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I just updated my blog with a black superman movie fan cast go check it out at www.blacknerdfilms.blogspot.com also visit my videos on man of steel and the white savior syndrome in the video section of this site THANKS!

BLACK SUPERMAN FAN CAST

The tattooed hijacker Dern dubbed Five Star paused in the middle of pacing and touched an area next to his right ear to activate a sub-dermal communicator. He nodded and turned in a slow circle. “Good news, people. We’re a few minutes out from our destination. This will all be over soon and you can get back to whatever mundane lives you were leading before you met us.”

            Ura flashed a relieved look at Dern.

            Theresa clenched Cyril’s hand tightly. “Now we have to worry about how we’ll get to Ceres 3.”

            “Cyril nuzzled closer to his wife. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. We’ll find a way.”

            Dern said nothing. He watched the hijackers, unable to shake the nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that the resolution to this crisis was all too easy, all too reassuring.

            Annually, thousands of deep space sleeper ships cruised to the farthest parts of known space and quite often beyond. Such journeys had become routine and safe enough for the most risk averse traveler to undertake with minimal concern. But they were not entirely void of hazards. A ship’s shielding could degrade, exposing passengers and crew to lethal radiation. A defective stasis system could fail in its IV delivery of nutrients to sleeping passengers, subsequently starving them to death. Engines might shut down, stranding ships or a faulty astrogation computer could veer a ship off course by years, perhaps centuries.

            Thankfully, those problems were rare to nonexistent in an age when the major wrinkles initially hobbling deep space travel were ironed out.

            And then there were occasional stories of sleeper ships disappearing enroute to their destinations never to be seen again.

Dern had heard of such occurrences over the years, but like most citizens paid little to no heed to them. Now, he had to wonder if those vanished ships had fallen into the hands of bandits and if so, what of the occupants? What was their fate? What would be the fate of he and his fellow passengers?

            Dern’s fears bounded to full fruition when Five Star and his comrades suddenly leveled their weapons on the sitting passengers and opened up. Diamond-tipped, carbon-jacketed flechettes ripped from nearly a dozen assault rifles and pistols, buzz sawing across rows of flesh. Dozens of men and women crumpled beneath jack hammering rounds. A few passengers tried to scramble away only to be riddled to shreds, their bodies twisting in mid flight and crashing to the deck in contorted positions.         

            Blood and gore splashed across polished white surfaces, mingling with flachette- gouged pack marks.

            Dern had enjoyed a relationship with violence that was disturbingly deep and abiding. But that was long ago, relegated to another life. To be so unexpectedly reunited with a specter from his past was so jarring, he could only sit, frozen in place watching death unfold around him as if he were outside his body.

A hijacker ten feet away pointed his RI4 at Dern and smiled. Dern peered into the weapon’s muzzle and saw his imminent demise, yet he still could not move.

            Ura jumped up screaming.

            The muzzle flashed.

            A spatter of flachttes punched through her body, exploding against the bulkhead. One flachette caught Dern in the collar bone. Another one grazed his head after passing through Ura’s lower back. She collapsed on top of Dern as he lapsed into anguished darkness.

            The ship entered the planet’s atmosphere, descending toward a settlement called Routh. Neither the Coalition nor the other five polities comprising the human Diaspora was aware of this settlement’s very unsanctioned existence. That was sure to change in time. The Coalition dispatched regular patrols to search for and dissolve rogue settlements on the planets it laid claim to. Most unsanctioned settlers accepted dissolution. If they were upstanding, law-abiding types, Coalition patrols, acting on the discretion of commanding officers, opted not to deport them.

Criminal settlements were another matter entirely. Routh’s unsavory inhabitants knew they lived on borrowed time. Until a patrol did discover them, they intended to squeeze as much profit from their varied criminal enterprises as possible. After that, it was on to another uncharted world… provided they escaped arrest and imprisonment.

            Tunnal slouched in the captain’s chair, his fingers drumming a delightful rhythm on the armrest. A place like Routh needed all the ships it could get, since it lacked the industry and skilled labor to build them from scratch. The latest model sleeper ship, with cutting edge propulsion, state-of-the-art spatialonics and high yield multi-range weaponry to fend off pirates (Tunnal smirked) was guaranteed to net him and his associates their biggest payday.

            His subdermal com buzzed. Tunnal sat up straight and pressed next to his ear to receive. “Go ahead.”

            An enthused voice responded. “The passengers have been liquidated, Boss.”

            Tunnal gazed surreptitiously around the bridge. Crew members sat at their stations, stupidly oblivious to the slaughter he green lighted below. Their turn would soon come…but not before they landed the ship. He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Good job. Check the bodies. Confirm that they’re all dead.”

            “Will do, Boss. We’ll make damn sure there are no witnesses.”

I'm failry new to this particular site and have found it to be interesting so far. In due process, I am currently working on homework assignment and since my favorite topics involves Sci-fi/ fantasy/Comic art, I have decided to post a series of questions for my homework assignment here.They are as follows:In the past, or during your childhood, was there a particular work, theme or image in the category of science fiction/fantasy artwork or films that you favored but was considered “wrong or “demonic” by either : your relatives, friends religious groups? Why was that particular piece of art your favorite? Why would the others that you knew view it as “bad” or “demonic”? If misunderstood as being “bad” what was your explanation or evidence to clarify the image to being harmless or just a misunderstanding? If you came to the conclusion that the image was bad as a final result what is your reason? How is it looked upon today?How do you compare some of the sci-fi works that are created today in comparison with what you have experienced in the past? What do you think would cause society to look at that particular type of art/film differently and/ or change their way of looking at it? Is the controversy still evident today as it is in the past? And what reasons do those individuals (or yourself) have to back up those reasons?Just to give a brief example, during my childhood, I grew up in the south (Central Florida) and I had a fascination for drawing dragons anthros and mythical creatures. I was condemned and judged by church members and a few folks in my family because their hypothesis is based on just a few scriptures in the Bible, giving them circular reasoning as to why all dragons are evil. Not only that, I was always pestered with questions such as, "why can't I draw landscape sceneries, or people?" Grant it, I can draw people and just about anything I lay my eyes across, I just find it boring to draw. Since at that particular time I was at a very young age, I had difficulty explaining my intended purpose for drawing mythical creatures and that my art had no evil intentions behind them. Besides,the dragons I created doesn't look like anything that the scriptures describes.

Read more: IBM's Watson Headed to Your Smartphone as Customer Service Agent
From MIT Technology Review
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Dern walked out of the lift onto the stasis level, holding his temper in check as the gunman prodded him a second time. Passengers huddled fearfully on the floor as leering, rifle toting captors loomed over them.
Dern counted ten hijackers. Six men, four women. He didn’t recall a single face from the outset of the voyage. They must have boarded the ship after Dern had settled into his tube. How did they manage to smuggle weapons on board? Unless they didn’t need to…unless they had inside help.
He noticed Cyril and his wife sitting on the floor near the last stasis chamber embracing each other. He eased down next to the couple.
Satisfied that the curious passenger was where he was supposed to be, the big hijacker turned and headed back to the lift.
“This is a nightmare,” Theresa whispered, her voice laden with fear and desperation. “What do they want with us?”
“They’ve rerouted the ship to another star system,” Dern replied quietly, glancing furtively at a nearby hijacker. “The ringleader says we’re going to be dropped off there.”
“They didn’t reroute the ship,” Cyril commented with certainty. “The coordinates to Ceres 3 were never laid in. If they were, our tubes would never have revived us when they did.”
Dern’s eyes sharpened with interest.
Theresa fixed a puzzled gaze on her husband. “What are you saying?”
“Someone on the bridge did not set a course for Ceres 3.” Cyril squinted. “That may or may not have happened with the captain’s consent.”
“The captain looked pretty banged up,” said Dern. “I doubt he’s working with these thugs.”
“Well, I can guarantee you, somebody among the crew is.” Cyril looked at his wife, more angry than frightened. “I guarantee it.”
Dern could only agree. “There could be more than one.”

Tunnal sat in the captain’s chair, his weapon holstered. He didn’t have to worry about a crewmember making a go for it. At this point they were nothing more than scared rabbits. And with his associates on hand to stifle temptations the hijack leader couldn’t have felt more secure.
A hum from one of the bridge stations interrupted an orderly silence. Tunnal swiveled to the source, then glanced at the captain. “What’s that?”
The captain moved toward the station, peering over the operator’s shoulder. “Just a minor strain in the left flank thruster.”
Tunnal shot up from the chair, his hand hovering threateningly above his Viper’s grip. “Is this a ploy of some kind? You trying to hamper us?”
A tension that couldn’t possibly get any thicker, hardened to stone. The captain did his best to project an unflappable demeanor. “No ploy. Had you allowed us to do a systems check after switching engines to manual we could have addressed this issue early on.”
Tunnal didn’t like the captain’s attitude, but a point was a point. He propped on the chair’s armrest, making a fluttering motion. “Carry on. Address this issue. But I want us in System 382 in three days.”
“We’ll get you there sooner. But how do we know this place will be accommodating for my passengers and crew?”
“You don’t.” Tunnal stared at the captain as if daring the officer to challenge him further on the topic. “Will that be all, Captain?”
Appearing slightly hesitant, the captain forced a sharp nod and turned away.
Josik sauntered over to his leader. “I know that preening sod will be the first one you take down,” he whispered harshly.
Tunnal thought briefly before shaking his head. “Perhaps not. I may go after the passenger that was up here.”
Josik’s eyes narrowed curiously. “Why him?”
“I don’t know. There’s something about him. I can’t place it.” Tunnal slapped a hand on his knee. “Either way, this will all be over soon.”

“I have a sister on Ceres 3.” Ura reflected, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Passengers sat along both sides of the corridor walls, avoiding eye contact with the hijackers.
Dern was perched beside the woman, listening, yet observing every detail of the gunmen, from their garb to their mannerisms.
Nine hijackers occupied the level. Two wore short sleeve shirts revealing arms layered in colorful tattoos. He paid particular attention to those tattoos when one or the other walked by.
The hijackers seemed detached enough. They didn’t mistreat passengers. In fact they barely spoke at all, except to each other, and then only in brief exchanges.
“I was going to join her,” Ura continued, her eyes glistening. “I haven’t seen her in a decade.”
“You’ll see her again,” Dern said, preoccupied with one of the tattooed hijackers. “This is just a delay.”
“A delay.” Ura dabbed at a tear with the back of her hand. “Are you always this optimistic?”
“Optimism is good for your health.”
Dern looked to Cyril and Theresa who sat on his other side.
They eagerly anticipated spending their retirement years away from the stress and strain of an overcrowded Coalition world. Of course given the rapidity with which Coalition frontier worlds were being settled, Dern doubted Ceres 3 would remain so pristine for long.
“Looks like you’ll be late reporting to your new job,” Cyril remarked, trying his best not to look worried.
Dern offered a wry smile. “I’m sure my boss will understand.”
“What do you think this System 382 planet is like?” asked Theresa.
“Sounds like a place that harbors unsanctioned settlements.” Dern could have told her that the planet was very likely a nest of cutthroats, smugglers, pirates and every assortment of criminality known and reviled by decent folk. But he didn’t want to alarm her…or anyone else within earshot.
The tattooed hijacker he was studying walked past, assault rifle resting on his shoulder.
Dern noticed five orange four point star tattoos linearly positioned underneath the hijacker’s right forearm. The sight gave him pause. Individuals employed by cartels in the Petra Cluster typically marked parts of their bodies with orange stars symbolizing how many victims they killed. A person associated with a Petra cartel never allowed himself to be outsourced unless there was blood work involved.
“Are you…ok?”
Dern turned to Theresa. His sudden look of concern obviously unnerved her. He put on a show of reassurance. “I’m fine. I was just…considering putting in for some vacation time when I start my job. I’m going to need some substantial recovery time from this ordeal.” He grinned.
Cyril and Theresa grinned too.
Ura brightened, but not enough to outshine her distress.

The fourth planet in System 382 appeared a bright and richly textured sienna on the bridge’s primary display screen.
The hijackers eyed the image in quiet jubilation.
The crewmembers calmly focused on their tasks as if under normal circumstances.
“We have no data on this world,” the captain said to Tunnal. “Perhaps you can show us where to make entry…if you don’t mind.”
Tunnal glanced sharply at the captain. “I would watch my tone if I were you. Have one of your specialists zero in on the planet’s lower western hemisphere. That’s where you’ll land this ship.”
“And you’ll let us go.”
Tunnal met the captain’s gaze with an almost wounded look. “Isn’t that what I said?” He turned away, throwing up a haughty gesture. “Now do as I say. Magnify.”
The captain nodded to a crew person across the bridge.
A second later the image drew closer, until a rocky terrain covered the screen. The picture resolved further, revealing the geometric outlines of buildings and launch-landing platforms.
“Captain,” an officer announced. “There’s a transmission coming from the planet.”
“That’s my good buddy, Hooper!” Tunnal laughed, practically bounding toward the captain’s chair. He looked at the officer, instantly disregarding the pretence of honoring a chain of command. “What the hell are you waiting for? Put my buddy on the screen.”
The officer complied and a man’s heavily bearded visage replaced the planetary vista.
A very prominent scar meandered down the left side of the man’s face, disappearing into his hairy foliage.
“Hooper, you ugly son of a bitch,” Tunnal beamed.
The man exposed a wide, toothy grin. “Don’t be jealous, snake face. About time you showed your pitiful hide in these parts.”
“No argument there. Too much time spent cavorting in Coalition space. I’ve got some serious taint to remove.”
“I’ll tell my staff to prep for your arrival. You and your team’ll have the usual comforts waiting for you.”
Tunnal waved a hand around him. “And you’ll have the latest transportation to add to your inventory.”
Hooper’s eyes glistened with anticipation. “Can’t wait. Transmitting approach vector coordinates.” His image vanished.
Tunnal turned to the captain. “Just follow the coordinates he’s sending. Once we land our business with you will be done.”
The captain kept his face blank, his tone carefully neutral. “My passengers will be allowed to keep their possessions?”
“We’re not petty thieves.” Tunnal glanced at the other hijackers who obviously shared their leader’s amusement. “The ship is all we’re interested in.”

I don't normally rant about consumer electronics.  I don't like cell phones.  Computers are slow, and there's nothing genuinely new under the sun.  However, I'm a gamer, and I've just been insulted.  About a week ago, Microsoft told the world about its upcoming game console, the XBox ONE.  They spoke extensively about all the new features, which were cool, but weren't enough to allay disdain at the "not-so-cool" features, features like it won't play used games. 

For non-gamers, I'll let you know the secret to gaming in poor communities.  It's called GameStop.  It's a retail store dedicated to video games.  It also functions as a pseudo-pawn shop.  When you're tired of playing a video game, you can bring it to them and you'll get store credit towards another video game.  The game you turn in is then sold again as a used game for a slightly lower price.  So if you wonder why Pookie doesn't have a job, but he's knee-deep in video games, this is why. 

What Microsoft is trying to do is stop this practice because, quite frankly, they hate GameStop.  Oh, and poor people.  They obviously hate poor people too.  But this isn't the insult for me, the poor, Black gamer.  No, it isn't.  Even though the XBox ONE has a camera that's ALWAYS on and watching you, in a time where every American can rightly assume that Big Brother is watching them through their Twitter and Facebook accounts; this is not Microsoft's insult to me. 

I can tell you how Microsoft tried to impress me with a Blu-Ray drive in their new machine, even though no one cares about Blu-Ray.  If someone had the excess cash to care about extra sharp pictures on their DVDs, they would wisely buy a Blu-Ray player or an HD TV for this effect.  They would not buy a new game system.  The PS2 and PS3 game systems tried similar tactics, but the DVD drives in those systems were more of a bane than a boon. 

I'll even push aside the fact that the new XBox ONE will not play old XBox 360 games, even though those games were published by the same company for a system that uses the exact same programming language.  Thus if you buy an XBox ONE, you'll have to wait a couple months before you can play more than just one game.  To put this in perspective, a gamer with no spouse or children can finish one video game in 2 days.  I'm married with a kid, so it takes me longer, i.e.,  a week.  It will be MONTHS before you can play more than ONE game on the XBox ONE. 

None of these things alone can compare to the insult Microsoft has tossed in my direction.  What is the insult, you say?  At their press conference, they refused to mention the price of the system.  They said that the price for the XBox ONE would be released at a later date.  Excuse me, Microsoft?  Do you think I'm stupid?  I've been playing video games since 1982.  It's 2013 right now.  That's right.  I've been into games for 31 YEARS, and I'm a young gamer.  You think I, and gamers like myself, don't pay attention to market trends in the video game industry?  Your system is going to cost $600.  You know it.  I know it.  Stop playing games with grown men. 

The average gamer is 35 and is married with kids.  The PS3 was a paperweight with a Blu-Ray drive and wouldn't play old PS2 games.  It cost $600 at launch.  Why is Microsoft pretending that they're not about to make the same mistake?  They're not going under $600 because they want to offset development costs.  They're not going over $600 because they're not completely insane.  Only ignorant children, who have not seen the rise and fall of Sega or the political firestorm set by Mortal Kombat, would sit idly by wondering how much Microsoft's new system is going to cost.  So before they launch their system, (which should be in August or September) let me tell you what's going to happen if they don't want their stock price to fall

1.  They're going to make the system play used games.

2.  It WILL be backwards-compatible (play games from their older systems).

3.  The camera on the system will turn off when I turn off the system. 

These things will happen or the XBox ONE will join the ranks of TurboGraphX 16, Atari Jaguar, 3DO, Sega CD, and the Sega Saturn.  If Microsoft doesn't remember these systems, that's fine.  I've been playing games longer than they've been making them.  I know a paperweight when I see one. 

Buy my new book "Squirrels & Puppies"!! 

Yeah, right

1. USA Today: Second Earth Will Soon Be Needed
2. Bloomberg: Another Earth Needed to Meet Humans' Demand for Resources

Space Industry News:
NASA Testing 3D Printers in Space To Build Spacecraft and Satellites

...realizing, upon original transmission, it should have been "Earl Grey," I just went for it. Too many links to correct now.

Space.com: NASA Funds 3D Pizza Printer Denise Chow, SPACE.com Staff Writer

Hey BSFS!

In celebration of my new website, I am promoting a FREE REVIEW of the prequel to the Caressa Moon Saga, The Memoirs of Amullette Rose this Saturday June 1, 2013 for the BSFS 0nly.  

Visit us, at http://www.rasheedahprioleau.com and sign up for more free offers and exclusive offers regarding my new American Specter Series coming this Fall.  

Mashable Credit - Emily Price

Mashable: Star Trek's Tricorder Becomes Reality with Scanadu's Scout

...as long as you don't mind the methane.

AAAS Science Shot: Easy Hiking, and Biking on Titan

Xerox has a bunch of full-color templates for many business communications documents, including Press Releases.

If you have to put something like that together, and you have little experience in composing compelling business visuals, you might want to take a look at these suggestions for the print-at-home crowd, or for creating your own PDF to take to the local Office MAX, Office Depot, Fed-X/Kinkos, etc.

http://www.office.xerox.com/small-business-templates/enus.html

Additionally, If you're looking for a free - four color separation PDF generator that acts like a printer driver in any version of Microsoft's Windows operating system, I highly recommend this one. It has produced perfect PDF files for any use:

http://www.pdfforge.org/pdfcreator

SAN FRANCISCO (Reuters) - Amazon is once again shaking up traditional publishing models. This time, it's giving fans a chance to add their own personal touches to their favorite fiction - and get paid in the process.

This week, Amazon.com Inc announced "Kindle Worlds," which offers aspiring writers an opportunity to pen their own takes on franchises in books, TV, movies, even games and comics. The world's largest Internet retailer plans to license content, then accept submissions online that may then be sold through its Kindle ebook store.

Things will kick off with Amazon licensing three teen TV series - "Gossip Girl", "Pretty Little Liars" and "The Vampire Diaries" - from Warner Bros Television Group's Alloy Entertainment, Amazon said on its website. More content deals will be announced in coming weeks.

Amazon has in the past decade emerged as the most disruptive force in publishing. It popularized digital books with its Kindle store and e-reader, contributing to the demise of traditional bookstores such as Borders.

In its effort to legitimize fan fiction, the company is establishing a model under which it acts as publisher and pays fan-writers between 20 and 35 percent of sales, depending on length.

"There's probably not an author/fangirl alive who hasn't fantasized about being able to write about her favorite show," budding novelist Trish Milburn enthused on Amazon's website. "The fact that you can earn royalties doing so makes it even better."

(Reporting by Edwin Chan; Editing by Phil Berlowitz)

Physicist Na Young Kim, at the optical bench

Stanford News Service:
Stanford physicists develop revolutionary low-power polariton laser

Dern Lowtower is a passenger on board a sleeper ship, headed to a planet where he'll begin a new job and a new life. A group of ruthless hijackers have different plans, forcing Dern to fight for his life on a journey that takes a bloody turn for the worse!

Interrupted Journey: Part One

Bio displays inside the stasis tube registered an increase in the subject’s heart rate, breathing and neural activity. Dern Lowtower opened his eyes. Fluorescent patches covering his arms and legs vibrated, transmitting soothing muscle regenerative electrical stimulation. Nutrition IVs embedded in his right arm retracted, and the tube’s plas-glass cover slid open.
Dern breathed in deeply, exercising lungs that had not been exerted in quite some time. He sat up, his body bare save for a pair of black shorts. There were six other tubes around him. Covers opened and their occupants rose. Murmurs of greeting resonated throughout the stasis chamber.
An elderly man named Cyril hopped out of his tube.
Dern recalled the retired engineer’s energy and vitality before the voyage. It didn’t surprise him that the man was first in the chamber to set foot on the ship’s rubbery deck.
Their eyes met and Cyril grinned vibrantly. “Did you sleep well young fella?”
Dern climbed out of his tube much less nimbly than the older man. He wasn’t entirely sure that his electrically stimulated legs would hold him up after so much inactivity. He stepped lightly, cautiously to test his limbs sturdiness. “I suppose.”
“It’s your first time in extended stasis. As you can see it’s no different than if you were under for six months,” said Cyril.
“Which, by the way was close to my longest voyage,” Dern replied, heading to the locker room. “I guess five and a years isn’t so bad after all.”
“Except it hasn’t been five and a half years,” a woman named Ura said. She was three tubes to the right of Dern. He didn’t know her history. She had been quiet to the point of withdrawn at the beginning of the journey. Now, her round face radiated concern. “Check your tube chronos, see if the date accords with the reading on mine.”
Dern peeked inside his tube at the chrono display next to the bio-monitor. June 5, 2565. Four years three months. He frowned. “Strange. Our tubes revived us ahead of schedule. There must be a malfunction.”
“Could be faulty programming,” Cyril speculated, or a glitch in the hardware operating the tubes. “I think I’ll take a look.”
His wife, Theresa, gently grabbed his arm and tugged playfully. “The captain has a full staff of capable engineers to handle such matters, honey.”
Cyril looked crestfallen until his wife planted a peck on his cheek. “Let the professionals who aren’t retired deal with this.”
Dern darted into the locker room and hurriedly donned coveralls and soft soled boots. When he stepped out, he headed for the chamber exit. “I’m going to see the captain.”
The section housing the stasis chambers was beginning to fill with newly awakened passengers. The realization that they had been revived prematurely shown vividly on their faces. A few looked to Dern for an explanation, but he was as much in the dark as anyone. On his way to the elevator he met Alita, a ship technician assigned to astrogation. He and the tech went way back, from his days serving on board a system patrol boat.
“Good morning…I guess,” Alita greeted with a gruff air.
Dern understood the sentiment. “We’ve certainly been thrown off. Any idea what caused it?”
“Not a clue. I’m hoping the captain will have answers. I’m anxious to get back to my ‘nap’.”
The two stepped into a lift leading to bridge level and rode in silence. When the door opened rough hands reached into the lift, grabbed Alita and Dern and hustled them onto the bridge.
Dern took quick measure of the situation. Six gunmen, four wielding RI 4 assault rifles, two with semi-automatic Viper pistols, all donning carbon lamellar flak vests and boot-sheathed combat knives. Nine bridge crewmembers, including the captain lay sprawled on the deck, their hands clasped behind their heads.
Dern raised his hands.
“What the hell!” Alita was not so level headed. A spurt of resistance earned her a rifle butt to the base of the skull.
The gunman who issued the blow watched his victim crumple to the deck, then pointed his rifle at her head and snarled. “Bitch.”
Dern stood poised to disarm the criminal before he could get a shot off.
“Stand down, Josik. I don’t think she’ll be a problem from this point on.”
A gunman Dern presumed to be the leader of this gang stepped forward. His blond close-cropped hair was as sharply cut as the angled contour of his jawline. Ice blue eyes cut deeply into Dern, assessing, dissecting. “You won’t be a problem either, will you?”
Dern put on his most passive face. “No. Not at all.”
The leader’s gaze lingered on Dern like a toxic fog for a few more seconds. Finally, he turned away, gesturing. “Get them on their feet.”
The criminals grabbed crewmembers, hoisting them upright.
The leader approached the captain. “Turn on the monitors. I want everyone here to see video feeds of the stasis level.”
Dern glimpsed the bruises on the captain’s face.
Evidently, these criminals were as impatient with the captain as they were with Alita.
The captain flicked a look at an officer and nodded.
The officer moved nervously to a console and tapped a control.
Display screens above the console flashed to life, showing harrowing images of armed thugs terrorizing passengers.
Dern’s jaw clenched.
“My name is Tunnal,” the leader announced. “As you can see, my associates and I have taken control of this ship. You were scheduled to arrive at Ceres 3 in little over a year’s time. There’s been a change of destination.”
“Impossible,” the captain snapped. “The coordinates to Ceres 3 were programmed into the guidance computer at the beginning of this journey and locked in. No one can alter the destination once a ship of this class is in motion.”
Tunnal shot a hard, but mirthful gaze at the captain. “And yet here we are. Check for yourself.”
The captain brushed past a criminal and pulled up a star chart on the locator screen. His face went slack. He stepped back, looking at the leader with wary eyes. “What do you want?”
“Your cooperation first of all. After that we’ll settle for your ship.” Tunnal pointed to a star shaped icon on the chart. “This is where we’re going. System 382.”
The captain’s brow knitted, befuddled. “There’s nothing there.”
“That’s the problem with you ship captains,” Tunnel said in a tone dripping contempt. “Nothing exists unless you say it does.”
Alita stirred and Dern, disregarding the guns on him, knelt down to her. “You alright?”
Alita squinted in pain, rubbing the soreness on the back of her head. “Dern…?”
“Shhh…don’t try to talk…”
“That’s right,” Tunnal interjected coldly. “Don’t try to talk. Whatever your duty is on this ship, get to it. That goes for the rest of you. We’re going to the 4th planet in that system. Do what you’re trained to do to get us there as quickly as possible.” He focused on Dern. “You’re not dressed like a crew member.”
Dern forced an amicable grin. “Oh…I just came here to see what was going on. I’m a passenger.”
“Well, now you know.” Tunnal beckoned a large brute of a gunman forward. “Welch, escort our curious passenger back to the stasis level.”
The brute nodded a granite head. “No problem, boss.”
“What are you going to do with us?” The captain asked.
“Nothing as long you’re well behaved. We’re going to make a stop on the planet, drop you off and borrow your ship. Don’t worry. You won’t be stranded. We’ll leave you with a long range transmitter so you can contact a rescue patrol.”
The large gunman prodded Dern with the muzzle of his rifle. Dern walked toward the lift, suppressing an aching urge to glare at Tunnel. Stay calm, don’t piss the bastard off and we may all get through this alive. He wasn’t entirely convinced of that.

LIGO Hanford Observatory

Ars Technica:
Proposed bill that would regulate NSF research funding faces backlash
Scientists not amused, bill's backers appear confused.
by John Timmer

Don't forget "Squirrels & Puppies" in paperback or ebook format!

Argonne National Laboratory:
Graphene layers dramatically reduce wear and friction on sliding steel surfaces

May 12th, 2013

For Immediate Release

Contact

Justin Martin, creator, writer

rsquaredcomicz@gmail.com

www.rsquaredcomicz.com

Justin Martin of R-Squared Comicz

Announces the Release of Lightweightz: The Anthology Part Two

Justin Martin, educator, writer and founder of R-Squared-Comicz is proud to release Lightweightz: The Anthology Part Two, available today for purchase as a pdf on www.rsquaredcomicz.com. It is drawn and colored by Przemyslaw R. Dedelis and Lya, respectively. “Przemyslaw and Lya did an amazing job for [Lightweightz: The Anthology] Part One, and...are blowing my mind in new ways [with] Part Two,” says creator and writer Justin Martin.

Based on 1 Corinthians 12:7 ("Now to each one the manifestation of the spirit is given for the common good"), Part Two introduces readers to the remaining four Lightweightz, teenagers who discover they have unique abilities. As with Part One, Part Two focuses on the impact these abilities have on their lives, and their struggles in making sense of them. Each struggle is unique, and holds significant implications for who they will become.

It begins with Ayden the pusher, who begins to see just how much control he has over his situation. Next is Qasim the revealer, who's determined to use his ability to help others, despite the toll it takes on his personal life. There's Emi the adapter, who learns the hard way that it’s not about the ability, but about what you do with it. And finally there’s Gabriel the inscriber, whose ability makes him one of the most hunted and important characters for the events to come. “This time around, I wanted their abilities to be more central to their story, and for the stories to be a little more action-oriented,” says creator and writer Justin Martin. “Hopefully I’ve achieved these goals, and more importantly, convinced [readers] to care about each character.”

With Ayden's desire for significance, Qasim's commitment to doing the right thing, Emi's need to belong, and Gabriel's renewed purpose, Part Two gives readers a look into what motivates each character, and what lies ahead. And with a diverse group of characters and experiences, there’s something for everyone. So grab your copy, and let your light shine!

R-Squared Comicz was founded in 2010 by Justin Martin with the purpose of creating quality comics from a Christian worldview. Justin has a Master's in Education, and is currently pursuing his PhD in Education. His research involves the social and moral judgments of adolescents and college students. In addition to Lightweightz, he is working on other comics, which you can learn more about on his website.