Hello, BSFS Members!
I have a giveaway going on for one of my short stories. Here is the link to the giveaway: http://joeyspen.com/cardinal-rule-one-year-anniversary-giveaway/
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| James O'Brien for Quanta Magazine |
Topics: Cosmology, History, Modern Physics, Richard Feynman
Horror vacui: "nature abhors a vacuum." (attributed to Aristotle)
Richard Feynman looked tired when he wandered into my office. It was the end of a long, exhausting day in Santa Barbara, sometime around 1982. Events had included a seminar that was also a performance, lunchtime grilling by eager postdocs, and lively discussions with senior researchers. The life of a celebrated physicist is always intense. But our visitor still wanted to talk physics. We had a couple of hours to fill before dinner.
I described to Feynman what I thought were exciting if speculative new ideas such as fractional spin and anyons. Feynman was unimpressed, saying: “Wilczek, you should work on something real.” (Anyons are real, but that’s a topic for another post.)
Looking to break the awkward silence that followed, I asked Feynman the most disturbing question in physics, then as now: “There’s something else I’ve been thinking a lot about: Why doesn’t empty space weigh anything?”
Feynman, normally as quick and lively as they come, went silent. It was the only time I’ve ever seen him look wistful. Finally he said dreamily, “I once thought I had that one figured out. It was beautiful.” And then, excited, he began an explanation that crescendoed in a near shout: “The reason space doesn’t weigh anything, I thought, is because there’s nothing there!”
Vacuum, in modern usage, is what you get when you remove everything that you can, whether practically or in principle. We say a region of space “realizes vacuum” if it is free of all the different kinds of particles and radiation we know about (including, for this purpose, dark matter — which we know about in a general way, though not in detail). Alternatively, vacuum is the state of minimum energy.
Intergalactic space is a good approximation to a vacuum.
Void, on the other hand, is a theoretical idealization. It means nothingness: space without independent properties, whose only role, we might say, is to keep everything from happening in the same place. Void gives particles addresses, nothing more.
Aristotle famously claimed that “Nature abhors a vacuum,” but I’m pretty sure a more correct translation would be “Nature abhors a void.” Isaac Newton appeared to agree when he wrote:
...that one Body may act upon another at a Distance thro’ a Vacuum, without the Mediation of any thing else, by and through which their Action and Force may be conveyed from one to another, is to me so great an Absurdity, that I believe no Man who has in philosophical Matters a competent Faculty of thinking, can ever fall into it.
But in Newton’s masterpiece, the Principia, the players are bodies that exert forces on one another. Space, the stage, is an empty receptacle. It has no life of its own. In Newtonian physics, vacuum is a void.
Quanta Magazine: How Feynman Diagrams Almost Saved Space, Frank Wilczek
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| Zika Mosquito - Internet Search |
Topics: Biology, Climate Change, Global Warming, Research
I recorded something on my DVR titled "Global Weirding," which I think is far more descriptive of the phenomena. "Warming" tends to imply extreme heat like the Sahara Desert ALL the time. It's more like what you've grown comfortable expecting...don't. Sensational blockbusters like "The Day After Tomorrow" don't help in our impatient point-and-click attention-deficit patience either. Instead of a sudden dystopian disaster, it should be thought of as a slow but steady train wreck.
Aerosol threats have been expected from our changing climate. This new threat is currently growing and concerning for many, like me that have relatives in harms way on the Gulf Coast and Florida. Thankfully, our stalwart, "science-friendly" representatives are on the case, tying battling related birth defects to eliminating abortion. Infants will be safely born on the Gulf Coast (as Latin America grapples with their own previous conservative views and legal prohibitions) sadly, with smaller heads and shortened lifespans. It is an oxymoron; a contradiction in terms and "values."
One of the top U.S. public health officials on Sunday warned that the mosquito-borne Zika virus could extend its reach across the U.S. Gulf Coast after officials last week confirmed it as active in the popular tourist destination of Miami Beach.
The possibility of transmission in Gulf States such as Louisiana and Texas will likely fuel concerns that the virus, which has been shown to cause the severe birth defect known as microcephaly, could spread across the continental United States, even though officials have played down such an outcome.
Concern has mounted since confirmation that Zika has expanded into a second region of the tourist hub of Miami-Dade County in Florida. Miami's Wynwood arts neighborhood last month became the site of the first locally transmitted cases of Zika in the continental United States.
"It would not be surprising we would see additional cases perhaps in other Gulf Coast states," Dr. Anthony Fauci, director of the allergy and infectious diseases unit of the National Institutes of Health (NIH), said in an interview on Sunday morning with ABC News.
Scientific American:
Zika Poised for Possible Spread across U.S. Gulf, Chris Prentice
What's up BSFS members? This is Ricardo Holliman; as you know I am working on an animated series called Kollege Kids with the new addition of Professor Holmes. This picture is the rough draft stages of the show. I wanted to do this blog for inspiring creatives who are starting out and thinking of giving up because they don't see any major progress or results. When you work on a team oriented project vs a self oriented one; you tend to get criticism you don't want to hear. You want to throw a temper tantrum like a three year old when you don't get your way.
In reality compared to industry standards; you don't measure up. You get so burned out that you put your illustrations in the attic for a while. Your team abandons you because they feel you are incompetent for the task. What do you do when this happens? The answer is in plain sight. Perfect your technique and craft. Go up in the attic and grab your illustrations. Go and watch the Behind The Scenes of your favorite animation show or movie you grew watching. Approach it from an industry standards so you know what role you play in projects.
Like me; my strong points are in visuals. My role as a visual/animation coordinator is character & background creation; graphic design; prop master; coordinating frames and key-frames for an animation; video production & editing. I am getting in writing and producing however my strong points are in visuals. When you revisit the attic and you are not facing any pressures working with a team who wants things in a timely manner. Your free time should be in perfecting your craft and learn new way of doing things.
Read blogs, join groups, and get feedback from professionals who are doing what you do. Take the constructive criticism like a creative professionals; be open to new ideas and programs. Make this an self oriented project and whatever you create. Write a story behind those rough drafts of your illustrations. Following industry standards will help you set up a template how to do things. It will help to show how professionals take constructive criticism vs an ameteur.
It is two years later; your team calls you up asking you the progress of your work. They see the new revamped version and they are very eager for you to rejoin the team. This is what happened to me for the past two years. You have to perfect your technique when no one is looking. You have to put work in even if you have two jobs. All you need is two hours out of a day to do so. If this is your passion; you will make time when you feel like you have no time. Perfect your technique and windows of opportunities will open for you. Give it time and you see major results.
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| APS/Alan Stonebraker Distant partners. In this sketch, two cesium atoms in high Rydberg states form a weakly bound molecule about 1 micrometer across, comparable to the size of typical bacteria. |
Topics: Atomic Physics, Particle Physics, Quantum Computer, Rydberg Atom
Strongly bound diatomic molecules such as H2 or O2 are less than a nanometer across. Surprisingly, scientists have been able to create two-atom molecules more than a thousand times larger by using exotic atoms that attract one another only very weakly. Now, a pair of physicists have calculated what makes these “macrodimers” stable, and they have verified their predictions by creating micrometer-sized molecules containing two cesium atoms. The macrodimers could have applications in quantum computing.
Interest in these macromolecules stems from the challenges they pose to conventional understanding of molecules and bonds. More than a decade ago, physicists predicted that molecules with interatomic distances as large as 1 micrometer might be created by using a pair of atoms in so-called Rydberg states. These are atoms in which a single outer-shell electron has been excited to a high quantum state so that it orbits far away from the nucleus. Although Rydberg atoms are unstable, they can live as long as tens of microseconds, and experimenters have succeeded in creating macrodimers from them, confirming their existence indirectly by destroying them and detecting specific spectroscopic signatures [1].
APS Focus: Giant Molecule Made from Two Atoms, Mark Buchanan
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| Olena Shmahalo/Quanta Magazine As neutrinos and antineutrinos change flavors they may illuminate the differences between matter and antimatter. |
Topics: Atomic Physics, Neutrinos, Particle Physics, Quantum Mechanics
(July 28, 2016) - In the same underground observatory in Japan where, 18 years ago, neutrinos were first seen oscillating from one “flavor” to another — a landmark discovery that earned two physicists the 2015 Nobel Prize — a tiny anomaly has begun to surface in the neutrinos’ oscillations that could herald an answer to one of the biggest mysteries in physics: why matter dominates over antimatter in the universe.
The anomaly, detected by the T2K experiment, is not yet pronounced enough to be sure of, but it and the findings of two related experiments “are all pointing in the same direction,” said Hirohisa Tanaka of the University of Toronto, a member of the T2K team who presented the result to a packed audience in London earlier this month.
“A full proof will take more time,” said Werner Rodejohann, a neutrino specialist at the Max Planck Institute for Nuclear Physics in Heidelberg who was not involved in the experiments, “but my and many others’ feeling is that there is something real here.”
The long-standing puzzle to be solved is why we and everything we see is matter-made. More to the point, why does anything — matter or antimatter — exist at all? The reigning laws of particle physics, known as the Standard Model, treat matter and antimatter nearly equivalently, respecting (with one known exception) so-called charge-parity, or “CP,” symmetry: For every particle decay that produces, say, a negatively charged electron, the mirror-image decay yielding a positively charged antielectron occurs at the same rate. But this cannot be the whole story. If equal amounts of matter and antimatter were produced during the Big Bang, equal amounts should have existed shortly thereafter. And since matter and antimatter annihilate upon contact, such a situation would have led to the wholesale destruction of both, resulting in an empty cosmos.
Quanta Magazine: Neutrinos Hint of Matter-Antimatter Rift, Natalie Wolchover
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| Credit: Chris Gash |
Topics: Economy, Education, Politics, STEM
"We hold these truths to be self-evident": the rest is a contentious matter, for at the time the revered words were written, the rest of the sentence "all men were [not] created equal," Native Americans, women and my ancestors chief among them.
"Self-evident": this is attributed to Benjamin Franklin, Founding Father and scientist. It was an edit from Thomas Jefferson's original "sacred and undeniable," a reflection of the scientific revolution at the time, homage to Sir Isaac Newton and "the analytic empiricism of Franklin's close friend David Hume." The American experiment, though far then and now from perfect, would be based not on divine right or dynastic succession, but reason, facts and currently bereft in the public sphere: logic.
It is incredible that Scientific American would take such a stance, but it has to be taken. There are elements of our society that promote "creating their own reality"; the backlash to the Cosmos reboot; Creationism versus Evolutionary Biology; the Flat Earth Society; Young Earth Creationism with more dangerous, unscientific thought on the horizon for exploitation by cynical politicians or the latest flimflam artist.
This year's election is unique as one political party has nominated such a flimflam artist as its candidate, that has made no bones about his hostility to science: "climate change is a plot by the Chinese against American manufacturing." As the New York Daily News opined on his loose 2nd amendment comments: "this isn't funny anymore."
This is an assault on fact versus fantasy, science versus psychobabble; sanity versus insanity. Flimflam's persona non grata interviewed on Alex Jones - the KING of conspiracy provocateurs - as a casual search of YouTube on his rant compilations attests, many right wing pundits have, as he's complained - mainstreamed his views in the public sphere without crediting him, only nourishing a faux ecosystem around Mr. Flimflam. FF sometimes quotes him verbatim, which Jones says admirably is "surreal."
What is surreal is that as a nation, we've crossed the Rubicon. What started as a political tactic to - as Barry Goldwater said "hunt where the ducks are," getting votes from a disgruntled south that couldn't take the changes the Civil Rights Act (1964), the Voting Rights Act (1965) and the Fair Housing Act (1968) ushered in, the Dixiecrat ducks came: John Birch Society cum Southern Strategy cum Reagan Welfare Queens cum Faux News cum Birther Movement cum Alt-Right Movement mainstreamed in an echo chamber. Like a cult, they created their own realities. When Bob Jones University's policy against miscegenation (interracial dating) no longer worked selling themselves as a Christian institution, they found a suitable substitute in abortion opposition. The GOP's platform opposing gay rights - despite the American Psychiatric Association's removing it from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders - is evidenced by its insistence on the quackery of "reparative therapy."
What is surreal is our measure and substantiation of information as citizenry, and how we make decisions as a republic respecting reality, facts, data, evidence, REAL THINGS: what truths are self-evident, or quackery we'll follow over a cliff.
"There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone." Rod Serling, Season One Intro.
“If it disagrees with experiment it is wrong.”
—Richard Feynman
Four years ago in these pages, writer Shawn Otto warned our readers of the danger of a growing antiscience current in American politics. “By turning public opinion away from the antiauthoritarian principles of the nation's founders,” Otto wrote, “the new science denialism is creating an existential crisis like few the country has faced before.”
Otto wrote those words in the heat of a presidential election race that now seems quaint by comparison to the one the nation now finds itself in. As if to prove his point, one of the two major party candidates for the highest office in the land has repeatedly and resoundingly demonstrated a disregard, if not outright contempt, for science. Donald Trump also has shown an authoritarian tendency to base policy arguments on questionable assertions of fact and a cult of personality.
Americans have long prided themselves on their ability to see the world for what it is, as opposed to what someone says it is or what most people happen to believe. In one of the most powerful lines in American literature, Huck Finn says: “It warn't so. I tried it.” A respect for evidence is not just a part of the national character. It goes to the heart of the country's particular brand of democratic government. When the founding fathers, including Benjamin Franklin, scientist and inventor, wrote arguably the most important line in the Declaration of Independence—“We hold these truths to be self-evident”—they were asserting the fledgling nation's grounding in the primacy of reason based on evidence.
Scientific American:
Donald Trump’s Lack of Respect for Science Is Alarming, The Editors
#P4TC: Missing In Action...
If you have kids, any age, they'll love this. Plus, as a bonus, anyone who orders the comic gets a free, digital, copy of the prequel. That's the best deal for $2.99 you're going to get in your next three lifetimes.
And, yes, much to your surprise, I wrote it.
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| Image Source: Astronomy Magazine |
Topics: Astronomy, Eclipse, Heliophysics
In addition to my youngest son's 24th birthday this Sunday, Astronomy gives a guide to a total eclipse that will be seen clearly in Kentucky next year when he turns 25 (and his insurance rates drop like a STONE). Tomorrow, it's an "almost Eclipse" according to Time and Date. Next year it will be the first total eclipse in 38 years. Since we're in different states, it's quite a coincidence to coincide with his birthday. I hope we both get to see it.
From "25 facts you should know about the August 21, 2017, total solar eclipse" (you can get to it at the link below):
1. This will be the first total solar eclipse in the continental U.S. in 38 years. The last one occurred February 26, 1979. Unfortunately, not many people saw it because it clipped just five states in the Northwest and the weather for the most part was bleak. Before that one, you have to go back to March 7, 1970.
2. A solar eclipse is a lineup of the Sun, the Moon, and Earth. The Moon, directly between the Sun and Earth, casts a shadow on our planet. If you’re in the dark part of that shadow (the umbra), you’ll see a total eclipse. If you’re in the light part (the penumbra), you’ll see a partial eclipse.
3. A solar eclipse happens at New Moon. The Moon has to be between the Sun and Earth for a solar eclipse to occur. The only lunar phase when that happens is New Moon.
Astronomy: Prepare for Totality - August 21, 2017
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| Image Source: insideHPC |
Topics: Materials Science, Metamaterials, Science, Research
Fans of Superman surely recall how the Man of Steel used immense heat and pressure generated by his bare hands to form a diamond out of a lump of coal.
The tribologists — scientists who study friction, wear, and lubrication — and computational materials scientists at the U.S. Department of Energy's (DOE's) Argonne National Laboratory will probably never be mistaken for superheroes. However, they recently applied the same principles and discovered a revolutionary diamond-like film of their own that is generated by the heat and pressure of an automotive engine.
The discovery of this ultra-durable, self-lubricating tribofilm — a film that forms between moving surfaces — was first reported yesterday in the journal Nature. It could have profound implications for the efficiency and durability of future engines and other moving metal parts that can be made to develop self-healing, diamond-like carbon (DLC) tribofilms.
"This is a very unique discovery, and one that was a little unexpected," said Ali Erdemir, the Argonne Distinguished Fellow who leads the team. "We have developed many types of diamond-like carbon coatings of our own, but we've never found one that generates itself by breaking down the molecules of the lubricating oil and can actually regenerate the tribofilm as it is worn away."
ANL: Argonne discovery yields self-healing diamond-like carbon, Greg Cunningham
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| Molecular geometry of plastic deformation. Subplot (a): snapshots of the deformation mechanisms, pure CF, for increasing strain. Fibrillar yield is characterized by intermolecular slip (see the circles highlighting a local area of repeated molecular slip). Slip leads to the formation of regions with lower material density. Subplot (b): snapshots of the deformation mechanisms, mineralized collagen fibrils, for increasing strain. Slip initiates at the interface between hydroxyapatite particles and tropocollagen molecules. Slip reduces the density, leading to the formation of nanoscale voids. Courtesy of Nanotechnology |
Topics: Biology, Materials Science, Carbon Nanotubes, Nanotechnology
Nanostructures, such as carbon nanotubes, are often added to polymers and composites to enhance their strength. The extreme mechanical properties of carbon nanotubes suggest an obvious rationale behind this approach. However, as Markus Buehler and Isabelle Su at Massachusetts Institute of Technology in the US highlight in their recent topical review, the behaviour that renders nanomaterials soft or strong can be far from trivial, often involving interactions on a range of scales from macrostructures to nanostructures and – in the case of biostructures – the amino acids and proteins they are built from.
Bone is a classic example of excellent natural material engineering. It primarily consists of tropocollagen fibrils – which would be too soft to support the weight of the skeleton under its daily loads – and hydroxyapatite, a stiff but fragile material prone to fracture. However, the alliance of these two imperfect candidates is an extremely tough, lightweight and robust material.
Based on a simple molecular model of mineralized collagen fibrils, Buehler showed that, as might be expected, the stiffness of mineralized fibrils lies somewhere between the two extremes of the component materials, with as more recent studies reveal, the mineral components bearing up to four times the stress of the collagen fibrils. However, in addition his 2007 study pointed out that the mineralization increases the energy dissipation during deformation. As he explains in his report, “The fibrillar toughening mechanism increases the resistance to fracture by forming large local yield regions around crack-like defects, a mechanism that protects the integrity of the entire structure by allowing for localized failure.”
Nanotechweb:
Nanomechanics – the whole is more than the sum of its parts, Anna Demming
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| Plastic fantastic? Quasicrystal deformations and bending observed |
Topics: Materials Science, Nanotechnology, Quasicrystal
Caveat emptor: I did notice one comment on the article at the main site referencing "Laplace Pressure" as a source explaining how quasicrystal structures become pliable at the nanoscale. The link (I've provided) is to a Wikipedia page. In blogging, one can play kind of "fast and loose" with reference links if trying to make a point as in an essay, but I wouldn't in general use an open source page with the subtitle "A Free Encyclopedia that everyone can edit" referring to a science article. Out of curiosity, I did look it up on Scholarpedia: "the peer-reviewed open-access encyclopedia, where knowledge is curated by communities of experts." The search term Laplace Pressure came up with four links that did not seem to relate to a nanoscale phenomena.
When shrunk to the nanoscale, quasicrystals become plastic. That is the finding of an international team of researchers, which says that its results could potentially widen the material's applications. Quasicrystals – materials in which the atoms show long-range order but have no finite, periodically repeated unit cell – have fascinated materials scientists ever since their Nobel-prize-winning discovery in 1984. Their practical use, however, has been limited by their brittleness.
Conventional crystals plastically deform through dislocations in their lattice that can allow individual unit cells to swap places relatively easily. This makes some crystals, such as pure metals like copper and gold, highly ductile. In quasicrystals, however, there are no unit cells, so it takes more energy to move dislocations. "Normally, the dislocations in quasicrystals are quite mobile at high temperatures," says materials-scientist Yu Zou of Massachusetts Institute of Technology in the US. "However, below 500 °C, the dislocations are not that mobile, so this can make the quasicrystal very brittle."
Physics World: Brittle quasicrystals become ductile at the nanoscale, Tim Wogan
The Consortium ship drew nearer, its missiles and energy batteries subjecting the Horseman to a merciless barrage.
The hammering force of the enemy's assault reverberated through every section of the ship, fissuring decks and bulkheads. Explosive power surges erupted from bridge consoles, multiple shockwaves sweeping Mingana off her feet, sending her head first to the deck.
She blacked out. When she came to seconds later, Povich was kneeling over her, his face fraught with concern. “Captain!”
Mingana glanced about with disoriented eyes. The bridge was a smoke-clogged shambles. Crew members not wounded or dead labored intensively to maintain besieged systems. A few lay curled on the deck, traumatized and oblivious to the screaming chaos around them.
Povich helped Mingana to her feet.
The captain dabbed at a patch of wetness above her left brow, and came away with blood on her fingers.
“Batteries are down. We did all we could,” said Povich.
Mingana shook her head despairingly. “But it wasn't enough. We failed.”
The raucous suddenly ceased and an alien image popped up on one of the few working interface screens on the bridge. The alien's face was broad and jowly with a snout nose, wide mouth and dark, sunken pits for eyes.
The species was different, but Mingana could almost smell the stench of Consortium arrogance wafting through the screen.
“Captain Mingana. Are you alive?” The alien inquired, sounding almost bored.
Mingana stepped a bit unsteadily to the interface. “I'm alive. You must be the captain of the ship I'm trying to annihilate.”
“I am,” replied the alien.
“Good. Do me a favor. Bring your ship to a complete stop so I can ram it.”
The Consortium captain tilted his head a gesture that would have been taken as curiosity in a human. “Amazing and commendable is your ability to spout levity in your final seconds. If your treachery did not result in the destruction of a Consortium ship, with all hands lost, I would be content to simply capture your vessel and enslave you and your crew.”
“Then why are you talking to me?” Mingana asked.
“I wish to inquire about the Duke.”
“The duke is dead.” Mingana raised her chin. “By my hand. In fact I'm responsible for attacking your ships. It was me alone. No one else. My crew was not aware of my Resistance affiliation. Kill me. Spare my crew.”
After a lengthy pause, the Consortium captain spoke. “Trading a single life for the hundreds snuffed out in your devious attack? The death of Duke Rassellin alone is worth three times that many lives. Not a fair balance, Captain. Not a fair balance at all. Goodbye, Captain.”
The alien's image faded away.
Mingana shut her eyes, whispered a farewell to her family and waited.
“Captain, another ship is inbound,” a sensor specialist announced breathily.
Mingana's eyes snapped open.
Povich rushed to a working tactical interface and his face lit up. “It's a Calaar war cruiser!”
***
A second Calaar cruiser flashed out of jump space. Both ships opened fire on the Consortium vessel. Missiles, interspersed with pulsing slashes of point range fusion beams, drenched the enemy ship in a throbbing star hot cauldron.
The Consortium ship launched a spread of missiles and attempted to withdraw. A small percentage of Consortium missiles weaved through the Calaar ships' defensive screen to strike home. But they did little damage. The Consortium ship's objective was to escape. But the Calaar cruisers could not allow that...not with an orbiting city in jeopardy. Even if the Calaar leaders had been warned of the very imminent danger to their lives and evacuated, the Consortium captain could still strike the city out of cruel spite.
Huge explosions chipped away at the Consortium ship's hull. The ship veered off course, its shield reduced to impotence beneath a punishing barrage. Less than a minute later, the ship stuttered to a full stop. The Calaar cruisers ceased fire and took up flanking positions beside their crippled quarry.
***
Mingana witnessed the confrontation on an interface screen and plopped down in her chair, her body sagging with relief.
Povich stood next to his captain, clearly fatigued. “That was a very timely intervention.”
Mingana nodded. “Very timely.”
The Consortium ship surrendered. Mingana had to commend the Calaar for their restraint in not finishing it off. She sure as hell would have. That's why the Calaar were more civilized. Humanity had so much to learn from them.
“I told you no happy farewells,” Mingana said to Povich.
Her Second broke out in weary laughter.
***
Justine Mingana stood on the balcony of the tallest tower in Kitroor, a city located on a Calaar colony world called Ir't. Even as she reveled in the beauty and grandeur of this alien vista, her mind lingered billions of light years away, on a far less important world. Earth remained a constant and vivid picture in her thoughts. She missed her family so much, her heart ached. When she looked up, her longing for home intensified. A thousand Calaar warships of all sizes and classes filled the aquamarine sky. They were part of a grand fleet tasked with retaking Earth.
She spotted the Horseman directly above, resplendent in all of its refurbished glory. Eight months ago, after being rescued by those Calaar ships, she held very little hope that the Horseman could be salvaged for more than a few spare parts. Her hosts on I'rt had exposed their human guests to the gracious, compassionate kindness typical of the Calaar. They had also kept Mingana informed of developments on Earth. She was saddened to hear that Admiral Casey was killed in a U.N. airstrike, and that Ot^^^ had been captured and executed a week later, putting a nail in the Resistance's coffin. She was consoled that the Consortium mass destruction weapon carried on her ship was in Calaar hands. The weapon was a singularity-generating device. A planet-bombardment missile would have been its delivery system. Had the device been deployed, in concert with those launched by the two Consortium ships, a vast orbital city would have been snared in an artificial black hole and reduced to the size of a pinhead. Mingana shuddered at the sheer scale of a such a catastrophe.
Her eyes narrowed to fierce slits. Soon the Consortium occupiers and their human lackeys would be receiving their just desserts. The Calaar did not promise that the fight for Earth be easy. But they did promise victory.
“Captain.”
Mingana turned to see Commander Povich standing at the balcony entrance, accompanied by Lt. Winter and Lt. Commander Kochran. The three regarded their captain with optimistic gazes.
“Your ship and crew awaits,” said Povich with humorous flourish. “Shall we take back our planet?”
Mingana presented a wolfish grin. “By all means, Commander.”
Three hours crawled by.
Mingana had gone straight to the bridge after the weapons room seizure. She ignored her marines' insistence that she stop at sickbay to get her arm treated. She had the medics meet her on the bridge instead.
Stripped down to a sleeveless black undershirt, with burn-treatment gauze covering her tricep wound, Captain Mingana stood beside her chair, eyes glued to an interface.
The Consortium ships had dropped into extended sensor range. As was mapped out before the mission, neither ship would make contact with the Horseman until they were within ten million miles of the city.
Mingana brought up schematics of both ships. They were roughly crab shaped vessels, each one slightly larger than the Horsemen, with shields powerful enough to withstand sustained bombardment from the most lethal of ship-killing missiles. Those shields, however, were only effective when they were up. At the moment those ships lay bare, like lions bereft of teeth and claws. The key in this operation was timing. Hit them while they were weak. Hit them hard. Mingana licked her mental chops, savoring the slaughter she was about to inflict.
“Consortium vessels have crossed the strike threshold, Captain,” Commander Povich reported, facing a gridded tactical interface.
Mingana acknowledged her Second's announcement with a crisp nod. She tapped an comm function on her chair. “Lt. Commander Kochran, status.”
“The packages are ready,” came Kochran's confident voice.
“Thank you.” Mingana turned to a senior combat officer. “Launch.”
The officer tapped keys on his console. “Yes, Captain. Initiating launch. Release in five...four...three...two...
***
Two thermal nuclear missiles exited the Horseman at velocities approaching light. They were human built with Calaar cloaking emitters embedded in their warheads.
Shortly before the Consortium occupied Earth, the Calaar added upgraded stealth to their capabilities, giving them a slight edge over their enemies in that area. The missiles were not simply swathed in light deflectant bubbles, they moved in subspace, further masking their existence from opposing optics and sensors. Fortunately, the Resistance's sole Calaar member, Ot^^^, had overseen the salvaging of a few new generation cloaking emitters. Afterward, the Consortium swept the solar system clean of any traces of Calaar technology.
The first Consortium ship became a pitch black cutout at the heart of a massive glare of hell light when the first missile struck it. A cascade of released nuclear fury cooked the ship, reducing it to a crumpled, smoldering husk. What remained of the vessel drifted powerlessly in the void. The second missile was knocked off of its trajectory by the pummeling effects of the first blast, sustaining just enough damage to short out its stealth function.
The missile emerged into full visibility five seconds before terminal contact with the second Consortium ship...which was more than enough time for the ship's close range defenses to respond.
Mingana watched her interface, the ecstatic thrill she felt witnessing the first ship's demise replaced by sickening horror as the second missile's cloak failed. A glittering salvo of close-range defense fire blew the missile apart in a blinding massive glow that quickly subsided like a snuffed out candle flame.
Mortified silence seized the bridge. The mission could only succeed if both enemy ships were destroyed. Mingana had to stop that second ship at all costs. All costs!
“Prep ship to ship missiles,” she ordered. “Move forward to engagement range, full impulse.”
Commander Povich didn't bat an eye when he relayed his captain's orders. Neither did anyone else on the bridge for that matter. Yet, they all knew that the Horseman, a human built vessel, stood little chance in a head to head encounter with a product of advanced extraterrestrial technology. But doing nothing at all to prevent the deaths of billions was certainly not an option.
Twenty Dragon Flare ship to ship missiles shot out from the Horseman's launchers, slicing a deadly path toward the Consortium ship. One by one the missiles vanished in a frenetic maelstrom of precision enemy counter fire.
Emitter nodes pimpling the enemy ship's hull spat incandescent lashes of energy toward the Horseman.
The human ship bucked violently as impacting beams speared explosively into its hull. Followup anti-ship missiles tore glowing gashes in the Horseman. Atmosphere plumed from numerous hull breaches, crystallizing in the freezing vacuum.
Bridge lighting and well over two thirds of interface screens blinked out. Auxiliary power had suffered substantially. Barely enough backup lighting clicked on to adequately alleviate the bridge's shadowy darkness.
Operations consoles sizzled and sparked from pernicious power surges.
“Guidance systems have suffered critical damage,” Povich reported, more calmly than the situation warranted. “Breaches are on every level...overall life support is at 80 percent, but that number is dropping.”
“Casualties?” Mingana asked.
“Eleven dead...so far. Twice that number injured according to sickbay data.”
The captain dropped a dejected gaze. More losses under her command...but she could not turn back. She refused. “Maintain target lock on enemy ship. Keep firing.”
“Most of our batteries are inoperable,” Povich said with a heavy grimace.
Mingana looked determinedly at her Second. “Then we'll use the batteries we have left, and when they're exhausted or destroyed, we'll come at that ship with fists, feet and teeth if need be.”
Povich gazed appreciatively at Mingana. “If need be. It's been an honor serving with you, Captain.”
Mingana smirked. “Likewise, Commander. But no happy farewells just yet. I want to at least bloody their noses.”
The Horseman and Consortium ship exchanged volleys. But the Horseman's missiles were knocked out of space faster than they could launch. By contrast, every missile cast by the enemy ship penetrated the Horesman's paltry defense screen with contemptuous lack of effort. More breaches opened up the length and breadth of the Horseman's hull, a few so deep as to gut entire levels. Crewmembers not incinerated in the blasts were sucked out into space in raging windstorms.
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| An illustration of Prospector-1, a mission that will visit a near Earth asteroid to look for water ice. Credit: Deep Space Industries |
Topics: Asteroids, Economy, Jobs, Space Exploration, Spaceflight, STEM
LOGAN, Utah — Deep Space Industries plans to launch a small satellite by the end of the decade to survey a near Earth asteroid, the next major step in the company's long-term ambitions to mine asteroids for resources.
The company, based in Mountain View, California, announced its Prospector-1 mission Aug. 9. The 50-kilogram satellite is designed to visit an asteroid and look for deposits of water ice that could, in the future, be mined and used as propellant by other spacecraft.
"This is intended to be a very low cost first commercial mission to an asteroid," said Grant Bonin, chief engineer of Deep Space Industries, in a presentation about Prospector-1 Aug. 9 during the 30th Annual Conference on Small Satellites at Utah State University here.
Space.com:
Deep Space Industries Unveils First Asteroid Prospecting Spacecraft, Jeff Foust
I had a great time on Genesis Science Fiction Radio with William Hayashi for the July 29th Episode.
We talked about the jinx of talking about a future projects too early, the use of beta readers and much more during a two-hour discussion where we talked about books, breaks in creativity and beyond.
“You're Resistance?” Povich asked when he and Mingana stepped into the captain's office.
Mingana nodded.
“For how long?”
“Years. But, this is my first operation.” The captain perched on the corner of her desk, arms folded. “And I intend for it to be successful.”
Povich cocked his head. “What is this operation?”
“To prevent this ship from using the weapon that will wipe out that city,” Mingana replied. “Also, we have to destroy the Consortium ships that'll be joining us. And and then we make contact with the Calaar and deliver this weapon to them.”
“Sounds...overly ambitious,” said Povich.
“It'll be easier with your participation.”
Povich shook his head, his gaze smoldering with frustration. “Damn you Captain for dropping this trouble in my lap. My intention since the Consortium arrived in our part of the galaxy was to keep my head down, don't make waves, and do my duty.”
Mingana said nothing. She watched her second deliberate.
“In fact, I'd always considered the Resistance to be pursuing a futile enterprise.” Povich threw his hands up. “I mean, how in the hell can we, mere humans, take on a colossus like the Consortium? What could we possibly achieve? What kind of blow could we inflict on them?”
“There's one way to find out,” said Mingana. “And it sounds to me like you want to be on the inflicting end.”
Povich blew out a heavy sigh. “I suppose I do, Captain.”
“Are you with us?”
Povich stared deeply into his captain's eyes. “I'm with you, Justine Mingana. I still think what the Resistance is doing is folly, but I'll join this mission.”
Mingana displayed a relieved smile. “Thank you, Arie. I'm sorry for plunging you into this situation.”
Povich gave his captain a sly look accompanied by a skeptical grin. “No you're not.”
***
Mingana led the assault on weapons room 3 while Povich remained on the bridge. Povich protested, expressing deep concern for his captain's safety, and offering to lead the assault, given his greater ground combat expertise. But Mingana turned him down on principle. She had put a portion of her crew at great risk, with the possibility that her ship and everyone on board, Resistance and non-Resistance alike could be destroyed. She could not in good conscious enjoy the safety of the bridge while her shipboard marines faced the danger of taking on Consortium guards. The Resistance entrusted this mission to her and she intended to carry it out at the fullest measure. And if she were killed, Povich would take command and finish the mission.
Mingana ordered that the marines be armed with heavy weapons and a disproportionate amount of explosives. She was able to muster up to fifteen extra marines to augment the thirty two who were part of the Resistance. The marines who refused to participate in the mission, she ordered restricted to quarters.
Two marines emerged into the corridor wielding Tactical Arena mini-rocket launchers.
They triggered rockets before the guards in the corridor outside of weapons room 3 could react. Both rockets struck the guards and exploded, shattering their armor and killing them instantly. A marine tossed a disk shaped charge and it landed inches from the weapons room 3 door. The door opened and as Consortium guards rushed out into the corridor, the charge exploded. The explosion's force slammed with point blank ferocity into the guards, scattering them like confetti. Three lay still in the corridor, two others, struggled to their feet, appearing disoriented.
Mingana rushed ahead of her marines and targeted the nearest wounded guard with her KR. A torrent of shotgun shells blazed from the weapon shearing into damaged parts of the guard's armor, penetrating flesh.
The guard's movements ceased in a bloody instant.
Lt. Winter finished off the other guard with a savage burst of her mini-rocket launcher.
Winter held back her over zealous captain and signaled a marine forward. The marine pointed a launcher and shot a grenade into the weapons room. A blast sounded and ash gray smoke gusted out of the weapons room into the corridor.
Marines stormed into the room. A crossfire of dark energy beams greeted them. A marine flopped lifelessly to the deck, his head blasted to red vaper by a well placed energy beam. The marine behind him spun practically full circle as energy beams lacerated his upper body. A lance of energy thrust like a fiery blade into Lt. Winter's side. She cried out in pain as she stumbled to the deck.
Mingana fired her KR, unleashing hot metal on the position where that shot came from. She saw a Consortium guard go down, but she wasn't sure if it was her doing. Two marines with Beringer 50 cals swept the area. A third marine fired a rocket before being cut down in a volley of energy.
The rocket collided with a bulkhead and the subsequent explosion upended a guard in a searing swell of fire, smoke and debris.
Mingana knelt protectively over Lt. Winter, pumping shells from her KR in every direction. When her clip ran empty, she expelled it and slapped in a full one with expert precision. She fired several more thumping bursts, hitting a Consortium guard in the chest.
A marine appeared and helped the captain drag Winter to the cover of a nearby partition. Energy beams sizzled past Mingana. A beam grazed her gun arm. That minor brush tore through the interlocking ballistic mesh of her flak jacket, marking her skin with a deep blistering burn. The captain clenched her teeth at that hot, scathing patch of pain. She switched her KR to her other hand and fired blindly around the partition. The gun's brutal recoil nearly threw her arm out its socket. More explosions from grenades and rockets rang out in deafening succession. Black smoke clogged the room. The enraged or anguished voices of Consortium guards and marines carried above the churning raucous of combat. Mingana didn't know exactly when the silence set in. For a few seconds, the rapid, drumming of her heartbeat filled her head as if she were locked in an echo chamber. And then a marine called out: “Clear!”
Mingana checked on Winter.
Wisps of smoke spiraled from a glistening wound in the lieutenant's side. Winter tried to project a certain unflappability, but intense pain sabotaged her effort. She let out a ragged groan.
“You're going to be OK, lieutenant,” Mingana assured the woman, gently squeezing her hand.
Winter managed a wry smile. “I...hope so, Captain...because I'm not done kicking ass.”
Mingana grinned in agreement.. “Neither am I.” She rose slowly, cautiously, taking a look around the room.
Marines were circulating about, assessing their kills. Ten Consortium guards and five Consortium technicians had occupied the weapons room. All of them lay scattered on the deck, dead. Six marine fatalities, from what Mingana could make out; four wounded. Her shoulders slumped. Another battle won at a terrible cost. But the mission wasn't over yet.
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| Credit: NASA/CXC/SAO/J.DePasquale and NASA/JPL-Caltech and NASA/STScI |
Topics: Astrophysics, Big Bang, Cosmology, Science Fiction, Theoretical Physics
The next-to-last related topic may seem unrelated: one of the Marvel Comics I recall reading was "Origin of Galactus," nee Galan who in the rebirth of the previous universe became the devouring planet eater that the Fantastic Four would battle and enslave his herald The Silver Surfer. This wouldn't be possible without someone reading the scientific papers of the day, so this idea is not new. It doesn't have to be true, proven or compelling to exist as an effective plot device.
What most non-fans of comics never appreciated is the amount of research the writers did to create their stories. I recall for instance passing a history test on Norse Mythology solely on the info I'd gleaned from Thor comics, albeit the original Norse god was describe as red-haired, needing a power belt and gloves to lift Mjölnir, having a goat-drawn chariot; three wives and children. Probably too much to put on the big screen.
Did the universe start with a bang or a bounce—or something else entirely? The question of our origins is one of the thorniest in physics, with few answers and lots of speculation and strong feelings. The most popular theory by far is inflation, the notion that the cosmos blew up in size in the first few fractions of a second after it was born in a bang. But an underdog idea posits that the birth of this universe was not actually the beginning—that an earlier version of spacetime had existed and contracted toward a “big crunch,” then flipped and started expanding into what we see today. Now a new study suggesting a twist on this “bounce” scenario has supporters excited and inflation proponents newly inflamed over a “rival” they say they have repeatedly disproved, only to have it keep bouncing back.
Inflation has many admirers because the rapid expansion it posits seems to explain numerous features of the universe, such as the fact that it appears relatively flat (as opposed to curved, on large scales) and roughly uniform in all directions (there is roughly the same amount of stuff everywhere, again on large scales). Both conditions result when regions of space that ended up very far away initially started out close together and in contact with one another. Yet the latest versions of the theory seem to suggest—even require—that inflation created not just our universe but an infinite landscape of universes in which every possible type of universe with every possible set of physical laws and characteristics formed somewhere. Some scientists like this implication because it could explain why our particular universe, with its seemingly random yet perfectly calibrated-to-life conditions, exists—if every type of cosmos is out there, it is no wonder that ours is, too. But other physicists find the multiverse idea repulsive, in part because if the theory predicts that every possibility will come to pass, it does not uniquely foretell a universe like the one we have.
“Big bounce” theories also predict a flat and uniform cosmos, thanks to smoothing-out effects on space that can take place during the contraction. But the sticking point of the bounce idea has long been the transition between shrinking and expanding, which seemed to require the much-hated idea of a “singularity”—a time when the universe was a single point of infinite density—seen by many as a mathematically meaningless proposition that indicates a theory has gone off the rails. Now physicists say they have found a way to calculate the bounce without encountering any singularities. “We found we could describe the quantum evolution of the universe exactly,” says study co-author Neil Turok, director of the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics in Ontario. “We found that the universe passes smoothly through the singularity and out the other side. That was our hope, but we’d never really accomplished this before.” He and Steffen Gielen of Imperial College London published their calculations last month in Physical Review Letters.
Scientific American: Did the Universe Boot Up with a “Big Bounce?” Clara Moskowitz
The orbiting city filled every interface on the bridge. Less than an hour from target range, the mood on the bridge was electric. Mingana stood in front of her chair, fixated on the central interface while Duke Rassellin transmitted the city's coordinates to those of his people in Weapons room 3 in charge of operating the Consortium weapon. Helm paced the bridge's lower section, rubbing his hands in anticipation. Povich walked from station to station ensuring that everything flowed smoothly leading up to the weapon's deployment.
“Consortium ships, Hrizer and Kemirt are inbound,” announced a sensor specialist. “ETA, twelve minutes.”
Mingana switched images on her personal interface and watched real time footage of both Consortium ships approaching the Horseman at max impulse. She turned partially and met the eye of an officer at the weapons station named Daoud.
The weapons officer motioned a subtle nod.
Mingana nodded back and returned her attention to the interface. Casually, she strode to a console behind her command chair. As she activated a control panel, she glanced up to see Helm watching her. If the observer was curious about why Mingana was at the console, he didn't show it. If anything, he was clearly preoccupied with other matters.
Mingana looked away from the observer, and began typing on a keypad.
“Captain,” Helm called.
“Yes, Observer?”
“Is everything alright?”
Mingana replied without looking at the observer. Her fingers continued to blur across the keypad. “Never better, Observer.”
“Captain, communication is down,” said Povich, his brow crinkled in puzzlement.
Both Helm and Rassellin faced the Second.
“We have neither outgoing nor incoming communication.” Povich leaned forward, gleaning data from a com station interface. “Diagnostic isn't revealing anything. Must be a momentary glitch caused by cosmic radiation.”
“I'm not interested in guesses, Commander,” Helm said, his jaw clenched tight with tension. “Find out exactly what's wrong and fix it.”
Mingana regarded the observer with a hooded gaze. It wasn't Helm's place to give orders to her crew. It was even less appropriate for him to adopt a berating tone while doing so. Normally, she would have pulled the observer aside for a word. But, after what she had just done, nothing that came before this fateful moment mattered. The Rubicon had been crossed.
A dozen Shipboard Marines in polished navy blue armor suddenly stormed onto the bridge, their weapons raised.
Rassellin's bodyguards reacted swiftly, leveling their blasters on the marines. Duke Rassellin reached for the jeweled-handled ceremonial knife sheathed at his hip.
“Stand down, Duke!” Mingana shouted. “Tell your guards to drop their weapons!”
Lt. Winter approached the captain with an extra firearm in hand, a KR auto-shotgun. The captain accepted the weapon and aimed it at Rassellin.
“Captain! What the hell are you doing?” Helm exclaimed, in gape-mouthed shock..
Povich froze, his eyes flashing skittishly between armed parties. “Captain...what's going on?”
“It should be obvious to you, Commander Povich,” Rassellin said, slowly, defiantly drawing his blade. “Your captain is a traitor.” He threw a cutting glance Helm's way. “And your U.N. Authority vetted her. Pitiful.”
Mingana cocked the KR with attitude. “Duke Rasellin, you're not in a very tenable position. Plus, I just implemented an executive override, shutting down all communication, further isolating you and your people on this ship. If you want to avoid the shitstorm I'm prepared to rain on you, I strongly advise you and your guards to surrender.”
Rasellin huffed in a manner of laughter peculiar to his species. “I love these colorful human metaphors.” The Duke appeared thoughtful. “Why don't we do this instead. You and every traitor backing you will surrender to me. You will undo this executive override and then I turn you over to Observer Helm's custody. He'll detain you and your accomplices and we resume our mission. The alternative is we kill you on the spot. You choose.”
Mingana stared at the Duke as if the other had gone certifiably mad. “Drop your weapons, now. I will not make that request again.”
Rassellin's blade glowed like silver fire. “Neither will I, Captain.” He screamed an utterance in his native tongue and both of his guards opened fire.
Dark, scorching iridescence streamed from the guards' blasters, ripping into three marines before the rest retaliated.
Marine M82s pulsed furiously. Carbon-jacketed rounds smacked into the Consortium guards' armored suits with no initial debilitating effects. Projectile impacts staggered the guards, but they continued firing, dark energy stabbing like black arrows into marine armor.
Mingana dove behind a console and popped up, triggering her KR. Massive titanium shells spurted from her auto-shotgun's barrel in deafening rapid fire reports. A guards head snapped back, his faceplate holed by a shotgun shell that burrowed halfway into his skull.
Bridge crew scrambled for cover. Two officers and a specialist, caught in the crossfire, tumbled to the deck in bloody heaps.
Rassellin charged toward the nearest marine. His energized blade flashed, plunging hilt deep into the marine's neck guard.
The marine let out a wet gurgle as Rassellin extracted the blade and swung swiftly to his right. The blade's molecular edge sliced effortlessly through the armor, flesh and bone of a second marine, lopping off an arm at the elbow.
The Duke started to lunge toward another marine but a spatter of M82 bullets peppered his torso, stopping him short.
Mingana rammed her KR's muzzle into the side of Rassellin's head and squeezed the trigger. A third of the Duke's head erupted in a globular fountain of brain and bone fragments from the KR's thunderous discharge.
The marines poured combined fire into the last Consortium guard. The guard somehow remained upright, despite a raging welter of rounds gouging hot divots out of his near impenetrable armor.
“Everyone down!” Lt. Winter shouted.
Mingana and the marines hit the deck as Winter launched a grenade from her M82.
The grenade struck the tottering guard square in the chest and detonated. The blast turned the guards torso into a steaming crater. Shockwaves reverberated through the bridge like an assault from giant invisible sledgehammers.
Observer Helm rushed to his feet and grabbed a dead guard's blaster. He pointed it at Mingana, but his grip on the alien weapon lacked surety. Panic flared bright as torches in his eyes. “Put your weapons down!”
Mingana trained her shotgun on the observer. Her surviving marines did the same.
“Don't be an idiot, Helm,” Mingana growled. With adrenaline pumping through her body like wildfire, and impatience gnawing at her discipline, she hoped she could suppress a burning compulsion to blow the observer's head off.
“The Consortium are our allies...our...our...friends,” Helm stammered, the blaster shaking in his hand. “They rid us of the Calaar, gave us our planet back...and this is the gratitude you show them?”
“Gratitude for what?” Mingana bit off, her face twisted in ridicule.. “For returning us to the same instability that wracked our world before the Calaar came? The Calaar helped us...”
“They hobbled us!” Helm cut in, displaying teeth like a cornered wolf. “They took away out ability to solve our own problems, tackle our own challenges.”
“We weren't doing an effective job of that in the first place,” said the captain. “Hell, too many people with the power to effect change had no interest in doing so. Too much profit to be made maintaining a status quo that condemned billions to poverty and suffering. But I'm not going to waste time arguing the pros and cons of Human-Calaar relations with you.” Mingana stepped forward with very meaningful intent. “Drop that blaster.”
Helm wisely chose not to test the captain's resolve. Despairingly, he lowered the weapon and let it slip from his fingers to clatter on the deck.
Lt Winter rushed forward to pick up the blaster while a marine slapped cuffs on the observer.
Mingana gazed gravely at the dead and wounded marines sprawled on the deck and sighed wistfully. Over half down against two guards and a puffed up VIP. She knew the Consortium soldiers would be a formidable challenge with their durable armor and powerful guns...but she hadn't imagined that they would be this difficult to bring down even with upgraded assault weapons. She reached down to pick up Duke Rassellin's knife and appraised it with a grudging respect. The blade still glowed with lethal energy. She glanced at the ill fortuned marine with the amputated arm, knotted her brow in sympathy, and gestured to an officer. “Get a medical team up here.”
The officer like the rest of the bridge crew looked a like frightened rabbit.
“Now!”
The officer moved promptly in compliance. Although, it was clear his obedience was motivated more by the automatic shotgun in Mingana's hand than her status as a superior officer.
Mingana couldn't help but to be amused by the irony. Here she was a captain leading a mutiny on her own ship. “Listen up,” she announced to the entire bridge. “As you've no doubt gathered, our mission has changed. We no longer work for the Consortium. Some of you may be fine with that, others not. Those of you who are not, step forward. I promise no harm will come to you. You'll simply be confined to quarters. The rest, we have work to do and all I'll require from you is one hundred percent loyalty, one hundred percent commitment.”
Five crew members stepped forward. Two marines immediately escorted them from the bridge.
Two of the five operated critical systems, as did the ones who were deceased.
Mingana rubbed her brow. She would manage..
She noticed that Povich hadn't budged, but the critical set of his face offered no guarantee of support..
“Commander?” She said, solicitously.
Povich frowned. “You've put me in quite a predicament, Captain.”
Mingana conceded with a guilty nod. “Let's talk, Second...if you're still my Second.”
Povich offered no hints.
Recently, on another social media platform people were say how we need to stop taking hand me downs from Marvel & DC. Here was my response. I also would like to know what you think.
I don't have that much of a problem with Marvel and DC characters. I tend to think there is room for both mainstream and independent. Personally, I only buy independent for the past 10 years. I purchase indie comics, videos, books 90% of the time. We need to stop looking at this in the same old manner. Where mainstream falls shirt there is an opportunity for indie creators to fill that niche market.
Please listen to what animation legend Ralph Baski has to say about it.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WApcUBcVMos
If you are serious about getting some things done holla at the admin at: blacksciencefictionsociety.com and let's get some work done.
