Spark of Colour

Wrist was hurting too much to write yesterday. Trying to make up for it now. Unfortunately, in an hour I’ve an appt to get the stitches out. If that re-traumatizes me I might have to look into something like Dragon s/w for voice-to-text. I’m horrified by the idea of not being able to tell stories.

It’s been pointed about to me that while I did okay describing Colour when she was introduced, I glossed Aurie too much. Part of that is the nature of these raw, unedited installments; to get a story out in the most bare-bones way possible. Still, I’ve seen the young-ish man Aurie is about to meet in Canso. I can use him to talk about her. Given the free-wheeling, wide-open natures of Demis, esp. in the imperium, I have certain doubts about the princess’ ability to keep her light under a bushel basket.

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

“If you show me that remote,” Colour volunteered, “I can opaque these walls…”

She instantly knew something had changed.  Hartmann leaned away from her.

“We never turn aside from facts.” Her tone was back to how she talked to her men, even if her eyes were still a little wet.  She looked out at the ice.  “And you are right:  if we expect humans to accept rule by us Demis, we, in turn, must trust the Machines’ analysis.”

Aurelia gave Colour a sidelong glance as she let a smile creep back onto her face.

“I forgot myself for a moment.  Thank you for reminding me, Friend.”

“Reminding you who you are or what you are?” Colour teased.

“Yes.  Ah, we’re turning northeast.  We’ll sit while I sound you on what I want to do next…”

Jansen noted that Hartmann’s eyes constantly looked about, mostly at the St. Lawrence Seaway and the towns there on their right, while she talked.  Labrador had no interest for her and Newfoundland not much more; they would just do a fly-over.

“Nova Scotia is the key to this puzzle,” the princess admitted.  “With them in my pocket, New Brunswick will have to come over, too.  And the surrounds of Maine and the entire Northern Federation.  And, yes, if you want to tell this to your Council, I don’t care.  I care about you.  I care about the imperium.”

“Which,” Colour said in a soft voice, still taken aback to be in this amazing person’s confidence, “you say is your children and grandchildren.  So, we’ll be putting down in Halifax?”

Aurelia gave her a look as they flew out over the Atlantic.  Anticosti Island was a blur under them.  Jansen felt a slight deceleration coming up on Newfoundland.

“We will not!” she laughed.  “I am not my aunt to make a splash in a craft such as this.  It could scare people.  No, my main interest is about a hundred miles west.  The tiny village of Canso.  And their now barely used spaceport.  Facilities such as that need clever people.  I want to talk to them.”

“So,” Colour started putting the bits together, “we’ll hide Lenore somewhere and just walk in?  Total outsiders?  And one with a legionary uniform?”

“I’ve another set of clothes onboard,” Aurelia instantly countered.  “We’re backpacking.  Tourists.  I’m an exchange student from Texas and you’re my distant relative from the NorFed, putting up with me!”

“I just got promoted from friend to family?” Colour smiled.  “And the imperial family, no less!”

“Nope, sorry to disappoint,” Hartmann replied, looking at the island’s ports while the ship described an arc to the south and then west, slowing even more.  “I’m Aurie Hardt, from Austin.  I’ve been there enough to bee-ess my way through if we happen to encounter someone else who has, too.”

“Captain Abel?” Colour saw the little flash of gold in her eyes.  “You know our overall destination.  I seek your input about a parking spot.  Okay, sure.”

“Your head can act like a radio?” Jansen had seen it before but was still surprised. 

“In signal, yes.  Within a certain distance to another Demi or touching them?  That works, too.” The princess touched the back of her friend’s hand.  The human jerked it back with a small cry.

“Doesn’t work with humans, though,” she apologized.  “Your nervous system just cannot handle the data load.”

“Well, pardon me!” Colour said, holding her smarting hand.

“You are what you are,” Aurelia shrugged, “and I’m me.  Ah.  Seems we have a spot to set down.  Gotta love life in the legions:  looks like a six-mile ruck to Canso.”

“If my weeks with you have taught me anything, General, is how to keep up,” said in a mocking tone.

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