The Chronicles of Han Storm

Chronicles of Han Preserving Creata Book1 Cover Page ISBN 001 Web Preserving Creata

 saturdayscenes Part 1 Chapter 4 preserving creata chronicles of han storm


Promoted from Rookie Uniforms to Psychic Detective, Han receives a crash course in his new function.

Preserving Creata Part One, Chapter Four


*** Four ***

    There were a million unanswered questions milling around in my throbbing head, when I finally discovered some commercial headache tablets at the back of my medicine cupboard.

    It was quite bare as I almost never got sick. Tucker watched me swallow two tablets with his excellent coffee.

    “I thought you were only picking me up tomorrow” I commented as I prepared to start my portion of food.

    “I’m afraid it is tomorrow already. Do you want to tell me you’ve slept right through?”

    I froze for a second between bites, working time out for myself.

    I’ve lost a whole day. This was a serious issue. I tried to hide my concern.

    “It looks that way. I must say, I’m feeling much better.”

    Tucker seemed relieved with this answer.

    Sensaii had his own opinion and it came through as *Liar.*

    Ignoring him, I concentrated on finishing breakfast. I had had nothing to eat since Stacey’s generous offer, and the breakfast that I had lost at the crime scene did not count.


    We did not start patrolling our turf, as I had anticipated.

    Instead, Tucker drove us straight back to Head Quarters. He felt it wiser to drive himself, until he was sure I was up to standard physical performance again.

    Sensaii was no-where in my perceptions, which was just as well, for I had not made up my mind how I felt about him yet.

    At the Precinct, we went straight to the Captain’s office.

    Racewater was already there, his rugged face gleaming with success.

    Tucker gave me an ’I told you so!’ look as we entered.

    Captain Truman pulled his hand through his hair, a definite sign of his irritation. Coming around his massive desk, he tried to smooth the creases in his tailored pants.

    “Well Tucker. It came to my attention that our young Storm is quite talented. As you are all probably aware, this will be kept strictly between us, for now.”

    He presented us both with badges.

    “Congratulations, you are now Detectives“ he announced. “You will report directly to Lieutenant Racewater. And Tucker, you will exclusively assist Storm with anything he needs.”

    Racewater continued to explain.

    “Like I’ve said before, I’m not entirely new to this psychic thing. I’ve worked with some people with amazing abilities. I also know the personal toll this takes. The Captain is prepared to put an extra man on his new asset. To help give Han the chance to grow his talents.”

    Turning to Captain Truman he stated “We will not disappoint you Captain.”

    The Captain dismissed us all with a gruff “Humpff.”

    Racewater escorted us to the basement of the building where Homicide resided.

    Showing us into the last office at the end of the corridor, he announced with some pride “This is an office I had cleared out last night.”

    Pointing to a prominent paper under the directly linked comm, he continued “That is a list of important comm numbers you might need. The coroner, sketch-artist, and mobile numbers for all the Homicide Detectives. Keep it handy.

    I’ve also taken the liberty to draw all the current case files we’re stuck with. I want Han to have a look at them. Maybe you can come up with fresh leads.

    Tucker, I suggest you move your belongings from your desk at Uniforms while Han starts on the files.”

    Both Tucker and I glanced over at the piles of files in one corner.

    “Yes, it’s in the boxes on the floor” Racewater confirmed before excusing himself to continue with his own work.

    Tucker looked at me with a sad smile and commented “Well, get to it, Han. No use wasting time, allowing the bad guys to get away. I’ll go fetch our stuff.”

    As Tucker’s bulk receded down the corridor, I had a look around the office.

    Two desks, facing each other, were surrounded by four straight backed chairs. A direct comm was situated on the desk nearest the door, with some filing cabinets at the back of the office and two huge boxes holding case files stood on the floor next to the desk furthest from the door.

    Obviously my desk, so that I would not exhaust myself too much reaching for the files, I suppose.

    In total, a definite promotion from the cubby hole we had.

    I picked up the nearest box, placing it on the desk.

    A sudden spell of utmost fear and dread almost overwhelmed me.

    “Sensaii?” I asked into the silence of the room.

    No answer, no sight or feeling of this traitorous new entity.

    Great, pushed in the deep end with no swimming instructor in sight.

    Despondent, I closed the office door.

    *It’s okay* the words sounded in my head.

    I turned around. Sensaii stood next to my desk.

    *This is a great opportunity to practice and grow your newfound skills. Come, sit* he invited.

    *One file at a time* he cautioned. *I’ll guide you through whatever happens. You’re quite safe. Before we start, I think it best for you to provide yourself with some brain energy food – chocolate will also help with fatigue as your body is not used to this work yet.*

    Great for telling me now. I’ve been literally living off chocolate the last few months.

    Suddenly a lot of things fell in place.

    Could it be that Tucker was right? That I really was coming into my skills only now?

    My thoughts were interrupted by a message on my comm. It was from Jack, thanking me for the payment of the repairs on his Rogue. I distinctly remembered not paying him anything.

    The missing piece of conversation when Slick was giving me my winnings suddenly played in my head. He had paid Jack out of my winnings! Alright. So one less item to worry about.

    I contacted the cafeteria and ordered a dozen dough cakes.

    Again Sensaii cautioned me.

    *Before we start. Become the observer. Do not get involved personally. This did not happen to you. Detach yourself from whatever you see or may experience. Be the Professional.*

    I did not answer, opening the first file.

    It was on a woman found strangled in her apartment. There was no sign of breaking and entering. The front door was open.

    I scanned the report.

    Nothing happened.

    I looked at the photos.

    Still nothing happened.

    I glanced over at Sensaii who encouraged me to continue with a flick of his wrist.

    The word ’essence’ came to me.

    I needed to concentrate on the essence of an entity to find that entity.

    Placing the photo of the deceased woman in front of me, I closed my eyes and touched the picture with the fingertips of my left hand . . .


    Immediately images started forming – and my headache started up too.

    I suddenly found myself transported, more like sucked, to the apartment, back in time to also approximately ten minutes before the woman’s demise.

    Strangely, this time, the images were presented in black and white.

    A man was at the door. The woman knew him and opened up. They talked. I could not hear any sound. Just the black and white ‘film’. The man suddenly went livid and grabbed the woman by the neck. The rest is history.

    I was pulled back into real-time by a knock on the office door . . .

    The girl from the cafeteria brought my sweets over.

    “I’m sorry to interrupt“ she told me. “You did not answer, so I assumed it was alright if I came in.”

    I paid for the dough cakes.

    “Thanks for bringing it all the way to the Dungeon” I told her.

    She laughed at my comment. It was a very happy sound in this dreary environment.

    “I’ve never heard that description of Homicide before. I think it is great.” She closed the door behind her.

    I devoured two dough cakes and felt instantly better.

    Returning to the report, I scanned it to see who else was under investigation. The woman had an ex-husband but there were no pictures of him in the file, so no help there.

    *Sensaii, why was this so different from yesterday’s vision?* I wanted to know from my spirit guide.

    *Today you are working with indirect contact. The response differs from one psychic to the next. No psychic has the exact same response. You might be able to relate to others with your gift in a sense that some of you experience visions similarly, but every vision is unique. It also depends on how old the energy trail is.*

    *Energy trail?*

    *Everything in the Universe leaves a trail of energy or particles, like footprints. If you can pick up on some-one’s energy or particle trail, you will be able to find any living or ‘dead’ entity on this Planet. You could even follow their trial to the Recording Halls.*

    So there you have it. I have now been promoted to a sniffer dog.

    Tucker returned with our stuff in a box and I shared my experience with him.

    This was a learning curve for all of us and he commented that “There are no set rules here. I just hope you do not have visions in cartoon format. I would be unable to explain that to the Chief.”

    After my experience, I did not think him very funny.

    Racewater retuned just after the re-telling of my experience.

    “Great news!” he blurted. “It turned out the Senator’s daughter had a secret lover. We brought him in for questioning as soon as we connected a surname to the name and description you gave us.

    He confessed almost immediately to Cheryl’s brutal murder.  There was a twist to the tale though. Apparently, the lover was paid by another politician to rough her up a bit, but it went totally out of hand and a lot of drugs were involved. So now there is a huge investigation, all triggered by Han.”

    “What do we do now regarding the case?” Tucker wanted to know.

    “Nothing. Han’s talents are much too valuable to be wasted on run of the mill stuff. He just needs to develop the leads. We’ll do the rest of the arrests and so on. You guys just figure out the clues”.

    See, as I suspected. A glorified sniffer dog.

    With that, Tucker relayed the essential facts of our first case file, as he saw fit to tell Racewater. We had not even had time to make notes yet, so all information was scribbled down in a hurry by Racewater.

    Racewater took the file and looked over at me. “I really think this is going to work. I’ll get the detective onto the new lead right away.  See what you can find on the other files.”

    Tucker insisted on me freshening up before starting on the next file.

    “It is totally unacceptable if you should crash on us like yesterday. I’ll start sorting the files in order of importance. Now go take a walk and I’ll have the next file ready when you return.”

    So I took a walk around Homicide as ordered.

    The detectives had separate offices for each priority case. Each office was similar to ours, except for a huge situation board filled with information on that particular case. I did not enter the offices. I had my own work to do and did not want to interfere in their current cases.

    I discovered that Homicide had a separate entrance that led to the side of the precinct. Poking my head out of the door, I confirmed the separate parking area for the detective’s vehicles.

    Two detectives entered the doors and gave my uniform a hard stare. I made a note to dress appropriately in future and hurried back to our office before someone complained that I was not working.

    With excitement, or was it nervousness, I took the next file.

    It was the tragic drowning of a little girl in a bath.

    The mother claimed she had left the child for a minute to fetch some soap and found the child drowned in the tub seconds later. The mother tried resuscitation, but to no avail.

    The emergency technicians responding to the call, as well as the coroner’s report could find no evidence of foul play. The file had not been closed as no formal inquest had been held yet.

    I quickly paged to the photograph of the victim. I looked up to check that the door was closed. Tucker was going through files, sorting them into piles.

    I braced myself and took the plunge back into ‘time’.

    Tucker was once again correct.

    Children were always personal.

    This was personal, and Sensaii did not interfere, allowing me to see and experienced through the little girl . . .




    I was fascinated by the bubbles in the water and wanted to reach for them.

    I stretched over the bath to trap the biggest bubble.

    No, still too short. Let’s use the potty.

    There, now I can reach.

    Suddenly I tip over.

    A crash against my head.

    Can’t breathe.

    I left my tiny body as my need for air increased.

    I looked at it once and then shot up at startling speed . . .




    The vision was over almost as soon as it started.

    I was shocked.

    Tucker’s voice, gently calling my name, brought me back to his attention.

    “What happened?” I asked him.

    Tucker looked uncomfortable for a while, not being a man of many words and now suddenly placed in a position as liaison between me and the common man.

    He plunged in bravely as he usually does with everything else – feet first.

    “You touched the photograph and your face went blank. A few seconds later a light shudder passed through your body and anyone would have been able to tell that you were shocked with whatever you saw, or experienced, or what the heck else you do when you go away like that. It’s downright scary!”

    I shrugged, not wanting to enter into any details on this one. I took a bite from another dough cake before I answered him.

    “The mother was not to blame. A silly, tragic accident caused by a pretty bubble and gravity.”

    Tucker was as stunned as me regarding the vision, but dutifully made a note that the mother was not criminally negligent and will have to live with herself for the rest of her life.

    We continued in this way the rest of the day.

    I had a crash course in controlling my own emotions, to be professional and not to get personally involved.

    Tucker took notes, made recommendations and gave suggestions as to new avenues to investigate.

    By evening, Racewater came to the office again.

    “Well, your leads are panning out already. Great job guys.

    Tucker, take Han home, he looks bushed.”

    “Yes. He is unconscious on his feet already” Tucker remarked.

    Tucker had to help me to his car and I fell into a deep sleep as soon as I hit the back seat.

    Tucker’s voice was comforting when he woke me.

  “Time to wake up. I’m strong, but I’m not carrying you three flights of stairs.”

    I managed to reach my apartment on my own steam and tumbled into bed, not even bothering to undress or eat.



    I woke up with a raw, dry throat and a hell of a headache.

    Something had woken me.

    I was not sure what.

    I lay there listening, battling to open my eyes.

    It was very, very quiet.

    Too quiet.

    I willed an eye open.

    Daylight was filtering through an opening in the curtain.

    When did I leave it open?


    Yesterday was a very long way away.

    It was still extremely quiet.

    It was day, so shouldn’t I at least hear some birds?

    Tucker stormed into the room.

    He was moving his mouth, but I did not hear a word.

    I frowned uncomprehendingly at him. What was the man doing? He placed a cool hand on my forehead. 

    I watched him going to the bathroom and return with a glass of water.

    He held my head and helped me sip some.

    The burning, dry sensation eased and hearing returned as if through a tunnel.

    “Han, stay with me. You’re very hot and we need to cool you down.”

    Yes, I felt hot and a cool shower would probably work.

    Tucker helped me out of bed and together we made it to the bathroom.

    I felt as weak as a baby and was unable to undress myself, so Tucker had to help.

    He seemed unhindered by my nakedness as he shoved me under the water, adjusting the temperature so that the  water was comfortably cool.

    I sat down, allowing the water to cool my body.

    It seemed to wash some of the fatigue away, enabling me to try and analyze the problem.

    “I think I overdid it yesterday and I did not have dinner either.”

    It was said more to myself than to Tucker, coming out as a croak.

    There was concern written on Tucker’s wrinkled old face. I was positive he had lost more hair since yesterday too.

    Smiling confidently up at him, I asked him to make us some coffee.

    “I became worried when you didn’t answer your comm device and your door“ he told me. “I’ll see to that coffee now. Oh, and by the way, your door was unlocked.”

    He left me in peace to ponder the new saga in my life.

    What had happened last night?

    I remember slamming the door behind me. I do not remember leaving it unlocked.

    I remember falling into, or rather, onto my bed.

    What then?



    Spirit plane?

    I think so.

    I could vaguely recall my spirit slipping out of my body. Then rows of pillars appeared.

    Yes, I remember!

    I had been there before. Those were the halls where I had met Sensaii, the Databank/Library where I and others of my awareness could browse for knowledge.

    I was sure that I had obtained or ’downloaded’ information.

    But what?

    I had no recollection of the content. It felt as if someone had just given me important information during a conversation but I cannot recall what exactly it was.

    I must have been summoned to the Halls of Knowledge by Sensaii.

    A great help he turned out to be. You work your butt off in the daytime and then you still have to study at night!

    When are you supposed to rest?

    *Whenever you can.*

    I had not meant it as a question, but Sensaii gave the answer anyway.

    I had sensed him since waking, but had tried to ignore him. There is only so much you can handle while feeling hung over.

    *Why am I feeling so ill?* I finally asked him.

    *It is your body’s response to the strain placed on it by the extra sensory input you are receiving.*

    This information only served to confirm my suspicions of last night.

    *I always thought that the body and the spirit planes were totally separate* I thought at the spirit entity.

    *While you are attached to an active, living body, the body cannot be separated from the spiritual experience. With practice, the body can ultimately become one huge receiver of energy particles, or, to put it in a different way, a psychic receiver. When trained properly, you can use it as a transmitter too.*

    The shock of ice-cold water assaulting my body blew the last cobwebs from my brain.

    No more hot water!

    I washed and dried quickly. Then dressed, still shivering, as fast as I could in civilian garb.

    I ignored Sensaii’s further attempts for my attention. He probably had more lessons, but first things first.





Copyright © H Gibson Chronicles of Han Storm. All rights reserved. 2009-2016

A full excerpt of Chronicles of Han Storm, Part 1 is available on Wattpad       


DMC Firewall is a Joomla Security extension!