power was just sleep deprivation. I wasn't sure if I was just being paranoid or was there something more, it felt like my days and nights were melting together in one big, runny mess.

To make the fear I felt all the thicker, my cousin became an emotional train wreck one day and his next stop happened to be my home to visit my mother. A girl and he were having the sort of party that get people elevated, and in doing so the girl began to act funny before suddenly flipping. Maybe it was just the drugs, but that day he seen and heard something unworldly and evil in that girl, he fled. Even though he sobbingly confessed he would attend church from then on, his fear like his convictions; was short lived. 

A few days later, I had a nightmare that I came home and everyone was dead. I came through the front door on a beautiful sunny day, and the living room floor was saturated with blood, it also speckled the walls. A dark and sickeningly thick trail led up the steps and into the hallway then into my sister's room. I stopped outside the door, my heart was racing and deep down I knew once I opened that door the already buckling sanity inside of my skull would be blasted into oblivion. I touched the door knob and slowly opened the door... 

I woke up with a start, sitting up in a cold sweat and my pulse racing like I had been running a marathon. I didn't see what was in the room; I thanked God for small favors. I had come home to crash after hanging out with friends most of the afternoon, spending that much time in the sun had my head pounding when I finally walked through my bedroom door at 12 something that afternoon. The seething red numbers on the clock across the room told me it was after 4 pm. I gathered my wits, told myself it wasn't real...and then took a shower. 

I always took a shower after a nightmare, even if it was the middle of the night. Some how the hot water felt like it melted away all the blackness that the nightmare came from, and as that water was going down the drain it is taking much of the dread with it. After grabbing some clothes, I packed several CD's and games to bring along.

No one was home and the house was silent, when I opened my room door I could see some of the other bedroom doors were open and scattered sheets of dying light came in through their blinds. I couldn't figure out why but the entire atmosphere felt a little unsettling. I dismissed it and quickly escorted it to the back of my mind; logic can be strong that way.

Crossed the hall.

Down the steps.

When I stepped out the front door and looked up at the sky it hung over head like a specter, big, empty and intimidating. It was all a surreal canvas plastered with stains of lingering but fading orange and gold that were melting into ambers of violet. All of it was tumbling into the approaching blackness and stars. Across the crystal clear, winter sky the sun was dissipating, a dying phoenix that sent the last of its defiant fiery rays across the heavens even as the twilight continued to eat it up.

It was silent, no birds, and no dogs, nothing. That was until the metallic and shrill cry of a train some miles away drifted pass. It was more then the residue left over from my nightmare, the black place it came from night after night got a hairline fracture from my abrupt waking, and it was seeping out into my world. Part of me felt as if I hadn't awaken, that some how I was stranded in a place between being in the real world and the world painted in grays by slumber. I took a few more steps and looked around, my breath steamed on the air as if to remind me it was cold out, and getting colder. I suddenly didn't feel like going too far from the house. I considered going back in and holding up in my warm room, but turning to look back seemed to cause the house to loom with an almost unwelcoming presence. On top of it all the house was also empty. I decided to take my chances going else where.

I hesitated to leave, I had no real reason to hesitate but something stood there like an invisible sign. On that approaching winter evening it felt like the world was haunted and silenced by unseen specters, the sky was a the biggest ghost of them all. 

I shook the feeling and decided to go to Brandon's house; I had told him I would spend a few days over his place once I had gone home and gotten some sleep to continue the day. I began my walk and the ambers of light were slowly draining from the sky over the neighborhood, night felt like it was creeping up instead of just approaching. I went around the corner and crossed the street before stepping onto the train tracks, the crunch of all the white rocks felt like a boom. I walked a lot lighter, why? I had no reason.

The bridge stretched out before me a derelict contraption of dead gray metal and crumbling wood; it wasn't there for beauty, its only purpose was to be the Atlas to the train's world each time it passed. I felt a little better at the sight of the nature trail that led to Meridian Courts. It was always sheltered by trees and they too were becoming intricate patterns against the colossal sky and dying light. 

The silence was so loud, it didn't belong; it was like it stuffed its oversized self in the area and smothered out sound. I wanted to hear a dog bark, a car pass, even birds...but there was nothing except the sounds of my boots as I walked across the bridge. I had reached the middle of the bridge, when I noticed a yellow rope tied to one of the slightly burned post. I became curious and so I walked over, sometimes some of the kids would build traps in hopes of catching something. 

I leaned over and the view of the water and plants below the bridge all came into view, and at the end of the yellow rope their hung the black and white body of a large dog. It was a shock that went up my spine and I took a step back, I remembered waking up and wondered if I was some how in another nightmare. The dissipating twilight felt a lot colder, I leaned to look again and there it remained. That is when the first bird made any noise all day. It was one of the local crows, and it began calling from a distant tree near Meridian Courts.

"God, what sort of sick bastard..." I didn't finish the question; there was no one there to answer it anyway. I walked across the bridge then turned and walked carefully down the bank that were several feet above the waters of the creek. The dog hung from the middle of the bridge, tethered there like a makeshift prop in some ridiculous B horror film. Its eyes still wide with whatever panic and agony it had experienced; its jaws were a lewd spectacle of large white teeth and dripping red blood. The tongue protruded, big, heavy and purple like a small dead creature caught in the jaws of the lifeless beast. 

It was a brutal and elaborately cruel thing. As I stared on my breath continued to steam on the air, the dog swung just ever so slightly at the end of that yellow rope. An odd thing happened, I thought about the dog at the end of its rope, and the metaphor about "being at the end of one's rope" and I suddenly felt like bursting out into laughter, but the scene was so sad that nothing came. How could anyone do that to an animal that could love someone more then itself? I ran a hand over my face as if to wipe something away, I was in awe at the utter brutality, it wasn't the worse thing I had seen and yet it wasn't. It dawned on me much colder then the air surrounding me, suddenly I felt as dumb as I did suddenly unsettled.

I turned and looked around quickly, scanning the banks of the creek and then looking up at the bridge. I listened for noises as I looked everywhere without really moving or making much sound. In my need to inspect the situation, I never thought those responsible could still be there, and could even be watching. There was still that silence, and even the crow was quiet then. I looked around before hurrying up the embankment and onto the nature trail. How could such a thing go unnoticed? I walked at a quickened pace, just needing to get inside some where quickly. The combined efforts of the nightmare, the silence and then the dog were eating away at my reason.

I hurried down the trail shrouded by the numerous trees and bushes, their shadows literally blanketed the ground. Several minutes later I reached the blue-green gate that separated Meridian courts from the creek and other neighborhoods; I tossed my backpack over before climbing over to follow it. I grabbed my bag, hurried through the empty park and basketball court, crossed the street and made my way up the path leading to Brandon's front door. 

I had rung the door bell only once before the door opened and there stood Brandon. "Sup, Walt! Come on in." He didn't need to ask if he hadn't stepped aside I am sure our shoulders would have collided. The dying light was pouring in through the octagon window over his front door and through a large window in the front room. The light ran across one of the walls, glinted on a crystal chandelier and rested upon the French furniture that was reserved only for important guest. It was a place me and Brandon sometimes sat when no one was home and pretended to discuss business; at least we thought it was funny.

Brandon was one of my best friends, had been for years by that point. He was the sort of kid that was really smart but just couldn't stay out of trouble or fly straight. The tragedy that was Brandon was that he could have easily been an honor role student if he could have just buckled down. I witnessed years of conflict between he and his Father, it is one of my sadder memories. The communication lines between Father and son was filled with a sort of static that comes past regrets, grudges and rebellion. They were good people, they didn't deserve it but it was there.

Deep down I believe his Father believed a day would come when Brandon would get his head on straight and prove all his critics wrong, a real Father or Mother always believes that sort of miracle is possible. I was just his friend and yet even I believed that would happen. It was akin to waiting for a personal D-Day. There is almost nothing as disappointing as watching someone you care about making the wrong decisions until redemption seems like a fantasy. It would lead between a lot of fights and even some resentment later between Brandon and me, but at that moment we were just 14 and standing in his living room. 

"What's wrong with you?" Brandon asked curiously. 

"I'm not sure." I replied honestly before shaking my head. "Just having a bad day I guess, some sick bastard hung a dog from the bridge by a rope."

"Serious?" Brandon closed his door and turned to face me completely.

"As a heart attack..." His house was warm and inviting, no one was home so I walked into his living room to take a seat. It was an arena filled with sports memorabilia such as signed balls and gloves, pictures and more. His old man was a sports fanatic, the only other thing he probably loved as much was fishing. I sat on one of the large, black arm chairs and leaned my head back. I was getting another headache, a problem that had always been and will always be with me.

"Damn, that is pretty fucked up. I wonder who would do something like that." Brandon took a seat some few feet away on a couch of the same color. "Let's go back and look."

"Hmm, let me think about that. No." I opened my eyes and looked over at him. "Are you out of your mind?"

"What? You can't come in here and tell me there is a dog hanging from the bridge and not expect me to want to see it!" Brandon frowned. "What could it hurt?"

"What if some psychopath is hiding near by waiting for two idiots to come strolling on back to take a gander at the hanging puppy?" I returned his frown.

"First off I am not taking a 'gander', I am going to go and rudely stare. Secondly, don't you think that is a bit dramatic, Walt?" Brandon laughed a little.

"Yeah, well I'll remember that when you are being murdered on the bridge and I am running away." I chuckled before taking a breath, oddly enough; I really didn't want to go back out.

Brandon stood to his feet and walked over to a coat rack where his coat had been hanging before snatching it off. "Pfft, he wouldn't be murdering me. I would make a deal with him; if he let me go I would help him chase you down so he could make you bleed nice and slow like." He started laughing.

"Sick bastard." I stood from my chair and followed him to the door. I knew were we were going. "Just for that, when I get murdered I am going to come back as a wraith and haunt your Father's restaurant." Brandon and I laughed as we stepped out the front door and began our way back down to the bridge. The sun had sunken completely out of sight by that point; only an ethereal orange halo remained on the horizon. We were silent on our way down the nature trail until reaching the bridge where the dog remained dangling at the end of that bright yellow rope.

"Goddamn, that is some pretty sick stuff." Brandon walked onto the bridge, the eerie silence remained. "Probably was a group of those dumb ass taggers. Someone should wrap a rope around their scrawny throats and dump their ass over the side of the bridge."

"If only." The both of us stared down at the dog for several minutes before I looked up and down the bridge. "Raja give you a call you today?"

"Yeah, I was talking to her a few minutes ago actually before you showed up." Brandon spit over the side of the bridge. "Damn that girl has a body."

"I guess." I replied nonchalantly.

"Seriously Walt!" Brandon exclaimed. "I can imagine how that looks without clothes. She has this great ass that just sways with her hips when she's walking. Not to mention she has those great pair of..." He turned to look at me while he was speaking, I just stared at him.

"Well, I guess we should all have dreams." I rolled my eyes before looking down the tracks, it was completely empty and void of life. For a moment it felt like the entire area was abandoned. Just then a car passed down the street, I felt a little better.

"Are you gay or something?" Brandon suddenly laughed. "I'm talking about a fine ass female and you aren't even remotely interested." He paused for a moment before grinning. "You know that one Filipino chick has a thing for you, right? The short one with the blonde streaks in her hair, I think you should give her a shot. She is hell of pretty, Walt."

"Her problem." I felt a little cold having replied so simply. "Yeah, she's really attractive but...I just have no interest." I looked back down at the dog, I felt sorry for it. I considered untying the rope or cutting it, but then I didn't want it to fall into the cold waters. "Has nothing to do with gay, I'm just not interested. Forgive me for not trying to hump everything in a skirt..."

"Pfft, I like em in shorts too." He laughed causing me to laugh a little. "I swear man sometimes it is like you are in some sort of weird ass daze or something. You wonder why everyone thinks you're so weird."

I looked up at the sky, it was clear and the sunlight was nearly completely gone, it looked as if the sky was going on forever. "I don't wonder because I don't care." I looked from the sky and to him. "Their opinions of me are meaningless."

"If you wanted to have females, you could get one; Walt." Brandon shook his head a little. "Let me hook you up with someone. I still think you should try and talk to Rose, seriously though. What's the problem?"

"Maybe...but if I wanted a girlfriend I would be dating right now." I turned and looked at him. "I also think Veronica is very pretty, you know her, right?"

Brandon searched his memory banks momentarily before remembering. "Vanessa's cousin right? Yeah, Veronica is fine. I didn't know you would date any Latino girls." Brandon said curiously. "You thinking about trying to get her number?"

I smiled a little before looking up at the sky; it had so many beautiful hues to it. I felt like I could stand there and stare at it for hours if it wasn't all so creepy. "No, nothing like that, I have considered it but I like someone else a lot more then her. I don't think I want to ask either of them out, the point I am making is that I think a lot of girls are very pretty, or very attractive, but that doesn't mean I want to date any of them. Besides, most of them are just friends anyway."

"A guy surrounded by so many girls and yet has no interest in any of them?" Brandon rubbed his chin as if he was thinking. "You sure you aren't gay? You haven't dated anyone else since..." He busted out laughing.

"I highly doubt that, and yes I know." I chuckled.

"So, who is this other girl?" Brandon asked curiously.

"Malalee." I stated such simply.

"Why her?" Brandon frowned a bit.

"Because she is really sweet and I think she is also really attractive." I turned to look at him once more. "Why shouldn't I?"

"They call her sticky fingers for a reason." Brandon smirked.

"Ah, you mean your idiot friends." I shook my head. "When will you stop believing everything someone else tells you? Because they are supposedly popular doesn't mean they know what the hell their talking about all the time. I asked her if it was true, she said it wasn't and thus that is good enough for me, man."

"Well, yeah. I guess you got a point Walt. But most rumors have some bit of truth to them. I never dated an Afghan girl before." Brandon chuckled. "Some of them are hell of fine though. Well, I guess Malalee is pretty..."

"Doesn't matter, I will probably never ask her out." I smiled a little knowing deep down it was more then just a little true. "I do really like her though." I wanted to change the subject, that sort of subject always bothered me for one reason or another. On top of that it was growing dark out, the shadows seemed to began to deluge. "Things better between you and Raja?"

"Yeah, we aren't fighting anymore." Brandon chuckled.

"Well good to hear things are calm with the both of you again." I slid my hands into my pockets. "Might as well head back; unless you know the secrets of the resurrection." I started walking off the bridge and Brandon followed.

"Yeah, but I can only use it once and I am saving that for me." Brandon chuckled as we started back on the path, maybe it was true because years later he would come back from death's door. We were quiet for a while before Brandon spoke again. He slid his hands into his pockets and looked around first. "You know something, Walt? This is a creepy damn day."

Hours later Brandon, his little brother and me were sitting in the upstairs family room playing Double Dragon and Battle Toads. The room was completely dark as me and Brandon censored our conversation about people at school as to not have his little brother repeating a lot of our words. The door opened and Mr. Jones took a couple of steps into the room, he was still dressed in his suit with just the tie undone.




Echoes, November and Incense



"Hey." I said in greetings when he entered.

"Hey, Walter, how things going?" Mr. Jones asked.

"Their going." I replied and smiled a little.

"That doesn't sound too great, but its better then not going, right?" Mr. Jones laughed a little before looking to Brandon. "You finish everything today?"

"Yep, everything is done Pops." Brandon paused the game.

"Now, when I say everything I mean even the things you didn't want to finish." Mr. Jones seemed to wait as if he was letting that sink in.

"Yes, I meant everything." Brandon frowned a little.

"Good, I am glad to hear that. Thank you." Mr. Jones nodded before taking off his glasses and folding them up. He looked around before his tone became less serious and he laughed a little. "Whoa, wait a minute...why are the two of you sitting in here in the dark with only the romantic light of the television?"

"What!?" I asked nearly coughing on air I sucked in. "What is that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing, Walter...just was asking a question, I don't want to get into you and Brandon's business or anything." He started laughing before walking in and picking up his son who hugged him with a laugh. "I think I am going to remove my youngest son from this peculiar situation."

"You're a sick man, pops!" Brandon began laughing.

"I beg to differ; I am not the one sitting here in the dark with a romantic glow and just his buddy...with the door closed." Mr. Jones continued to laugh even as he left the room with his youngest son. "You two have a good night...just don't go telling me about it." With that he closed the door and we could hear him laughing even on his way down the hall.

"Well then." I said dryly before getting up and turning on the light and sitting as far as possible on the couch, I was nearly on the arm.

"He's a sick individual." Brandon laughed and unpaused his game. "A sick, sick man..."

Just then the door opened and Mr. Jones was coming back to get a toy his son has left, he looked around the room noting the lights and where we were sitting by then. He suddenly bust into laughter as he walked out shaking his head.

We played for a couple of more hours before Brandon got to his feet and yawned. "Man, I am going to crash. You can have the bed if you want, man."

I rose a brow. "You kidding? And look like your undercover lover?" I picked up my covers and the extra blankets. "It isn't even the gay thing that bothers me; I would just like to think if I was then I would have much better taste." I picked up an extra pillow. "No, thank you. I will take my chances out here in the family room. Besides...I know what you and those girls be doing in that bed." I cringed. "I believe in sleeping in unsoiled places."

Brandon bust out laughing before he began walking to his room. "Fuck you, last time I will try and be a polite host, you rotten bastard. Anyway, catch you in the morning." 

"See you then." I laid my blankets and pillows out under the window of the family room and opened it. Cool air slid in and on it was the scent of leaves and damp grass; it had a sort of calming affect on me. It felt good, the pale orange-yellow light of the street light painted the shadow of the blinds across my covers over my legs. I could hear the whisper of sprinklers on the front lawn. I took off my cross before whispering a quiet prayer then laying down to sleep, it took a while but I finally drifted off. 

It was a dreamless sleep until the image began to form. It was me watching myself; I had been stripped of my clothing and was laying on a stone ground. A thing approached and the me watching tried to scream, to warn the me that was just laying there unconscious. When I could see what it was, it was a scaly, onyx colored monstrosity that loomed over me. It began horrors, rapping and tearing my unmoving body to pieces, but I could make no sound, only watch. It was terror, something wholly unbelievable and yet so real. I woke with a jolt and felt a scream trapped in my throat, I was covered in a sheen of sweat, had a small headache and my heart was racing. I sat there breathing in the dark, the cold night air felt good.

My hands were trembling when I pushed my covers away. I continued to sit there for sometime, it was 4 am when I looked over at the clock. I decided to get up and take a shower, when I was finished I dressed and sat on the couch after closing the window. I sat there thinking and not sleeping until the sun chased away the darkness and the house began to stir. I was grateful when the first hints of sunlight began touching the carpet through the windows.

"You're up early, Walter." Mr. Jones was entering the family room on his way to wake Brandon up. He was a firm believer in waking up early no matter what the day was and he applied the same rule to his oldest son. "You sleep okay?"

I smiled a little though I was getting another headache and the dream left me feeling cold. "Yes...thank you. I guess I just decided to get up early."

"Ah, well at least someone did." He smiled a little before going off and knocking on Brandon's door. "Well, wearing black as always I see. Guess no one is perfect."

"Would it be alright to get two aspirin?" I called after him before standing to my feet.

"Sure, go ahead. You didn't have to ask. There is a bottle in the downstairs bathroom." Mr. Jones knocked on Brandon's door as I walked off to get my aspirin. The house was filled with light due to all the large windows, it is practically glowing. Can't say I appreciated the full affect.

By the time I had taken the aspirin and splashed water on my face, Brandon was coming down the steps. "How'd you sleep, Walt?"

I smiled a little. "I slept well." It was my first and only lie of the day. I just didn't feel like going into it all. "So, what's on the agenda list today?"



Echoes of Hell



This is another story I wrote for the same contest as the previous one I submitted. I was hesitant about submitting this, fearing that someone would accuse me of plagiarism. It was written and completed about four years before an author wrote a novel about this very type of story, one that I have not had the chance to read myself.

I'm submitting it 'as is', before any cuts were made to shorten it to 7500 words (one of the rules in the contest). I swear, on my word of honor, any similarity between this story and the aforementioned novel is completely and entirely coincidental.

_______________________________________________ 

Finally, he thought, I'd thought I'd never get all that bloody sand out.

Emerging from the guest quarter's head, Lieutenant Commander John Winston Kyle was rubbing out the last of the water from his hair. Tossing the towel on the bunk, he tightened his bath robe and sat down at the desk, where the journal was waiting for him

He hadn't had a chance to go through it yet, but figured that there would be time enough after he had cleaned up. 

Kyle could hardly believe the events of the past few days actually happened, and was shocked beyond belief when he found out who was responsible for the nightmare he and most of the crew was forced to endure. 

How the bloody Hell could we have made such a foolish mistake, he thought.

Serving as Chief of Communications, it was his duty to keep in contact with the science station they were closely working with. While patrolling star system after star system, Kyle sent constant updates to Spacelab Regula One, a science/research, orbiting space station where the top science team there was in the process of finishing preparations for their latest experiment. The U.S.S. Reliant was ordered to render assistance for their project called 'Genesis', an experimental procedure that, when delivered into a certain type of planet, would almost instantaneously terraform the surface. Instead of a lifeless moon or an inhospitable world, the experiment would turn it into a living Class M planet, capable of sustaining most humanoid life forms.

Reliant's part in the experiment was to find a suitable test site, meaning a planet with the right size, mass, gravity, and other necessary factors... with absolutely no life on its surface. The Genesis Device, an enhanced torpedo-like mechanism, rearranged matter at the subatomic level upon impact with the surface and would destroy any type of life that was there. If there was so much as a microbe on the surface, the planet would be considered 'unusable'.

And that was the main problem they had. Finding a planet within the habitable zone of a star system that didn't already have life on it was difficult, and that was putting it mildly. For weeks, the Reliant traveled to different system throughout their patrol sector trying to find a proper test region for Regula's experiment, with no success... until a few days ago.

Approaching the Ceti Alpha star system, the Reliant slid into orbit around, what they thought was, the sixth planet. It was a very unpleasant world, dominated by sands, winds of high velocity, and a limited atmosphere. The perfect conditions for the Genesis experiment... until they picked up a minor energy reading on the surface.

After consulting with Dr. Carol Marcus, the head of the science team, Captain Clark Terrell decided to beam down and investigate this find. He and his first officer, Commander Pavel Chekov, went down to check it out but because of the surface conditions, communications were extremely limited. Once contact was re-established, the science officer immediately ordered them beamed back to the ship. They all breathed a sigh of relief when Captain Terrell and Commander Chekov entered the bridge, but it was short lived. For right behind them were five others, dressed in rags and covered in grit... and brandishing phasers. 

And when the one in the middle made his way to the front of the group, all the color in Kyle's face drained away. Standing in front of him was the last person he ever expected to see again.

Khan Noonien Singh.

A product of late twentieth century genetic engineering, Khan was found in a sleeper ship drifting through space by the Enterprise about fifteen years earlier. The ship, the S.S. Botany Bay, held some seventy refugees from the Eugenics Wars, a precursor to Earth's World War III, and was launched just after the enhanced 'supermen' were finally defeated. Once they realized that Earth would tolerate their tyrannical rule no longer, they used the ship to escape and sealed themselves in suspended animation.

Two and a half centuries later, the Enterprise under the command of Captain James Kirk found and revived Khan from his hyper-sleep. He managed to revive the others of his cadre and attempted to seize the Enterprise for their own purposes.

Kyle was one of the first to be subdued by the dictator. While in the transporter room, Lt. Marla MacGivers, the ship's historian, entered and threatened him with a phaser. Once he backed away from the transporter console, Khan came at him from behind and rendered him unconscious with some type of pressure point grip to his neck. He was rudely awakened by one of Khan's followers and taken to the hangar deck, along with most of the rest of the crew, and told that if they didn't cooperate, the hangar doors would be overridden and opened, blowing everyone inside out into space.

While Kyle and a couple of engineers were working on an escape, namely getting inside one of the Jeffries tubes and working their way to another deck, they were startled by shouts coming from the hangar. A steady mist of white vapor started billowing out of the ventilation ducts; anesthetizing gas, part of the ship's intruder alert/deterrent system. The last thing Kyle saw was dozens of crewmembers collapsing on top of one another as the gas started to affect him and efficiently put him and the crew to sleep.

The next thing he remembered was a nurse from Sickbay trying to revive him, hovering over him and a dozen others nearby lying on the hangar's deck. He was told that Khan had been captured, his followers rounded up and placed in the brig, and their plan to take control of the Enterprise thwarted.

What surprised him and most of the crew was what Kirk had done afterwards. The captain had ordered all charges dropped and sentenced Khan and his group to exile on Ceti Alpha V, a habitable world though somewhat primitive by most standards with its untamed wilderness. Seeing it as a chance to tame a world and build his own empire, Khan accepted the challenge. Lt. MacGivers, given a choice of a court-martial for assisting Khan in his unsuccessful takeover of the ship or accompanying him to the planet and joining him in exile, chose to go with him. And that was that; the incident was considered 'classified', the entire matter closed and ultimately forgotten.

How could any of us have forgotten where we left him? 

Kyle chided himself for his inattention. Granted, it was over fifteen years ago, but events like that aren't easily forgotten... or at least they shouldn't be.

And how the bloody Hell did they manage to get to Ceti Alpha VI?

Khan and his band took control of the Reliant the same way Kirk took back control of the Enterprise: using the intruder deterrent system and gassing the entire crew, with the exception of the bridge personnel. Though the layouts of the controls aboard starships were altered in appearance, their functions were basically the same as they had been for more than two decades. Remembering Khan's superior mind, not to mention memory, Kyle figured he had remembered all he had read about a starship's stations and functions, memorizing the technical manuals he had scanned through while recovering in the Enterprise's Sickbay after being revived from hyper-sleep. 

Rounding up everyone and assembling them on one of Reliant's two main hangar decks, Khan ordered the crew to abandon the ship. When some refused, he forced five of them onto a cargo transporter along with a homing beacon and transported them down to the surface. Already knowing what conditions were like on Ceti Alpha VI, Kyle knew the five crewmen would be dead within a matter of minutes.

Khan gave them a choice: abandon the ship using the shuttlecrafts and various other crafts on board, or follow the preceding five via the transporter. Outgunned by Khan's followers, including Captain Terrell, Commander Chekov, and about two dozen security officers, all armed with phasers set to 'kill', the crew had no choice but to leave using the shuttles, given the nature of their destination.

In twos and threes, the shuttlecrafts left the ship and followed the signal from the homing beacon. Once the hangar deck was clear, Kyle and others near viewports saw the Reliant bank away from the planet and disappear into subspace.

Now, given absolutely no choice, the tiny ships made their way down to the surface. Kyle, being the company's ranking officer, scouted the area around where the beacon had been transported to determine the best course of action in landing procedures. He found the beacon setting next to what appeared to be a cargo container and hope leaped into his heart, thinking that the five crewmen that were sent down with the beacon found their way into it. For there was no possible way anyone could survive out in the open without proper protection. The ferocious winds blowing sand in all directions would make sure of it.

They had trouble landing, but Kyle's shuttle crew managed it with a few jarring bumps; the hurricane strength winds buffeting the shuttle's hull with shrieks and groans. Donning environmental suits, Kyle and his crew were set to explore their new, hopefully temporary, home. After he ordered the rest of the shuttles to start their approach and warning them in advance about the landing conditions, he and his shuttle team exited the craft.

The first thing they noticed about their surroundings was they really couldn't see it very well. Winds whipping sand and sediment everywhere made it impossible to see more than five feet in front of them. But just ahead of the shuttle's nose, they could see the distinctive strobe flash of the homing beacon. Fighting the wind, Kyle edged his way to it in an attempt to adjust the signal so the other shuttles would be able to home in on it better. But upon reaching the device, he tripped over something causing him to tumble into a sand dune. Recovering, he saw what had caught his boot... another boot.

Kyle and two others franticly dug into the sand and uncovered one of the previous crewmen beamed down with the beacon. Without protection, the crewmen succumbed to the blowing sand and gases in the atmosphere, suffocating him. Digging around the beacon, they had found two others from the five in the same condition; the other two were nowhere to be seen, instantly buried under the drifting sands upon arrival.

Kyle ordered everyone inside the container and, feeling their way around the sides, they discovered a makeshift airlock. Kyle chose to remain just inside the anteroom shanty outside the door in order to guide the others coming down in the arriving shuttles.

At first, there was little problem in landing the crafts, albeit Kyle was sure some of them would be nauseous after being tipped and swayed by the winds. One after the other, the shuttles set down near the ramshackle cargo box, which turned out to be several when the sands cleared just enough for Kyle to see them stacked against each other end to end, more or less.

But the wind had other ideas, for when the last of the shuttles started descending the gusts kicked up and blew a couple of them off course. One was blown sideways and, attempting to right itself but overcompensating, flipped into a barrel roll and sailed over the container, missing it by mere feet and making Kyle instinctively duck. Another was caught in a down draft and plummeted to the ground, smashing into another shuttle already parked there. The one on the ground was empty, but the crew inside the other perished in the resulting explosion that followed the impact.

Two others joined Kyle outside, seeing if there was anything they could do to help, but he stopped them knowing the one shuttle had disappeared into the blowing sands and the other was a flaming funeral pyre. Other crewmen appeared in the viewports of their crafts and some in the cobbled together ports of the container walls at the sound of more craft attempting to land... and were sickened at the sight.

The few remaining craft were inspection pods, used to inspect the hulls of starships before, during, and after any damage occurred or any repairs were made. They weren't meant to land on a planet, but Khan had given them no choice; the escape pods would have a slim chance of surviving entry into the planet's atmosphere. Any other Class M world, probably, but not this one.

Two or three pods actually made it to the surface with minimal trouble, but the others were caught in the sudden gusts of wind just like the doomed shuttles were. One tried to land, despite the harsh winds, but was blown sideways and slammed into a dune. Another actually bounced a few times before finally landing, roughly upside down. The remaining four, out of desperation, popped open their emergency drag parachutes in an attempt to slow their descent, but it only served to hasten their demise. The winds instantly grabbed hold of the chutes and tossed the pods around like tether balls; two of them being slammed into each other when their chute lines got tangled and exploding like a nova, the other two picked up and carried away, disappearing into the sand driven haze.

Once the last of the crafts had landed, the survivors made their way to the containers, with Kyle and his companions guiding them and ushering them in. And when everyone was inside, Kyle took one last look at the barren, treacherous landscape of Ceti Alpha VI and, with a sense of foreboding, sealed the airlock door shut. He then got a proper look at their surroundings, after making sure no one was in need of serious medical attention.

The hollowed out cargo unit was stripped down to the bare walls, cannibalized of anything that was considered useful. Makeshift cots were hung on one wall, pots and pans and other utensils hanging from another. An old viewport was sloppily inserted into a hole cut right next to the airlock door apparently, judging from the old burn marks around it, with a phaser. Personal belongings were scattered everywhere, including a homemade chess game sitting on a small container, and in the air hung the smell of unwashed clothes and sweat.

Kyle was going to check the adjoining room/container, but stopped himself; he had other things to do first. The other room could wait.

He ordered the crew to take a head count and then afterwards start searching for things they were going to need if they were going to be there for awhile, namely food and water. The heads of each shuttle crew reported to Kyle and added up the numbers: one hundred and ninety-two... out of a Miranda Class cruiser compliment of three hundred and fifty-three. Kyle did some quick subtracting in his head. Captain Terrell, Commander Chekov, twenty-four or so security personnel, and he had overheard one of Khan's brutes saying something about taking control of the engineering staff and using them to maintain the ship's engines and power, about sixty-five in all. Plus the five Khan had beamed down earlier. 

Now, accounting for (Kyle guessed) the ten or so crewmen in each shuttle that was lost, and the four or five others in each pod that went down, that left about two dozen people unaccounted for. Whether they were part of the security or engineering crew being manipulated by Khan, there were more in the crashed shuttles and pods than he thought, or Khan and his group had simply killed them outright to get them out of the way, there was no way to be sure.

Giving up on speculating, Kyle rallied the remaining crew of the Reliant and organized them into groups. One would search for water, another for food, and another for assessing any working equipment they could use, especially communications equipment. The remaining groups would organize living and sleeping arrangements for the crew, and make any injured crewman comfortable by setting up a makeshift Sickbay.

Kyle heard the shouting of discovery ten minutes later. Racing through the connected containers, he came upon several crewmen gathered together at the far end. They parted to let the commander through and to show him their discovery: the end wall was actually one huge door. Removing pieces of equipment that hung there revealed the bisection of the wall, neatly concealed behind a flap of metal made to look like a support strut, the securing rails, used to prevent cargo from sliding around inside the container, were door handles.

Opening one door, then the other to prevent them from hanging up on each other, the disguised hatch opened up onto a gently sloping walkway that led down. The walls and ceiling looked like hull material, but it wasn't fitted together like the hull of a ship; more like hull plates hastily welded together to connect the container to... whatever was below. The sheets near the door weren't quite lined up right to form a smooth finish and obviously not too thick; they could hear the wind screaming passed, pounding sand and grit into them, and making a few of the plates rattle.

Ordering everyone to wait there, Kyle took three crewmen with him and descended into the metal pit. All of them brandishing pipes and what-not; anything they could use as a weapon, for they had no idea what was awaiting them once they reached the bottom. 

Not fifteen feet from the wall/door, they found themselves standing on deck plates; they were inside a ship of some sort. There was light, but it appeared to be spread out casting eerie shadows all around them, and the view was the same behind them when they ventured around back of the ramp.

The long deck was lined with some type of drawers with glass inserted cabinet doors in both directions and on both walls. The empty space dominating the middle of the deck had what looked like support strut connection tips sticking out of the flooring, indicating that something was there but had been removed. Old control panels, about three hundred years out of date, were set at each end of the deck next to a stairwell, none of which showed any sign of power. 

Kyle called down two more groups of three and told them to explore the... vessel, dwelling, whatever it was. The teams headed away from the ramp and split up once they reached the end, while Kyle's team headed in the opposite direction. The stairwell they came up to led up as well as down, and he told his three crewmen to head down and rendezvous with the other teams. They cautioned him about going on alone, but Kyle told them not to worry because he was somewhat certain that there was no one here, for he had a suspicion about what this place actually was.

Watching his team descend to the next level, Kyle proceeded upwards, carefully placing his feet gently on the steps to avoid making any noise that would give him away, just in case his hunch was wrong. Kyle passed two more decks, narrow and confined, on his way up. They revealed what looked like a galley and some sort of briefing room surrounding the stairwell. But when he finally reached the top level, his suspicions were confirmed.

He found himself in an old control room, a bridge with three or four stations lining the walls and a navigation console set in the middle of the deck, all dark and without power.

And the last piece of evidence he needed to confirm his hunch was on the wall behind him: a bronze plaque, dusty and tarnished, with the inscription stamped boldly in large raised letters.




Echoes of Hell



S.S. Botany Bay. 

I knew it! How the ruddy Hell could I have forgotten this?

Before leaving Khan and his followers to their own devices, Kirk had ordered the area where they were beamed down scouted for a potential landing sight. They located a valley not far from the beam down area; not a large one, but large enough to hold a ship in place. 

Using the mighty starship's powerful tractor beams, the Enterprise towed their sleeper ship into position and lowered it into the sizable gouge in the region. It was slow going, for they couldn't just drop it into place just like that. The friction from entering the atmosphere would burn the Botany Bay to ashes if they went in too fast, and would cause irreparable damage to the Enterprise as well. Gravity had become a problem when the maneuver was almost complete; the starship had to enter the atmosphere as well to place the sleeper ship properly into position, and the gravitational forces rocked the Enterprise like an acrobat trying to keep his balance on a tightrope. 

But once done, a twelve hour operation, the Botany Bay was sitting snug and secure, wedged between the walls of the large ravine with only minimal damage to its bottom hull. Khan and his group could use their ship for whatever purpose they saw fit, as well as the provisions stored away inside. And then the Enterprise was gone, leaving Khan to tame their new home and build his empire.

Kyle noticed something else on the bridge of the ship, things that were not standard equipment; a bed, for starters. Made from recycled parts of whatever they could find and a mattress made from two blankets sewn together and stuffed, the bunk was big enough for two people. Off to the side, a table with two chairs and two large storage lockers. These things had turned the bridge into living quarters.

Opening one of the lockers, Kyle found Starfleet uniforms and off duty clothes made for a woman, with other paraphernalia for feminine use and artists' supplies at the bottom.

Marla's, he thought.

One of the items of clothing was a ceremonial uniform, used for formal gatherings and top-brass protocol, complete with sash and weapons' belt with a sword and sheath. But the buckle for the belt was missing; that jogged Kyle's memory.

Khan's pendant, he surmised.

He remembered seeing Khan wearing it around his neck when he first set foot on Reliant's bridge. It was metal, shaped into the style of the Enterprise's uniform emblem, now the emblem that represented all of Starfleet.

So, that's where he got that from, but where was Marla? She wasn't with Khan when he...

Suddenly it dawned on him. If the one locker belonged to MacGivers, then the other one must be...

Kyle opened the other locker quickly, producing a shriek of metal against metal, and peered inside. It was almost empty.

Almost, for with the exception of the red jumpsuit he had worn the last time Kyle saw him on the Enterprise hanging on a hook, at the bottom was something wrapped in cloth from a blanket. He was just about to remove it when he heard the search parties calling for him. He decided to leave it for later.

Reaching the lower level of the stairwell, Kyle met up with the search teams, and they immediately grabbed him and hustled him to the ramp. He thought that maybe they had found someone still there and not in a good mood, considering where they were. They found something all right, but it was far worse than a disgruntled follower of Khan. 

They reported that there was some food stored away below, probably leftover provisions from the Enterprise and jugs and containers of water. They had found the three matter re-sequencers Khan was given to replicate simple foodstuffs and water for his group, all of them inoperable. The light was coming from about two dozen fusion powered glowballs, only half of which were still working, and one team checked out and found the Botany Bay's main power reactor. Its nuclear generator, used to power the vessel's engines and life support containers, looked as though it had been jerry rigged to get it operating again, but was now dead; its reactor core cold, its small supply of fuel rods exhausted.

That was the reason for their hasty departure. The resulting toxic waste from the spent fuel rods had rendered the entire aft compartments radioactive and, without proper shielding to hold it in check, at dangerous levels. The compartments were sealed off with a hastily constructed barrier, but radiation was seeping through the weak spots. 

Kyle ordered everyone back up top and told them to wait until he returned. He dashed up the stairwell, taking two steps at a time, and hurried over to the lockers. Opening Khan's, he snatched up the wrapped parcel and was surprised to see an object lying underneath it: an old style phaser. He checked it quickly, but found it was out of power and useless. Dropping it back into the locker, he bolted back down the stairs.

Hurrying up the ramp, Kyle squeezed pass the doors that were now being closed and franticly being sealed up again. One of the medics was checking everyone out that had gotten near the reactor and found minimal traces of radioactivity; it was there, but posed no threat to the crewmen that were exposed once radiation treatment was administered. 

Breathing a sigh of relief that they were safe for the time being, Kyle told everyone to get comfortable and remain calm. He was certain that, once Starfleet was apprised of the situation, a ship would be sent to rescue them. While the crew got settled into their temporary home, Kyle ventured into the far container near the airlock.

He found various pieces of equipment, some with minimal power and others dead, and personal trappings on the bare walls, along with another makeshift bed, this time made for only one person.

Hanging next to a seat belt with 'Botany Bay' stamped on the buckle was a shelf stacked with books, real books with paper pages. 'King Lear', 'Paradise Lost', 'Moby Dick'; fiction. 'Holy Bible'; religious dogma. A few text books on mathematics and agriculture, but nothing else of importance. Kyle surmised that these were not needed when the Reliant was boarded by the supermen. Given his genetically engineered intellect as well as his physical body, Khan more than likely had memorized every single word in every book available. 

Kyle spied something that puzzled him. On a large container pulling duty as a table, there was a clean area on the surface with two dirty ones on either side of it. Something was obviously sitting there and had been removed recently. Khan felt it necessary to bring something with him when he came on board but, with that item apparently being the only exception, none of the belongings surrounding him were of any use to Khan, then or now.

Including the wrapped item in Kyle's hand.

Carefully removing the cloth wrapping, he discovered that the package was another book, the cover a heavy, leather type material and showing signs of wear as if it were constantly being opened and read. Cracking it open, Kyle found out why.

The book's contents contained dates and paragraphs hand written on slightly fading paper, like entries in a log. The first sentence read: 'My name is Khan Noonien Singh. To whoever discovers this journal, know that this is a record of mine and my followers' trials on this world...'

Oh my God, he thought. This is Khan's personal journal.

One of his crew shouted for him, stating that she had found a communications terminal and, though dusty and unused for years from the looks of it, it could still function if they had the power to operate it. Kyle, being the Reliant's chief communications officer, set about the task of powering up the unit, using two portable generators one of the shuttle crews managed to bring with them.

After a couple of hours, Kyle was started to tire. The strain of taking command, organizing the crew, and gathering supplies was wearing him down and was making him unable to focus his eyes on the comm unit. A technician gently took the tools from him and told him to go rest while he and another tech worked on getting communications established. Grateful for the break, Kyle wandered over to one of the wall hung bunks and laid himself down, napping quietly with a few others as the rest went about their business.

Two days went by, and on the third day Kyle awoke to the sound of static and a distorted voice. The crew had gotten the comm unit working and was in contact with someone. A ship had arrived in orbit and was preparing to beam them aboard.

A collective cheer rang through the containers as they readied themselves for departure. Due to the conditions on the planet surface, a transporter lock was difficult. Adding to the problem was the fact that the crew was surrounded by metal and, farther down below, radiation interfered with the signal. Sealing themselves in their environmental suits, Kyle ordered the crew to head outside and stand next to the homing beacon in groups of six, making sure that the injured members were beamed up first. It was slow going, but eventually Kyle found himself to be the last one to leave and, taking one last look around the decrepit barracks and tucking the journal under his arm, he forced his way out into the unforgiving landscape of Ceti Alpha VI and signaled for a beam out.

An hour later after the medics checked him over for injuries and possible radiation exposure, there he was sitting in guest room quarters on board the U.S.S. Merrimac, another Constitution Class starship similar to the Enterprise.

The first thing he did was strip out of his uniform and jump into the shower to clean off the gritty sand that had somehow manage to get through his clothes and permeate almost every nook and cranny on his body. A real shower, with water; hot water too, and lots of it. After what seemed like an hour, he had finally managed to rid himself of the hateful sands of Ceti Alpha VI and everything it represented.

And now, sitting on the desk just waiting for Kyle to crack it open and bear witness to everything that had happened to the exiled band of supermen, was Khan's journal.

Hesitantly at first, Kyle tipped the front cover back to reveal the first page... and began to read...

* * *

*** My name is Khan Noonien Singh. 

To whoever discovers this journal, know that this is a record of mine and my followers' trials on this world and a testament to the glorious empire that will arise here.

I was born in the Northern India region on a planet called Earth 307 years ago by their calendar. I, along with others from different areas of our world, was chosen to undergo an experiment that would alter our genetic forms and transform us into a superior breed of our species, known as human. The experiment was successful. It gave us increased strength, stamina, endurance, and most importantly of all, enhanced intellect.

But realizing too late that superior ability breeds superior ambition, the scientists that created us decided to terminate the experiment... and us. We and our followers managed to take control of many nations within a year's time, and controlled half of the Earth's population; I, myself, ruler of one fourth of Earth spanning an entire continent. However, our subjects would not yield to our attempts at creating an ordered society and rebelled. The war that followed lasted for four more years before most of us were defeated.

Our enhanced survival instincts told us that we would not survive for very long, given the turmoil taking place on a war ravaged planet. We, the remaining 'supermen', as they called us, made our way to a ship and escaped the rebels' attacks before the final battle took place to reclaim their freedom. The ship was outfitted with animated suspension units for use in long distance space travel, so we put them to use, knowing that it would take months... perhaps years before we would reach another world that was habitable. It was a great risk; we agreed to take the gamble.

271 years later, I awoke from my hyper-sleep with the help of James Kirk, captain of the Starship Enterprise, the ship that found us drifting in space. My ambition, still giving me the drive to conquer, got the better of me and I and my followers, 72 in all, tried to take control of the starship with the help of one of their own, Lt. Marla MacGivers. Underestimating the crew's determination, our attempt failed and, knowing any attempt at re-educating us in order to adjust to this new time would not work, Captain Kirk presented me with a more attractive alternative.

I and my followers were exiled to this planet, charged with taming its wilderness and primitive surroundings. We would be not unlike those who traveled to new continents on my homeworld, exploring new lands and forging a new way of life centuries ago. Captain Kirk asked me if I were able to tame such a world; I simply asked him if he had ever read Milton. He understood... ***

Of course, thought Kyle; the quote Lucifer had made right before he was cast into the hellish pit of the netherworld, 'It is better to rule in Hell, than to serve in Heaven'.

***...I was the last one to leave the Enterprise with Marla by my side. She was given the choice of remaining on board and facing punishment for assisting me in my failed takeover, or accompanying me to the surface, joining us in exile. She chose to come with me; a superior woman in her own right.

Now, with the Enterprise gone and leaving us to our own trials and challenges... so begins our journey to tame this world and build the empire we were destined to create. ***

***Day 1

Once our ship was set down on the surface and secured within the rocky walls of the ravine where it now sat, we began by taking inventory of our provisions stored within her, plus the many containers of supplies the Enterprise had left for us.

It was a glorious sight, watching our vessel, the Botany Bay, being lowered to the planet's surface by the Enterprise. Her mighty tractor beams guided the sleeper ship down as gently as they could and wedged it firmly into a small valley near our beam down point. The bottom surface of the ship was slightly damaged, but it mattered not; the ship, its contents, and all of its mechanisms would be put to use here, rather than in space.

We moved the cargo containers to the ship and re-boarded her, using her as a temporary shelter until more permanent ones could be constructed. There, we took a count of our supplies. Everything from tools and machine parts to portable power generators and household fixtures was there, including enough food and stored water to sustain all of us for months until this planet's native sustenance could be found.

I was particularly grateful to one of the Enterprise's crewmembers for his contribution. A young officer, Chekov was his name, had given me one of the crew's hand weapons, a phaser. He told me that his captain had ordered him to give it to me before leaving, explaining that it was for protection against any hostile life forms that were here and for whatever use I saw fit to put it to. Though we had already stocked the Botany Bay with a few weapons and ammunition before leaving Earth, and that his gift to me was unnecessary, I told him that he and his captain were honorable men, and I thanked him most generously.

The sun in our sky, a beautiful orange globe, was setting and I suggested to the others that we turn in for the night, resting our bodies and minds for the tasks that lay ahead. Marla and I found a quiet spot on board, the ship's bridge, and there we told each other the truth.

Marla had been the one who freed Captain Kirk and allowed him and his crew to retake the Enterprise. She cried as she asked me to forgive her, for she was simply doing her duty to assist her crew and commanding officer. I told her I understood, admiring her loyalty to her friends and fellow comrades, and surprised her by not only forgiving her... but asking the same of her.

Using her to rebel against her fellow crewmen to further my own ambitions was wrong, and I told her so. I had done this many times before, but not to a woman that I had fallen in love with, for that is exactly what had happened. During and after the ordeal on the Enterprise, I had found that I had actually fallen in love with Marla. Her beautiful red hair, her soulful chestnut eyes, her very essence had pierced my heart in a way that no other woman could... and I opened that cold, yielding heart to her and, for the first time in my life, willingly dropped to my knees and begged her to forgive me.

We consummated our love for each other right then and there, and drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, waiting for the new day to come. We couldn't wait for our new adventure to begin. ***

***Day 2

Before we could even start planning for the new settlement to be constructed, I encountered my first problem.

One of my followers took exception to me being the leader of our new home, stating that since we are on a new world, we should have a new leader, namely him. He considered my handling of the whole affair on board the Enterprise proof that I was unable to lead them to prosperity. I couldn't really blame him or any other for feeling unfulfilled, because in a way he made a good point. Nevertheless, I offered him the chance to take over by defeating me in combat, proving who was the stronger. He never got the chance.

Another of my followers, Joachim, was insulted by his remarks and his dare to challenge me and my authority. Without any order or permission from me, he attacked the challenger, calling him a worthless coward, and killed him with his bare hands.

Another one, a woman named Greta, charged towards me. Showing the same dislike for my leadership, she surprised me by attacking Marla instead, blaming her for our exile for she had found out that it was her that had a hand in Kirk's crew defeating them. I started to assist Marla, but discovered she didn't need any; her Starfleet training had enabled her to subdue Greta, despite her enhanced strength. Once she was down with a broken knee, Marla deliberately turned her back on her, considering the matter resolved. But Greta grabbed a rock and lunged at her from behind, the act of a coward. I drew my phaser and fired; Greta disappeared into energy, then nothing. I did the same to the challenger's body, a man named MacPherson, someone I thought I could trust.

Joachim bowed before me and asked forgiveness for overstepping his authority. I told him to rise and face me, not as a loyal subject, but as a true and trusted friend, and made him my second-in-command and mine and Marla's personal bodyguard.

The others, disgruntled or not, pledged their loyalty to me once again, as they did so many years earlier.

I will make sure that their loyalty is not misguided... and rewarded. ***

Kyle carefully perused the entries one by one and found that Khan and his band, though suffering difficulties in their exile, proved to be quite adept in blending in with their world and adapting to their surroundings.

Khan went on to write how his group managed to find edible sustenance by using MacGivers tricorder to analyze the flora and fauna of Ceti Alpha V, one particular animal being especially brutal as it killed one of them on a scouting mission with razor sharp claws, but tasted delicious once roasted.

The following log entries didn't contain anything of too much importance, save those of deciding to use the Botany Bay as an emergency shelter and main storage area, rather than dismantle it to use outside of the ravine for homes, structures, and so forth. And that the engineers among them manage to get the ship's nuclear reactor operating again. Although the output of energy was low, there was power enough for their lights and equipment, delivered by power cables strung from the reactor to the buildings they had erected so far.




Echoes of Hell



One entry caught Kyle's attention.

***Day 97

I have just returned from the fishing area at the beach where Marla and I spent time together, and I was given happy news.

Marla is pregnant.

I had told everyone that, until we get established here, the thought of producing offspring would have to wait, and she wanted to be alone with me to tell me, fearing I might be upset and didn't want the others to judge them unfavorably. She had taken me to our favorite spot on the shores of the ocean not ten miles from our settlement to give me the news.

I was ecstatic to say the least, and thanked all the gods in the universe that were listening that they saw fit to give me an heir. 

I assured her that I was not upset by this, and would tell the others that perhaps now is the time to start increasing our numbers and become the mothers and fathers of a new race.

I will announce it tomorrow. ***

Kyle felt saddened by this.

Not only did Marla not have the chance to fully experience motherhood, her child never got the chance to fully experience life. Since neither accompanied Khan on board the Reliant, nor did he or his crew find anyone left down on Ceti Alpha VI, Kyle naturally assumed that they were dead.

He read further...

***Day 138

Our resident astronomer, Ling, has just finished his telescope. After months of melting and re-melting sand into glass and shaping it into a proper set of lenses, he announced his creation complete. Although we already had images of space stored away in Marla's tricorder, I didn't want to dampen his enthusiasm nor downplay his accomplishment.

He did provide us with insight about our star system, however. According to the records, this system contained six planets orbiting an orange star. Beyond the sixth world was an immense asteroid belt. But beyond that, little was known about the worlds, for they had been newly charted shortly before our arrival.

Through observation, Ling discovered that the two inner planets were little more than large asteroids with stellar orbits no longer than six months. The third looked very similar to Earth's moon Luna, though slightly larger, the fourth being its twin but much smaller. 

What kindled Ling's excitement later on was that the sixth planet was finally coming into view. We could see it, a dim disk with the same coloring that of Mars, just coming over the horizon. Ling calculated that it was slightly farther away from us than Luna was from Earth, but after many hours, the planet seemed to be unmoving, still perched on the horizon line. 

Before turning in for the night, Ling had postulated that the sixth planet was in a slower orbital path to our own by only a fraction and had a slightly longer orbital year. He suspected that it would pace us for a while and be in our skies for quite some time before our world passed it, disappearing from view until next year.***

Sixth planet? A world that looked like Mars? We didn't see any planet that looked like that when we approached the system, Kyle thought. 

Once the Reliant got passed the asteroid belt, it was a clear shot all the way to Ceti Alpha VI; there was no Mars type planet, there or anywhere in the system.

He continued with the journal, hoping it would eventually give him some clue as to what Khan was talking about...

***Day 189

We were treated to a most wonderful display.

Ceti Alpha VI, high in the night sky and, according to Ling's best estimates, its closest approach to us, was bombarded with meteor strikes. Tiny ones to be sure, but it gave us a spectacular light show. Pinpricks of light danced and sparkled on its surface for about half an hour before waning, leaving dull orange dots glowing in the aftermath. 

A spectacular sight...***

A meteor storm... could that be the answer?

Kyle continued... and was sickened by the next entry that proved to confirm his suspicions.

***Day 194 (delayed entry)

The reason there is a gap in my entries is because we were busy picking up the pieces after the disaster.

After the meteor storm, I was awakened by Joachim. He told me to come outside immediately. When I got outside my quarters, I was stunned.

Ceti Alpha VI was no longer in the sky.

Instead, there was an expanding haze of gas, dust, fire and debris. Ling was outside with his telescope and told me that he had seen what had happened... right before he lost sight in one of his eyes.

The planet had exploded, the blast happening on the unseen side of the world, its remains heading straight for us. The bright flash was instantly focused through Ling's telescope and must have burned his retina and optical nerve.

I ordered everyone to the Botany Bay, glad that I had the foresight to keep it intact just in case of an emergency. This definitely qualified as one, for right before I entered the ship I saw a strange shape in the sky. It looked almost like a wave.

Then the ground trembled beneath us, as if the whole planet was shaking itself apart. Marla was the last one that made it to the ship, half carrying someone injured by rocks and dirt being thrown around outside. The wave grew closer and I could see planetary debris rolling around inside it. The wave hit our world, knocking us to the decks.

The last thing I saw before closing the main hatch was three or four of my people trying to reach the ship, struggling against the tidal forces being inflicted upon Ceti Alpha V. Then they disappeared, swallowed up by the raging storm sweeping across the lands.

I'm tired now. I'll come back to this later. ***

"Oh, my God." That was all Kyle could say.

The explanation was plainly there in the writing.

Khan and his people didn't leave Ceti Alpha V... the planet they found him and the others on, the planet he and the crew of the Reliant was marooned on... was Ceti Alpha V.

To be precise, he thought... what was left of it.

The beautiful greens and browns of the continents, the deep blues of the oceans, and the swirling wisps of white cloud cover... all of it gone, replaced with the sickening dull yellows and putrid tans of the blowing sands. 

No wonder we didn't notice a Mars-like planet; it was no longer there to be noticed.

The debris, most of it he guessed, must have been swept into the vast asteroid belt and, after years of drifting, was swallowed up by it. Anyone visiting this system wouldn't have known that the planetary debris had blended in with its system's asteroid belt, not leaving the slightest clue that there used to be a world in orbit nearby. And entering the system, no one would suspect that the next planet in orbit wasn't marking the edge of the planetary system, but was now.

"So... that was it," Kyle mumbled to himself.

He decided to check on Mr. Beech later to make sure he was all right. Being the Reliant's science officer, Commander Beech would no doubt come to the same conclusions about Ceti Alpha V, with or without conformation from Khan's journal, and if he had already, he was more than likely blaming himself for letting this get by him two days ago. Kyle would check in on him later and assure him that, if he was chiding himself for this understandable mistake, he might as well chide everyone on the bridge crew for making the same error and that it wasn't his fault.

Kyle reluctantly went back to the writing...

***Day 196

I have been busy for the past two days scouting the area around our settlement... or rather what's left of it. I will continue where I left off earlier.

Once everyone left alive was sealed inside the Botany Bay, we rode out the wave storm as best we could. Our vessel was old, but still sturdy enough to withstand the forces outside trying to destroy it. We would be safe. Making a head count, I found that we had lost eight people when the wave hit, among them Rodriguez, Octoro... and Ling.

After a full day of listening to the terrible winds that whipped around us, we ventured outside to assess the damage.

Most everything around us was burned away; trees, shrubs, grass, and most of the dwellings we had constructed. All the equipment left outside of the ship was either melted to the ground or was blown away by the force of the wave.

We thought sure we would see huge impact craters as a result of the debris hurling our way, but there was only one or two no more than three hundred meters across near us. Ada was working closely with Ling with his observations and learning about astronomy, and it was she that came up with an idea about what had happened... and what didn't happen.

Ada theorized that Ceti Alpha VI exploded, due to either a collision with a larger object than the ones we observed hitting the planet weeks ago or the ones that hit earlier did irreparable damage to the surface, causing a chain reaction to its core.

As to why we weren't directly affected worse than we were, she could only guess that either the system's asteroid belt managed to take hold of most of the planetary debris with its gravitational forces and steer it away from us, or the wave that hit us was indeed just that: a wave, a shockwave that managed to push this planet out of the way of the debris or at least most of it. Or, she supposed, perhaps a combination of both.

Regardless, judging from the amount of damage to our world... we have much work to do...***

***Day 197

It is starting to get warmer. Unusual, for though the planet's seasons are mild and this time of year (so I was told by Marla's tricorder records) is suppose to be cool. Is it because of what happened on the surface, the lands still burning and retaining heat, or is it something else?

I will ask Ada to look into it as best she can...***

***Day 198

It is still getting hotter. 

Tomorrow, we will go to the ocean and assess the damage there. Everything that could be salvaged from outside has been taken inside the Botany Bay. I fear this world is not finished with us... not yet. *** 

***Day 200

Half of our ocean is gone, evaporated by the heat of the shockwave. The temperature is continuing to climb and is not helping.

I have decided to seal the Botany Bay with everyone inside for the duration of this oppressive heat wave. The atmospheric conditioners on board will keep everything and everyone cool for now. We are now making makeshift quarters out of parts of the animation containers on board.

My followers are praising me for my foresight in keeping the ship intact, rather than having it dismantled for its parts and material.

Was it foresight on my part, or just plain dumb luck? I wish I knew. ***

***Day 202

According to instruments, the temperature outside has stopped rising. It is now 95 degrees Fahrenheit and seemed to be holding. 

I left the ship to check on conditions outside and saw the landscape had changed. It looked like a desert, with no vegetation or animals that could be seen and the ground baked and cracking.

In the distance, I saw a haze of some sort. At first I thought it was mist or vapor coming off the evaporating ocean, but the haze was an ugly color. A mixture of tan and ocher, much like the ground was now. I have no idea what it is, but one thing is sure: it was heading right for us. ***

***Day 209

For a week now, the wind has been howling against the hull, but seems to have died down a bit. We will check outside tomorrow. *** 

***Day 210

The area that looked like a desert has now become one.

The wind has kicked up sandstorms all around us and is starting to bury the Botany Bay like an ancient tomb of Egypt. 

Ada has finally come to the conclusion that the orbit of Ceti Alpha V has been shifted and moved slightly closer to the sun, causing a dramatic change in our climate. She suspects that the rest of our world is in the same condition as our region; she even doubts that there are any oceans left on the surface. If there is any water left on Ceti Alpha V, it would most likely be underground.

I pray that she is right. The moisture extractors and matter re-sequencers are still working to make water and foodstuffs, but for how long? Eventually, the power to operate them will run out, or their parts will wear out due to constant use.

We have enough water stored away for a few years, and I have ordered extra water made to be stored while the re-sequencers are still functioning. But more must be made... or found, and soon. ***

***Day 213

The phaser Chekov gave me was instrumental in finding water, and more. Since Ada theorized that any water left on our world would be underground, that's where we would search first.

We went to the very bottom of the Botany Bay and I cut away a section of the hull with the phaser. When we lifted it, we were ecstatic to see vegetation, untouched by the sand. The ship must have protected the bottom of the ravine it was sitting in and spared any life under her from the shock wave.

Even more exciting was when we found water. I figured that since there was still plant life thriving, there must be water keeping it alive. After cutting away more sections of the hull and revealing more greenery, I chose an area at the end of our new opening and started digging through the soil, vaporizing it with my phaser. After about five minutes, we saw reflections at the bottom of the hole. 

We lowered a container down with cable (about fifteen feet) and heard a splash. We brought it back up and, sure enough, we were rewarded with a container filled with water. Checking it with Marla's tricorder, we found no pollutants in it; the water was safe to use. The news spread through the ship like lightning.

I rushed up to the bridge, our quarters, and told Marla the good news, letting her drink from the cup of water I brought from our new well. She thanked me by throwing it up; the morning sickness, I assumed. I simply laughed in delight and hugged her, telling her that everything was going to be all right.

I ordered a well to be built and some volunteered to start a garden with the remaining plant seeds we have stored away. Finally, we have a chance.

I kissed the phaser and bless Ensign Chekov, hoping the gods favored him in the future. ***

So, that's how they managed to stay alive, Kyle thought. Luck, indeed. He continued...

***Day 262 (delayed entry)

It seems Ceit Alpha V isn't done trying to defeat us, after all.

Because of the climate change, now only desert dwelling animals are able to survive, and those types are few and far between. We had the chance to meet one of them up close today.

It's about six inches in length, with a hard carapace consisting of folds along its back. It has twelve legs, two pincer-like mandibles at its head, and has small, yellowish eyes that it keeps closed, possibly due to it being light sensitive since it seems happy underground. It is vicious, but its offspring is far more dangerous.

One of my people, Nicholas, was tending to the garden when he suddenly shrieked in pain, holding the side of his head. We all rushed down, and found him just standing in the middle of the vegetables with a trickle of blood running down the side of his head. 

I told him to approach me and explain what had happened; he did, very robot-like and told me that something had crawled into his ear, almost matter-of-factly. He pointed to the area where he was lying down in the garden to shore up the edge of the hull where sand started to seep in. 

I saw the creature trying to burrow back into the sand and I grabbed it. It tried to bite me as I showed it to him and asked if this was what attacked him. He blandly shook his head and pointed to the folds on its back. I peered inside and saw eel-like little versions of the creature, its offspring.

Ella, one of our remaining medics, looked into his ear and saw nothing except a slime trail coating his ear canal. Marla ran her tricorder over him and found that the eel had burrowed through his eardrum and had wrapped itself around the spinal cord connection just under the cerebral cortex. 

For days, he just listlessly followed commands no matter how ridiculous they sounded. The medics determined that a side effect of the eel's intrusion was to render its victim extremely susceptible to hypnotic suggestion.

I told him to rest and ordered my people to use caution when tending the garden or venturing outside. 

***Day 267

Nicholas is dead.

He was screaming insanely when we found him in his quarters. After a few minutes, he simply collapsed and died. We bagged his body and placed it in a separate store room. ***

***Day 282

Five more have become hosts for these eels.

More of them are starting to burrow their way into the ship, looking for suitable hosts for their young. They are quite tenacious; the little ones hide under the leaves of our garden plants and wait for someone to brush up against them, cling to their clothes, and slowly crawl up to their victims' heads, sneaking through their hair until they reach the ear.

I may have to close off our garden until we can combat these invaders. ***

***Day 286

We heard a scratching sound coming from the store room where Nicholas's body was put. I put away the irrational thought that it was somehow Nicholas or one of the others we placed in there, still alive. I opened the store room and saw a nightmare.

The eel that had killed Nicholas had grown to adulthood and chewed its way out of his head and out of the body bag. I crushed it under my boot when it scurried passed me.

I told Joachim to bring me my phaser so I could vaporize the remaining bodies inside. ***

***Day 308

I've had to destroy eleven more of my people infected by the eels.

This must stop.

I have ordered the remainder of our garden food picked and stored away, and told everyone to fill as many empty containers with water as was available. We've sealed off the entire compartment, cutting ourselves off from our food and water source.

Marla is terrified; I have to admit that I am concerned, myself. ***

***Day 311 (delayed entry)

I have just destroyed the body of my beloved wife, Marla... ***

Oh, my God; not her! Not like that!

Kyle started to cry at the thought of the beautiful lieutenant being ravaged by one of those creatures... and the thought of Khan having to dispose of her body. And the child, their unborn child...

He forced himself to read on...

*** ...One of the eels managed to hide itself under a leaf of the flower plant Marla kept in our quarters, the one she was using as a model for one of her paintings. It must have taken all night for the eel to crawl off the plant, down the table, and make its way onto our bed. I found Marla in a trance with dried blood on her face the next morning.

Not wanting her to go through the agony of madness in the end, I told her to rest, and while she was asleep, I aimed the phaser at her and fired, vaporizing her... and our child.

Everyone came running up when they heard me howl in rage, and tearfully mourned with me when I told them what had happened.

I cried myself to sleep that night.

I told the others the next day that, while we sleep, we are to use filter masks to breathe through in case the eels can get inside a body other than using an ear, and to use earplugs whenever necessary. ***

***Day 313

Joachim had come up with a plan to get water from our well. 

Wearing protective suits, he and two others would cut a hole through the deck and crawl down into the sealed off garden section. There they would wrap and secure panels around the well, extending up to the deck above. The eels were everywhere down there, but they didn't seem to be very efficient climbers when it came to the walls of the hull; their clawed legs couldn't grip the smooth metal. 

I told Joachim that he and the others didn't have to do this and that we could find another way, but they were determined to see the job done... even after they were affected, for the eels had managed to eat their way through the suits and let loose their young.




Echoes of Hell



Eight hours later, the new well was finished and it worked, hinging two plates of mesh around the opening to prevent any eel that somehow managed to get to the top from getting inside. Our chance to survive had been reclaimed.

Joachim and the other two men stood before me, waiting for orders. I simply rewarded their loyalty to me and our people by giving them a quick death rather than face agonizing madness in the end.

I phasered the first one who didn't even make a move to defend himself; he was that far gone, mind wise. The second slowly backed away from me and started to grimace in pain as I vaporized him. So did Joachim, but just as I raised the phaser, he shouted for me to wait. He dropped to his knees, then fell back screaming in pain and clutching his ear. Curious, I waited to find out why, because the madness didn't grip the victims this soon after eel penetration.

I saw moment in Joachim's hair and discovered that the eel had left his body through his ear. I crushed it with my boot and Ella, using Marla's tricorder, said that Joachim was alive but his hearing in the affected ear was damaged.

I carried him to my quarters and laid him down on my bed, vowing to take care of him until he had fully recovered. He is sleeping now; I will tell him what happened tomorrow. ***

***Day 314

I wanted to reward Joachim for his bravery and loyalty. Anything he wanted, he was to get. All he said was "Don't make me go back down into the garden section again." We both laughed and I hugged him as if he were my own son; no father could be more proud of him than I was.

That was the first good feeling I had since Marla died, but it didn't last long. Ella studied the tricorder readings on Joachim and told me why the eel had left his body. Since the eel controlled the host's brain, more or less, it was somehow connected to the host's thoughts. Joachim thought I was going to kill him and, readings those thoughts, the eel's self-preservation instincts kicked in and it fled the body before the host could be killed. And that wasn't it all.

Going over Ling's data, Ella and Ada both came to the same conclusion: a meteor strike wasn't the cause of Ceti Alpha VI's destruction, for there were no asteroids large enough in the system that could have caused it, according to records. Rather, it was some type of geological and planetary core instability that caused the planet to explode, and the resulting shockwave laid waste to our world.

I shut myself in my quarters afterwards, contemplating using the phaser on myself.

I could have spared the others if I had known. They would be alive right now.

And Marla... all I had to do was scared the creature out of her. She would be deafened slightly, but she would still be alive... and our child. I killed them for nothing. Nothing!

I actually put the emitter of the phaser in my mouth and was ready to squeeze the trigger so I could join my wife and child.

But something stopped me.

I stared at the phaser, long and hard, for I don't know how long, and thought of what it represented. 

The Federation... Starfleet... the Enterprise...

Damn them! Damn them all for doing this to us! 

Spock... he found out who I really was and assisted Kirk in getting me out in the open, vulnerable to their questioning.

McCoy... he objected to Kirk dropping the charges against me; he wanted me sent away to a prison somewhere to rot.

Scott, Uhura, even Chekov. Granted, I was grateful for the phaser he gave me, but he said he was just following orders, like the rest of them. All of them, concerned over their captain, following his orders! His orders!

Kirk! 

It was his fault! He's the one who sent us here, just to get rid of us. Just to wash his hands of us, without bothering to check and make sure we would be safe here. All he had to do was to take us to another world, one where the worlds around it were safe from disasters such as the one that befell Ceti Alpha VI... ***

Was that true?

Kyle couldn't help wondering if they could have spared Khan and his followers the anguish of Ceti Alpha V by doing a more thorough scan of the system and its planets. If Captain Kirk had known about Ceti Alpha VI's instability, Kyle was certain he never would've left Khan on her sister planet, knowing the potential danger.

Did Kirk leave him there, simply to get rid of him and forget about him just as quickly? Kyle refused to believe that.

He continued with the journal...

***Day 327

Joachim is feeling his normal self again. The effects of the eel have diminished, and he is eager to return to duty. I granted him permission to do so. ***

Kyle flipped through the next few pages, noting that most of the entries were about mundane activities. He simply skipped over the routine entries and concentrated on the more prevalent ones. But a couple of them caught his attention, and he read them more thoroughly...

***Day 693

We needed a staging area to venture outside.

The eels we were cooking to extend our food supply were becoming difficult to find and catch down in the garden hold. They were getting smart and decided to leave the compartment once they saw their numbers depleting. We would have to hunt for them outside.

The idea to use the cargo containers came to me. Since they were empty anyway, we might as well use them for something. I told the others that we would line them up on top of the Botany Bay, connecting both ends to the ship and use them to enter and exit the ship from now on.

I heard a couple of them grumbling something about me being mad and that this was a crazy idea. I made them go out and do the outside welding. They weren't in any danger; this time of year, the winds were not that ferocious. We cut a hole into the conning tower, just below my quarters, and welded a container into place. I stored some of my things into the next one, making this my personal area... ***

I didn't even think to look beyond the living area, thought Kyle; there was another way into the ship. And the surface still had calm seasons during its year, if you could call what the weather was like 'seasons'...

*** ...the one after that was where the cannibalized airlock door would go. Once all the containers were connected together, we cut a hole into the top of the hull and, using hull material from the inside of the ship, connected our staging area to the ship with a ramp.

Now we were ready to go hunt for game. ***

***Day 757

The desert dwelling animals, other than our crawling friends, seem to have perished. There are no signs of any other animals around us, which is just as well; our ammunition is exhausted anyway, so our weapons are now useless. 

It seems that the Ceti eels are the only remaining life forms on this planet... well, the only remaining indigenous life forms. ***

***Day 801

One of our matter re-sequencers has been damaged; an eel managed to crawl inside it and fry itself against the power connections inside, frying some of the components with it. Damn those things. Damn you, Kirk! ***

***Day 841

Our moister extractors are having difficulty getting moisture from the air. I fear they won't last much longer. I'm hopeful that our well will not go dry any time soon. ***

***Day 902

We lost four people today, one of the Ella. 

While on a hunt, a sudden sand squall appeared and, in an attempt to take cover, one of them was caught in a depression in the dune and sucked down as if he were sinking in quicksand. He pulled three others down with him, all connected to each other by safety cables. I managed to cut mine loose and dove after Ella. I held on as long as I could, but the sand was too powerful. 

Damn him! How could he have left us here to die? ***

***Day 1137

Two of my followers are dead.

They were lovers and, performing some type of suicide pact, ended their lives, not able to take the strain. So much the better; I cannot offer to have those around me that would give up so easily.

I didn't even cremate the bodies with the phaser; I refused to acknowledge their cowardice with an honorable funeral, nor would I waste the energy on them. We threw their bodies to the sand. ***

***Day 1211

One of my people noticed something about me. 

Julia, the only remaining medical personnel among, wanted to run a scan of me and check on my health. She said that I looked fatigued, more so than usual. I assured her that I was fine but, when she pointed out the graying in my hair, I started to worry. My genetic engineering would allow me to live well beyond the age of a normal human's life span, and wouldn't start the signs of aging to appear well into my nineties.

But there it was: gray hair. Not a lot; just some flecks near my temples, but it was there. I attributed it to the strain of maintaining order and control of our settlement, and trying to keep everyone disciplined and alive.

How dare he put me through this kind of Hell. ***

***Day 1282

Joachim surprised me with a gift today.

Using leftover pieces of the ship that were no longer viable for use, he had constructed a chess game for me. Knowing how much I love the game, he wanted to keep our minds active while we weren't going about our regular duties. He said that he had made three more sets for the others to use as well, assuring me that none of the parts used for the games would be needed or missed.

I hugged him and thanked him for his generous gift. I took it to my private area in the containers up top where we spent hours playing, pitting our engineered intellects against one another. He even defeated me a few times. ***

***Day 1417 (delayed entry)

Four more of my people are gone.

Three of them attempted a coup against me, but Joachim and the others thwarted them. Ada was killed trying to defend me; a superior woman and a loyal follower. Julia said that my wound would heal in a few days.

Two of the rebels were killed and thrown to the sands, and the remaining one was banished from the settlement. He disappeared into the blowing haze of the sand; we never saw him again. ***

***Day 1529

By my calculations, we are entering our fifth year on this world. As best as I can determine, our year lasts for 381 days. My intellect seems to be faltering a bit; I should be able to be more precise than this. And I noticed some more gray in my hair. What's wrong with me? ***

***Day 1598

I have noticed that I am not the only one whose appearance is changing. Joachim's hair, as well as some of the others, is turning a lighter shade of brown. No gray yet, though I have seen two or three others with small tinges running through their bangs. ***

***Day 2088

One of my engineers is dead.

He became ill a few months ago. Nothing serious at first, but it grew steadily worse over time. His face looked gaunt and pale, and his hair was almost completely white when he died. Since the tricorder no longer worked, there was no way to ascertain the cause of his death. ***

***Day 2104

We have only one moisture extractor functioning now, and the last matter re-sequencer is starting to give out. I have ordered the use of these devices restricted. We have enough water and food stored away, from both the machines and the well and the eels. But, so as not to push the machines beyond their limit, they will be used only in emergencies.

They should have lasted longer than this, though. ***

***Day 2159

The fusion glowballs are starting to give out. That shouldn't be possible; their tiny reactors inside should be working for at least another twenty years.

Another member of the engineering team is ill. His hair is turning white, and now all of us are showing signs of change.

What is happening to us? ***

***Day 2203

Two more have died from this strange illness. We have yet to find the cause. ***

***Day 2249 (delayed entry)

We have discovered the cause of the illness, and the reason our devices are loosing their ability to function. Our own power source is the culprit.

I was awakened by the other engineers, shouting that we must get off the ship. They said that our reactor, used to power the Botany Bay while in space and now used to power our settlement, was the reason we were all changing and becoming sick.

It wasn't the reactor itself, but rather the waste product produced from the expelled fuel rods. The shielding around the reactor was sound, but the shielding around the waste containment area had become weak due to excessive use. The waste was supposed to be jettisoned into space once capacity had been reached, and the toxic radiation level that was building up inside over time was not only affecting the mechanics of the devices we had been using, it was affecting our genetic make-up as well. That's why everyone's appearance was being altered. It also explained why there were no more eels in the garden area; they left to escape the radiation as well.

We shut down the reactor and sealed the entire compartment off. I welded the plates in place myself with the phaser. We were fortunate to have finished the job in time, for when the last plate was welded in place, the phaser died, drained of energy. *** 

***Day 2259

The last of our radiation treatment drugs are gone but everyone has recovered, the treatment allowing our genetically engineered cells to heal themselves and restore our health. With the exception of the three remaining engineers who were too far gone for successful treatment. 

We brought as much provisions as we could carry up to the containers on top, enough to last for months if necessary. Again, was it foresight to store our edible supplies in the nose of the ship, far away from the reactor... or was it luck? My dulled thinking couldn't answer that right now.

I cursed myself for not having foreseen this disaster. Then I realized that the radiation altered my thought process, not allowing me to see this event coming, so the blame was not mine. 

I know who's to blame for this and, if I ever see him again, I will kill him for this insult he has forced me and my people to endure. ***

***Day 2291

I have managed to get the crude Geiger counter I assembled working, to a degree. The radiation levels were still present but, because of the shielding we erected weeks ago, were starting to fade. Soon it would be safe enough to go back into the ship, even for only a limited time. Now that our engineered bodies were healed, our cells would be strong enough to repel any trace amount of radiation left behind. ***

***Day 2335

The radiation levels were low enough to venture safely into the ship now. I told everyone not to go passed a certain point in the interior, just in case; they agreed. Only half of our glowballs are functioning, and those are at half power; at least something is still working. 

Joachim said he has just finished putting a communications module from our ship back together and wanted to test it, using the power left in one of the glowballs. I didn't have to heart to tell him that the unit wouldn't produce a signal strong enough to get through the cloud cover, but gave him permission to try. I was humoring him, of course, just like I have been these past months while he worked on the unit, knowing it was a useless effort. But it was a way for him to keep his mind focused and my people's morale up, so I indulged him. 

I found a visitor in my quarters; two in fact. Ceti eels had somehow found their way into the ship again. I was going to kill them, but for some reason stopped myself. They were simply trying to survive, just as we were; I admired them for that. 

I placed them in a terrarium that Marla had made to house a few of the tiny lizards that used to inhabit the marsh areas near the ocean. She said they reminded her of the geckos that lived near her home on Earth. I miss her terribly, and I will avenge her death upon the one who caused it. If he had not banished us here, she would still be alive... they would still be alive!

As for my new pets... who knows; they may come in handy one day. My only regret is that I will probably not be able to use the young eels on the one person I'd like. It would please me to see him begging for his life and letting him die an agonizing death. ***

Terrarium?

Kyle realized that the cage was what was sitting on the table in the container, living area.

Oh God, he thought, that's how he was able to control Captain Terrell and Commander Chekov, and the rest of the security and engineering crews that were helping him. He brought the eels with him when he boarded the Reliant and used them on the crew!

Kyle slammed the journal shut, not wanting to read any more. He was both disgusted and full of sorrow at the same time. The terrible ordeals they had to endure, the horrid creatures that plagued them every day and night, the horrible things they were forced to do in order to stay alive, and the things that had happened as a result of the madness that seeped into the minds of some. 

Still, he had to know how it ended. His duty and responsibility as a Starfleet officer made him summon the courage to go back to the journal again, giving that bravery to his lost captain and his fellow crewmen that perished on Ceti Alpha V and in the destruction of the Reliant. He owed them that much, the courage to finish what he had started.

Kyle opened the journal to the last page and read the final entry, the ones before it a mixture of ramblings and gibberish...

***Day 5727

He keeps coming back in my dreams, laughing at me. No matter what I do to him, the corpse keeps laughing. I keep pressing the useless phaser against my head and squeezing the trigger, but Kirk will not go away.

***Day 5735

The last of the children have died; six in all.

The radiation we were exposed to years ago altered our reproductive systems pass the point of self-healing, even with treatment and our engineered genes. The children were born handicapped and severely brain damaged.

The blood of their deaths is on your hands as well, Kirk!

***Day 5741

This will be my final entry.

We have visitors from a starship that has arrived in orbit, one of whom I remember quite well. I never thought I would ever see his face again.

I and the remaining 21 members of my cadre will transport up to the U.S.S. Reliant shortly, courtesy of Captain Clark Terrell and his first officer, Pavel Chekov... the very same man whose face was the last one I saw before being stranded here on this sand heap of a world. My revenge upon him will be mild compared to the rage I plan to unleash upon my real adversary.

I will bring the eels with me. Alone, we cannot hope to operate the starship with any efficiency but, controlled with the mind crippling slugs, the crew will help us willingly, as Terrell and Chekov are now. I will decide who stays with the ship once I am aboard; the others, I will leave here.

Captain Terrell told me the reason for their visit: to search for a test site for an experiment. This intrigued me; to make a living world from a dead one was amazing. I will use this device to create a proper world for us to rebuild our empire.

But, first things first; I must find Admiral Kirk. Admiral... he is rewarded for his deed, while we are left to die. I will make sure his reward turns bitter to the taste. I will have him on his knees before me, begging for his life. I will enjoy taking it from him, by bringing him here to Ceti Alpha V and leaving him here as he left me... as he left her, buried alive. I hope his death will take a long time, for I wish to hurt him and continue hurting him for as long as it takes him to die. 

I shall leave this record here for others to find, along with the phaser, as a testimonial to our ordeal... and to our ultimate destiny.

Can you sense it, Kirk? Can you hear me?

I am coming for you! ***

* * *




Echoes of Hell



Kyle checked his tricorder one last time before heading out of his guest quarters. He wanted to be absolutely sure than the recording was intact.

Making his way down the dim corridors during the ship's 'night', Kyle ran it over and over in his mind, wondering if this was the right thing to do.

After the rescued crewmen were medically sound and properly feed, cleaned up, and rested, debriefing would commence the following morning. Kyle scanned the journal and recorded every last word, adding it to the record of their visit to Khan's settlement. He would report that there wasn't enough time to record everything or gather anything of importance there and that the levels of radiation, though low, still presented a hazard. He would recommend that no one return to the settlement for at least a few decades or so until conditions were safer.

As for the journal, Kyle didn't like what he was planning to do with it, but knew it was for the best.

And if anyone disapproved, what are they going to do, fire me? 

Kyle knew it would be decades before anyone found out the truth; by that time, he would be long since retired from Starfleet, virtually immune to any disciplinary action.

It has to be done, for Marla's sake at least.

The transporter room he snuck into was dark and devoid of personnel, shut down for the 'night'. Placing the journal on one of the transport pads, Kyle quietly activated the controls, making sure to cut off any alarm that might warn the bridge or security of its power use. Being a transporter chief for years before his reassignment to the Reliant, it wasn't difficult.

Kyle set the angle of beaming to 'wide dispersion', and the pad under the journal glowed amber. With a tear in his eye, he whispered, "For you, Marla", and activated the controls, sending the journal and all the hate it represented fading into the quantum mist of the transporter beam. Its reforming particles spread out and scattered into space along the Merrimac's starboard side, defusing and disappearing forever. 

Shutting down the console, Kyle quietly left the transporter room and went back to his quarters.



Echoes of Love



When Alyce told me over Skype that she was getting married, it took everything inside me not to say "No!"

I told her I was happy for her and I wished her the best of luck, but deep inside I was angry at myself. It could have been me. It should have been me.

I used to tell Alyce she was the hottest woman on two continents. She came to New York from Perth in 2005, filled with aspirations to be the next Nicole Kidman or Cate Blanchett. She had Kidman's beauty and Blanchett's talent: long, gorgeous red hair, creamy white skin, blue eyes, soft lips, an upturned nose and the world's sweetest smile. She was also a natural talent and one of the best actresses I had ever worked with.

She loved the world. She seemed to be an expert on everything—politics, science, art, film and music. Especially music. We would get into long arguments, sometimes lasting hours, over which Prince album was the best (she favored "Sign O' the Times," while I preferred "Purple Rain"). She was brilliant, fiercely independent, and feared absolutely nothing.

She hated ignorance, arrogance, loud people and shortsighted casting directors—something we absolutely had in common. We often shared horror stories about the number of times we had been offered stereotypical roles: it seemed that casting directors couldn't see me playing anything other than a pimp or a gangster, while Alyce was forever being called upon to play bitchy English princesses. "We can do so much more," she lamented, and we often talked about writing our own scripts and making our own films.

Gradually, the roles started becoming more diverse, and our careers began to take off. Alyce never became the next Nicole Kidman, just as I never really fulfilled my goal of becoming the next Denzel Washington, but we did pretty well for ourselves, consistently working in plays, TV shows and films.

As busy as we both were, we were always able to find enough time to spend with each other: walking in Central Park, enjoying a relaxing cup of coffee on Sunday morning, watching concerts at the Garden. We tried to cherish every moment—and there were so many to cherish.

And when we made love...oh my God. It's almost indescribable how good she was. Nothing was off limits—especially anal. I thought she'd be reluctant to take my big cock in her asshole, but she had no hesitation about being fucked in the ass. I loved penetrating her, hearing her moan in raw pleasure, and coating her cute asshole with my cum.

We loved it when winter snowstorms would knock the power out, because it would always be a cue to fuck. Something about the lights being off made her freakier, wilder, hotter. She would want to fuck wherever we were when the lights went out—it didn't matter if it was on the couch, in the kitchen, or on the bathroom floor. We would always start out kissing passionately as our clothes came off, and would end up having scorching sex. I loved kissing her delicate white skin, and she loved it when my black cock entered her pussy or asshole. 

Even as I write this now, I'm getting horny thinking about how sultry and sensual she was, how much of a thrill it was to kiss her pale ass, run my fingers through her long ruby-red hair, caress her curves, touch her pink nipples. I loved hearing her cum in her sexy Aussie accent. I loved coming onto her face and tits. I loved everything about her.

I wished it could have lasted, but it didn't. Alyce eventually became homesick for Perth, and wanted to start a family with me; at the time, I wasn't interested in either moving to Australia or becoming a father, so we decided to break up on friendly terms. I thought I could get over her, could find somebody better, but I never did. I love white women, always have and always will—but I've never met a white woman as sweet, as sophisticated, and as straight-up sexy as my Aussie ex-girlfriend. 

I will always regret letting Alyce go. I will always regret passing up the chance to be a husband to this beautiful woman, and to be a father to her children. I'm sure Alyce's husband is a nice guy, but I will always wonder what it would have been like to marry her. 

Alyce taught me so many lessons about life. The greatest lesson she taught me was: never, ever let go of a good thing. It may never come back.



Echoes of the Storm



Tell me what you think; I would like feedback on this story to see if it is worth continuing. Thanks.

I heard the sound of a car door slamming and my daughter's voice raised in anger. The fact that I could hear her over the rolling thunder was a testament to how upset she was. I counted to ten before the door flew open and my teenage daughter stood there in all her sopping glory. Her cornflower hair was plastered to her skull, as was her t-shirt to her chest and it was obvious even from here she hadn't worn a bra out of the house again. I got up without a word and fetched a couple of towels, one for her head one for the rest of her and lastly one for the floor. 

"I take it Dennis and you had another fight?" Her only response was to throw her drenched body against me as her arms went around my neck as she sobbed. She was incoherent for a long time until she lifted her face to mine it was impossible to distinguish her tears from the rain water freely flowing from her head and pooling at her feet. 

"I am so sorry sweetie, but if only you could see what a worthless piece of shit he is." I don't believe I could have chosen the worst words to say just then. Her body became frenetic trying to get away from me.

"Daddy! You don't understand…" it always started with the same words. "I mean you are old and just don't get it." Those were the worst words she could have said my anger rose up to meet hers head on. I mean I love my daughter but she is so thick headed at times. 

"Oh I'm old am I?" She saw her mistake and tried to back peddle but failed miserably.

"It's just…" My eyes narrowed as she continued and saw that her position was hopeless and left the fight before it escalated and soon there came the sound of her bedroom door slamming shut. I sighed walked over and closed the front door and then sunk back down into my chair my eye fixing on the towel where she had stood not a minute before. When did my baby girl become a woman? Granted she was a college freshman but tonight feeling her very adult form pressed against me reminded me of my dead wife and how much I missed her. I never remarried and dated little; it upset my daughter too much. All that sexual energy needed release and I guess it was back to tried and true friend, my hand. I rose to my feet grabbed the towel, made a pit stop in the kitchen for a beer then it was up the stairs to check on her to see if she was okay. I paused before the door and could hear her sobbing still.

"Steph, are you ok?" I got no response so I opened the door and there she lay on her bed her head at the far end her body wrapped in a towel. My mouth hung open and I was grateful she was facing away from me. Her ass, so much like her mother's, was barely covered and I could just make out the lips of her sex. I bent down to collect her wet clothes lying on the floor, as my angle changed I could clearly see her young sex and it looked so appetizing, I immediately chastised myself for such thoughts. But hell six years of celibacy weighs on a guy. I licked my lips and stood up again.

"Honey, I'm sor-" I never even finished.

"Just go away will you?" She didn't even look at me. The rage and something else took over. I snatched the towel from her and that got her attention. 

"Daddy!" She spun around and I got a good eyeful of her well-formed young body. Her body so like her mother's and well I 'll be damned she shaved her pussy. I pointed in mock shock.

"When did you start doing that?" Her eyes looked down at the damning evidence.

"Well…" now it was my time to cut her off.

"You've been fucking that loser?" She rose up indignant and ready to throw down with her old man.

"He is not a loser," and in one motion damned him, she absently as was her habit flicked some hair away from the side of her head and there was the bruise. I lost it I stepped closer and peered at it.

"I'll fucking kill him." I was turning to leave when I felt her hand on my arm.

"Please Daddy it wasn't his fault I made him…" I spun on her and with word and gesture made her fall silent.

"Don't, don't ever say you deserve to be hit. Never ever say that again." I calmed a bit and gently touched the bruise. She threw herself against me once again and it took every ounce of control not to tip her head up and kiss her. She was my daughter after all and deserved better. I held her while she sobbed feeling her firm breasts press against my chest. I pulled her even closer as the emotional wound was lanced. In a voice that barely reached my ears I heard my daughter.

"Daddy?" I felt her hand trace my erection. Now it was my time to be upset.

"I'm so sorry baby, but it has been so long since I've felt a woman next to me." I broke our contact and left her there to deal with her emotions. I had crossed the line and needed space to catch my breath. I opened the back door and let the pouring rain wash away my guilt and pain. What kind of man was I that lusted after his own daughter? But the memory of her touch lingered still as the wind and rain buffeted me uncaring, as my cock grew harder still. I looked at the privacy fence and was grateful for it wooden protection at this moment. I peeled off my clothes and stood there as the elements of the storm manifested and tore at my exposed skin. The lightning was brilliant in its white fury leaving me to see spots at its departure. 

Then she was there standing before me in all her pale glory shouting over the fury of wind and rain. Her eyes moving to my erection as she shouted, "Daddy it's ok, I understand…" she moved closer her nipples hard from the wind's embrace. "…it's my fault not letting you date, please come in we can talk this over." I have no excuse for what happened next but I took a step forward and brought her into my arms kissing her lips fiercely and to my horror she kissed me back. My cock slid under her sex rubbing it as we held each other our hands hungry and exploring. My large hands found her ass and began to massage it as her arms went around my back her nail raking me with a lover's touch. I lifted her up by the waist and in a single ravenous thrust impaled my only child on my massive erection. She cried out but it was drowned out by the cacophony of the wind. I moved her up and down my length fucking her without any thought of tenderness or love. This was an act of primal lust and soon she was crying out in release.

"Oh Daddy I'm coming!" Still I thrust into her but when my arms grew weak I lowered her to the flooded ground and stabbed at her pussy with my cock like a mindless animal. I pulled out and she sensed my need and got onto her knees and I reentered her with a vengeance. I grabbed her hips and pounded in and out until I felt my own orgasm building. I grunted and groaned as I neared my climax, thrusting and violating her pussy time and time again. I felt her body convulse around me once again and that is what threw me over the edge. It is also the last thing I remember before the bolt of lightning struck and I lost consciousness. 

Awakenings: 

I awoke slowly from the depths of slumber; it was like a diver that rises careful to avoid the bends. I groaned as the surface neared and I ached all over. I opened my eyes and found myself in my bed and under the covers. I sat up and rose to my feet, shakily and staggered into the bathroom. My eyes were half open when I lifted the seat and lid to take a much-needed piss. However when I reached for my cock, it wasn't there. That's when I looked down and shortly thereafter came the blood-curdling scream high pitched so like a banshee's. 

"What the fuck is going on?" I screamed and then I heard the heavy footsteps came rushing in to the bathroom and I turned to see myself standing there. I screamed again as my body came over and pulled me into a bear hug trying to comfort me.

"Shhhh it's ok. I will try to explain. We were both struck by lightning last night and somehow our mind's switched bodies." I broke away and looked into the mirror and there Steph's face hovered a look of pain and horror etched there. I touched my face and the dreamlike quality never surfaced, no this was reality. 

"I'm a girl?" I put the toilet's seat down, sat down and let go a comforting stream of piss into the bowl. "This is just too fucked up." 

"Tell me about it, bright side it's Saturday and we have a few days to adjust and possibly fix this." She always had a level head. "Besides think of it like this, you always wondered how the other half lived." I turned to face my 'old' face and saw the look of lust there.

"I take it you've been trying out the new part?" She only nodded and smiled wickedly. I sighed and sat there wondering what we were going to do. "We need to talk after I get dressed and adjusted." The look vanished to be replaced by one of concern. I had to look down to wipe and what a mix of sensations that was. Maybe there was time to enjoy this problem. I rose and walked passed my body and into Steph's room. I rummaged thru her drawers until I found a pair of shorts that looked comfortable and I took out a bra but quickly gave up that notion right away, no wonder she never wore one. I found a shirt that wasn't too feminine and barefoot walked down to the kitchen. Coffee and breakfast was waiting for me. I drank and ate all the while struggling to keep my hands off my tits and pussy. I forgot what teenage hormones were like but was going to enjoy at least part of this. 

"We need to swap lives until we find out to reverse this." My new voice was husky and had a power to it. Yes, I was going to like this on some deeper level. "I'll start." And I began to tell her how I did my job and who to avoid and who wouldn't have a clue. When I was done she nodded and reciprocated, I had to go to school Monday, oh dear god! "Did you do your homework?" I asked and she simply smiled. "It's not my homework anymore, but I will help you with it." I shot her a look but she was correct, I had to get used to her life, for now. "Give me my wallet, I am taking the credit cards, I am still the parent here." She didn't argue apparently she understood the wisdom of this decision. I grabbed a pack of cigarettes and out of habit began to place one in my mouth she stopped me cold.

"I don't smoke." I looked in horror when she tossed them into the trash, "so you don't smoke." I sighed and nodded without argument. "Oh by the way you have a date this afternoon with Dennis. Don't fuck things up between us." I smiled and rose to pick out an outfit. 

"I better get ready then. I'm gonna take a shower, ok?" She nodded and sat there sipping her cup of coffee.

The hot water cascaded over my new body and my hands roamed over the sensitive nipples and clit. Damn but this was nice, I always wondered and now I know. I wet my hair and put shampoo in it, I let my slender fingers work up a good lather when I felt a breeze I turned around quickly getting soap in my eyes. Ouch! I turned back and leaned into the stream to wash out the shampoo when something hard and stiff slid against my pussy. I moaned as Steph grabbed my hips and slid the entire length inside of me. What a deliciously alien sensation to have a cock inside of you. I tried to protest but it felt so good I lost the battle of wills and began pushing back against it. 

"Steph…oh god it feels so good!"

"Not Steph came my old voice, Daddy." She began sliding it in awkwardly in and out but quickly adjusted.

"Ohhhh Daddy fuck my tight little pussy!" The words felt so right and the pleasure flooding my teenage body so intense. The wet slapping sound of our bodies mingled with the falling water to form a chorus of lust. 

"Play with your clit Daughter." She commanded and I obeyed, my fingers explored my bald pussy and found that button of love. I teased it as her cock invaded my fiery depths. "Damn I feel good," I heard her say, "and damn what a fine ass you have." Swish crack! Her hand landed on my ass with a resounding echo in the confines of the shower. The pain and pleasure blended into an alloy of pure lust. 

"Spank me Daddy! I've been so bad." So quickly we slid into our new roles. I was lost in the pleasure of being filled that when I felt her swell inside of me my body reacted and a pressure too big for my body washed over me and I was suddenly screaming incoherently. When the spell left me weak in the knees and shaking I heard Steph say, "So that's what I've been faking all these years." She helped me finish my shower get dressed and put on make up. "You have to look your best for Dennis." I nodded and wondered what would be expected of me. There was a honk outside and I looked over at my daughter.

"Does he really expect me to come racing out to him?" She nodded sadly. "Fuck that he can wait." I took my time and walked gracefully and at a leisurely pace out to the late model camaro. This was going to be interesting little did he know what he was getting himself into. I smiled and slid into the passenger's seat.