Stay Dead: Jul on, #2

By Jul on Shumm

I am not in a good mood.

This mutilated body I walked into is a trial to live in. Morg watches me constantly for the brains to slip.

His constant surveillance doesn’t help my confidence any.

And then there is this working in the labs…

Surrounded by sec intel… They make my skin crawl.

When Loran had presented her plan to me I was all for it.

What could be simpler?

Just tell my story through data back transfer.

Do NOT say time travel…thinking about time travel makes my head spin.

This is just sending data back through the internet system.

I had forgotten the condition the internet was in, back in 2012, AD Terra time. With governments, religions, and underground organizations attempting to shut down the communications between people.

Note:

Use email drops.

Like the old physical mail drops…

Just send your messages to an intermediate email drop, and have your messages resent from that location.

That screws up a lot of official controls.

The search engines!

What a mess!

In between campaigns, I have to enter the labs to work on Loran’s plan.

It has taken me a year, to reach this point.

As I said, I am not a happy camper.

Remembering this next part makes my bones ache

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jul on Shumm
• Release date: Dec 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502209948

Book preview

Author’s note:

The Jul on series has been shaped by many authors and story tellers from our past. As indeed it couldn’t help but be. Because these have influenced me...and you.

You will read a sentence, or a portion of the story, that will remind you of other things that you have read. I encourage you to reread the old stories again. To explore, and enjoy, the authors once more.

I am a reader, as well as a researcher, so there are many people who have contributed to alter my perceptions. I don’t wish to slight anyone by leaving them out of the list, but here are a few:

Andre Norton, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Dan O'Bannon and  Ronald Shusett, are just a few...

Kick back, this story isn’t going where you might think...Yep, it starts as an innocent young adult’s story...Allow the horror to grow.

Jul on Shumm

Jul on 21st Walk In Book 2

Yes, you need to read She’s Alive Again.

I am not in a good mood.

This mutilated body I walked into is a trial to live in. Morg watches me constantly for the brains to slip.

His constant surveillance doesn’t help my confidence any.

And then there is this working in the labs...

Surrounded by sec intel... They make my skin crawl.

When Loran had presented her plan to me I was all for it.

What could be simpler?

Just tell my story through data back transfer.

Do NOT say time travel...thinking about time travel makes my head spin.

This is just sending data back through the internet system.

I had forgotten the condition the internet was in, back in 2012, AD Terra time. With governments, religions, and underground organizations attempting to shut down the communications between people.

Note:

Use email drops.

Like the old physical mail drops...

Just send your messages to an intermediate email drop, and have your messages resent from that location.

That screws up a lot of official controls.

The search engines!

What a mess!

In between campaigns, I have to enter the labs to work on Loran’s plan.

It has taken me a year, to reach this point.

As I said, I am not a happy camper, so no mid story introduction.

Remembering this next part makes my bones ache.

———————-

I don’t think that I truly woke up the next 24 hours.

I remember the tub and IV feedings, then clay bathes, then quick rinses. I remember the nails being cut off, and shaped. I remember my hair being cut, dilapidator being used on my legs, under arms, and around my eyebrows.

I remember three men working on my body. One I remember is a Weft. I remember feeling safe, warm, wanted and loved.

I remember, but it is cloudy, dreamlike.

I rolled onto my back, and stretched. With my eyes closed, I began to explore the world.

My body was enclosed in a thick wool like body sock. I was wearing a suction diaper.

I moved my eyes under my closed eyelids, and swallowed. I was well hydrogenated. I stretched again, and yes, my joints felt better. I moved my right hand and rested it on a hipbone.

Still bone skinny, but better.

I extended my awareness. The bed was a touch too firm, but when I had gained proper weight, it would be perfect.

There was a man sleeping on the floor, to my right. The deep sleep of an exhausted man. I gently boosted his connection to the Universal source. Rest well.

He slipped into a healthier sleep.

I extended my awareness a little more, and found the Weft drooped across the top of the cabinets, between the main door and the bathroom.

It hibernated in exhaustion, without the sun of its birthing. I boosted its connection to the Universal source. Draw strength, recuperate with the sun, and beach.

It relaxed, and began to glow.

I searched the room, and located another man, lying on the floor to the left of my wide bed.

His sleep was a sleep of soul, and bone deep exhaustion, with a constant running nightmare.

...the crack of a whip...the pain...a young child’s sobbing words...forgive me, Jul on...I...I got blood on...your picture...

I boosted his connection to the Universal source. Rest well. I forgive you.

He relaxed and sighed.

...Jul on...I’m going to grow up big and strong...I’ll protect you...No one will hurt you...

He slipped into a healthier sleep.

I took in the room. There were delights and surprises hidden in its cabinets.

I increased my awareness, and searched for Rhea.

I found her and ruthlessly searched her memories.

Nasty nice foul woman!

I didn’t bother to search for the good in her, to search for her life path. She had interfered with me, she had refused me food. The penalty was death.

I studied her memories of Marc.

Despite my fury, I didn’t kill her.

I must change my orders for her death, I would enjoy it, but though Marc would not hesitate to obey my order, it might bother him inside to kill an ex-lover.

I returned to the man sleeping on the floor by my bed. This was Marc...and he was dying.

I entered his body and searched. I reluctantly withdrew, there was nothing that I could do for him physically.

But, I knew what I could do for him emotionally, to make everything right in this rapidly ending life.

Rhea had given me another lead, I went searching for Dalia.

Rhea had supplied memories of Karial, Dalia, and herself. 3 ignorant ‘professionals’, driven by spite, striking out at men they didn’t want, simple because they couldn’t satisfy or even take the edge off of 3 of the most powerful men in the Federated Universe.

Leech like, they had attempted to latch onto these men, because of their positions, because of their power. Taking advantage of their weakness.

Their need for love, for the pride that is love.

My killing Karial had taken pressure from Roy Skatesmail. Rhea’s death would take pressure from Marc.

Although, I wondered, were these men even truly aware of the pressures these women had been pushing on them?

A 3 woman club.

Proud of never having been in a conditioning booth, and united in removing the object, all 3 men shared.

Me!

I left Dalia, with the reason I needed to order her interrogation and death by my hand.

Morg had already removed her as Captain of the Hurricane, and Captain Wager had replaced her.

I was tiring, and returned my awareness to my bed. So safe, warm, wanted and loved....

I sank into sleep.

—————————

I awoke to find Marc checking my diaper bags. Guardsman Tom was changing an IV bag, and Morg was tying up sleeping pads.

Good Morning!

All 3 men jumped up, and stared at me.

Rhea, Dalia...I will interrogate...them. I will kill...them... Sabotage Sweep... They plan...ned to kill me.

Wow! The temperature in the room dropped by at least 200 degrees.

Why the sabotage? Morg asked.

Spite...

I watched as Marc and Morg set their faces into grim masks. I could almost hear them blaming themselves.

Now that I ... have seen...you two... Now that I...have been...cared for by...you... I too want you.

I watched their reactions to my clumsy speech.

Guardsman Tom reacted first. He grinned, and his eyes started dancing.

Ugh!

I enjoy watching the eyes of a Weft dancing, it is funny and makes me giggle. But eyes in a human face bouncing around does a number to my stomach.

Morg went pale, and the look he gave me was... He glanced at Marc, and stepped back.

Marc didn’t even seem to be breathing. I raised my right hand and he knelt by my bed.

I must... recover quickly... I looked him over as admiringly as I could. I didn’t have to fake my interest. This man was all man...

Guardsman Tom stepped back and sprouted yellow fuzzy head bobbers. A sign of hysterical laughter in a Weft.

Morg grinned, and stepped back again.

Marc was blushing and stammered when he could speak.

Jul on! You...you stop looking...looking at me...like that!

Your voice...tickles...inside me. Hey! I just told him the truth.

Morg gave a little start, and I gestured toward him. Work.

His visor slammed down, and I remembered that all three had worn their head gear, even in their sleep.

I looked at my still bone skinny hand and sighed. Reprieve... I told Marc.

He blushed and told me, very firmly. At least three weeks! A sadness passed over his face.

You are... my chosen...

I slipped into sleep.

—————————

"You two stay with her.

No Marc, I will get my own breakfast." Morg hurried from Jul on’s room.

He ate while standing over the galley sink.

Jul on is here! He swallowed, and pulled up the recording of her waking up.

Good morning!

He copied it, and her sentencing of Rhea and Dalia. Then he sent the recording out on all hail.

Morg paused and took care of more work.

After quickly cleaning the sink, Morg rushed to his bedroom.

Leaving Jul on’s suite Morg couldn’t stop grinning. Not even the fact that he was heading toward the delayed meeting with Senior Science Tech Marsa could wipe the grin from his face.

Morg and his people wore their command armor in this woman’s meetings.

It wasn’t necessary, they could have just worn their head gear, but Morg wore his because he could not abide that woman touching him.

When Marsa had protested against the armor, every one wore theirs.

Morg entered the transport and was tying off when a sudden picture, of Jul on facing Marsa, hit him.

He was laughing so hard that it took him several minutes to explain his jubilation to his people.

As the transport made other stops, and more people loaded in, the verbal picture was shared with them.

When the transport docked with the Shabe, even the honor guards were grinning.

Sir. The honor guard officer fell in beside Morg as he walked toward the conference room. "Jul on is looking good. Thank you for sending out this morning’s recordings.

Captain Tai has avocados ripe for the plucking. We are sending the entire tree to your garden.

You know Jul on loves avocados and tomatoes.

Slice a nice juicy tomato, very thin, and see if she can eat it."

Thank you... Do you think she is ready for soft food yet?

"This is Jul on we are talking about... Sir.

Jul on will push..." The officer grimly reminded him.

I see your point. Morg called Marc.

—————————-

I woke up and stretched.

I had been fed by IV, tub and mouth, soaked in a clay bath and rinsed 3 times since the first time I had awakened this morning.

I sat up on the side of the bed. While I was waiting for the dizziness to pass Guardsman Tom rushed into my bedroom.

He looked so silly, bundled in a heavy coat and long gloves, that I laughed.

The bare skin touch from a Weft freaks out most species of peoples.

Even I could only stand a few seconds of the touch. Of course, for  me, the touch of a Weft is intense sunshine, each cell in my body screams with delight.

People say that the touch of a Weft is a rape, a internal beating.

What utter nonsense.

Damn... I had laughed so hard I had peed. Well, so much for walking to the toilet, like I had planned. Good thing I was still wearing the suction diaper.

Chair...with wheels.

Guardsman Tom nodded and shifted. His clothing was still settling on the floor when the door opened and he pushed in a wheel chair.

To my intense relief, Guardsman Tom shifted into his clothes. Most Wefts don’t bother to shift the unseen portions of their bodies into whatever form they are wearing.

The urge to tickle one of those dingle berries is unbearable.

I fondly recalled the first and only time I had successfully snuck up on a hibernating Weft, and tickled a dingle berry.

It had been letting everything dangle while hibernating on its rack. I had slipped into its room and tickled a dingle berry with a feather I had begged from a bird.

The Weft had sprung from its rack, splattered on the ceiling, and losing all cohesion, had fallen to the floor in globs of quivering light filled gel.

That Weft had been angry with me for days, when it wasn’t giggling.

Hisman had been furious with me.

——————————

I sighed. "Hisman?’

Guardsman Tom let his face sag.

This has been a long interval. Jul on...he died 5 years ago. More than 1,900 years did he live. He rushed on.

He took 6 private tutoring students. Morg, Marc, Roy Skatesmail, sec intels Prater, Shield, and myself, over the last 182 years. He proudly told me.

6... All here.

Yes. We have discussed this and then, of course, the 6 of us saw you here...

Marc where?

Guardsman Tom looked panicked, his eyes got round.

I’ve been around enough Wefts to know he knew where Marc was, but didn’t want to tell me.

Never mind.

He relaxed with a sigh.

People say Wefts are calm and unruffable. You can’t prove it by the ones that I have known.

Hisman said I have a devastating effect on Wefts, and so I wouldn’t know how they really are.

I stood up and managed to sit in the wheel chair. Guardsman Tom transferred my diaper bags, and tubes, and then put a warm blanket around my shoulders, tucking it across my chest and around my legs.

Thank you. I pointed to the door and Guardsman Tom pushed me into the main room.

Guardsman Tom gasped as we entered the main room, I myself was startled.

My room perfect... explain this. I glared at the white carpeting and walls.

A 6 year oversight Jul on. He sounded aghast.

Obsession Compulsive! Probably all three of them.

I sighed, and then giggled. What a head rush! Me first, last and always.

————————-

Guardsman Tom finished issuing orders for the carpets to be changed and the walls tinted.

Your room.

He pushed me to a door, and then into his room.

White! Well he was taking care of that, but a bed!

Bed? Where rack?

Uh...

Have bed removed...proper rack.

I reached for the light controls and tried the settings. Where sun?

Murra has developed full spectrum light insets. I will order the immediately.

All rooms...Marc...Morg too pale.

Yes, Jul on. Guardsman Tom sent the orders off.

Marc’s room.

Guardsman Tom hesitated, there was something he didn’t want me to see. Marc’s room. I repeated.

When the door to Marc’s room opened I saw the renewal tank against the far wall.

Carpet, walls... bed wrong... BK-LHV... Sheets, blankets... pillow cases... greens... natural fabrics.

Somehow I knew my cabinets were bulging with bedding.

Take from my...bedding.

Yes, Jul on.

I couldn’t stand it. How often?

Guardsman Tom sighed. Every other day.

No tell...I know...Morg’s room.

————————-

Guardsman Tom pushed me into the main room. "You know?

...but you chose him..."

The curiosity of a Weft is stimulating.

Would have chosen...him otherwise...Wait...what is wrong...couch?

The large white sectional was bumpy, and slightly saggy on one of the long sections.

Morg has slept here for 6 years. Since we moved in...I had not noticed the sectional breakdown.

Why not bed?

Guardsman Tom pushed me into Morg’s room.

The bed.

He pushed me to Morg’s bed.

I leaned forward and pushed into the mattress with my finger.

Ouch...harder...than rock...bad bed... bruised finger. I glared at the bed.

BK-LHV...8’ length... Bed linen...darks rusts...take from my linen.

When Guardsman Tom had finished ordering the new bed, I pointed to the bathroom.

I pulled open the drawer containing the armor disposal bags. Leak...burst easy...Use WB-16-1684d...all armor...double fold.

Thank you, Jul on! He hurried to the dispensary, and called for 30 of them. Even battle armor?

Yes.

He called for 60 more of the bags.

I heard him muttering on his headset. Jul on says...

I wheeled myself back into Morg’s room, and looked at my pictures.

Marc came rushing into the room. He stopped by my chair, and gently kissed me...on my forehead! You are wonderful!

He ran over to the hopper, and filled his arms with waste bags. Be right back. He ran out of Morg’s bedroom.

Hey, I remember walking around with both legs of my armor full of...yuck!

Guardsman Tom hurried out with another arm load of waste bags.

They fit!

"Of course!

I remember...those pictures...private scout... Ronald Green... Greensbough...collected them...said thought my...finger...prints same.  Asked for...sample... I pointed to the hand prints on one of the pictures. No body...has ever asked...before... I looked at my hands. 3 sheets...PI640-dev..."

When Marc returned with the impression sheets, I impressed each one with both of my hand prints.

I’m hungry.

The crews have started work in Guardsman Tom’s room. So you can’t eat in peace at the dining table. Marc told me.

Wow! I hadn’t even thought about that yet. This man was one step ahead of me!

I was sucking down 1640 and Mix-38 by mouth and IV when Marc reappeared in my room.

I hope you aren’t too full. He handed me a milkshake.

Ecstasy!

I moaned and closed my eyes.

Suck, and let the milkshake absorb in my mouth.

I was busy sucking and enjoying it, when a thought struck me.

Cow on...Hurricane? I reluctantly opened my eyes.

Marc snorted. No. Freeze dried milk solids.

So good...oh no... I slipped into sleep.

———————

Guardsman Tom poured the drinks. The 3 males grinned and drank the drinks in one shot.

Marc poured the next round. Imagine a burst waste bag being a rarity.

Imagine being able to sleep on a proper rack. Guardsman Tom sighed. How could we have missed these basic every day living items?

Morg snorted. "Every Sweep ship is celebrating.

Jul on is recovering, she freed a bunch of slaves no one even knew existed.

She has punished one, and is ready to punish the other two saboteurs of the Sweep. And for a final capper she has given us good waste bags!"

Morg poured the next round.

My last one. Guardsman Tom reminded him.

Thank you for volunteering to stay sober. Marc told him.

Guardsman Tom laughed. You should have seen her, Morg. Bad bed. Bad bed! Her finger was actually bruised. He stood up. "I am sleeping with one eye open. I know she was thinking about tickling me.

Just like Hisman said. Her eyes will give her away.

You two relax, in this beautiful, non white home of ours."

Guardsman Tom shifted into Jul on’s room, leaving his clothing behind.

Morg sighed, picked up the Weft’s clothes, and met him coming, shame faced, out of Jul on’s room.

Finally, Morg and Marc got down to some serious drinking.

18 more days, actually 17 days and part of a morning. Marc stated with the careful phrasing of a near drunken man with some thing important to say. She knows. I don’t know how she knows, but she knows.

Morg poured the next round. Karial and Rhea talked a lot, aboard the Sh-Karial. He offered bitterly.

Yeah...that must have been it. Marc finished his drink and poured another round.

These next 17 days and part of a morning I am going to pretend that we are bonded, that I am her chosen.

Not pretend! Real! Jul on has chosen...She’s hurting... I see it when she looks at you. Morg poured another round. She must have attempted to stop the aging...and failed.

I think so, I remember a dream last night. Marc smiled. I know you have seen the recording of her killing Karial, but you should have seen her in person...so beautiful.

It showed on the recording...

The men began a step by step rehash of Jul on’s strategic assault. A natural, she’s perfect... A perfectly executed strategic assault. Morg said proudly.

With 17 days and part of a morning, I’ll be able to see her do a few more of her signature assaults. Marc grinned and poured the next round. You want to bet Marsa is next?

The next meeting is in 8 days... Morg frowned. But this is Jul on we are talking about.

Only 8 days to get re...recovered. Marc grinned. I have a new bed, and I intend to sleep on the floor at the foot of her bed.

Morg snorted. I’ll trip over you, cause I am going to sleep on the floor too.

Morg had to use both hands to fill their glasses. Must be an earthquake.

Turbulence. Marc said when he gave up trying to bring the glass all the way up to his mouth. Need straw.

Morg stood up and made his way to the galley. He returned with straws, spoons, and a cake. Couldn’t find the forks.

Happens... Marc started eating from his side of the cake.

Morg opened another bottle. Hey...how come these other bottles are empty?

————————

I awoke, and extended my awareness.

Guardsman Tom was in full hibernation on the shelves. He was glowing and smelled of spice.

I smiled and stretched. The men must be relaxing.

I extended myself, looking for Marc and Morg.

I giggled at them, and then I had to admit that I felt a little jealous, but this body was not ready for a drink, never mind a drunk.

I slipped back into sleep, wondering who Marsa was.

Morg was slowly and very carefully changing an IV bag. Marc had just replaced my waste bags. Both men looked very pale.

Good morning!... Both of you...drink 2 glasses...of water...climb into re...renewal tank...15 minutes...next time...I get to join...you.

Both men nodded, and then clutched their heads. The door opened and Guardsman Tom walked in carrying 2 large beakers of water.

Drink.

When they had done so, and left my room, I asked Guardsman Tom.

Hist tech?

"Old Samson, Morg’s hist tech, died a few months ago. A few years ago he took on a pair of same egg hatchlings, a brother and sister, as trainees.

The lizards aren’t exactly traditional hist techs.

I mean they are very good hist techs, but they answer a question of history with the traditional answer, the probable history based on their research, then his slant and her slant.

The Senior Hist Techs are refusing to give them cloaks, even with Samson, Morg, Roy, Marc, and my recommendations, and even their papers aren’t considered."

I share...their...their time. I will...will evaluate them.

Yes, Jul on...When?

This morning.

I walked to the toilet, all by myself!

I kept the diaper on, just because I didn’t trust my stamina. When I returned to the bedroom Guardsman Tom had laid out a fresh body sock, sock boots, and a dark brown, thick, full length, long sleeved, hooded robe.

I returned to the bathroom and investigated the shower. There was a sturdy shower seat in it.

I managed to get out of the body sock I was wearing, before Marc rushed in.

Not alone... He quickly stripped down to his shorts...Wow!

He removed the suction diaper, and helped me into the shower stall.

I was so interested in feasting my eyes that the shower was over before I knew it.

Damn!

Marc bundled me into a towel. I know you prefer a rough towel, but your skin is still too thin.

He got into a cabinet, for a thin towel, and I stared into the mirror.

Big Mistake!

———————————

According to the scales I was only 11 pounds under weight, but I still looked like a skeleton, a bug eyed skeleton.

Stop it, Jul on!

Marc stepped between the mirror and me. He leaned back against the counter, and gently pulled me into his arms.

Ugly...

No. Jul on, you are beautiful!

I stiffened against such a blatant lie.

"Hey. Close your eyes and listen to me. You are beautiful...this body...is a lot better than it was.

Now, look again."

I reluctantly