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An extract from a potential novel I’ve been kicking around for a couple of years. Titbit of knowledge: The planet, Eixprime, is populated by a humanoid race, the Existentials, and ruled over by a government body called the Council. The Royal Family is as much as a functionless novelty piece as it is in England.

Wraith Chase

The balcony protruded a good fifty feet from the side of the Public Transit building, curved about its rail-lined edge with portals into three different transport tunnels evenly spaced out. The large, clear, undulating tubes wove away from the supremely tall building out into the open air, or what the Existentials called ‘Free Space’, and away across the city like some huge capillary system. Hechem and Mycin stood at the entrance to the middle tunnel; their free boarding passes in hand, a privilege of their occupations as Palace Guards, waiting for the Transitwraith to lumber in.

They had glimpsed its large, square head in one of the distant tubes, its unnatural size occupying a good portion of the tunnel. With its long tail obscured by the transport pod protruding from the straps about its triangular chest, the almost magical glow that allowed it to propel itself along in the air in this way was practically unseen.

Weight shifted evenly between both feet, Hechem ran a large hand through his silver-blue hair, the tips pulling away from his fingers almost an arm’s length from his body. Readjusting his grip on the purple headdress beneath his arm, he cast a wearied look over his armoured and caped shoulder to Mycin. As he was expecting, his comrade looked most uncomfortable, shifting nervously on the spot and staring fixedly at his boots.

“Do not worry, Mycin. I am sure everything will be fine, just as it always has been when the Council has summoned us,” Hechem assured smoothly, returning his gaze to the tunnel entrance. A group of red-suited message couriers had left the transport tunnel and were now consulting each other heatedly and wildly gesturing in multiple directions, clearly lost. Hechem briefly considered helping them but decided that his friend required his attention more.

For his part Mycin huffed loud and crossed his arms across his broad chest, his own headdress sat in an unceremonious heap on the floor. “Yeah, ‘fine’. Just like the time they stuck us on nursery duty for a week, or when they had us take that stupid expedition to the Siren Mountains to deliver that bloody ridiculous Royal Supper invite to a colony that doesn’t even speak Exis.” He trailed off, muttering inarticulately, although Hechem could be quite certain that a great deal of profanity was involved in the quiet tirade.

“The Council can be mysterious in their ways,” Hechem retorted cryptically, defensive of their planet’s ruling body and their sometimes-questionable actions.

Watching the Transitwraith slowly winding closer to them, the younger guard quirked a brow and squashed down the tone of irritation that threatened to weave into his voice. “Perhaps if you were more careful in future and gave the Council less reason to become angry at you, we wouldn’t have to visit them so often,” he suggested instead. He did not voice that it was beyond his understanding why the Council had decided that as a team they would get joint praise and, more frequently, blame for anything that happened, even if it was clear that only one of them had been involved.

Pride agitated for the third time in fewer minutes, Mycin whirled to face the other man and raised an agitated finger, cape swinging dramatically behind him. “It’s not like I mean to have us dragged in there and scolded before being sent off on some stupid pseudo-mission come punishment every week!” He was shouting loud enough to catch the couriers’ attentions but Hechem refused to look around to see who was listening. “It was an accident again, understand? A giant damn accident!”

Hechem shook his head, bemused and not at all impressed by Mycin’s outburst. Even for an Old Generation Existential the green-haired man was exceptionally temperamental. He was grateful that as part of the New Generation such emotional roughage had been cleanly engineered out of his system.

Seeing that the Transitwraith was finally coming towards the dock, Hechem moved closer to the bollards that marked where he would be able to board along with the small crowd of people waiting. Collecting and then putting his headdress on for the sole reason that he would not have to carry it, Mycin also began to walk towards the bollards, his mouth a thin, angry line.

From somewhere to his left, there was a sudden cry of ‘thief’ in a shrill, female voice, and instinctually Mycin cast a seeking look, finally following the woman’s pointing arm to the thief rapidly soaring away down the tunnel on some sort of Wraith.

It escaped him as to why he was doing this knowing that to be late to a Council summons was to be merely asking for more trouble, but Mycin immediately looked around for something to hijack and chase the man. Spotting the couriers, he charged through the scattered crowd towards them, Hechem’s shouting just on the edge of his hearing.

Showing a handful of slips into one of the young courier’s hand, the green-haired Existential threw himself onto the terrified looking Skywraith and kicked it into flight, directing the androgynous humanoid head at the wraith-mounted thief several dozen yards away down the round, clear transport tunnel. The Skywraith was small, and its soft twin hooves clutched into its armoured breastplate as its glowing whip-like tail buzzed and cracked at the air. It gave a keening shriek as Mycin twisted the dial on one of its many shoulder-mounted neural nodes to make it go faster.

Mycin took a moment to glance over his shoulder, grinning manically. As expected, Hechem was pursuing on another of the courier’s Skywraiths, but adhering to the speed limit, and thus the distance between them was growing ever larger.

The plastic tunnel veered down and to the left as they entered a new district of the city, and Mycin drove his knees harder into the thick saddle as the Skywraith dove and swept with fantastic agility to avoid the slower moving traffic. They were closing-in on their quarry now. The thief, now identifiable as a thuggish grey-haired man who was periodically beating the head of the uncooperative Wraith with the purse he had just stolen, was seemingly oblivious to the decreasing distance. If the Wraith were not bucking so violently, bioelectrical sparks zipping out of its trail, he would have looked quite innocuous.

As they approached the final few yards, Mycin leant his chest down into the Skywraith’s shoulders and guided his large hands down the creature’s narrow arms until he clutched the bony elbow-joints. The Skywraith seemed to understand and did not resist the unorthodox move, gliding down until they were directly on top of the criminal. Not needing Mycin’s encouragement, it slammed its solid chest-plate into the back of the man’s head with sufficient force to render him unconscious. Clutching as his now limp shoulders with its soft hooves, the Skywraith steered the hijacked Wraith by its rider into the left-side lay-by, finally lowering itself so that Mycin could snatch back the purse.

Opening the stiff-fabric clasp of the item, Mycin fingered quickly through the contents before looking at his unconscious captive with an almost disgusted expression. “Mate, it really wasn’t worth it.”

Hechem drifted to a stop less than a minute later, looking down over Mycin’s shoulder with a less-than-amused countenance. “When you’re quite done chasing bandits we need to see the Council and explain why you saw it fit to start a fire in the Security Office. And perhaps explain how you were in the Security Office in the first place.”

Still looking in the purse, Mycin gave an unseen side-ways grin beneath the mouthpiece of his helmet. “I like how you omitted the fact that we are going to be at least an hour late now.”

Sitting back in the saddle, Hechem gave a tired scowl that fit his face far too easily after all these years of practice. “Yes, I saw it unnecessary. But perhaps you will learn something and we will not be late the next time the Council, inevitably, summons us.”

Mycin snorted, his entire body rocking back for a moment with the sound. “Since when do I ever learn?”

Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated. This will eventually be handed in as coursework for my Creative Writing course, so I really do need to make this the best it can be.

Thanks for reading!