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Traitors

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Nobody had expected the Trees to be the ones to go over.

The Zedriygro had been pushing at the Atraoya borders for years now.  They had been sending in agents – some of them Human, but just as many Elf or Centaur or Animal expats who had been living either in Zedriyg or in neighboring Glasia, beyond the red sands, for years or even generations, having fled, one might assume, the Quartering that had caused this whole mess in the first place

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Leave it to the Professionals, a continuation for summer Patreon

This is written to @medic‘s very enthusiastic “More, more!” to yesterday’s No Rest on This Beach, a ficlet of summer, beaches, and a kaiju.  😎

 

So there we were, eight-foot Godzilla-like thing on the beach smashing sandcastles and throwing around policemen, and I, at least, had been planning for a nice quiet weekend blending in with the locals and watching the myth of the supernatural from a nice safe place.

I counted heads.  Not five, six of us.  Ten had come here, the ones that get called Amazons in deference to Diana, First of Us (never mind all the myths, she was First in all the ways that count).  The sixth, Youngest Sister, had decided to be Supergirl today.

Well, we all had to have our phases.  I gestured to Leda, she of the cornrow braids, and she stepped forward and pulled a long “prop” sword from her beach bag.

Jitsuko had a golden lasso that happened to be a very nice garrotte.

I had Thor’s hammer, or at least a replica of it.  Thor doesn’t like to part with his actual weapon.

We circled the lizard-thing slowly.

Nzingha spoke.  “Surrender now,” she told the thing.  We always told it to surrender.

They almost never did.  I could pretend I was sad about that, but you probably wouldn’t believe me, and I wouldn’t fault you one bit.

“Ladies,” the cop still standing tried. “I know it’s tempting to try to be Wonder Woman, but let’s leave this to the professionals.”

“Yes.” Sarojini told him.  She was young and proud, her smile a little sharper than those that had gotten a bit worn down, like me.  “Why don’t you leave it to the profes-oh!”

The fight was on.  The thing had grabbed for Jocasta. Jocasta was not that easy to grab, and that sword was no prop.

We did our best to make it look staged.  There was a risk in that – the thing had actually hurt the police officer and a bystander; someone could get angry at the convention.  We still wanted to play it off as a fake if we could. My sisters and I, we prefer to be as quiet as we can.

Even when godzilla shows up on the beach while we’re on vacation.

Godzilla had no intention of going quietly.  He ended up throwing Agaidika across the beach and into the ocean, but Agaidika takes to water like, well, a fish does, and splashed back up in quite a good mood and looking like the goddess that she was rising from the waves.

In the end, it took the replica of Thor’s hammer, the pretend-prop sword, and the garrote, and we ended up with a very subdued monster who was turning a bit grey around the gills.

We all held our breaths.  This is where the police could be a very big problem, if they wanted to.

The oldest officer, a senior who had hurried onto the scene while we fought, took a look at the creature – clearly, by this point, inhuman, and then looked at all of us, superhero swimsuits and prop weapons.

“Well done, sisters.”  She saluted us, and we saluted her back.  It’s always good to have a cousin on the local police force, after all, and there was more than one reason we liked this convention.

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When the Hills Quake – a story of tootplanets for Patreon

This story fits in my Toot Planet setting, although it is considerably longer than many of the “tootfics” I have written for it, a tootfic being a fiction of 500 or fewer characters. 

You can see many of those tootplanet microfics here, and the hashtag, which began with Catterfly’s planetary art, here.

That being said, here’s the story. 

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Explorer’s Log, Planet 7-3-3

(Planetary Date 4 days)

We landed harder than planned but not quite a crash, after an EMP on the way in — or something similar enough that the effects appear identical — fried every piece of electronics not in deep storage.  Landed hard but not a crash-landing; the shuttle is intact, if unflyable, and so’s the team.

The ship will be back around in five years for us, but I’m assuming that we are stranded here.  The anomalies around this planet make a lot more sense when you consider the EMP-like pulse, and I fear the ship may never find us. Continue reading