by P. S. Power
The discussion switched after a while to the Girls Camp, which was going to start in three days. Three and a half really, but it was closing in. It was going to be taught by a lot of Westmorlands, but some other people had volunteered to go and see to things themselves as well. Mrs. Vernor, Countess Goebbels and Deborah Winslow. It was the last one that everyone seemed worried about, since she was a famous, or rather infamous, reporter.
One of Katherine's old lovers and formerly of "SimStyl" magazine, which was basically a rag that liked to promote homosexual causes and agendas. That part wasn't what made it a problem, not for Gwen at least. It was just that thousands of cute young girls, some not even underage, might be tempting to the woman.
After all, Katherine wasn't exactly old and Deborah had been willing to sleep with her, hadn't she? Some of the parents might just take exception to that kind of thing. It wouldn't be that big of a problem though, since Gwen had an idea anyway.
"Everyone will go by their first name. No titles or anything either. We're all equals and all that. Kind of a step down for the Countess, and the other nobles that are going to show up, but it will leave the common girls feeling more at ease, I bet." Not that she cared. That part of her was totally broken, from years of television. She kept viewing everyone as being exactly the same as she was here. On the good side the King would back her idea, she bet. So far he hadn't seemed to have had a problem with her ideas in the main. She'd have to check, if anyone had a problem with it.
The next topic, which was started by a concerned and slightly stern looking Ethyl was when Devon Tanburry was going to be leaving. It was both clear that he'd been enough of a pain that she didn't want him around at all, and that she really didn't want to be rude to the man, probably due to his age and the fact that the King himself had sent him along. The man just shook his head a little, his tweed jacket being the same one from the day before. It made sense, because all he'd brought with him was the same leather bag he'd pulled all the instruments from the day before. Gwen knew for a fact he didn't have clothing in there.
"Well, I'm not needed here now at all. The Westmorlands seem to have this in hand. I should have known to check with them as to their protocols before. Here I thought I was being clever and innovative in my cruel disregard for human worth. Turns out there are already masters of it, right under our noses. Poor bastards." He looked over at Manly then, locking eyes.
Strangely enough, instead of taking offense the younger man nodded, not breaking the contact or bothering to look hard or mean over it. Or upset.
"That's about right. So you'll need a trip back home today? Or to Central? I can introduce you to some people that might be... interesting to you."
The man didn't look pleased at the offer, but he nodded.
"Yes, that sounds good. Then I need to get some things from home and come back here for a day or two, so I can talk to the girl. Gwen." He waved, trying not to cut her out of the conversation.
Mrs. Vernor's face went constipated looking even as she tried to fight for a smile. It didn't work at all, and was so obvious that the man chuckled a little after a few seconds. She didn't let that stop her, even as she tried to be polite.
"I see. Well, we certainly have room here, may I inquire as to why however?"
The man shook his head, looking down at the plate in front of him, as if copying Manly from earlier.
"A mistake or two I made a long time ago. The short of it, if I have this right, is that Gwen here, from her other world, might well be my daughter."
Gwen did some quick mental math.
"Thirty -five years ago..."
Devon tilted his head, not seeming happy at all.
"Yes. Thirty-five years ago, Erin and I were married."
Chapter twelve
Half a year before the bombshell news that her parents, the ones that raised her, weren't her biological ones would have stunned her. It had when Billy had told her about it, come to think of it. Now though, she didn't really care that much at all. It either was the truth, or it wasn't. The fact was though, regardless, that she didn't really want to get to know the man down the table from her that much at all. He was unpleasant and more than a little annoying.
Plus, meaning well or not, and she didn't have confidence that he'd really had her best interests at heart at the time, and the man had caused her a lot of pain. Sure, that didn't make him evil, but it was the dentist thing again. It was just too hard to like someone like that. She didn't send him away, of course, since he might have insight into Debussey. Probably not, since thirty-five years was a lifetime more or less, and their marriage had lasted about six months, mainly being so that she could finish her doctorate while they were sleeping together without leading to expulsion from the program for her. As soon as the last term was over she'd gotten an annulment and taken off.
The grumpy old man didn't seem to care about that part though.
"To tell the truth she really wasn't that good in bed. I heard later that she'd taken to women, which made a lot of sense. It was either that or I was just that bad and I really don't think so. After all, I know which hole..." There was a clearing of a throat, coming from Mrs. Vernor, who looked ready to lay into the man, if only with words. To his credit the guy finally shut up and just sat for a few seconds, actually thinking about what he was saying first.
It seemed that elderly people were cut a lot of slack here, but that Tanburry was pushing it more than a little. He really almost seemed to take pleasure in it.
Gwen shrugged and tried to sound calm about the whole thing, instead of like she was pissed.
"We can't know if that follows for my world or not. For that matter we don't know if Debussey had a daughter here at all. She might have simply had Darren. The two worlds are different after all. One of the big things is that the population here is simply a lot smaller. So it might be more correct to think that Doctor Tanburry would be Billy's dad, but might have nothing to do with me at all." She didn't sound upset about it, since it didn't really matter. It might also be that Tanburry's double from her world had been the sperm donor for her too. In fact, if the original Darren Westmorland, an exact version of Billy, had Devon as a dad, that other world version most likely was her bio-father.
It was all too complicated and in the end didn't really matter at all. Except for the part where they needed to get information about Erin from him, if possible.
"Say, did Ferdinand put you up to this because of that then? Your link to Debussey and all that?" Gwen must have sounded funny, since everyone turned to look at her, even though it wasn't that big of a deal. Tanburry grimaced and shook his head.
"No. It's probably down to magical causality. It happens. Don't they have magic where you come from?" He sounded curious about it all, instead of mocking, which was a pleasant change.
That got them talking about her world, which everyone found fascinating, except for her. She wanted to know more about Debussey, but couldn't work the conversation back around for some reason, not without being rude.
Then, suddenly, Manly got up and gestured for Devon to come with him, acting like they were old friends already even as the old fellow grumbled at him about rushing about. They headed toward the front of the house, which left the rest of them sitting at the table, Charles bringing Gwen some coffee of her own.
Mrs. Vernor sighed loudly, a long suffering thing that she accentuated with a pout.
"Well, bothersome. I do wish the man was a little more friendly and gentle. I suppose we can't be too picky, if he's going to turn out to possibly be family. I do wish you'd be more careful picking them though Gwen. William is a fine man, I'm certain, but a bit odd. This Doctor Tanburry is... less than perfectly welcome." There was a cold bitterness under the words, but she softened it with a grin. "Perhaps you could make up for it by getting married to some nice young man of substance? I can start setting up some meetings for you, as soon as your wounds heal?"
Gwen blinked at the sudden change of topic, but Bethany seemed ent
hused by the idea. She waved to Charles, as if indicating him.
"Maybe Winslow here could teach her the finer points? Of dating I mean. I don't think that Gwen has had a lot of experience yet in that vein."
The ribbing reminded her of something, which got her to shrug and take a sip of the black coffee in her cup. People used cream and sweetener here, if they were weak and girlish, but she never bothered. It wasn't perfect brew, but it wasn't that horrible either, always made from whole roasted beans. It was also a little weak, in general, unless you could get the Turkish kind. That was a lot stronger.
"I was thinking that we should have a small get together tomorrow. Have some friends in. James and Ella, Charles and whoever he wants to bring. Maybe Deborah and the Goebbles. You know, the important people." She grinned, as Bethany looked down, not getting for a few seconds that she didn't think she was being invited, which was silly.
"Maybe the constabulary Detectives and their wives, if they have them?"
It was too many people for an impromptu meal, she knew, but instead of seeming put out at all, Mrs. Vernor laughed, covering her mouth with her right hand.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea dear. I'll start calling around with invitations. Do you think we can get through the whole meal without a major emergency?"
That got Gwen to go still for a few seconds, but then she shook her head no. So far that simply hadn't happened here, had it? She had high hopes, but no proof it would work at all.
"We'd best be armed I think. Maybe keep it to casual dress, so that we can all be ready to fight if we have too?" She didn't mean it as anything in particular, but the others nodded, as if it were simply common sense. It was Bethany that explained it to her however.
"Some of our friends might not have fine clothing, so it would be proper to do it that way. Good thinking. I wonder if anyone will come? It is rather short notice."
Ethyl agreed with that part of things, and retrieved a notebook from another room, along with a writing pad, so that she could take notes on what they discussed. It was a pretty simple thing, a nice meal, some drinks after, or coffee, just in case they really did need to fight. It was said with a chuckle but Gwen decided to go out after they were finished and practice using her new force blasts against the targets. She had to be ready for anything. It just felt important.
The rest of the day was actually fairly boring, since she couldn't do a lot, being so tired and simply worn out. She ended up going to bed early, the healing device next to her bed purring at her like a cat, the radiative globe on the top giving off energy that promoted rapid repair of her injuries. It was tucked right next to her bed, and she slept extra long, but when she got up her muscles felt a lot less abused and her face was about ninety percent free of the remaining blemishes and bruises. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than she would have had without the machine.
Early in the day she had training, with Winslow pushing her to run with him and do some other exercises, then practice unarmed combat with Bethany. She'd skated on the run, actually having work that needed to be finished, since her real world couldn't totally come to a halt just because of Gwen. It was a funny thing, but the others weren't even half as good as she was at fighting without weapons. Charles was decent for this place, but just hadn't put in the time and effort that it would have taken to get really good. Bethany had some basic self-defense training, but it wasn't impressive, about what they taught the Army here, Gwen figured. Basically a very primitive form of boxing. It boiled down to about six different punches.
That meant, for nearly an hour, that both the others paid a lot of attention to what she told them to do. Right until Winslow had to go in and see to everyone's early meals, which meant it was time for flying practice.
Westmorland style.
Bethany pulled out a little two part device and started to attach some small silver disks to her right arm, grinning as she did it.
"This won't hurt nearly as bad as the ones from yesterday. All you have to do is float up to about five feet. When you try to come down it will hurt, forcing you to stay up in the air. The closer you get to this until," She tapped the one in her hand and placed it on the ground at Gwen's feet. "The more it will hurt, only go up about five feet or so, since I don't want broken bones if you fall. Ready? Up you go." She seemed happy enough about it all, but after about fifteen minutes, Gwen realized something. Her friend had lied to her.
The device hurt a lot, forcing her to stay up in the air, since each time she started to drop at all, the agony grew more intense. It worked, preventing her from giving in, even as she wanted too very badly. Finally, just as she was starting to go down, and couldn't stop it, even if it meant dying from the pain, the woman darted in and turned it off.
It had worked in a way, since she'd been up in the air for nearly an hour, her head splitting and her lungs aching from the panting she'd been doing. Then, still smiling, her friend did something to the side of the device that had been on the ground.
"I had Manly get this for us, so it will work for our needs pretty well. Right now it's set so that it will hurt if you stop using your energy projections. Use concussive force and aim for the target in front of you." She pointed helpfully, not giving her any chance to recover from her previous work at all.
"Go!"
This time it was hard for a very different reason, since her attention wanted to waiver every now and then, and her energy beam pulses. When it got too weak the pain started. It spurred her to do more, but it was a lot less than fun. After a while she wondered what would happen if she turned on the unit causing the pain. Before she could seriously figure out what to do, Beth laughed.
"That will just cause the whole thing to light up. The trainers are professionals and well up on all the tricks a desperate soul might use to get away from their efforts. You're lucky you have me instead, since I'm not half as mean as they are. Keep going. Harder..."
Thankfully she wasn't locked into it that much longer, just a few minutes. The second she got to stop she fell to her knees, vomiting. Not much came out, but her stomach cramped up pretty hard. Beth held her hair for her, so nothing would get on her curly brown ponytail. After a few minutes she was able to stand, but glared at the other woman. She didn't ask what the point of it all had been, she kind of got that, but it didn't mean she liked it overly. Finally she sighed and made a face.
"I suppose that tomorrow will be even harder? Is it worth it? I mean, flying is pretty much useless, isn't it?"
Bethany seemed to consider it for a bit, then flipped her palms up.
"Yes. Really you don't need that training at all, but you have to have some outlet for your power, or it will end up doing something destructive. We can't just set you to blasting things, as interesting as that is. If we tried you'd end up killing people you didn't want to, most likely. There has to be balance. You're already doing well with these two things, so we thought to start there. We'll begin some precognitive training after the Camp. I have to say that sounds exciting, doesn't it? Roasting sausages and telling scary stories around the fire at night..."
Gwen was too busy recovering still and trying not to seem like a pain in the ass to explain that she didn't think it would be that kind of fun, still, why not? They didn't have to train the whole time. They could have sing-alongs and stuff, or whatever regular people did while camping.
That part wasn't her department, but she'd remember to mention it to the others, so that at least someone could take care of it. Maybe Countess Goebbels would be willing to see to that part of things?
They needed more than that, but what, she didn't know. Maybe they could get an airship or two in for day trips? Have the girls work them or something... It wasn't a horrible idea, so Gwen, after she showered, decided to get in touch with Katherine's Uncle Thomas. He had his own fleet of the things after all, so he seemed like the man to ask.
That part ended up being harder than it sounded, since he wasn't due in until that evening. On the good side he was coming to
dinner, so they'd have at least one guest. The rest of the day went pretty slowly, but that could happen here. Feeling too bored not to be a little daring, Gwen went to one of the main rooms and found the telesar. It looked like a nice wooden cabinet, a polished red colored wood, with a brass slider on the front and a single dial, as well as an unmarked button to turn the power on.
The concept was pretty similar to using a radio back home. The form was a little different, the thing being bigger, about five foot tall and having a dull metal globe on the top, held up by a single wooden dowel. This one was special, having two smaller spheres behind the front one. What they did Gwen had no clue, but that wasn't a problem. No, the difficulty with the telesar was the content.
The station it was on was basically talk radio from the fifties, and not one of the more egregious programs, being mainly bits of news mixed with commentary from people that didn't seem to realize that their words might just hurt someone else. They were mainly angry sounding, or at least snooty and unforgiving.
The topic was a new one at least, having nothing to do with her, or anyone else she knew. The newsie was a woman, which was interesting, since men were slightly more popular for the job, and her topic of the moment seemed to be homemaking.
"Now, I know that it might be tempting to take shortcuts when dusting, but it's very important for the health and well being of your family. All traces of dust should be regularly cleaned from every surface of the home. The best way to do this is using a lint free cloth, dampened with warm water and scented with citrus oil. Do be careful to use only water and vinegar on glass surfaces, to prevent unsightly streaking."
The woman didn't sound half as enraged as the others that Gwen had heard before. In fact she seemed very nearly matronly, and the advice, while a little strict, was pretty good. After she finished, instead of reading a news item at all, she had a note from a caller. That was new as far as Gwen had ever seen from the people here. It was second hand, but it seemed that someone had used the telestator earlier to give her a new topic to speak on. This one was a little different.