Jake & Chearice: Homecoming

By John W Partington

Wedding bells are planned, but there’s the question of who to invite? Chearice takes it upon herself to track down Jake’s family so they can be part of the festivities. In that process the couple discover some disturbing secrets about Jake’s past, and a new plot that threatens the Omni-verse. The race is on, and the ultimate prize could be domination of the universe, every universe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John W Partington
• Release date: Apr 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9781989973585

John W Partington

I have been writing for most of my life: as a child, as a soldier, and now as an independent author. My favourite colour is purple. I have two cats, who choose to annoy me most when I am trying to write. I'm a middle aged white dude suffering from psychosis, but with medication am perfectly stable (except for singing to my cats).

Book preview

Jake & Chearice: Homecoming

John W Partington

Published by John W Partington

Jake & Chearice: Homecoming

© John W Partington 2024

ISBN: 978-1-989973-58-5

Thank you for choosing to support an independent author. This is a work of fiction. It’s all made up, but please respect the work of this author. Any reproduction of the material in this book requires permission of the author.

Acknowledgements

Note from the Author

Chapter One – Coventry

Chapter Two – Dinner

Chapter Three – Mew York City

Chapter Four – Mars

Chapter Five – Boaty McBoatface

Chapter Six – Peace

Chapter Seven – Marketville

Chapter Eight – Ice Mines

Chapter Nine – Hellas Planitia

Chapter Ten – Peach and Peas

Chapter Eleven – Aftermath

Character Short: The Stoutbacks

Character Short: Day One of Six Months in Space

Character Short: Foiled Plans

About the Author

Also by John W Partington

Suggested Reading

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my editing team: Lori Holloway, Hanan Omar, and Gerry Kroll. They each bring their own talent to editing, which allows me to write the story unfettered by fear of a dangling participle. I get to concentrate on story telling.

Note from the Author

The opportunity to name a character was auctioned off for charity. Jeremy outbid everyone else in the silent auction, and decided the name he wanted enshrined in the Omni-verse was: Boaty McBoatface. Boaty is a likeable but unlikely character with an unusual name. There is, on our Earth, a real Boaty McBoatface, who happens to be an undersea submersible exploration probe.

Chapter One – Coventry

Jake, I’ve got a problem I need you to take care of, Tyson said from the entrance to Jake’s cubicle. Jake looked up at the eight-foot-tall sasquatch leaning against the wall. Tuesday was right on schedule; problems always started on a Tuesday and were resolved by Friday. Unless it was a major problem—that might take a couple of weeks.

Is it likely to get me killed? Jake asked. Jake was the only human in the Department of Interdimensional Affairs. He was a Project Officer responsible for monitoring, overseeing, and enforcing interdimensional policies and programs. This usually meant briefing others about problems that needed solving, but lately Jake was the go-to guy with a blaster strapped to his hip.

Why would you ask that?

Because every time you have a problem, I end up in a life-or-death situation, Jake replied.

Name one, Tyson laughed.

Cell phones, Jake answered immediately.

Name another.

The Nygaard.

That’s only two, Tyson laughed again, though a little less enthusiastically.

Your son’s career day at public school, Jake cited.

That wasn’t my fault.

All I’m saying is that when you have a problem, I end up in the hospital. I’ll deal with your situation; I’d just like to know what I’m getting into. Is it likely to get me killed? On a scale of one to ten, where one is a stubbed toe and ten is certain death, how much danger am I in?

Six, Tyson answered.

Six?

Five?

You said six.

Well, maybe like a five-point-five, Tyson suggested.

That’s six with rounding.

Okay, so six.

So there’s a sixty percent chance I’m going to die, Jake stated.

It’s unlikely.

What’s the problem? Jake sighed, ending the debate.

Lambda-Twenty-One and Mu-Three have been at war for decades, Tyson said. They’re ready to bury the hatchet.

And you want me to deliver the hatchet? Jake asked.

They’ve asked for an impartial arbitrator and advisor on the peace process. You were specifically requested by both sides.

Me?

Yeah. The Lupine trust you because Sabre-Claw is one of the more important tribes and you were their leader for a brief, though unapproved, time.

That was not my fault, Jake said.

So you concede that sometimes, like at a job fair, shit happens that isn’t anybody’s fault?

Okay. I agree, in principle, that you were not responsible for one of the several near-death experiences you’ve sent me to. Why do the cats want me?

I don’t know, Tyson admitted. Your name came up and they agreed. Normally this would be assigned to someone with more experience, but both sides want you. Try not to fuck it up.

So, two dimensions that have been at war for the better part of a century suddenly want peace. There’s something going on that you’re not telling me.

I’ve told you everything, Tyson said.

Then there’s something they’re not telling us. Let me do some research.

Get your team ready, Tyson advised.

My team? Jake asked.

Well, three people is a team.

It’s just me and Juno, and she’s only here for the rest of the term. She’s a student.

Oh, I forgot to mention: I’m assigning you a new partner. That makes three of you. That’s a team, albeit a small one. This, he ushered a lanky, silver-furred cat into the cube from behind the wall, is Miss Whiskers. She’s your expert on Mu-Three. Your task is to ensure interdimensional peace between violent rivals with a blood feud going back centuries. Get on it. Tyson left while Jake and Miss Whiskers stared at each other for a moment.

You’re not planning on killing me, are you? Jake asked.

No, she answered. Why would you even ask such a thing?

The last partner Tyson assigned to me shot me in the back and then tried to kill me a second time when I went after him.

Don’t forget he probably shot you in the head during the first raid on Fenikkusu, Juno said as she came to the cube entrance. Her mane of vibrant blue hair offset the green of her scales in the morning light filtering through the windows.

Juno, this is Miss Whiskers, our expert on Mu-Three politics. Miss Whiskers, Jake said.

Please, call me Karless, the cat interrupted.

Careless Whiskers? Jake asked.

It’s spelt with a K. My parents were big fans of late twentieth-century Delta-Four pop culture.

That explains… nothing. Sorry. That’s five hundred years before I was born.

I know. It’s ancient history, but it’s a pretty great song.

What’s up, Juno? Jake changed the subject.

Term is up in a month, and I’ve graduated.

Congratulations.

That also means I’m out of a job and off the team when you probably need me most, unless you bridge me from student to full-time employee.

Oh. Jake’s face dropped.

Problem? Juno asked.

There’s a hiring freeze on the Capital budget, so we’re not allowed to bridge students or hire full-time employees. I could hire you as a consultant from the Operations and Maintenance budget, but you wouldn’t get benefits or pension.

But I like benefits, Juno replied.

You fucking whore! a warbling voice echoed across the cube farm, startling Karless.

Don’t worry, Jake smiled. It’s only Martin turning off his computer with the voice command. He didn’t read the manual before setting it up and got a little frustrated. It must be coffee time.

What’s up, dudes? the giant slug oozed into the increasingly crowded cube. Karless shrunk away from Martin as the slug started to drip slime on her fur from one of his tentacles.

My term is ending, Juno replied. Jake is trying to figure out how to keep me on.

What’s to figure out? Martin asked. Just hire her.

It’s not that easy to get an approval, Jake sighed.

Dude, you report to Tyson.

Tyson’s not that big a fish in this pond, Jake replied.

True, but you also report in a solid line to the Director and the Deputy Director. They could make it happen with a snap of their talons.

Yeah… I forgot about that.

Bro is connected, Martin slapped Jake on the shoulder, leaving a greasy stain.

Leave it to me, Jake assured Juno. Did you want something, Martin?

It’s coffee time. I wanted to chill with my posse. How are the wedding plans coming?

You’re getting married? Karless asked.

Yes, Jake answered.

To whom?

To me, Chearice appeared at the cube entrance. She smiled at Jake, her fangs glistened with venom. Jake’s heart skipped a beat.

A Corbellian, Karless whispered.

Can we talk? Chearice asked Jake.

Sure, Jake answered. Juno, could you show Karless around and get her a cube assignment? Martin, you… you go be Martin somewhere else.

Sure thing, dude. Mrs. Dude. Martin gave a mock salute that sent slime splattering across a cube wall before making his remarkably messy exit.

Follow me, Juno said to Karless. Chearice glided into the visitor chair. They sat there staring at each other until Jake broke the silence.

What’s up? he asked.

It’s about the wedding, Chearice smiled broadly. I’d like to have a maid of honor and two bridesmaids.

Okay, Jake agreed.

That means you’ll need three friends to stand by your side. Do you even have three friends, Jake?

I must. There’s Mouse, Martin, and… Jake paused. A giant cockroach strode past in the hallway, his antennae weaving and bobbing over the cubicle walls.

Xixs! Jake shouted.

What up? the roach backtracked to the cube entrance.

Want to stand beside me at my wedding? Jake asked.

Do I get to bring my wife?

Sure.

Can I bring two wives?

I think that can be arranged.

Can I bring all seven wives? Xixs asked. They all like weddings, and I don’t like to play favorites.

We’ll give you your own table, Jake promised.

Sure. I’ll be your best man.

Uh, I hadn’t gotten that far yet, Jake admitted.

So, you want me to be an usher? That’s a demotion, but I’ll take it. I like weddings too. I must, if I’ve had seven. Let me know if you need help with planning. I’m pretty great at problem solving, and everyone knows that anything that can go wrong at a wedding does go wrong. Coffee dude, my lady. Xixs left the cube.

I’m covered, Jake said.

Mouse, Martin, and Xixs? Chearice raised an eyebrow.

It’s a wedding party. Who are you having stand by you?

Sasha, my sister Becky, and a blank spot for a fallen friend. Sandra.

I’m sorry, Jake leaned awkwardly across his desk to hold Chearice’s hand.

She died the way she wanted to: in battle.

She was with me at the time, Jake said with a hollow voice.

Jake, Chearice replied softly.

We have to deal with this, Jake said. Not now, at work, but soon.

Come over to my place tonight. We’ll talk. She got up to leave.

What did you come to ask?

It can wait until tonight. Come by around seven. Bring a change of clothes and plan to spend the night. With a faint waft of vanilla, she left the cube.

The hover-cab touched down on the roof landing pad later that evening. Jake got in with a modest overnight bag packed with a change of clothes and a toothbrush. He had a couple of outfits at Chearice’s place, but they needed replenishment.

Chearice’s apartment? Crate asked as Jake settled into the back seat.

Yes, please, Jake answered. Am I getting that predictable?

It’s great, Jake. You’re supposed to be predictable when you’re in a stable relationship.

Crate, can I get some advice?

Don’t take Broadway. Despite the name, it’s a narrow flight path that is always clogged with traffic.

I mean relationship advice.

I’m a cab driver, Jake, not a bartender.

You’re a cab driver with a degree in pan-dimensional relationship counselling. I need some of that right now.

That’s a valid point, Crate agreed. What can I do for you?

I have to tell Chearice how her friend died in battle saving my life during the Bass-arall. I also have to tell her that at the time I was, by Lupine standards, married to Sandra and she was carrying my child. How do I tell my fiancée that?

You mean without her popping spurs and dicing you into Jake-meat?

Yes, Jake agreed. I’d rather not be Jake-meat.

I think you’ll find that things that happen under Bass-arall are considered forgivable as long as you complete the tradition. I also believe that the best person to understand Corbellian traditions is a Corbellian, and that Chearice has a soft spot for you. She’ll at least be willing to listen.

You’re saying talk to Chearice, Jake summarized.

That’s what I’m saying, Crate confirmed as the cab approached Chearice’s building. Crate touched down at street level and Jake thumbed the fare with a generous tip.

Thanks for the advice, Jake climbed out of the cab as a boom of thunder crashed in the clouds. Rain started to pelt down as the sky got darker.

Foreshadowing, Crate smiled, baring a truly horrific maw full of fangs. The cab lifted off while Jake hustled under the awning and went inside the apartment building. Jake pressed the apartment buzzer without enthusiasm.

Come up, Chearice’s voice sounded hollow over the speaker as the door buzzed open.

Jake! Chearice smiled as she opened her door. Jake started to shuffle past her, but she made no move to get out of his way. Instead, she pressed her body close to his, each feeling the heat of the other. You’re wet, she said.

It started raining, Jake replied.

Maybe we should get you out of those wet clothes.

I brought a change.

That’s not what I mean, Chearice grinned.

Oh, Jake smiled, then frowned. We need to talk.

Are we breaking up? Chearice gasped.

Not that I’m aware of.

Usually when a man is offered sex and comes back with ‘we need to talk’, it’s bad news, Chearice explained.

I do have bad news, Jake admitted. I’ll understand if you want to break up after I deliver it.

What could be that bad? Chearice led Jake to the couch.

I slept with Sandra, Jake started.

We’ve discussed that a bit, Chearice replied. You were under duress with an army to command conditional on that outcome.

But by Lupine standards we were married after consummation.

I know, Chearice answered.

You know? Jake asked.

Yes. And I know she died in battle, you told me that, but I also know she was carrying your child.

You know all that?

Yes, Chearice said.

How? Jake asked.

I got a text, Chearice pulled out her phone, pulled up a text thread, and handed it to Jake. It read: Chearice, my dear friend. We are now sister-wives, and you will be my baby’s Goddess Mother. I can’t explain now, but Jake was forced into this and I hope we can all live with it. He’s a good man in every sense of the term. There’s room for everybody. I love you and him.

So you knew, Jake sighed. She must have sent this while I was rallying the troops. Why didn’t you confront me?

It doesn’t change anything, Jake. I still love you, and I know you love me. I figured you just needed time to process and would bring it up when you were ready.

Oh. That’s very gracious. What did you want to talk about tonight?

Nothing. I’d rather talk over breakfast. Your clothes are still wet.

The next morning, Jake prodded at