Friday, 30 January 2015

Stolen Body


(Excerpt from The Chronicles of Han Storm, Preserving Creata)

So, how does it feel when your body is stolen?

Panam interrupted the homecoming. “Have you had anything to eat since you woke up this morning?”
Racewater looked at me too.
“No.”
I was not impressed with the quarters. It was cramped and I would not be able to stay here for long.
“Are you feeling like anything to eat right now?” Panam was concerned.
“No, thank you.”
I changed the subject and voiced my complaint. “I am really not comfortable with this room.”
Racewater agreed. “Neither are we, but this is the best we have at the moment. As I said, if you can find something better, please do.”
I had to be satisfied with that and sat down on my bed. Sleep was very far away. I had just woken up from a three day snooze. Why should I be feeling tired?
Panam was digging in a bag. I had nothing better to do but watch him. He brought forth an energy bar, covered in chocolate. It was the berry type I favoured. I knew it was for me and my mouth suddenly watered for it.
This was the first time since acquiring this new body that it responded in this way at the sight of something edible.
I was as surprised as everyone else by the barbaric manner in which I saw my body grab the bar from Panam and gobble it up. It just made sure the wrapper was opened wide enough to get the snack out.
I was so embarrassed by this sudden inexplicable lack of control that I kicked off my shoes and buried myself under the blankets on my bed.
I really did not want to face my friends. This was absolutely humiliating.
I heard Panam sit down on the opposite bed, facing me. “Maybe we approached the situation all wrong with the nutritional requirements of your new body? Maybe it needs more fruit sugars? I want you to look at me.”
I refused to do so physically. I was well aware that I was looking at him with a part of my consciousness outside myself.
Panam looked over at Racewater, a silent question in his eyes. He had another bar in his hand, already unwrapped.
My body could not help itself and, without looking and with lightning speed, left Panam with empty hands, the wrapper falling to the floor. It gobbled that one up under the blanket.
Again, surprise registered on both their faces. I wished to die of embarrassment, but did not get so far.
Warm comfort enveloped me. There was no way the energy bars could be drugged, but that was the response it had on my body. It fell asleep.
This was so weird. Half of me was asleep, the other half felt that I needed to return to my body too, to give it the rest it needed. Like a naughty child I defied the call of the mother, trying to stay awake when I was already asleep.
Panam checked my vitals, sitting down when he had finished.
“I really do not know just what had happened now, but he is sleeping like a small child“ he told Racewater. “I will ask Sandra to test the response of the energy bars on his bloods. There must be something in there that he responds to as a natural knock-out.”
“In the way he grabbed the bars, it was if he had absolutely no control over his body“ Racewater replied. “Did you see the surprise and hurt in his eyes? I hope he can forgive himself come morning. Maybe we must simply ignore the whole incident and act as if it never happened?”
“We could, but it is not going to help us find out why he responded in this way. He always showed great control over himself. I am scared he might be falling apart.” Panam was frightened.
He had good reason to be. He had seen first hand what can happen when psychics ‘lost’ it. It was not a pretty sight.
I resolved to get a grip on this body. I was its master. It had to listen to me. Starting right now, I refused to give up this part of my consciousness to join the sleeping part of myself. This was the first step to independence.
Locked out of my body, I had nothing else to do but eavesdrop on Panam and Racewater. It was boring entertainment, with both preparing for sleep after a hard day’s work. Panam confirmed that Racewater had dinner. Racewater took a shower and turned in.
Panam checked my vitals before taking his turn to shower. He made himself some coffee before retiring to bed. I was left alone with only the bathroom light on for company.
Both men were sleeping almost as soon as their heads hit their pillows. I had a closer look at my silent, sleeping body. It looked small and vulnerable on the bed. Even the features took on the look of a very young child.
I stayed in front of my body the whole night. It stirred from time to time, and at one stage said something in a language I did not recognize.
I asked for a download. A feeling of saturation brought the necessary knowledge. My body had clearly said “I’m coming mother.”

Come morning, it woke up, a joyful smile on the lips. Two very bright and shiny black eyes were looking about the room with a mischievous glint in them.
I was definitely not in control any longer.
Realization struck.
Somebody else, with a very strong personality and spirit, had surreptitiously taken over my body and most of my functions. I was so surprised that you could have knocked me over with a feather.
I had to get my conscious side back in my body to enable me to help the small child that had taken it over. Either for him to find peace, or at least to move on to another plane of existence.
I wondered how Panam and Racewater would perceive this sudden crisis. For this was a crisis.
I was supposed to start work this morning, and there was absolutely no way I could deal with anything until I had my body back. It was simply far too dangerous having a toddler at the controls of a psychic weapon.
I gently re-introduced my consciousness into my body. My body went rigid for a second as recognition of another was felt throughout.
“Who are you?” the voice of a small boy asked out loud in the language I now understood.
The voice woke Racewater who sat up and looked at me. My body was now sitting up in bed too.
“I am Han Storm and this is my body, not yours. May I please have it back?” I felt Racewater’s surprise. I spoke Creatan. The child understood me, but answered in his own language.
“No. You left it. It is mine now. Finders, keepers.” Your typical toddler’s response. This was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated. I could still think as an individual spirit, but had almost no control over my physical functions.
The new owner made my body jump up and down on the bed.
Racewater knew now what was going on. He went around my body and woke Panam, whispering to him. Thank goodness they would not think me mad any longer.
Panam whispered back to Racewater “This is a huge problem. We will have to stall everything until this is resolved. Go get Quill, we need their input.”
Racewater left me jumping on the bed, sneaking out to find re-enforcements.
I tried again to speak to the child. It was amazing that my voice came out as usual, but when the child said anything, it was definitely  a child’s voice.
“Please stop jumping. This body is big and can break the bed, hurting both of us.” The boy stopped jumping, sat down and stared at Panam, who calmly went about his morning business, ignoring us.
“What is your name?” I ventured in Creatan.
“Daijon” I received back from my own body in a child’s voice.
“Where do you come from?”
“From here. I was alone for a very long time. Everyone went away, and then people came again and I was not alone any more. They do not want to give me food. They also do not talk to me as you do.”
My body went over to Panam, Daijon was interested in the coffee that he was preparing. “I want some.”
Panam did not understand the language. I translated helplessly “He requested some coffee.”
Panam firmly replied, as if he was a teacher “No, this drink is only for grown-up people. Little children cannot have this. It is not healthy for them.”
“But this body is big already. Give me some.” He stamped a foot to enforce his request.
Panam ignored him and addressed me. “How can he understand us, but answers in another language?”
“I estimate him to portray a toddler of four or five, just coming fully into language skills. It would be hard to learn to ‘speak’ another language. It is easier to understand than actually speak it.”
The boy responded “No, I just do not want to.” I did not bother to translate to Panam as Racewater, Quill and Bulwark arrived. Racewater locked the door behind him, as if afraid that my body would escape.
Quill took one look and started laughing. It was not a funny situation at all, but it was hilarious if you thought that I was supposed to be trained in preventing this from happening.
Bulwark gave a wry smile. Racewater went livid with anger, but managed to keep his tongue. Panam showed his surprise by almost dropping his coffee.
Daijon did not appreciate the laughter.
He lifted my arm and hand, but that was as far as it went. Fortunately some of the knowledge residing in this powerful entity had permeated into my consciousness. He was well gifted in the art of illusions and could enforce compulsion. This I found directly from his memories, that somehow was filtering through to me.
I managed to freeze my body with a self-compulsion. No matter how hard Daijon fought me, I refused to let my body move.
My face must have given the inner fight away. I could feel it contorting with the effort to keep the power from spilling out of my body.
Daijon suddenly gave up. My body slumped forward and then sat down on the floor.
“I want to go home” Daijon said. A sniff escaped my body and then large tears rolled down my cheeks.
Quill came and sat in front of my body.
“Stop crying.” He said, taking my chin in his hand, making Daijon look up into his eyes. “Where is your home. We will take you there.”
Quill understood the language! Yet he replied in Creatan, as I was speaking to the child.
Daijon stopped crying and wiped the tears with my sleeve. He answered all excited. “I will show you where I sleep. Come.” My body jumped up and went to the door. I was now only a passenger!
Racewater caught the nod from Quill and unlocked it. Panam and Quill rushed after my body.
 Daijon took us to the elevator and then to the top floor. This turned out to be the main site of the Dig and was of gigantic proportions.
It had one main feature.
The Planetary Portal!
This portal was so huge, it dwarfed the portal that used to stand at Batista. Flashes of memory wanted my attention simultaneously.
I saw a travel craft arriving through the portal. Similar craft were queuing, ready and waiting to take the journey to another planet. People and goods were secured inside these travel craft. I knew they were called something else, but the name was eluding me.
Daijon supplied the missing information. They were called Toowins. The craft were adaptable aircraft and could be used as normal aircraft transport carriers. At the moment their wings were tucked into their sides to facilitate easy portal travel.
With such a big portal, the tunnels should also be of gigantic proportions. Where are we going to get enough energy to start this Portal, if we manage to rebuild a suitable and stable enough worm-hole or tunnel?
I had not even started the actual work of unravelling the mystery of the Portal, and I was already panicking about getting it to work.
Daijon told me to stop fretting.
I had almost forgotten my immediate crisis. Daijon was pained by the thought. So he was already telepathically linked to me. I tried to open a link directly to his spirit, but found him blocked as if he was a non-telepath. I let it go.
He led us to the back of the cavern, skipping as he went. I wished I could vanish into the earth. Daijon laughed at my embarrassment.
Several side tunnels led from here. He took one that looked as if work had only recently started within. The tunnel was clear, but seemed to lead to no-where.
Daijon activated the light by instruction, as I did at Batista. “The other people cannot get it right. They always bring their own light-source. They are so silly.”
Daijon took us right to the back of the tunnel where we reached a dead end consisting of panels. He held my hand over an activation panel and life-force was released into it.
Whether it was my life-energy, Daijon’s or a mix of the two, I did not know, but the panels moved apart, revealing another tunnel. He asked for light and we moved into this tunnel. The doors sealed behind us. Time to worry about that later.
This tunnel ended in a landing. There was absolutely nothing further that we could perceive. Daijon was very excited. Allowing my body to hang over the railing, he pointed down into the black nothingness.
“Look there, next to the crystal. That is where I sleep. No-one ever comes here to look for me. I still sleep there, but I want to go sleep with my mother now. She is in the caves at the other side of the city. Can you take me to her?”
He was definitely linked telepathically with me, for as he spoke, I saw exactly where his mummified remains lay where he had fallen as a small child. I also saw, in his memory of falling, the immensely huge crystal he had shattered his tiny body on.
I have found my energy source to generate the Portal!
Right now, there was no way anyone, except me, could retrieve his remains. I needed my own body available to me, without any interference from him.
I opened the telepathic link on my side as wide as I could. I needed him to know that it was time for him to let go, that I could not collect his body and take it to his mother unless he allowed me to.
He understood. After receiving a mental hug from him, I felt a light electric shock passing into me as he left.
A small boy with dark hair and eyes was standing in front of me. His skin presented as very pale, like mine.
This was Daijon, as he had perceived himself for hundreds of Creata years. How lonely this child spirit must have been, stuck here in this place for so long.
I immediately brought my psychic shields up to safeguard my body from accidental or wilful takeover. I will not allow this sort of thing to happen again.
I had grown complacent in my day to day dealings with the Other Side, forgetting that I was as vulnerable as the next person where individual entities were concerned.
Daijon backed up a little way. He looked like the naughty little boy that he once was, being caught in one of his games.
I was unable to follow this new development. Quill touched my arm hesitantly.
“Han, are you with us?” he asked.
“Yes, all the way.”

Ω

Copyright © H Gibson Chronicles of Han Storm 2009-2015


For more information and excerpts visit www.chroniclesofhan.com

Saturday, 17 January 2015

A bit of murder on the sideline (Excerpt from The Chronicles of Han Storm Books)


Excerpt from The Chronicles of Han Storm, Preserving Creata

A bit of murder on the sideline


"
    Psychic weapons!
    Small wonder the Government wanted to control all of us.
    I lay thinking about the man who had killed Tucker. I had followed his life-memory before. I could find him if I concentrated.
    Relaxing, I slipped my spirit out of my body onto the plane of active entities. This place presented itself to me as a dark background with tiny pinpricks of light moving around within it. Every light represented a living entity with a distinct aura around each one.
    This was how I found 'missing' people. By concentrating and matching their vibrations to their auras, I could pick them out of the crowd.
    I orientated myself by concentrating again on the aura I had seen within the recordings. I knew the area where I should start seeking and the intuitive response to the 'feel' of the energy always helped me.
    I soon came across the group of entities I was looking for, the group where I would find Regent, my enemy.
    Found him!
    I forcefully bumped my enemy out of his body. He knew immediately who I was and what was happening.
    Untrained and with no natural psychic abilities, it was like taking sweets from a baby.
    I excused my stolen body from the card-game and went to a public comm in the passage.
    While dialling Morgan's private line, I ignored my enemy's silent screams.
    "Yes!" Morgan shouted.
    I did not waste time. Speaking with my enemy's voice, I gave Morgan the ultimatum.
    "I have him with me. I'll bring him to your yacht. One hour. Be there" I told Morgan, hanging up before he could say anything.
    Fear welled up in my enemy's body.
    **Keys?** I requested.
    **Right pocket** came the involuntary response.
    I went outside, ignoring questioning glances from colleagues. They knew better than to ask uninvited questions.
    **Vehicle?**
    **Yellow Mont-Marie.**
    This was probably too easy.
    I squashed any doubt.
    I found the topless sports-vehicle. It turned out to be a real joy to drive. A feeling of pride from the owner came through telepathically. It was followed with a feeling of regret.
    We made good time to the pier where the yachts were moored. We arrived early and I invaded my enemy's memories to confirm that his boss' vehicle was not there.
    Driving past the parking bays, I hid the little yellow vehicle behind some containers at the water's edge.
    Checking the firearm in the shoulder-holster, I thought it would do perfectly for my purposes. Using my enemy's memory, I found the right yacht.
    I expanded my senses to check that no-one was on board before hiding in the cabin.
    I did not have long to wait as Morgan walked into the cabin a few minutes later. He did not have his usual body-guard with him.
    It was a foolish thing to do. He had a habit of coming alone onto his yacht, which I was counting on.
    He was totally surprised to see Regent here. Surprise turned to fear when I lifted the fire-arm.
    It kicked into my palm, but the hand holding it was strong and the body well trained. The sound was deafening in the small area.
    Morgan dropped to his knees, a red patch forming over his heart.
    I was trained as an accurate shot in the Academy. My enemy never missed a target. We made a lethal combination.
    Once more the trigger was pulled.
    A second explosion and a second patch of blood on Morgan's chest.
    His body-guard should be on his way already.
    A third explosion and Mr Custos Morgan's body perished.
    I left the body of my enemy. He was done for anyway . . .                                 "

Copyright © H Gibson Chronicles of Han Storm. All rights reserved. 2009-2015

For more information and excerpts visit www.chroniclesofhan.com