Birds of a Rainbow

A strange trio make a sad woman smile again.

The three of them had been travelling on foot for the best part of the day when they reached the ruined village beside a silent lake just before dusk. Shadowless were the waters beneath hills overgrown with giant conifers, swaying gracefully in the wind’s whisper from the north.

Their skimmer had broken down, and Gaarnaq, the drone, had to destroy it, as it was forbidden technology for this planet. They could call down their ship only once and depart in minutes, as the opposition was already in orbit.

Iaanda had been bitching for the last couple of hours that her feet were killing her, which was a veritable lie born from an affection she had developed in previous missions, parroting the behaviour of the non-augmented in a bizarre attempt to be socially acceptable.

As Sorkaii commented, her bones were carbon nanotubed, and her muscles intertwined with electroactive polymers, so there was no pain, of course, only her usual oppressiveness of character.

On a path adorned with weeds and intimidated by wild brush, they approached the door of the only illuminated cottage, past a rusting derelict of a child’s swing.

Knocking and hearing a muffled invitation, they entered, finding themselves in a combined kitchen and living space that occupied most of the ground floor.

Wood-panelled walls overflowed with shelves and hunting trophies, their glass eyes unsettled in the flickering light of the open fireplace. Holopictures of a stern man in military and hunting attire filled all the vertical spaces in between. A middle-aged woman, impeccably dressed for the town, was behind a table painstakingly set for two. Sorkaii spoke to her gently, introducing the group as former associates of her husband. They had come to pick up the leather case with multicoloured birds on its cover.

The woman turned to the chair opposite her, asking whether she should surrender the case. Nodding, she retrieved it from a corner cupboard, whose varnish was peeling at the edges in mournful husks. After relinquishing the object of their interest, she sat and addressed the seat again.

She wrested the smile of a girl who had been the prettiest in the county before she married the brutish hunter.

“Artog says you’re invited to stay for dinner.”

“Thank you, kind lady, but we have light-years to travel and little time for gaiety, however appealing!” said Sorkaii, bowing.

They made haste, traversing the thicket and trees, ascending into the forest, and reaching the clearing that was their ship’s prearranged landing site.

At least they had secured one of the sub-quantum codes. If only they had known sooner! Their operative, killed with millions of others in Outreach’s proxy war gone wrong years ago, had saved the rainbow birds.

As their vessel deorbited, a bright pinpoint winking through the clouds, Garnaaq fleetingly rose above the tree tops to gaze a final time at the black lake that glowed faintly in infrared and the vibrant red chimney of the house with the pair of dead souls.

I wish all of my dear readers a kinder New Year!

This text was first published on X (Twitter) and is © 2023 by David Pahor. No part of my stories should be used to train AI technology to generate text, imitating my writing style.

Please subscribe to me with your e-mail, so we can stay connected when I start serialising my novel, amidst the fall of the platforms. You can always unsubscribe. If you like my stories, consider recommending them to others. Medium’s algorithm is not kind to speculative flash fiction.

In my Twitter list, you will always be able to find all of my new flash fiction, recounting Kekuros’ tales of Iaanda, Garnaaq and Sorkaii — and assorted wizards, umbras and lethal females — https://t.co/Y3YrWpfkm7 .

(The rest of David’s tales on Medium)