Chapter 13 Teaser, #2
08-26-2003, 01:53 PM (This post was last modified: 10-24-2017, 12:59 PM by Bob Schroeck.)
08-26-2003, 01:53 PM (This post was last modified: 10-24-2017, 12:59 PM by Bob Schroeck.)
Daniel Ohara lifted the handset to his ear and punched in a four-
digit sequence. Obediently, a ring tone began to sound.
He resisted the urge to mimic the 20th-Century comedienne who had
occasionally portrayed an obnoxious telephone operator. His
dignity had already suffered enough, and there was no need to
wound it further.
The ringing suddenly cut off and a tired-sounding voice blurted
"Yo?" into his ear.
"'Craig'," Ohara said with elaborate patience. "We had another
demonstration of your power scheduled for, oh... right *now*."
"Huh? We did?" Through the phone line came the mixed sounds of
a keyboard clicking and papers shuffling. "Oh, damn, we did.
'Kay, I'll be right there. Sorry."
The other end hung up before Ohara could add anything of his own.
He returned the handset to its cradle and looked up at Hiroe and
Illya. "He'll be here any..."
The outer door to the testing chamber flew open with a slam. "I'm
here, I'm here. Let the bells ring out and the banners fly," a
lackluster voice announced with a notable dearth of enthusiasm.
"...minute," Ohara concluded. Hiroe snickered and Illya
chuckled, to both Daniel and Tony's annoyance. He raised his
voice. "We're in here, 'Craig'."
Douglas Sangnoir stumbled into the control booth facing the
isolation chamber, leaned against the doorjamb, and ran a hand
through his short blond hair. "Sorry I'm late. I've been a
little out of it today."
"We know," Illya replied. "Are most interesting articles on
today's newspages."
"Joy," Sangnoir muttered as Ohara studied him. Not much had
changed since their encounter earlier in the day. For the first
time in their acquaintance, the extradimensional was not crisply
alert and preternaturally graceful. Instead, he resembled a man
who had just come out the back end of a weeklong bender and
wasn't yet sure whether or not he had survived the experience.
"You look *horrible*," Hiroe blurted out. She leapt from her
seat to seize Sangnoir by the arm. "You come here and sit down.
Last night must have been simply *awful* for you." She forced
the younger man down into the chair she had occupied as he tried
to mumble thanks.
"Ah. I see Hiroe's maternal streak has resurfaced." Tony,
impeccable in his Italian suit, had arrived, sarcasm in hand.
"No need to be quite so snide," Hiroe growled.
"All right, people," Daniel jumped in before the level of
interpersonal friction could rise any further, "let's get
started."
As agreement circled the room, Sangnoir focused slightly bleary
eyes on him and asked, "Okay, what do you want me to do?"
Ohara glanced at his people. In the wake of the morning's news,
a flurry of email memos had quickly determined the general nature
of today's tests.
"Well," Hiroe coughed and began. "We..."
"We've seen you do a state transform on your own body's matter,"
Tony interrupted. "We want to see something like the papers said
you did last night -- creating matter out of nothing."
"But we'd rather you didn't produce any... people," Hiroe hurried
to add, shooting a glare at Tony. "Something *inanimate* would
probably be better for all concerned."
"Hm." He pretended to ponder this. "So I suppose large,
dangerous animals are also out?"
Tony glared at him. "Yes," he barked.
"Pity, that." Sangnoir smiled sweetly.
"Well, you're in a hostile mood today," Ohara dryly noted.
"I think I have the right to be," Sangnoir snapped. "In the past
twenty-four hours I've played bait for a dozen combat boomers,
almost got into a screaming match with the white Knight Saber,
berserked and nearly killed the *pink* Saber, had my emotions
royally yanked around, gotten the shit kicked out of me, and been
shot three times -- <on the ceiling if you want me, twice on the
pipe if the answer is no>..." he suddenly warbled in English.
Then he winced and rubbed his temples. "Owitch. Not to mention
that I have the reaction hangover from Hell because I overdid it
with my magegift, *plus* I got thoroughly dressed down by an
avatar of my C.O. from back home." He stared with bleary eyes at
Ohara as everyone around the table blinked at the summary. "If
you can at all avoid it, *never* go to work for a god."
"I don't intend to," Ohara responded wryly.
"Good. Because they show up in the damnedest places to make your
life miserable, whether you're on duty or not." Sangnoir sighed,
rubbed his temples for a moment longer, then looked up and around
the table. "Okay, you want a solid energy projection, something
inanimate. I suppose you need me stripped to my skivvies again
for the sensors and whatnot."
"I'm sorry, but, well, yes," Hiroe stammered. *Hiroe actually
looks embarrassed,* Ohara noted with some small, private
amusement.
Sangnoir stood and strode to the entrance of the isolation room,
unbuttoning his shirt as he did. "It's a good thing I remembered
what my mom always used to say: 'Always put on clean underwear
in case you unexpectedly have to demonstrate your metagift to a
bunch of voyeuristic physicists.'"
"Like hell his mother said that," Tony muttered as Illya
chuckled.
"Did you leave your sense of humor in your other suit today,
Tony?" Hiroe hissed at him.
"The guy gets on my nerves, what can I say?" he growled back.
"I love you, too, Tonykins," Sangnoir called from the chamber as
he peeled off his jeans. Hiroe tittered behind her hand and
Illya simply smirked as Tony fumed.
"Can we please try to approximate a professional atmosphere
here?" Ohara felt like rubbing his own temples. Already.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
digit sequence. Obediently, a ring tone began to sound.
He resisted the urge to mimic the 20th-Century comedienne who had
occasionally portrayed an obnoxious telephone operator. His
dignity had already suffered enough, and there was no need to
wound it further.
The ringing suddenly cut off and a tired-sounding voice blurted
"Yo?" into his ear.
"'Craig'," Ohara said with elaborate patience. "We had another
demonstration of your power scheduled for, oh... right *now*."
"Huh? We did?" Through the phone line came the mixed sounds of
a keyboard clicking and papers shuffling. "Oh, damn, we did.
'Kay, I'll be right there. Sorry."
The other end hung up before Ohara could add anything of his own.
He returned the handset to its cradle and looked up at Hiroe and
Illya. "He'll be here any..."
The outer door to the testing chamber flew open with a slam. "I'm
here, I'm here. Let the bells ring out and the banners fly," a
lackluster voice announced with a notable dearth of enthusiasm.
"...minute," Ohara concluded. Hiroe snickered and Illya
chuckled, to both Daniel and Tony's annoyance. He raised his
voice. "We're in here, 'Craig'."
Douglas Sangnoir stumbled into the control booth facing the
isolation chamber, leaned against the doorjamb, and ran a hand
through his short blond hair. "Sorry I'm late. I've been a
little out of it today."
"We know," Illya replied. "Are most interesting articles on
today's newspages."
"Joy," Sangnoir muttered as Ohara studied him. Not much had
changed since their encounter earlier in the day. For the first
time in their acquaintance, the extradimensional was not crisply
alert and preternaturally graceful. Instead, he resembled a man
who had just come out the back end of a weeklong bender and
wasn't yet sure whether or not he had survived the experience.
"You look *horrible*," Hiroe blurted out. She leapt from her
seat to seize Sangnoir by the arm. "You come here and sit down.
Last night must have been simply *awful* for you." She forced
the younger man down into the chair she had occupied as he tried
to mumble thanks.
"Ah. I see Hiroe's maternal streak has resurfaced." Tony,
impeccable in his Italian suit, had arrived, sarcasm in hand.
"No need to be quite so snide," Hiroe growled.
"All right, people," Daniel jumped in before the level of
interpersonal friction could rise any further, "let's get
started."
As agreement circled the room, Sangnoir focused slightly bleary
eyes on him and asked, "Okay, what do you want me to do?"
Ohara glanced at his people. In the wake of the morning's news,
a flurry of email memos had quickly determined the general nature
of today's tests.
"Well," Hiroe coughed and began. "We..."
"We've seen you do a state transform on your own body's matter,"
Tony interrupted. "We want to see something like the papers said
you did last night -- creating matter out of nothing."
"But we'd rather you didn't produce any... people," Hiroe hurried
to add, shooting a glare at Tony. "Something *inanimate* would
probably be better for all concerned."
"Hm." He pretended to ponder this. "So I suppose large,
dangerous animals are also out?"
Tony glared at him. "Yes," he barked.
"Pity, that." Sangnoir smiled sweetly.
"Well, you're in a hostile mood today," Ohara dryly noted.
"I think I have the right to be," Sangnoir snapped. "In the past
twenty-four hours I've played bait for a dozen combat boomers,
almost got into a screaming match with the white Knight Saber,
berserked and nearly killed the *pink* Saber, had my emotions
royally yanked around, gotten the shit kicked out of me, and been
shot three times -- <on the ceiling if you want me, twice on the
pipe if the answer is no>..." he suddenly warbled in English.
Then he winced and rubbed his temples. "Owitch. Not to mention
that I have the reaction hangover from Hell because I overdid it
with my magegift, *plus* I got thoroughly dressed down by an
avatar of my C.O. from back home." He stared with bleary eyes at
Ohara as everyone around the table blinked at the summary. "If
you can at all avoid it, *never* go to work for a god."
"I don't intend to," Ohara responded wryly.
"Good. Because they show up in the damnedest places to make your
life miserable, whether you're on duty or not." Sangnoir sighed,
rubbed his temples for a moment longer, then looked up and around
the table. "Okay, you want a solid energy projection, something
inanimate. I suppose you need me stripped to my skivvies again
for the sensors and whatnot."
"I'm sorry, but, well, yes," Hiroe stammered. *Hiroe actually
looks embarrassed,* Ohara noted with some small, private
amusement.
Sangnoir stood and strode to the entrance of the isolation room,
unbuttoning his shirt as he did. "It's a good thing I remembered
what my mom always used to say: 'Always put on clean underwear
in case you unexpectedly have to demonstrate your metagift to a
bunch of voyeuristic physicists.'"
"Like hell his mother said that," Tony muttered as Illya
chuckled.
"Did you leave your sense of humor in your other suit today,
Tony?" Hiroe hissed at him.
"The guy gets on my nerves, what can I say?" he growled back.
"I love you, too, Tonykins," Sangnoir called from the chamber as
he peeled off his jeans. Hiroe tittered behind her hand and
Illya simply smirked as Tony fumed.
"Can we please try to approximate a professional atmosphere
here?" Ohara felt like rubbing his own temples. Already.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
"I was an Otaku before those kids came along and changed the meaning of the word."