I really need a job...
Farm
"you never know... what, sir?" She asked the man as he mentioned how he'd always been a farmer—apparently having forgotten his life as a journalist sadly— and somehow his habits had not disappeared. This man should by all standards be put in St. Mungo's for a few months. Just for observation on the effects of long-term organic memory reconstruction and sideffects after memory-altering charms.
Lita felt weak for a moment and she dug her nails into her palm as the man used a pensieve of all things to serve himself tea.
"Um—sir, are you aware that is a pensieve and not a simple bowl?" She asked, growing more troubled by the second because of Mr. Ball's behaviour. Gilderoy Lockheart had done quite a lot to his mind apparently. Though with a pensieve handy it was the best opportunity to get a first-hand look at the man's memories.
"Mr. Ball, um, this may sound weird to you, but I would really appreciate it if you were to allow me a look at your memories"
RAF Minton
Lita groaned for a moment and squinted at Mrs. Barnes. Then she looked at the crack in the ground and part of the wall and tensed.
"I didn't hurt anyone did I?" She asked, scrambling to a sitting position and looking wildly for a moment. She'd fallen asleep. While talking. And that, kids, is why you don't go days on end without sleep and keeping awake with magical energy drinks.
edited 27th Aug '12 12:20:35 AM by Faramir
Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you can't sell him fish anymore. http://thoughtfulspurts.wordpress.com/
The Man in Black
As Chavez said no more, Clark presumed that meant he was done, and went to grind down the not-inconsiderable list of things he needed to do today.
First, he composed a letter to Cpt. Barnes, inquiring about what exactly went down at McMurdosford, what he was researching, and who exactly was the infamous 'Arkady Renko.'" He also mentioned that Mrs. Barnes was on the base with them at the moment. He personally left the letter with Chavez, to be dealt with as Chavez saw fit.
Second, he used a secure connection to log into the American intelligence community's databases and looked up "Mathurin" and "Spain."
Third, he got in contact with his Diagon Alley connections to purchase a few important magical items. One, he didn't expect to get for a few weeks, but the other was ready immediately.
"Your mission is not to nuke the squid god." —Faramir
Board Certified Sorcerer
Chessie put a steadying hand on Lita's shoulder and shook her head at the girl. Turning to Ball, she rephrased her question, "She want look at bowl."
Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles.
Show an affirming flame
Farm
Ball blinked in confusion at Lita, and looked like he was about to lapse into thought again when Chessie clarified. He pushed the bowl, still mostly full of tea, to Lita, and frowned in thought.
"...y'wan tae look at me memories?" he mouthed visibly, apparently thinking aloud and trying to parse the sentence in a way that made sense. He looked at Lita, a little more closely. "'Twon't work, liddle miss, I brew with tea bags an' not tea leaves you need."
Minton
"Mathurin" yielded a number of dross results, but the most likely one came in the footnote to a historical file on a Doctor Stephen Maturin from the early 19th century, deep from within the unclassified archives; a much later hand had added "Stephen Mathurin y Domanova" as a known alias. The file noted only that he was a known British intelligence agent of rare talent, often using the cover of naval surgeon and naturalist. The list of known or suspected incidents where he was involved spanned multiple pages, all in the Napoleonic War or the 1812 British-American war.
It would only have been of historical interest were it not for the estate that he owned in Catalonia, by means of which—according to rumor and the Royal Navy—he had smuggled an RN captain out of Napoleonic France. Estate Mathurin, seized during the Civil War, a garrison during the Franco days, and Crown property since, was the only site listed as a suspected magical location. Terra Lliure fighters had decamped there for a week in the 1980s and according to local rumor the flames of their campfires had taken such terrifying shapes and significances that they soon moved away, and it was said that ones passing by could hear the eerie music of wind and water in counterpoint accompaniment to snatches of some half-heard, half-remembered melody.
Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.
I really need a job...
"No-no-no, sir, I would not need tea leaves, that's for the future not memories. I would need the pensieve— empty of course, and you to sit down and close your eyes, and concentrate on some things." Lita said, losing her patience further and and digging her nails into her palm to try to avoid accidents.
"We would really love your help with this"
Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you can't sell him fish anymore. http://thoughtfulspurts.wordpress.com/
Show an affirming flame
Minton
Claudia shook her head reassuringly. "Dinnae fash yourself, lass," she said, slipping into the soft Highland burr of a Scottish matriarch. "I doubtit 'twere too bad. Back tae sleep for ye. Ye'll want rest afore you go back in the morn, now."
Farm
"Concentrate, con-cen-trait," said Ball, a little uncomprehendingly. "'Tweren't never something I were good at, miss, but I'll try."
He closed his eyes and furrowed his brows, propping up his elbows on the table; sometimes his expression changed, as if trying to puzzle something out. "Are ye a-readin' yet?" he whispered.
Next post shall be the morning briefing one for you guys, commandos. I'm thinking Browning and Clark get to go to Spain, everyone else is US-bound. Let's get this train on track.
Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.
I really need a job...
RAF: Minton
Lita sighed.
"I—um... I should leave now I— I don't want to cause any more trouble" She said. With a gesture her wand flew to her hand. She blinked hard for a moment and yawned before shaking her head alert. One "Reparo" aimed at the floor undid the damage. With another wand movement, the bottle of invigoration draught appeared in front of her. She drank very little, just for the apparition back, and all her tiredness disappeared for a moment. Then she conjured up her bag and swung it over her shoulder.
"Thank you so much for your hospitality ma'am" Lita said with a respectful nod as she left the room. She walked to the nearest official-military-looking person in the area "Um, hi... My name is Lita I um...could you tell Mr. Clark or Mr. Ritter that I had to leave? Sorry for any trouble" She told him and disapparated on the spot.
Lita apparated on the alley near the safehouse, walked to it, got into her room, and fell on her bed violently as the potion wore off. She was tired.
Farm
"I would like you to concentrate on your desk sir" She told him. Lita emptied the pensieve and activated it, then she got out her wand and put it on the man's temple. After a few seconds she pulled it away, drawing out a thin silvery substance and then putting it on the pensieve. Its runic patterns glowed again and then she leaned in, her nose touching the man's memory for a moment before she fell in.
Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you can't sell him fish anymore. http://thoughtfulspurts.wordpress.com/
Board Certified Sorcerer
Chessie stood by passively, arms crossed, watching Lita handle the memory examination process. It wasn't something she was extremely familiar with personally so the chance for observation was intriguing.
Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles.
Show an affirming flame
Ball's Farmhouse
Lita had the usual haze-grey impression of looking into memories; true to word, Ball had tried his best to focus on the desk, and it stood bright and clear in the center, while dreamlike fragments of associations in motion drifted around it, flickering into shade and reemerging. They were milky-white, indistinct and distorted, when they drifted into the shadow. It was as if they were passing through a lense, blurry and indistinct in the corners, coming into sharp focus only to be hopelessly shattered by a flaw in the glass before emerging on the other side, out of focus again and drifting away. Only the desk remained static and clear.
The blurring effect remained motionless, though, clearly distinct and different from the memories that it obscured. It was a powerful memory charm to have affected so much, but a slapdash, imperfect one, that had spread through Ball's memories like spidery cracks in a mirror.
RAF Minton Briefing Room, Nov. 1
"We have two mission orders at this time," said Price. He and the newly-renamed Occulus Team-One occupied one of the conference rooms, the briefing theatre being deemed too public of a space. He had to speak louder than usual; though the storm had let up somewhat, raindrops clattered like spent cartridges against the tin roof. The captain glanced over at Ritter, who had just entered. In contrast to the others, all slightly damp (dry uniforms were available after morning PT, dry boots were not), Ritter looked like any other midlevel exec. "How's our guest, by the way?"
"Gone," said Ritter. "Barnes told us she disappeared into thin air after accidentally wrecking the brig. Magical nightmares or something; not shown up on the rest of the base."
Price grimaced, causing his mustache to bristle, before continuing. "In any case. The Yankees have asked us to pay them a visit. Probably to cross-train with Delta or some other crap like that—of course, it could be show us off to their Congress and win a prize for multicultural diverseness." He glanced at Ritter and Clark. "Well, spies excepted, I suppose. Orders from spook central for you, Mr. Clark. Spain." He handed an envelope to Clark; travel orders and a translation of a Spanish internal memo, approved for release. "Intel and liaison duty with the Spanish Army. Haven't worked with them and my Spanish is terrible, so you do it. I suppose that makes you my representative," he continued,. "They've got space for one person to go with you—I can spare you Sergeant Browning, I think. The girl's just come to Europe; we can't have her wasting her vacation."
He had no trouble maintaining his usual deadpan scowl even as muted thunder rumbled overhead and a sudden rain squall rattled the roof at the word "vacation".
London, Nov. 1
The safehouse had a visitor that morning: Charmdrummer stared perfectly straight ahead, unmoving, while Karla, apparently freshly back from Spain, sat across her desk from him, much like a mother listening to a wayward child—or a manager hearing the explanation of a subordinate employee.
"You were right to bring this to my attention," said Karla; this did not look like it cheered Charmdrummer, who remained sullen but outwardly respectful. He sat with perfect posture and inclined his head in a millimetrically correct bow in acknowledgment; Karla did not notice or ignored it. "Alzey...hmm. United States." She frowned. "If it's muscle he wants...I can supply you Miss Szymanska there. She came in after your stint...rest assured," she added drily, "the Ministry ignores her talents at its own loss. I think you will find them helpful. And in return—you know the standard arrangement. I will put in a word to your line manager. You have been helpful."
Charmdrummer inclined his head again, said "thank you" in a perfectly correct voice with absolutely no trace of anger, and nearly bowled over Chessie on his way out; the slam of the front door as he left rattled the windows.
"It would appear that the current arrangement displeases him—but one does," said Karla, a trifle wearily. "Miss Garza, kindly step outside for a moment. Miss Szymanska. You are accustomed, I take it, to working with private investigators? Freelancers, as it were? It would seem that there is a—business opportunity available in the United States." She slid over a still photograph labeled Erik Alzey, from which a tall man in his forties, wizard robes but no pointy hat, stared back.
"Alzey called in a favor from Charmdrummer, nature unknown. He is supposed to be investigating some manner of disappearance—and has found it necessary to contact a known employee of the British Ministry of Magic for help. Curious." She produced a map of North America from the desk, tapping a point just beneath the outstretched neck of Maine. "Innsmouth, Massachusetts. It is just a suspicion...but one worth looking into. 'Nasty juju,' in Alzey's own words. Assist Charmdrummer as needed, and make your own judgment if Alzey's network is sound." Karla was sardonic as ever, but there was an eagerness in her eyes, as of a chess player who has noticed seen a potential crack in the enemy's positioning. "See if his product is worth buying, and forward your recommendation to me."
Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.
I really need a job...
Nov 1
Lita woke up that morning to her room almost falling apart on her. They were getting worse. She'd have to buy some dreamless sleep potions soon, if only for the sake of her room. After taking one of the coldest showers in her life, Lita was awake enough to clear up her room and fix all the broken little bits. Only when she was getting out to eat she noticed a little note on her door. Karla wanted to meet her in her office.
Lita splashed some more cold water on her own face and headed there thinking she was awake enough to deal with Karla. She heard a little of Charmdrummer and Karla discussing whatever it was they were discussing and then Charmdrummer left and slammed the door. She had barely stepped inside the room when she was told to step outside.
Still somewhat confused and slightly sleepy despite the cold water she got out and catched up to Charmdrummer before he'd gone too far.
"So...what was that?" She asked him.
Farm
Lita squinted confused for a moment and then left the memory. Taking out her wand she pointed at the silvery substance.
"Specialis Revelio"
edited 19th Aug '12 8:05:45 PM by Faramir
Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you can't sell him fish anymore. http://thoughtfulspurts.wordpress.com/
RAF Minton
"This is bullshit." Warren said as he ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. "We're in the middle of a fuckin war, and they decide to put on another dog and pony show? I could of sworn we were here to find and kill the people responsible. "
He paused for a moment to scribble some things down in his notepad, questions for Price as well as a summary of the mission.
"Price, any idea when we'll be leaving?"
THE SLORG!
"Could be worse, Warren. They could be sending us to an actual pony and dog show" Alex said jokingly from his seat, with a slight chuckle before he really thought that over for a moment. "Then again, might be so bad" he added with a playful grin.
You are reading this.
Board Certified Sorcerer
Observing Charmdrummer in the brief moment available, Czeslawa turned to Karla. She stood impassive while receiving her marching orders. Deciding not to start simple, the cop simply nodded, "What is limit?"
edited 21st Aug '12 1:15:17 PM by hotelkilo
Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles.
Show an affirming flame
Minton
"As soon as possible, I assume," said Price. "There's a Herky bird to take us to Mildenhall, and from there we go separate ways. Grab your stuff and pack light."
Massachusetts
It was late afternoon, local time, when most of Occulus Team-One stepped off their transport at Otis Air National Guard Base in Massachusetts; there was no snow yet, but the blowing nor'easter winds tore falling raindrops into horizontal trajectories, fleetingly visible in the cone of the landing lights. It was a thoroughly miserable day for the jetlagged commandos to debark into; matters were not helped when it was discovered that some administrative issue had delayed the preparation of proper quarters for them.
Spain
In contrast, Zaragoza Air Base in Spain was experiencing a pleasantly cool evening when Clark and Browning stepped off their aircraft. Barcelona airport would have been preferred, but military flights were still a curiosity there, and trying to get Browning and her shotgun through civilian security was out of the question. Both Occulus operatives were met by a Spanish staff car, which contained a colonel of military intelligence who greeted both Americans with carefully energetic cheer.
"The issue is delayed, somewhat," he said, once inside the car. "I am to understand that you have received the file on Estate Maturin? The disappearing policemen?"
London
"None, for the moment," said Karla. "Evaluation only at this stage. Since he is currently on a case, I authorize you to observe and report what he's doing—and help if needed, though, please, without making the news."
Outside, Charmdrummer turned around to glare at Lita murderously, before visibly restraining himself. "Nothing to concern you, yet," he said abruptly. "Goodbye."
Fog swirled where he Disapparated.
Farm
This time there was a response: a translucent substance like cracked ice congealed atop the silvery memories, somehow floating but distinct from the memories. Beneath it, through the mist, visible hairline seams formed, faded and reformed continually, and where they intersected with the floating mass, there were distinct separations, as if the float and the seams were repelling each other magnetically.
The top Lita did recognize from her studies: a sign of badly-performed Memory Charm. Of the rest, unidentified.
Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.
I really need a job...
Farm
Lita sighed, mentally cursing Gilderoy Lockhart for the six thousandth time. Still, it was curious, Lockhart was known for his thoroughness and talent among memory charms—if not much else. Why was this one so bad? Was it age and decay? Was it done in a greater hurry than others? Was it just one of his earlier curses (it was from 1980, and he'd done the bulk of his work in the late eighties) and he'd just botched it from inexperience at the time? Was it something else?
Too many raised questions and no one to answer them. Lita leaned forward again, trying to see if she'd learn anything further from these before attempting to extract more memories— which was looking more futile by the minute.
London
Lita shrugged slightly confused and went back inside and into the kitchen to grab an apple as she waited for Karla and Chess' meeting to finish.
edited 22nd Aug '12 7:25:18 AM by Faramir
Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you can't sell him fish anymore. http://thoughtfulspurts.wordpress.com/
Board Certified Sorcerer
There was only one really important question left then, "When we leave?"
Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles.
THE SLORG!
"No room for us? What are we supposed to do tonight?" Alex wondered after being informed of the mix up. The weather was absolutely dreadful, and while Alex had bothered to bring a coat, it was a fairly light one that didn't offer the kind of protection he really wanted for this weather.
He was also tired, but with the rain how it was, that was easy enough to ignore for now.
You are reading this.
Massachusetts
"Staying warm and dry sounds like a good start." Warren said as he made his way down the aircraft's rear ramp and onto Otis' tarmac. The rain had picked up the moment that they had landed,and now it was hitting him across the face; collecting on his beard before draining down his body. He zipped his Northface jacket up a bit more, and adjusted his personal bag before walking off in the direction of the hangers, seconds later he spotted an airman operating what appeared to be a tram; "Where's the break room?" Warren asked.
The Man in Black
Clark nodded. "Yes, we read the file." He said. "Do you have any additional details on the situation?"
"Your mission is not to nuke the squid god." —Faramir
Show an affirming flame
London
Karla smiled humorlessly. "Today. Pack what you need, and yes, that includes the cannon, though I will be relying on your discretion with it. I will have documentation, money, and contact information for you soon enough. And if you see Lita anywhere, tell her to come see me."
Farm
Beyond what she already saw, there was little further to be gleaned from the memories themselves; broken fragments of memories flashed meaningless images. The pattern of nearly-invisible hairline cracks had settled, radiating out from the center in a spiderweb fractal pattern, delicate and almost regular in their chaotic swirl—and atop of them, superimposed, the heavier, wilder slashes of the visible memory charm.
For a moment before they faded as the copied memories evaporated from the bowl there were two sets of cracks overlapping each other—as if a mirror had taken a delicate tap to send hairline faults spidering across its surface before being smashed by a hammer.
Otis ANGB, writer's block. Will write when inspiration strikes.
Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.
I really need a job...
Farm
Now intrigued, confused, and certain she wasn't going to learn anything further from this, Lita summoned a small, empty container from her bag and poured the memories there. With any luck she'd find someone who knew what to make of them.
"I'm sorry for taking up your valuable time sir. Thank you for your cooperation, we should leave now" She said, nodding respectfully at the man.
Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you can't sell him fish anymore. http://thoughtfulspurts.wordpress.com/
Board Certified Sorcerer
Farm
Reaching a hand into her coat, she sat it out on the table in front of Lita and their host. She nodded, "Parting gift. For your time."
edited 28th Aug '12 9:18:42 AM by hotelkilo
Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles.
Show an affirming flame
London
Karla nodded. "Call in Miss Garza, if you please."
Farm
"Aye," said Ball. A pause, as he picked up the slivovitz flask appreciatively. "Didye at least like yer tea, then? 'Tis a pity, but I get few visitors; I'll remember to keep the kettle on for ye."
Otis ANGB
The airman pointed Warren roughly in the right direction, where Warren found a line of troops in old-pattern forest camouflage, older than most line infantry and looking around a little nervously. Olive-green trucks drove outside, too, looking battered and old, staying away from the flightline but busy ferrying men and luggage here and there. They made rooster tails when they drove through the wide puddles, and their lights formed a dim halo of rain.
A harried-looking clerk ran up to the group, shielding his head from rain with a clipboard. "You lot from Britain? Sorry for the mess, National Guard's doing something but they won't tell me what."
Spain
The colonel nodded, before glancing at Olivia questioningly. "Just learned this, not two hours ago. One of the Catalan policeman returned to the station, alive and well. They are debriefing him—I think, we must be there, yes? Aside from that—I have one Army company moving in the area, but we delay to learn from the returned man."
edited 28th Aug '12 12:47:16 PM by SabresEdge
Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.
The Man in Black
Clark nodded. "I see. I suppose we should attend this debriefing if possible, then." A thought seemed to occur to him. "Might I ask your name?"
"Your mission is not to nuke the squid god." —Faramir
Farm, Oct. 29
Ball gave the matter his customary two minutes of thought.
"Weeell," he said slowly, "I bin a farmer. An' before that...I reckon I was a farmer, too." He looked over at the desk, and it was evident that he realized something didn't quite sit right with his analysis. "An' I've left my desk tidy an' neat by the end o' the day, inkstand filled too, for ye never know," he continued, somewhat dissatisfied. "Always ha'e."
Scratching his beard, he got up and from a rickety wooden cupboard got out tea bags and a tin of milk; from the refrigerator, a lemon. Setting everything on the desk surface carefully, he produced a can opener and a knife, and two mugs from the cupboard—and then froze, one mug in either hand, looking confused for a moment. The cupboard had no more cups, and he pondered intently the question of how to make tea for three before his face lit up with inspiration and he set down one mug each before Chessie and Lita. For himself, he opened another cupboard, draped with cobwebs, and produced a large metal bowl—and when he brought it out, the runes and glyphs carved on it seemed to ripple and glow.
It was a Pensieve, inactive, but ready to function at the touch of a wand. Ball paid the magical symbols no attention as he poured Lita and Chessie a mug of tea each, before carefully pouring himself a cup or two in the bowl of the Pensieve, adding a bit of milk and squinting at the resulting hue.
Minton, Oct. 31/Nov. 1
Lita was shaken out of sleep, gently, by Mem Barnes. "...'ve seen nightmares, lass, but never one like that," she was saying, dryly but with concern. "Are ye awake?"
Commando group, settle your actions and your destinations. I'm going to jump you over to your new missions soon.
Translated from Spanish documents
Classified
The new building complex does not show up on any photographs taken previous to the current ones. Unfortunately, the last aerial photographs of the region were taken on 23 May; regular aerial reconnaissance has not yet been implemented in the region due to lack of assets. Therefore, the buildings could have materialized at any time between 23 May and 27 October. They are mainly shielded from the main road by Estate Maturin.
Without further analysis, it is difficult to guess their age. One preliminary guess from the Mossos d'Esquadra places their construction date around the Middle Ages, but this should not be taken as official. Certainly their architectural style is different from the rest of the Estate, but it should be noted that the Estate was rebuilt multiple times. Plate B compares the dimensions of the new building complex with surviving castles from the Reconquista era; the walls are thinner, and the building itself is not only much higher, but more advanced in its construction...
The new buildings were noticed on 26 October by a Mossos d'Esquadra helicopter flight; as the buildings show no sign of human residence, and as the Estate is known to be uninhabited, the local police forces decided to investigate, while flagging the matter as only routine. As a result, news did not pass up the chain until much later, at which point all matters relating to the Estate were classified. The fiercely autonomous stance of the current Catalan government may have contributed to the delay. In any case, a squad of Mossos were sent out to investigate on 27 October; their jeeps are circled in the aerial photograph (Plate C). They have not returned.
We consider hostile action a likely cause...
edited 15th Aug '12 1:59:14 AM by SabresEdge
Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.