Iaian walked through the doorway into Jazmynde’s office and she nearly lept up and throttled him.
‘A dream,’ she thought. ‘I am here for answers, not wish-fulfillment.‘ That was the problem with lucid dreaming: it could too easily veer away into mayhem. The trick in controlling a dream memory is by not controlling it. Jazmynde remembered her teacher telling her, ‘inhabit the dream, don’t master it.‘
Continue reading “The Conqueror’s Witch – 8: The Magus – Part Two”
Jazmynde awoke with a start and looked around the room. No alarms were blaring, but something triggered her wake routine. A small jolt of adrenaline was pumped into her while she was sleeping; she could still feel the subcutaneous chemical burn.
Her eyes blearily adjusted to the dim amber lights, bathing the circular white room in a soft glow. She carefully removed the IV and sat up. she wiggled her toes, then feet, then legs, getting her blood moving again. There was no telling how long she was out.
Continue reading “The Conqueror’s Witch – 7: The Five of Cups – Disappointment”
Her ship twirled, giving the illusion of a light but comfortable gravity. It was a month-long trip out to Titan in a ship for one. The ship was huge by flight-founder standards, but tiny compared to what Jazmynde was used to. It would be a long and lonely flight out, with no Jupiter in the way to give her a boost in speed.
She would have to spend the time sleeping. Too much isolation would drive anyone insane, even people who appreciate their solitude.
Continue reading “The Conqueror’s Witch – 5: The Six of Swords – Science”
‘This is how most people die,’ Jazmynde thought. ‘They die badly.’
In her office, chairs were overturned and carbon scars on the paneling behind her desk showed the discharge where the invader tried to shoot through the portal, triggering an explosive decompression.
She crouched down next to the body. The woman was certainly dead. Her eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling and already drying out. She was dressed as a technician for the base – purple jumpsuit and comfortables shoes. On her hands, Jazmynde could see the faint outlines of tattoos. The woman’s face was bloodied and smashed. She lay there on her back, head pointed towards the open doorway, eyes staring off into eternity.
Jazmynde tutted quietly and started frisking the body.
Continue reading “The Conqueror’s Witch – 4: Seven of Swords – Futility”
“Here’s the problem with space,” Yumi said. “It’s big.”
“This again,” Jazmynde said, rolling her eyes.
The BIGGEST minutiae 