This is a boy’s adventure tale.
But this is not a boy’s adventure tale prepared by a stuffy old man in a tweed jacket with elbow patches. This is the sort of story that a boy might imagine for himself, filled with action, mystery, a red-hot space queen, and nary a whiff of precious moral instruction.
Well, maybe there is some moral instruction. But this is Reversed Black Maria. Nothing is as it seems, and the thread is very fine, indeed.
A Reversed Black Maria Novelette in Multiple Parts
After a heavy meal and heavier conversation, Oskar went outside to clear his mind. The weather was gorgeous, and the view of the old city from his seat on the front steps was tremendous. A great ruby-red cloud shrouded the distant Oslofjord, and bright squadrons of terns swooped and banked among the fake chimney pots.
As far as Oskar was concerned, it was a study in monotony.
No one lived on Old Earth for excitement. It was the safest world in the galaxy, a place of high culture, middling expectations, and low energy. By design, nothing ever happened here. It was no world for a restless young man.
It’s enough to make you wish for some trouble, Oskar thought. It seemed that everyone else had risen above the ordinary. Pappa had lived more in his glorious moment of peril above Rift Beta Niner than Oskar could hope to in a lifetime. Aunt Karina had faced down the dreaded Mad Emperor himself, and become a boon companion to the most notorious woman in the galaxy.
Then, there was Inna. The discussion of her alleged godhood had sailed over Oskar’s head. She adamantly declaimed any number of strange attributes, most especially immanence. Nor was she inerrant—though she and Aunt Karina differed on that point—or any of the “omni” words. All in all, Inna sounded like a most inadequate goddess. But she was still divine enough to inspire the loyalty of the Regents of Eisenhimmel, and inflame the legions of Arzenekoi. Oskar was almost entirely skeptical. But the fact remained that he was in the company of galaxy-shaking giants, and had not a single traveler’s tale to his young name. The unfairness of it gnawed his guts.
So lost in thought was Oskar that he failed to notice the front door was open until Little Nils ran by. He tripped over the lip of the top step and tumbled head over heels down the long flight of stairs. The house’s safety system detected his fall. Airbags deployed on the landing below, but none shielded Hendrik’s space junk planters. Nils’ head struck one with a meaty crunch, and left behind a thick smear of blood.
Oskar screamed.
Aunt Karina burst forth from the house. “What’s the matter?”
“He fell! I’m sorry! I couldn’t catch him in time!” Oskar stammered, pointing toward the child’s body.
“He’s fine,” his aunt said.
Oskar looked again. Nils was on his feet and smiling. His head wound was gone. He darted up the stairs, shot between Oskar and his aunt, and disappeared into the house.
“See?” Aunt Karina said.
“But I saw him fall! That’s his blood!”
Aunt Karina descended the steps, stepping gingerly over the retracting airbags. When she reached the landing, she wiped up Nil’s blood with her sleeve. She inspected her work, mopped up a few errant splatters, and sat down heavily on the bottom step. Oskar joined her, hardly knowing what to think.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said quietly. “Nils is in his running with scissors phase. I should have warned you.”
“Tante, I’m not going crazy, am I? That was his blood. Are you sure he’s alright?”
It was a while before his aunt answered. “Oskar, he’s travelled with me to some of the most dangerous places in the galaxy. This isn’t the first time he’s killed himself. He heals instantly every time.”
Oskar studied her elfin face for a sign that she was joking, but her expression was as deadly serious as an Arzenekoi suicide squad. “I believe you, Tante,” Oskar offered, though he was by no means sure he did. “How did he get that way?”
“We don’t know, either about that, or about his eyes. He was born that way. I can’t say it surprised me, though. Oskar, nothing is what we believed it to be. This thing we call reality? It’s a pasteboard façade. I’ve seen behind it. Hell, I live behind it, with the greedy goddess of chaos for company! I envy you. What I wouldn’t give to live at the end of a quiet street in a boring town on Old Earth!”
“Why don’t you?”
“I can’t, Oskar. I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m hopelessly entangled in Inna’s fate. Where it leads I must go, for good or ill. But that reminds me. Fool that he is, Pappa invited Inna on a tour of the old city tomorrow. She accepted, of course. She’s requested our company. We’re spending the night here, and so are you. You won’t be able to pass the police cordon.”
“I’d love to come along, Tante, but tomorrow is a class day. The Provost won’t permit it.”
Aunt Karina rolled her eyes. “Use your head, Oskar. You’re in the company of the Empress. Her visit is no longer secret from the authorities, and they’re nervous. Nordrom and Novarus are under a ‘unspecified civil emergency’. You’re stuck with us. Prepare to do things Inna’s way for a while, and be debriefed afterwards.”
“Will I ever be able to go home?” Oskar asked, only half-joking.
“Trust me, you only get off this ride when it’s over.”
Aunt Karina pulled her sweater tightly around her shoulders. “I’m going in. I forgot how cold it can get in the evening. Grab a drink and join us fireside. Pappa will be talkative, I’m sure.”
The evening passed without further incident. Just as Aunt Karina had warned, Farfar’s war stories dominated the fireside chat. To Oskar’s secret disappointment, a liter of vodka and a veritable ocean of brandy couldn’t put a dent in Inna’s polite calm. When it became clear that no more hijinks were forthcoming, Oskar excused himself and climbed to the tiny guest room in the loft.
Sleep eluded him. The longer Oskar lay on the narrow little bed, the less tired he was. After an hour or so crawled by without Hypnos so much as peeking over the sill of his tiny window, he gave up. There was a lavatory on the second floor. He went to it in search of a drink.
The house was dark and quiet. Oskar was finishing up when he heard hushed voices below. Two women were talking. Moving stealthily, he descended the stairs until he could make out what was being said. A thrill went through him when he discovered the speakers were his Aunt Karina and Raina, and the conversation, though quiet, was heated.
“...I’m serious, Inna. Leave Oskar alone. What the hell has gotten into you?”
“Why so upset? I like him, and decided to have a little harmless fun. What’s the matter with that?”
“If you were anybody else I wouldn’t care. But you are you, with all that entails. I want my nephew to stay the way he his, thank you very much. Please promise me that you’ll cool it tomorrow.”
“If by that, you mean not making a man of him on some shady bench, I promise. But I still plan on having a good time.”
“If by that, you mean being an insufferable tease, I’m sure you will,” Aunt Karina mocked. “At least do me the favor of wearing pants. It’s chilly here. Pants are warm, loose ones doubly so.”
“My, aren’t you a wet blanket? What happened to that crazy girl who spent a week camping in the nude beneath the River of Fire?
“My family wasn’t involved, that’s what!”
Oskar blushed hot. It was simultaneously uncomfortable and hilarious to imagine his aunt cavorting in the nude. The sound of movement below jolted him into action. He ducked into the bathroom just in time to avoid Aunt Karina. He waited there until he heard her bedroom door click shut. But as soon as he emerged from his hiding place, Inna called softly from below.
“Come down, Oskar. I know you’re there.”
In a swirl of anticipation, he descended the stairs. He turned the corner, and blushed afresh. Inna lounged on one of the birch benches in the dining nook, wearing nothing but a thin robe of gorgeous purple silk. She waggled a jigger glass. “Nightcap?”
“Please, thanks.” He slid onto the opposite bench as she mixed his drink. “How did you know I was up there?”
“I heard you,” she said, pushing the glass to him.
“How did you know it was me?”
“I can pick out every person in this house by their sounds. I can usually tell what they are doing, too.”
Oskar blinked. “Can you tell what Pappa is doing?”
Inna smirked. “That's easy. I believe that he and your grandmother are blowing off a little steam,” she said conspiratorially.
Oskar flamed with embarrassment. “Are they really..?”
“Hard and fast. Can’t you hear their bed?”
Though he strained with all his might, the only thing Oskar could hear was the faint burbling of the water heater in the closet.
Inna raised her glass. “To Hendrik Winter, always the conqueror, never the conquered. May his yarns never fray,” she said, and slammed her drink back.
Oskar did the same, and gagged. He’d never tasted a beverage this strong before. He bravely swallowed it, and it pooled into a smoldering lump in his gut.
Raina smiled knowingly. “That was four shots, no base. You want a chaser?”
“No thanks, I’m good. Did Aunt Karina really do what you said?”
“That was the least of it. She’d received the Flower of Life and was horny as an overclocked sexbot. She and her partner conceived Nils that week, but his paternity was just a lucky coincidence.”
Oskar nodded slowly. Inna must have read his thoughts in his expression. “I heard what happened,” she said.
“Aunt Karina says Nils is indestructible. What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. I’ll show you, if you promise not to freak out.”
He nodded eagerly. “I promise. No freakout.”
Inna held up her empty highball glass and squeezed. There was a sharp pop, and the glass spiderwebbed with cracks. She carefully teased loose a large, jagged fragment. With no preamble, she jammed it into the meat of her palm. Blood squirted onto the tabletop. Oskar flinched back in horror.
There was no hint of pain in Inna’s voice. “No trick, see? Pull it out.”
Fighting the urge to vomit, he gingerly grasped the fragment. It was wedged deep, but when he tugged it slid free with a slurp. Inna’s wound instantly snapped shut. She licked off the blood and presented her hand. It was uninjured.
“Herregut!” Oskar whispered.
Inna blotted the blood from the table with her napkin. “What do you think?” she asked.
“That’s amazing.”
“It’s magic.”
“Magic?” Oskar said dubiously.
“You don’t believe in magic?”
“Of course not!” Oskar exclaimed. But even as he spoke, his eyes fell on the glass shard in his hand. Dark droplets glistened in the glow of the kitchen lights. A strange thirst seized him. Moving as if he was in a dream, he raised the bloody fragment to his mouth.
A vanishing instant before her blood touched his lips, Inna snatched it away.
Oskar cringed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me,” he stammered.
“It was my fault. I got sloppy. It’s good I caught you in time.”
“You mean this has happened before?”
“Yes. More than once.”
Oskar nodded woodenly. The alcohol was kicking in, but no buzz could explain what just happened.
Inna sensed the change in his mood. “You should try to get some rest. Hendrik wants to leave at oh-dark-hundred.”
“What about you?”
“I don’t sleep unless I’m bored. It’s peaceful at night. I enjoy relaxing and listening to the night sounds. Like Poe, I hear much in heaven and on Earth.”
The reference was familiar to Oskar. “What do you hear in hell?”
Her nose wrinkled. “More than I’d like. But the damned are quiet tonight.”
There was no possible rejoinder for that. Oskar merely nodded. “Thank you,” he said as he rose to his feet.
Inna cocked her head. “What for?”
“For treating me like I count. You’re the God Empress. You could have ignored me, or squashed me like a bug, but you didn’t.”
“Everyone counts. But the fearless earn respect, and you’ve earned mine. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry. I was in a playful mood, and I play rough.”
“Oh, no, Inna! It was fun,” Oskar replied, though she had made him most uncomfortable.
“In that case, I’m looking forward to spending tomorrow with you. Goodnight, Oskar Winter.” She favored him with a last, knee-weakening smile.
Oskar ignored his instincts, and retired.
Back in the solitude of his bedroom, Oskar withdrew a bit of crumpled paper from his pocket. It was Inna’s forgotten napkin. She’d fumbled it when she lunged for the shard, and Oskar had pocketed it.
He put it to his lips. A few runny drops of blood remained in the deepest folds of the paper. He lapped it up hungrily. Her savor sizzled on his tongue for a lingering moment before he swallowed.
Nothing happened.
Immediately, Oskar felt almightily foolish. What was I thinking? he raged at himself. His desire was suddenly strange, like an alien impulse imposed onto him from outside. He shuddered, and stuffed the napkin deep into his wastepaper basket. He threw himself on the little bed, and after a long interval of wrestling with his unquiet thoughts, he finally fell asleep.
He awoke deep in the small hours before dawn. The house was quiet. He tried to imagine what sounds unheard by mortals might be reaching Inna’s ears in the long Scandinavian night. While he ruminated, he became aware of a faint grey glow, a lambent light illuminating the close, slanted ceiling over the bed.
He sat up. The only light in his room came from outside. When he checked the little window, he was surprised to see a small cloud of wan light hanging over the skyline. But when he moved, it moved.
The light was coming from him.
Oskar focused on his reflection in the window. There glowed on his forehead an unfamiliar sigil, arcane yet terrifyingly suggestive.
Oskar broke into a cold sweat. Whatever the mark was—alien sickness or goddess magic—it could only be the fruit of Inna’s blood. What did it mean? Frantic, he mopped his brow. When he finished, the sign was gone. His reflection was a dark shadow on the glass, just as it should be at this ungodly hour.
Oskar let out a sigh of relief. It must have been a dream, he decided. He settler back on his mattress, and didn't stir until morning.
Next update coming Feb 7.
