Humans would call it a fairy ring. The fairies there called it Landing Zone Four. The thirty meter diameter dwarfed any casual fairy ring that usually appeared on Earth. Aside from having a somewhat nodular shape like a mushroom, the glowing transport nodes that made its circle bore only limited resemblance to the toadstools that made most fairy rings. The nodes glowed white-blue and shined some distance into the sky. Pale wisps whipped up from the nodes periodically, looking like they ought to sweep through the air with a swishing sound, when in fact no part of the fairy ring made any sound at all. It glowed, a bright ring of cold light, making the grey dusk outside of the ring look dark as night. Soon, supplies to outfit a reasonably sized military tower would emerge in the fairy ring, available for the use of the maneuver’s commander, the Base Auspex, whose name was Rime-on-Heartsease. Before that could happen, they had the fairy dust test to complete. The local the fairies had captured lay on a stone table in the middle of the fairy ring, silver chains tethering his slim body down. A fairy carried a syringe toward the prisoner. The new fairy dust formula had been mixed into a saline compound; the hypnotechs had discovered a liquid injection made the fairy dust compound mainline in the subject faster. Aside from the natural dejection expected from getting overpowered and chained to a stone table, the prisoner expressed no fear about the slightly glittering syringe moving toward his arm.
“Poor misguided soul,” Rime said. He put a hand on the prisoner’s shoulder. He meant the gesture as a comfort. When it came to it, though, he couldn’t think of anything comforting to say. Gripping briefly, Rime nodded.
The other fairy pushed the needle of the glittering syringe into the prisoner’s arm. All of the contents slid into the prisoner’s bloodstream.
It took swift effect. Rime had never seen it happen so fast, the drain of color so the subject looked frozen—the softening of muscles as if the subject slept. The thing that made it most uneasy to Rime was the quiet. It seemed like the wrong way to respond.
“Did he have a name?” Rime asked the other fairy. “Or, I mean, did you know his name?”
“Jericho,” the other fairy said.
Rime nodded. “Jericho,” Rime said. Jericho turned his low-lidded eyes toward Rime. “Jericho, can you hear me?”
Jericho swallowed. “Yes,” he said without much breath.
“Jericho, I need you to do something. Would you do something for me?” Jericho nodded again. “Hold your breath, Jericho.”
Jericho swallowed again. He closed his lips. His chest stopped its slow movement up and down. Rime waited for a second, just to make sure he was holding his breath. Then, taking a sharp and finalized breath, Rime said to the other fairy, “Tell me when he’s dead. We’ll start his outfitting as soon as possible.”
Rime left the stone table to send word back to Fairyland. He composed his report in his head. It began: Preliminary tests prove promising. Send more fairy dust…