THRILL ING TALES FROM BEYOND BEYOND THE ETHER
“Tulon Staon” “Tulon Sta on” by John M. Whalen “Stealing the Rose” by Ian Stewart
The Adventures of the Sky Pirate: “The Friar of Briar Island,” Part 01 by Johne Cook Memory Wipe Chapter Three: “To the Stars” by Sean T. M. Sennon
Issue 06 September 15, 2006 “Blue Cluster: Frozen Worlds,”
by René Mulder
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Table of Contents Overlord’s Lair: Firefly and the Art of Theme, by Johne Cook and Paul Chri Christian stian Glenn 3 Tulon Station, Station, by John M. Wha Whalen len 4 Stealing the Rose, Rose, by Ian Stewart 11 Featured Art Artist: ist: Rene’ Mulder 21 The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, Pirate, The Friar of Briar Island, Part 1, by Johne Cook 24 Memory Memo ry Wipe Chapter Three: To the Stars, by Sean T. M. Stiennon 33 The Jolly RGR RGR 49
Overlords (Founders and Editors): L. S. King, Paul Chrisan Glenn, Johne Cook Ray Gun Radio: Taylor Kent - founder, director, and producer, all things audio John “JesusGeek” Wilkerson - RGR Disinformaon Specialist
Venerable Staff: A.M. Sckel - Managing Copyeditor Paul Chrisan Glenn - PR, sounding board, strong right hand, newshound L. S. King - copyeditor, proofreader, beloved nag, muse, webmistress Johne Cook - art wrangler, desktop publishing, editorials, chief, cook, and bole washer
Slushmasters (Submissions Editors): Taylor Kent, Sco M. Sandridge, David Wilhelms Serial Authors: Sean T. M. Sennon, Lee S. King, Paul Chrisan Glenn, Johne Cook Cover Art: “Blue Cluster: Frozen Worlds,” by René Mulder Without Whom... Bill Snodgrass, site host, Web-Net Soluons, admin, webmaster, database admin, mentor, condante, liaison – Double-edged Publishing
Special Thanks: Ray Gun Revival logo design by Hatchbox Creative Visit us online at http://raygunrevival.com All content copyright 2006 by Double-edged by Double-edged Publishing , a Memphis, Tennessee-based non-prot publisher. Rev: 20060915d
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Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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Overlord’s Lair: Firefy and the Art o Theme , by Johne Cook and Paul Christian Glenn Paola Corso writes about the art of integrating theme and story in the August issue of The Writer magazine: “it’s not the who, what, where, and when, but the why that gives meaning and elevates your writing to a thematic level…finding the significance behind what happens in a story will give it dimension and resonance.” The Overlords have been thinking a lot about the role of theme in new space opera, and Joss Whedon and Firefly are never far from our collective attention. attention. This Editorial plays with the idea of ‘theme’ and the Firefly TV series. What follows are thoughts plucked from all three of us, and the particularly brilliant bits are as likely as not from Overlord FireflyFellow, a film director in his own right. One of the things Joss does so well is marry themes to characters. In an ensemble situation, you’ve got any number of themes to play with, but they all function to support the overall theme of the series. Joss is a bit sneaky, and just writing that statement is, itself, an understatement. With Joss, you don’t realize that he’s had a theme working until later when you can’t get something or other out of your head. For instance, we’ve never thought about a show after watching it as much as we have Firefly. Firefly. It’s one of the reasons we keep going back. There’s always something waiting for us, something new to chew on. Also, that’s an interesting quandary for some of us, as we tend to write from themes, rather than looking for for them after the fact. Usually any given story idea begins with a theme, not a character,, event, location or whatever character whatever.. It’s fascinating to observe that Joss went home and wrote the lyrics to his theme song first , before writing the pilot, before anything else. Think about it—he got his inspiration for the rest of the
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series from his theme song. It’s right there, not after-the-fact, written by a studio musician, but something deliberate, written first by the creator creator.. So with that setup, the Overlords were musing one day and started to try to determine some of the obvious themes for the various episodes. It’s worth noting that we didn’t agree on all of these, and that we are admitting up front that there are many more that we haven’t thought of or embraced yet. We thought it would be an interesting exercise to go through and try to sum up the one-word theme for for each episode. For example, ‘Ariel’ could be well be ‘loyalty.’ Without further ado, here’s one stab at the thematic elements of Joss Whedon’s Firefly TV episodes: 01 Serenity (Pilot) – family 02 The Train Job - integrity 03 Bushwhacked – what does it mean to be human (expository) 04 Shindig – being out of place 05 Safe – sacrice 06 Our Mrs. Reynolds – lust 07 Jaynestown – glory 08 Out of Gas – love of others 09 Ariel – betrayal 10 War Stories – trust 11 Trash – greed 12 The Message – jusce 13 Heart of Gold – the danger of love 14 Objects in Space – revelaon
We have much more to say on this topic, but those musings won’t fit in this editorial, so I’ll publish those thoughts separately in the forums for you to chew on.
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"Tulon Staon," by John M. Whalen
Tulon Station by John M. Whalen ome on, before they change their “Cminds, minds,” ” the man said.
She could not take her eyes off the rear view
The woman looked up at him and then at her
recede in the distance, praying they did not
Tulon captors. The man had put a laser-sighted
get into their hover vehicles and come after
electron rifle, three thermo blankets, six pairs
them. After what she’d endured the last two
of Krylor boots, and a case of Thompson Synth-
weeks, she could not n ot face that again.
mirror on her door. She watched the Tulons
whiskey down on the table. He was a tall man,
Finally satisfied they were not in pursuit,
lean and hard-looking, dressed in a blue tunic,
she let out a sigh and sat s at back in the seat. She
dark grey pants, and knee-high Krylor boots.
looked over at the man who had bartered for
An electro-pistol was strapped to his leg in a
her.
Velcro holster. The Tulons, six of them, dirty, smelling of foul living, and dressed in their customary desert garb, stood nodding their heads, thinking what a good deal they had made. She got up from the floor where they had
“Thank you for getting me out of there,” she said. “Yes, ma’am,” the man said, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “Who are you?” “Brand, ma’am,” he answered.
kept her chained to the wall. The man took
“How did you find me?”
her by the arm and led her out of the hut
“I heard the Tulons had a woman captive,”
into the hot desert sunlight. They walked to
he said. “They’re usually willing to give up a
his Hover-Jeep. He let her open her own door
captive, even a female, in exchange for things
and got in behind the wheel.
they really need.”
The leader of the Tulons and one of his men came out of the hut and stood there looking at them, as he started the vehicle. She was
She smiled ruefully ruefully.. “I guess a woman’s life isn’t worth very much on this planet,” she said.
afraid, the way they looked at her. She felt
“No, ma’am,” he said. “Nobody’s life is
the Jeep lift up and then they were moving.
worth much here. This is an oil-rich planet
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Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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"Tulon Staon," by John M. Whalen that made the most of the Earth’s dependency on fossil fuels. The oil companies sent
“And you risked your life without knowing anything about me?”
exploitation teams and made this one of the
“I know what the Tulons do to their female
richest planets in the galaxy. But when Earth
captives,” he said. “For a couple of weeks
converted to Digital Atomic power, this place
they would have kept you alive for their own
went bust. Nobody needed oil anymore. The
satisfaction, but eventually, being short of
oil companies went bankrupt and left Tulon
food, they’d have killed you. I couldn’t let that
high and dry. The Tulons were left to try and
happen to any earth woman.”
exist anyway they can.”
“I see,” she said. “Then I guess I should
She looked at him carefully.
introduce myself. I’m Myra Steele. My father
“You almost sound sorry for them.”
is Jessup Steele, CEO of Virtual Fuel. I was on
“They’re victims as much as anybody else.
a transporter on the way back to earth. I was
It’s the big corporations that are to blame.
here closing down the last fuel development
First it was the oil companies, now it’s the
site Virtual bought out from Trans-Exxon last
Digital Atomic conglomerates. Everyone’s at
year. The transporter crashed. I was the only
their mercy now.”
one who survived. Those savages found me
“Well, I’m sure that at least one of those
wandering in the desert. I tried to tell them
conglomerates, as you call them, will make
who I was, and that they could collect hand-
your rescue of me well worth your while. As
somely if they contacted my father. They just
Senior Vice President of their interplanetary
laughed. They have no phones, no radios.
development division, I’m sure Virtual Fuel
They said they didn’t care about money. money. They
must have posted a substantial su bstantial reward reward for my
treated me like a slave. They—”
return.”
She suddenly was unable to talk, as the
“Could be, ma’am.”
memory of the last two weeks flooded over
“You don’t know?” she asked.
her.
“There isn’t much in the way of communication out here,” Brand said. “Then
how
did
you
know
“Where are we going?” she asked, after I’d
been
kidnapped?” “Like I said, I’ I’d d heard they’d th ey’d taken taken an earth woman captive. I didn’t know it was you.” you.”
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“Best not to talk about it, it,” ” Brand said. she’d pulled herself together. “There’s a relay station not too far away,” he said. “We can stop there. I brought along a change of clothes for you. You can get cleaned
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"Tulon Staon," by John M. Whalen up. Then it’s a long trip out of the desert to the Transport Center. You can catch another ship back to Earth.”
“You can wash in this,” he said, pouring water from the ten-gallon can. “I’ve got food
#
“Tulon Station,” Brand said. She looked through the Hover-Jeep’ Hover-Jeep’ss dirty windshield and saw a small, silver, domeshaped building ahead that looked totally abandoned. Brand pulled up in front of it and cut the power. The Jeep sank down on the sand and they got out. The sun was still fairly high in the t he sky, and temperature temperature was close to one hundred Fahrenheit. Brand opened the trunk and lifted out a canvas sack. He tossed it to her. “There’s a fresh tunic, pants, and some sandals,” he said. “You can go in there and change. There won’t be any water, but I brought this.” He lifted a ten-gallon can out of the back of the vehicle. He carried it to the station. He pushed the stainless steel door open, and saw a scorpio-pede skitter out into the sand on its hundred legs. The place was a mess inside. It had once been a café, where oil workers stopped on their way to and from drilling sites. But now all the windows were gone, the tables were overturned, broken dishes lay shattered on the lunch counter. Brand went back into the kitchen and came out carrying a
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stainless steel pot.
in the Jeep. I’ll bring it.” A half hour later, later, she sat at one of the tables, drinking water from a cup and chewing on the Synth-Steak bar Brand B rand had given her. her. She was dressed in the clothes he brought, which, amazingly, fit her perfectly. “How’d you know my size?” she asked. “Didn’t,” he replied. “Just lucky.” She looked over at him, as he sipped water from the tin cup he held in his gnarled hand. She judged he was in his late thirties. But something about him made him seem much older. His face was lined and creased, and there were flecks of grey in his dark brown hair.
“Where are you from, Mr. Brand?” she asked. “Back on Earth, originally from Utah,” he said. “I came here as a kid in the big oil boom. Worked for Tr Trans-E ans-Exxon. xxon.” ” “Rigger?” “Little bit of everything.” “When was the last time you were home?” “Never went back,” he said. “Been here twenty years.” “Where do you live?” she asked. “Anywhere I can,” he said. “You can call me a desert rat.”
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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"Tulon Staon," by John M. Whalen “Must be a harsh existence.”
thought that was your Hover-Jeep out there.
“Harsh,” he said, “but clean. A lot cleaner
Fancy running into you. Fancy.”
than life back on earth. And despite what you might think, a lot more peaceful.” “But surely you must miss civilization,” civilization,” she said. “What could possibly keep you here?” Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of roaring engines outside. Brand got
“Hello, Dancer,” Brand said. “I might have known it would be you. you.” ” Dancer looked at her now, his eyes devouring her inch by inch. When his eyes finally got to her face, he grinned. “Ms. Steele,” he said.
out of his chair and she followed him to one
He looked back at Brand.
of the windows. She saw three land rovers.
“Should have known you’d beat me to
Unlike Brand’s Hover-Jeep, these were old
her.”
fashioned four wheelers with combustion
He looked back at the men behind him.
engines. But like the Hover-Jeep they ran on
“Boys, meet Jack Brand,” he said. “Every
gas and oil. On Tulon gas was free and there
body just calls him Brand. We go back a long
was plenty of it.
ways. Don’t we, old buddy?”
Three men got out of rovers. They were big men, with electro pistols strapped to their
“That’s “Th at’s right,” right,” Brand said. “But I don’t recall that we were ever buddies.”
legs. They wore denim pants, Krylor boots.
“I guess that’s true enough,” Dancer said.
Two wore tank tops and one wore no shirt
“Matter of fact, you were the one mainly
at all. All three had scarves tied around their
responsible for that time I spent in Tulon
foreheads, Apache style.
Prison.”
“Who are they?” she asked.
He turned to the men with him.
“Trouble,” Brand said.
“See, Brand here worked for Trans-Exxon
The door opened and the men came into
security,” he said. “Seems somebody made
the station. The man with no shirt came in
off with a payroll, and ol’ Brand arrested me
first. He was bald, muscular, and had bright
for it. But I told ‘em I never had nothin’ to do
blue eyes. The other two followed him, and
with that robbery.”
all three stopped when they saw her and
“You were found guilty.”
Brand standing there. The man with no shirt
“They never found no money. If I did that
looked Brand up and down. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “Brand. I
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job, what I do with the money?” “There was evidence. Your fingerprints.
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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"Tulon Staon," by John M. Whalen And the bullet from your gun matched the one found in the payroll guard.” guard.” Dancer grinned. “Fancy that,” that,” he said. s aid. “Well, what’s the use
“Fancy that, boys,” boys,” he said. “Outnumbered three to one, and he figures he can take all three of us. Fancy.” Myra Steele could stand it no longer.
goin’ over all that after all this time? The main
“What’s wrong with you men?” she
thing is that now you got a chance to make it
screamed. “Are you all crazy? Are you such
up to me, Brand. A chance to wipe the slate
greedy pigs that you’ll kill each other just so
clean.”
you don’t have to share the money? Stop it.
“How’s that?” Brand asked.
If it’s the money you’re worried about, I can
“Simple,” Dancer said. “Just hand her over
guarantee that my father will pay double
to us and let us take her in for the reward
what he’s offered, if I ask him to. This isn’t
Virtual Fuel is i s offering. You You do that I might let
necessary.”
you walk out of here.”
Brand moved away from her, keeping his
“Just like that.”
eyes on the three men. He stepped sideways
“They’re “Th ey’re offering a sizeable amount for for this
until his back was to the lunch counter and
woman,” Dancer said. He started to move to
the three bounty hunters stood facing him
the side and the men behind him spread out
with the windows at their backs.
on his right and left. “A million Euro-Creds. Seems her old man owns the outfit. He’s so worried about her he r, price is no object. object.” ” “A million, huh?” hu h?” Brand said. “That’s “Th at’s right. Funny thing. It’s dead or alive. Seems as if her old man is so upset, he just won’t feel right again until she’s either back safe, or he has proof that she’s no longer alive. Kind of foolish of him, if you ask me. But that’s the way it is.”
“Three “Th ree million,” million,” Myra said. “Four million. A million for each of you. Just don’t do this. this .” “Hear that, Brand?” Dancer said. “Four million Euro-Creds. Ain’t that somethin’?” “It’s not too late, Dancer,” Brand said. “Just take your boys and leave.” “Not likely,” Dancer said. “We’ve got things to settle.” As if he’d given some unseen signal, all three men suddenly reached for their electro
“I’ll give you one chance, to turn around
pistols. But before any of them could even get
and get out of here, he re, while you still can,” Brand
the weapons clear of the holsters, three blue
said. “Don’t make me have to kill you. you.” ”
rayss zapped from the muzzle of Brand’s pistol. ray
Dancer grinned.
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Three loud reports sounded as the rays burnt
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"Tulon Staon," by John M. Whalen large black holes in their chests and they flew back against the wall. They lay unmoving on the floor, floor, smoke rising from their bodies. Brand stood crouched, the Teflon-coated plastic gun in his hand. Satisfied they were no longer a danger danger,, he holstered the weapon and looked over at her. She glared at him in contempt, as he went over to the fallen men. Dancer was still alive. Brand lifted him up. Dancer’s blue eyes looked up at him almost with amusement in them. “Four million,” he said. “Fancy—” Brand let him down. “Are you happy now, Mr. Brand?” Myra said. “Now you don’t have to worry about not getting your full share of the reward. It’s all yours. You’ve been lying to me all along, haven’t you? You didn’t tell me you were a security agent for Trans-Exxon. You acted like you didn’t know about the reward my father posted. You You made me believe you were some kind of hermit who’d turned his back on Earth to live clean in the desert. But it was all lies, wasn’t it? You just proved that you’re no better than anybody else. All you want is money.” Brand stood up. If her little tirade bothered him, he didn’t show it. “We’ve four hours of daylight left,” he said. “We can make it to the Transport Center before dark. We better be on our way.”
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#
They rode in silence the next four hours, as the Hover-Jeep raced over the desert. And as twilight spread its purple and orange light across the sky, she saw the lights and towers of the Transportation Center. Brand looked over at her. “For what it’ it ’s worth,” worth,” he said. “I didn’t know about the reward. I didn’t tell you I’d worked in security for Trans-Exxon because I didn’t think it was important. And the reason I killed those three wasn’t money. Dancer wanted to settle an old score. Even if I’d I’d turned you over to them, they’d have tried to kill me anyway. And if they’ they ’d succeeded, they th ey would have had to kill you, as a witness to murder. Your father made a mistake making that reward dead or alive. They wouldn’t have had anything to lose if they killed you.” you.” She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sure she believed everything he’d just told her. Brand docked the Hover-Jeep and she got out. They were greeted by a Customs officer. officer. “Brand,” the officer said. “How have you been, old man?” “Sam, this is Myra Steel,” Brand said. “I believe her father is looking for her.” A half hour later, she stepped out of the Customs official’s official’s office, a thin strip of plastic
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"Tulon Staon," by John M. Whalen in her hand. She expected to see Brand sitting
out at the dark desert beyond the Transport
where she’d left him, in one of the waiting
Center. A half moon revealed the distant
room chairs. She wanted to fling in his face
mountains and the long stretch of barren
the check her father had statted her. But he
sand that stretched endlessly to the horizon.
wasn’t in the waiting room. She turned to the
She thought she saw the tiny sparkling light
Customs Official.
of his Hover-Jeep making its way in the dark.
“Where did he go?” she asked. “Brand?” he said. “Probably back out on the desert. He doesn’t like it where it’s too civilized.” “But what about his money? He killed three th ree men to get it.” “Money doesn’t mean much to Brand,” Brand,” the
John M. Whalen John M. Whalen’s stories have appeared in the Flashing Swords E-zine, pulpanddagger.com , and Universe Pathways magazine. Contact the author here.
official said. “Not much use u se for it out there. there.” ” “I don’t understand,” she said. “Why did he do it then? Why does he stay out there?” “He’s still looking for her,” the official said. “Who?” “His sister. She worked at Trans-Exxon Security too. She got taken one day about ten years ago. The Tulons. There’s thousands of them out there. Different gangs, families. Some a lot worse than the ones that took you. Whenever he hears about a woman being held by one of those gangs, he rides out to see if it’s her.” She stood there in stunned silence. “After all this time, though,” the official said. “I don’t think he’s ever going to find her h er.. But still, he keeps looking.” She ran over to a window and looked
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Issue 06, September 15, 2006
"Stealing the Rose," by Ian Stewart
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Stealing the Rose by Ian Stewart
I
was zipping up my Captain’s tunic as I
I nodded as if in agreement, sending a
walked briskly around the corner and
different message to each of them. The strange
nearly ran into an imposing figure with a
thing was that I had the distinct impression
granite jaw and expressionless grey eyes.
that he wasn’t buying it for a minute, and told
Seeing that I was trying play it cool, I
myself that I was imagining things.
blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
In classical paintings, the ‘nimbus’ was a
“Well, if it isn’t the new Security guy,” I
radiant light that appeared as a halo over the
said cheerfully, cheerfully, and then smiled to show that I
head of a saint or sacred person. In modern
meant nothing by it. My cheesy grin bounced
military equipment parlance, the Nimbus was
off his stony silence and evaporated, and
a Black Ops thought communication tool that
I knew in that moment that we were in Big
had only been successfully tested between
Trouble. The waves of displeasure radiating
members of the opposite gender, and was
away from him were strangely palpable.
exclusively issued to lovers because of the
He’d obviously heard this one before. He
intense connection between people.
spoke in a deep, flinty voice. “I’m not a Security
The size of a grain of rice, the Nimbus was
‘guy,’ I am Dock Officer Qarl Tammeson, and
injected under the skin and started transmit-
today I’m keeping the dock area in order.” He
ting as soon as it reached body temperature,
looked me in the eye. “What are you doing?”
which is to say, almost immediately.
And then, after measuring me quickly up and down, he grudgingly added “…Sir.” Security guards have no sense of humor , I
observed to the voice in my head. Shari responded in kind. I wouldn’t let
In practical use, the Nimbus made for some interesting exchanges. For instance, it’ it ’s hard to describe the sensation of a whistle in your head, such as the one I was ‘hearing.’ ‘hearing.’ Humorless is right , she said, especially if
him hear you call him a ‘guard’ if I were you.
you’re former Special Forces, and that’s just
Officers aren’t especially known for their levity
what’s on the record. There’s a four year gap
on-duty. ‘Tammeson,’ he said?
here that suggests something even more
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Issue 06, September 15, 2006
"Stealing the Rose," by Ian Stewart secretive. You might want to give this one a wide berth, she said. I got that last part by myself, thanks, I
Pg. 1 I may have been acting the part of Anson, but my role as the Captain was genuine, if not, strictly speaking, spe aking, ‘legitimate.’
thought wryly, but it didn’t really translate,
Now , please, I thought. You can just make
thus reinforcing the old adage—there’s no
it if you hurry . She didn’t respond, which
laughter in space.
either meant that she was on her way, or
“I’m preparing to head out. We’ll be out of
already captured. captu red. I was hoping for the former form er..
here shortly,” I said, and then realized that I’d
We were risking enough as it was. Which
said ‘we.’
reminded me…
It was his turn to nod. “Which is your ship?”
I wagged one lazy index finger in his direction. “You’re just the man I wanted to
“The Summer Rose of Amistastia. We call
see, Officer. I have it on good authority that
her the Rose for short, and she’s the best ship
an attempt will be made today to steal the
this side of the galactic tail.” It was the sort
Rose.”
of thing a fly-boy Captain might say, just the right touch of breezy arrogance. arrogance. More to the point, it was not the sort of thing a thief would say say..
He stared at me. I’d have loved to know what was going on behind those calculating eyes. He spoke slowly, almost coyly, in the fashion of law enforcement types every-
Retired thief , she thought at me, and I
where, allowing one just enough rope to hang
thought of how we acquired the thought-
themselves. “I haven’t heard anything. How
tech, and smiled despite myself. myself.
reliable is this tip?”
He looked at me expressionlessly, then
I looked at him with all earnestness and
consulted his sleeve. “The Rose is helmed
said, “Ours is very expensive information, and
by M. T. Anson,” he said, and looked at the
I’m quite sure it is correct—someone will try
‘Anson’ emblazed on the uniform I’d taken
to steal this ship within the next twelve hours,
from the man now stashed in the closet
and I intend to make sure we lift off without
around the corner. corner. “Captain Anson?” he said,
incident.”
and it was a statement more than a question, almost as if we both knew it wasn’t true. I smiled and bowed, perhaps deeper than I should have, but he had this coming.
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All that was true enough, but bu t not remotely the way I made it sound. At that moment, a lithe young woman rounded the corner on the run. I said, s aid, “Excuse
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
"Stealing the Rose," by Ian Stewart
Pg. 1
me,” to Tammeson and backhanded her as
but if my imagination was to be trusted, his
she passed me, lifting her up off her feet and
gaze gaz e was squarely on me and his furious stare
slamming her against the cold steel corridor
could have drilled holes in the back of my
wall.
head.
I turned back to speak to him but a rowdy
I heard an explosive sound and I didn’t
buzz had started and my words caught in my
quite jump, but it was just Tammeson rehol-
throat as I heard her crumple to the floor. floor.
stering his baton. It was the first sign of overt
An activated sonic baton emits a signature sound and leaves an indelible memory. On
emotion from him, and I figured that was a Very Bad Thing.
the one hand, I was very pleased that he
I’d underestimated him, however. “I’ll
didn’t nail me with his baton then and there.
return shortly, shortly,” he said in a steely clipped clipp ed tone,
On the other, the active baton was pointed
and abruptly stalked off down the corridor,
right at me.
the de-activated baton thwapping against his
“Put that away,” I snapped. “She’s my vassal.”
leg as he walked. He turned a corner and his footsteps echoed off down the corridor.
He met my eyes and any rapport we’d
I rushed to her and dropped down on one
developed before, however sketchy, was
knee. I tenderly took her hand and helped
long gone. He glared at me for a good, long
her up. “Poured it on a bit thick, don’t you
moment and then deactivated his baton.
think?” I said brushing her he r hair back from her
I realized I’d been holding my breath. I
face, anxiously searching her face. “Are you
tried not to make a big deal about that and
hurt?” My voice was full of jovial bluster to
strode forward to stand over the woman.
cover the anxiety parked like a brick in the
“You’re late,” I snapped. “You were told to prepare for lift-off. This will cost me money, and it will cost you, later tonight!”
back of my throat. t hroat. My gal is decisive; I’ll give her that. She kissed me firmly to put my fears to rest,
She whimpered and averted her eyes, a
however,, it was real blood that I tasted on my however
dribble of blood leaking down from the right
tongue. I guessed it was from hitting the wall,
side of her lip.
because I’d barely touched her.
“On your feet!” I barked, hiding behind my bravado. She shot a pleading look at Tammeson,
Ray Gun Revival
She was way ahead of me, as usual. Her eyes sparkled and her voice was playful when she replied. “It takes more than a pulled slap
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
"Stealing the Rose," by Ian Stewart and a staged body slam to get the better of me.”
Pg. 1 better,” she said. “This was supposed to be the easy part!”
I smiled, hoping I was convincing. She
I replied.
was no better a liar than I was, especially in
She nodded, winked, and strode back
Nimbus-link. Shari thought all this was quite
toward the ship, working it just a little,
fun, while I was feeling like I’d just invited the
knowing the effect she had on me. In Nimbus-
eternal enmity of one who could make life
link, there’s nothing to hide when nothing
very difficult for both of us, for all of us. I very
is hidden. I could spend the rest of my life
badly wanted to never see him again.
watching her walk around with the beguiling
At least one of us was having a good time.
swagger of a free woman.
Shari saw me thinking and grinned impishly.
I had actually turned away when I sensed
It was strange how she knew my mind so well
alarm. I whirled and saw her jump back from
even when we weren’t physically together,
a box and stare. I was already running when
but that’ that ’s one characteristic of the Nimbus— Nimbus —
I saw the stranger appear to her right. I was
actual proximity had nothing on the intimacy
yelling when I saw him step forward and strike strike
of the mind link.
her,, driving her back. her
Something shimmered in my vision. “It’s
The blow knocked me out of my sprint in
not a danger ,” , ” the Training Officer had said
sympathetic response. As I struggled to keep
to her, “it’s a feature a feature..”
my feet, I saw/felt Shari trip backwards over a
I shook my head to shake off the osmosismemory.
It
was
strange
‘remembering’
memories that belonged to someone else.
crate, fall hard to the cold steel floor, and was still, and I felt her pain as I staggered toward her.
I wondered which of my past memories
I was so focused on her that by the time I
haunted her, and decided that I didn’t want
sensed something to my right and skidded to
to know kn ow..
a stop, it was too late. I felt the cold industrial
“If you’ll get the rest of the supplies loaded on board, I’ll arrange the launch codes with the Dock Authority,” I said. “With any luck, we’ll be underway before Mr. Dock Officer Security Guy Tammeson shows up again.” She grinned. “The sooner we’re gone, the
Ray Gun Revival
plastic muzzle of a blaster roughly scrape my temple. “No sudden moves, you,” said a voice unknown to me. “Hands behind your neck!” “What’s going on?” I grated, slowly complying.
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
"Stealing the Rose," by Ian Stewart
Pg. 1
“We’re stealing your ship, Captain,” he
cations back home, and no one was the wiser. wiser.
said, and I had just enough time to stop and
The Golden Age was a cruel façade covering
appreciate the irony before something kicked
the greatest across-the-board destruction of
like a mule and my day turned into night.
human rights in history. history. People became the new cash crop, and
#
Slavers. The very word made my stomach roil. When
humankind
finally
leapt
into
space for parts unknown, there was a great optimism about what we could do, about the potential to reap vast personal fortunes from fast, cheap space travel and uncharted planets. We had the technology, we had the resources, we had the motivation—it looked like a new Golden Age. But as fast as computers became, reliable metal laborers were still far more expensive than the human variety, and it soon became clear than any prosperous venture would require some degree of sheer grunt labor, and lots of it until we could build and ship appropriate machinery to help do the heavy lifting. The good news is that there were billions of such willing to take the gamble on space life, and corporations willing to ship them there. The bad news is that the corporations got richer if they didn’t pay them. Those who controlled the space liners and the comm-sats and channels carefully regulated all communi-
Ray Gun Revival
pirate outfits sprang into business stealing ships, kidnapping people, and hiring them off as brute laborers doing the massive and menial work of creating the new colonies, building the new space stations, settling the new planets. This ship must have seemed like a prime target. The Rose already contained ten thousand sleeping citizens from all walks of life, waiting for the moment of their awakening in a galaxy of great promise, not knowing that some hundreds of them had already been awakened and pressed into service as slave labor in preparation for shipment to yet another new colony. It was chillingly simple, and the men that held us up had the th e same idea as others before them. I muttered an unmentionable word under my breath, feeling my arms tied behind my back. He had a pinched, rodent-like face and a weird accent. “Now-now, Captain, you’re hardly one to sit in judgment. We know that you’re in the same boat as we are, making money off a ‘captive ‘captive audience’. audie nce’.“ “ He snickered,
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
"Stealing the Rose," by Ian Stewart
Pg. 16
plainly mimicking somebody else’s clever-
going and the ties around my wrists behind
ness. “This time, you’re going to ride in back
my back kept me from putting my arms out.
with the rest instead of up front with us. us.” ”
As a result, I lurched up and pitched forward,
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” time,” I said evenly evenly,,
and then I caught the deck with my face.
my heart sinking. I fought to keep keep the despair from my face. He came forward and got in my face. “That “ That there is what you call ‘irony’,” he said. You have no idea, I thought. Ugh, she sent, and I could almost taste the
blood from the left side of her mouth. My heart surged when I realized she was conscious. I also felt the strange urge to pee. Stay down, I sent, but I knew that was
pointless, a symbolic gesture at best. I knew my girl. My captor grabbed my jaw and roughly examined both sides of my face. Then, over his shoulder, “This one’s a bit banged up but otherwise salable. Check Ch eck on the woman. woman.” ” I heard footsteps, then “Hey “Hey,, she’s OOF—” and I felt the ghost impact with my foot and travel trav el up my leg. l eg. It wasn’t hard h ard to know what she’d done. Thanks, Shari, but please find someplace to hide—you’ve just become a target.
It’s bad enough to feel helpless by myself. Now I was feeling helpless from both of us. I had to do something. I sprang to my feet, or started to, but the ties around my ankles tripped me before I got
Ray Gun Revival
#
The words corresponded to the pounding in my head, Jack . Jack! JACK! The thought was somehow so oppressive that I couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t breathe. Your pain! I can’t…
Oh, yeah, I had to be broadcasting my pain all over the place. I didn’t blame her for cutting the connection, even while knowing what it cost her to do so. The Nimbus is no respecter of niceties. Clearly, saving her myself wasn’t going to work. I was going to have to do something else. But what else could I do? However, even while I should have been thinking about alternatives, something else was niggling around the edge of my awareness, and then I had it. Despite the pain in my face and the blood in my mouth, something else was wrong. I could detect a Nimbus connection even though she’d turned hers off. So that was the question; if she had deactivated her Nimbus, who was it that was walking up the hallway? And as a follow-up question, who else around here had an active Nimbus connection that I
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
"Stealing the Rose," by Ian Stewart could possibly hone in on?
Pg. 1 And that’s when the collection of niggling
My eyes flickered open and I set the
clues rolling around in the back of my head
mystery of the Nimbus aside for the moment
came together and I finally realized that I
and concentrated on more pressing issues,
knew what it was: Black ops, his own Nimbus,
like how to breathe with Rat-face’s Rat-face’s bony knee
watching me instead of her her,, waves of displeadisple a-
digging painfully into my chest.
sure, not being fooled...
“Where’d she go?” he yelled over the din of the conveyor belts that were somehow
Oh my deity, how could I have been so blind?
running. I’d missed then being activated,
My eyes left Rat-face and I looked past him
somehow. “There’s six of us and two of you,
although I knew the answer even before I saw
and your time is running out. Tell me what I
Tammeson come into my field of vision.
want to know right now.”
It occurred to me that he was onto me, and
I looked him in his beady little eye and got
now I was onto him, but he wasn’t onto me
the message; tell him what I knew or I’d never
being onto him. It also occurred to me that I
draw a full breath again.
was beyond lightheaded by this point.
It wasn’t so much a thought as a realiza-
I’d never heard of successful Nimbus con-
tion; the entire left side of my face hurt, my
nections within gender, much less between
nose was aggrieved, there was blood in my
total strangers, and yet...
mouth, my lungs were already starting to
I tried to focus my eyes and looked past
tingle, and my chest hurt where he leaned on
Rat-face’s knee, and there he was, quietly
it with his knee.
taking it all in.
Despite all that, I realized that I’d rather
Dock Officer Tammeson was squatting
die than sell her out, and rested content with
behind a crate and he was looking right at me
that determination.
with a clinical dispassion, apparently none
Especially since I had no idea where she’d slipped off to. My vision was starting to go and my
the worse for the mental wear. He nodded, once. My hunch was correct. Now what?
thoughts got all mixed up and fuguey, like
Six , I thought. He continued to look at me,
when I’m just starting to slip into a dream-
waiting. So much for that. I closed my my eyes.
state when I’m not fully awake, not fully
They were closing anyway.
asleep.
SIX!
Ray Gun Revival
Six! I thought.
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
"Stealing the Rose," by Ian Stewart His eyes snapped wide open and his fingers
Pg. 1 grateful grate ful for that, but he wasn’t done.
shot out, five on the left hand, the index on the
Looking down at me, he deactivated his
right. I sensed this through Nimbus feedback
baton and extended his left hand and pulled
instead of seeing it.
me to my feet, pressing a pistol into my hand.
He nodded once and rose to his feet. He
I noted that it was set to a stun setting.
loosed his baton from his hip, slipped the
He split his fingers into a V and pointed
loop over his right hand, and spun it briefly
at his eyes. Watch me. Yeah, I got that. He
with his left hand to take up some of the slack.
didn’t seem surprised.
Then he walked into the room and stepped
He took the one on the left, and I took the
into the light. He radiated calm, which, under
one on the right. I waited until Tammeson
the circumstance, was the polar opposite of
started his swing and then took my guy with
‘safety.’
a snap shot to the th e back of the neck. However, However,
He tapped Rat-face lightly on the shoulder
as our two went down, the final one got
with the sonic baton. My persecutor twisted
away. I started to go after him but Tammeson
around to look and got a full dose of noise
waved me off and let him run. “He’s not going
upside his head. It snapped his head around
anywhere,” anywhere, ” he said, and I believed him.
and he crumpled back and fell in a heap behind
Five minutes minu tes later, later, the Rose was back under
me, his energy weapon falling toward the
our control, and Shari joined us from over by
deck. Rolling forward with a dexterity known
the conveyor belt that she’d started while I
to wall-ball players, Tammeson snapped the
was out, and we arrived at the moment I’d
pistol out of thin air and then bounced nimbly
been secretly dreading.
to the balls of his feet. I took a great rasping breath and my eyes snapped open. Tammeson did that twice more, walking up to a slaver, tapping them on the shoulder, and then putting them down with his baton. That left three more. I’d gotten my breath back enough to sit up. Officer Tammeson returned to me long enough to loose my wrists and ankles. I was
Ray Gun Revival
I hoped to Sanctuary that I wasn’t broadcasting that all over the dock. #
He said “Well, ‘Captain Anson, An son,’’ we’ve successfully avoided one theft... theft...” ” “Well done, Officer,” I said, and then carefully raised my hands as he turned and trained his weapon on us. He came over to retrieve his stunner and I saw him look at my
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
"Stealing the Rose," by Ian Stewart wrist as he took it out of my hand, and I hoped my sleeve was covering the tattoo. “Therefore,” he said, “that just leaves the original plot to deal with.”
Pg. 1 fleeting thing. He changed the subject. “You said you knew there was going to be an attempt to steal the Rose today, but you weren’t counting on there being two groups
I looked at Shari and wondered if she
vying for the same vessel at the same time. I’ll
was able to read my mind without using the
give you this much—you were right about an
Nimbus. Her crestfallen expression was clear
attempt on the ship. Taking your statement
enough without it.
at face value, after leaving you earlier, I went
“The real Captain Anson is actually the man who brought me here,” Tammeson
and found their ship and impounded it—it’s not going anywhere.”
said, “…but there’s no way you could have
That made sense to me. It explained where
known that. Nor could you have known that
he’d gone earlier, and why Tammeson didn’t
the Security Officers have their schedules
chase the one remaining slaver just now—
switched at random to avoid little payoffs like
there was nowhere left to run. The remaining
this one. My predecessor will be removed, of
slaver was trapped here just as thoroughly as
course. I suspect he’ll be allowed to keep his
the sleepers he sought to enslave.
thirty pieces of silver but will be sent packing on the next ship out of here. “Which brings me to you two. Yes, I was eavesdropping on your Nimbus,” he said, and that gave me the opening I’d been looking for.
Tammeson continued. “What you didn’t tell me was that you were the group who were going to steal the Rose, and why. That’s why I came back, to put things in order.” The way he said that sent shivers down my spine. Shari held me tight and looked up
“We know you’re ex-Floda Squad,” I said,
at me with brimming eyes, but didn’t send to
“but that’s not all, is it? There’s more that’s
me. “Good girl,” I thought to myself. I would
not on the record.” He looked at me without
miss her her..
replying. I took that to as a ‘yes. ‘yes.’’ I continued.
I was thinking along these lines when he
“I’m betting that the Military had the
spoke again, and I almost missed it. “In my line
Nimbus developers put in some kind of ‘back-
of work, I know what the tattoo on one’s one’s wrist
door’ functionality that nobody else knows
means, the brand of an enslaved person.” person.”
about it.” He smiled for the first time, but it was a
Ray Gun Revival
I said nothing. He continued. “You know, know, I wasn’t planning on leaving the kind of ‘work’
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
"Stealing the Rose," by Ian Stewart
Pg. 0
I was doing, but I received word from Terra
thinking. “The real Captain Anson earned a
that my youngest brother was coming to see
reputation as a cruel opportunist. Perhaps
me on his way to Florimel Five, and I discov-
his reputation will fare better after today,” he
ered that I was looking forward to seeing him
said. Then, turning and measuring me with
on his way through.”
his eyes, he nodded his head to himself and
He looked at me with those deep, expres-
abruptly said, “Well, I’m going to go see to
sionless eyes. “I received word later that his
the escaped slaver.” He looked me square in
ship had been stolen in transit. It’s likely that
the eye. “I expect that you’ll be here when I
instead of the freedom of the colonies, he’s
return.” Then he spun on his heel and strode
discovered the slavery of the very corpora-
off, his military boots click-clicking down the
tions that ultimately u ltimately paid my wage.”
cold steel hall.
I blinked. This wasn’t going the way I’d
It took me a moment to realize what he had
feared. I discovered that I was starting to
said, and more to the point, what he hadn’t.
hope again.
I slowly dropped my arms, took Shari’s hand,
Tammeson continued. “I resigned and
and started running to the Rose.
spent four years tracking down lead after
That’s when we heard it. It’s hard to
lead until all my leads and all my savings dried
describe the sensation of a whistle in your
up. I had to find someplace central, so I came
head, but we both sensed it at the same time,
here as a last resort and took a job for an
and smiled.
arguably shady employer where I stood the best chance of uncovering certain jobs. Like
Somewhere, Dock Officer Tammeson was whistling.
this one.” That made sense to me. This Th is was a remote
Ian Stewart
but crucial way station to the stars, and he was perfectly positioned to get news of his brother if such were remotely possible. I knew, as he did, that it was the longest of long shots. I also knew the lengths that desperate people would go to win freedom for them-
Ian Stewart claims to be a missionary on furlough from Mongolia, with a life-long love of space opera. Husband of one, father of two, friend to many, Ian is truly a man of imagination. This is the first story to bear his name.
selves or those they loved. Tammeson
Ray Gun Revival
turned
away
from
me,
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Pg. 1
Featured Artist René Mulder Name: René Mulder a.k.a. Ray Falling Age: 21 Hobbies: Writing, drawing (both digital and traditional,) video games, photography Favorite Book / Author: To be honest I don’t read a lot, but the books I have read and remember enjoying are: Starwars Episode 1, and part 2 and 3 of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Favorite Artist: That’s a tough one; there are many artists online on deviantart.com whose works I enjoy. I would not know who to pick as my true favourite. I do tend to appreciate artists who take less original subjects and turn them into something so unique and new and personal you’d wish you came up with that yourself. When did you start creating art? I would think as a kid. I have always been very creative. At a young age I drew my first 3D cars and trains on paper. If I would be caught not paying attention, it would be because I was drawing. What media do you work in? For my sci-fi work it’s Photoshop all the way, the digital media. I do still draw my characters and vehicles on paper using my good ol’ fineliners. Eventually I hope to extend to using a tablet and draw my designs in Photoshop as well. Where your work has been featured? My work can only be found on my deviantart account. I am fairly unknown as a sci-fi artist, mostly because my main subject is, in fact, sky photography. It is very hard to get noticed for something when you made a name for yourself for a complete different type of art. I am proud to say actually that Ray Gun Revival magazine is the first to feature my work.
Where should someone go if they wanted to view / buy some of your works? My work can be viewed in my gallery at http://r http://rayfalling.devian ayfalling.deviantart.com/g tart.com/gallery/ allery/. That link takes you to my Prints. I do not have any sci-fi work available for sale at the moment; however, I can tell you that I am going to work on making many m any of my spacerelated works available very soon. New works can be Ray Gun Revival
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Pg. expected soon too. I do take requests, so people could ask me for specific pieces and I can get right on it.
How did you become an artist? I don’t actually consider myself an artist per se, but my dream started around when I was 10. I’ve been drawing for as long as I can remember, sky photography turned from random interest into almost an obsession two years ago. I started digital sci-fi works last year after spending some time on deviantart.com What were your early influences? Videogames and possibly cartoons. What were your current influences? Dreams, my mad imagination, and videogames. What inspired the art for the cover? I am working on a project called “Dragonstorm.” As a kid, I got this idea for a character. I made that into a videogame idea. I started making comics. As I grew older, the character evolved, it grew over time and changed until it was reborn into this new, epic sci-fi story sometime the last three years. It’s always on my mind like an obsession; it is my life’s work. At some point I found my skills to draw comics to be lacking. Just recently I’ve started thinking and decided to turn it into a novel—best choice I ever made. made . The story has been in my head for many many years, but the worlds, the creatures the scenes, everything needed to take visual shape. So I started making a guide where I would talk about every possible detail I need to know in order to start writing a novel (after all, a writer needs to be descriptive, descriptive , too). I started with the history, the background story, then I created the planets that appear in the “project Dragonstorm” galaxy. I had done several space scenes before, but not of the quality I could be happy with. But this new guide inspired me to make specific art depicting the scenes and worlds the characters of the story come across. This particular piece is more or less a mood board, to give me inspiration and a good image of what the galaxy would look like. It is part of a series, all of which can be found in my gallery on deviantart. My favourite is this piece called Eclipse Cluster: Inner region
How would you describe your work? I like to say unique, colourful, fantastical, not necessarily the best out there, but I fully support my style and choice of medium. The thing with art that has been done before is, it is necessary to look at others before you start yourself. For me it is important to eventually take a different turn and create your own style and technique. There are gorgeous space works out there but I often see the same things, using the same techniqu techniques, es, same composition, same tutorials used. My work is just starting to blossom really; I have the ideas, some skills and a lot of resources.
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Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Pg. Where do you get your inspiration / what inspires you? My greatest inspiration is the sky. I am a great fan of sunsets and clouds and the sun, I’m sensitive to atmospheric changes and the feeling they give is truly inspirational. All I have to do is close my eyes and all these ideas rush through my head. Dreams have also inspired me in the past. Many of the things I do are project Dragonstorm-related, so obviously a lot is inspired by the story I already have in my head. New ideas often come from walking around my room thinking, almost acting/playing the scenes. Videogames helped me a lot too, I’m trying to take existing concepts and turning them into something unique.
What have been your greatest successes? I’m still a small time “artist.” At first it was more or less for fun. Being on deviantart.com has helped me grow a lot and pretty soon I’m going to have to start thinking about the next step to take for my art. I’m really just starting to gain momentum so s uccess has yet to come. Some have already been well-received by the online public, but everything is relative. Have you have any notable failures, and how has that affected your work? Well, in a way maybe. I was in my 3rd year of Graphics Design/Multimedia school, but I had to take a break from that due to personal reasons. At first it really damaged the way I see my work; a lot of times I feel insecure about my artwork, not so much my personal work but also that I had to make for this school. It turned me into my own worst critic and so anything I’d create would just not be good enough for me. The past years I’ve been less of a critic and I’m starting to be fully supportive of what I do; even if it’s not the best, it’s still what I do and what I love. So in that way, something bad turned into something good as well.
What are your favorite tools / equipment for producing your art? I am truly a great fan of regular grey pencil and fineliners. Also, I started out digital drawing on MS Paint. I had many good years with that, but then I switched to Photoshop, which proved to be amazing. What tool / equipment do you wish you had? I’d like a tablet so I can do my drawings digital too, rather than having to scan everything I do on paper. Also, this way I can practice my digital paintings which is something I really want to learn. What do you hope to accomplish with your art? I don’t know for sure yet. I guess what’s important to me now is developing a good level of skill and technique so I can create high quality art. I need to build a good portfolio if I want to apply for video game design schools. I’d like to be recognized for my work, but I do think I have a long way to go first. What I’d love the most is to be able to visualize every aspect of my “project Dragonstorm” and making that into a successful novel/game/movie.
Ray Gun Revival
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Serial: "The Friar of Briar Island" Island",, by Johne Cook
Pg.
The Adventures of the Sky Pirate The Friar of Briar Island, Part 1 by Johne Cook The story so far... Cooper Flynn uncovered and defeated a
islands and some jagged reefs coming up quickly in front of The Lone Wolf . He looked
Qantiin assassin on the th e island of Patience Bay,
behind him and the news was even worse
but not before losing his best friend, Sandle.
back there. Instead of being alone, he saw a
Flynn fled in the teeth of a storm to put some
large warship entirely too close for comfort.
distance between himself and the assassins’ guild that now has a life-long contract on his head, and has spent two years on the run out
Not only that, the ship was flying the signature green flag of the Sylvan Navy. Navy. Flynn’s fleeting good humor vanished
on the open ocean, living off his inheritance
entirely, engulfed by cold dread. It was said
and his wits.
that Haddirron sailors caught by Sylvans
Now seventeen, Flynn finds
himself floating through life. All that is about
became slaves, keeping their thumbs but
to change...
losing their toes. He had no intention of being
There’s nothing like dozing on the deck of a small boat in big water. Cooper Flynn
someone’s captive without his full array of digits.
was enjoying the privilege of youth, literally
There were too many decisions to make
floating along in his life, when he sensed a
and no time to work through it all. Think. He
distant thump, more of a concussion than
noticed that the warship wasn’t alone and
anything. He was just beginning to wonder
appeared to be riding herd on three docile
what that could be when water erupted
merchantmen. Hmmm... He had the begin-
with a thunderclap in a 20-foot geyser off his
nings of an idea and turned around to see
starboard bow.
where he was going. He was coming right up
His eyes snapped open and he sat up and
on the entry to the Volcanal and realized that
looked around, trying frantically to get his
he was going to have h ave to make a choice almost
bearings, suddenly feeling very foolish.
immediately—heave to port and go up the
He was assailed by multiple waves of
straits, or veer to starboard and get out of the
shocking information. To begin with, instead
shipping lanes and off the beaten lanes into
of wide-open waters, there were tall green
Cyl-knows how many little islands.
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Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Serial: "The Friar of Briar Island," by Johne Cook
Pg.
Flynn grinned, released the leather strap
on metal poles suspended over a business-
from the rudder, and steered The Lone Wolf
like little fire. He stopped and dug out a coin
hard to starboard, heading toward a couple
for a flaky pastry topped with candied fruit
of specks in the distance, avoiding the tricky
while eyeing the meat for later. The dripping
reefs off the Volcanal. As he made his break,
juices flaring up in the flames below made his
the warship fired one last cannon ball but they
mouth water.
were well away by now and Flynn breathed a
He saw a pocket of boys surrounding
sigh of relief as the Sylvan man o’ war slid back
something on the ground, shouting and
astern and continued escorting its charges up
yelling and laughing. He walked over to check
the narrow straits.
it out, perhaps a little wistful that his own
Flynn picked an island at random and
childhood had been...different. ‘Laugh,’ goes
made port later that afternoon at the tiny
the saying, ‘and the world laughs with you,’
island of Parrot Bay, closest of two islands
and Flynn had a smile growing on his face as
south of the Volcanal. Flynn intended to take
he looked in on what they were playing with.
it slow, sensing that he had been on his own
His smile vanished when he saw the
long enough to warrant caution as he went
slowboy on the ground, and the blood. The
about picking up the trail of his friend’s killer. killer.
rage, so carefully damped, flared up anew in
As they say, “Good intentions and two coins will buy you a mug of rum.” #
his black eyes. #
His pulse quickened, Flynn looked around
Flynn tied the The Lone Wolf at a slip,
and noticed a number of people watching the
stretched, shouldered his rucksack, and
scene: a preoccupied shop owner wiping her
followed his nose toward the scent of meat
hands on a towel, an indolent ship’s captain
roasting on a spit somewhere inland, stagger-
with his feet up on a small table, and a small
ing just a little as he re-acquired his land-legs.
cleric standing in the doorway of a thatch
Ah, Civilization, thought Flynn as he looked
chapel with his arms crossed behind his back.
around at the humble little village with its
Her only interest is that the mob doesn’t
jumbled fishing nets, oars, and thatch huts.
approach her holdings and knock anything
Such as it is, he amended.
over. The seaman is watching the fight like
His nose lured him to a small market that
some kind of personal floor show for his enter-
had open stalls and locals selling fish, pastries
tainment, but there’s something else there
and breads, fresh fruits, and various meats
that I can’t put my finger on. What is the holy
Ray Gun Revival
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Serial: "The Friar of Briar Island," by Johne Cook man waiting for? Well, I guess that makes me the savior. Sandle would be amused.
Pg. 6 back through the silenced crowd. The boys were stunned at first, then a voice
Flynn re-adjusted his rucksack and strode
from the back of the throng said, “What’s he
forward into the scrum. “Pardon me,” he said
doing, Wrebi?” The blonde-haired tough guy
pleasantly, shouldering his way through the
clamped his hand on Flynn’s shoulder. shoulder. “Where
boys, “...excuse “...excuse me, me , pardon me.” The boys fell
do you...”
silent as he insinuated himself into their midst
Flynn stopped. “Do you want to keep that
until he stood over the figure on the ground
hand, friend?” he said quietly. Wrebi’s hand
with oddly slanting eyes.
lifted as if of its own volition. Flynn nodded
If the slowboy’s face had been flattened by birth and not by mean-spirited locals, it was clear that it was not for the lack of
to him, flashed a brilliant smile, and they pressed forward again. Flynn didn’t have to see it to know what
trying. A young man with blonde hair and a
was happening; Wrebi’s face was clouding
black attitude had the slowboy’s shirt in his
over as he realized that he’d just been
left hand and was standing over him with a
out-maneuvered a second time in as many
clenched fist. The slowboy was whimpering
minutes. His next move would be more overt,
and trying to cover his face behind his arms,
and when the hand clamped down on Flynn’s
tears mixing on his cheek with snot, mixing
shoulder to yank him firmly back, Flynn was
with blood.
ready. “You can’t just—” Wrebi began.
“You don’t belong here among your betters!” shouted the bully bully..
Flynn rolled with the movement and whirled around. Instead of fighting the inertia,
Flynn walked up next to the young tough,
he leaned into it and bricked Wrebi Wrebi under the
made a clucking sound, and bent down. He
chin with his rucksack, snapping Wrebi’s Wrebi’s head
laid his hand gently on the forearm holding
up and back, and lifting Wrebi up off his feet,
the slowboy’s shirt, and sure enough, the
knocking him flat onto his back in a cloud of
offender released his hold.
dust.
“Up you go,” he said to the slowboy, not unkindly, and took hold of the slowboy’s
Things got very quiet. Flynn stood over him. “You were saying, bubby?”
nearest arm. He leaned in and, with a
“Oh, ha ha ha! Bravo!” bellowed the
practiced motion, pulled the slowboy to his
captain breezily from his chair, and clapped
feet. “Here we go,” he said. Flynn smoothed
a couple of times before picking up his glass
the slowboy’s shirt, cast a fraternal arm
and topping it off from his bottle. Flynn’s eyes
around his shoulders, and started to walk him
flitted from the captain back to Wrebi.
Ray Gun Revival
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Serial: "The Friar of Briar Island," by Johne Cook The latter stirred from his place on the ground and sat up. Then, very clearly, clearly, he said,
Pg. turned his back, and walked away without a backward glance.
“Ow.” The crowd remained silent as he sat
Flynn found all that very strange. He put his
there and gingerly dabbed his bleeding nose.
arm around the slowboy’s shoulder. “Alright,
Wrebi moved his jaw from side to side and
my friend, let’ let ’s go get you cleaned up. up.” ”
flexed it once or twice. Then Th en he looked right at
The slowboy stopped and grabbed Flynn’s
Flynn and spoke sp oke in a strangely conversational conversational
with a surprisingly strong grip. “Thank-you,”
voice. “You know, if I don’t get the slowboy
he said in a voice that was permanently
today, the monster will tonight.”
muffled.
One black eyebrow arched, and Flynn said, “Monster.” His tone was deadpan skeptical.
Flynn was touched. Ah, civilization, he thought.
The captain laughed heartily. “The monster of Briar Island,” he shouted, pointing with a bottle of rum at the next island to the west, just visible on the horizon. “Ask anybody,” said Wrebi. “Your friend’s hours are numbered.” “The hours are numbered for every man,” said the cleric, striding forward. “Your hours would be better spent elsewhere, today,” he said in a low voice to the group, and made a small gesture of dismissal with his hand. The throng of boys dispersed without argument. Flynn stood there with his arm around the slowboy’s shoulder and watched the scattering with a curious eye. The Archbishop himself should have this much sway over his local wastrels, thought Flynn.
The cleric walked to stand over Wrebi. “Perhaps you should go help your father,” he said quietly. Wrebi’s eyes smoldered, but he stood up immediately without any back-talk. He swatted his pants legs to knock off the dust, Ray Gun Revival
#
Flynn found an open-air café; and sat his slowboy down at one of the outside tables. “How are you?” Flynn asked. The slowboy nodded blearily, the trickle of fluids from his nose starting to dry. Flynn gently put a finger under the slowboy’s chin and raised it until he looked Flynn in the eye. “I’m Cooper Flynn,” he said, “and if anyone gives you trouble and I’m around, I’ll help he lp you. Do you understand? As long as I’m around, you’re safe. safe.” ” After a moment, the slowboy nodded again. “Cooperflynn,” “Cooperflynn,” he said thickly. Flynn heard the crunching of gravel behind him. He turned in his chair and watched the wiry little cleric approach. Flynn’s expression was guarded. “I’m Cleric Hoster,” he said by way of introduction. “I admire what wh at you did back there.” Flynn nodded. He gestured toward a chair, chair, but the cleric held up a hand. “I can’t stay Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Serial: "The Friar of Briar Island," by Johne Cook long. Are you here with family or a ship?”
Pg. tion, and with his life.” The cleric just shook
Flynn shook his head. “I’m here by myself,
his head, not following. “Master Thannon
making my way around the islands on a bit of
killed Tuy Meklanek, and paid for his evil with
a sail-around.”
his own life.”
“Aren’t you a bit young for that?” t hat?”
“You bested Thannon with a sword?!”
Flynn shrugged. “I’m seventeen and have
Flynn snorted gently. “With my bare hands.
been doing this for a couple of years already
He had a rather...elevated opinion of himself
as I seek to make my way in this world.”
at the time, and that was his weakness. I knew
“You certainly seem capable. I assume you have some method of self-defense?” Flynn’s right eyebrow rose, and then he nodded again. “I have a sword,” he admitted, starting to clean the slowboy’s face with a table rag. The cleric smiled to disarm the sting of his question. “Do you know which end to use?” Flynn grinned. “I trained with Master Artus Thannon over in Patience Bay.”
Master Thannon relatively well. He was my mentor with a blade, my weapons instructor, but that was a ruse. He was a covert member of the Qantiin.” “The Qantiin!” The cleric took an involuntary step back, sketching s ketching the sacred four-sign over his chest. There was a brief silence as the cleric gathered his thoughts. “You should beware,” he said. “They do not forget, and they do not suffer killers to live. live.” ”
The cleric’s eyes narrowed and then he
“A strange policy for an Assassins Guild,”
smiled in approval. “You’re “You’re a fair distance from
observed Flynn, grinning. “I will keep my eyes
home. I am familiar with Master Thannon. He
open.”
is a legendary swordsman.” swordsman.” This was a good time for prudence, thought
“Pray Cyl that will be enough,” said the cleric.
Flynn. “Was, “Was,” ” said Flynn. “I killed him with
Flynn waved his hand. “I leave that to your
my bare hands for running through a friend
kind,” he said. “I’m not sure what I believe
of mine.” Sorry, Sandle. I know you’d want
anymore.”
me to keep my head down. I’ll never find your
After a moment, the cleric nodded in
attackers if I don’t start giving them a target
silent agreement. “Where were you planning
to shoot for again.
on taking him,” he said, gesturing toward the
“What? Thannon is dead?” Flynn pantomimed a bow from where he sat. “He killed a great man. There is always a cost for murder, and he paid with his reputaRay Gun Revival
slowboy. Flynn shrugged. “I hadn’t gotten that far,” he said. “Leave him with me,” said the cleric. “In Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Serial: "The Friar of Briar Island," by Johne Cook the meantime, have you eaten?” Flynn shook his head. “I know just the th e place.” place.”
Pg. do me the honor of introducing me to young Master Flynn here?” She grinned. “Certainly, ‘your grace’.” She
They both stood and Cleric Hoster made to
looked at Flynn and said, “May I introduce
leave, but Flynn remained where he was. The
the Friar of Briar Island” and then the n winked and
cleric looked back to see Flynn helping the
returned to the bar. The captain bowed with
slowboy to his feet. For his part, Flynn noted
an elaborate flourish.
that the cleric hadn’t given the slowboy a second glance.
the table. “Have you had a taste yet today?” #
Cleric Hoster took Flynn to a nearby public house, showed him to a table, then excused himself and carefully guided the slowboy through a door in back. He returned a moment later and nodded. “You should try the fish and bread here, they’re quite good,” he said, and winked, then excused himself and left. Flynn ordered and was looking around the place, taking in the breezes coming through the windows, when the captain who had been seated at the outdoor café walked in and spotted Flynn sitting by himself. Flynn watched him strut over with a bit of a swagger, swagger, hardly weaving at all. “There you are!” the captain bellowed. “Have you got a name?” Flynn looked around to see that he was being addressed. “I’m Cooper Flynn.” The captain flagged down the th e spirits-tender, a local woman with breeches and braids and a rag tied at her waist. “Revena, would you
Ray Gun Revival
The Friar tossed a large, tri-cornered hat on Flynn shrugged and said, “A taste of what?” The captain laughed, pulled up a chair, waved for Revena, and sprawled in his chair. She arrived with a dark bottle, uncapped it, and waved the neck under his nose. He winked and she left it along with a couple of pewter mugs. He poured a good bit into each and pushed one across, then held up his mug toward Flynn. Flynn leaned forward and stage-whispered, “I don’t know what you’re doing.” The Friar slapped the table, laughing, then leaned forward himself. “Take up your mug and we tap them together. It’s like shaking hands without the sweaty grip.” Flynn grabbed his mug and held it up, then gingerly touched mugs with the Friar, who looked at him. “You’ve got too much moxy to lead with that,” he said. “Toast it like you mean it!” and thrust his mug out more vigorously.. Flynn got a glint in his eye and followed ously suit, and nearly got a shirtful of success.
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Serial: "The Friar of Briar Island," by Johne Cook The Friar bellowed in laughter. “That’s more like it, lad! You’ll do!” Cleaning his arms with the rag, Flynn looked at his companion. He was swarthy,
Pg. 0 know!” the Friar roared. “I work for the Queen Quee n of Haddirron!” and then inclined his head in mock bow and leaned back with a magnanimous smile.
had a gold tooth, mustache, and goatee, and
Flynn wondered if the Friar worked for
had his hair tied back in a nape-knot at the
anybody but himself. Thus engrossed, he took
base of his neck in the current style.
his first sip from his mug and nearly spit it out.
Flynn sized up the man. “I take it you’re from a different order than Cleric Hoster?” The Friar squirted his rum onto the dirt
Wiping his mouth with his shirtsleeve, he said, “What is this we’re drinking? And as a followup question, how much does it cost?”
floor and then started slapping the table,
The Friar leaned forward and said “It’s
howling. With an effort, he regained control,
fermented molasses and sugar sugar,, and we make
leaned forward, and said, simply, “Yes.” His
it with whatever else we have around; banana,
voice cracked as he said it, and he started
coconut, palu-fruit. A steely-eyed bargain
laughing again. When his laughter died down,
at two coppers per mug.” The Friar raised
the Friar said, “My title is, what is the word,
his mug in honor of itself. “It is the elixir of
‘ironic’.”
choice among respectable scoundrels. We
Flynn politely raised an eyebrow, eyebrow, receiving a chuckle in return.
call it ‘rum’.” Flynn
nodded,
filing
away
the
‘we’
“A friar is one who depends on alms, chari-
reference, noting that the Friar was also part of
table gifts, for his livelihood of service. I, also,
a rum-making concern in addition to his other
depend on the ‘gifts of others’ for my welfare.
ventures. Flynn began to get the feeling that
In fact, I relieve Sylvan ships of their burden as
the Friar had fingers in any number of local
they pass through our straits, making it harder
‘industries.’’ While kicking these thoughts over, ‘industries. over,
for them to re-provision Sylvan military ports
he produced his money sack from his rucksack,
of call as they press their claim of sovereignty
pulling out four coppers and pushing the
over these islands. islands.” ”
bag off to the side of the table before taking
Flynn leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “You’re a pirate?!” The Friar slammed his mug on the wood tabletop, sloshing out more of the foaming brew. “A licensed privateer, I’ll have you
Ray Gun Revival
another draft. The Friar made a show of not staring at the bag and Flynn pretended not to notice. “Ah, rum,” said Flynn, and the Friar grinned widely and called for another round.
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Serial: "The Friar of Briar Island," by Johne Cook #
Flynn lost track of time as they th ey drank, told stories, ate local fare, and generally carried on. He hadn’t realized how insulated he’d become while out sailing around. Their table became an instant hot spot and people that he didn’t know faded in and out of the picture p icture in a delightful haze of social approval. He hadn’t felt that accepted, part of a group, since Sandle was alive. Flynn started talking about his friend and by the time he was done, there wasn’t a dry eye—or mug—in the place. At one point, Flynn blearily tried to leave and return to his boat, but the Friar was having none of it, and promised that he’d get Flynn back safely. Flynn lost track of consciousness after that and the impromptu crowd dispersed by some unspoken unsp oken agreement. The Friar poked him in the shoulder but Flynn was busy snoring. Revena stopped by the table. “Do you need any help to take him back to his boat?” “This stripling? I could carry his entire family on my back,” he boasted, and then grinned widely w idely.. “If he still had one,” she reminded him, then winked to show she didn’t mean any slight. “ That girl’s too observant by half,” half,” muttered the Friar, his attention drawn again to Flynn’s pouch. He looked around the now empty pub and took out a collection of coins and dumped dum ped
Pg. 1 pouch to his belt. He got Flynn’s arm over his neck and effortlessly stood and half-carried, half-dragged Flynn out the door, tossing a “G’night, Revena!” over his shoulder as they pushed through the door door.. The street outside was lit by a row of lanterns and an intermittent moon. He carried Flynn through the center of the street, nodding to people and proclaiming loud greetings along the way. way. He reached the turn going down to the dock and stepped aside into the underbrush, coming to a large palm tree. “Psst,” he said. “Took you long enough,” said a voice from the darkness. “This had better be very, very good.” “Oh, I think you’ll find this entirely worth your while,” said the Friar Friar,, and reached to his belt, retrieving Flynn’s pouch. “I promised to get this one back to his boat. Of course, if his pouch goes missing somewhere between here and there, we can’t be held responsible for the actions of the sinister element around these parts.” He stuck out the pouch. p ouch. Wrebi stood forward to accept the pouch. “I’ll see he gets what’s coming to him,” he said. The moon briefly lit the Friar’s face and then went back behind a cloud, and he was reclaimed by the darkness.
them on the table, then he attached the
Ray Gun Revival
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Serial: "The Friar of Briar Island," by Johne Cook
Pg.
To be continued in Part Two of The Friar of
Briar Island.
Johne Cook A technical writer / help author by day and creave writer / editor by night, Johne likes to write almost as much as he likes to to read. This heritage of reading was a gi from his dad, who had a truly impressive library of space opera and golden age sci- paperbacks. Johne is an Overlord—a founding editor —of Ray Gun Revival. A lifelong Green Bay Packers fan, Johne really isn’t a masochist.
Ray Gun Revival
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Pg.
Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon
Memory Wipe Chapter Three: To the Stars by Sean T. M. Stiennon before, and he is haunted by nightmares that The story so far: Three years ago, Takeda
make him wake up, screaming and racked by
Croster woke up in the city of Greendome on
terrible pains...
the colony world of Belar with no memories,
#
no connections, and no possessions aside from the clothes he was wearing and an Imperial citizenship card with his name on it. He worked at the Silver Sun casino, ignored by most, until one night when he began to manifest superhuman powers in a fight against two corrupt cops: enhanced senses, great strength, lightning-fast reactions. He seriously injured both cops. cops. Strange dreams and a feeling of great exhaustion followed the encounter. Now, fleeing the corrupt police force headed by Captain Brian Vass, Takeda makes his way through the jungles of Belar to the planet’s only spaceport, hoping to escape Vass by fleeing to the stars. With him is Zartsi, a mysterious Lithrallian hunter who saved him from being killed by a fearsome skitter and subsequently offered his companionship. Zartsi seems to be a good being, but Takeda has never had to trust anyone but himself
The spaceport lay in a shallow valley in the jungle, spread out perhaps a mile away from Takeda and Zartsi as they crouched in the branches of a tree. The port’s central feature was a large customs office with enormous concrete walls and windows that gleamed bright in Belar’s sun. Wide stretches of blacktop spread out behind it, speckled with the sleek shapes of waiting Company ships. The rail line ended at a loading platform on the east side of the blacktop, and Takeda could see a large ship there, being loaded up with the goods from a train that had arrived during the night. The other buildings of the spaceport rose up beyond the blacktop—houses for the port’s p ort’s residents and staff, staff, bars, motels, and brothels for visiting crews, a cluster of lumber mills, and a police barracks. The cops here were independent from those in Greendome, but Takeda knew that their t heir captain was weak. He
Ray Gun Revival
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Pg.
Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon operated under Brian Vass’ hegemony. Vass
Zartsi slithered down the tree trunk,
preferred to stay in wealthier Greendome,
and Takeda followed. He hadn’t felt his
but his control wasn’t limited to the one city.
enhanced abilities since the night when the
“How are we going to get money for a
skitter attacked him, but his natural strength
berth?” he whispered. “Merchant will buy skitter venom and bones. If not enough, we’ll sell pistol, and I have few other things.” Takeda frowned. “Won’t it be suspicious to sell off a police model?” Zartsi smiled, showing his pointed teeth. “Are ways to unload it.” “I didn’t realize Belar had an underworld.” “No. Just men who don’t tell cops everything.” Takeda sighed. “All right. Next problem: I’m going to look suspicious in this uniform.” uniform.”
had increased a little from his time in the jungle, and the descent didn’t give him much trouble. They jogged beneath the trees side-byside. Zartsi’s rifle slapped against his back, and Takeda Takeda glanced at it, still amazed by how crude it was: the magazine held five bullets— which Zartsi seemed to make himself using raw materials—and the barrel was simply a rod of hollow steel with the grooves hand etched. The Lithrallian claimed it was more accurate than factory produced weapons, and Takeda had seen him make impressive shots.
He glanced down at the Silver Sun Su n uniform
He had offered Takeda Takeda his other weapon—a
he had worn for the past six days. Berry juices,
battered old pistol with a ten-round magazine
dirt, grease, blood, and sap had turned it
and a sawed-off barrel. Takeda had refused,
from black to a splotched muddy color, and
however, because the weapon’s barrel length
several long rips had been torn in the fabric.
and the caliber—and design—of its bullets
His leg was healing well, but the cloth around
made it illegal under Imperial law. He didn’t
the wound was shredded and stiff with dry
want to increase his chances of being picked
blood.
up by the first cop he met, here or on some
“You wear cloak,” said Zartsi. “I will not look stranger without.” “All right. But if there’s any money left over, we’ll buy me a new set of clothes.” “Agreed.”
Ray Gun Revival
world halfway across the galaxy. #
The two of them emerged from the jungle and strode across a hundred meters of cleared
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Pg.
Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon ground. A chain-link fence surrounded the town. It was electrified at night, to discourage
The man turned his languid gaze to Takeda. Takeda. “And who’s this, wearing your cloak?”
skitters and other beasts, but in daylight the
Takeda’s heart nearly stopped for a
only real defenses were small watchposts on
moment, but the Lithrallian answered without
each of the gates, almost exactly the same as
a pause. “Man asked me to escort him from
those in Greendome.
Greendome to port. He leaves planet and
Takeda wore Zartsi’s thick cloak, and the Lithrallian wore a suit of reddish-brown leather armor—apparently, he had made it
wished to experience jungle last time.” “Ah. Haven’t gotten lice from that, have you, bud?” the guard asked, chuckling.
himself from various kills. His ivory daggers
Takeda opened his mouth and started to
were sheathed on his thighs and the illegal
answer, then realized that the guard wasn’t
pistol was in a holster at the small of his back,
interested. His attention went back to Zartsi.
concealed by his pack and the rifle he wore
“Zart, usually I let you get in without any
over it.
trouble, but I’m not so sure this time. This
“How’s it going, Zart?” one of the guards
guest is suspicious. suspicious.” ”
called as they approached. The man was
Takeda began to hear the th e guard’s heartbeat
seated in a sunchair propped against one side
as a faint pulsation, and see tiny beetles in the
of the concrete watchpost, hands folded over
cracks of the watchpost’s wall. His abilities
his belly. A can of some drink rested on the
were returning as he sensed danger. He was
ground at his side.
halfway to drawing his pistol when Zartsi
“Good. Skitter parts to sell,” Zartsi said. He spoke as if he had heard the question a hundred times from the same guard. “Ah. Not the shell?” the t he man asked, taking a gulp from his can.
answered, “How much do you want?” The guard looked Takeda up and down appraisingly, then said, “Thirty silvers. Got that much on you, lizard?” Zartsi dug for a moment in a pocket
“I didn’t want to carry shell.”
beneath his armor and pulled out a small hide hid e
The man smiled. “I see. Just the venom
sack that jingled when he shook it. “Thirty-
sacs?” “And other things.” “You’ll get plenty of cash for those.” Zartsi nodded slightly slightly.. “So I hope. hope.” ”
Ray Gun Revival
five,” five, ” he hissed. hisse d. “Buy bottle of perfume. Your stench needs it. it.” ” The guard laughed deep in his belly as he reached up to take the sack. “All right, Zart.
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Pg. 6
Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon Sure. Go on in, and good luck with the sale.
hand. He stared at the air ahead of him,
Let me know how it goes, eh?”
seeming to see nothing. “I have reasons. Belar
Zartsi turned away and strode through the
is new world—small Company, not many
open gate. Takeda followed, keeping his eyes
people, only few settlements. Perhaps good
on the ground. It had been easy—too easy,
place to slip through cracks.”
he thought. “Do you always pay your way past the guards?” he asked the Lithrallian. Zartsi shrugged, rattling the rifle on his
Something tugged at Takeda, telling him not to ask anything more, but he ignored it and continued, “Then why leave now, with me?”
back. “I pay them little money, they don’t
Zartsi turned to look at him now, and
report me. I don’t need much—I hunt some
this time there was a glint of anger in the
food, gather more. Just bullets and such.”
Lithrallian’s fierce eyes. “You are fugitive,
Takeda crossed his arms over his chest. He had seen plenty of corruption from Vass’ force—extortion, blackmail, taking bribes
Takeda. Do not ask questions unless you want questions.” Questions.
Takeda
had
a
thousand
to get past various legalities and strings of
questions, for Zartsi, for himself, for whoever
red tape. He had always hated the cops in
in the galaxy knew what had happened in
Greendome for those reasons and others.
the twenty-odd years he couldn’t remember. remember.
Now Takeda saw the Lithrallian trafficking in
But, for now, now, he stayed silent. He had been in
such corruption himself.
the Lithrallian’s company for a few days, and
Zartsi noticed the pensive expression on his face, and said, “You’ “You’re re displeased?”
had come to like him, but he didn’t know his companion well, and—in many ways—still
“It doesn’t seem s eem right.” right.”
feared him. Right now n ow,, he was half afraid that
“I am here illegally. I would like to keep
this hunter would turn him in to the cops for
money, but I pay or get arrested.” “Why are you here, anyway?” Takeda asked, as they walked past the shacks on the fringes of the town. “Aren’t there better worlds for a Lithrallian?”
a few Silvers to compensate for the bribe. Provoking Zartsi certainly wouldn’t do him any favors. The dirt path became blacktop, and a battered old truck rumbled past them,
All traces of a smile vanished from Zartsi’s
throwing up swirls of red dust. The buildings
face, and he rubbed his headridge with one
here were made from lightly-colored concrete, concrete,
Ray Gun Revival
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Pg.
Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon and many had small gardens planted around
resses, paid her a couple Silvers, and soon
and behind them, green with plants brought
two plastic mugs filled with watery brown
in from off-world. A few men and women
beer arrived at their table. Zartsi took a long
lounged in the shade, but most were out
pull from his, grimaced, and said, “No flavor.
working, either at the spaceport itself or out
No sting. It would need many hours to get
in the jungle.
drunk.”
“Where are you planning to sell this venom of yours?” Takeda asked.
Takeda took a sip himself, swallowed, and agreed with his companion. He felt too
“Here,” said Zartsi, pointing to a single-
tense, though, and a little alcohol might help
story building. Odors of alcohol and smoke
him relax enough not to look suspicious. He
wafted from the open doorway, and a name
sipped it slowly while looking around the
was stenciled in black paint on the concrete
room, watching for any man paying too much
wall: The Red Leaf.
attention to them. Vass had almost certainly
“A bar?” “Where
sent a bulletin here, and on a small colony else?”
Zartsi
asked,
striding
planet like this, criminals weren’t allowed to
towards the doorway. Takeda followed,
go free for long. What if one of these spacers
somewhat reluctantly. Since being hired at
recognized
the Silver Sun, he had always done his drinking
focused on their drinks and their games of
in the casino’s clean, well-lit bars. This was a
dice and cards.
him?
Thankfully,
they
were
dark watering hole which served cheap beer
When a pale man with long black hair sat
and whiskey to freighter crews who couldn’t
down at their table, Zartsi greeted him with,
afford anything better.
“You have money, Reedis?”
Zartsi led him past tables crowded with
“Not so fast, lizard. Let me see s ee it first.” first.”
sweaty men whose arms bulged with muscles
Zartsi reached back into his pack, dug for
built up from years of hard work. A handful of
a moment, and then pulled out a sealed steel
pretty waitresses wandered around, serving
bottle. He handed it to Reedis, then swung the
drinks and plates of greasy food. They took a
pack off his shoulders and dug deeper into it,
table in one corner, far from the bar.
producing a few sets of skitter talons, strung
“Now wait,” Zartsi said. “Bouncer saw me come in. He will bring Reedis.” Reedis.” The Lithrallian signaled to one of the wait-
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on leather thongs, and the jeweled lenses of the creature’s eyes. There were a few other things Takeda Takeda couldn’t identify identify,, and two more
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon bottles.
He reached into a pocket of his trousers
Reedis examined the first bottle, sniffed it,
and pulled out a slim bottle filled with some
and nodded. “You got a male in heat. Good
deep red liquid that smoldered in the tavern’ tavern’ss
venom. And those eyejewels look nice. What
faint light. “Take this as a bonus,” he said,
do you want for it?”
tossing it to Zartsi, who caught it adeptly.
“Cash. Three hundred Silvers.” Silvers.” The man smiled coldly. “Nothing else?”
“Drink to my health.” He swept up the assorted skitter parts,
Zartsi hesitated for a moment, and Takeda
then vanished into the smoky haze of the
saw his tongue flick out and moisten his lips.
tavern. As soon as he had left, Zartsi set down
The Lithrallian shook his head. “Nothing
the bottle and shoved it away angrily. Then
else.”
he drained his beer and said, “We’ll have to
“Too bad. I’m not sure I can afford three
settle for cheapest berths we find,” he said.
hundred Silvers. Here, how about this: I’ll
“I had to pay large bribe, and I don’t think it
take the venom for a hundred, and you can
would be safe to unload pistol.”
find another buyer for the rest. rest.” ” “No,” Zartsi said, shaking his head. “You buy all or buy nothing. nothing.” ”
Not bad news. Takeda didn’t like the thought of being unarmed. “Do we have enough for clothes?”
Takeda kept kept sipping his hi s beer while the two
“Yes, if cheap. But we should hurry. From
haggled. The alcohol wasn’t doing anything
talk around us, couple freighters depart in
for his tension—in fact, it was increasing
hour.”
with every minute he spent sitting in the
Takeda couldn’t help but be impressed.
hard plastic booth, his mouth burning with
Zartsi had managed to carry on his bartering
the beer’s sour aftertaste. He had spent all
and listen to the murmured conversations
three years of his remembered life on Belar,
around him at the same time. Takeda hadn’t
but now he just wanted to leave it behind as
bothered. If his enhanced hearing had come
quickly as possible.
to him, it would have been easy, but he had
They finally agreed on 275 Silvers. Reedis counted out the Silvers, and Zartsi stowed them in a pocket beneath his hi s armor. armor. “Nice doing business with you,” Reedis said, getting to his feet.
Ray Gun Revival
no control over his abilities—he didn’t even know if they would ever manifest again. As Zartsi started to stand, Takeda glanced over to the door. door. He blinked bli nked once and felt his h is jaw tighten as Captain Brian Vass walked walked into
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon the room, his uniform and pale face as tidy as
A policeman stepped out a building ahead
they always were. Three of his thugs trailed
of them, probably a brothel, judging from the
him, flaunting their guns.
lacy red drapes over its windows. He heard
Takeda felt his abilities begin to fill him—a
the sound of their boots and glanced in their
sense of smell that allowed him to distinguish
direction. For a moment, he narrowed his
between the bar’s many odors, sight that
eyes intently, and then recognition showed
showed him the muscles moving beneath
on his face. “Croster!”
Vass’ neatly pressed uniform. Vass’ eyes flicked back and forth across the room. “Out the door,” Takeda whispered. “But don’t move too fast.”
Takeda and the cop went for their pistols at the same moment. Takeda was faster, despite the thick cloak he wore, and his pistol was out and aimed before the cop had dragged
Zartsi obeyed immediately. He reached
his out of its holster. Even he was too late.
over and picked up Takeda’s mug as he stood,
Takeda stopped himself just in time to avoid
then drained it in one gulp and set it down
shooting Zartsi as the Lithrallian slammed
on the table with natural firmness. Takeda
his fist into the cop’s face. Bone cracked, and
followed his lead, yawning, and the two
the man staggered back, his nose broken and
began to move towards the door. Individual
pouring blood. Zartsi stepped forward and
motes of dust were visible in the sunlight,
swung his fists in a quick one-two combina-
and Takeda’s ears heard Vass speaking to the
tion, pounding the cop’s gut. All his breath
barkeep, “Four drinks—whatever’s best. On
whooshed out his mouth, and a sweep from
the house.”
Zartsi’ss leg easily knocked him down. Zartsi’
Zartsi led the way out into the golden
The man coughed, and blood flecked the
sunlight of the early afternoon. Takeda Takeda could
dust. Takeda holstered his pistol, feeling his
smell the dust, feel tiny fluctuations in the heat
senses fade once again, but Zartsi did just the
caused by wind. Once they were out the door door,,
opposite: he reached down, drew one of his
he broke into a jog, and Zartsi followed.
daggers, and laid it against the cop’ cop’ss throat.
“Still want clothes?” the Lithrallian asked.
“Wait!” Takeda hissed.
“No. The sooner we’re on a ship on full-
Harsh blue eyes looked up at him. “T “ Takeda,
drive away from Belar, the better.” “Agreed.”
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do you swear accusation is unjust?” “Yes.”
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon “Then it is just for man to die.”
head in disgust. “Here. I butcher many kills.”
Before Takeda could object further, Zartsi
The Lithrallian efficiently tore all police
slashed his blade across the cop’s throat,
insignia off the jacket, removed it from the
opening it from end to end. The T he move was so
man’ss shoulders, and tossed it to Takeda. The man’
fast the white ivory was barely soiled. Zartsi
pants and belt followed. Just touching them
wiped it off before re-sheathing it.
revolted Takeda, Takeda, but he knew what necessity
Takeda felt sick as he stared down at the corpse. “You didn’t have to do that.” “This is safest,” the Lithrallian said. “Now help hide corpse.” Numbly, Takeda reached down, picked the
demanded. He swallowed his disgust and stuffed the clothes on over his old, torn casino uniform, trying not to look at the stripped corpse. Zartsi handed him the cop’ cop’ss pistol and three clips of ammunition.
cop up by his ankles, and lifted. Dead weight
They moved away at a run, and Takeda
dragged on his arms—his enhanced strength
tried to force down the sickness that th at knotted
wasn’t coming to him. Blood spattered out
his gut.
onto the dust. A dozen men must have seen the killing and were now running to warn Vass. Zartsi’s murder hadn’t done them any good. They carried the body into the alleyway to one side of the brothel and dumped it behind a garbage can. “You think anyone saw us?” Takeda asked. as ked. “If they did, all more reason to hurry,” hurry,” Zartsi hissed. “But first, take clothes off man—shirt and jacket.” Takeda shivered with disgust. The man’s collar was soaked in blood from his throat, and it felt so wrong, so wretched, to take the clothes off a corpse, particularly one he had seen killed. Like robbing a fresh grave. Zartsi waited for a moment, then shook his
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#
The man behind the port control desk crossed his arms over the chest of his blue uniform and lifted one eyebrow. “I should call the police right now, now, guys. The Lithrallian shouldn’t even be in this star system.” system.” The room was small, with bare concrete walls decorated by posters of luxurious resorts from across the galaxy. It was lit only by sunlight pouring through the windows. Two other men were pretending to work on their screens while they gave their attention to Takeda and Zartsi. “I have money, money, and I have Imperial citizenship,” Takeda Takeda said. “I already alread y told you that this Lithrallian is under my protection—and we’re
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon trying to get off the planet, not onto it.”
throughout the port and Greendome. There’s
“I understand, sir,” the man said, running
even a chance the Navy might decide the
a hand through his long hair. hair. “But I don’t d on’t plan
Company can’t enforce law on its colonies
on violating Imperial law for anybody’s con-
and establish a Belar garrison. garrison.” ”
venience.”
The officer hesitated, his eyes flicking
Takeda glanced at Zartsi, hoping for advice,
between his battered comm unit and Zartsi.
but the Lithrallian’s eyes were fixed on the
Takeda realized that he was thinking of the
floor.. He had decided in advance that it would floor
reward he might get for turning Zartsi in, with
be best not to talk—it would just irritate the
potential for a promotion.
officers to have an illegal arguing with them. Takeda sighed. “Let me ask you this: what good will it do you to arrest arrest him? It’ll just mean
“They “T hey don’t like Lithrallians,” Lithrallians,” Takeda Takeda said. The office pursed his lips and nodded. “All right. Just get the t he damn lizard off, off, okay?”
trouble for you and your office, particularly if
“That’s “T hat’s what I was planning.” planning.”
the Navy orders an investigation.”
“Give me your card.”
“That’s what I’m paid for, sir.”
Takeda slipped his citizenship card out of
The man started to reach for his comm
his pocket. The blue rectangle glittered in the
receiver, and Takeda felt a surge of panic.
sunlight, showing his name and ID code laser-
What if they arrested Zartsi? He wouldn’t be
imprinted on the plastic. The officer took it,
able to do anything for his friend, and two
slipped it into his computer, and punched a
possibilities would be left: either Vass would
few keys. Takeda heard Zartsi exhale in relief,
catch him, or he would flee into the jungle,
and the other officers went back to their work,
going far beyond any human settlement, and
apparently satisfied with their co-worker’s
live a lonely life as a hermit. Neither option
decision.
looked good.
Then the officer froze, with his finger
He reached out and grabbed the officer’s
poised over the eject key on his console. He
wrist. “Wait,” he said. “Think about it. The
stared at his screen, eyes widening slightly,
Lithrallian and I can prove that in the past
and glanced up at Takeda. For a moment, his
few years several men have seen him—done
mouth opened as if he were about to speak,
business with him, in fact—and never turned
then his gaze flicked up at Zartsi, seeming
him in. If Imperial colonial law is followed to
to notice the Lithrallian’s weapons for the
the letter, that might mean investigations
first time. He ejected the card and handed it
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Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon back to Takeda with a hand that shook just slightly.
someone bring you water, if you like.” Takeda felt Zartsi’s hot breath in his ear as
“Area Six. The Brass Shield is scheduled to
the Lithrallian whispered, “No. Captain Vass
launch in fifty-three minutes,” he said. “Can I
has tagged card. He tries to get you out long
ask you to wait here until it departs?”
enough to make call.”
Strange—a minute before, he wouldn’t
The officer hadn’t run a full background
have phrased that as a request, and his body
check, had he? Just a quick scan to verify
language was suddenly deferential rather
citizenship—that was standard for interplan-
than challenging.
etary transit. Perhaps Takeda’s blank profile
“Brass Shield? That’s not a Company ship, is it?” Takeda asked. “No. It’s a private freighter, registered to Captain Shane O’Donnell. O’Donnell.” ” For the first time, Zartsi spoke. “Private? You sell berths on his boat?” “Captain O’Donnell has an agreement with the Company. You’ll deliver payment straight to him—one cabin or two, depending on
had unnerved him, but Takeda had modified his profile to include his residence and occupation at the Silver Sun. Vass didn’t have the power to tag a profile’ profile’ss surface information... or did he? “I’d rather go out to the ship now. I’d like to meet the captain.” “Yes, sir. sir. Have a good trip. t rip. Do you have any baggage we can help you with?”
what you can afford. The accommodations
“No.”
will be comfortable, and food is included in
They turned and left the room, waking
the berth price. price.” ”
down a short hallway that led to the landing
The officer spoke quickly, as if in a hurry hu rry to
field. Takeda’s senses had begun to elevate
answer every possible question. One of the
slightly, and he heard the click as the man
others had noticed it too—he looked over
activated his comm system.
and said, “Something wrong, Rafe?” “No,” “No, ” the officer shot back, forcing a smile. “No. But Captain O’Donnell prefers to be undistracted prepping his boat...it would be
“What now?” he hissed to Zartsi. “Should we have stopped him?” “No,” the Lithrallian hissed. “We should plan early departure. departure.” ”
best if you gentlemen would wait for another
They emerged into the golden sunlight of
half-hour—there’s a room for you. I can have
the afternoon—Takeda afternoon—Takeda could feel the heat of
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Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon the blacktop through the soles of his shoes.
ever.. He needed the strength to keep up with ever wit h
Far across the landing pad he could see the
Zartsi and escape Vass. Takeda tried to focus
gleaming shapes of the train station and
his mind, reaching into his brain and searching
the massive freighter being loaded from it.
for whatever had triggered his abilities.
A couple smaller craft were taking on cargo
He began to smell the blacktop as if it
from a small fleet of trucks: lumber, hides,
were coated with perfume, and feel slight
and other jungle products.
variations in its heat. Suddenly he could hear
“Area Six is that way,” Zartsi said, pointing
Zartsi’s heart working like a refinery furnace,
to the north, where w here Takeda Takeda could see a single
driving him forward. Then he realized that
ship over a hundred meters away. away. “Run. Time
he was closing the gap between himself and
for stealth steal th is over ove r.”
Zartsi, and his borrowed cloak flew straight
Takeda glanced back at the port control
out behind him. His stride chewed up the
building apprehensively. They didn’t have
ground, and every time his boots hit the
long before Vass arrived—it wouldn’t take
blacktop,, the next step became blacktop b ecame easier easi er.. Takeda Takeda
him more than a minute or two to drive there
matched Zartsi, running side-by-side with
from the bar where they had evaded him. If
him, then began to pass him. He distinctly
he had any kind of heavy weapons, Takeda
heard the rumble of Vass’ truck behind. Only
doubted even his augmented reflex reflexes, es, senses,
moments before he spotted them—but the
and strength would save him.
Brass Shield was close now, now, only a few dozen
Zartsi broke into a sprint, his feet barely
meters away away..
touching the ground as he swung his legs
The ship was a fairly standard private
out in powerful strides. It took all of Takeda’s
freighter—long and low, with a slightly
energy just to stay a couple feet behind him,
elevated bridge up front and a rectangular
and he knew he couldn’t keep the pace up
engine array in back, measuring about thirty
for long. He glanced back over his shoulder,
meters from nose to tail. The cargo compart-
losing another few feet, and thought he saw
ments took up most of the space between
a dust cloud in the town—Vass’ truck?
the two, with living quarters occupying a strip
Before, Takeda’s abilities had come to him
along the ship’ ship ’s upper half half.. The boxy craft was
without his control, at times when his life
painted a muddy red color, with brass studs
was in clear danger. But there was no sign of
added for show at regular intervals. A crew of
them now, and he needed them as much as
men in sweaty coveralls was loading it now,
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Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon hauling crates off a flatbed truck and heaving he aving
“No,” he said. “We’re leaving now.”
them into an open compartment.
O’Donnell lifted one eyebrow. “Lad, if
Expecting to be shot in the back at any moment, Takeda ran up to the person who
that’s the way you’re planning to talk, I can tell you right now this ain’t your ship.”
seemed to be directing the operation, a tall
Takeda allowed his instincts to guide him.
man with a cloud of thick, orange hair on his
Before O’Donnell could react, he whipped out
head and a beard to match it. Takeda Takeda could see
the fully loaded police pistol he had collected
tiny flecks of dust in his beard, and could hear
earlier and aimed the barrel straight at the
his breath wheezing slightly, as if something
man’s mouth. “We leave now.”
in Belar’s atmosphere irritated his lungs.
The captain’s captain’s face flushed deep de ep red. “What
“Captain O’Donnell?” he asked.
are you trying to do?” he growled. “This is my
The man turned. “That’s me. Why?”
ship, lad, and you’ve just sunk any chance of
“We’re your passengers.”
getting on it.”
The captain glanced down at the screen
Takeda hesitated for a moment. His crimes
of his pad and tapped something. “Takeda
were already serious enough to get him the
Croster and companion?”
death penalty on any Imperial world—killing
“That’s right.”
several cops while resisting arrest and stealing
O’Donnel glanced at Zartsi. “A Lithrallian?
a police vehicle. But hijacking a private
You checked him through the port control
freighter would insure that he was tagged
office?”
for arrest by the Imperial Police, with notices n otices
“Yes. It’s fine.”
distributed to affiliated police forces on a
“All right. Just sit tight, lads, while we get
hundred worlds, and his citizenship would be
this stuff loaded up, and then I’ll show you
tagged as well. Any time he used the card he
your cabins. We’ll be out of here in an hour
would risk arrest. He would be a fugitive on
or so, right?”
any world in the Empire and its allies, including
Hundreds of meters behind, Takeda’ akeda’ss heard he ard Vass’ voice shout, “Croster!” He whipped his
the Drava Alliance, and several small human protectorates.
head around to see the police truck start away
He snapped his gun down, fired a bullet
from the office, heard its engine purring.
into the blacktop between O’Donnell’s feet,
Suddenly, Takeda knew exactly what Zartsi
and brought it back to point between the
had meant by an “early departure.” departure.”
captain’ss eyes, all in the blink of an eye. captain’
Ray Gun Revival
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon “Now,” he said.
plastic shipping crates and bundles of furs ran
He heard Zartsi’s rifle crack once, twice, and
up the loading ramp, and O’Donnell turned
then heard a shriek of metal grating against
abruptly to follow them, seeming to have
the blacktop. Takeda took a step back from
forgotten Takeda for the moment.
O’Donnell, putting some distance between
A red lance sizzled through the warm air
himself and the big bi g captain, and glanced back
centimeters from Takeda’s ribs—a pulser
to see Vass’ truck halfway across the field with
shot. Vass and five other men were coming
its front wheels shot out from underneath it.
towards him, guns firing, and bullets spanged
Takeda suddenly believed everything Zartsi
off the blacktop. Takeda leapt away, dodging
had said about his custom-built rifle.
behind the freighter’s stocky landing gear
One of O’Donnell’s men tried to pull a gun,
just in time to avoid a second and third pulser
but Takeda Takeda saw the movement as if it were in
bolt. Zartsi scrambled backwards in a low
slow-motion. His finger pulled back the trigger
crouch, his rifle held in one hand and braced
of his pistol, sending a single bullet screeching
against his armpit while he pressed the scope
through the air to crash through the barrel of
against his left eye socket. His dull white
the man’s cheaply made revolver. The man
fangs showed as his lips curled back in a snarl,
dropped the broken weapon back into his
and he pulled the trigger back. A cop’s head
pocket, eyes widening in shock.
erupted in red—not Vass.
“I’ll shoot you next,” Takeda said, hearing
Then the Lithrallian rolled up to his feet,
his own voice tremble almost imperceptibly.
fired two more bullets from the hip, emptying
He couldn’t let himself think. He could only
his magazine, and bolted for the loading ramp,
act.
which was just beginning to rise. Takeda ran
O’Donnell looked like he wanted to pull
after him just as a pulser bolt b olt melted through
Takeda’s spine out through his mouth, but
the landing gear. He scrambled up onto the
he nodded slowly. “Seems I don’t have much
rising ramp just behind Zartsi. They rolled
choice. Almost done loading anyway.”
down into the ship’s dark interior, hitting a
He turned back to his hi s men. “All “All right, lads. Leave the cargo and rev her up for launch.” launch.”
warm metal deck. Takeda snapped his pistol up to a firing
They all stared at Takeda Takeda with a hot anger
position just as O’Donnell’s pistol was halfway
that frightened him, but they didn’t hesitate
out of its holster. The big captain dropped it
when their captain gave gave an order order.. Men holding
back and, to Takeda’s Takeda’s surprise, surprise , smiled broadly. b roadly.
Ray Gun Revival
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon “You “Y ou are good, lad. Cops mad at you?”
after this, but I never liked the cops here. We
“Just get us in air,” Zartsi hissed. Takeda
should have lift-off in thirty seconds—engines
heard the snap-click of him reloading his
were pre-warmed. I’ll take this, and if you
rifle’ss magazine. rifle’
don’t give me any more trouble, my crew and
“We’re warming up. Don’t get trigger happy.” O’Donnell sat down on a crate in front of
I won’t risk our necks tackling you or report you to the cops until we arrive. Deal?” “Deal,” “Deal, ” Zartsi hissed. hi ssed.
them and crossed his arms across his chest
“All right, then, lads. I’ll be up in the bridge,
as he leaned back against some plastic sacks.
getting us into the black, so why don’t you
The cargo bay was lit only by dim gray lights
two just sit yourselves down here?”
from overhead. “It would make me a lot less
O’Donnell left the cargo bay then, hands
inclined to try and kill you first chance I find
stuck in the pockets of his overalls. Takeda
if you have enough money to pay me for
could hear Vass screaming outside, demanding
passage.”
that the Brass Shield open to him. He shivered.
Zartsi reached into a pocket of his armor and held up a bag. “Two “ Two hundred Silvers.” Silvers.” “Not bad. About makes up for the cargo I left behind.” O’Donnell took the sack from Zartsi, weighed it, and ran a hand through his mane of red hair. He narrowed his eyes, and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, thinking. Takeda kept his pistol trained and listened li stened for any other crewmen. He could feel his abilities beginning to ebb, but now he found that, when he concentrated, he could keep them from leaving him—just as he had summoned them only a minute or two earlier, running across the blacktop. O’Donnell nodded n odded to himself. “All “All right. I’m pissed off that we can’t come back to Belar
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What had he gotten himself into? Then, before he could have another thought, he felt his stomach lurch as the Brass Shield lifted off the ground. #
Brian Vass’ men rarely heard him swear even mildly, which made it all the more shocking to them when he snarled out a series of curses that would have peeled the armor off a dreadnaught. The hot odor of scorched blacktop brushed at his nostrils as he watched the freighter rise into the blue sky, turn on its jets, and rocket off into the upper atmosphere. He could have done some damage to the lightly armored ship with his pulser, pulser, but it would still get away, and it wasn’t worth the
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon wasted ammo. He wanted to catch Croster alive, anyway, and see the look in his eyes as Vass burnt him down to ash.
“What about Greendome?” the man asked. Greendome. Yes. Extraordinarily affluent
Another one of his men had been shot, and
for a colony city, but still nothing compared
a second one was missing—Vass had a strong
to the cities of Imperial worlds. There were
suspicion that, if he h e looked, he’d he’d find the man
pretty girls there, but not like the beauties of
with a bullet through his head, or maybe a
worlds like Hyderra and Yamang. Vass knew
knife in his chest, or even just a broken neck
he was good at what he did, and with the
or a smashed skull.
capture of a dangerous criminal like Croster
And this Lithrallian Croster had shown up
as his starting point, he might well be able to
with...V with... Vass had heard a few things about some
build a career for himself in the wider w ider galaxy. galaxy.
hunter who lived in the jungles and sold hard-
His experience would probably get him an
to-find trophies to the colonies. He had never
officer’s commission in the Imperial Police,
assigned the rumors any importance—he
and from there, his career could go as high as
couldn’t gain anything by stomping around
System Commissioner...he Commissioner...he was still young.
the jungle looking for one illegal. But now, it
Croster would die first—Vass couldn’t let
seemed that he had somehow joined up with
him get away so easily, after humiliating him
Croster and helped him get off-planet.
and killing so many of his officers. And then...
“What now, Captain?” one of his men asked. Vass exhaled slowly, holstering his pulser. The freighter was no more than a speck of
the possibilities were endless. endless . He could always come back to Greendome, but recently he had begun to think that bigger things awaited him.
red light in the sky overhead, now, and still
“Wherever you go, Croster,” he whispered
shrinking. “First,” he hissed, “I’m going to
to himself, “I’ll track you down. And then I’ll
arrest that customs officer for aiding and
kill you.”
abetting a dangerous illegal. Then...” He clenched the rubber grip of his pulser. “Then I’m going to go after him. I can find
Next month...Chapter 4: “Dark Streets”
out where that freighter was heading, and I’ll follow him until I catch up with him and kill the bastard.”
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Issue 06, September 15, 2006
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Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon
Sean T.M. Stiennon
of Albion trilogy, and King Solomon’s Mines by H.
Sean is an author of fantasy and science con
Rider Haggard. He has reviewed books for Deep
novels and short stories with many publicaons
Magic: The E-zine of High Fantasy and Science
under his belt. His rst short story collecon, Six
Ficon , and currently reviews books at SFReader.
with Flinteye , was recently released from Silver
com.
Lake Publishing, and he won 2nd place in both the 2004 SFReader.com Short Story Contest and
To contact the author, send an e-mail to
the Storn Cook Razor-Edged Ficon Contest with
[email protected].
his stories “ Asp” Asp” and “ The “ The Sultan’s Well ,” ,” respec-
happy to receive reader feedback.
The
author
is
always
vely. “ The The Sultan’s Well ” has been published in the anthology Sages and Swords . Sean’s short story
“ Flinteye’s Flinteye’s
Duel”
was
published
in
Ray Gun Revival, Issue 01 . Sean’s work tends to contain lots of acon and adventure, but he oen includes elements of tragedy and loss alongside roaring bales. A lot of his work centers around connuing char acters, the most prominent of whom is Jalazar
Flinteye ( Six Six with Flinteye ). He also writes tales of Shabak of Talon Point (“ Death Death Marks ,” in issue #9 of Amazing Journeys Magazine ), Blade-
master (“ Asp Asp ,” 2nd place winner in the 2004 SF Reader.com Contest), and others who have yet to see publicaon. Sean loves to read fantasy and science con alongside some history, mysteries, and historical novels. His favorites include Declare by Tim Powers, the Memory , Sorrow , and Thorn
trilogy by Tad Williams, Stephen Lawhead’s Song
Ray Gun Revival
Issue 06, September 15, 2006
Pg.
Serial: "To the Stars," by Sean T. M. Sennon
The Jolly RGR Up next or Ray Ray Gun Revival, Issue 07
Overlord’s Overlord ’s Lair Editorial
Fiction: Kiss Me Now, Kill Me Later
by John M Whalen Jack Brand drops into the Tulon jungle in search of his ex-partner, Frank Cassidy. Cassidy robbed a bank and crashed his Air-Ski in the middle of nowhere. When a wild adventuress joins the hunt, Brand nds the trail leading to Cassidy takes some unexpected turns. Fiction: Chances
by David Siegel Bernstein My name is Descartes Descartes Aliquot. I am a government government Arcial Intelligence. Intelligence. It doesn’t maer maer which human government made me -- there is only one now, now, the Galacc Union. The GU’s inuence stretches across all the human colonies in the Milky Way. I helped to create it. But there were others others out there. Not human. human. Not us. ctly what he appears to be.” ‐
Deuces Wild, Part Four
Exclusive Serial by L. S. King Slap and Tristan go their separate ways, and each nds trouble in “Knight Errant.”
by S
Featured Artist
Ray Gun Revival
Issue 06, September 15, 2006