Tag: Georgians

  • Triple, Venti, Soy, No Foam Latte – Part I

    “How did we get main power up and running again?” Mason asked confused.

    The Van Helsing Resurgence by Evelyn Chartres

    Their original estimate had been in the order of weeks, but the fusion generators were roaring back to life now. When operating normally, they would be silent and undetectable to humans, functioning at frequency ranges that were beyond a human’s ability to detect. In contrast, the ramp up procedure made them impossible to conceal. While the machinery whirled back to life, the sound increased lock-step with the power levels, reminding him of gas turbines spooling up on an airliner.

    For a moment, the building vibrated in harmony with the generators. The startled group looked to one another because this scenario was never meant to happen. If this were to turn into a positive feedback loop, the building would come crashing down.

    Fortunately, the speed increased just enough to cancel out the harmonics. Soon, the main power would be restored and they could get some answers, or so they hoped.

    Brett, who was preoccupied with the generator start-up routine, answered once he was satisfied, “Breanna activated a repair drone.”

    “So I leave for a couple of hours and you find a repair drone that none of us knew about?” Mason asked.

    Brett shrugged before answering, “She found it while snooping around in the inventory database.”

    “Breanna!” Mason yelled, but by now, the generators were nearly silent, so it came across like he was furious.

    “What!” Breanna snapped back. A few seconds later, her head peeked out from the floor above and she asked, “You called, Oh Captain, My Captain?”

    “Stop that!” Mason exclaimed before adding, “Why were you searching through the inventory?”

    Breanna was enjoying getting under his skin. While this had been a rough night for the lot of them, she was still bored of these petty squabbles. She needed an escape, but for now, the where and the who was still up for grabs.

    Breanna let out a long woeful sigh before replying, “I thought it was time well spent compared to staring at a blank screen.”

    “So, you didn’t know we had one?” Mason asked.

    “No,” Breanna said in a bored tone. “Did you?”

    The act of throwing the question back in Mason’s face was her way of avoiding conflict. While Brett could get away with his antics, she had no such leeway.

    Georgians in their true form functioned like insect colonies here on Earth. Enclaves of Georgians were primarily composed of female workers, a small group of drones, and the Queen. Mason, Brett, and Breanna had all been workers, so gender had not been a factor until they were selected for this expedition.

    Mason and Brett ended up with naughty bits on the outside and quickly developed traits that came with that toolset. Mason became the authoritarian ass who led by edict, while Brett played the part of the court jester.

    Breanna had been assigned a female body, which opened up a whole array of alternate attack vectors. While the men could draw conflict by threatening some unwritten patriarchal rule, she possessed the ability to bypass most safeguards all by using her assets against the opposite sex.

    Although effective, Breanna soon learned that she preferred the company of other women. There was a softness, a connection that existed during those liaisons that eluded her with men. Her age of discovery coincided with the Roaring Twenties, an era when empowered and hedonistic women were also open to exploration.

    While Mason questioned Brett on what was known of the repair drone, Breanna pulled out her mobile from the depths of her pocket. She flicked through the interface until a certain name made her heart skip a beat. Without a second thought, the fiery redhead sent out a ping into the night.

    “Am I going to get a reply?” Breanna hoped.

    Mason tapped Breanna’s shoulder and asked, “Is everything okay?”

    Breanna fumbled with the phone until she managed to press the lock button. The screen went black, and left behind the reflection of a hysterical woman.

    “Fuck!” Breanna exclaimed. “Don’t do that.”

    “Sorry,” Mason said in that sorry, not sorry tone.

    “Yeah. Yeah,” Breanna replied while ignoring the giggle-snort that Brett made. “I’m sorry. Did I miss something?”

    Mason gave her a curious look, as though he was trying to peer into the depths of her soul. Since they were no longer linked through cybernetic implants, the man gave up.

    “Can we confirm—,” Mason said.

    “The gain in mass?” Breanna answered while interacting with her station’s interface. She paused for a moment before adding, “The original estimates were correct.”

    “That’s impossible!” Mason blurted out.

    “Well, normally, yes,” Breanna said.

    She switched to her phone and scanned trending headlines. There were a few articles of note, so she pushed the content onto her workstation’s display to show the group.

    The first article started off with the image of a man in prison attire. The headlines read, ’Man who rode lighting, back from the grave?’ Immediately, to the side of the mugshot, they displayed the picture of a man they apprehended earlier tonight. Either they were twins or—

    “Says here that police arrested a man trying to break into his former home. Authorities are baffled. Dental records and fingerprints were matched to those of the convicted serial killer, Adam Graves. The same man who was executed last year for his string of sex crimes that culminated in a series of horrific murders,” Breanna summarized. “The thing is, this man has no scars from the police shootout.”

    The second article was more graphic. It contained a picture of a skyscraper superimposed over a dilapidated neighbourhood block. Some developments did integrate existing building faces into the design, but this was something else entirely. The front face of the larger structure was blocked by two boarded up buildings. In between, there were dumpsters, full of trash, which were fused in the front doors. Of course, the most disturbing element, were the people embedded into the structure. Men and women in suits were now literally part of walls erected a century ago.

    “What the—,” Mason and Brett said.

    “The article states that this neighbourhood was torn down shortly after the last municipal elections,” Breanna said. “Now it seems that both events happened simultaneously.”

    “So—,” Mason tried to ask.

    “Correct,” Breanna said. “These humans can’t create matter, or at least not on this scale. The disturbance we saw appears to have resurrected alternate timelines and integrated them with our own.”

    Mason turned to face Brett who, by now, was white as a sheet. It was one thing to make a mistake that knocked out their systems. Mishaps like that could be remedied without alerting the world to their presence. However, this was a fuck up of epic proportions. People were sure to remember an alternate version of events and start asking questions. News of this event was already spreading like wildfire which would only add fuel to the fire.

    “Oh shit.” Brett said in an attempt to deflect.

    Breanna smiled, knowing that this court jester was about to be put in his place. She only wished that she had a big bag of popcorn on hand to enjoy the show.

    Disclaimer: This chapter is currently in development. There are likely typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. Please do not treat this as a polished and completed work!

  • Morpheus’ Embrace – Part I

    It was a couple of hours since the incident, and the lab was still in complete disarray. Half of the false flooring was gone, removed to access the fusion generators below. Test equipment and tools littered what little was left of the floor space, which confined Breanna to her station. Fortunately, she kept busy by running system diagnostics while keeping an eye on their remaining power reserves.

    The Van Helsing Resurgence - Saturday Scenes

    The North wall, farthest away from the exit, had been scorched black after a fire broke out at one of the associated workstations. Fortunately, emergency power had been restored by that time, so the integrated fire suppression systems dealt with the threat before the lab turned into a crematorium.

    “I told you to check the polarity!” Mason yelled.

    Brett just glared at the team leader, and avoided making eye contact with Breanna who was snickering at the outburst. These generators were his pride and joy, and knew their designs intimately, he should not have been second guessed.

    “I’ve maintained these generators for the past twenty-five years,” Brett said.

    “So?” Mason asked.

    “So I’m sure the power bypass is compatible with our systems,” Brett said in all honesty.

    For now they were at an impasse. Mason was also aware that the polarity, phase, and the voltage at the tap was compatible. The generators alternate feed was designed to provide long-term auxiliary power, that was their primary function. So why did they nearly blow out the power grid in the attempt? They needed auxiliary power to restart the generators, only then would they have stable power.

    Breanna cleared her throat to get the men’s attention. Both of them looked up from the mess of wires and circuits to focus on their counterpart. Brett was clearly annoyed by the distraction, while Mason seemed relieved for the opportunity to focus on something else.

    “This service manual for the Mister Fusion Mark Twelve Bravo says…” Breanna said, before she paused to decipher the schematics. “That you should have tapped after the converter to get the correct polarity.”

    The men turned to one another, and collectively shrugged. Now that was downright odd, since what she reported did not match what either knew to be true.

    “We have a Mark Twelve Alpha,” Mason finally said as a way to avoid escalating tensions.

    “Yeah,” Brett said. “Bravo’s are fitted on interstellar craft, not ground installations.”

    Breanna shrugged and quickly tapped on her dimly lit console. The systems were scaling back their processing power as reserves dwindled. This trend would continue until they established auxiliary power.

    “Wait one,” Breanna said while the query ran in the foreground. “The system’s firmware pings back as a Bravo.”

    “No way!” Brett yelled.

    Breanna turned around so fast that the men flinched. Her eyes darted in their direction, sized them up before looking away slowly and sighed. She then rubbed her temples in an effort to calm down. Breanna may not have been born a redhead, but she clearly embraced that particular stereotype.

    “You want to come up here and check?” Breanna challenged.

    Mason cringed and thought it best to say, “Why don’t you check the tally plates, Brett.”

    The request coming from Mason managed to diffuse the situation. Brett disappeared from sight, since getting to those plates required him to squeeze by two industrial capacitors, followed by hugging the outer casing to avoid making contact with exposed circuits.

    “Fuck!” Brett yelled, although the sound was muffled by the surrounding equipment.

    “Everything good?” Mason asked.

    “No!” Brett exclaimed just as he lit a red filtered torch. “I just ran into a high capacity power conduit.”

    For a man who insisted he knew these generators intimately, that certainly raised a slew of questions. One did not just forget the location of power transmission lines, because inadvertent contact when the system was operational meant disintegration.

    Minutes later, the red light bled out into the room followed by Brett. It gave the man a certain demonic look, despite the wide eyes and soft features that were trademarks of those humbled.

    “Mister Fusion Mark Twelve…” Brett said. “Bravo,” he whispered.

    Mason cocked an eyebrow once that information hit him. His memories were clearly aligned with Brett’s. In fact, he would have bet his life on it. No matter, his bruised ego could be addressed at a later time, and for now they needed power.

    “How long will it take you to establish a power bypass?” Mason asked.

    Brett sighed, then looked up towards Breanna. His shoulders were slumped and his face was crestfallen. It was clear that he did not take well to being proved wrong.

    “I don’t know,” Brett replied. “I’ll have to consult the technical manuals to provide an assessment.”

    “So safe to say that you’ll need at least four hours?” Mason asked.

    “Safe to say,” Brett responded. “Yes.”

    Mason turned to Breanna and said, “Does that phone of yours still work?”

    Breanna withdrew the device from the depths of her lab coat. She tapped on the surface, and on command the screen came to life, so she nodded.

    “We are going to be here a while—,” Mason said.

    “On it,” Breanna said in haste, seeing how she could stand to eat as well.

    Breanna flew past the apps and menus until she neared the entry she sought. At least, that had been her intent, but the Chinese restaurant she sought was not listed. Odd, since she passed it just this morning, and the memory of that fried rice wafting from out of their exhaust, was enough to make her salivate.

    “It’s not there?” Breanna asked.

    “What do you mean?” Mason queried in return.

    “General Chang’s Lucky Wok,” Breanna said. “Doesn’t show on Scroogle or even on Street Peeper.”

    “I loved that place!” Brett whined.

    Mason stepped back, and immediately latched onto a solid object, to avoid falling in between the equipment. Distractions in this current situation were ill advised, but these disconnects from reality were making it more likely.

    Was the group’s collective memory faulty? Not only once, but twice now? Or was there something else at play they had yet to consider?

    “What’s there now?” Mason asked.

    Breanna spread her fingers over the screen to zoom in on the sign and answered, “King of Donair.”

    “What’s a donair?” the men asked.

    Mason was tired of this, so he hopped skipped and jumped through the gaps, until he reached the exit. Once he pressed the button, he expected to hear the airlock equalise pressure. Instead, the door slid open to reveal a storage closet.

    “What the fuck!” Mason swore.

    Disclaimer: This chapter is currently in development. There are likely typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. Please do not treat this as a polished and completed work!

  • Cause and Effect – Part V

    Breanna heard a series of hurried steps down adjoining corridors. People were scrambling to evacuate the building, so naturally she wondered why. Her curiosity was further piqued when her mobile vibrated, the sound it made was deafening in this quiet room.

    The Van Helsing Resurgence - Saturday Scenes

    While their technology was far superior to such a crude device, nothing of theirs was currently operational. Since Mason and Brett were busy removing panels from the false floor in an attempt to access the generators, she used her fingerprint to unlock the device.

    It took a moment for the men to realise what Breanna was up to. How was this possible? Their technology were designed to survive the rigours of interstellar travel, and yet a toy designed by these apes worked fine.

    “What are you doing with that?” Mason asked.

    “As in doing with a mobile? Or what am I busy doing with it?” Breanna asked absentmindedly.

    Mason had to think about it before answering, “Let’s start with the first part.”

    “People think those who don’t have these things as though they are from Mars,” Breanna said in all seriousness.

    The men looked at one another and smirked. It seemed that their female cohort spent far more time amongst the apes then they assumed. It also spoke volumes on how much attention they paid her.

    “Besides,” Breanna added. “It’s a great way to get out of any unwanted small talk, or get some creep off my back.”

    That concept was alien to them, sure they looked like Greek gods, but women tended not to force themselves upon them. This was their first real insight they had on the plight of human females.

    “Glad I was selected to be a male,” Brett said with a smirk.

    Breanna gave Brett a dirty look before saying, “I got tired of disintegrating aggressors.” Her eyes narrowed on the last part, just to drive home the point that this was a less than subtle threat, before adding, “That tends to bring up a lot of unpleasant questions, not to mention the need for an alibi when someone is last seen alive with you.”

    “So what about the latter?” Mason asked in an attempt to change the subject.

    Breanna looked up at the boys for a few moments before she answered, “According to Bealzabook and some of the major news services. There are several reports of a shockwave that circumnavigated the globe.”

    “Global?” Mason asked.

    “Since McMurdo station in Antarctica reported the disturbance,” Breanna said. “I think it’s safe to say that it is.”

    Mason paused for a moment, his mind going over the hundreds of variables in his head. All in an attempt to figure out what was required to generate this kind of event? None of the permutations he could think of would permit it, at least not with the precise application of frequency and power.

    “Did you confirm all of the settings prior to triggering the tachyon discharge?” Breanna asked before giggling at some random meme on her timeline.

    Mason turned to look at Brett, because that was the one variable he had yet to consider. There was no way that someone in this room was capable of making such a simple mistake.

    “Oops,” Brett said.

    Disclaimer: This chapter is currently in development. There are likely typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. Please do not treat this as a polished and completed work!

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