A Whateley Academy Story

Siblings and Savages

by Joe Gunnarson

Chapter 1

August 27, 2007, Whateley Academy

Miranda Nichole Mahren looked at the stone gargoyles with teary eyes.  Her parents hadn’t even come to say goodbye, leaving her to be delivered by a lawyer on behalf of an older brother she’d never met.  She never would meet him, either.  Erik Andrew Mahren was dead, killed on duty some time during the previous year, here at Whateley Academy.  

The Alaska State case worker wasn’t a pleasant woman, eager to get her here to this piece of nowhere, then leave her.  Miranda knew the woman didn’t dislike her, but she was afraid of the telepathic ten-year-old who made cars fly occasionally.

The Final Trump

A Whateley Universe Story

By Bek D Corbin

Part 5

JJ mused that there is something seriously off about the idea of celebrating your own birth by wearing the kind of suit that you’d be buried in. At least he’d talked his mother out of the bow tie. Vic and Bart were also in their ‘you’re going to look good for the pictures’ suits, but they didn’t have to stand on the reception line. Asha was slightly overdressed with her usual frills and bows overload, and still somehow managed to make it work. Viv was on the first of the 15 outfits that she’d brought; she was bound and determined to make a killer impression, no matter what!

Looking around the central area of the lair, JJ took in how the setup for the party was pulling together. The large open space forced a strange ‘indoor garden party’ vibe on the do, which was only helped along by the hot tubs and the attendant changing rooms. Uncle Luke had insisted on a rather awkward arrangement for optimum coverage by the concealed internal defense guns. Like most Criminal Scientists, Luke tended to view internal defense as a weird sort of shooter video game. But most criminal scientists didn’t have to worry about children, that they were responsible for, becoming collateral damage. Mrs. Quillan, the housekeeper, was having an animated discussion with Luke in yet another dustup between Social Function and Security. JJ noted with amusement that there was a small playground being assembled for the toddlers-to-tweens, and another area that looked suspiciously like a refuge for the old folks. He wondered which area would be designated the ‘gawky teenager’ haven, when his cell phone rang. He had to remember which of his cell phones was ringing. It was the one in his rear pocket, crowding out his wallet. That was the one that JD had given him last ni- er, early that morning. Pulling it out, he found that he had a text message that informed him that there was a special package at the loading dock to be picked up. The message ended ‘-JD’.

A Second Generation Whateley Academy Tale

Dorms of Our Lives

by Wasamon and Souffle Girl

Sept. 6th, evening--Erica

"Well, here we are."  Erica von Abendritter looked up the face of the brick and mortar building, and found her eyes going up, up, up to the very top.  Dickinson Cottage was not a particularly tall building by most standards, but its four stories loomed above her in all their bricky splendor.  The place had weight, apart from the physical mass of its construction, and its New England gothic architecture imparted a soulful gloominess not helped by the rapid approach of evening.

"We shall go in, yes?" asked Calliope, brushing back a lock of dark brown hair twined with gold.  The young Italian mutant didn't sound too sure herself.

Erica nodded to the bags piled beside them.  "Gotta put these somewhere, I suppose.  And use the laundry soon, too.  I'd hate to run out of clean underwear already.  What would Oma say?"

"I do not know, but your aunt could tell us how to smother someone with it?" Cally ventured.  Erica could only snort through her nose at that.

A Whateley Academy Adventure

Blast from the Past

by

ElrodW

Tuesday, September 18, 2007 - Late Evening
Whateley House, Whateley Academy

The blonde woman rubbed her eyes, fighting a growing fatigue that even being an exemplar couldn't ward off. After another few attempts at deciphering the huge pile of signs and sigils and magic scribblings nearly covering up a spare table, she pushed her chair back. With a few muttered but very mild oaths, she cursed the lack of hours in a day; there was always far too much to do each and every day, and her research had been suffering.

"Still trying to figure it out, Liz?" a man said from behind her, startling the woman, who was so involved in what she'd been doing that she hadn't heard him walk into the room.

Elizabeth Carson pushed back her chair with a sigh. "Yeah. It feels like all the pieces are there, but I can't quite put them together!" she grumbled. "The answer is so close, I know it!"

"Why don't you come to bed? I always found that a good night's sleep helps me organize my thoughts."

Liz stood and let the man hug her from behind. "I've got to find the answer!" she said heavily. "I know that it's in there," she gestured toward the table, "somewhere!" In his arms, she turned to face him and lifted her lips to his. "Just a little bit longer," she said after their lips parted. "Promise. Now you get yourself to bed, and I'll be right in."

A Tale of the Star Wars

Killing Time

by E. E. Nalley

It is been stated over and over, since we first ventured out into space, the almost indescribable beauty that is a planet viewed from above. I promised myself I wouldn't give into any feelings of maudlin in this narrative, but when hyperspace opened and the Aces and Eights returned to real space, the world of Ruuria rushed up to meet me I couldn't help but be stunned. Tatooine had been beautiful in its austerity; the subtle blending the various shades of brown and tan in the sand and the rock. But Ruuria was a blue-green gem playing in a dust speckled fold of black velvet with little slivers of diamonds the shining reflections of the various star ships moving about.

So no, I'm not too proud to admit my breath caught in my throat when I saw it. It was a transcendental kind of beauty.