He sat down, and allowed himself a moment of contentment as he looked across the smiling faces of his people. Jared had assured him that the meat vats had everything he needed to reverse-engineer the process. He needed a little time, but enough reserves existed to make it. He looked forward to having meat back on the menu.
Between that and the grain, everything would be fine. The grains would not be finding themselves to anyone’s ovens tomorrow, but they would be finding their way to the people soon enough. The rationing would start tomorrow, but would only last a few months. The rationing might even be as little as a few weeks if they were able to continue to bring in food from Outside until the new production was up and running.
A hand shot out from the crowd and pushed a message at him. He took the piece of paper, and found a communiqué from the medical ward at Lentir Sanctuary, where the wounded had been taken. Terrance’s condition had been upgraded to stable, he had made it through the danger. Lucas let out a loud cheer, and the answering by a cheer from the crowd met a questioning look from his companions. He shoved the note at them in answer, and cheered with them when they shouted.
The three of them stumbled out of the party and into the hall, clinging to one another for support and laughing like school children. Torfan spoke through the laughter, “Lucas, I have to hand it to you, you sure do know how to give a speech, drunk or sober! I couldn’t even hear a single slur in your words on that toast!”
Martha clutched her husband’s shoulder to keep from falling over, and to keep from spilling…something …all over the floor as she answered, “That’s because, my dear husband, you are to drunnnk to know a slurring if you heard it!”
They all laughed heartily and moved down the corridor, toward the fifth party of the night. Lucas knew he should feel exhausted. He had barely slept since they returned from the raid over eighteen hours ago, and he didn’t get much sleep on the way back. He didn't feel tired, though, not a bit.
The three of them locked arms and moved forward, and Lucas felt more alive than he had in years.
THE END
EPILOUGE
Jared sat in his darkened lab, the sounds from the parties still ringing in his ears. He would have skinned anyone else alive for walking into his lab drunk, but just couldn’t keep himself away. He felt far too happy to be doing anything else. He brought up the code from that new flyer boy – Korla? – and found himself staring at a section of junk, unused code, the symbols on the screen swimming around, his eyes seeming unable to let them sit in the spot they were at on the screen. As his eyes fought to focus the symbols fell into a sequence which was not the one on the screen, but which made sense if they were…were…his breath caught and the word crashed through his consciousness, banishing the fog of booze from his mind.
Cipher. There was a cipher hidden in here. His mind suddenly clear, he set about trying to root it out...
About the Author
Fearadhach MecRaudri (a nom de plume, obviously. The other name belongs to the boring alter-ego with a day job) is an avid reader and writer of Science Fiction and Fantasy. He enjoys the mental play in the realm of ideas, the endless game of ‘what if’ that is at the core of the genre. His days are spent in one of the stereo-typical jobs expected of geeks, but his evenings are spent playing in the realm of ideas and his weekends seeking adventure.
As a member of a regular writing critique group, he is always working to further his craft, and help others hone theirs. When not writing, he enjoys swimming, reading, gaming, sword fighting, skydiving, skiing, and a host of other adrenalin-pumping activities
Of himself, he says:
Dichotomy defines my existence. I am a geek...who loves to play sports and be outdoors. I'm a deeply 'religious' man, who hates 'religion'. I could not care less what others think of me, yet I care deeply how others feel and enjoy greatly making (or just seeing) others happy. I am incredibly passionate and full of gusto, yet often reserved and cold as ice. I work not to make decisions without considering them, yet I'm the one who is asked when a snap choice of equal options is needed. I am neither extreme: hot nor cold, fire nor ice, yet never (ever) lukewarm. I am neither sun nor moon, neither day nor night. I am dawn, I am dusk; I am the edge. Where the sea meets the shore, where earth meets sky, where the water meets the air...Look at that place between, and you will find me standing there. Where worlds connect...and collide.
Author’s Gratitude
First, I say thank you to you. Yes, you, with your eyes passing over these words. Without your mind to play in, these words in the ether (or on the page) have no life and no purpose. Your observation lets these people out to play, to live, to dance across the eye of the mind. I hope that you have enjoyed their play, and that you will let others know so that they may enjoy this as well. One great way to do this is to leave a rating or (even better) a rating and a review. Doing so brings other people to this book, which gives me more impetus to place more words on the page.
I have many people I wish to thank for helping me bring this, my first published work, to reality. Going in temporal order, I start in third grade, with a one-time writing workshop by a kindly lady whose name I have, alas, forgotten. Her name may be lost to me, but the most important writing advice I ever received still guides me: ‘Talk to the page.’ She was so right. When we speak we do so in a manner that is, mostly, grammatically correct. Thus, most of the issues with grammar fall away, and the markings of grammar become tools for cadence and the music of language.
Then there is Jr. High and Mr. Stoval, the English teacher: The first person to look at the words I threw on the page and see that something enjoyable could come out of the mash. He challenged me to take up the pen, and recommend me to honors English classes, for which I will ever be grateful.
In High School it was Mrs. Lamb, a student teacher who pushed me to reach ever higher. Also, there is Michael: the first person to read part of this story, who asked to make sure I let him know when it finished. I regret I lost track of you, Michael, but I kept this dream, and thank you for your encouragement, it has stuck with me.
Many years later, I met Dal, my brother-in-spirit, with whom I do not talk nearly enough, who introduced me to the small group: North Texas Science Fiction Writers, our wonderful critique circle. I have learned so much from you folks, and am thankful to everyone who ever attended, whether I met you or not, for making it a great ‘place’.
After I finally got this book finished, there is my first true reader: Dawn McKibbin, who I failed horribly due to personal issues, and to whom I owe many an apology. Dawn, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your efforts as my first real editing reader. It is, finally, out in the wild after all these years, I hope a copy of this finds its way into your hands, and that it brings you joy.
Most recently there is Melissa, my final editing reader, who made the last pass and saved all of you who read this from a number of eye-stomping typos.
Wings Page 33