On Vaudia 11

The conversation ran the gamut from the erratic to the éclat

Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.

Cyne’s brain ached. Ticks remained in her first cycle on Vaudia 11 and she wanted to collapse in her bunk. Duty kept her the drift cursed molded chair, pad resting across her legs, and a polite smile locked in place.

Terey, her assigned patient, paced beyond the boundary words pouring from him. Sometimes he noted her, drawing Cyne into the conversation, but more often he rambled lost in conversations ran the gamut from the erratic to the éclat.

Cyne’s notes and observations accounted for eight phases they’d been briefed on during transit. Just the final phase left. Lights, let him hold until my cycle’s over.

The torrent of words cut off. Terey halted as if the static cinched about him.

Cyne’s fingers tightened about her pad. “Terey?”

His head swung toward her, eyes rolling. Terey grinned.


“Fresh meat?” his voice oozed the words.

“No. I’m here to help, Terey.” Her chair scrapped over the ground. She winced. Ninth phase. Retreating was… problematic. Cyne glanced sideways, trying to place the–

White light flared, killing her thoughts before they finished forming.

Color returned as abruptly leaving her ears screaming, and someone knelt over her. Another tech? Beyond them others held Terey against the opposite wall with static sticks. A hand grabbed her, hauling her from the floor. His words were indecipherable, but she didn’t need them when his eyes locked on her arm and the blood dribbling below her elbow.

“Welcome to phase one,” a voice whispered in her head.

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