Hello Sparks!
Thanks so much my dear JW for your lovely suggestion. I love the name SPARKS, for you guys. You’re the random bright spots flying around that keep my embers burning. 😉🧡
Today we are back to the normal flow of my Bottled Embers. I hope you enjoyed the break, and thanks to a very satisfying show of support, thanks by thr way, I am pleased to be giving you a promise, of more Kindling in the not too distant future.
That’s it. No more intro for you. Still too busy. But - on with the story!
INDEX | Chapter 5 | Scenes 1 & 2 | Scenes 3 & 4 | Scenes 5 - 8 | Scenes 9 & 10 | Scenes 11 & 12 | Scenes 13 - 16 | Scene 17 | Next Scene →
Previously… With the support and encouragement of all our guys, Misty starts to settle in nicely, as Luke, on orders from the PG, embarks on the perilous quest to educate their feral child. Little do they know she is fighting her own inner battle.
“Four months of probation, eighteen weekly reports delivered personally to General Morgan by my own hand, never even an hour late, with not a single word of feedback - never mind thanks, and now, they are demanding we expand our curriculum to teach her language studies - as if it will make a difference!” I hear Luke’s voice pitched too high, through the door of his study, as he rants. “Are they ever going to get off my back?! How do they expect me to -” He cuts off abruptly for about five seconds. “But she won’t talk. Never, not a word!” Another three-second pause. “Don’t you think I would if I could?! It’s… she’s a - unique case.” He says almost sadly then remains quiet while the voice on the other side squeaks indistinctly.
I look back at the carving of the single crow staring straight down his beak at me as if to say, ‘How dare you disturb Luke’s work?’ It is more than a little unsettling. While Luke finishes off his call, if it was deliberate or if he just liked the picture. Who are you kidding everything with Luke is deliberate... For just a second, I wonder what Elle would think of it. She seemed mesmerized by the courting pair on his bedroom door. I hear more mumbling, he sounds tired, subdued. He says, “I’ll do what I can. Yes, Ma’am,” and ends the call.
I came to tell him that Elle has seemed off the past few mornings, but now I wonder if he has a bit much on his plate already. It’s the third time this week he’s been on the phone about General Morgan’s demands, but he doesn’t seem to be making any progress, and, predictably, no one wants to see him in person.
Just as I am about to knock, Luke calls me in. “Sorry, Son. I know you’ve been waiting.” He says sighing from his swiveling tan leather chair, his back to the window. I shrug and hold a vision of Elle’s uncharacteristic behavior in the front of my mind where he can easily pick it up.
“I’ve left her in the gym. She’s distracted like she was in the beginning. It feels a little like what happened before.” I admit, concerned.
“I know, but last time the first sign was fever and there isn’t any yet.” He grabs his latest scan data and frowns. He looks tired. I glance around at this room that has hardly changed since Tom and I were little and mark how long and narrow it seems. The overarching theme is neutral but with mixed accents in green, the effect would be soothing, if not for the random bursts of stark white. It matches his personality quite well.
“What was that about?” I ask as he scrolls through the months-old data, muttering at how he really should update them and keep a closer eye on her.
“I worry that we are going about this all the wrong way. Elle is obviously well-educated. I don’t know what more they expect me to do.” He sighs through clenched teeth.
* * *
Luke tries for another week, and Elle’s frustration and anger rise with every strained session, as does her detachment. A week into their fifth month Luke decides to stop pushing. She can obviously read, write, and count, and that’s enough for him.
Unfortunately, it isn't enough for General Morgan and the Planetary Guard.
“They are sending someone to supervise me!” Luke announces bitterly as I step into the library. He has a generous blaze going in the hearth, and it is uncomfortably warm, despite the blustering late autumn chill outside. I shrug off my jacket and take a seat.
“Do you know who it’ll be?” I ask the possibilities racing through my mind.
* * *
The Planetary Guard’s supervisor - Mr. Darrell - a skinny little bald Serp in urban camo fatigues, sits in a corner behind us, nodding silently as Luke sets his questions. His hairless snakelike features and cartoonishly large eyes make him a little difficult to look at directly. His miasmic telepathy hangs about him, almost crude compared to Luke’s subtle influence. He gives me the creeps. Elle doesn’t even look at him, though I can tell she’s on edge.
The first question is an advanced algebraic problem, then it’s a trigonometric equation. Luke branches off into physics, chemistry, biology, geography, and astronomy. All multiple choice or single word answers and every one correct.
Elle sits still in her seat, performing marvelously for over two hours, she’s engaged, almost excited, like it’s a race to see which runs out first, Luke’s questions or her correct answers, but after some time she starts to get fidgety and Luke changes his tactics, in order to prove his point to the spectator.
"What color are your eyes, Elle?" Luke asks her in a gentle tone.
She looks up at him, and then back down at her tab and hesitantly, writes, "Gray."
"What color is your hair."
"Black." A little more certainly.
"How old are you?"
She looks up at Luke, surprised, then writes, "Twelve."
"How long have you been staying here with us."
She looks at him questioningly, I can feel her tension rising. "Long time."
"Where were you before you came here?" She frowns, grinding her teeth softly.
Without taking her eyes off of Luke she writes in perfectly straight little letters: "Home." Underlining it and ending with a sharp full stop.
"Who are your parents?" Luke asks and I can feel him losing her. Something that looks like embarrassment floods her eyes and she puts down the stylus, looking down at her writing pad. There is a few second’s pause, then Mr Darrell takes over.
"On which planet were you born?" He hisses from his seat behind her. Her eyes flit backward but she doesn’t acknowledge him.
He repeats his question insistently, "Where were you born, Elle?" His power spreads out from him like a thick orange fog. I feel it snaking its way into my head as I inhale, drawing out a memory of Elle on the ship just before the needle pierces her neck. I immediately resist, closing the door on my memories like Luke taught Tom and me so many years ago. It is surprisingly difficult despite the coaching but I get it after a few more seconds. As my vision clears I imagine I see the orange smoke seems to be having difficulty getting to Elle. It hangs in the air, like a fog saturating everything but her, then I blink and it’s gone. The smoke it seems was an illusion.
Luke bends over beside her and whispers, “Try.”
She closes her eyes, picks up the stylus and writes slowly and untidily: "No."
"Why not?" Darrell asks. I can see the muscles in Elle’s taw tense as she grits her teeth, gripping the stylus tighter and pressing harder on the screen as she writes, "Lesser. Secret."
The Spectator still hasn't left his seat behind her. He asks irate, "Are the names of your parents also a secret?"
Elle only stares at the writing pad, breathing harshly.
“Write down something about yourself. Anything, how about your name?” Luke says softly.
She writes: "Elle," and looks away crossly.
"Is Elle your real name?" Darrell accuses.
Nothing.
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" He continues.
Nothing.
"How about writing about your hobbies? You like playing in Luke's gymnasium right? Why do you do that?"
Nothing again.
She looks at the writing pad, then back at Luke. He coaxes, “Just take a deep breath, pretend it’s a dictation, just like the one we did last week; only this time you make it up.”
She pleads desperately with her eyes for a way out but he doesn’t budge. She shakes her head and looks down again.
Mr. Darrell gets up and sidles over to her. “Do it. Write something. Your own words. You have proven that you can parrot information, now prove your own intelligence.” He demands.
She sits there looking fixedly at the writing pad, something other than desperation now mounting in her eyes. He moves around the desk to stand in front of her with his hands behind his back and says again: “Do it. Just a few words. Pick up the stylus and write.”
She picks it up, still refusing to acknowledge him, holding it so tightly it looks like it will snap. She writes one word, across half the pad: ‘No.’ Luke’s influence unfurls just a fraction of a second too late. Darrell slams his hands down hard on the desk. Elle looks him in the eyes with an expression of utter defiance and pushes to her feet.
“Write something,” he says, and Elle has had enough.
“No!” She screams sharply as she throws everything off her desk into the supervisor’s face and storms out of the Library leaving us all gaping after her.
Thanks for reading! I hope you’re enjoying following along with my Bottled Embers!
Next time… After Elle speaks her first lucid word, defying the Telepath sent to supervise Luke, the Planetary Guard’s interest in her is sharper than ever. What will they do now? And how will Luke and the guys protect her from the consequences?
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Until next time. 👋🏻
This inevitable path we are on makes me nervous. I don't want to see a blood bath and lots of collateral damage, and you have Elle showing remarkable restraint considering the PG creep in her face looking for a breaking point. She held it together with only a minor tantrum so far instead of cratering the whole room. I see PG guy with a satisfied smirk on his face. He has enough to justify pulling her away from Luke already I think. Will she stay around long enough for PG to try? With a loss of trust in Luke and Logan for letting this guy get at her, and the energy that's ready to overflow, I could see her breaking out and running again. I don't see anything stopping her now if she does. I must see this through but I really fear for some key characters! It's up to you Jenny.
I walked into the middle of a good story, now to find chapter 1... Thanks Jenny!