It was a cold, still night; unusually so for August, even in Massachusetts. The pine trees were eerily silent, only whispering when an errant breeze disturbed their branches, carrying with it their strong, rich scent. The moon was just starting to wane, and its light fell unimpeded through the dark, cloudless sky, casting stark shadows on the forest floor and reflecting in gentle ripples from the nearby pond.

A scuffling noise emerged from the nearby trees as a raccoon made its way across the wet ground. Its attempt to move quietly notwithstanding, the veil of silence retreated from the boorish intruder, leaving a conspicuous rift. Conscious of this the animal moved swiftly and nervously, its eyes darting here and there with obvious apprehension.

Suddenly, as it was about to step onto the empty bank, the creature froze. No new sounds penetrated the darkness, nor any visible disturbance, but the raccoon could sense that something was wrong. If someone had asked (and it could answer), it might have mentioned a strange metallic taste, almost below conscious perception, which lingered offensively on its tongue like the aftertaste of a brass coin. It sniffed delicately, sensitive whiskers feeling a fresh draft. The night air, once still and clear, was now filled with gentle eddies and currents flowing strangely and unpredictably. Spooked, the raccoon darted away noisily before the first blue spark shimmered to life behind it.

Bright sparks now illuminated the once tranquil shore, gathering intensity, quickly growing to form arcing bolts of lightning which grounded noisily in the wet sand. Moisture hissed as it evaporated into steam, the air seething with sound and electricity; a stray bolt struck an outstretched branch, which exploded with a loud crack into flames. The air, once redolent of pine and algae, was contaminated by the smells of smoke and ozone.

In the centre of this maelstrom grew a dark, shining mass, smooth and spherical, increasing rapidly in size until it was nearly four feet in diameter. The lightning diminished, fading away as quickly as it had started, while the sphere dulled to a steely grey. It remained for only a second before cracks appeared on its surface, the structure swiftly dissipating into nothing. The ground where it once lay was now glowing red hot, inducing yet more steam to make its sibilant escape from the once damp sand. There, lit by the glowing sand, the luminous moon and the flickering flames of the burning branch, a pale human shape remained — still, curled into a foetal position.

Slowly, smoothly, the figure rose to its feet.

o—O—o

Teddy surveyed the landscape, casting blue eyes over the rippling water and inscrutable trees. The fire ignited by his arrival was spitting and dying, the damp wood unable to sustain combustion. As the noise diminished in volume, silence began to reassert itself on the pale, moonlit shore.

Sensing that the vast pond lay to his north, the boy quickly got his bearings. Route 93 would lie to the east, winding on south towards Boston; knowing that the surrounding terrain would be wet and marshy in places, he stepped out of the sizzling crater and set off in that direction, moving gracefully through the trees. As he flitted in and out of shadow, his progress could be seen only by glimpses of moonlight gleaming on his naked skin, sparkling briefly whenever it fell on his blond hair. Tall, lithe and purposeful, he ran through the wet undergrowth with uncanny assurance, not once tripping or colliding with anything in the darkness. His eyes glowed softly with a blue-green light, vigilant for any obstacles which could impede his progress. Soon enough he could see the lights of the highway, confirming that he had selected an optimal vector of approach. As he got closer he adjusted his course, following the road's passage south to Boston.

Boston, where his target was soon to arrive. Boston, where he would locate William


This is the first instalment of a story which will probably span several chapters. Although I was spurred to start writing by the arrival of the "Sarah Connor Chronicles" series, I actually had the idea much earlier, soon after I finished reading the first season of YA ("Sidekicks"). I'd be interested to see what people think of the crossover, and whether they see potential in it; I have most of the plot fairly sketched out, but it took a surprising amount of time to write just under 700 words, and the action hasn't even started yet. So if you would like more — or wouldn't mind sharing your first impressions — please review!