by P. S. Power
"Right. Robert. If someone is after Ethyl, they might be going for him, too. He's in the Chinoise right now, on business. We..." She didn't even know how to call him on the telestator, which was basically the same as a cell phone more or less, but made a face.
The trick, in the moment, was to not wait around for everyone to tell her how stupid she was about to be. Considering things in the heat of the moment was almost always a stupid idea anyway. Slamming her eyes closed, she started to summon the energy she was going to need, found where Robert was in the world by feel, and then shifted her information over to him.
It sounded easy, but was one of the hardest things a person could do magically. Teletransport was actually the weakest power that any human could have, over all. Worse, she ended up gasping, which hurt like a mother fucker at the moment. Halfway across the world though, in the empty space right next to Robert Vernor. Near a wooden table that seemed to be made of something very fine and heavy. There was a lot of red and brown in the room.
There was also a bit of shocked muttering, in a different language, which was basically Chinese, though with elements of Japanese and Korean added in, she guessed. Just as she was standing, not letting herself have the luxury of resting too much, she had to jump back. That was because the older man from across the table, who really did look Chinese to her, had stood and pushed a palm at her.
It was magic, of course, and meant to do something to her. What that was, she didn't know, exactly, but since the table didn't move, it was probably some variation of telepathic power, rather than kinetic in nature.
She got out of the way in time however, then doubled over.
"Ow. Sorry! Sorry for interrupting. I'm here to get Mr. Vernor. Emergency."
"Gwen, dear. You've been... Injured." There was a wide eyed look at her state, which several other people mimicked. It was all about the blood on white, she hoped. That, or being barefoot indoors. She'd been asleep though, and hadn't planned to go visiting foreign lands exactly.
Waving her right hand a bit, she kept breathing hard.
"Yeah. A, um, Men in Black, attacked me in my sleep? Three of them. They're dead. Killed themselves, I think. Probably using magic. The thing is, before they died, one of them said he'd been there for Ethyl. Beth was reading him at the same time, so I was thinking that we should get you home in case-" Robert jumped to his feet, and moved to take her arm, then started speaking in rapid Chinoise, or whatever it was called.
After a moment the older man from across the table, which had a woven bamboo top, rather than a cloth, stood. His suit was gray, and rather plain, cut in style she'd never seen before. The collar and cuffs were rounded, but had a slanted oval look to them. The wrists were left bare that way, while the backs were covered.
Speaking in English, or Western, as they probably called it there England not having ever been a thing, the fellow bowed again.
"Forgive my attempt to dissuade you, Ma'am. I was taken off my guard. There is need of transportation?" This was addressed to her first, she noticed, but then to Robert, who nodded.
"My wife may be in danger, Mogan. I need to start back as soon as I may. Forgive me. I don't want this to impact our business dealings, but-"
"I'm sure we can work through that portion, friend. I shall free up the fastest of my airships. We will have you two underway inside an hour." For that world he was promising pretty close to instant performance. In a way that was a huge deal, and given what he'd just said, it would probably cost the fellow a pretty penny to pull off.
Whoever he was, this Mogan guy didn't blink at that part.
Gwen tried to bow, even though it hurt. The man was certainly trying to pull out the stops, or at least claiming he would. For some reason she didn't doubt him in the slightest.
"No time. I'll handle that part. We'll call when we get in?"
No one in the room seemed to understand what she meant, which, she realized the moment she transported herself and Robert back, was probably for the best. If they had, then they very sensibly would have tried to stop her from doing it. No one had ever told her that she couldn't teletransport with someone else, so she'd assumed it was just a thing that she could do.
It was, as it turned out.
The thing there was that she felt, rather suddenly, like she'd just sprinted for a minute flat, gotten to the far end, picked up Robert Vernor, who was easily fifty percent larger than she was, and dashed back as full speed. That wasn't so bad, but she fell to the ground, moaning, after the dry heaves passed. It was not the kind of thing you wanted to do with a stomach wound.
The only good thing was that Robert seemed fine, and they were in the front sitting room when she came out. That meant no one was there to see her attempting to make a mess of the nice hardwood floor.
She waved at the man, gasping on the inhale, and making pained sounds on the way out.
"Casual sitting room... Go." Rather than do that most sensible thing, which would be leaving her with some small sense of dignity, he stood there for a second, and then, rather unfortunately, called for help.
"Winslow! Aid me in the sitting room! Aid, aid!" It was a funny way to say it, even for him.
The floor was nice and clean under her palms, which had started to sweat, more than a little. Her entire body had, she noticed. Exactly as if she'd been doing that sprinting it felt like. Being on all fours like she was, Gwen realized that her hem had come up in the back, and that her panties were showing. Part of her was mortified, but another just couldn't care at the moment.
That was because her brain was on fire. Near the back, on the right, which was where it always seemed to hurt when she pushed too hard magically. It wasn't the first time she'd done that kind of thing, and probably wouldn't be the last. Gwen didn't let the pain or discomfort get to her too much, just putting it all out of mind for a while.
It was a trick that she'd learned as a kid. You couldn't really not feel pain, if it was bad enough, but you didn't have to focus on it, or give it more energy, or power, than it deserved. It was kind of her real power, she knew. The magic was cool, but it was this that had let Gwen get through a lifetime of being her.
That meant she was able, if poorly, to get to her feet, and fix her nightgown, before everyone came in at a run. With weapons out. That way they could kill the heavy breathing for her. It was good thinking, since all they knew was that Mr. Vernor, who was supposed to be across the world, needed help.
Well, Peter and Winslow had them. When she glanced at Heather and Beth, who came in at a slower pace, one on either side of Ethyl, they both had power conduits out, too. Silver ones that were probably lethal if used at close range. She wanted to grin, since they were obviously guarding her mom for her. Not that it was really needed in this case.
Ethyl surged forward anyway.
"Robert! How..." She ran to him and they hugged, which was pretty close to scandalous for people in the Western Kingdom. They were married though, and no one was really going to call them on what they were doing in their own home. She wasn't, at any rate. Then to her it seemed sweet.
Mr. Vernor ratted her out without any hesitation. No compunction either, which was, she thought, a little mean of him.
"Gwen came and got me. From the Chinoise. Teletransport." There was a baffled look to his face, instead of the respect, or possibly annoyance, that should have been there. Like he just didn't have a way to wrap his mind around the idea of that happening. The man had used spheres for that kind of thing before, so it wasn't the basic concept, Gwen didn't think. That was a known thing, if an uncommon and expensive one.
It wasn't until Heather, looking tall and polite, whistled, that Gwen figured out that it was about her being awesome, not Robert being too stupid to understand what had taken place.
Her alternate self shook her head a little.
"That's impressive. I don't think we have anyone that can do that. It's... Well, not impossible, but no one does it. I hear it isn't very pleasant. Enough so that no one that can b
ring themselves to do it twice, even under torture. We..." She looked at the far wall, and then turned to face Beth, her face miserable. "We need to get her into training for it now, before she can learn to avoid the pain of it. I... She was just stabbed though. Part of me wants to just hide this from the others, or even to see if Adam will let it go, but... Her plan?"
It was strange, but it seemed like Heather was getting teary eyed over the whole thing. Even though she, and her family of super soldiers didn't face as bad or worse every day of the week. Gwen nodded along though, since she had been stuck like a pillow. Just lying there, dozing like a moron, while hired killers had her surrounded. It nearly made her feel like she was losing her mind for a moment, since a horrible sense of fear overtook her as she thought about it.
That would be due to the horrible pain that Heather was suggesting. Gwen had been under enough Westmorland training that she knew that doing it again was going to suck. Hard and long, and not in a way that would expand her narrow sense of sexuality. It was just going to be awful.
Damn it. She wanted to take the way out that was being offered. That was what Heather was doing too. Offering to let it go, and not make a big deal of the whole thing. Claim that she was too injured for any kind of training like that. Her head really hurt, and so did her side. She was still gasping, and that didn't make anything in her world any better. Not even a tiny bit. Beth was busily looking down too, and away.
Because Gwen really did have a plan, and part of that was learning to rift. Blow up like a nuclear bomb. Once she could hold that pattern, if she learned enough other skills, she was going to build radiatives for it, so that people wouldn't have to sacrifice their lives in order to kill others. Though, that wasn't really the reason, was it? She was planning to do that because the Westmorlands needed to be free, and treated like equals in this world.
Basically, she was planning to give this world nuclear bombs in trade for their super-soldiers. It was a fair trade, if she could pull it off. Not that the Westmorlands she knew were going to really be helped all that much by what she was doing. No, the effects of it all wouldn't be felt for years, if at all. Learning to rift was just one part of the whole thing.
The truth was, she probably couldn't pull off even learning that much. It was, in the end, why Ferdinand was willing to let her even try. Not because he wanted her to waste her time and effort, but because the man knew that no one as old and new to magic as she was could really do it. So it was safe to let her try.
He had told her, many times, that he still remembered her helping to save their world, and that he'd give her anything she asked for. Anything. Now she got it. He'd been offering to have sex with her. She grinned at the concept, since the man hadn't meant that at all. If he had, he probably would have just said so. He was a king. If he wanted a little poorly performed Gwen lovin, the man could have gotten it. He wasn't exactly old, or hard on the eyes. So it wasn't that.
It occurred to her that he might have been hinting that they could have gotten married. It was about the worst thing she could imagine though. As it was she needed to get on the telestator and have a chat with Christophe, her fiancée. She'd been horrible about doing that, only calling when Beth reminded her to do it, most of the time.
Bethany did a way better job connecting with Martin Cordell, her own sweetie. If the former bigot mouthpiece could be called that. They were engaged, so it probably counted. Eventually they'd probably break up, which would be good. Martin was doing a lot better, but his history as an anti-Westmorland activist had to make for some tense holiday dinners, if they went through with it.
The idea of making an item that could do the work of a rifter wasn't exactly a new one either. At first she'd figured that she was being brilliant, her non-magical upbringing letting her see things that these people had clearly missed. In her studies on the topic, once she had the files on it all, the secret ones that Ferdinand had given her himself, she'd learned that her brilliant plan had been tried for decades. No one else had mastered all the needed skills for it. Mainly because it probably wasn't possible. Not with the way the Westmorlands were trained.
That was, she thought, the initial key. The part of things that Gwen Farris could do that no one else could. Not being a Westmorland, her training was different. It still hurt, but past a certain point she was going to have to cut that part out and just use raw willpower to get things done. She was going to have to be able to put all the parts of the thing together.
Imprinting radiatives was a skill that took years of schooling to really learn to do well all on its own, and Gwen was going to need to master it. So was the basic skill of teletransport.
The thing there was that being powerful at it wasn't going to help her much. It was being able to move in different directions at one time that she had to push for. That was really how rifting worked. If you tried to teletransport in three different directions, at exactly the same time, you'd rip a giant hole in space. Nature took care of the rest. That was the thing she had to master, and knew it. If she had that, Gwen would be able to get on with the rest of it.
The trick there was that the Westmorlands learned to rift as a specific discipline, being trained in a way that only let them do it under orders. She needed to get around that part, somehow. Basically she had to beat the safety net, if it was all going to work.
She sighed, and let her breathing come back to normal. One great thing about this world, there was nothing to do most of the time. That meant she worked out, and studied a lot, day to day. Gwen was in fantastic shape, which would let her do some of what she needed, hopefully.
"Can we get Rhonda and Pete to heal me some more first? Then get... Mona in?"
Gwen hated that old bitch, Mona. Loathed wasn't too harsh a word for how she felt toward the woman. In fact, there were standing orders for the lady to be physically removed from any place that Gwen was going to be, if it could be managed. Not that she had conscious plans to harm the woman, who was tiny, thin, and so wrinkled that it felt almost criminal for her not to be baking cookies. The fact was no one could guarantee that Gwen wasn't going to lash out at her anyway.
Probably in fear. The old witch had hurt her. More than anyone in the entire world ever had. In two worlds, and that included beatings that had nearly killed her, and decades of surgeries.
The thing there was that Mona, as hated as she was by Gwen, was needed. Someone had to get her to be willing to do the work needed, no matter how hard it was, and having someone else do it was just asking for her to hate, and fear, two people that much. Even thinking about her coming made Gwen feel physically ill. Like she was going to foul the floor right then and there.
Pete raised his left hand, about six inches.
"On it, Miss Farris. We should find some place for you to lay down. I can do a basic healing set. Really, Rhonda should go first, so that we make sure everything is going to knit right. This could take a few hours, but we need to hurry, so you don't have enough time to think about it all. Mr. Winslow? Would it be possible to have something brought in to cover that fainting couch? Gwen is a little messy at the moment. Not that it doesn't serve you right. Letting yourself be stabbed like that. What were you thinking?" The kid was being cute, which was a real skill of his. Charm, which in this case was mixed with an honest sense of rebuke.
She got it.
Half the room glared at him. It was mixed as to who did it, too. Robert did, as did Ethyl, and so did Beth, but Winslow and Heather both nodded. Billy wasn't in the room for some reason, or he would have been doing the same thing too, she didn't doubt. Merely being asleep wasn't an excuse as far as they were concerned.
It was one of the things they kind of needed to talk about, some day, Billy and her. His history, and the kind of training he'd had as a boy. Not that she wanted to. It had been a long time ago, and so far away. Then again, it was clearly worked into both of their lives, and in a way that wouldn't be easily escaped. Their crazy mother had set a whole lot of things in motion, and had manag
ed to do it in more than one world. Both of them had paid for it, too, as had their little sister. Heather's little sister, to be more exacting, though no one had spoken about that part either. People hid from their feelings here, as a rule. It was a thing that Gwen liked about the place.
Gwen didn't think the girl had a counterpart in her own reality. Erin Debussey had produced her just to sacrifice to the Elder Gods. It just showed what kind of a psycho she'd been. Really, the only saving grace for the woman there was that she'd tried to steal Gwen, her daughter from a different world, to kill instead. That had been about the best thing the woman had ever done, as far as she knew.
The thought, of the hole in space, the rent in the fabric of the world, that she'd once seen caused her to flash back then. It got her to gasp, which had most of the room staring at her.
Robert reached out, but didn't touch her.
"Dear? You don't have to do this. I'm sure that Adam Westmorland won't force you to-"
She made herself breathe, doing it slowly, as Winslow walked quickly from the nice, and light colored, space. To get that protective coating for the furnishings, no doubt. It was a good plan, since there was no need for her to rub half dried blood all over the place.
"Sorry, flashback. Um, to what happened with Erin. In the cave?" She didn't add more, since both Heather and Beth had the same kind of thing going on. There was no need to cause them to trigger by talking about it. It wasn't just them either. Everyone that had been in that cave could feel it, constantly. It was burned into them, like a scar, it didn't really heal. Not so far. Nothing anyone had done worked either. They just had to live with it, feeling like they were about to die at random times. Fear coming out of the hole that followed them around, leaving them stressed and uncomfortable.
That all of the world's leaders had been there too suddenly left her feeling a lot less than secure. Ferdinand was a great guy, and the Marduk was kind on a level that had left her feeling hard and angry when they'd met. It had been so wrong of Debussey to bring either of them into her plan. They were good people.