Mana Pool Snippets - The Days After

One

The smell would fade and be replaced with Terra Firma and his own.

Homesickness sank in.

He took a few breaths, cracked his knuckles, and whispered, "Damn him."

All of his pent up rage burst out, taking control of his actions. Crates, tools, and other objects were thrown everywhere. He cursed repeatedly, blaming the Councilman, the missing client that offered the ill-fated job, and sometimes even Brill, his best friend and captain of Nova Company. He collapsed onto his knees, screaming, crying, and begging for the head-flipping nightmare to end.

*****

The fire in the rock circle crackled under the night sky, fed by bush branches and one tree that had fallen years before Jaruka arrived. The fire cast an orange glow on Jaruka and the dropship's dark chrome hull.

The fire pit was Jaruka's second form of therapy. The flames ignited pleasant memories that almost dulled his drunken hate.

"Throw that bastard into a black hole," Jaruka yelled into the night, his green, three-fingered hand clutched a bottle of brew. "Yeah. Maybe piss into the gravity wake. Ice spikes of piss through the bastard's little body. That'll teach that Gnogal to not mess with Halcunacs! Swish. Bang. Pow!" He kicked up dirt and then screamed at his ankle band. "You hear that, Benali!? Right into a croging black hole! And the same to you, Denverbay. Crog! You!"

He drank a large sum of brew from the bottle, made from the Endeavour's kitchen staff. It had been a gift, found amongst the crates along with a note saying, "Keep yourself together." Words only Brill would say. After three bottles of the brew, back in the comfort of his own Halcunac body without a DNA mask, he felt better. He slunk into the folding chair; his skindreads draped behind the chair, they were starting to grow out rough and rigid like pine tree bark. His tunic was splattered with brew stains, mostly from his own dribbles.

Jaruka let out a heavy chuckle. "Maybe a flaming bag of shit at his ship's bridge. Attract mud fleas. Yeah. Perfect!" Smiling, his chuckle turned into a heavy laugh.

His T31ZK plasma rifle was in his lap. He pawed at the rifle, feeling secure in his drunken state. His sword was left inside, there was no need for it. In the country he occupied the humans seemed to be more interested in guns. Jaruka wanted to sleep under the stars rather than inside the trashed dropship. He missed the Lunar Spear, the thought of it made his chest ache, and another sip of brew followed.

The idea of waiting for the next shipment of brew prodded at the sober portion of Jaruka's brain. It was aggravating to think of having to set rations and large gulps followed.

It was a starry Christmas night on Terra Firma. Humans and terrans were sleeping, or celebrating (if any of them could after the events of the Wave) with people. Jaruka could not care less about their holiday festivities, but he was slightly curious about how anyone could celebrate with all of the uncertain emotions swimming around. How the government would handle the terrans and their magic and if anyone would try to stop the changes and retain their humanity still remained to be seen.

A small sound jerked Jaruka in his chair, he wobbled as he stood up and some of the brew dribbled from his mouth. "Wha...Who's there? Griffon?" The hill beside the ship caught some of the fire's glow. "Are you human? Terran? Show yourself!" His rifle charged up and he aimed it at the cliff.

In a drunken haze Jaruka fired a green plasma ball from the barrel, blasting rock and dirt into a charred and molten mass. Burned oxygen blew into his face and he fired a couple more shots, just to be sure. The shots were bright enough to light up the hill in green light.