In the shadow of a scarlet moon

by Tamari Erin

Cyrus sat alone in the Hypersthene‘s darkened observation deck, one of the privileges of his rank. The ship sat in a low geostationary orbit around an unnamed moon, and only a brief arc of its curvature was visible through the obs deck’s great convex viewport. It hung low like an overripe fruit, limned by the red glow of the coronal eruptions that had forced the Hypersthene into hiding.

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by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)

Only one of the beds in the infirmary was occupied, at the very far end of the ward. The curtains were drawn around the bed, and a lone medic stood in wait outside.

Continue reading “Mirrored” »


The Horror From The Deep: 10th Anniversary Special Edition

by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)

The rain hammered on the roof of the car. It fell in sheets on his windshield, obscuring what little of the road his headlights had lit up. Carter tried to start the engine yet again, and swore as it sputtered and grinded noisily and died again. He slammed a hand against the steering wheel—

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Summer Heat

by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)

illustrated by beili


by beili

Alain lazed on the rattan chaise longue by the edge of the pool. One of his feet dangled off the chair and he watched the ripples spread out from where he dipped his toes in the water. The weather was so beautiful—it was dry and hot, and the sky was as clear as a glass lake—that he could easily spend all day out here.

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The Queen of the Sunken City

by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/355044.html)

The room shook, and Mitsuki lunged for a railing. Her needle-gun slipped from her fingers and bounced off the metal catwalk to plunge into the darkness of the vast control centre.

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by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)
illustrated by beili

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/350270.html)

The birds erupt from the wheat fields with the suddenness of a falling blade.

One moment Sebastiano is staring up at the vivid blue of the summer sky, and the next all he can see is a maelstrom of black feathers, circling the convoy like a living wall.

Continue reading “Possession” »


A Patchwork World

by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/49248.html)

Esmah tripped, her foot catching on something hidden in the tall grasses.

Rill stopped running as soon as he realised she was no longer by his side.

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by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/57945.html)

This follows the events in ‘A Night in Blue’ from the December ’06 issue of Bang*Bang.)

Simenon held the field-glasses to his eyes. A trail of sweat oozed past his right eye and he alternated squinting and blinking furiously in an attempt to divert its path. The desert air shimmered in the heat, blurring and reshaping the horizon like the reflections in a rippling pond.

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The Horror from the Deep

by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/45434.html)

Carter surged to his feet when his cousin entered the small parlour. “Henry!” he exclaimed, a slight nervous squeak to his voice. He had never liked his uncle’s house, and being here after so many years he found that his opinion had changed little.

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The Eagle and the Frost Giant

by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/38880.html)

As a child, Alain had never like New Year’s Eve. It was his mother’s favourite holiday, and for her sake, he’d tried to enjoy — or at least pretend not to hate — its pageantry and wild abandon. She’d take him with her to buy their masks and though he’d been vaguely frightened by the blank, eyeless faces — ranging from the mundane to the fantastical — he was touched that she was always willing to share with him her costumes when she wouldn’t even tell his father. Alain’s mother had fiercely upheld the tradition of secrecy — what was the point, she would say, of wearing a mask if everyone knew who you were under it?

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A Night in Blue

by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)
illustrated by 草庫

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/32718.html)

Second Lieutenant Simenon had enlisted in the 6th Company of the Infantry Corps in search of glory and adventure, to travel the world and see the ruins of its many former wonders. As the third son of one of the lesser noble houses, he wouldn’t have had very many chances to do so otherwise. He’d chosen the 6th Company for their reputation — they were the bravest, the cleverest, the most valourous. Of all the companies in the Imperial Army, they were the one sent in when the situation was at its direst. And with all the minor border skirmishes flaring up these days, Simenon knew he wouldn’t be lacking for danger. His mother’s sister, the Senator Biatha, had pulled strings to make sure he got in. He thought he had his life set out.

What he never expected when he walked into the company’s mess hall for the first time was to see his new comrades gang-raping one of their own.

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Under The Mistletoe

by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/9225.html)

Bobby stared at himself in the bathroom mirror and adjusted the headband another time. try as he might, he just wasn’t able to get the mistletoe to hang straight. When it wasn’t listing to the left or to the right, it drooped down in front of his face, which kind of defeated the purpose.

He’d borrowed the headband from his room-mate’s girlfriend (“I hope you don’t expect this back, J, I will do horrible, horrible things to it.” “It’s okay; I never liked that one anyway.”), and he’d bought the mistletoe — plastic — at one of the dollar stores in town. A coat hanger stolen from the basement laundry room twisted into a hook shape held the mistletoe so that it hung about a foot up and away from his face. The other end of the hanger, he’d stabbed into the hairband, in the vain hope that it would be enough to keep it straight.

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Along The Desert Path

by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/5925.html)

Dusk came quickly this late in the season.

The priest lay on his back and watched the clouds trail across the now-aubergine sky. This was the first time he was able to see the sky clearly since he began his pilgrimage. He’d taken only a few steps along the path when the wind began to rake sand across his face. The storm had been particularly vicious, and had lasted hours, showing no signs of stopping until the sun began to set, when it died almost as suddenly as it had appeared.

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by Tamari Erin (玉里えりん)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/1346.html)

Dante’s clothes still smelt like the maintenance tunnels, of oil and must and secrets. At the rate the MRBs cleaned the station, Asiel’s body wouldn’t be discovered for another few months.

The scabs around his new port began to itch. Dante dragged a fingernail over them and down the back of his neck, cursing the ham-fisted surgeon who’d grafted it in for him, and the desperation that had driven him to such a crude technology. With Asiel dead, Dante was cut off from a large part of the nets, restricted to only what his own brain could handle without the intermediary of an interface.

Continue reading “USER//interface” »