Tertiary Positioning

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   <default>Tertiary Positioning</default>
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</image> <label>Posted On</label> <label>Author</label> <label>Music Theme</label> <group collapse="open"> <header>Order</header> <label>Previous Suggested Manuscript</label> <label>Previous Suggested Story</label> <label>Next Suggested Story</label> <label>Next Suggested Manuscript</label> <label>Chronologically Previous Manuscript</label> <label>Chronologically Previous Story</label> <label>Chronologically Next Story</label> <label>Chronologically Next Manuscript</label> </group> <group collapse="open"> <header>Series</header> <label>Series</label> <label>Previous</label> <label>Next</label> </group> <group collapse="open"> <header>About the Manuscript</header> <label>Type of Story</label> <label>Canon Status</label> </group> <group collapse="open"> <header>About the Story</header> <label>Date</label> <label>Location(s)</label> <label>Characters</label> </group> </infobox> By talmid

Tertiary Positioning

Chapter 1: In prelude

In the square confines of a small townhouse second floor bedroom, adjacent pairs of drawn curtains filtered the already waning sunlight of the late summer sunset to a dull orange glow, dimly illuminating the girl perched on a twin size bed with her legs crossed and eyes closed to the outside world, keeping her thoughts in. Internal lighting was already low, and timed to dim completely once night fell, to ease concurrent sleep, typical for a week night. But she only planned to rest those few hours that remained in which both she and company remained awake. Under cover of darkness, once her father, his wife, and Ben lay retired and none the wiser to undercover schemes – maybe not Ben, but he could keep secrets – she would disappear.

When she opened her eyes again, she was taken aback to see the lighting had changed. No more orange sunlight glowed through the squares of her adjacent window frames, replaced by the opaque black of predawn. The only illumination now came from her holographic timepiece, ravaging her eyes with its ghostly blue hue as she tried to squint into focus the numbers floating over her desk. She tilted her head, as they initially appeared sideways, because she’d tipped over in her sleep: 1:05 AM, thirteenth of August, in the year 3048. As well, a smaller number accompanied by a red priority mark indicated she had a few new messages to read, which she postponed for the moment.

Like her escape plan, she kept her exasperation to herself as she removed her pea coat from her desk chair, soundlessly slipped it on, and climbed onto the desk. From there she slid open the already unlocked window on its regularly greased tracks. As quickly as silence allowed, without touching its frame, she transferred her weight out the window onto the split in the trunk of the sturdy oak conveniently located on the townhouse’s southwest face. After sliding the window back down, her hand and boot grips facilitated a short shimmy downward before jumping became quietly landable, except for a sudden scrabbling when she touched the ground, probably from a small nocturnal critter.

She was out and within minutes of following the road, townhouses turned to industrial centers and office structures. She read her messages in the interim, some unwarranted taunts about her personality from her cousins, as expected from them, and nothing of importance regardless. At a private parking lot, she authorized her entry by keycard and unlocked her motor bike. At ten kilometers and ten minutes away, she needed to make up the time lost by oversleeping to keep her intended meeting. She cursed her ineptitude at sleep avoidance now as she ran the motor bike and raced for the lot exit. Time and place were decided nonsequentially and shared by word of mouth at each prior one’s conclusion. She and her contact agreed to keep their meetings off the books. At the speed she tore the bike down Nimbus City’s dark streets, she’d be lucky not to get booked herself.

This morning’s meeting was at 1:30 atop an abandoned apartment tower, in the center of Old Nimbus City, also known as the exclusion zone. Prior to meeting her contact, she’d never felt trepidation at the city’s unspoken story, but now, racing her motor bike toward the nearest checkpoint, she became aware of her underlying dread. The towering barriers erected around the exclusion zone kept more than the city’s tragedy tucked away in permanent memoriam.

For its importance to Research Into Other Realms, the governmental project she interned for, she knew that fifteen years ago the Maelstrom, the historical enemy of the Nexus Republic, had attacked from another dimension, transforming the center of the city into the wasteland it was now. Appropriately, her understanding of the city had been strictly professional, but the last meeting with her contact had changed that. No one had told her that the woman who nursed her, raised her, cherished her accomplishments, and redirected her mistakes was not her birth mother, until her contact did. No one had told her that fifteen years ago, Old Nimbus City had been the site of her real mother’s death, until her contact did, and she knew he had more to tell.

Dread boiled to anticipation in her stomach as the checkpoint to the old city approached fast. With its guard booth unmanned at this time of night, she opted to jump the gate arm, pulling the bike onto its drive wheel then throwing her weight forward as the front of the bike entered the space above the gate, while the rest of the bike caught on the gate’s arm with enough forward momentum to slide on it, but decelerating faster than her grip on the bike could handle, launching her farther and faster through the air on a trajectory to streak the road when a flash of light replaced the blur of motion, surrounding her for only an instant before all her physical senses were turned off. She had no sight, not of light or darkness or anything in between, nor sound, touch, taste, or smell, but a moment seemed to pass before her senses returned and she was falling again, but vertically and only like she’d just been dropped, this time facing upward, and her back thudded on the ground relatively softly.

From the change in scenery, she knew she was no longer at street level. Streetlights and highrises were absent, only the stars and worlds in the night sky were apparent before she propped herself into a sitting position. The small expanse of the parapeted rooftop she’d been transported to was clear except for a fallen water tower, two access structures at opposite corners, and a tall man in full body armor, matte gray with indigo ascents. He stood looking over the nearest ledge at the cityscape, shaking his head.

“I didn’t expect you to be an idiot.” His voice was modulated and filtered behind his helmet, fully obscuring his face behind a dark visor. “I was wrong.”

She got to her feet with some chagrin at his words and curiosity at her new placement. “Was that a teleporter?”

“Effectively, but a transdimensional drive does more than that. And don’t take my rescuing you for granted,” her contact warned, turning to face and raising a gloved finger her direction. “I’m not in the business of saving lives, I’m just less interested in seeing you be a meat crayon.”

He was in a condescending mood tonight, she figured, and fixed her eyes on where she pictured his were, behind the opaque shield of his visor. “Because you knew my mom.”

He didn’t dispute the connection, so she pushed. “I want to know more about Kate.”

He turned back to the ledge, resting his hands on the parapet and looking downward. “She was more than a friend.”

The girl followed to an adjacent but distant position. They were where he’d told her the meeting would be, overlooking the ruins of Old Nimbus City below. He couldn’t look more wistful without showing his face.

“I met her twenty-three years ago. We were connected by powers above our control. We were complements, but also constraints. If I was lightning, she was the rod. Without her, I’m without control, as I was the first time we parted. Now, it’s permanent. But it doesn’t need to be.”

They shared a look, on her face, curious, on the mask of his helmet, blank.

“What should I call you?” she asked.

“I wish to trust you further before I will offer suggestions,” he responded fairly.

“Then I’ll call you Indigo,” the girl decided, based on his armor.

The man nodded. “And I shall call you Red.”

Like everyone else, she thought.

Perhaps a reflection on her own wistfulness, the girl asked, “Am I your daughter?”

His head tipped slightly. “No, you’re his, for better or worse.”

She wondered what that meant. “For better or worse,” she repeated. Even from herself, she didn’t know yet. “I still haven’t told them that I know, that all my life’s been a lie that they’ve told.”

“I wouldn’t need you to keep me out when you do. What’s important is you believed me,” the man stated.

“I’ve confirmed what I’ve needed,” the girl responded. “Mara is not my mother, Kate is, and she was killed. What remains is, what do you want from me?”

“Mutual trust, curiosity, and willingness to think outside the box, challenge what you think you know, and create things you may never have realized you wanted. In that regard, I believe we may have common goals.”

“You’re thinking about dimensions,” she inferred.

“Within that subject.” The helmet nodded. She wished she could see his face. “Research Into Other Realms hasn’t covered the origin of dimensions,” the man expressed, “because they don’t know it.”

“But you want to,” she stated. “You want to know how to create a dimension. Interesting.”

“We understand each other,” he observed.

“Maybe. I’m good at reading people. Better if you show me your face,” she challenged.

“Tell me, if you could create a perfect dimension, what would you want in it?” the man asked.

“My mom.”

“As do I.” Charles took off his helmet. “Let’s get to work.”

Chapter 2: In present

Bridget Marcus tapped under the word Macabross printed on a whiteboard tacked to the unfinished plaster that was Leek Works’ war wall. “Sounds macabre,” she said, turning to her companion, Juiliet Idyllia, currently obscured beneath the largely opaque wrap of a shower-curtain.

“Finish screening for bugs,” was Juiliet’s muffled reply.

“Right.” Bridget looked around and remembered her task, including that she’d already completed it. “The room’s all clear of bugs.”

“And cameras?” Juiliet’s blue-haired head poked out from the curtain.

“No cameras,” Bridget said, and Juiliet hurled the curtain to a corner to settle with the other junk on the concrete floor. The entire room was largely gray, aesthetically unfinished but well-lit by hanging lamps. It was currently a multipurpose room, including for storage.

“Macabre is accurate,” Juiliet affirmed. “Macabross is an exoplanet in orbit of an artificial star, used as a prison planet by the Future Dimension. But, it’s also the only planet in its own mini-dimension. Pretty much purgatory.”

“And that’s where the girl, Rowana, was brought to.” Bridget ran a finger under the word. “Macabross.”

“The quantity and volume of classified intel Aiden tells you never ceases to amaze me.” Juiliet shook her head. “He can agree to my other security proposals, like checking for surveillance and counter surveillance. But keeping his mouth shut?” Her disapproving frown was all the answer.

“Well, it’s not like the others are better,” Bridget offered. “Especially the Sojourners, always working in that they’re not from around here. This is going to sound harsh, but it’s no wonder to me the Janitor went missing.”

Juiliet glared. “The amount of classified intel...” she trailed off. “You weren’t even with us when that happened.”

“Well I’m here now, and that’s what matters.” Bridget said brightly. “So, about Macabross, we’re getting Red back from there?”

Juiliet gave the room a once-over herself, before correcting the girl. “We as an organization. I personally won’t vouch for either of our positions on the roster.”

As she finished her sentence, the room lights dimmed and a sitewide alarm sounded, but only for a second. The lights returned to normal and on the empty wall opposing the whiteboard, two bright blue sparks appeared on the wall halfway between the ceiling and floor, etching up and down in parallel lines the height of a doorway before angling toward each other, completing the door.

The outlined section of wall rotated inward on one side, swinging into the room, and out of the new doorway stepped three young men, Aiden Talmid, Luke Mercury, and Alex Talmid. As Alex’s legs gave away, Aiden and Luke grabbed his shoulders and Bridget sprang to his side as well, looking between the brothers while extending a hand to help ease him to the ground. “Is he alright?”

“This is normal,” Luke said. “So far, four-fifths of all first-timers experienced what he’s feeling.”

“I feel like I’m dying,” Alex groaned.

“Hang on, it’ll pass.” assured Luke.

“’First-timers’?” Bridget questioned.

“We just transdimensionally maneuvered,” Aiden stated. “This was Alex’s first time, and he’s with the susceptible ones. When we escaped Jirdia, four of us were first-timers, three of whom were similarly sick on landing.”

“It was the pukening.” Luke said.

Bridget sent a horrified glance Aiden’s way. “Who didn’t get sick?” she asked.

Looking around the room, Luke’s eyes settled on Juiliet, still working on the lockbox as if she were pretending not to listen. “Not her. She got sick.”

“That’s the opposite of what she asked,” Alex said through clenched teeth.

“By the way,” Aiden turned to Bridget, glanced behind her at Juliet, then back to Bridget, “did either of you hear an alarm before we entered?”

“There was an alarm,” Juiliet reported, “but only for a second.”

“It should have gone longer,” Aiden said, when a mop held by a brown-haired man in scrubs entered the room.

“Did I hear some of ye asking about that alarm, from yay minutes ago?” asked Shard, the resident janitor, as he mopped around the room’s existing paths and pushing the clutter that leaked out back into the corners. “Because I turned it off.”

Aiden shrugged. “That mystery’s solved.”

“In the future, don’t just turn off alarms like that,” Luke chastised. “Especially not our new transdimensional intrusion alert, which that alarm happened to be. We set it up before we left for Elistra.”

“That’s another problem with the way this place is run,” Juiliet huffed as she stood up from the lockbox, the cross in her arms mirroring the tone of her expression. “You don’t communicate. The two of you set up a new alarm and didn’t practice the foresight to tell anyone else? That’s idiocy. Significant restructuring is needed, or this organization will shut down, whether you like or it not.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Are you volunteering to lead such restructuring?”

Juiliet smiled. “I am in fact volunteering.”

“Yippee, we’re all going to die,” Shard facepalmed.

“Only if you don’t listen to me.” Juiliet raised a finger. “I can enact policies and set directions, but they’re moot if you don’t follow them. This will be a team effort, and it sure as hell hasn’t been one until now.” She turned to Aiden. “Granted you grant me this responsibility?”

“Consider yourself in charge,” Aiden sighed. “Thanks for stepping up.”

“I’ll need a title,” Juiliet continued, turning away.

“Make one?” Aiden suggested. “Something overarching, but not overbearing.”

The young lady nodded to herself.

“Oh, to see history in the making again,” Shard sighed. “We now enter the dark ages of Leek Works, the years of Juiliet Idyllia.”

“Before I can go onto more important tasks,” Juiliet reminded, “someone needs to finish the filing of Tiberius’s lockbox contents. As well, I made some interesting findings unfortunately unshared while the four of you screwed off with my assistant.”

“Luke, Shard, finish the lockbox,” Aiden told his blond friend and the janitor, then nodded to Juiliet as he started walking for the hallway to his office. “Fill me in.”

Out of the storage room and into the circular hallway, Juiliet filled Aiden, Bridget, and an able Alex in. “Five years ago, Tiberius sampled the atomic orientations of fifty Stromlings from the battle of Elistra. In those fifty, he found three distinctly different orientations. Maelstrom from three different dimensions participated in the first attack on Elistra.”

“Three different dimensions,” Alex repeated.

“We’re not just dealing with one Maelstrom Dimension as previously thought. We never were.” Juiliet warned. “Worse, if there were three Maelstrom Dimensions five years ago, who here’s to say there aren’t more now?”

“Especially since we’ve been kept way out of the loop concerning Unverse.” Aiden muttered. “Thanks to the Future Dimension. Did you know the Unverse bomb we dropped only affected the Maelstrom and us? Damn them.”

“The sentiment’s shared,” agreed Juiliet.

“Surely they must be doing some good,” Bridget offered. “There haven’t been any transdimensional invasions in the past three years.”

“As far as we know,” Aiden said. “Not here, at least.”

“How much do we really know about their Nexus Force?” she continued.

“They call themselves a Nexus Republic,” Juiliet scoffed, “and if you can put up with Shard, he can tell you all about their political instability. We can’t trust them to do anything that’s not in their own self-interest.”

“Guys,” Alex rushed to catch up while they stopped at an adjoining corridor. “Just so you know, everything you’re talking about is flying way over my head.”

“It’s an unfortunate symptom,” Aiden conceded. “There’s too much to tell in so little time with too few interested to hear it all. Plus, we’ve historically been too few to branch out and prioritize more than one task, but now we’ve got Ray, Callista, Agentsky, Kath, and you both.” He regarded Bridget and Alex. “Thanks to you, we’re now more likely than ever to get things done.”

“Bringing our family back,” Alex said.

“Rescuing Red from Macabross,” Bridget said.

“Getting a foothold back in the transdimensional frontier,” Juiliet said.

“Confronting the Rogues on Jirdia,” Aiden said, “rescuing Kate, engaging the Maelstrom Dimensions.” He met the eyes of each team member. “We’ve got lots to do.”

Chapter 3: In prealter

“Oh no.”

“Found it.”

Soft giggling accompanied the words, along with the sliding of drawers.

“Stop it, she’s waking!”

Layers of blankets for the most part cushioned Kate from the pokes and prods of arms and legs as two bouncing masses evacuated what had to be her bed. She could figure not much more than that, as her head felt like it was squeezed between two opposing weights, one like an external force that pinned her head to her pillow, the other from inside, flaring against the sides of her head, painfully, when she tried to recall what sequence of events brought her to this situation, whatever it was.

She opened her eyes to find four pairs of wide brown eyes dancing in front of her, which morphed to two pairs as her vision corrected itself. They belonged to two girls standing at the bedside, both the same heights as the sloppily closed dresser drawer behind them, about a meter tall. Both had heart shaped faces surrounding by bushy red hair, and both held something until they dropped it to the floor with a thud.

“Who… are you?” Kate asked.

The girls went from staring at Kate to facing each other. “Get Ma,” they said at the same time.

“No…” Kate groaned, turning to watch as they ran around her bed and out the door, leaving her by herself. Conveniently, the pressure in her head moved to her eyes, forcing them closed, and an involuntary drowse came shortly after. As the room faded in and out, she heard a girl’s voice call out to her, even though there was no one else in the room.

“Kate! I’m with you Kate, I need you to listen to me…”

“I’m with you,” said a different voice when Kate’s eyes opened. Awake now, her sight was momentarily blocked by a woman’s hand combing Kate’s hair to the side of her own face. When done, she stifled a cry as it moved past to reveal the face of her mother. She tried to address her, but her throat refused to unconstrict, and her mother spoke sooner.

“There was an accident, Katherine.” Her mother’s lovely face wore a grave expression. “Do you remember?”

Accident? Kate thought to herself. She didn’t remember any accident, and while she tried thinking back to the last thing she did remember, nothing was coming up quickly either, and her mother took her silence as affirmation. “Dear girl, you don’t remember.”

Trying to keep remembering was pointless, Kate decided sullenly. “What happened?” she got her cracked voice to say.

Her mother shook her head sadly. “I wish I could give you a satisfactory answer. The Governor-General is still investigating, and without knowing the full story myself, I don’t want to burden you with rumors. I do know you’re strong and brave, and except for losing some memory of the event, everything else will come back, in time. You’re going to be fine.”

From a kettle on the bedside table, she poured a cup of tea and handed it to her daughter, who sat up to accept it. Despite scrunching her nose at the scent, Kate drank some to ease the dryness in her throat, so it was easier to talk. “How long have I been out?” she asked.

“Since you were last up, only a minute,” her mother said softly. “But in all, you’ve been recovering for a month. We only moved you back home last week.”

“A month.” Kate repeated. “That’s a lot of downtime from…” She trailed off, unable to find the missing piece of her sentence. “This is going to last awhile, isn’t it?” she said candidly.

“Everyone will surely fill you in as you need,” her mother assured her. “We’re always here for you. The twins in particular haven’t wanted to leave your side. I’m keeping them out now that you’re awake, until you want visitors again.”

“Twins.” Kate remembered them bouncing around her and raiding her drawers, but nothing else. “Who were they?”

Her mother’s lips parted in an expression of surprise, and Kate realized she was supposed to know their identities. “They’re my sisters,” she inferred quickly, and her mother nodded. It was a reasonable guess, but her chances of guessing correctly any details were poor.

Her mother looked about to say their names, but Kate stopped her. “Let it come to me,” she said. “Then I’ll know I’m getting better.”

Her mother nodded. “We will always support you, even if you don’t know it.” She kissed Kate’s forehead and patted her arm. “You deserve time to yourself. When you’re ready to resume your life, anything will be how you want, just let me, your father, or your sisters know.”

She closed the door behind her, leaving Kate to herself again. Setting the tea aside, she inspected her arms and hands, turning them over from palms to backs to palms again. She raised a hand to the side of her face, tracing the shape of her jaw, cheeks, nose, eye sockets, and hairline. It all felt new.

Will I even recognize myself? she wondered dourly, throwing off the covers and blanching at the room’s chill, before donning slippers and pattering to the bedroom’s full-length mirror. She faced her reflection with a puzzled expression, which turned into a double take as the girl in the mirror bedroom was fully clothed in jeans and a trench coat, with deathly pale skin, black hair, and a voice to call through it, “Kate, you need to destroy this mirror!”

Kate jumped back. “And who are you?!”

The girl tilted her hands up placatingly. “I’m Grace, but that’s beside the point – please destroy this mirror, quickly!”

“No,” Kate challenged, “not until you tell me how you’re talking to me through a… is it even a mirror?”

“It’s a mirror,” Grace stepped closer to the glass, “and somehow it’s also an exit portal for the Maelstrom, from the pocket dimension into a location in your dimension, I’m assuming Jirdia! It’s not the only exit either. I’ll try to find the next one before they do, but only the Maelstrom can pass through.”

“What’s the Maelstrom?” Kate asked.

Grace slammed her fists into the glass, causing Kate to jump back further, even though her effort had no physical effect on the mirror’s surface or structure, not even causing a tremor. Grace squeezed her fists into her temples in exasperation.

“I get your brain’s scrambled,” Grace said, “but I swear to god, if you don’t smash this mirror-” she looked over her shoulder at something only she could see, swore, and turned back with her arms folded now. “Forget it. See for yourself. They’re here.” Then she sidestepped out of the mirror’s field of view, revealing Kate’s true reflection, small, unarmored, and almost completely backed up to the opposing wall.

“The Maelstrom…” Kate repeated.

A large blade shot out of the mirror spilling purple mist across the glass, which somehow remained unbroken, followed by a scarred and blistered arm behind the blade and a leg coming through below the arm. Then an emaciated face emerged above it, with bared yellow teeth stubs and blood red eyes that fixed on Kate.

The monster grinned, until its head suddenly ignited in flame, the thermal shock of which cracked the mirror. Glass shards fell to the floor, along with the monster’s burning head, arm, and leg, but only the parts that had visibly emerged, severed at the mirror’s surface when the glass broke, leaving the rest of it behind, wherever that was. Grace had said pocket dimension…

“Grace!” Kate shouted, pulling back her arms which she’d unconsciously outstretched, becoming aware of the small fires burning on her fingers. “Ow!” She blew out each one, then rushed to the fire spreading to her carpet from the burning head, thankfully now lifeless. She cringed as she stamped its flames out, ignoring shoots of pain from the glass shards piercing her footwear, until the fire was gone.

Kate stumbled back to her bed and gingerly removed the slippers, carefully not touching the streaks of purple and brown or the glass shards inundating the soles, and dropped them to the ground. Then she inspected her hands and feet, grimacing at the pain from the burns and the glass – until it began to fade. Drawing in her breath, Kate watched as the blisters on her fingers and the pinpricks on her soles morphed into healthy skin.

“What in the world…” Kate looked between her hands, the broken mirror, the Maelstrom monster’s parts adorning the burnt floor, and back to herself. She put two and two together. She’d started the fire, the flames coming from her hands, and whatever energy sourced her power also healed her.

With widened eyes, she swung over to the other side of the bed, where the twins had messed around. It seemed so long ago now, but what they’d dropped on the ground remained, a scabbard. She picked it up and withdrew its sword, a katana with a curved jewel steel blade and ornate blue hilt. The uneven shine and imperfections betrayed a history of heavy use, but no accounts came to mind.

Between the revelations of the sword, fire and healing powers, and a magic mirror through which the Maelstrom tried to kill her, Kate shut her eyes and threw herself back onto her bed. She’d woken into a complex world with few clues to what roles she was expected to play, and what did she expect of herself?

After a moment, she set the katana aside and reapproached the drawers from which it had presumably been removed. If they contained any more hints to her history, she wanted to find them. She resolved to find out who she was.