Category: BC

Ed note: The following bits and pieces surfaced on the flight yesterday. They may or may not have happened in the story. The image is what I call “Place Your Bets,” an allusion to which bits below you think really happened.

Internal Affairs visited Cait. They wanted to know where John was. Said something about a chip.

Mairi finds Trev. He’s a mess. Camera pans away with Mairi holding Trev in her arms like a frightened child, her hair blowing in the wind. She is wearing a long pleated skirt with a mustard colored blouse offsetting her auburn locks.

Dr. X discovers that Châtelaine’s undergo three months of training to communicate with their eyes.

The signal Rog recognizes comes from Kyra’s Zing Tao ring.

Taren is forced to destroy the ring, and under duress has to do it in front of Kyra.

This unleashes a side of Kyra never seen and she destroys the entire compound.

When no one is left alive, she collapses in a heap as a light is seen around her–Kieran.

When Mairi finds Trev he has blood caked on his upper lip, his eyes stare unblinking, lifeless; he can’t form coherent words or thoughts. His body feels strangely cold and he trembles uncontrollably.

Mairi puts hands on his head, closes her eyes and has flashes of his mind. She cries, something a hardened Châtelaine would never do.

Kyra spares Taren, barely. The number of dead in the compound count into the hundreds as she moved of body and mind.

Von said it was the most terrifying and beautiful birth he had ever seen.

Emy couldn’t talk about what she saw for months.

Mairi feels guilt at encouraging Trev to sow his oats.

BC is pissed Lil’ let Trev go and not kill him.

Kieran holds Kyra as Mairi holds Trev–tells her he has someone that wants to say hello, someone that did not take the last ship out of dodge.

John writes in his journal that “After the Kyra Incident” he is losing his moral compass with Cait.

Mairi looks to the heavens and cries out, “My Janus, what have they done to you.” Tears streak down her cheeks and she looks back down at Trev’s blank stare and through her tears she utters, “My dear child.” She wipes his hair away and shaking her head says, “How will you ever forgive me?” She is rocking back and forth as a mother might rock a frightened child to sleep.


Kieran says she can’t directly connect with him but that he can act as a conduit.

Message from Papa: “We can still get there from here.”

Von: (Looks at Rog) I hope you brought some snoot?
Rog: I did.
Von: Good Hynerian.
Rog: I drank it–all.
Von: (deadpans)
Rog: But I have a plan.
Von: Yeah?
Rog: Looks at John.
John: What?
Von and Rog: (Start laughing)

I Love You, I’ll Kill You by Enigma is the Soundtrack for “The Kyra Incident.”

Interview from Earth:

T: Can you explain what happened?

K: Taren’s hammer was like a pickaxe. The down stroke to Papa’s ring broke, and I shiott you not, to my mind’s eye, I saw it as clear as day, but broke layer upon layer of inhibition and doubt while harnessing a synergistic melding of practice, theory and application that took years of pieces and in an instant painted, how would you say it, a Mona Lisa.

T: Wow.

K: Don’t ever say that word again in response.

T: Okay.

K: (starts laughing) I’m just shiotting you. Bring more whiskey–nine glasses.

T: (just smiles)


Lil’ Twilight administered the Waters of Divine Decadence herself. Trev was never the same.

Backstory: (as far as we know)

Ancient landing pads on a distant and remote moon servicing the local shipping population, quite an unruly clientele, especially with Big Cephelus lording over the local whoring trade and none the too happy with business of late.

Lil’ Twilight, his main ho, and, to be fair, a technician turned artisan in the trade of warm commerce, charged twice the going rate and still made more money in tips than BC was earning off her keep. And there was the rub.

So one day, BC called Lil’ into his office, the one overlooking the main pad, so he could keep an eye on local traffic. His desk faced the main window and he had Lil’ sit on the sofa before him. She, for the occasion no less, wore illuminated destearian glass garments, which left nothing and everything to the imagination.

Well, Lil’ jingled over to BC’s desk, reached into her incandescent pocket and tossed a credit chip onto his desk.

“What’s this,” he frowned.

“Pick it up.” Lil’ leaned over, her ample amplitude of creamy delectation pointing the way.



“Where did you get this?”

“A poor innocent little soul. Name is Trevor–an off worlder. Seems he was so discombobulated, he left it behind.”

BC worked the chip between his fingers back and forth and forth and back, his eyes ablaze with a dull gleam just short of malicious, more akin to lust than greed; yet, with BC, where one began and the other ended no one could say, or perhaps no one had the gonads to say. Either way, to say he was a biomorph of lustful greed or greedful lust would be to state a fact known to all and to all agreed.

“Come round the desk Lil’. I think you need to show me the proper appreciation for taking such an instrument of unrighteous seduction from your weak and feckless hands. Do you have any idea how much trouble I’m about to save you?”

Lil’ moved around the desk, her eyes dropping in sync with her knees. “BC, darlin’, I’m gonna show you how much I appreciate your burdensome and ever faithful endeavors to always look out for my best interest.”

BC let out an audible sigh as Lil’ traced her perfectly manicured nails along the top of his thighs.

With a blink of his eyes, he closed the blinds and turned on his digicorder. Lil was worth more than the occasion.

Lil’s fingers danced in unison and BC’s knees parted. She smiled and rolled her eyes to half moons, just a glint of light catching the corners like the diamonds on BC’s thick finger.

Lil’ was a master of playful anticipation, of allowing the client’s imagination to do what she never could, never would. Her magic worked in the spaces between the notes, as she like to say, and this, in her mind, is what separated her from all the rest.

“Feeling tumid I see,” she purred with a voice smooth as her honeyed scarlet lips. “Or is that turgid and tumid?”

BC sighed with heavy lids, his eyes just slits.

Lil’s nail converged, lightly upon bulging custom silk, a velvet hammer of female delight, or so she would argue.

Categories: Story, Trev, Lil’ Twilight, BC, Sketches