THRILLING TALES FROM BEYOND THE ETHER
Sixteen In A Row by Casey Chan
Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate Chapter 11: One More Such Victory by Johne Cook
Serial: Memory Wipe Chapter 11: The Waste by Sean T. M. Stennon Stennon
Issue 22 May 15, 2007 “What If.....” by Ali Ries
Pg. 2
Table of Contents Table of Content Contentss 2 Overlord’ss Lai Overlord’ Lairr 3 Sixteen In A Ro Row w, by Casey Chan 5 Featured Artist: Ali Ries 10 Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate Chapter 11: One More Such Victory Victory,, by Johne Cook Serial: Memory Wipe, Chapter 11: The Waste by Sea Sean n T. M. Stiennon 29 The RGR Time Capsule: Capsule: May 01 - May 14, 20 2007 07 38
12
Overlords (Founders / Editors): L. S. King, Paul Chrisan Glenn, Johne Cook Venerable Staff: A.M. Sckel - Managing Copyeditor Shannon McNear - lord high advisor, grammar consultant, listening ear/sanity saver for overlord Lee Paul Chrisan Glenn - PR, sounding board, strong right hand L. S. King - lord high editor, proofreader, beloved nag, muse, webmistress Johne Cook - art wrangler, desktop publishing, chief cook and bole washer
Slushmasters (Submissions Editors): Sco M. Sandridge, John M. Whalen, David Wilhelms, Shari L. Armstrong, Jack Willard
Serial Authors: Sean T. M. Sennon, Lee S. King, Paul Chrisan Glenn, Johne Cook Cover Art: “What If.....” by Ali Ries 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 Revival logo design by Hatchbox Creative Visit us online at http://raygunrevival.com
All content content copyrigh copyrightt 2007 by by Double-edged Publishing , a Memphis, Tennessee-based non-prot publisher. Rev: 20070515b
Ray Gun Revival magazine
Issue 22, May 15, 2007
Pg. 3
Overlord’s Lair
I
’m going to introduce the stories in this issue rst and leave the commentary commentary unl last. Sck around—I think you’ll agree it’s worth waing for. for. First up this issue issu e is a story I’ve been looking forward to for some me. A publishing friend of mine passed this story along—it was developing nicely, but wasn’t quite the right t for his publicaon. It is, however, perfect for Ray Gun Revival . The story is from an author wring with the pen name Casey Chan, and is called Sixteen In a Row . Casey has been working on this story for some me, and each new iteraon has goen stronger and more focused. This story has been a real real labor of love for Casey, Casey, and I love how it turned out. Here’ Here’ss the tease. A fugive human caravan awaits the opening of a wormhole so that it can escape to another galaxy. Meanwhile, a lone pilot, facing overwhelming odds as he waits to ambush a squadron of deadly Flies, argues with his ship’s arcial intelligence about the meaning of Louie Armstrong. You want to believe that one guy can make a dierence,” Cull said. Starlight and shadows lled the cockpit. A so red light pulsed on the tacca taccall monitor for every new Fly that came within range. range. He only had to hold them for een minutes. Cull looked out across the expanse of space, toward a dim cluster of stars. With his aqua eyes full of love, he imagined he could see movement where the caravan was, where Corrina was…
This next story is Chapter 11 of the swashbuckling serial, The Adventures of The Sky Pirate . This chapter is entled One More Such Victory , and references refer ences the original Pyrrhic victory. victory. I’ve been working toward this chapter since we started in July of 2006. It’s got something for for everybody, everybody, but the one thing it doesn’t have is one rather crucial explanaon. I wrote that rst, but it didn’t really t this chapter, so I’ve tabled that explanaon for the beginning of chapter 12 in June.
Ray Gun Revival magazine
Trust me, there’s plenty else to keep your aenon: loss, romance, impending danger, a bale at sea, and the introducon of a colorful colorful new pirate. pirate. One hero rises and another falls. Cooper Flynn is gone and Cadet Pi has lost his way. It would take take a miracle to pull him out of his doldrums. That’s when the bloody pirate Kzan L’ngrae and his captured ship-of-the-line, the Galley Villainy, assemble a pirate eet and threaten the academy. Funny how somethi something ng so bad can put a spring in a giant’s step, especially when he suddenly discovers that he has something to live for aer all—the love of an understanding woman. The news swept the academy campus as only carefully guarded secrets can. The rumors reached Pi’s ears, and he decided something then and there. He stood up suddenly in the darkness, his movement more more sensed than heard. heard. Startled by his appearance, the chaering young men put hands to swords. Pi stalked right toward them, oblivious of their numbers, and they parted before him like the impetuous waters parng before the bow of the Galley Villainy .
The featured arst this issue is Ali Ries, a noted digital arst, and she has a cover that we found interesng and thought-provok thought-provoking. ing. Ali’ Ali’ss work has been featured ve mes on sci.com, and we’re very excited to feature her work and her interview in this issue. Finally, we have Chapter 11, The Waste, of Sean T. M. Sennon’s ongoing serial, Memory Wipe. Aer an orbital aack by the alien assassin Lashiir Lashiir,, the three are stranded on the surface of Nihil, over a hundred miles away from the colony town Hope’s End. There, Takeda hopes to nd answers from a man named Cramer Orano...if he can survive one of the galaxy’s harshest deserts.
Beinnen had a gun in a locked box on the windowsill. The men blocked his path to it. One man scratched his beard lazily and said, “You treated a man calling himself Takeda Croster.” Issue 22, May 15, 2007
Pg. 4
Good-bye, Starsky
“I did. Why? Are you police?” Again, the men ignored him. “Where are your records?” “At my oce. Look, maybe I forgot to lock the door, but I want both of you out. Now. Come to my clinic tomorrow, and we’ll talk it over.” The blonde one took a step forward. “We aren’t police,” he said, “but we’ve been looking for Takeda for a very long me...
And that brings me back to the topic I’ve been thinking about all week. Overlord Loriendil is, of course, a nickname for a genuine person, Lee S. King, a person as gentle and giving as her RGR persona is fearsome and mercurial. This week, Lee’s best friend in the whole enre world lost her bale with cancer cancer.. Lee drove halfway across the country to aend the funeral and minister to her friend’s family.
For over thirty years, ‘Starsky’ was my best friend, and we were closer than sisters. Now, I have to say good-bye to the best part of me. My inseparable partner in high school, we even got our picture in the yearbook one year as Starsky and Hutch. We graduated together, and our friendship never faltered or lessened. If anything, we got closer. My dearest, my best friend, partner, buddy, pal, sister—the best part of my heart, I’m going to miss you... 12 May 2007
I’m a guy and I don’t handle extreme emoon very well. My own own imperious and detached detached persona reects something of my own recence to deal with emoons. I can be giddy over tries that mean nothing—new music or lm or books—but, when genuine tragedy strikes, I stumble around with my my hands in my pockets and try not to embarrass anybody anybody.. I’m not under any illusions about the genuine impact of this virtual rag. rag. This is a frivolous bit of fun that we’re pung out as our homage to classic space opera, and as a way to maybe keep something alive that meant something to us somewhere along the way. way. But friendships mean something. They transcend space and me and distance. Perhaps they can even transcend death. I believe they can. Lee, this one’s for you.
Johne Cook
Ray Gun Revival magazine
Issue 22, May 15, 2007
"The Bale for Monday Morning," by Jordan Lapp
Pg. 5
Sixteen In A Row by Casey Chan
“Y
ou want to believe that one guy can make a difference,” Cull said. Starlight and shadows filled the cockpit. A soft red light pulsed on the tactical monitor for every new Fly that came within range. He only had to hold them for fifteen minutes. minutes. Cull looked out across the expanse of space, toward a dim cluster of stars. With his aqua eyes full of love, he imagined he could see movement where the caravan was, where Corrina was… “Your thought’s history is complicated,” said A.I., interrupting Cull’s thoughts. “Those who have acted upon it have had varying degrees of success—“ “I’m not the first person with the idea?” Cull said sarcastically. Some of the Flies were within plain sight. “No. There have been many, but perhaps less than you would expect in nine millennia of recorded history,” said A.I. “However, the individual who ‘makes a difference’, or the individual who ‘beats the odds’ is one of your cultures enduring themes. The majority of accounts are of successful exploits. Although this number is probably not representative, as those who failed are typically unrecognized or forgotten.” “Let me tell you a story, A.I.” “It is probable that I already know it.” “Humor me,” Cull said. The tactical monitor showed twelve ships approaching. There was a timer running on the monitor: it now read 14:07:22; when it hit 00:00:00, the wormhole would open, and the refugees would escape through it. “You heard of Louie Armstrong?” Cull asked.
Ray Gun Revival magazine
“20th century trumpet player: jazz musician.” “That’s right.” Cull’s voice was strung tight. He was nervous, which embarrassed him, although he did note that it was ridiculous to be embarrassed in front of the computer. “So Louie’s been playing this club in Chicago, during Prohibition – ” A.I. interrupted: “We are now within the Flies’ sensor range. We will be within their weapons’ range in two minutes. They will be in our weapons’ weapons ’ range in three minutes.” The caravan represented the last surviving humans. They were civilians, mostly women and children. Cull and the Mr. Momentum represented the last of the humans’ once mighty military. They were the last line of defense between the Flies and the extinction of the human race. Cull looked at a picture on a small, hand-held digital screen of a beautiful woman, with bountiful, curling brown hair hair.. “A.I., can we get a message to the caravan?” “Any communication could be detected by the Flies’ sensors and would be a grave risk to our mission,” A.I. responded. Cull thumbed the small crystal screen. “Yeah, I know,” Cull said, his voice trailing off. He’d already said everything to her there was to say, but he wished he could say it all again. The Mr. Momentum drifted toward its predators. A.I. had put the ship in an artificial hibernation to create the appearance that it was nothing more than a bit of cosmic debris. Cull returned to his story: story: “—so old Satchmo’s Satchmo’s the hottest act in town and everybody’s going to
Issue 22, May 15, 2007
Sixteen In A Row, by Casey Chan the club he plays. But the local mafia’s losing all sorts of dough in liquor sales, because Louie’s not playing their club.” The plan was to wait until the Flies were within range. A.I. would kick-start the engine, which would initiate a warm-up thrust. The warm-up would last ten seconds before the ship would leap lea p to full-speed. During these ten seconds, Cull’s job would be to gather souls like the Angel of Death. “So one night, Satch gets up on stage to start his set. But just as he starts playing, some cat in the audience stands up, pulls out his horn, and starts playing too. It was a direct challenge, like a gunfight in the Old West. Satch isn’t fazed, he just steps it up a notch and buries the kid—the kid sits down.” Cull could definitely see the Flies now. He’d never fought one before, and he was surprised how small they looked. The tactical monitor indicated that there were sixteen of them, moving in a double-spear formation. Cull could feel his heart beat in the base of his throat. “But, uh, just as Louie got ready to go on with his show,” Cull took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out slowly, “another guy stands up, and he’s got his trumpet, and he starts playing. And he’s better than the first kid.” “We are now within the Flies’ Flie s’ weapons’ range,” A.I. said. “Give me a countdown until they’re in our weapons’ range. range.” ” The wormhole timer read 12:04:32. “So Louie just lets the guy play for a minute, smiles his big old smile—he chuckles. Then he blasts the guy right out of the house. But right when the second guy leaves, a third guy stands up and starts playing.” Cull changed his mind. The Flies did not look small; in fact, they were enormous. Cull noticed their distinctive mark, the eyes. On the hull of each Fly were two large-bubbled turrets where
Ray Gun Revival magazine
Pg. 6 gunmen manned deadly cannons. Fly gunmen, it was said, competed among themselves to shoot anything that moved. It would be funny if they shot me down and never even knew I was here to ambush them. Talk about unrecognized and forgotten forgott en, Cull thought. Well, not ’funny’ exactly . “Cull?” A.I. said. Cull hadn’t noticed that he had stopped speaking. “Oh, yeah, so—it just goes on like that. Louie plays down one trumpeter, and then another one stands up. One after another; one after another. You see, the mafia was trying to drive Louie out of town, and they knew if somebody beat him, he’d have to pack his bags and go back to New Orleans. So this goes on for nine trumpeters, for two hours. Louie plays every single last one of them out of the club.” A.I. had turned off the weapons to avoid detection. Once they were turned on, they wouldn’t be ready to be fired for five seconds. “Are you analogizing our situation to Louis Armstrong’s?” A.I. asked. Twenty seconds, the monitor read. The wormhole timer read 11:15:02. “Well, yeah, I guess. Yes, I am.” “But there were nine trumpeters. There are sixteen Flies.” “Oh, c’mon! Do you think it would have mattered to Louie? Do you honestly think he couldn’t have popped off sixteen in a row?” “But he was allowed to deal with each of his opponents individually,” A.I. said. “We will have to deal with all sixteen Flies simultaneously.” “You’re useless, A.I. You can lead a computer to logic, but you can’t make it think.” “Also, are you assuming that your skill s kill in combat is equivalent to Armstrong’s skill in music?” “Now you’re getting downright obnoxious…” Cull said. Seven seconds until weapons’ range. Cull’s ears were unexpectedly filled with a
Issue 22, May 15, 2007
Sixteen In A Row, by Casey Chan horrendous buzzing and crackling; the Flies were jacking into into his communi communications cations system system.. “HALT, TERRORIST,” a voice came through the Mr. Momentum’s monitors. 10:20:02 remained: the caravan wasn’t going to have enough time. “Damn! Engines, weapons, go!” Cull said. The gambit had failed. He would have to improvise. The countdown began for his thrusters to fire. 5 “TERRORIST: POWER-DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND ENGINES IMMEDIATELY.” 4 “Cull, a Fly is firing its lead cannon,” A.I. said. 3 “C’mon, C’mon, C’mon!” Cull yelled at his engines. The Flies were nearly upon him. He could see the turrets swiveling and their weapons training on him. 2 Three Flies unleashed a volley of fission bolts. Two flashed by Cull’s Cull’s cockpit like like lightning. One struck like a hammer, obliterating half of the starboard wing. Cull’s body was jolted, the wind knocked from his solar plexus. 1 Finally, the engines fired. Cull, choking for air, began to maneuver the Mr. Momentum. More lightning flashing by, Cull desperately slalomed between volleys. His frontal assault had surprised the Flies, and soon Cull was under their black metal bellies. He squeezed squeezed the red triggers for his guns, gutting a Fly with daggers of fire. 09:23:22 As quickly as he’d destroyed the first Fly, he darted under a second, firing into its belly. The Mr. Momentum ripped out from under the Fly squadron, looping hard at 10,000 kilometers per hour.. Gravity crushed Cull’s body against his chair hour until he was nauseated. “How we doin’, A.I.?” Cull said, his voice trembling with velocity and adrenaline.
Ray Gun Revival magazine
Pg. 7 “Thirteen Flies remain,” A.I. responded. “Structural integrity is at 70 percent. Approximately twenty-five rounds of ammunition remaining.” 08:45:13 “Not bad, not bad at all,” Cull said, bringing the ship out of its loop, nose pointed toward the Flies. “Can we get some music? Louie Armstrong, ‘What a Wonderful World’?” The symphony of violins cued up and meandered up their melodious path; Louie’s sweet, gravelly voice began. I see trees of green, red roses too… The Flies bore down hard on the Mr. Momentum. …I see them bloom, for me and you… This time all the Flies spewed fire, and Cull plunged into it, narrowly dodging one bolt, then two—but being hit by a third and a fourth. His tactical monitor burst into flames, and burning sparks and metal sprayed Cull’s face and body. He screamed; his right arm was mangled. Louie serenaded him. …and I think to myself, what a wonderful world… Cull was underneath the Flies again. “A.I., fire, fire, fire!” and the Mr. Momentum’s guns exploded into the hulls of four Flies. …The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky… “A.I. full speed.” “Cull, we have lost one engine and the other is severely damaged. dama ged.” ” “Just go! Give me everything you’ve got. got.” ” The Mr. Momentum labored forward at 400 kilometers per hour hour.. Two Flies pursued, their weapons burning up Cull’s tail. 06:56:32 “A.I., I need navigational overrides disengaged.” “Disengaged.” The Flies were on him, at nearly point-blank
Issue 22, May 15, 2007
Sixteen In A Row, by Casey Chan
range. Cull wrenched the ship askew from its spiraling course, forcing it to lurch and spin sideways. The torque ripped the port wing from the ship’s body, body, and it spun s pun away into space. Cull’s head wanted to burst from the furious friction. The Flies overshot him, unable to change course, and Cull blacked out as he pulled the trigger, shooting down the two Flies. 05:04:22 As the Mr. Momentum drifted through the burning remains of the Flies, Cull regained consciousness. For a moment, space was quiet, except for Louie’s magnanimous crooning. crooning. His thoughts drifted to the baby… I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do. They’re really saying, I love you. …what would its name be? “Cull,” A.I. said. “The Flies are approaching.” approaching.” “How many’d I get?” “Nine, Cull. C ull.” ” “So what do you think? A performance worthy of Satchmo?” “Yes, Cull, I think it is comparable.” “So what do we got left?” “Structural integrity is 7 percent. percent. We have no engines. We have no ammunition.” “How long ‘til the worm hole opens?” “Approximately five f ive minutes.” “We need to buy them more time.” “How?” A.I. asked. Cull looked out at the millions of stars, and at the seven black masses looming. The baby had to have a name! Cull thought. “Think “T hink A.I.! Think! What can can we do?” “Cull,” A.I. said. “Consider Louis Armstrong.” “What?!” “By the end of his career as a musician, he had played the trumpet to such an extent that his lips
Ray Gun Revival magazine
Pg. 8
were literally destroyed. He played until he had nothing left. left.” ” Cull looked about the cockpit, and gave the interior a pat. “Now there you you go, A.I. I almost wish I could hug you,” he said. “Is the nuclear reactor still functioning?” “Yes,” A.I. said, “barely.” Cull exhaled, and smiled sadly. “Destabilize the reactor.” “Done.” “A.I., tell Corrina…and the baby…” “I know, Cull.” I hear babies cryin’, I watch them grow They’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know And I think to myself, what a wonderful world Yes, I think to myself, what a wonderful world 04:19:36 Cull watched his instruments as the engine core began to heat, then overheat, and then… Space buckled at the neutron explosion. A cascade of radiation ripped through the sky. The remaining Flies turned to dust. #
25 years later.
Children in colorful clothing chased a red ball through a sunny field. Their teacher, teacher, a young woman, watched them with loving, aqua eyes. She called them to the tiled patio. When they had all arrived and sat down cross-legged, she gave each of them a snack of bread, fruit, and cream. The teacher called out toward the nearby classroom.
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Sixteen In A Row, by Casey Chan
Pg. 9
“A.I., could you join us?” From inside, a large, white globe floated out onto the patio. “Children,” the teacher said, “do you know what today is?” One of the children reported that it was Fifth Day. “Yes,” “Yes, ” the teacher said, smiling. “But it’s also a holiday.. Today is Hero’s holiday Hero’s Day. Day. A.I. is going to teach us a history lesson.” The white globe floated to the middle of the half-circle of children. “Thank you, Louise,” A.I. said to the teacher, whose curly, bountiful brown hair bounced as she turned. “Hello, children,” A.I. said. “I’m going to tell you about someone who made it possible for us to be here today today.. In fact, he was was your teacher’s father.. His name was Jacob Culbertson…” father As A.I. told his story, the swirling colors of the wormhole bloomed in the sky above New Earth.
Casey Chan Casey Carson Chan is the pen name of Kenny Ching, a lawyer who loves sci-fi and literary fiction.
Ray Gun Revival magazine
Issue 22, May 15, 2007
Pg. 10
Featured Arst: Euka
Featured Artist: Ali Ries Ries Name: Ali Name: Ali (Alice) Ries Age: 52 Age: 52 Hobbies: Computer graphics, graphics, watching watching scifi TV, digital photography, my granddaughter! Favorite Book / Author: Favorite Author: Asimov, Heinlein, Piers Anthony, David Weber Favorite Artist: Dali, David Ho, Giger, Giger, among many others. When did you start creating art? I have been interested in art in many forms over the years, like photography, photography, design etc. But I have only been doing serious art since around 1998. In what media do you work? Total work? Total computer graphics now. Where has your work been featured? I have been featured five times on Scifi.com and published in The Best of 3D Graphics . I have been in several online e-zines, and my current gallery is on deviantART, where I have received three Daily Deviations and numerous features. One pic has been used for a CD cover in Australia. Where should someone go if they wanted to view / buy some of your works?
http://casperium.deviantart.com/ How did you become an artist? I have always wanted to to be an artist, but couldn’t draw or paint worth a darn. With the advent of home computers and graphic graphic software, software, I have finally be able to make all of the artwork that lingers in my my head. I started out with Bryce 3D, and Micrografx Picture Publisher , and through lots of hard work and practice, I finally managed to create some acceptable artwork. But I consider myself far from being the master artiste that I want to become. What were your early influences? I think my earliest influences can be traced to the original Star Trek and all of the great sci-fi movies I have seen since then. What are your current influences? I would say sci-i still, but I am striving for more photorealistic space scenes. What inspired the art for the cover? Actually my husband did. About five
Ray Gun Revival magazine
Issue 22, May 15, 2007
Featured Arst: Ali Ries
Pg. 11 years back, he created the robot arm model, and made a pic of man and robot touching similar to the Michaelangelo painting. I recently found his pic and redid the theme in my own style. How would you describe your work? work? Retro sci-fi with a smattering of whimsy, and an occasional nebula that draws your breath away. Where do you get your inspiration in spiration / what inspires you? Besides great great current sci-fi and fantasy movies, I would have to say a bunch of artists on deviantART. Their artwork is aweinspiring and pushes me to want to learn more. Also fractals, which has allowed me to create my own style of space scenes using them as nebulae centerpieces.
Have you had any notable failures, and how has failure affected your work? Hmmmm.. work? Hmmmm.. it seems that whatever art piece I work the hardest on, put the most time and effort into, seems to bomb with the viewers. The pieces I love the most are most often failures with the public. I wouldn’t call them failures artistically, but they are not what pleases the crowds. So now when I work, I often do it without much forethought. I start a piece and go fairly fast on it, intuitively, and that seems to work better, and is usually very well received by the public. What have been your greatest successes? How has success impacted you/ your work? I think my greates greatestt success was being published. It gave me more confidence and now I try harder to learn and grow as an artist.
What are your favorite tools / equipment for producing your art? I would have to say that the graphic programs that I use the most are Mojoworld, Apophysis, Bryce and Poser , with a variety of plugins for my post-work, and Universe for all of my stars. What tool / equipment do you wish you had? There are quite a few programs and plugins out there I wish I had, but most I would would love to have have Vue 6 Infinity and and PhotoShop CS3. What do you hope to accomplish with your art? To make people smile, and for a moment to suspend their disbelief as they gaze at one of my space scenes and say, “WOW, I wish I were there.”
Ray Gun Revival magazine
Issue 22, May 15, 2007
Pg. 12
The Adventures of the Sky Pirate Brief mild adventure language - PG Chapter 11: One More Such Victory by Johne Cook
C
ommodore Dondely was in his office working by lamplight when a staffer knocked twice on the wood doorjamb. Dondely looked up over his bifocal lenses. “Come.” “Commodore, a message has arrived from Haddirron City for your eyes only. only.” ” The staffer staffer handed the sealed oilskin packet over, saluted, and quit the office, closing the door behind him. Dondely puffed on his pipe, a cheerful cherry aroma lingering in the air. air. He sat back, broke the wax seal, and opened the packet. packet. He smoothed the parchment out and read the scrawled lines thereon. His pipe hit the floor with a clatter, spilling tobacco everywhere. “L’ “L’ngrae? ngrae? Here? Now? ” He grabbed the parchment and bolted for the door.. He threw it open and bellowed, “Summon door the Officer of the Watch!” #
The news swept the academy campus as only carefully carefully guarded secrets can. The rumors reached Pitt’s ears and he decided something then and there. The gigantic young man was from the Reach islands, that fiercely independent—neutral would be the wrong word—group of islands between the Haddirron waters and Sylvan islands. Staunch friends, implacable enemies, Reachers were a people unto themselves, an island nation of legends. It was early in his third year at the Haddirron Naval Academy, Academy, and Pitt sat alone a lone in the dark dar k along the edge of the commons. He hadn’t realized
Ray Gun Revival magazine
how thoroughly he had been swept along in the wake of his former roommate’s swell, however, with Cooper Flynn gone, he found himself truly on the outside. Flynn had a way of being outside conventional routines and norms, and yet insinuating himself into the very heart of things when there was any excitement to be had, any information to be gleaned or traded, any wrong to be righted. And now Flynn was gone, destroyed as a preventive measure by Pitt’s own hand in an effort to save the lovely and spirited Deena Prentiss, an aspiring physician, or so he told himself at the time. However However,, in so doing, Pitt had destroyed his own place at the academy, and was now truly rudderless, adrift in the swirling social circles at the tight-knit institution. And yet it seemed as if Flynn was still with him. Pitt couldn’t decide if he was haunting him or helping him. Either way, Pitt now sat alone everywhere he went, equally intimidating people with the size of his body and the size of the black cloud that preceded and followed followed him. Aware of his uncomfortable status, he was too weary to care, or to attract the object of his affection, Vess Prentiss. Pitt kept his eyes open for Walenda Darden, his source for the news that ultimately doomed his erstwhile friend, but she was nowhere to be seen since that fateful day, a fact that he carefully—if listlessly—filed away for later mental digestion. If anything, Pitt had abundant time to think. Pitt frequently pulled KP peeling potatoes even though he didn’t do anything worth demerit.
Issue 22, May 15, 2007
Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook He just showed up one night, donned an apron, and shot a silent baleful look at the first one who started to comment on his presence there. From then on, he just showed up, peeled potatoes— whether they needed peeling or not—and nobody mustered the wherewithal to argue with him. On this night, the head cook, as broad as she was tall, shooed Pitt out—not unkindly—and he found himself in the shadows, listless, adrift with no land in sight. He clenched and unclenched his right hand reflexively, saw what he was doing, and quickly grabbed the edge of the short stonewall where he sat. He wanted to die. Salvation came in the form of two chattering underclassers. They walked walked along in the cheerful light of the incandescent globes recently installed along the perimeter of the commons, more strolling than making any time. “The ‘details’ vary widely but the fact remains clear—Kzan L’ngrae and a crew of 150 hardened pirates are cutting a swath through Haddirron shipping lanes and taking prizes left and right.” Pitt’s attention was piqued. “Who is this L’ngrae?” “Well, rumor has it that Captain L’ngrae has a fascination with Commodore Dondely, although nobody knows—or will say out loud—just why.” “I assume you’ve heard something…” “Well, yes, but far be it for me to gossip.” “Of course, of course.” They passed by, and the next group were males fixated on the ship. “ The Grand Villainy carries 34 cannons and a crew of 150.” “She sounds big.” “Well, she’s she’s a three-masted ship. I’ I’d d say she weighs in at close to 300 tons.” “That’s as big as a ship-of-the-line!” “She used to be a ship-of-the-line before she was captured by a flotilla of rowboats led by L’ngrae. She’s not fast, but she’s she’s brutal in close
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quarters.” “I’m glad she’s busy in the out-islands, then. Perhaps the fleet can put paid to her there.” “That’s the thing—the fleet is out on the high seas. She’s running amok, nearly unchallenged. And rumor has it that she’s coming this way.” And that’s when Pitt made his decision, right then and right there. He stood up suddenly in the darkness, his movement more sensed than heard. Startled by his appearance, the chattering young men put hands to swords. Pitt stalked right toward them, oblivious of their numbers, and they parted before him like the impetuous waters parting before the bow of the Galley Villainy. #
Deena Prentiss was an up-and-coming physician. Well past the normal four-year maximum, cadet physicians added another ‘tour of knowledge’ to their training before they were ready for the field, and Deena was one of the brightest minds in some time. She earned her celebrity and carried herself with grace, which was fortunate for the gaggle of young bucks that surrounded her, a group that seemed bent on all speaking at her at the same time. “What did you you do then?” “How did you keep your head?” “One as pretty as you must watch herself among those sorts!” A tall, self-sufficient brunette with striking blue eyes, Deena privately agreed with that last sentiment, although not as the speaker intended. “I cannot stay and chat long, cadets. The one in charge of tomorrow morning’s surgery classes will want me to be bright-eyed for instruction.” That wasn’t a total mistruth, as she was the one leading the class. The unified burst of protest was almost physical in its delivery, and she winced just a little. “No, stay!” “You cannot go!” “What will we we do without you?”
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook A great shadow stalked toward them, and the young cadets scattered with the exception of the last cadet, who perhaps imagined he still had a chance with her her.. “Deena…” rumbled a solemn Pitt, stopping as Deena looked past him toward Jel, the cadet. Pitt turned around and fixed Jel with an impassive scowl. “Vess Prentiss,” squeaked the cadet, and then trailed off as Pitt’s scowl slid into a baleful glare. “Begone!!” he roared, and the youngster’s resolve fractured. Jel fell backward off his feet, feet, caught his balance, turned, and skittered off into the darkness, his fragile self-confidence trailing behind him in tatters. Deena relaxed and smiled gratefully at Pitt. She raised raised one lazy eyebrow eyebrow.. “My protector! Thank you, you, Ven Ven Pitt. My entourage does not normally cling so fiercely. fiercely. You were saying?” “Deena, there are pirates within a week of the Academy.” She nodded in appreciation. “I’ “I’d d heard the news,” she said dryly. Pitt shook his head. “Th “They ey are a genuine danger.. In Flynn’s absence, I will protect you.” danger you.” Deena took his arm and pulled him over to a nearby bench. She sat and, after a moment’s moment’s hesitation, he sat as well, the wood creaking in protest. She smiled to herself and concentrated concentrated on what he was was in the process of saying. It wasn’t coming easy for the young giant, but she was tired of all the chattering. When Pitt spoke, he didn’t say much, but it was always worth listening to. “What about Flynn? His absence since the day of the hanging of the Sylvan spy has been strange, but it seems to have hurt you the most.” Pitt shot her a surprised look. Deena leaned toward him. “Oh, yes. I’ve noticed. You look like you you lost your best friend. They say you’ve been casting about, looking for something to direct your attentions toward.” toward.” She
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popped him on the shoulder with her fist, said “Ow!” to herself, and shook it out. Her lesson learned, she patted patted his arm. “ They call you ‘Pitt the Peeler’ behind your back!” A grin teased briefly at the corner of his mouth and then he became impassive again as he returned to his purpose. “Flynn was your man. He would have protected you.” Deena cocked her head. “Flynn? Whatever do you mean?” Pitt looked like he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “I… heard you were Flynn’s Flynn’s girl.” girl.” Deena exploded in surprised laughter and quickly covered her mouth, stifling the sound. She gained control of herself with effort. “No, I’m not ‘Flynn’s ‘Flynn’s girl’. girl’. It would take somebody with more gusto than me to catch that otter!” Relief followed by concern played out over Pitt’s simple features. features. He seemed very grateful, grateful, and yet was clearly uncomfortable with where this was going. “If you weren’t Flynn’s Flynn’s girlfriend, why did he seek you out so often at night?” She looked at Pitt with a wry grin. “He told you a great deal, apparently. apparently. What a rogue.” She shook her head in appreciation. “Flynn confided in you—that much is apparent. So I will, as well. Pitt, Flynn came to me in confidence because I have a… relationship…to the commodore. He gave me information pertinent to the security of the academy, academy, and I passed it along. That’s all, I promise you. Flynn and I…” She had to stifle another giggle. Pitt’s expression was curiously troubled. “Prentiss isn’t my real last name,” name,” she said. “It was my mother’s maiden name.” Pitt’s eyes grew large. “It is true,” she said, “that I have an inside track to the highest office at at the academy academy. It is something I keep very quiet for obvious reasons. Cyl only knows how Flynn discovered that, but instead of using that information to blackmail
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook me, he came to me to quietly pass anonymous messages to the Admiralty.” Pitt winced in confusion. She took pity on him. She laid one hand on his. “Pitt, Commodore Dondely is my father, father,” she said. #
The young man with black hair and black eyes sat on the porch looking idly out over the water to the west of the peninsula when a speck approached. It got close enough for him to stand up and put his fingers together at his lips. He whistled a distinct pattern, and it changed course and flew toward him, landing on the railing in front of him. He produced a honey-cake from the table next to him and broke off some pieces to feed to the message pigeon, and then removed the message tied to its slender leg. “Posgor!” he roared, and ran toward the lighthouse. #
Pitt was stunned. Deena spoke, spoke, telling her story. story. “My mother died when I was young, so I grew up as something of a tomboy. tomboy. I learned sailing from my father from an early age, and stayed with relatives as he went off to sea and returned with stories, trinkets, and lots of time just for me. I watched him become the man you see now, now, a living legend. But he’s he’s still just my padda to me. “The one difference is that Captain Dondely was known for taking lives—when necessary— and I wanted wanted to be known for for saving them. We both have a sense of national pride, and it was only natural for me to follow him into the service of the Crown. But he was already commodore here when I was ready to come to academy, so I met with him and offered to change my name
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while here to avoid any charges of nepotism or favoritism. He agreed. So ‘Deena Prentiss’ was born. “I don’t know how Flynn discovered my identity, but he was always a gentleman about keeping the secret. So when he uncovered items he thought would be of interest to the commodore, he went through me as a silent third party. party. The commodore didn’t know of Flynn’s existence, and Flynn didn’t abuse his knowledge of my identity. It was a system. “But then he uncovered something bigger than all of us, a Sylvan spy here at the academy.” Pitt’s expression had gone blank. “Is there any chance that Flynn might have been the spy?” That rocked Deena. “None. His information was good, and the spy confessed to us behind closed doors. Flynn did the academy a genuine service.” Pitt’s face turned white. He sprang off the bench and started pacing. Deena watched this display with alarm. “Is everything all right?” Pitt looked at her as he walked. “No.” “What happened?” He stalked back and forth She stood and put her hand on his arm. To his credit, that stopped him mid-stride without him snapping anything. “Pitt—what happened? You can tell me.” Pitt turned his head and looked down at her. “You don’t have a sister, do you?” “No,” she said, confused. Pitt turned and faced her, fists clenched, the cords standing out in his neck. His fury was tangible, but it washed over her without effect. She was curious, not in any way afraid. Pitt growled, “There is a traitor here at the academy,, one who has lied to me. I have made a academy grave mistake.” Deena reached up and framed his head with her hands, forcing him to look at her her.. “Tell me,” me,”
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook she said softly, softly, firmly. firmly. Lovingly. “Flynn is dead,” he said in a voice so soft that she nearly didn’t catch it, “…and I killed him.” #
In his workshop, Chain put the finishing touches on his latest project and started to don the apparatus. It appeared to be a backpack with two sturdy leather straps (hand-sewn by him) that went under the armpit and over the shoulders, and two others that criss-crossed over his chest. Wires ran from a crude circle affixed affixed to the central place where the straps crossed. Chain looked at Rocksie. “What do you you think? Are we ready for this?” She tentatively wagged her tail once, which could have meant anything, but probably didn’t have any relation to his actual question. The gesture wasn’t lost on Chain. “Yeah, I’m not sure, either. either.” He walked to the front of the warehouse and opened both doors so the light spilled out onto the wood dock and out over the quiet bay beyond. Chain checked the straps, the leather creaking comfortably.. He squared his shoulders, took a comfortably deep breath, pressed the button on his chest, and stepped forward out over the bay. The straps creaked as they absorbed his weight, and then he was floating! There was a loud pop and smoke erupted from his backpack. The floor fell out beneath him and Chain dropped like a rock into the bay, disappearing quickly below the water’s surface. Rocksie padded over to the edge of the dock and peered down at the water water.. She wagged her tail once and settled down to see what happened next. #
A calculating look came over Deena’s face. “Who and what put you up to this?”
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Pitt started pacing again. “I don’t know who it is, but it’s it’s a female. female. She claimed that you you were sisters, that Flynn lied about the Sylvan traitor, and that you were next. She asked for my help.” Pitt’s words rocked Deena. “Oh, “Oh,” ” she said. “You killed your best friend to protect me?” Pitt nodded unhappily. “How did you… Is there any chance…” “I held him by his ankle over the edge of a cliff and dropped him when I thought he was lying. He wouldn’t reveal your relationship to the commodore. I thought he was lying.” “Which cliff?” “Rhapsody Heights.” Deena winced. “Oh, no. Those are jagged rocks down there…” She looked Pitt in the eye. “Pitt, you’re a good man,” she said, “You made a difficult decision based on the lie of a traitor traitor.. But you didn’t know that, and you did what you felt you should to protect the academy, academy, to protect me. That’s a huge sacrifice of conflicting love impulses. It ultimately came down to what you believed to be true rather than what you wanted to be true.” She laid her hand alongside his face. “Th “Thank ank you,” you, ” she said, and then she drew his face down to hers. She kissed him. Pitt, stunned, cooperated with her. her. She sighed and laid her head against his chest. Pitt was stiff for a moment, unsure what to do, and then gingerly wrapped one bear-like arm around her. her. She snuggled closer against his chest and they stayed there for a timeless moment, lost in each other and the still of a summer night. She finally stepped back and took his hand in hers, gently drawing him back to to the bench. They seated themselves there again (with another heroic creak on his side of things). They sat there together on the bench for a long time, gazing into each other’s eyes, engaged in quiet conversation. Hidden deep in the shadows, Cooper Flynn gazed proudly at the two young lovers as he
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observed them under the cover of moondappled trees and the deep of night. It’s about time, he thought, and then he carefully faded away into the night. #
Posgor Point, on the far southwest side of the peninsula, was a little shorter than Rhapsody Heights to the northeast, but the lighthouse perched at the top actually achieved the tallest point for for miles in either direction. And it was there Flynn went to next, arriving before dawn at the door to the sprawling cottage that served the lighthouse. He regained regained his breath and rapped rapped on the door. Old Posgor himself answered the door holding a steaming mug of tea and what smelled like lemon and honey. honey. “You again, again,” ” he said, but his twinkling eyes belied his words. “I want to be up there at dawn,” dawn,” said Flynn. “I think this may be the day.” Posgor—the grandson of the original lighthouse builder—smiled. “So you you said yesterday yesterday,, and the day before that.” Flynn produced a tiny, curled, parchment. “The messenger bird finally arrived.” “Who is it from?” Flynn grinned. “If I said ‘the Friar’ Friar ’, would you believe me?” Posgor grinned right back. “If I didn’t, would you know any better?” Flynn mock bowed and the two of them t hem started ascending the many steps, racing the approaching dawn to the top. Despite the age of the older man, he reached the top first barely winded, while Flynn was gulping air a little deeper. “I count…two thousand one hundred and twelve steps,” said Flynn.
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“Aye, Aye,” ” said s aid Posgor, “you’ve counted them, but have you named them?” He cackled and it was was infectious. Dawn broke broke while they laughed. Flynn straightened and unclipped the telescoping spy glass. Twenty minutes later later,, he whistled and Posgor came over, oilcan in hand. Flynn handed it over. “What do you think?” “Three-four-five. “T hree-four-five. I count five smaller vessels in the distance.” “They could be anything, though, right?” “They could be reinforcements, a trading flotilla, who-knows-what.” “Are you expecting anything like that?” Posgor took that as a rhetorical question. They took turns scanning the horizon for the next half-hour, and then Posgor whistled again, a long, low sound. “Those are not ours,” he said. “Oh? Why you say that,” that,” asked Flynn, putting the glass to his eye. He saw the big black sails almost immediately, and took his own statement as the rhetorical question. “Posgor “Posgor,, my my friend– light the flare and flash the codes—they’re here.” “What are you going to do?” Flynn grinned. “I’m going to go stop them!” Posgor said, “Well, “Well, get moving. There are two thousand one hundred and twelve reasons to get started right r ight away, then.” Flynn looked over the edge at the water at the foot of the cliff. “How deep is that water?” “Deep enough,” enough,” said Posgor Posgor.. “Why do you you ask?” “Any rocks down there?” “No—we go swimming in that cove as long as the tide is up. “It’s a long way way down. You aren’t thinking of…”
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook “No time to think,” said Flynn, a daring statement that would have been more dashing if his voice hadn’t trembled so badly badly.. He climbed nimbly onto a rail post and took a deep breath. Then, keeping his ankles together, he leaned forward from his head and pushed off, leaping straight out into space, his arms spread out like a gull. He disappeared from view and was gone. “Amusing choice of last words,” observed Posgor,, puffing on his pipe. He stepped to the Posgor rail and leaned over to wait for the splash. He watched Flynn draw his arms in front of him and then disappear below the surface with the barest splash. Posgor smoked smoked his pipe until Flynn reappeared some distance away, bobbing up in the waves of the cove. They waved to each other, and then Posgor got busy with the flags and lightbox to warn the academy of the invading pirate force as Flynn struck off for the path up the cliff. #
The Officer of the Watch received the message that Posgor had spotted sails from the lighthouse and raised the alarm for all hands to gather on the Commons. A sergeant stopped by their bench and gave them the news before before moving on. Deena kissed Pitt on the cheek and followed the Sergeant, and Pitt followed Deena. She stopped and looked looked at him. She smiled and took Pitt’s arm and they walked there together together.. Strangely, Pitt felt like he belonged to the throng when he was with Deena instead of feeling like an ice-cutter slicing through frigid waters. As they walked, the word raced throughout the academy; the pirate fleet was close: L’ngrae had finally come calling. Pitt listened to the snatches of gossip as he strode along. Each rumor was more ludicrous than the last, but the common theme was the same: that Commodore Dondely
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and Kzan L’ngrae had ‘a history’, something deep and dark and worth mounting an attack on Her Majesty’s naval academy over. Commodore Dondely stood on the platform and addressed the assembly. assembly. He dove right in without preamble. preamble. “Listen up. A pirate fleet led by Kzan L’ngrae has been sighted to the west. They are clearly coming here. They knew when to attack. attack. Our fleet is east of here conducting wide ocean exercises and are not due to return for another week. Those assembled stirred briefly until Sergeant Crawse called for parade rest, and those assembled assumed their positions positio ns and held their tongues. The commodore continued. “Our fastest sloop has been dispatched to retrieve the fleet, but we must assume they will not be able to help us. Sailors, we are on our own. We will likely likely wait for L’ngrae L’ngrae to come close enough to shore to fire on, so all remaining artillery crews should report to the west coast batteries and await further orders. Those ranking officers who remain, join me at the Dock offices to agree on our strategy. strategy. Cadets report to your barracks until you are summoned. May Cyl be with us all. Dismissed.” The cadets came to attention, saluted, and dispersed. Pitt stood where he was, thinking. Deena watched Pitt from the back of the dais. When he started walking, it wasn’t toward the barracks, but for the paved street that led down to the docks. This time, Deena discretely followed Pitt. #
The commodore and the remaining officers had a difficult decision ahead of them; how to defend the academy while the bulk of their fleet was a week away. For his part, Pitt’s decision was easy, if daring and worthy of court-martial. While the wiser
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook heads debated resources reso urces and strategy, Pitt calmly approached the one remaining warship, watching as all hands scurried back and forth making preparations to cast off, if the time came. The sun was well up when Pitt walked up the gangplank. He stood on deck and watched all the activity. He stopped one of the passing midshipmen. “Where is the First Officer?” The middie pointed, sketched a salute, and scurried off. Pitt put his arms behind his back and strode confidently to the first officer. officer. “First Officer, Officer, I am Captain Pitt. I was roused from my garden and have been tasked to meet the pirate L’ngrae with all invention and vigor. vigor. Make ready to cast off. off.” The first officer received this news and arched his eyebrow. eyebrow. “Ven, I don’t recognize you as a captain. Have you orders to this affect?” “No, I don’t have have written orders. Are you dense? I said I was roused from my garden garden by the news of the inbound pirate pirate fleet. The commodore saw me, verbally gave me the order to get this ship out of port, and I came straight straight here. Make way!” The first officer’ officer ’s expression became more and more conflicted. “Ven, I have to have some form of confirmation other than just your say-so.” Pitt said, “Do you know Deena Prentiss?” The first said, “Yes, we all do.” Pitt stepped closer closer.. “Do you really know Deena Prentiss? Prentiss? Who she really is?” The first looked around him, clearly uncomfortable. Pitt said, “Come now—nobody else will overhear.. Do you or don’t you overhear you know her real identity?” “I know,” know,” whispered whis pered the first officer. Pitt nodded. “Come with me. me.” ” Pitt walked to the railing and looked around, finally finding Deena standing in the shadows by the corner of a building. He waved to to her and motioned her to
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step out into the sun. Wearing a sheepish grin, she stepped forward. Pitt said, “Watch this. You know who she is, and she has been sent to reassure you that my orders are genuine. If she waves, we are endorsed by you-know-who to cast off, and I will give you further orders when we are out to sea. Fair enough?” The first officer liked this not at all, but he was a good first officer, and finally said, “Yes, Ven.” Pitt looked at Deena and raised his right hand. Deena’s smile stretched from ear-to-ear, and she waved enthusiastically enthusiastical ly.. The first officer nodded once to himself, turned to Pitt, saluted, and said, “Captain, the ship is yours. I am First Officer Tenchiss.” Tenchiss.” Pitt returned his salute. “Pleasure to make your company company.. I am Captain Pitt. Cast off and take us out with full sail, Mister Tenchiss.” “Yes, Ven.” He strode off and started barking orders. Pitt turned back to the rail and waved at Deena who dimpled and waved back, throwing him a kiss. Pitt smiled and waved one last time, turned, and breathed a sigh of relief. So much for the easy part. #
Flynn was still buttoning up his uniform when he made it down to the dock, running carefully to avoid the buzz of activity. activity. He arrived at the waterfront just in time to see the Regal Lady make way out of the academy harbor and set a course for the southeast. Flynn saw Deena watching the departure. He did not see an astonished Walenda Walenda Darden, who stepped back into the shadows as Flynn strolled past, looking closely at the ship herself. Pitt was up there talking to the first officer
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook and gesturing out to sea. What was Pitt doing? Flynn quickly sized up the remaining ships. There were two merchants, a slew of much smaller craft, and a courier sloop. Flynn made his decision and ran behind Deena to the courier sloop. He strode quickly up the gangplank. “Where is the captain?” “Captain Melquade?” “I must speak to him immediately on urgent business for the Crown.” “He is down below.” “Summon him with all haste, please.” They roused the captain and Flynn met him as he came up from below. “Captain Melquade? Your presence is requested in the Portmaster’s building. The commodore has need of you.” you.” “Thank you,” said the captain, straightening his collar and grabbing his hat. “I’ve been expecting this summons.” He disembarked and Flynn moved onto the next step. “Where is the first mate?” “He is down below.” “Summon him with all haste, please.” They roused the first mate and Flynn met him as he came up from below. below. “I’m special agent Cooper Flynn and I’m assuming command of this vessel in his stead.” “Where is Captain Melquade?” “He has been summoned to see the commodore.” “I’m going to need to see some orders.” Flynn produced his parchment with the Queen’s Writ, his black eyes sparkling. “I believe this will serve.” The officer looked looked it over over.. “What does this mean?” “It means I can do whatever I want to save the world. wor ld.” ” The first officer looked it over and clucked once or twice. Finally, he carefully handed the
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orders back. “Your orders?” Flynn smiled grimly. grimly. “Have you something to write on? Send a runner to the dock quartermaster to procure these things: buckets of pitch, a flint, small arms, and a spool of rope. As soon as he returns, take us out with all speed. We have a pirate fleet to meet.” #
Cooper Flynn? Here? Walenda Darden had thought she was through with him, but he kept coming back, like a bad penny, or flatulation after beans. Darden set her jaw and started making the rounds. It was time to make sure the reappeared Cooper Flynn stayed departed. #
Pitt issued orders to flank the pirate fleet. “We will come in behind them and attack just L’ngrae’ ’ngrae’ss ship. ‘Cut off the head of the snake and the rest will flee.’ flee.’ “ “Captain, the Grand Villainy is larger than we are, and has twice our guns. guns . We have have no practical chance of sinking her.” Pitt said, “We don’t need to sink her, just distract her from her primary target, the naval academy.” “How long do you think we can do that?” Pitt looked at his first. “As long as necessary necessar y.” #
The outlying ships made it easy for the Regal Lady to slip between them and head straight forward toward the Galley Villainy . In fact, as Flynn watched the intricate dance through his spyglass, it seemed that the outliers were instructed not to impede the progress of any ship heading for Galley Villainy. A cloud passed over Flynn’s sunny demeanor.
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook “Make straight toward the largest ship and put on every scrap of cloth you have.” Genning, the First, said, “Ven, it appears that the Regal Lady is is attempting to draw them off.” “And that is exactly why we must get to get there quickly!” “Ven Flynn has a plan?” Flynn fixed him with a wryly sardonic look. “Would we be piling on sail toward a vastly larger 34-gun ship if I didn’t have have a plan?” Genning saluted and gave the order, his face carefully neutral. #
In his warehouse workshop, Chain looked at Rocksie. “Well?” Rocksie’s tail flicked, but she left her head on her paws and watched him idly from her place on the floor. Chain walked to the front of the warehouse and opened both doors. He stepped out onto the docks, licked licked a fingertip to check the wind. He checked the straps, squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and pressed the button on his chest, stepping forward out over the bay. bay. The straps creaked as they absorbed his weight. Rocksie’s ears went up, followed by her head. She rose and padded to the door door.. Chain was floating over the water, his legs dangling beneath him, supported by the leather backpack, his back to her. her. “It works!” he whooped. She cocked her head and raised her ears. Chain jerked his arms to the left, twisting himself around a little. He did that again until until he was roughly facing her her.. “I’m floating. Operational hydro hydro anti-gravity!” He rotated the wheel on his chest marginally to the left and he dropped a foot or so. He twisted it to to the right and started to rise again, going as high as twenty feet before dropping down to dock level. “The “T he selector wheel is working, too! Adjust-
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able anti-gravity!” Rocksie wagged her tail half-heartedly. Chain floated there for a couple of minutes and then he spoke spoke again. again. “Hey “Hey,, Rocksie? Rocksie? I could could really use a rope here.” She stretched and yawned, turned, and padded back into the workshop. #
The Grand Villainy bristled with guns, seventeen to a side, and brimmed with sails. Still, she paid for all that firepower with speed, managing a sluggish six to eight knots at best. Pitt brought the Regal Lady in behind the larger ship, and then tacked to her left rear flank. He gave the order to prepare for battle. Deena. This is for you. They drew up alongside the Grand Villainy . First Mate Tenchiss tried not to appear nervous. “Captain, we don’t have enough guns to sink her with one pass, but she has enough to sink us.” Pitt looked at him impassively. impassively. “I don’t intend to sink her—I intend to get her attention and run away.” “Run, Captain? Away?” “Yes, draw her away from the peninsula, away from the academy.” Tenchiss said nothing more with his mouth, but his expression said plenty. They slid quickly toward the larger pirate ship, drawing alongside. Pitt noticed with a start that L’ngrae himself, with his trademark trademar k blonde braided beard, leaned on the port railing watching them draw even, a pipe in his mouth. L’ngrae threw a mock salute to Pitt and puffed on his pipe. The bastard even looked amused. “Fire,” said Pitt. #
“Where is everyone,” asked Genning, rhetorically.
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook Flynn said, “I can only assume that they’re not paying attention to us because they’re paying attention to someone else on the port side, Captain Pitt, no doubt.” “Who?” “An old friend of mine, mine,” ” said Flynn. “Threw me off a cliff once. Good times.” times.” Genning looked at Flynn, unsure how to take those statements. Flynn smiled and clapped him on his shoulder. shoulder. “Get me over there,” there,” he said. “Closer?” “Of course!” said Flynn, grinning. “How else are we going to get their attention?” Genning nodded to the helmsman, his face troubled. Flynn went forward, gathered some recruits, and explained what they were going to do. He tied a knot in the end of the coil of rope, spooled out a length, and cut the section off. off. He pushed six or eight nails through the coil so the sharp end was out. Then he dipped the knot in tar and set the rope aside. “Give me ten or twelve of these, and make sure that the brazier is close by by. We’r We’re e going to need to work quickly when we’re close enough.” “Close enough for what?” asked a deckhand. “You’ll see,” said Flynn, smiling grimly. #
The Regal Lady ’s ’s six cannon fired in order, one through six, in good military fashion, and Pitt noted with satisfaction that five of six balls found their mark, plowing through rigging, wood, and punching two satisfying holes in the side of the hull.
“Hard a-port!” bellowed Pitt, watching L’ngrae. L’ngrae. The pirate noted the attack with amusement. Then he flipped his pipe over, knocked out the bowl, and blew through the stem to clear it. He straightened and casually raised his left hand. Pitt grimaced in anticipation as his ship heeled frantically to port. All hell rang out from the
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larger ship, the seventeen guns on the port side belching fury and fire. The great lady shuddered and rocked even harder to port as the force of the assault pushed her farther over. over. Pitt saw one crewman disappear in a mist of red. The ship’s ship’s foremast splintered and groaned forward in a tangle of sheets and rope, and Pitt heard the whistle from down below that the hull had been breached and they were taking on water. water. Then, as fast as it started, the volley was over, and the Regal Lady was already listing, dead in the water water.. Pitt surveyed the carnage on-deck, and looked over as the pirate ship drew even again. He expected to see her heave-to to finish the kill, planned on it, really. But she didn’t. He saw a small ship, a nimble sloop, punch through the smoke of the gunfire on the pirate’s starboard side, almost on top of the far larger ship. She maintained a recklessly steep angle, looking almost like she was going to ram L’ngrae. The pirate was watching Pitt’s face, but even the normally stoic Pitt wasn’t able to control his reaction. And so they both looked over at the same time and saw the same thing. There, at the stem of the faster ship, clinging to a rope and hanging out over the edge of the railing, twirling a flaming rope, was a ghost, a smile on his face, long black hair flapping in the wind. It was Cooper Flynn. #
Flynn said, “Now!” and let fly. Fifteen burning ropes flew across the rapidly narrowing expanse between ships and then the sloop heeled over hard to starboard, narrowly missing a collision. The burning ropes slammed into the burdened sails and rigging and started burning.
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook The sloop’s sheets grabbed the wind and she shot away, heading at an angle right toward the peninsula and the naval naval academy academy.. The whole maneuver happened so fast and so unexpectedly that the much larger pirate vessel never fired as much as one cannon. The helmsman said, “Will there be further maneuvering?” Flynn patted him on the shoulder. shoulder. “You did admirably.. Your job is now done. Just hold this admirably course, and the sea will finish the job for us.” If the helmsman had further thoughts on the veracity of that sentiment, he kept them to himself. “Yes, Ven. Ven. Holding course.” course.” Flynn strode to the stern and watched to see the results of their hit-and-run gambit. First Mate Genning joined him there. Genning said, “Captain, she doesn’t seem very wounded by our attack. attack. Shall we put on more sail?” Flynn said, “Less, not more. We didn’t need to wound her, just prick her finger.” Alarmed, Genning said, “Won’t that just make them vexed?” “Very,” said Flynn, beaming, his black eyes sparking, as the Grand Villainy came about and started her grim pursuit. #
Walenda Darden’s Darden’s network was small but b ut very well informed. informed. They were so deep undercover undercover,, however, that even she was surprised by the information she uncovered. The pattern that the facts painted brought a smile to her face. Darden struck off in search of the commodore. #
Pitt set the survivors of the vicious volley to work patching the breached hull and tending the wounded. There was not much else to do at this
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point. The fate of the academy academy was now in the hands of a man he had thought dead. He didn’t have time to think about much more than saving the Regal Lady . However However,, one ironclad realization burned in his breast like redemption. Cooper Flynn was alive. He’d looked looked not just alive, but vibrant, v ibrant, relishing the heat of battle, and the opportunity to surprise a superior enemy with style and cunning. Pitt went back to work with a suddenly light heart, a burden lifted from his shoulders that he had not recognized until just now now,, conspicuous as it was by its absence. #
Flynn led Kzan L’ngrae on a merry chase, staying just ahead of the much larger ship, always working their way closer to the peninsula. The remaining pirate ships flanked the chase but stayed out of the way as directed by L’ngrae’s message flags. They sailed on ahead and made anchor at the mouth of the academy’s harbor to deny access to Flynn there, and otherwise stayed just out of range of of the land-mount land-mounted ed guns. L’ngrae himself stood at the stem of the bristling, smoking beast and chewed his pipe, waiting for Flynn to make even one mistake. For his part, Flynn stood and chatted with the Helmsman and waited for his own opportunity, the only confident one on the entire sloop. They were a bare mile offshore when the Helmsman broached the subject. “Captain, our current course takes us…” Flynn put his finger to his lip. “Yes, Helmsman, I know where it takes us. But more importantly, importantly, I know when.” “When? When what?” Flynn’s eyes sparkled but he said nothing but “Hold your course.” The outlying pirate ships stayed at anchor not half a mile ahead, ahea d, arrayed to trap Flynn before he
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook sailed much farther. Flynn went to the rail and watched intently. The waves were different here, not the deep wells of the ocean. The Helmsman was sweating by this point, but he held his course. Then the waves were calmer and Flynn gave the order. “Heave to and drop anchor,” he said. There was a chorus of alarm but he just grinned the wider and repeated the order slower. The helmsman grimaced outright but obeyed and the sloop wheeled sideways, slipping all her wind and coming to a relative stop. The anchor chain was released and she waited there as the Grand Villainy bore down on them like an avenging spirit. “Captain,” said Genning. “Would you say that I’ve been obedient thus far?” Flynn looked at him mildly. mildly. “Why yes, First, I would.” “Some of the men hope you know what you’re doing,” said Genning politely. Flynn grinned and held out his hand for the spyglass. “ ‘Some of the men’ can can rest easy, easy,” said Flynn watching the larger, slower ship glide right at them, borne on the wings of wind and wickedness. “I’ve sailed these waters waters plenty by now, now, and I know that this is just a few hours past high tide.” “Ven?” Flynn kept his gaze on the approaching ship, L’ngrae’s eager face clearly visible now in the spyglass. He had a party of armed men with him and Flynn could see grappling hooks coiled on the deck. “I know that this pirate L’ngrae L’ngrae means to board us himself instead of fire on us. I know that he means to make this a personal statement—he means this battle to be a message to every ship in the area, a defiant proclamation to the academy, and a bold claim to ownership of these waters.” Flynn dropped the spyglass and looked First Mate Genning in the eye. eye. “But I know one thing
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L’ngrae doesn’t.” “What is that?” asked Genning. Flynn put the spyglass up to his eye and grinned. He watched the Grand Villainy grow large in his view piece. He watched as L’ngrae L’ngrae brandished a sword with a jewel-encrusted hilt and gesture toward his sloop. And he watched as the Grand Villainy suddenly ground to a halt on the concealed reef, throwing L’ngrae into the forward rail, loosening his grip on his fancy sword as it and a number of crewmen fell overboard into the shallow surf. Flynn handed the glass to Genning. “Raise anchor,” he said, and went to the helmsman to tell him what they would do next. #
It took a couple of days to sort out the fallout, but the primary message was clear enough; the academy was saved from assault without a single shot being fired on the peninsula’s fortifications, and without a single pirate from the fleet setting foot on land. The report was highly classified, but the news swept the entire peninsula as only carefully guarded secrets can. The outlying pirate ships flocked around and divvied up a furious L’ngrae and his crew as they abandoned the thoroughly beached Grand Villainy . She would be retrieved and returned to Her Majesty’s fleet, and L’ngrae’s dreams of dominance in the region were shattered. shattered. When word of the method of his defeat raced through the region, his reputation took enough of a hit that he departed and sailed off for unknown waters, accompanied by a skeleton crew after the majority defected or died in an abortive mutiny attempt. Such was the value of reputation that there was no larger feather than an audacious victory, and no worse millstone around one’s neck than ignominious defeat. Back that the peninsula, impromptu celebra-
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook tions broke out on both sides of the academy walls, and a special assembly was called the night the returning academy fleet arrived back in port, and reported that the last vestige of the oncemighty pirate fleet was completely gone from local waters. Tents were set up around the perimeter of the commons, featuring delicacies from all over the region. Pigs were roasting at various places around the commons. A large bonfire behind the platform cast warm light over the faces of those assembled. ‘Captains’ Pitt and Flynn were brought up on the platform, and a brass band played merry tunes in the courtyard. The commodore welcomed the heroes warmly and Deena stood beside Pitt, her arm through his. For his part, Pitt looked truly at peace for the first time since Flynn had met him. On seeing Flynn at the docks, Pitt had started to speak but Flynn just shook his friend’s hand, clapped him on the arm, grimaced in pain, and then said all was good, and that they’d talk later. Just before the commodore started the festivities, a figure called from behind the platform. He went over and squatted down. They spoke in low tones and he looked looked back at Flynn in alarm. Flynn caught the glance and looked looked past him. He saw Walenda Darden’s face retreat, smiling wolfishly, into the shadows. A shadow of doubt flitted over Flynn’s face, and then the commodore stepped forward and addressed the crowd. “We have survived the greatest threat to the academy in decades, and this celebration is called calle d to honor the heroes of the day day.. Cadets Pitt and Flynn, step forward. While the pirate fleet sailed toward our shores in the absence of the academy fleet, these cadets took charge of two remaining vessels and, working together, executed executed a brilliant plan that resulted in antagonizing and ultimately baiting the pirate captain, L’ngrae, into running his ship aground on the reef offshore.
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For your initiative in our darkest hour, you are both awarded the Order of Merit, the highest academy medal.” medal.” The crowd erupted in clapping and cheers. The commodore accepted the medals from his aide and pinned them to their uniforms, saluting them each in turn. He turned back to the audience. “In addition, I have authority from Her Majesty to award the Star of Haddirron to Cooper Flynn for service above and beyond in behalf of the monarchy.” He stepped in front of Flynn, and Deena stepped forward bearing a velvet pillow on which rested a purple ribbon shot through with gold thread and a large emblem. The commodore nodded to Deena with a private wink while his back was turned to the crowd. He picked picked up the ribbon and Flynn, stunned, bowed his head. Commodore Dondely stepped close and placed the ribbon over Flynn’s head and the heavy gold star fell into place against Flynn’s chest. He lifted his head and returned the commodore’s salute, a proud tear in his eye. Then the commodore stepped forward and spoke close to Flynn’s ear ear.. Flynn’s expression became guarded, and, for lack of a better term, the old Flynn returned. A calculating look crossed his face and he answered the commodore’s question. The commodore nodded once, and then, inexplicably, hugged Flynn. The commodore returned to the podium. “Haddirron Naval Academy, I present Cadets Pitt and Flynn!” The crowd roared even louder and the commodore stepped aside to let the crowd have a long look at their heroes. Pitt stood at parade rest as the adulation of the crowd washed over him, a neutral look on his face, and utter peace radiating from his demeanor. Flynn worked the crowd, looking around at those assembled, acknowledging people he knew with a wink or a nod, but somehow holding
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook something of himself aside, in a way as mysterious as ever. A movement over to the side of the platform caused Flynn to glance over. over. He saw the Officer of the Guard standing standing by a group of people. Flynn recognized them all, from various instructors, to Chain, to his various contacts. It was as if his entire information network was standing there just off off to the side side of the platform. platform. The last one he saw was Petty Officer Baskins, staring hate at him, the light of the bonfire reflecting in his eyes looking like the fire was coming from inside. Baskins smiled grimly, grimly, like a barracuda circling for the kill. With a stony face, Flynn looked back to the commodore, who looked strangely stricken. The commodore regarded Flynn and waited. Flynn steeled himself and nodded, once. The commodore breathed a heavy sigh, and motioned the crowd to subside. “We have enjoyed a time of historic celebration, and I wish we could leave it at that,” he said, “but there is more. Cooper Flynn, front and center!” center!” Flynn came to attention and stepped forward. “Are you prepared to answer for your behavior beh avior here at the academy?” “Yes, commodore,” commodore,” barked bar ked Flynn, firmly fi rmly.. The commodore took a deep breath. “This court-martial now comes to order order..” You could have heard a spanner drop. The only sound was the crack and pop of the bonfire behind them as a decorated hero’s naval career went up in smoke. #
Commodore Dondely addressed a crowd stunned into silence with the flames of righteousness and military convention burning furiously, dispassionately, behind him. “One accusation does not unmake a career, however, a history of law-breaking has been revealed going back to the very beginning of o f cadet
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Flynn’s career here. Starting with this recent victory, is it true that you commandeered a vessel under false pretenses and without authority?” Flynn said, “Yes, Commodore.” The list became a litany, Flynn answering in the affirmative to each charge. “Is it true that you resided with lighthouse keeper Posgor under false pretenses? pretenses? Is it true that you were involved in the clandestine investigation and harassment of fellow cadets? Is it true that you were accused of these various crimes and betrayals and were summarily thrown off a cliff? Is it true that you stole personal items from fellow cadets? Is it true that you faked your own death threat? That you manipulated the schedule and played instructors off against each other to completely skip all classroom activity? That you romanced one cadet while having feelings for another? That you helped your your roommate roommate cheat on class assignments? That you you regularly, regularly, nay, daily, escaped academy grounds for your purposes? That you used academy resources for personal scientific experiments, planning on keeping these discoveries to yourself? That you you claim to have in your possession a copy of the fabled stolen Queen’s Writ? That you gained access to these grounds in the first place by a ruse perpetrated on our venerable officer of admissions?” “Yes, Commodore; yes to these charges, and many others that you are not even now aware.” The commodore gripped the lectern with shaking hands. “It is true that some of your activities can be construed as noble, however, this litany of disregard for authority and chain of command, this pattern of self-serving falsehood and manipulation, cannot be ignored. “Cadet Flynn, you have given the academy its greatest victory, and for that, we thank you. But despite your obvious successes, this pattern of reckless disregard cannot and will not be tolerated. The joy of victory is buried beneath
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook a mountain of self-serving reserve and a career based on one lie after another. another. As the ancient writer observed, ‘one more such victory will be the end of us all’.” Deena was weeping openly by this point and holding Pitt’s arm, who for his part, had clenched his jaw so tightly that sweat stood out on his face. The commodore looked long and hard at Flynn, and then smiled grimly. grimly. He returned his view to the crowd. “The person who uncovered this pattern is cadet Walenda Walenda Darden. Cadet Darden, please ascend the platform.” Darden marched smartly up the steps past Flynn and came to attention in front of the commodore. They exchanged salutes. “Cadet Darden, it is my pleasure to reward your vigilant investigation with a full promotion to a first lieutenant in Her Majesty’s navy.” Darden struggled to maintain a neutral expression, but a smile peeked out behind her resolve. The commodore continued. “This commission carries with it a salary commensurate with your rank and early discharge from this academy. A courier sloop stands ready to escort es cort you to your first assignment. Congratulations, Lieutenant Darden. You are now the first female officer to take up residence at a most important post, the storied abbey at Patience Bay Bay..” The commodore brought his arm up to salute, but Darden was frozen in shock. She looked the commodore in the eye and saw such grim determination and humor there that the full realization hit her while she was summoning a hasty salute. The commodore kept her at salute for a full minute as the crowd supplied a stilted applause that rang hollow in her ear. The commodore released his salute. “Officer of the Guard! Have Lieutenant Darden escorted to her ship.” Darden turned and glared at Flynn, who kept his eyes front. She turned to go, go, but not before
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she saw a most impudent wink. A guard came and took her elbow and she was removed from the stage. The commodore stepped over to Flynn one last time and whispered. “How was that?” “Inspired, Commodore.” “Perhaps you should give her the Jodkins,” suggested the commodore with a wink of his own. “It sounds like she’ll have plenty of opportunity to become acquainted with the t he classics, Ven, Ven,” ” observed Flynn. “You may be sure of that,” said the commodore. “A lifetime, in fact.” Cooper Flynn grinned despite himself. The commodore said, “Are you ready for this?” Flynn’s smile drifted away. away. “I am your servant,” he said. The commodore nodded and returned to his podium. The gravitas of the moment fell fell again as thick as night. Commodore Dondely cleared his throat. “Cadet Flynn, it is my my observation as administrator of this academy and representative of Her Majesty’s government that your actions, while sometimes commendable, demonstrate a prevalent pattern of recklessness and personal agenda over and above any posture of ‘service’. Therefore, it is my judgment that you be stripped of your rank and your commission. Your tenure here is hereby null and void. You are hereby expelled from this academy and removed from Her Majesty’s navy..” “Cadets, about face!” The assembled cadets came to hasty attention and spun in place, facing the opposite direction, their backs to the platform. The only sounds were the open weeping from Deena and the roaring of the flames. “Officer of the Guard, escort this civilian off academy grounds. May Cyl have mercy on your soul.” Flynn made to salute, but the commodore just
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Serial: The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, One More Such Victory, by Johne Cook looked at him in stony silence, and then turned his own back. “You can keep your Cyl to yourself,” said Flynn, his eyes flashing dangerously, blacker, somehow, than the night. The commodore flinched slightly. slightly. The Officer of the Guard came and stood at Flynn’s elbow. elbow. Flynn reached up and slowly unbuttoned the collar of his uniform. He continued continued undoing buttons until the jacket was open. He shrugged it off his shoulders, letting it fall with a thud to the wood platform, his Order of Merit medal jangling harshly at the collision. Deena jerked at the sound. Flynn reached up and removed the Star of Haddiron and carefully folded it back up the way it had been, stooped, and replaced it on the velvet pillow by Deena. Then he squared his shoulders and was escorted off the platform and out into the commons. He walked briskly to the arching black tunnel leading to the gates and was swallowed up into the darkness.
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Johne Cook Johne Cook is a Technical Technical Writer Writer and a long-me space opera fan. Johne is an Overlor Overlord d (Co-founder and Editor) Editor) of Ray Gun Revival magazine.
Look forward to Chapter 12, the last chapter of Season One of The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, coming up in Issue 24, June 15, 2007
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Memory Memo ry Wipe
Brief mild adventure language - PG
Chapter 11: The Waste by Sean T. M. Stiennon The Story so Far: Three years ago, Takeda Croster woke up in the city of Greendome on 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, and lightning-fast reflexes. He seriously injured both cops. Strange dreams and a feeling of great exhaustion followed the encounter. Now, Takeda travels with the Lithrallian hunter Zartsi, who saved his life after he fled into the jungles of Belar, and the Vitai Rover Esheera Nii, who granted them passage for nothing more than a little money and their life stories. Now, after an orbital attack by the alien assassin Lashiir, the three are stranded on the surface of Nihil, over a hundred miles away from the colony town, Hope’s End. There, Takeda hopes to find answers from a man named Cramer Orano...if he can survive one of the galaxy’s harshest deserts.
F
ifty kilos of water and twenty more of dry food crushed Takeda downwards, towards the baked soil below him. Even with all that weight, combined with that of his pistol, a full load of bullets, and other small pieces of gear, the ground hardly yielded to his shoes. The soil felt like heated stone. At first he volunteered to carry almost twice as much as Esheera and twenty kilos more than
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Zartsi. He had been able to summon enough of his enhanced strength to make carrying it all strenuous, but not crushing. He remained strong for the first two hours of walking, striding beside Esheera and keeping his back straight. But his strength began to fade, leaving him exhausted and overburdened, with sweat soaking his shirt, pants, and the bandana and scarf shielding his skin from the crimson sun. He had collapsed to his knees a half-hour later, scraping them against the hard ground. They all had a drink from one of his bottles. Then Zartsi took a substantial portion of what remained, leaving him with a slightly larger load than Takeda’s. They continued on. The daggerpointed mountains and the battered wreck of the t he Ixlu Seer slowly sank over the horizon, receding farther back with every step. Esheera hadn’t glanced over her shoulder once since leaving it. The Vitai didn’t have tear glands, but Takeda could see the pain in her eyes. The Seer had been everything to her—her home, her livelihood, her most prized possession, a constant reminder of her people’s legacy. And now she had lost it and everything it carried except for her weapons, a few pieces of clothing, and a few small articles. Her wingwire had been sucked out into the vacuum along with everything else. She couldn’t have carried it anyway. She kept supplies of emergency food and water stowed behind the Seer ’s ’s bulkheads, and they needed every bit of strength to carry as much of it as possible. Besides that, they had taken nothing but weapons and minimal survival gear.
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Serial: Memory Wipe, The Waste, by Sean T. M. Sennon The molten red sun was halfway down the deep blue dome of the sky, but, if anything, it seemed to have grown hotter as they marched. Esheera walked in front. A pair of boots covered her feet, and she wore a woven poncho large enough to shield her arms and head from the sun. Zartsi followed at an easy stride, wearing a cape he had improvised from a spare hammock. Takeda struggled to keep up with them— perhaps the two weeks of travel made him soft. He kept his eyes on the ground, watching his feet rise and fall, step by step. Dust rose in slow curls from every shallow print. The air was painful to breathe—it burnt his lungs and scraped his throat raw. Esheera said nothing. Sometimes Takeda thought he could hear Zartsi mutter something under his breath, but it was too soft to even tell if it was Imperish or Lithrallian. The silence of the desert was so oppressive that Takeda was tempted to talk to himself just to break it. Even when they stopped at regular intervals to suck water through cracked lips, hot silence covered everything. Bit by bit, the sun rolled down, and their shadows stretched towards the horizon. The sun, red even at noon, darkened to a deep, rusty color as it set. The opposite end of the sky was black before it had gone down completely. Streaks of smoldering scarlet and dark gold stained the sky. The sunset was beautiful, but somehow it gave Takeda the feeling that humans had never been meant to see it except through glass. Nihil lacked moons. The rising night sky was scored with thousands of stars, more than Takeda Takeda had ever seen before, glimmering like points of polished steel. The sweep of the galaxy was brighter than it had ever been on Belar, like a rift of light in the sky. “Drink,” Esheera called, as the last hints of deep red vanished from the horizon. “Just a few swallows.”
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Takeda stopped and pulled a bottle from the harness on his back. A cold wind had begun to blow across the plain, and he found himself shivering as he massaged his burning legs with one hand. His entire body ached. He wanted nothing more than to sleep. He tried to speak, but the words dissolved into a croak. Takeda brought the bottle to his lips and took one, two, three swallows. It was a struggle not to gulp the whole bottle, but he screwed the cap on and put it back. “Are we stopping?” Esheera replaced her own bottle and shook her head. “Nope. We go through the night.” Zartsi was turned away, staring up at the stars with his arms crossed over his chest. “Rover is right,” he said, as if he felt Takeda’s gaze on him. “No rest?” “Look at it this way way,, Tak,” Tak,” she said. s aid. “I’m honestly honest ly surprised we haven’t seen our Clordite friend yet. I don’t peg him as the type to assume we’re dead without checking. Unless that Hellraiser shot him down, and I don’t believe that either.” Takeda shivered from more than the cold. “You think he’ll be able to find us?” “The odds of it go down the farther we get from the wreck. But he’ll know we’re heading for Hope’s End.” She grunted. “Eat something, Tak. We’ll rest for a few minutes. But if you think it’s hard now, it’ll only get harder. Might as well get a night behind us while we’re fresh.” Takeda let his legs collapse beneath him. He slumped down onto the hard ground, still warm with the day’s scorching heat, and slid his pack pac k off his shoulders. Water sloshed as it clattered to the ground. He used the pack as a hard pillow while he stretched out his legs and back. Now, he felt grateful for the ground’s lingering warmth. His joints burned and his his muscles muscles ached. ached. He shivered in the wind. Zartsi thunked his pack down beside Takeda
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Serial: Memory Wipe, The Waste, by Sean T. M. Sennon and joined him on the ground. Takeda turned his head to see the Lithrallian’s snout silhouetted against the stars. “Tired, Takeda?” he asked. A flash of guilt pierced Takeda. Zartsi’s burden was even heavier than his, and the light of the stars was enough for Takeda to see a faint sheen of sweat on his friend’s scales. “I’ll be all right,” he answered. “Good.” Zartsi pulled out a couple ration bars—compact mixtures of nuts, dried meat, grain, and fat which packed five hundred calories and were as hard as rock. Takeda took one. Every bite required thirty seconds of chewing. “Do you think he’ll find us?” Takeda asked. “He will,” Zartsi said. “But pray not in the open desert.” Esheera called them back to their feet after a few minutes, and they continued on beneath the stark light of the stars. Every moment Takeda worried he would see a black shadow fly overhead and hear the thrum of Lashiir’s engines for a few seconds before he incinerated all three of them. #
Lashiir had always been tempted to consider humans a weak species, and frequent evidence gave the urge strength. Rarely in his years on Freedan had any target given him a challenge. Some had been reasonably proficient with a gun or a knife, but they hadn’t understood the way of the hunt. Many had begged for their lives while Tsiika’s cold edge touched their thought. Lashiir remembered tears, bribes, appeals to the sadness their women would feel. One had tried to offer him drugs. Every one had met the same fate. But Lashiir knew humans had strength and ingenuity. John and Thomas, along with the others he had trained over the years, gave witness to that. He should have learned not to underestimate them.
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But Despair had had sat for hours in empty space, its sensors scrambled by a device little bigger than a human motorbike. Lashiir had thought it was nothing more than a torpedo, bomb, or even escape pod before it began transmitting. He had managed to keep his weapons and some maneuvering capability, but by the time he had coaxed Despair into full functionality, the new ship had vanished from space. Anger smoldered in his hearts, an anger he struggled to keep in check. Underestimation had cost him victory. Not only that, but it had been hours before Despair ’s ’s systems had been in good enough condition for him to trust the ship with an atmospheric entry. Now, he soared over vast, empty deserts lit only by starlight. He flew high up to avoid disturbing the ground with his wake. Despair ’s ’s sensors swept across the sand below bel ow,, seeking any signs of warm bodies, but so far they had found nothing more than a small pack of apparently herbivorous creatures and one massive heat signature buried several feet below the sand. He had found the wreck of the Rover’s ship after darkness, and sent Thomas and Heziah down to investigate it. They had found nothing, and any signs of what direction the three had taken were lost to the wind. There had been no signs of burial, though—no recently disturbed soil or piled stones. Almost certainly, all three had survived the crash. Lashiir had located the human settlement and plotted three likely routes to it: one following the narrow spine of rock the ship had crashed against, a gainst, another crossing those mountains and proceeding on the opposite side of them to a northern crossing point, approaching the settlement from the west, or a trek taken along the straightest line connecting the two points. But there were uncertainties: many other variations presented themselves, some adding or subtracting a few miles, others making for lengthy detours. He
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Serial: Memory Wipe, The Waste, by Sean T. M. Sennon didn’t know how accurately the Rover could plot the location of the settlement, or whether she could read Nihil’s sky. Even if he flew over them, he couldn’t be certain if Despair ’s ’s sensors would register them, particularly not during the day when body heat faded into the burning light of the sun. And there was a great deal of desert to cover. Keeping his anger from spilling over into his actions took as much of Lashiir’s will as it ever had. #
The night passed in a haze of exhaustion, cold, pain, and thirst. Takeda’s injuries from the crash pulsated with every step. His legs felt like logs crudely screwed together and his teeth clattered together in his mouth. Every few minutes he spat blood onto the sand. God knew where it came from. Probably his lungs. The temptation to drain liter after liter of water was constant. Even in the cold he dreamed of water, water, dreamed of oceans and rivers, dreamed of the endless drinks he had watched being served at the Silver Sun. But he knew Esheera was watching him—she glanced back over her shoulder frequently—and he didn’t want her to see him drinking without her orders. She also watched how much he drank, and so did Zartsi. Once the Lithrallian grabbed the bottle out of his hand, screwed the top back on, and stuffed st uffed it back into Takeda’s pack, all without saying a word. Takeda would have been angry if he had the energy—and if he hadn’t noticed that they were watching each other, too. The night seemed to go on forever. Takeda struggled to think about something besides his pain and thirst. Sometimes he looked up at the stars, tracing constellations which he forgot seconds later. later. Sometimes he felt his boots crunch on the ground and looked down to see dark leaves spread on the rock, but he was too tired to think
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much of it. Nocturnal plants, he guessed. At last the eastern horizon began to smolder with dim red light as the sun rolled back up from the planet’s other side. Takeda felt a strange mixture of dread and relief as it rose—relief that Esheera might finally let him stop, dread of the heat, sweat, and even greater thirst it would bring. bring . He watched its disk turn from deepest red to a brighter scarlet as it ascended the sky’s shadowy expanse. The spray of stars gradually faded. “Esh,” he croaked. “Stop?” She loped on for another ten feet, and a nd Takeda Takeda was just gathering his strength for another attempt when she answered, “We’ll hit those mountains first. Don’t drop on me.” Takeda blinked. He saw a shark-toothed line of black silhouetted against the sun and wondered how far they had come. Farther than he had thought. But those mountains must still be... miles off. Takeda couldn’t think out any more precise distance, and he didn’t have the strength to continue his conversation with Esheera. He croaked one word: “Water?” She nodded. “Three.” Zartsi watched him as he took three precise swallows, barely wetting his throat, and replaced the bottle reluctantly. It was nearly empty empty.. Esheera and Zartsi did the same a few seconds later, and they continued on, their pace much slower than the previous day day.. Takeda Takeda saw that even Zartsi was strained. More hours passed. Takeda felt comfortably warm for a few precious minutes as the sun warmed the cool night air, but temperatures continued to rise, and soon his joints were gummy from sweat. Yesterday he had hoped he would get used to the heat. During the night he had almost hoped for it. Now, it seemed to cook his mind along with his body. He barely noticed the mountains slowly growing larger and larger. He only noticed their proximity when he stepped into their shadows
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Serial: Memory Wipe, The Waste, by Sean T. M. Sennon and realized he had closed his eyes. He looked up. These mountains were almost identical to the range they had left behind—mounds of loose rocks at the base, which faded into bluffs and ridges of wind-smoothed stone. Knife-pointed peaks rose high above them. Small mountains—a few hundred feet high at most. But the thought of crossing them made Takeda want to lie down and let the desert have him. “Get up the slope,” Esheera said. “Find a niche.” He obeyed because he didn’t have the energy to argue. Climbing loose rock, rough and covered with brown dust, was a new form of hell, especially with his pack weighing him down. More than once he almost toppled back down the slope or accidentally smashed his head against a rock. Zartsi caught him twice. The Lithrallian climbed beside him, guiding his hands, keeping him safe. Esheera found the easiest path. He collapsed in the shade of a hard-edged crevasse in the mountainside, his back pressed against hot stone. He barely had the strength to drink before he collapsed into a half-unconscious sleep. #
The sun’s light had darkened when he woke, slanting through the crevasse in red streaks. Takeda gasped when he tried to move. His joints and muscles had stiffened. He bent his head and could almost feel his spine creak. He heard a voice, “Catch.” Takeda got his hands up just in time to intercept the water bottle she tossed. Esheera didn’t say anything, so he took five swallows of the warm liquid before lowering it. He looked around. High walls of dark rock rose above them on both sides, their surfaces carved in gentle contours. About twelve feet separated the walls, and the floor was uneven and covered with dust and grit. It extended into the shadows on Takeda’s left, and
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he could see the flat desert to his right. “Zartsi?” he asked. “Scouting. He volunteered, so don’t cry to me if he cracks his head open somewhere.” Takeda shook his head. “When...do we keep going?” “When he gets back, I’ll give him another hour, then we’re going. It’s been six hours since we stopped.” “Not enough. enoug h.” ” She shook her head. Dust rose from her knotted hair. “We’re still at least a hundred miles out from Hope’s End. When night falls I’m going to move whether Zartsi’s here or not.” Takeda tried to rub the dust away from his eyes and regretted it. His hands were covered too. “Leave him behind?” Anger laced her response. “I’ve lost my ship, Takeda. I want to live to buy a new one.” He slumped back against the wall and pulled a ration bar from his pack. Esheera had shut her eyes and was using her wing-flaps like a blanket, wrapping her torso in them. Takeda chewed. The thought of walking again was oppressive, and sweat glistened on his skin. Even this crevasse was hot. He felt the heat of the rock through his pants. “Sorry, Tak,” Tak,” Esheera whispered w hispered gently gently.. He swallowed a heavy bite. “What?” “I shouldn’t be getting getting pissed at you. you. And I wouldn’t want to leave Zartsi behind any more than you. He was the one who told me to walk at nightfall if he didn’t show his scales.” “So we’re sticking with nights?” Esheera shook her head. “I’m not sure. It might actually be harder for Lashiir to find us during the day, what with everything being at least as hot as our bodies. But given what tramps the dunes at night, I’d rather be on my feet with my hotchoker close after dark. And we’ll sweat less. Need less water.” Takeda felt the bottles in his pack. There were
Issue 22, May 15, 2007
Serial: Memory Wipe, The Waste, by Sean T. M. Sennon plenty left, but he had probably drunk at least five kilos of water. Esheera and Zartsi had taken just as much. much. Zartsi returned some time later. His chest heaved and his scales were pale with milky milk y Lithrallian sweat, but he spoke evenly. “Couple hours over mountains,” he hissed, “with dunes after.” The sun’s rays rays had darkened to a deep crimson crimso n glow, filtered through the desert’s dust. Takeda guessed that less than two hours of daylight remained. “We’ll walk through the night?” “That is best, Takeda.” He felt a shudder run over his skin despite the heat. “Walking Evils hunt at night. I read that somewhere.” “True,” Zartsi said. “Better to be on feet than sleeping if one walks.” “Agreed,” Esheera said, her voice still hoarse. She had cleaned her hotchoker, making sure the fuel canal was free of dust, but now she picked it up and stuffed it back into its harness. harness . “You found found a path?” “Yes. Saw the dunes.” “Then let’s get moving.” The pain of standing, of moving his legs, was intense, but Takeda Takeda ignored it. He had to ignore it, pretend that it didn’t exist. It didn’t really matter anyway. He could either walk or die. #
They crested the mountains as the sun sank towards the western horizon. The peaks cast long shadows over an ocean of pale sand that stretched to the eastern blackness. The sand was gently rippled—no large dunes—but he thought he could see dark blotches on its surface: sur face: nocturnal plants whose leaves withdrew underground during the hottest hours of the day. Takeda’s palms were scraped raw from climbing up loose scree and ridges of saw-edged stone, his knees were battered beneath the fabric of his dust and sweat-caked pants, and his
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eyes burned. His companions were little better off—one of Esheera’s wing flaps had a three-inch tear that leaked blood and fluid, and a patch of scales had been torn away from Zartsi’s head, showing red flesh beneath. He kept his wounded eye half-closed. They descended slowly and painfully in the shadows. A wind blew into their faces from the dunes. Zartsi led them along a path he had mapped out earlier in the day. Esheera paused suddenly as they descended a slope of jagged boulders. Takeda saw her ears tilt upwards in the dim light, and her dark eyes widened slightly. “What is it?” he asked. Zartsi halted his descent and turned to Esheera, having to rotate his head to bring his good eye to bear. “Quiet,” she answered. Takeda had time to inhale and exhale three times before he heard her hiss, “Hide. Anywhere. Just get out of the open, fast.” Zartsi started to say something. She cut him off.. “A off “A ship, damn it!” Takeda strained his vision and felt his power come. His eyes penetrated the darkness, searching for anywhere they could hide. There was only one ship that might be doing fly-overs of this barren desert. “There,” he called to his companions, pointing towards a broad overhang of stone with a twofoot hollow beneath it. Zartsi bounded towards it, leaping over rocks, and Esheera Es heera ran at Takeda’s Takeda’s side. They scrambled in, bellies scraping in the dust. There was barely room for the three of them and their packs. He smelled Esheera’ Esh eera’ss warm musk and felt Zartsi’s breath on his face. “Can’t hear it,” Zartsi whispered. “Vitai can’t outfight you but we can outhear you. It’s high. Almost too high for me.” Takeda reached for his power again, struggling str uggling to enhance his hearing. He succeeded well enough
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Serial: Memory Wipe, The Waste, by Sean T. M. Sennon to hear a faint whine so indistinct he might have been imagining it. The noise approached rapidly. Takeda wondered how good Lashiir’s sensors were. The ship passed overhead, a shadow of deepest black against the stars, and continued out across the dunes. It had no engine flare, but the air behind it was distorted into a haze of light and dark. It traveled quickly and vanished into the night. Esheera squirmed out first. “Let’s keep moving.” #
Ten days earlier, on Freedan... Doctor Lawrence Beinnen shut the door to his office and locked it behind him. He glanced at his watch—10:16 p.m. Matilda had left over three hours ago, officially closing the office for the day, but he had stayed on, seated behind his desk with a stack of papers. At first he had done useful us eful work, analyzing data he had on a couple tricky patients, preparing for tomorrow’s appointments, catching up on the journals. But then he had reached for a file that had been on his mind for days. The data on Takeda Croster, which he had kept in the back of his cabinet, labeled with a red tag. And he had spent two hours poring over it. The dour, dark-skinned dark-skinned man had come in asking for a routine physical examination. Beinnen had never seen him before, but he had no objection to treating walk-ins—he made most of his living with them. He had thought it would be quick and painless, the usual tests followed by recommendations for better health, maybe a prescription prescri ption for something or other. Cholesterol meds, maybe. But, instead, he had discovered that Croster wasn’t quite human. He had organs, bone structures, and vessels no human did. Beinnen hadn’t seen anything like it in a lifetime of medical education and practice. Croster had reacted,
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yes, but not as dramatically as Beinnen would have expected. He had already known there was something unusual about himself. It was why he had asked for an exam. Beinnen walked down the hall and took a lift to street level. The clouds broke just as he pushed the building’s building ’s door open. He buttoned up his jacket and strode out onto the dark sidewalks. Ahead of him, a couple men in dull yellow overcoats were chatting casually, haloed in the glow of a streetlamp. Beinnen crossed the street and walked briskly towards his apartment, three blocks east. Croster had left and passed out of Beinnen’s life. But he hadn’t been able to get his mind off the incident. His old partner Cramer had seen something like it before. Cramer, with his nightmares and his drinking. More than once Beinnen had considered trying to get in touch with him on Nihil, but last he heard, Nihil didn’t have an interstellar array set up. They were isolated except for the usual cargo ships and anyone crazy enough to fly out there. Poring over the data he had collected on Croster hadn’t helped matters. He had gleaned more details, certainly, and made some connections he hadn’t before. But there was still nothing to tell him where it had all came from. Croster wasn’t sick. Cramer climbed the stairs up to the fifth floor, pulled out his keys, and unlocked number 23B. He hung his jacket on its hook, crossed a room carpeted in dull red, and sank down in his faux-leather armchair. A glass of water from that morning sat on the coffee table. He drank it. He had found hints of one thing, something that disturbed him more than anything else. There was evidence that Croster had undergone surgery so extensive it made Beinnen’s Be innen’s mind whirl. They’d have had to slice open every inch of skin, do horrific muscle reconstruction, and perfectly integrate entirely new organs into the man’s body. body.
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Serial: Memory Wipe, The Waste, by Sean T. M. Sennon Beinnen didn’t think the medical technology that would allow such procedures even existed. Not on any world he knew. He realized that he hadn’t eaten since noon and went to his kitchenette. There were some hamburger patties in the fridge. A good cheeseburger might get his mind off everything. He was busy cooking it when he heard the door open. For an instant, he didn’t think much of it—just his wife coming home after a late night at her office. But no. Janet had died two years ago. Beinnen held his breath and listened. He could faintly hear two pairs of shoes coming down the hall, walking softly. Burglars? No—they would have known someone was home. He left his hamburger on the range and stepped out into the living room. Two men faced him, dressed in matching, dull yellow coats. They had been on the sidewalk outside his clinic. Both towered above Beinnen, with broad shoulders and square chins. One had a thin, dark beard that looked like it had been drawn on his face with a pencil. The other had blond hair buzzed close to his scalp. “Get out,” Beinnen growled. Both ignored the command. “You are Lawrence Beinnen,” the blond one said. His eyes were the color of slate. “I am. What do you want?” Beinnen had a gun in a locked box on the windowsill. The men blocked his path to it. One man scratched his beard lazily and said, s aid, “You treated a man calling himself Takeda Croster.” “I did. Why? Are you police?” Again, the men ignored him. “Where are your records?” “At my office. Look, maybe I forgot to lock the door, but I want both of you out. Now. Come to my clinic tomorrow, and we’ll talk it over.” The blonde one took a step forward. “We aren’t police,” he said, “but we’ve been looking for Takeda for a very long time. You’ve examined
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him, so I’m sure you have some idea why.” He removed his hand from his pocket and tugged off a tight black glove. He reached for Beinnen, expressionlessly. That hand was immaculately clean, with a gold bracelet around the wrist. Beinnen stepped back. He felt his heart pound, and the words stuck in his throat. “What do you want from me?” he shouted. “Nothing,” the man said. He smiled faintly, flexing his fingers. “Nothing at all.” Beinnen stepped back and heard the hamburger sizzling behind him. He reached behind himself and grabbed the handle. The pan was made of heavy stainless steel. Beinnen swung it at the blond man’s face, splattering the floor with hot grease. The man’s eyes remained locked on Beinnen. There was a clang. A curved blade colored something halfway between bone and slate gray had exploded from the man’s arm, blocking the pan and slicing through the sleeve of his coat. Beinnen stared. It was identical to a structure from his images of Croster’s forearm. The pan dropped from his limp fingers. “Goodnight, Lawrence,” the man said, reaching out his bare palm. The last things Beinnen experienced were a flash of blue light and a sensation of intense heat before his soul departed and his corpse slumped to the tiles. #
Five-Five watched the smoking ruin of the doctor’’s skull thump against the floor as he pulled doctor the glove back onto his hand. “Will there be anyone at the clinic?” he asked Four-Two-Six. “No,” Four-Two-Six said. “There’s a female secretary, but she left before he did.” “Good. We’ll go now.”
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Serial: Memory Wipe, The Waste, by Sean T. M. Sennon Five-Five pulled shelves out of the doctor’ doctor’ss refrigerator and stuffed his body into it. That would keep it from stinking and hopefully increase the time before the corpse was found. Not that it particularly mattered, but his training had taught him to keep his business clean. Four-Two-Six Four-Tw o-Six fused the apartment door shut behind them, and they left the building together.
Next month... Chapter 12: Ghost Town
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Sean T. M. M . Stiennon Sean is an author of fantasy and science con novels and short stories, with many publica ons under his belt. His rst short story collec recently ly releas released ed on, Six with Flinteye , was recent from Silver Lake Publis Publishing, hing, and he won 2nd place in both the 2004 SFRead SFReader er.com .com Short Story Contest and the Storn Cook Razor-Edged Ficon Contest with his stories “ Asp Asp” and “ The The Sultan’s Well ,” ,” respecve respecvely ly.. “ The The Sultan’ Sult an’ss 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 ), Blademaster (“ Asp Asp ,” 2nd place winner in the 2004 SFReader.com Contest ), and others who have yet to see publicaon. Sean loves to read fantasy and science c on 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 of Albion trilogy, and King Solomon’s Mines by H. Rider Haggard. He has reviewed books for Deep Magic: The E-zine of High Fan reviews tasy and Science Ficon , and currently reviews books at SFReader.com.
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The RGR Time Capsule: Jolly RGR
May 01 - May 14, 2007 Sci-Fi news from the past two weeks in the Ray Gun Revival forums forums
RGR Date: May 03, 03, 2007 20 07 Science con becomes science fact: Luke Skywalker’s
arm http://raygunrevival.com/Forum/viewtopic.php?t=1073
RGR Date: May 10, 2007
Sizzling Hot Planet http://raygunrevival.com/Forum/viewtopic.php?t=1087
Remember Luke Skywalker’s amazingly lifelike arm re placement in The Empire Strikes Back? A similar type of realisc arm may be in store for injured soldiers. The Johns Hopkins University Applied Physics Laboratory in Laurel, Md., announced Thursday that its team has developed a breakthrough prosthec arm for the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency Revoluoni Revoluonizing zing Prosthecs 2009 program. The DARPA program is an iniave to produce by 2009 a mechanical arm that closely mimics the movement and sensory percepon of a biological arm. It would then be provided for military personal hurt in the line of duty. RGR Date: May 05, 2007 Remember that Minority Report glove interface? http://raygunrevival.co http://ra ygunrevival.com/Forum/viewtopic.ph m/Forum/viewtopic.php?t=1080 p?t=1080
BOSTON, MASS.--Remember the Minority Report scenes in which Tom Cruise and others used their hands to manipu late data on giant computer screens? One man is on a mission to make that gestural interface technology commonplace on every desktop. John Underkoer, Underkoer, the founder and chief scienst of Ob long Industries gave a talk called “Cinema, Science and Innovaon” on Friday night at the Museum of Science in Boston. “The mouse has had a good run but it’s me to say goodbye,” said Underkoer. His company has an operang system, based on hu man-hand gesturing, that allows the user to explore in a 3D plane. The system responds to the pitch, roll and yaw movements that come naturally to the hand and works with cameras that track the posions of targets placed on gloves.
RGR Date: May 10, 2007 George Lucas developing two new live acon SW lms
http://raygunrevival.com/Forum/viewtopic.php?t=1089 Lucas, by the way, says he is readying “Clone Wars,” an animated series for TV that’s derived from “Star Wars.” Many “Star Wars” characters appear in “Clone Wars,” but voiced by other actors. And here’s a lile news: Lucas tells me he will make two more live-acon lms based in the “Star Wars” era. “But they won’t have members of the Skywalker family as characters,” he said. “They will be other people of that milieu.” The two extra lms will also be made for TV and probably be an hour long each. But, like “Clone Wars,” Lucas doesn’t know where on TV they will land. RGR Date: May 05, 2007 The top 25 best sci- of the last 25 years
http://raygunrevival.com/Forum/viewtopic.php?t=1078
Ray Gun Revival magazine
Issue 22, May 15, 2007