An Officer’s Duty by Jean Johnson

How ironic that she, who had so little time to spare, was being forced by Time to be patient.
    Changing the subject, Ia gathered up the rings. “Obviously, something in my blood is enough to trigger precognitive episodes. And something in the shape of these lumpy rings does it as well, if not quite to the same degree. But combining the two makes it far more effective than either one alone.
    “The question is, how much of a combination will make it effective? I can’t exactly open up a vein and bleed myself to death; that’s counterproductive,” Ia stated, mulling through the problem. “I’ll have to experiment to see what size dose of blood is an absolute requirement, and experiment to see what size and shape of crystal is the best. Not to mention the differences between positive and negative reinforcement. And I’ll have to pull it off
before
I leave…and then figure out how to get
enough
blood into them…I don’t know. I don’t know how I could possibly fit enough blood into the few windows of opportunity I’ll have, the few times I’ll be coming back here.”
    “Not without bleeding yourself to death,” Fyfer agreed. “I may grumble and gripe, but I really don’t want to lose you. Particularly to something stupid.”
    She gave him a wry half smile. “Thanks.”
    Thorne shrugged, rubbing his chin. “Why not…make a whole bunch of tiny little spheres, and just have us ship ’em to you? Standardized sizes, each one dosed with a few drops, and you mix ’em up, resphere ’em, and ship ’em back to us? That way you can donate a few drops every day without worry about massive blood loss.”
    “Uh, presuming the blood doesn’t go bad in transit, that is,” Fyfer cautioned both of them. “That may be a factor you’ll have to consider.”
    Ia shook her head, fishing out her original bracelet from its thigh-pocket. “I bled on this one months ago, and it hasn’t changed color, let alone lost strength as far as I can tell. Not that
I
can tell much, since I can barely sense it augmenting my abilities…but based on your reactions, it’s still quite strong.”
    “A literal drop in the bucket of your abilities, no doubt,” Thorne agreed, eyeing her from head to toe. He lifted his chin at the rings in her hands. “Figure out how much blood you need, and how big a crystal ball or bubble to preserve it, then go from there.”
    “A ball, I’d think. And…only a marble in size. I can always combine little spheres into large ones, but a bubble would only let the blood spoil. Blending it is what seems to preserve it.” Lifting her gaze to the crystals surrounding them, she tried to calculate how much she would need. “I’ll need to convert several dozen mature sprays, at the very least…but that’s a task for another day.”
    “Have you given any thought as to how you’ll explain shipping all those beads back and forth?” Fyfer asked his sister.
    Ia shrugged. “Something along the lines of ‘holy beads’ shaped and blessed by an active-duty warrior, something-something local religious beliefs. I
am
listed as a Witan priestess in my Service records, for all that I’m not serving as a chaplain.”
    “We’ll back it up, if anyone calls home and asks,” Fyfer dismissed, flicking his hand.
    Thorne nodded in agreement and pushed to his feet, stretching. Ia, still seated on the ground, started gathering up the tainted and clear scraps of crysium, stuffing them into her pockets.
    Fyfer stood and stretched as well. He scratched his stomach, then shrugged and tipped his head. “Watching you mold that stuff while you were in your little trance reminds me of an old saying…”
    “Oh? Which one?” Ia asked, looking up at him. The slightly bloodied, crystalline knife they had used finished dulling and turning into an oblong, safe-to-handle blob in her fingers.
    “That any sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic. I know you said—or rather, implied—that it’s some sort of