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I am GIVING AWAY one paperback edition of ‘Veterans of the Psychic Wars’. Read the first 8 chapters FREE from Amazon, Smashwords or fReado. More information here.

Answer the following questions for a chance to win the novel:

1) Name two of the planets engaged in the Second Psychic War.

2) Who is the Butcher of Cyclo?

3) Name two forms of alien martial arts used in the story.

4) Supply the make and model of one of the vehicles ‘borrowed’ by Chi-Ro Jin.

5) Tie breaker: Who is your favourite character and why?

Use this link to send your answers via the official Red Moon site.


The winner will be announced 6th February 2011, here on this website. All decisions final.

 
Read more…

Calif System

CALIF

 

 

By

 

 

 DERRICK L. HAWKINS

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

 

 

 

    

     “Fucking Marines,” Emperor Sol the Fifteenth grimaced. Thirteen ships of the line left gutted, almost literally stripped to the frame, crews put out in life pods while those vile creatures looted and pillaged the empires hard work. He forced his fingers to relax on the kindle even though there was no way to damage one that he knew of. Save his strength for things he could do something about.

“How many this time.” He spoke to the large robed figure that slipped into the room behind him. Inquisitor General Kalmar was his most trusted aide but the man still gave him the shivers sometimes. The dark eyes, bald pate with the lights of his enhancements flickering gave him an otherworldly aura.

          “Thirty three are unaccounted for and presumed to have gone over to the other side.” Kalmar stood the proscribed distance behind and to his left but not at the required position of attention. Sol smoothed the frown from his face with a soft sigh, after so many years the man was entitled to some liberties, as long as he did not take them too far.

     “Have we been able to find any relatives, friends?” He already knew the answer. The Marines planned their strikes with precision and careful planning with not a lot of wiggle room. They would have already collected all ties to keep them from being used against them.

“Despite knowing what to look for we were unable to get to them in time. A brilliant misdirection if I-“

“You may not say so. You said you could squash these bugs in a few years Kalmar.”

“Every attempt has been and is being made my lord. Unfortunately every successful incursion into the empires affairs makes them that much more the hero.”

“It probably doesn’t help our cause that they go out of their way not to kill anyone,” Sol muttered.

“Whereas our forces are not as selective.” Sol glared at the taller man in the reflection of the armorplas.

“I’ll give you that,” he agreed reluctantly. “The empire cannot be seen as weak, Kalmar. You of all people should know this.” He got the nod he expected. “Now tell me of this replacement for my fleet commander.”

      “Captain Dyvid Westy. From a loyal, if not notable, EAF(Army)family. The private first came to notice taking command of a destroyer when the bridge crew was killed in the Marines exodus eleven years ago.”

“I assume that since he is now a captain that went well?”

“He is credited with the destruction of five enemy ships with his own barely operable.”

“And the reason I’m just now hearing about him?”

“He was promoted to second lieutenant and placed in command of the ship-“

“Serious?” Sols eyebrows rose in surprise. “A boot in charge of a ship of the line?”

“It was expected, I can only assume, that command expected him to fail. To that end he was exiled to the Third Revenue Enforcement Service.”

     “Nothing like being punished for out-performing your superiors,” Sol chuckled.

“Unfortunately for them he turned the Third into a feared unit. He has a long list of successful raids against both pirates and Marines. His intel has helped other forces bring thousands of Marines to justice.”

     “Discipline?”

“He runs a tight fleet-“

“Fleet? Since when does a single destroyer constitute a fleet?”

“Fleet command occasionally lets him have a ship or two that is scheduled for the scrap yards. Generally, he simply confiscates pirate and Marine ships as they come along. At last count he had thirteen but as high as thirty.”

“Loyalty?”

“To you? Total.”

“That too but I mean his men. How far into deaths lair would they follow him?”

“They’ve been well into the lobby several times,” Kalmar assured him with a tight smile. “Integrating them into the new fleet would buoy those that may be disheartened.”

     Sol called up a screen on his kindle that looked into a cell deep in the bowels of the emperial palace on Earth. The former commander of his new fleet was stubborn and well trained to resist interrogation but even the stoutest man wilted when his family was put to the same methods. Surprisingly the man only caved after his youngest daughter was gang raped. He keyed in the order. In another five minutes the signal would reach its destination and soon after the traitor would be introduced to the recyclers. Good riddance.

     “I’d like to see my newest commander before I send him out.” Kalmar’s expression went vacant for a moment as he accessed the network and sent the order.

“He should be here within the week.”

     Sol reached down to rub the head of one the Rottweiler’s he kept with him but remembered he'd left them on Earth as too conspicuous for traveling incognito. As much as the best known and feared face in Sol space could. The Rotties were his true friends, they wouldn't turn on him. Inquisitor Kalmar was a Rottie in human form, vicious and loyal but he never let it slip his mind that the man had his own goals not even the Emperor was privy too. He'd have to do something about that upon his return.

     “A penny for your thoughts your highness?” He turned fully to the Inquisitor and leaned against the armorplas port.

     Inquisitors were first designed by Emperor Sol the Seventh as his personal bodyguards. They were specially designed with mental abilities that allowed them to make the best use of the hardware nano-grown into their bodies. Not everyone could handle those kinds of changes; there was a substantial failure rate even among Inquisitors who have made it through the incubation and training. Each death natural or man-made was several million credits gone to waste. Unfortunately the once secret cloning facility had undergone a change in ownership when the SyHu's commandeered it fifteen years ago, rather than go all out he simply directed Kalmar to make sure they had eyes and ears. So far so good.

     All Inquisitors were gene engineered to be at least six feet tall, Kalmar was six feet nine, not unheard of in this day and age where families had their genes engineered for whatever qualities they desired. But with ship space at a premium there was no need to have a crew six feet plus when average had a better fit. Kalmar was a large man, muscular by his own rights and probably the single most dangerous man in the empire as far as Sol was concerned. Those types of people Sol did his best to eradicate before they became a problem. Kalmar would be a challenge since it was he the empire went to take care others. Might be best to have him as far away from the upcoming trouble as he could, deal with it when he returned. By then there would be some one to take his place.

     “The fleet is prepared to depart Kalmar?” He made a show of looking at the kindle. “Have you seen these reports?”

     “It is,” the large man was at his side in the blink of an eye. Sol looked up in annoyance. “I’ve seen the reports. As usual Sector Governor Talbot appears to be on the warpath.”

     “I think its time there was a new Belts governor. Production has been on a steady slide while the number of pirate outposts in his area has risen the same amount. If I didn't know any better I'd say Talbot is in bed with the enemy.”

     “He’s complaining hard about captain Westy’s invasion of his territory. Obviously he has something to hide.” Kalmar gestured at the kindle in Sols hand, the screen flickered and Commander Westy's file came up.

     “You think he's mature enough for this kind of responsibility?” Sol scrolled thru the file noting all the complaints lodged against the man, lately from Talbot and those under his command, and the long string of successes. “Looks like the good captain has had some help.” He frowned at the inquisitor, some of the exploits listed he could hardly believe had been accomplished with the resources of the Third RES. The entire Third should've been sent to the scrappers decades ago, personnel and all. Fortunately it was a convenient place to send undesirables to keep them out of the way of progress. Lieutenant Commander Zant for one.

     “Lieutenant Commander Zant. Now there’s a man who deserves to spend the rest of his career in the farthest outpost we have. How do they get along?”

“My sources say its strained at the best of times. Zants applied for ten transfers since Westy took command; all refused of course, no one wants Zants’ stench on their command.”

     “You’d think the man would be grateful to be part of something good. By the time you return the empire will be cleansed of people like him.”

“Back?”

“I’ve decided to send you along with the fleet, Kalmar. I need eyes and ears and a steady hand.”

     “I’m sure you have plenty of those in various-“

“This is not a discussion, Inquistor General. Be prepared to depart with the fleet when Westy arrives.” Kalmar gave an abrupt bow and floated out without so much as a by your leave.

 

Third Revenue Enforcement Service

Commander Westy. Dragons Breath

 

     Commander Dyvid Westy was bored. He slouched unprofessionally in the captains chair while the quiet work of the ship went on around him. He had them on a dull patrol route previously cleansed of pirates and other traitors to the empire to give them an easy go of it after three grueling months clearing out pirates nests in the Belts Sector. And constantly doing end runs around that sectors governor and the rest of the bureaucrats who were making a mighty fine profit from catering to the very people they were suppose to be eradicating. Still, he sighed, governor Talbot was a powerful if annoying man, his sector supplied over half of the materials the emperor required to build ships. No doubt his report to the emperor wasn't going to be glowing. He didn't dare think just because there wasn't any word in the last two weeks that he forgot to complain.

     Besides adding another crossed out pirates graphic on the hull he added five former pirate vessels to his ragtag fleet of obsoletes bringing the grand total to seventeen. Let every one spread out from close quarters a little bit. He for one could use it. He should've posted his exec to one of the ships-too late now.

     Every one except lieutenant commander Zant considered this a posting that signaled the end of their career. Most made the best of things since it beat hell out of simmering in one of the emperors gene-tanks. Zant was still under the impression that those glowing fitreps were a true glimpse into the man that was him. They were at odds for a number of reasons the least being Dyvid wrote honest fitreps.   

     Zant had extraordinary skill in avoiding the heavy lifting while making it seem like he was doing it all by himself. Maybe now that the Third had a name people wanted to be associated with they all might have a slim chance at decent postings. Or maybe the emperor would send them to the recyclers, ships, crew and all and start over fresh.

     “Hopefully I'm not stabbing us all in the foot,” he chuckled out loud. “Just thinking how nice it'd be to have a ship that works most of the time,” he answered Zants questioning look.

     “I second that. People are putting in requests to move to one of the new ships in droves. They might be lowlifes but their equipment is first rate. And in case you hadn't noticed, the main viewer is down for good. We might be able to hack out some repairs from one of the other ships.”

     “I had wondered about that but I was too comfortable to ask. You know, I've been thinking about splitting the fleet. Eight and eight with an overall  command ship. I think its time you had a couple of ships under your direct command. Give you something to do besides hassle people about your fiancée.”

     “Well, I finally made some headway in that,” Zant jumped on the subject like a lifesaver. “One of my contacts finally came thru,” he paused for dramatic affect. Dyvid put on his 'I'm the interested boss' expression. “Turns out she's among those people that got caught up thirteen years ago when the Marines went rogue.”

     “Son of a bitch.” This was the most interesting thing Zant had ever said about his fiancée “That means she got dragged off to the Calif System with them. I can only imagine what kind of barbaric things they've done to her and all the other hostages.”

     “I can imagine,” Zant shivered. “And I don't like it. Unfortunately there's nothing I can do about it.”   “The only thing you can do is rid this system of the scourge.” He waved a waiting comtec over.

     “Sir, com from headquarters,” he handed him the stik and stepped smartly back. Westy looked at the personalized design on the cylinder that showed the messages origination. He sat up from his slouched position abruptly with a sharp curse. Zant mumbled a what now.

     “Is this right?” The tec nodded somberly. “Thank you, I'll read it right here.” He slipped the small cylinder into the chairs data slot and entered his private code to unlock the message.

     The image of the Inquisitor General himself dissolved onto the small screen. For some reason his pleased look scared Westy more than a scowl would have. He instinctively sat straighter as if the bald imposing figure could see him. You never knew with Inquisitors, especially this one.

     “Commander Westy you are directed to these coordinates at best possible speed. Message ends.” The stiks colors swirled and settled to bright white to signify its contents had been erased.

     “Get right to the point why don't you.” He keyed the coordinates into his console. “Helm plot a course for these coordinates. Best speed.” The comtec acknowledged the order as well and notified the rest of the fleet of their new destination.

     “I don't recognize those coordinates,” Lieutenant Commander Zant checked them on his own board. “Its going to take us at least two weeks with those ships in tow.”

     “Then that's the best possible speed. Personally I'm in no hurry to be any where near Inquisitors ” he said loud enough for whoever hadn't been whispered to by now. It wasn't usually a good thing to be summoned by the emperors right hand man.

     “He looked like he was in a good mood if that's any indication of anything.” Westy chuckled.

     “That's probably because we've been ordered to the recyclers,” Zant sighed. “The emperor finally got tired of all the complaints you've generated over the years.” He looked at Westy. “On the other hand it'd be nice to finally have some ships up to date- at least more recent than these relics. Any hint what he wants us for?”

     “No doubt the debacle with Sector governor Talbot has finally reached the highest levels,” he chuckled softly. “But, I think the rest of the fleet is in the clear mister Zant. I gave the orders. You, however may be standing beside me on the carpet as my second.” He thoroughly enjoyed the panic on Zants face.

     “Be that as it may sir? Perhaps now you'll listen to me when I speak about annoying people we need to be friends with. Considering the condition of the Third and the availability of parts-”

     “We can get parts and pieces from the pirates. They seem to have a better supply chain than the empire, certainly better than we get. Hell we've confiscated ships from them. We don't need some annoying fat ass sector governors supplies. If I were you I wouldn't stand too long in his corner. We found enough pirates operating unchecked in his sector that it wouldn't surprise me if he's standing next to us.”

     “You have made quite a lot of enemies in your time  Dyvid. Maybe its finally caught up to you.” His expression said he was praying hard. It was going to be a long two weeks.

 

     Sleep wasn't coming, he was anxious to get the days events over and done with. He never was good at waiting for punishment. He looked over at the time, they were do at the IG's coordinates in the next few hours, may as well get a start on the day.

     He rolled out of bed, gave some thought to his best uniform then went with the everyday one. He was a soldier and he'd look like it even on his death march.

Lieutenant commander Zant had the down shift, he always had on a sharply creased uniform, somehow he never managed to get it dirty no matter what was going on.

     “Anything interesting to report?” He settled into his chair and logged into the system. “This is the day of reckoning, Zant. Are you up to it?” He knew the man wasn't by the stressed look he had on his face the last two weeks. The closer they got the greener he seemed to get.

     “The viewers fixed, who knows how long that’s going to last, all the back ends scrapped out. Nothing that needs your attention. Just a few scrapes, every ones nervous to be getting close to the emperor. You never know what he knows about you.”

     “You can bet your ass if he doesn't know it there's an inquisitor nearby happy to give him any particulars. Whats in your closet, Zant? Anything else I need to worry about?”

     “I've performed my duties admirably. I have nothing to fear.”

     “Your face says other wise. Commander Zant, I relieve you,” he said formally. The ships ancient AI transferred command systems to Dyvid and brought up the illumination and systems for the day shift.

     Zant put his boards in standby and stepped from the dais, “We're a few hours a head of schedule. We'll be arriving within an hour-”

     “Sir, sensors are picking up a ship on approach,” the sensor-tec broke in. Westy swiveled his chair to face the man. “The configuration isn't in our database and their coming in hot.”

     “Red alert, all hands to battle stations!” Westy swiveled his chair back and locked it in place. All over the bridge others secured their own chairs for combat. “Weapons?”

     “At your command, sir.”

     “Well, lets see if they're willing to talk. Open a ch-”

     “This is Captain T'Shan of the Razorfist. This is a restricted area. State your business or be destroyed.” Westy and Zant exchanged glances.

     “Sir, I'm detecting more ships-” The sensor-tec snapped.

     “How many?” Zant asked.

     “Fifty eight.”

     “Seems the odds are in Captain T'Shans favor,” Dyvid sighed. “This is Commander Dyvid of the Third Revenue Enforcement Service ship Dragons Breath.”

     “Please proceed. Any deviations will be destroyed.”

     “Thank you Captain T'Shan. May I inquire about your ship?”

     “Yes.” The channel closed.

     “She needs some work on her conversation skills,” Dyvid muttered. “Helm pass the word and tuck us in behind her.” On the screen Razorfist wheeled around gracefully and began picking up speed.

     “What class do you reckon that is commander?”

     “We've been out so long I wouldn't begin to hazard a guess, sir.” Zant typed rapid-fire at his console trying to come up with something but gave up after a few minutes with a shrug.

     “Lets just hope they stay on our side,” Dyvid worked his own console. “That one ship outguns three-quarters of our fleet. She'd barely break a sweat putting us out of our misery.”

     Razorfist set a leisurely pace, sensors didn't show any other RES ships but he knew that could change at any moment so he set his fleet to making ready for the inevitable inspections. He dreaded inspections the desk jockeys used to justify their continued existence. They were so damn nit-picky, even with the stack of operational fitness waivers, maybe especially.

     “Maybe we're finally getting new ships,” Zant sighed. “I bet this is one of the emperors secret yards. He has them all over the system you know.”

     “I'd be surprised if we're allowed to keep our captures. Some higher echelon barnacles will end up confiscating them for official use.” Dyvid made an easy-come-easy-go gesture.

     “I can just hear the tall tales now about how they wrested the ships from the biggest meanest two hundred pirates and Marines there ever was.”

     “Do I detect some animosity mister Zant? That's very unlike you.” Dyvid chuckled.

     “I'm like every other fighting man, sir. I hate uptight self-important desk riders who take credit for others hard work.” He was so intent on his rant that he didn't notice the looks of disbelief on most faces.

     “Be that as it may we still have to be on our best behavior.”

 

     “What? I'm going where?” Selby stared slack jawed at her uncle not sure she just heard what she thought she just heard.

     “I'm sending you with the RazorFist to the Calif system. I need a representative.”

     “All those ships and people and you don't have any one to represent you?” She squalled. She hopped out of her seat and began pacing swiftly. “I have a life here, uncle, in case you hadn't noticed? Me and Sparm are engaged!” Sparm was her third love interest, she was looking serious about this one though.

     “I've noticed and I have a bit of bad news for you in that regard.” he cleared his throat and spoke quick. “Lieutenant Sparm-” He didn't have the heart to tell her he'd been implicated in the sabotage of the fleet and subsequently given to the genetecs. He really should have at least given her the evidence, he mightn't let the young man off with exile in a solo-ship headed out-system. But he didn't and had to cover his actions with another elaborate lie. He really shouldn't give a care but he was very fond of his only niece.

     “I had to promote him into a vacant slot. You know how fond I was of him, Selby. He had the skills I needed so I used him. Don't look at me like that. The needs of the empire always come before the needs of the individual. You know that.”

     “I know,” she sighed. “But, I really liked him.”

     “I know you did, sweetie,” and therein lie the problem. “He promised to keep in touch. After he works out the issues the previous commander couldn't.” Her eyes lit up.

     “You made him a commander?” She leaped into his arms. “Thank you uncle Sol!”

     “I do what I can favorite niece.”

     “I'm your only niece unless there's something your not telling me?” She stood back with fists on hips.    “Your the only one, still. But, down to business. I want you to keep an eye on Essie.”

     “I know there was a catch.” She smiled “Why didn't you just say that in the first place? Of course I'll keep an eye on him. I do that anyway. Have you told him?”

     “He's not talking to me. As usual.”

     “No wonder with all the stuff you have him doing to 'prepare him for his destiny',” she intoned with a deep voice that made him smile.

     “He has to be ready, Selby.”

     “I know, uncle. I'll let him know. You know him he probably already knows. If he's learned anything from you its how to 'cultivate sources'.” She laughed at his stern expression. “How long do we have until you ship us off?”

     “Razorfists new commander is enroute-say five hours?” She gave him a pout and gently shoved him out the door complaining about all the things she had to pack in the amount of time he gave her.

     “That went well,” Sol whispered to his bodyguard who'd personally escorted the understandably reluctant  lieutenant to the stations genetics. “Lets pray she never finds out.”

     “I'm not much for prayer, sir.” The man said with all seriousness. “My parents are Scientholics,” he said as if that was all the explanation required. He wasn't the brightest but he was trustworthy with some of the touchier things he needed done around the empire.

     “Sir, commander Westy has arrived.” His gaze vacant as he accessed the information on his VIOD.

     “Excellent. I'll meet them in the landing bay.” The man relayed the message and fell in half a step behind him.

     Commander Westy wasn't what Sol was expecting even after reading the mans file. He was perfectly ordinary, once he left you'd be hard pressed to remember he was even there. That was the makings of the perfect spy. Maybe after he returned from Calif he'd have a new job for him. He ignored lieutenant commander Zant and stopped in front of Westy.

     “Commander Westy,” Sol nodded perfunctorily at the commanders deep bow. “I know you were expecting Inquisitor general Kalmar, sorry to disappoint you,” he tried a disarming smile. Westy nodded nervously but didn't return the smile.

     “The request was sent on my behalf. Your fleet has been out of range for quite a while, if you'll forgive me for getting right down to business?”

     “Of course, your highness,” Westy tried to stay the proscribed full step behind him but Sol pulled him even with him and put his arm around his shoulder like old friends reunited. The guards smoothly prevented Zant from joining his commander.

     “I have a mission for you commander Westy. A very sensitive and of utmost importance to the empire. You and the Third have exhibited some exceptional strategic prowess in dealing with the pirates and the Marines, that's the kind of thing I need for this. Can I count on you?”

     “I'm honored, your highness. And speechless. What's the nature of the mission, my lord?”

     “Ah,” he clapped him roughly on the back, “I like a commander who doesn't jump in unprepared! Most of my other commanders would've agreed without knowing any of the details. That just proves I've picked the right man for the job.”

     “Thank you sir, whatever it is you require I'll try not to disappoint you.”

     “See that you don't.” He softened the threat with a grin. “But you might not thank me after you hear what it is.”

     Commander Westy and lieutenant commander Zant listened intently as Emperor Sol outlined what he wanted done. Westy was all smiles while Zant seemed to have reservations about most of it.

     “That's quite a bit of responsibility for the Third, sir. There has to be any number of fleets better equipped to handle that sort of mission.” Westy leaned back in his chair running a hand thru his hair.

     “Your royal and august highness,” Zant said full of authority into the silence, “even if we were to undertake such a mission none of the Third is equipped with String Drives. Even with them a trip that long is ten years subjective time, two years ship-”

     “I am aware of the math, lieutenant commander Zant,” Sol said dangerously. He locked eyes with the man until Zant looked away. “I have a solution to that problem, captain Westy. Westy's head snapped up.

     “It just so happens that the flagship Razorfist is in need of a captain. I can't think of any one more qualified to command her than you. Congratulations.”

     “I'm speechless, your highness.” He lapsed into silence.

     “Who's to take command of the Third?” Zant straightened noticeably.

     “I'll leave that decision in the hands of Captain Westy. Effective immediately the Third Fleet of the Revenue Enforcement Service is attached to the First Army Expeditionary Force. I'm sure Captain Westy will do whats best for the Third.” As he stood the stations AI was sending out the orders. He put out his hand to Westy.

     “Well, Captain Westy, your ship awaits. I've gathered the finest people of all disciplines to staff the fleet, I expect you to make sure their ready when they reach Calif.”

     “I'll give the fleet commander whatever assistance he requires.”

     “I'm sure that you will,” Sol chuckled softly.

 

     “I'm not sure I liked the smile on his face as we left,” Zant whispered as they left the emperor and his people behind on their way back to the shuttle bay. “I especially don't like he left the Third hanging in limbo like that.”

     “He attached us to the fleet, that's not exactly in limbo Ulysis.”

     “He attached us to the fleet, your the captain of Razorfist and not even in our chain of command anymore.”

     “Actually,” Dyvid grinned, “he did say he was leaving the disposition of the Third in my hands. If that’s not putting me in the chain of command I don't know what would.”

     “So, who's going to be the new commander? Some one who's been with the fleet for some time I would hope.”

     “Despite the emperors edict having the word of law, he's not going to be with us on the mission. I don't want to get started on the wrong foot with fleet commander by appointing a replacement without at least his consent.” He touched Zant on the arm lightly, “don't worry though, your the first one on the list. You've been waiting long enough.”

     They paused next to the obsolete shuttle from Dragons Breath to shake hands and wish each other good luck.

     “Captain Westy,” a black woman with captains rank approached them. He was momentarily taken aback by her lack of hair when baldness had been eradicated centuries ago. “Congratulations on your appointment, I'm-”

     “Captain T'Shan. I recognize the voice.” He looked at her rank pinned to her ample bosom then back up to her face hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt. “Um-”

     “I've been directed to escort you to your new command, our shuttle is over there,” she hooked a thumb over he shoulder at a dangerous looking flat black shuttle with guards at both open hatches while station personnel loaded last minute supplies.

     “God speed, captain Westy,” Zant shook his hand then stepped into his shuttle where the pilot was beginning pref-light checks.

     “Captain,” T'Shan turned smartly and headed for the shuttle. Westy hurried to keep pace with her. “Inquisitor General Kalmar speaks highly of you, he's not one to give his blessing lightly.”

     “From what I've heard he's not the kind to give any blessing.”

     “He has his moments but he's human just like the rest of us.” She chuckled, “Mostly anyway.” She waited for him to proceed her into the shuttle then spent a few moments talking to the guard.

     He passed through the airlock, none of his shuttles had airlocks they were so old, every body had to suit up if even one person was going into vacuum.   The interior was spacious compared to what he was use to, the miracle of modern nanotechnology shrank a lot of components that other wise would have encroached. The results were mostly smooth bulkheads of metal and plastic. The auto-doc area was hard and unforgiving, and a lot smaller than he was use to but then only one of his shuttles even had one (and he confiscated that one from pirates) but at least it looked up to date and had a door to seal it off from the rest of the shuttle.

     “We're ready to go,” T'Shan came in with the guard plus several more he hadn't noticed. “Any last minute issues? Your pretty much ass out if you have any special supplies you want.”

     “No thank you, I'm good,” he made to sit in one of the chairs but she waved him to the cockpit. She sat in the co-pilots seat and swiveled to face him. He took the pilots seat and looked over the board.

     Most shuttles were laid out the same way in the cockpit even if some of the controls were smaller or touch instead of toggles and switches and levers. He was surprised that a newer model shuttle still had positive feel controls. He preferred to know when he pressed a button without having to look at it.

     “I haven't been checked out in the newer models.”

     “Then I suggest you not run into anything,” she turned to her own board and started the pref-light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

 

 

 

 

     “Come on Essie, the ships going to leave without us!” She tugged his arm to pull him to his feet. He was a handsome young man but couldn't keep a girlfriend for more than a couple of weeks before his bad attitude and lack of motivation ran them off. Then there was always the ever present fear of the emperor looming over any relationship either of them had. He had the bad habit of culling the herd and not being subtle about it.

     Emperor Sol the sixteenth was eighteen years old just a month ago, five feet eleven, the shortest would-be ruler by a good five inches, he had a good build only because his father insisted on a rigorous exercise routine of martial arts and physical fitness training to round out the ten hours a day of education in everything he might need in order to rule the empire. He was a reluctant student at best but absorbed every detail of every lesson while pretending not to. Needless to say he got on every body's nerves in the worst way.

     He casually pushed his hair out of his face and linked his fingers behind his head to grin up at her.

     “I seriously doubt any ones leaving without us, we're what they call supercargo.” He drolled. She rolled her eyes and kicked his leg until he grumbled.     “I'm going, I'm going, hell, you act like your in a hurry or something.”

     “We are, uncle Sol said we had five hours to pack and be on the ship. That was nine hours ago. Your lucky he hasn't sent some of his goons to help us along.”

     “You mean to help me along?”

     “Yeah, you, now get a move on already. If I hear another lecture about how I'm suppose to make sure your ready to take the throne I'm going to assassinate him myself. Besides, you know you want to go, get away from uncle for a while?”

     “Last time I checked the Calif system was more than a while away. Its gonna take us two years to get there. Hopefully by the time we get back things will have changed around here.”

     “Oh stop it, by the time you get back your probably going to be the next emperor.”

     “Yeah, right. The only reason he's sending me away is so he can hatch a replacement that's easier to get along with and train. Some one who doesn't have a mind of his own.”

     “Your going to be a real pain in the ass, aren't you Essie?” He grinned in answer, she sighed and stalked down the hall in front of his sarcastic laugh.

     “Wait up, sis,” he linked arms and matched her stride. “I can't get excited about being kicked out of the nest like you are.”

     “What are you talking about? This is the opportunity of a life time, Essie. How many people get to go to another solar system?”

     “You mean besides the hundred or so thousand Marines? Not to mention the thousands of people that abandoned the empire a couple centuries ago?”

     “Don't be a smart ass, smart ass. This is from uncle Sol,” she handed him a stik with the emperors personal seal on it. “He said the security seal won't let you open it for two weeks,” she shrugged at his questioning look. He took it and slipped it into one of the hundreds of tiny pockets he'd sewn into his favorite ship-suit. He'd have it opened and read as soon as he got a minute alone.

     “Probably telling me never to come back,” he mumbled mostly to himself. She stopped and gave him a brief hug that took him by surprise but he let out a deep sigh. “Thanks sis, your the best as usual. Sorry you have to babysit me for the rest of your your life.”

     “I'm just keeping you out of trouble until you become the emperor. So far so good, no major catastrophe's. That I know of.” She wrinkled her nose at him. He returned her expression perfectly. “Not going to confess to anything are you?”

     “Hell no!” He laughed. “First rule of emperorshipism is never confess to doing anything wrong, especially if you have.”

     “Emperorshipism? Is that even a word?” She shoved him playfully. “Knowing you you probably already put it in the official language database.” She sighed at his grin. “When are you going to put those slicing skills to good use, Essie?”

     “Who says I haven't?” He said softly. She narrowed her eyes at him but no more information was forthcoming. He looped his arm in hers and propelled them along.

     The shuttle bay was busy with people and machinery but neither one saw any sign of a royal send off. Selby was both relieved and angry that Sol would let them go without one final word or even a hug. She risked a glance at Essie but his face was carefully blank.

     As they neared the shuttle inquisitor general Kalmar came down the short ramp of an adjacent shuttle.

     “Out of all the people uncle Sol could've sent did he have to send you?” Selby frowned up at the inquisitor general. “Don't you have something else to do? This isn't the shuttle we were assigned to.”

     “I'm sure you were expecting a royal send off but his highness has other matters to attend. Besides, I convinced him you're both self sufficient enough not to need any last minute pampering. I took it on myself to upgrade you to a shuttle befitting someone of both your exalted ranks. You'll find everything you need aboard along with your belongings,” Selby recognized some of her luggage being hauled from the other shuttle as he spoke.

     “I'm sure it didn't take much to convince him to 'attend to other matters' as far as I was concerned,” Essie snapped.

     Ignoring the comment, Kalmar continued. “At the moment I'm making sure both of you make it off the station and onto the ship safe and sound. Your highness,” he made a sweeping bow that was completely unlike him.

     “Don't be a smart ass, Kalmar,” Selby grumbled. She tugged Essie up the ramp into the shuttle. She made a quick tour then stomped back to the ramp where Kalmar waited expectantly.

     “Where the hell is the crew? You expect us to run this thing by ourselves?” She stomped down the ramp to him. He grinned down at her. She put fists on hips trying not to smile. While every one in the solar system feared this one man above the emperor she actually liked him for some reason. “Jack ass.”

     “Unless my information is incorrect, and it rarely is, you and his highness are perfectly qualified to pilot and you hardly need the usual crew for such a short journey.” She glared harder.

     “If I find you a pilot your destination is going to be Heavens Bain.” He paused a moment to let her imagine the next two years working and studying pretty much non-stop. She let out a sigh and deflated.

     “This shuttle is equipped with all the luxuries your use to plus a few extras I hope that you never have need of. Now is the time to stop being the spoiled, protected princess. Use the skills the empire has been giving you for free the last nineteen years. Both of you.” His gaze shifted to one side of her as Essie moved to the top of the ramp. She stomped back up the ramp, gave one final look over her shoulder at Kalmar.

     “Your a jerk,” she slapped her palm on the ramp controls. Just before the hatch sealed she stuck out her tongue. Kalmar chuckled. “What?” She pushed past Essie.

     “I swear you two are like husband and wife or something. He's more feared than Sol himself but your always antagonizing him. Least he's not going with us.” He stopped dead in his tracks. “He's not going with us is he?”

     “With any luck we won't be seeing much of him the next two years. You know how the inquisitors like their privacy.” She sat in the pilots seat and mumbling it was just like that bald headed ass to send her off in a ship with cold engines. She shot a rude glance at Essie chuckling softly but at least he went thru the pre-flight flawlessly. She suppressed an angry retort several times when he rechecked her work, apparently he had some training in this configuration.

     “That's basic stuff, Selby.” He said sternly while correcting the last mistake. Get your mind off your future husband so we can get the hell off this station.”

     “Now who's anxious to go? You know uncle Sol would be here if he didn't-”

     “I know,I know, if he didn't have to run the empire. Business as usual,” he called station control to request take off clearance. Of course they went to the top of the list. “Sometimes its good being the heir apparent.” He grinned as he gently lifted the shuttle without a wobble and exited the shuttle bay at twice the recommended speed.

     “Essie!” She squeaked as he took them on a looping spin between three shuttles sending them scattering. She sighed and took her hands off the controls even though she was in the pilots seat and let him do his thing. By now every one knew he was leaving with the fleet so as long as he didn't crash into anything no one was going to complain. Not to the emperor anyway.

     She turned down the shouting from the three shuttles so as not to disturb Essie’s concentration as he weaved in and around everything he could find.

     “Okay,” he finally set the shuttle on a direct course for the Razorfist at a more sedate speed. “I've been wanting to do that every since Kalmar made me start taking lessons.”

     “I'm sure he's patting himself on the back for that,” she said more to herself. “Your going to be on your best behavior aren't you?” He smiled but didn't answer. “As much as you can please? Kalmars right about one thing as much as I hate to admit he's right about anything. Its time for us to learn to live out from under uncle Sols thumb. You never know, we might actually have a life of our own.”

     “I'm sure he's already ordered every one to make sure we continue our education. Me anyway. So for me it'll be the same life.”

     “Oh, I think you'll find some way to make life away from the empire bearable. I have total confidence in your ability to find something to entertain you. And aggravate every one else.”

     “I do believe you have a point big sis.” His eyes gleamed.

 

     “Welcome aboard, your Highness,” captain Westy nodded slightly, “this is captain T'Shan my executive officer. My apologies for the small welcoming party, we weren't told you were coming until you were landing.”

     “Uncle Sol keeping you on your toes,” Selby sighed. “I'm sorry we're late, some last minute things,” she shrugged and looked at Essie for input but he and captain T'Shan had locked eyes. Selby looked away before Westy noticed.

     “Of course, we're slightly behind schedule awaiting the new fleet commander,” Westy looked at T'Shan who gave a slight shrug of her own.

     “Which reminds me,” Selby pulled out a stik and presented it to Westy. “Uncle Sol said you should read this immediately.” He took the stik and went to the nearest wall console. Emperor Sol appeared on the small screen.

     “Captain Westy you are to assume command of the Razorfist fleet. By now you have met my son and niece. I expect you to take excellent care of them. I think you'll find empress Selby to be of great use to you while you prepare the citizens for inclusion in the empire. Good luck, Fleet Admiral Westy.” The image faded.

     “Well, that solves that problem,” In the back of her mind Selby thought he looked a little pale for someone who just got promoted to fleet admiral his first day on the job as ship captain. In the front of her mind she was mad that her uncle hadn't given Essie any encouragement.

     “I'll make sure the fleets brought up to speed, sir,” T'Shan stepped away briskly, turned back after a few steps to look back. She sighed visibly and continued on her way. Selby turned to Essie while Westy was still in shock and found him watching the bald womans retreating form with a grin on his face. She leaned close.

     “Essie. Leave her alone.” T'Shan went thru a distant hatch and out of view. Essie sighed and brought his gaze back to Selby who rolled her eyes. He had it bad. This should prove to be an interesting trip.

     “Well, if you'll follow me I'll show you to your quarters,” they fell in behind him while workers went to work on the shuttle.

     The VIP decks were full of activity as they stepped off the lift. There was a swift ripple effect as first one person saw them and stiffened. In a matter of seconds the the only sound heard was the soft whirring of air circulators.

     “Emperor Sol the sixteenth and Empress Selby will be making the journey with us,” admiral Westy said into the silence. He looked around noting anger on more than a few faces. He'd have to make sure to put security on the job as soon as possible, wouldn't do to have the royal heirs assassinated on his watch.

     “Seeing as this is going to be a long trip we're not going to stand on too much ceremony. The emperor hand picked each of you for this mission so its only fitting that you be prepared to impart some of your knowledge to the future rulers of the Calif System. Carry on.” He led Essie and Selby thru the parting crowd to the far end of the corridor.

     “This is going to be a long trip,” Essie sighed as Westy touched the pad on the door on the left and the door directly across from it. Both swished open to reveal spacious quarters.

     “Not as spacious as your use to but at least you don't have to share,” Westy smiled. “Of course there'll be security posted-sorry can't take any chances. I'm sure there are sympathizers even here despite the severe screening process. Well, it seems I have matters to attend. Your belongings should be arriving shortly.” He stepped smartly back thru the crowd greeting and shaking hands as word of his promotion trickled through.

 

 

 

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Immortal 3: Stealer of Souls is here!

“The old woman laughed out loud, unbuttoned her calico shift and let it fall to her ankles. Annabelle kicked free of it, and pulled the pins from her hair. Naked in the moonlight, she whispered his name… “

 

They thought it was over. The werewolves, Joan, Consuela, José and Mark fought to save Tundra. Now they sit on Topaz’s High Council where they’re feeding the hungry, tackling race riots, rebuilding their world. But come nightfall a daemon walks the streets. He knows all about the young woman with the chilling secret. He knows about her mirror and of the ancient evil that’s awakened. History has been rewritten and a new war has just begun…

“Portrait of Annabelle” sketch and design by Quinton Veal

At Black Science Fiction Society

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Project vampire (poem tell me what you think)

project vampire

By: William Landis

 

he was living a vampires dream in the bad part of town

there was a flow of eagerness in his black gown

in the confines of a casket he was no longer bound

crackheads hookers and pimps he bit everything around

the taste was bitter of the bum who lost his money in spades

though all was well and dandy until he bit the prostitute with aids

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THOUGHT IS MORE DANGEROUS THAN YOU THINK...

Roman Doyle is a black, twenty-five-year-old schoolteacher, happily married and anticipating becoming a father. What Roman does not know is that he is really Armon Sakara, the only son of Sakara Rey, the emperor of a distant galaxy known as The Cosmic Sea. That is, until he encounters Chi-Ro Jin, a veteran of the Psychic Wars.

 

About the Author

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Just wanted to let those of you interested in scriptwriting that over at the 'Masters of 3 Acts' Scriptwriting Group the original feature film Treatment for the hit horror film, "Halloween: H2O" can be read on the Mo3A page! If you've been scratching your heads about how to write a film treatment, you can take a look at the discussions on how to conceive and write a solid treatment and see how a treatment for a popular film is written. Also, you gamers can look at our series of discussions on how to write videogame scripts and get the 411from some top game designers on the video and other weblinks. Our next series of discussions will be on 'Scriptwriting for Comics and Graphic Novels'. So if you have questions about scriptwriting, come to the 'training grounds' and find answers at the Masters of 3 Acts Group page! The road to mastery begins with but a single step....
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who tells the story? the rosetta stone

On the net I was looking at the Rosetta stone as explained by Dr. Kaba Hiawatha Kamene and by the British Museum, same account. One based on research and one based on assumed authority. It tells the facts and the nature of the tellers. We've been hearing the chest thumping history rather than the truth.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGCpcVO3mYI&NR=1 is Dr. Kamene's telling.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAYpH7tLZE8 is the British Museums' telling.
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Excerpt: Task Force Arrow

Here's an excerpt from a novel I'm working on titled Task Force Arrow.  It's about a group of warships that find themselves stranded in another part of the galaxy and are forced to fight their way home!

 

 

“Well, as you all may have noticed, we’re in a bit of a bind,” Greggory began with a little understated humor to lighten the mood.  “The Far Walker’s tunnel drive has failed.  It brought us one hundred ninety million light years across the galaxy only to malfunction, preventing us from completing our mission.  Because of the time sensitive nature of our mission, any possibility that we could have gotten the tunnel drive up and running so that we conduct this operation has effectively evaporated.  Compounding this problem is our inability to raise Upper Command.” Greggory settled a gaze upon the Executive Officer seated to his right.  “EO Lian, what is our communication status?”

The EO shook her head.  “Negligible, Commander.  A month before we ventured on this mission, five relay communication beacons were tunneled to these coordinates.”

Lian picked up a remote and thumbed a center button, bringing a holochart to life above the table.  From the center of the chart toward the upper right corner was a string of icons representing the relay beacons.  Lian toggled a side control, expanding the size of the chart, revealing the beacons’ location in relation to TFA’s mission objective.

“Now, according to our readings, the tunnel drive transit did not even place us close to where we’re supposed to be.”  Lian could barely keep the exasperation out of her voice.  “LA Hilburn, exactly how ‘off’ are we?”

“Thirty million light years from our designated insertion point, EO,” the astrogator replied crisply.

Lian pursed her lips and looked up at the commander.  “We should have still been able to contact the beacon.  Even from this distance, there is no way that we could be out of comm range.  Yet, all we’re getting is static.”

“On top of being stranded in an uncharted, unexplored part of the galaxy, we have no way of sending a message regarding our predicament back to our homespace,” said Greggory.

“We’re screwed.”  That colorfully blunt assessment came from Surface Element Commander Dorious Clanton.

Most captains and commanders would have censured comments like that.  Greggory didn’t mind, however.  He encouraged brutal honesty in his meetings.  No sugarcoating, no holding back.

“Now, we need to get unscrewed,” Greggory stated with a wink in his voice.  “Right now, we’re stationary, but we’re not stuck.  Pratsoot, give us a propulsion rundown.”

Lead Engineer Kyra Pratsoot, leaned forward, her thin doe eyed face tense with nervous excitement.  She had just been promoted to her current position prior to being assigned to TFA.  It was more daunting for her being in the midst of these veteran commanders who were now her peers than unraveling the mind numbing complexities of a starship engine.  “The Far Walker’s sublight impulse is operating within the normal parameters.  I could upgrade the impulse on all of our ships to a light speed variance which will facilitate much faster travel toward homespace. The problem is, that would only be a cosmetic remedy.  Each FTL jump would result in impulse burnout due to the fact that sublight engines are not designed for FTL velocities.  Frankly sir, the warp engine should never have been removed when the tunnel drive was installed.  A standard warp engine could have served as a backup mode of rapid propulsion.”

“But instead, we’re relegated to squeezing light speed out of a sublight engine,” Greggory summarized sourly.

“And we must do it in phases, sir,” Pratsoot stressed.  “The jumps must be short and after each one, the engine has to given a period of time in to recover from the exertion placed upon it.”

“Well, kudos to the genuiuses who removed the warp engine,” Captain Oshkinz of the missile frigate, Journey, put in with heavy, growling sarcasm.  “Anyway Lead Engineer, with your adjustments to the sublight impulse, how much faster to homespace are you talking?” 

Pratsoot cleared her throat to mask her unease at being the center of attention.  “Well, um, judging from the charts I’ve studied and the extrapolations I’ve made based upon our current position, I’d say it would take us approximately seven months to get back to homespace if we perform the modifications I’m suggesting.”

“Seven months of unhindered travel,”  Operational Intelligence Chief Grimes interjected.  Grimes reached for his own remote and detached it from a tabletop niche next to his right hand.  He thumbed a control and the image on the holochart reconfigured into a newer, denser arrangement of stars.  “I did some studying as well.  Our route home lies through this section of space.  Even without LA Pratsoot’s impulse upgrades we could potentially cut that trip down if we take this path.”

“If the travel were unhindered as you mentioned,” said Greggory.

“If,”  Grimes conceded.  “I ran some spectroanaylsis on this region.  The readings are off the charts.  The region is overabundant with oxygen-rich planets, all situated comfortably within the habitable zones of their host stars.  In addition, the region is smothered with emissions traffic indicative of the existence of multiple tech bases.  Highly advanced tech bases.”

“How do you know they’re highly advanced and not just the crude emissions of  pre-space flight industrial worlds?” Asked Colonel Goshin.

Grimes raised a bushy brow.  “Because pre-space flight industrial worlds don’t dabble in supra-light propulsion.  And there’s enough spatial distortions in the region to indicate more than significant numbers of vessels with that capability.”

“If the vessels in that region have supra-light capability then by logical extension, their level of military capability should be comparable,” Greggory commented with thoughtful consideration.

“More or less,” said Grimes.  “But until I dispatch a few recon probes into the area, we won’t know for certain what we’re up against.”

“Do it,” the commander ordered.

Grimes nodded and rose from the table. 

As the operational chief exited the conference room, Greggory turned to the lead astrogator.  “Is there no other course we can take, one that won’t have us cutting through a heavily populated, potentially hostile area?”

Hilburn shrugged.  “Sir I went over Grimes’ findings.  That region is our obstacle to homespace, yet through it runs the shortest path home.  If we go around it we will be years in transit.”

“Years,” Greggory repeated, curling the fingers of his right hand into a fist.  With the knuckles of his fist he tapped twice on the table.  “We don’t have years.  If that’s the only viable path to homespace then that is the path we’ll have to take.  Any thoughts?  Suggestions?”

A round of silence met the commander’s interrogative gaze.  Greggory didn’t press for a response because he knew that if anyone had something of value to offer that person would have not have hesitated to offer it. 

As it stood, the officers were as eager to seize upon the one option available to the task force as their commander.

Greggory shifted to Hilburn.  “Alright then.  Set a course.”

“Right away, sir.”

Greggory dismissed the gathering.  The officers filed out of the conference room, their faces grim with purpose.

Only the EO remained behind.

“Are you going to the bridge?”  Lian asked.

Greggory folded his arms, his brow crinkled in thought.  “No, not yet.  I think I’ll pay a visit to the Anaylsis Section.”

Lian produced a sly smile.  “Ah, let me guess.  You think he might know something about this part of space.”

The commander gave a suggestion of a shrug.  “Doesn’t hurt to inquire.”

 

 

 

 

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Reflections from the Edge: Two decades of essays on race, culture and politics from a young southern writer
"The manuscript is a compilation of articles and essays that are grounded in critical race theory and common sense southern values. The essays in the text are reviews of and responses to current events over the last 2 decades. Thus, topics range from the OJ Simpson trial to 9/11 and the war on terrorism and their impact on African Americans and race relations in America. "
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This is written by my mad cool (former) Thesis advisor -:)!!! Please show the brother some love -:)
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Chapter Two

Thanks to all who posted comments for the first chapter. I appreciate it so much. Here is chapter two of the story. Please keep critiqueing even if you hate it!

 

 

Two

Councilor’s Chamber, The Great Hall

Capital City, Novia Prime

United Republic of Planets

 

        First Viceroy Parnell Star ran his hand through his graying black hair and took a deep breath as images of what was left of the Harcadia Colony flickered and died on the large vidscreen in the center of the Great Hall. A heavy silence fell upon the room and Parnell looked at the thousands of humans and Albeings that made up the Republic Council. He saw in them a mixture of fear and anger that mirrored his own. He knew that they would all be looking to him now, expecting him to provide answers that he did not have. He leaned back in his chair and for a brief moment he was reminded of the way the Great Hall looked when he was a boy. The triangular shaped hall, with its large seats that seemed to climb to the sky, somehow seemed vaster and more intimidating in those days. Perhaps it was. There were more species and more planets then that were willing to do whatever it took to keep the Republic together and at peace. That was before the Great War. Now it seemed that every system, even those in the Interior, were only out for themselves. It didn’t anger Parnell; it only made him sad. The Republic’s planets no longer trusted their government to look out for their best interest. The Great War had left scars and every planet held onto a deep fear that the Maraudan Empire was this great big, shadow monster that could strike again at any time. The raid on the Harcadian Colony meant the monster had returned. His thoughts were interrupted by yet another fight that had broken out between the Spigot and Camarala Counselors. The Spigot’s white skin was turning crimson; while the Camarala’s yellowish skin was turning white. No doubt they were regurgitating every minor incident that occurred during their races thousand yarnz blood feud. Parnell would never understand how two species that started off as the same race could have such a deep hatred for each other, current physical differences aside. The two still had many genes in common, or so Parnell was told. The Spigots stayed pale, short and relatively slender, while the Camarala, to adapt to the giant forests they now called home, were dark, tall and stocky. The concept was a little hard for Parnell to grasp. Humans, unless they were mixed with some type of Albeing, were pretty much the same: brown skin, brown eyes, wavy or course hair. There just weren’t that many radical differences in his species. He thought about the dark gray eyes that were a Star family trait and how their enemies had unsuccessfully used their unique eye color for yarnz as “proof” that the Republic’s first family had Albeing blood.

          Would the galaxy ever be free of these ridiculous prejudices?

          The Spigot Councilor, Fernan, was now twitching hysterically. “These horrors are a punishment from Yah,” said Fernan, his high-pitched voice taking on its customary prissy tone, “a warning of what happens when you turn your back on the gods. For yarnz we have moved away from the religion that once united our ancestors. And now look what has happened. Rava has risen up from the ashes to start his reign of terror once again.”

        Warma, the Camarala let out a very loud, disgusted sigh. “Not this cripe again, tell me Spigot do you think that throwing ourselves at the mercy of your god will give us the power to beat back the Maraudans, yet again?

       Fernan leaned in closer. “Yah commands all power in the universe.”

       “Really?” smirked Warma. “Well, all the power in the universe didn’t help when the Maraudans took over your planet Spigot. In fact, if I recall correctly it wasn’t a divine hand, but the cold hand of technological, the weapons of science that saved your race from extinction.”

        “That is exactly the kind of blasphemy that I expect from a Camarala,” said Fernan, practically foaming at the mouth and shaking even harder. “You are an abomination to our shared Sacred Ancestors.”

     “And you…,” countered Warma, pointing his stocky finger at Fernan, “have spent too much time in Maraudan Space. Perhaps you and your ilk should return there where you belong. After all, they fight their wars in the name of your gods. Oh,” he continued, his wide mouth twisting into a cruel smile, “you can’t can you?”

        Warma’s menacing smile sent a chill up Parnell’s spine.

      “Everybody knows that the Queen is a notorious humanphile,” Warma continued. “She sees all Albeings as beneath her.”

         Fernan shot Warma a pointed look. “In some cases they are.”

      “Enough,” said Parnell sternly. He needed to bring this tedious fight to its end. This petty bickering was tearing the Republic apart. It was a bigger enemy to them than the Maraudans could ever be. Before he could speak again, he felt a calming hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Second Viceroy Shalimar Manoor staring back at him. His thin, yellow antennas were drooped down to the side of his yellow face and his green eyes were cloudier than usual. Shalimar spoke in his usual, regal tone and the two Counselors stopped fighting at once.

       “We are here to discuss where we go from here, not to dredge up old clan rivalries,” Shalimar said. “Now if you two Councilors can enlighten us on why the Maraudans would attack their own people at the Harcadia colony the Council would love to hear it.”

          The two Albeings shook their heads humbly, Warma mumbling what Parnell knew to be a Camarala curse.

       “Perhaps they attacked them because they were their people, retribution for leaving the Empire.”

       Parnell looked for the source of the outburst and was not at all surprised to see the confident face of young Major Van Dylan staring back at him, his brown eyes coolly fixated on him. “Or maybe she did it as a test,” the boy continued as a bead of sweat fell from his cropped, black hair, “a chance for her to see the type of hold she still has on the populace and when things didn’t go as planned she destroyed it.”

        Young Dylan’s statement created a quiet buzz in the hall that only quieted when Chief Medical Officer Veera Dylan moved to the center of the room. She and Parnell’s eyes locked briefly as she gave her report on the Harcadia massacre.

      “Do you think there could be any survivors?” Parnell asked. He had directed his question to Veera, but it was her son that responded.

     “Humans maybe,” said Van matter of factly, “but I doubt any of the Bargel made it out alive.”

       “Except as potential slaves,” Veera interjected grimly. Her face remained impassive as she made the remark, but he didn’t need to see her disheveled appearance to know the suffering at Harcadia deeply troubled her.  As a medic in the last war, and now the head of Republic Medical, Parnell knew she understood the fate of those caught in the crossfire of war. He also knew she never got use to it.

     “The truth is Harcadia has kept a very low profile since the war ended,” she continued. “We don’t have any statistics about the human colony let alone the Bargel tribe that lived there.”

      He nodded at her words and understood the unspoken truth behinds it. Harcadia wasn’t the only colony near The Edge that was basically kept to itself. The Empire had the ability to strike out at a number of their outer colonies and they wouldn’t even know the extinct of the damage. The implications were not lost on the Councilors as they began voicing their fears and anger all out at once. The Yalman Councilor finally spoke. The rapid clicks of the brown, hairless Albeing was hard to understand, even for the translators, but there was no mistaken her meaning and the truth behind her words. Once word got out about the colony attack it would throw the Republic into a panic they could not contain. It was not something Parnell wanted to see happen. They were having a hard time holding themselves together as it was.

    “But we cannot simply ignore this,” said Warma, daring to speak again.

     “The Queen is young,” offered Fernan. “She might be testing us. The Maraudan Empire has been shrinking for yarnz, they are mired in rebellions, and it may just be some type of mind game she is playing with her people to prove they are still capable of such acts.”

    “Then we need to send one back,” said Van suddenly, the tone of his voice demanding attention. “We all know what this latest attack by the Maraudans mean. Their new queen has been tightening her grip on her empire for yarnz and now she has set her sights on trying to steal ours. We must strike fast and hard. We must let them know that this time when they come after us things will be different.”

         A loud burst of applauds and whoops echoed throughout the hall. Van looked very pleased with himself. Parnell turned his attentions back to Veera, her mouth fixed in an amused smile. Parnell was reminded once again how much like his father Van was. That hot temperament was a Dylan family trait and it seemed to him that at times Veera was too amused to see that reckless spark in her son and daughter override their judgment. It was a feeling he didn’t share. When the cheers died down Parnell took the floor again. “Would you like to continue the session Major Dylan? Or would this be a good time for me to interject my thoughts?”

      “Sorry Viceroy,” said the young man sinking a little lower in his chair.

       Parnell was pleased to see that he felt the sting of his words. “Despite what our young major may believe, we can not afford to make any rash moves,” continued Parnell. “This attack is obviously something we can not ignore, but we have to come up with the right response to this or we could make matters worse.”

       A soft voiced responded. “I think we should wait and do nothing.”

        The entire room went silent and turned its attention to the Danor Councilor. She seemed unphased by the attention, sitting calmly in her seat, her long, graying hair in a bun, her brown eyes calm and unclouded.

Parnell was the first to speak. “With all due respect Roma that is the one thing we can not afford to do.”

     “You’re wrong First Viceroy,” Roma responded as calm as ever.  “It is the only thing we can afford to do. What is the alternative? War. I doubt that any human or any of the Albeings here want that.”

         A low, angry rumbling was now making its way across the hall.

       Roma would not be silent. “There is not a Councilor here who did not either experience the war first hand or suffer as a result of it. Most of us now have children of our own, children who now face the same horrors that we once did. Who will condemn them to that, you?” Roma said, pointing to Van. “What about you Parnell?”

        Parnell shook his head violently in an attempt to deny her reasoning. “Are you talking about appeasement?” The word choked in his throat.

      Roma’s expression hardened. “Yes, if it comes to that.”

      The muffled sounds were quickly transforming into a low roar. Parnell bit his tongue to literally stop the angry words from coming out of his mouth. He understood that humans who had isolated themselves on Roma’s world were pacifist. Tartrus, he even admired her ability to stick to her beliefs after the horror she witnessed in the war. But there were times when her strong beliefs just seemed to hinder him from doing what he had to do.

      “Spoken like a true Danor,” said Warma, his voice spitting out the last word like a curse.        

      “This is why our planet nearly perished in the last war... cowards like you.”

        Roma didn’t blink as Warma continued his tirade.

      “Tell me Councilor, how many lives were lost in the war because of your neutrality?”

       “We are healers,” she answered calmly. “We save lives.”

        Warma snorted, “As long as there is no risk to your own people.”

        “And how many more lives will be lost in a new war?” Roma countered, her eyes betraying her deep convictions.

       The room erupted. Once again it was Shalimar who finally silenced the Councilors.

      “I think Councilor Kamus is right,” Shalimar said. “We all know what will happen if we find ourselves in a full-scale war again. We must try to avoid that any way we can.”

         Many councilors started applauding, while others started screaming angrily. Parnell heard the large, green Bolo Councilor yell “that this was madness, that the Maraudans could not be reasoned with,” as the tiny, orange Sourvo Councilor shrieked “that the Republic was now too weak to protect them.”

      Parnell tried to center himself. This was too important a decision to make on the spur of the moment. Everything inside of him screamed that even thinking about appeasement was wrong, but the other alternative would be war. And war was the last thing he wanted for his son.     

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Introducing Matty's Rocket

 

Bighead Scientists presents Matty's Rocket


Matty's Rocket is a galaxy spanning tale about the adventures of space pilot Matty Watty. This animatic series is based in an alternative past where the 30s-40s pulp stylings of Buck Rogers, Flash Gordon, and Fritz Lang's Metropolis collide with the real world events of World War 2, FDR, Nazis, the Harlem Renaissance and the oppressive Jim Crow era, Watch as Matty navigates her vessel through a dangerous world filled with evil villains, heroic feats, alien oddities and down home adventure.  

 

 

Updated weekly at www.mattysrocket.com

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MODOC - Part 9 - Public Gathering

Running out of the doctor's office with Justin in tow, we tried to look inconspicuous as we got on the elevator. I did my part to look particularly robotic and Justin wiped the sweat off his face. The elevator had several people on it. Initially I did not pay them any attention until I turned my ears toward them and noted their incredibly fast heart rates. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. They has the heart rates of people engaged in a full out sprint. Their breathing was short and raspy. I pushed up against Justin's leg and he moved in the direction I pushed. His leg was hot and dry. He was already running a mild fever. All we could do was hope he would maintain until we got home. 

 

The two nervous people ran out of the elevator as if they were on fire and fled down the hallway away from the security station. As we got off the elevator, an alarm sounded, its high pitched repeating whine made me want to turn off my auditory sensors. Justin was counting on me. I tried to maintain an air of calm and was confident the paralytic I gave the doctor had not worn off sooner than it was supposed to. But judging from the behavior of the thronging masses already crowding the main doors, this had nothing to do with me.

 

"Cat, can you hear me? I am piggy backing off the security grid near where you are. There is a riot near the building you are in."

 

"Too late. I see it. Tell me there is another way out." I could see the Religious Police forming up outside with their shields and batons swinging. I could hear the alarms for the Active Denial System which should have them running away, but the people were wearing padded clothing, likely something designed to disrupt microwaves. So instead of beating, demoralized, screaming masses, the RPs were having to fight an aggressive and magically well-armed mob, as weaponry appeared from underneath jackets and long coats.

 

"All the security cameras tell me the building is surrounded and the crowd is ten or fifteen deep in some places. And more are coming every second, calculating escape avenues. Stay hot, Cat."

 

"A damn flash mob." I was disgusted. A fad started almost a century ago had been perfected in this age of implants and pocket computing. A flash mob could form in less than five minutes and be thousands strong in ten. Justin had moved toward one of the walls to lean against the cool marble while I deliberated on what to do. And then all hell broke loose.

 

The nervous and sweaty people who were on the elevator were now running down the corridor leading a thronging mass of shouting people. Without warning, the hallway was full of people who swung improvised clubs against anything or anyone not identified as a member of the flash mob. I tugged Justin alongside the wall near the security desk, but the mob just swept him up and pulled him into the tide.

 

The building's security team was immediately overcome like sand against the sea, even as they were firing their neural stunners. The masses just flowed over their downed comrades and kept coming. I tried to keep my eye on Justin but as one of the security people was waving his stun wand nearby, I was caught in its effect and had a cold-beam and video glitch. No more than fifteen seconds, but it was long enough. When I looked up again after my video feed reset, Justin was gone.

 

The mob was tearing into the Religious Police and began pushing them back. The mob was likely being updated in real time by someone who was not part of the attack on the ground but coordinating it from somewhere else. As the mob expanded, it became less controllable and more dangerous.

 

"I lost the boy." I tried altering my vision and swept the spectrum, but nothing helped differentiated Justin.

 

"I will try and lock onto his visor signal. I need you to use your cold beam for targeting." The House, Max, had a cool and professional sound to his voice. He didn't panic. 

 

I jumped up to the top of the security desk and then to the top of the scanning gateway, giving myself a nice fifteen foot height advantage. I turned my cold beam out onto the crowd and hoped to get a reply signal. The beam indicated dozens of interface units, but none of them responded with our preprogrammed code. I tried to gauge the flow of the crowd and turned to where I thought he might be moving. There. By the front door, he is moving outside. "Got him. I am going to try and grab him and get out of the crowd. Can you get us a cab? Two blocks down the street would be good."

 

"I'm on it. Don't lose him. Move fast, this is getting out of control."

 

I jumped down onto the heads and shoulders of a number of the pushing and shoving flash mob participants and by the time they realized what was happening, I have skipped from their heads to the next ones toward the mob outside. My weight always surprises them, but by the time I am felt, I am already gone. As I approach the doors, I see there is full scale fighting outside and the RPs, in their efforts to be humane are being trashed, surrounded and trampled. It looked like a full scale rout until I see and hear the roar of the black aero-drones of the Corporate Police.

 

Now, it was officially out of control.

 

"This area is surrounded. Lay down your weapons or you will be fired upon." The voice came from one of four triangular aircraft with an internally shielded rotor providing lift. These were smaller drones so they were likely unmanned. I could also see a number of ground vehicles pushing their way up the street, brutally running over anyone stupid enough to get in front of them. The teams that leapt from the back of them began stunning everything in sight and drew the ire of the crowd. The crowd, instead of being cowed, exploded into action, grabbing the RP's riot shields and equipment and turning this into a full-scale battle.

 

"This is your last warning! Cease and desist!"

 

And just like that, the Corporate Police were everywhere, corralling the shouting and crazed mob members but staying at the edge of the group. The aero-drones began moving closer to the center of the crowd and spread out to maximize their effect. Each point of the tri-cornered flying wedge mounted a sonic cannon bristling from beneath the ship, looking like a terrible claw of a black flying insect. Lights activated on the edge of the flying wedges indicating the weapons were hot.

 

"Cat, get out of there."

 

"I am just a few feet from him. I can't stop now."

 

I ran up to him and put my face against him. He grabs my still dragging leash and comes with me as I try to get through the crowd. I can see a large column not to far way and try to drag him toward it. He has hunkered down and pushed as hard as he can. He reaches the column and presses up against it.

 

I press my paws against his head and push him down low to the ground. People are hearing the warning siren of the aero-drones and taking their vengeance against any of the ground-based forces before the flying wedges fire. More Corporate Police vehicles arrive on the scene and they boiled out of their big black vehicles like ants, their weapons flashed and the terribly flying wedges fired systematically into the crowd. Their fire designed to demoralize and shatter the resolve of the mob, each sonic burst is calculated to spread the devastation across the entire group. They used ultrasonic weapons which struck into the crowd with destructive effect. Direct hits were shattered into piles of steaming meat by the beam of condensed sound and the splash of sonic energy cast a circle of crippling force, shredding flesh from bone, knocking people off their feet and rendering them unconscious, blood dripping from their noses, ears and eyes. The screams of panic now overpower the previous sounds of rabble-focused courage.

 

A man falls near Justin and I push Justin under his body, using the stunned man as a shield. A second blast resounds mere feet from us and the force of the weapon, blasted me away from Justin and over the crowd. I crash into the building's shatterproof glass and bounce to the ground. His human shield was nearly liquefied. All that is left is his skeleton as the flesh is ripped from his bones. But as I whirl away, I see Justin still moving and relatively uninjured, but covered in the flesh of that unknown man, before I lose sight of him. Once I land, I am in diagnostic mode and unable to move. The sonic weapon did not damage any of my vital duotronic processor systems but my physical superstructure required a systematic restart to determine if I was physically damaged. 

 

In a matter of moments, the riot was all but quelled, as the flash mob disappeared with the same speed it formed. There were hundreds of casualties and anyone who was unconscious on the scene was placed into one of the transports that arrived soon after. The Corporate Police moved with a terrible efficiency, gathering up identifying interface technology that survived their sonic weapons. The interface IDs were processed and then bagged, viscera still dripping from them. Their medical agents, dressed in white, rather than the normal Corporate Police black, tended the wounded before loading them into the vehicles.  

 

By the time, I had rebooted and the Corporate Police were approaching my location, they thought I was dead. As they reached for me, I jumped up and ran through their legs toward the truck that I saw the boy being carried to by one of the nurses. The nurse, a huge fellow, carried Justin as if he had no weight at all. He put him into the truck and into the hands of the other mob members. Many of the uninjured had a look of absolute terror on their faces and the Police stood at the of the truck making sure no one tried to escape. An aero-drone provided a more than menacing backup measure hovering behind him, its sonic cannons aimed into the vehicles.

 

Ducking out of sight, I had become one more strange thing in a day of strange things to the police and was just as quickly forgotten. The two nurses who were helping several of the mob who were a bit more injured than most were having a conversation whose tone I was not sure I liked.

 

"Why do they bother making us fix them up at all? I don't even see the point," said a attractive female with short brown hair. Her whites were covered in blood and she was still wiping her hands after depositing another survivor into the truck with her companion.

 

"You don't actually believe the myth of where they take the dissidents do you? That is just a media blurb. They get taken to the precinct and are released," said another young looking Indian fellow. He was a bit thin and his uniform bagged on his spare frame, flapping in the wind of the nearby aero-drones.

 

Brown hair retorted, "Hey new guy, get your head out of your ass. Does this look like the kind of scene you want anyone to tell people about? Haven't you found it a bit strange, how rarely these things end up in the news anymore? I have been to almost ten of these this month alone." The venom in her voice was apparent and she did not seem to care who heard her.

 

The Indian fellow shook his head in agreement and continued,"I just figured there were so many of these things, all over the city, they just stopped being news. What they were telling me was these people were taking to re-education camps in Pennsylvania and send to work on the Great Ship Project." He seemed to have a problem with his own propoganda.

 

"I heard they were taken to New Jersey and processed."

 

"Processed? Is there a camp there too?" Having taken the last person where they were working and placed them into the vehicle, the Indian fellow reached into his back to take out a dull-wrapped package and ripped it open with his teeth.

 

Miss Brown Hair, turns after placing her equipment back into her bag and as the Indian is about to place the food into his mouth, she slaps him and the food out of his mouth before he could take a bite. She vehemently stomps the product into dust on the ground.

 

"What the hell? What's wrong with you?"

 

"That was Humox, wasn't it?"

 

"Yeah, what about it? Some of us new guys, with our heads in our asses are poor and can't afford to eat like kings. We get a food subsidy where I live. They drop it off twice a week. That was my last bar for a few days. Lauren, what's got into you?"

 

"Promise me you will never eat that again, no matter how hungry you get. Promise me."

 

"Why? You know, you are starting to worry me."

 

A Corporate Policeman walks by the two of them and I crouch under a car so that I am not seen. The policeman waves his hand toward the truck and gives the go-ahead signal. He says into his vox, "Take them to processing in Jersey."

 

"See Lauren, they are going to processing." The young man was smiling as if he had just figured out some great secret.

 

"That is what I have been trying to tell you. I have a friend who works on the trucks. She tells me that there are these new plants springing up in all of the major cities around the world." Picking up the wrapper, she shows him where it says 'Made in New Jersey' on the wrapper. "There is a new plant there. Just opened last month. Before that, people were sent to Tennessee for processing." She lowers her voice, and looks around. She slides up close to the Indian and whispers just loud enough for me to hear. "My friend says Humox is people."

 

I didn't wait to hear any more. I tore up the street, chasing that truck like all the demons of hell were after me.

 

MODOC Part 10 - War and Pieces

 

'Metal Organism Designed only for Cuddling' © Thaddeus Howze 2010. All Rights Reserved

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Don't know what's going on but in the last two years I heard more and more about Nibiru or Planet-X coming in on it's elliptical orbit, crossing through our solar system and causing various events.1. the tilting of the earth axis or changing of the poles.this brings shifts in magnetic fields, weather changes and catastrophes worldwide.2. visits from aliens who created us or aliens intent on our destruction or enslavement or to help us.....????If this event is eminent, there is no mention in popular media probably due to the panic/anarchy factor. The governments are doing suspicious activities, so I hear, for the preservation of the human species (them that have means cover their butts). Even NASA is quiet ( pictures with few words). Seems all the major ancient cultures talk about this happening hinting of the end of the world. What it all means, I don't know as govs are apt to pull the woolies over our eyes and out-right lie (we find out later). I keep thinking how Hollywood has a good track record of sort of telling the truth in a story. Maybe it's a psychic world mind thing, Maybe it's someone really knows but can't tell us directly (cause they don't really know), they tell the story, we get the message (have suspicions based on dubious evidence). Why are disaster movies the rage these days, where even the heroes are swept away? Escape by airplane is too funny (where are you going to land? low on fuel, pick one, ocean or volcano??)There are some pictures on the net (hopefully not Photoshop augmented). I also heard southern hemisphere folks are more likely to see this Nibiru coming. Some legends say lizard like aliens or gods (why I don't watch "V" on TV).
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  “Do you really believe in UFOs?”

The fact is – it doesn’t matter if I believe in them, or not; I don’t have to -- and neither do you.

Because they exist, whether we believe in them or not.

In fact -- not only do they exist – but they’ve always been here. And now, with an ever-increasing amount of strange, inexplicable sightings that have mystified the scientists, military personnel, and officials called into investigate, governments around the world are releasing their decades-old classified files on UFOs and UAPs (Unidentified Aerial Phenomenon), and joining together to deal with the ever-increasing appearances of these unidentified objects. 

Citing “international security concerns,” due to the continued UAP and UFO activity around military bases and installments (and stoked by the furor of 9/11), formerly secretive and still-reluctant generals, colonels, government officials, engineers, physicists, and aerospace experts are going on record to call for an international effort to disclose the reality of technological craft of unearthly design to the public at large. 

Since the early 90s right up through now in 2010, nations including Brazil, France, the UK, Spain, Mexico, Belgium, Peru, Denmark, and even Russia, have stepped up to add their classified information into the growing pool of international research.

Not, however, the US; traditionally, since the Cold War period -- when UFO phenomena was more openly discussed and publicly acknowledged – the US government and military attitude on UFOs/UAPs has been “official denial,” systematic debunking, and encouraging a negative and derisive attitude to the phenomena in the media. (Although former and retired Air Force personnel are breaking the code of silence and coming forward in growing numbers to share their UFO experiences; see the recent 9/27/10 National Press Club Disclosure Conference: YouTube - Disclosure Conference, National Press Club 27 Sept 2010)

In respected investigate reporter Leslie Kean’s excellent new book, “UFOs: Generals, Pilots and Government Officials Go On The Record,” http://ufosontherecord.com/the-book/, * she skillfully recounts how US government and military concerns over “Russian threat,” during the Cold War period -- combined with the American populace’s increasingly hysterical response to the increased UFO and UAP activity ** -- convinced the US government and military officials that Americans were not “ready for the truth.”***


Well…they may have been right, then; and judging from how people generally seem respond to the topic these days…they might still be right now.

**************

“But…do you really believe in UFOs?” 

Since it’s been established that UFOs do exist – and that one has only to follow the growing exopolitic and disclosure movement worldwide to uncover this truth -- rather, shouldn’t the question really be:

“What does it mean to us if extraterrestrial life actually exists -- and has been visiting our planet for a long time --

… and do I care?”

**************

To tell you the truth -- I’m not sure why this has become such an obsession recently. 

Yes – I have a vivid imagination. Have made up lots of stories as a writer/playwright. Played lots of funny, crazy -- and sometimes even profoundly deep -- pretend-people/characters as a performer/actress. **** Basically, I’m a late-blooming, goofy, overgrown kid. And now, as a mom, encourage a lot of that same creativity, imagination and zaniness in my spawn.*****

Yes – I love some speculative and science fiction; yes, “Close Encounters” is on my list of top ten movies of all time. 

But don’t get it twisted.

I’m also a rational, hardcore, ex-New Yorker, birthed and bred in Harlem, west; weaned on subways slithering between Uptown spots and Loisaida holes; survived being shot at, tied up at gunpoint, dragged off an elevator by a 6’4, mentally ill, would-be rapist****** …and all before the tender age of 21.

I’ve stopped men in the street from attacking the woman they loved…befriended young sista/neighors struggling with crack addiction…absorbed mental illness and drug addiction in my own immediate family…been on public assistance, using EBT cards to feed my boys when I had to.  Basically: I’m a realist. Blood and dirt real.

Trust: I pay not dust to people’s ego-driven delusions or fantasies, and try hard to disabuse myself of such personal flights of fancy.  And I’ve never taken anybody’s word for anything (except, in matters of the heart…and we all know how that usually turns out).

That being said: I’ve learned that a lot of things we don’t understand, and can’t see, can exert real power over our lives.

I’ve learned that many of these ancient mysteries, esoteric sciences, psychic phenomena, spiritual practices, and mystical traditions can be studied/tapped into/and used…to create bridges toward the higher evolutionary path I believe we’re all on.

So, ask me again: “#1: Do you really believe that extraterrestrial life forms are actually visiting us here on earth?”…and:“#2: Why do you care?”

#1: I still don’t know the answer to this question. Like Leslie Kean and many of the other curious skeptics following this research, I would really need to SEE an extraterrestrial BEFORE being able to say that Yes, I believe, they’ve visited our planet. I simply do not know.

#2: Unequivocally: YES, I DO CARE…and strongly believe this is a vitally important phenomenon for us to pay attention to.

I believe ignoring a game-changing phenomenon as mind-bogglingly monumental as the possible reality of intelligent extraterrestrial life-forms and consciousnesses visiting our planet -- is not only short-sighted, but delusional…and ultimately, ridiculous.

Yes, it would permanently alter everything we think we know about life on planet Earth. But I also believe that knowing we’re part of an immensely larger, universal family of intelligent species, far more evolved – technologically, and hopefully, in other ways, as well -- would stop us dead in our fucked-up-on-earth tracks…and take us down a much needed peg or a hundred. 

And right about now… I think that’s just about what we need on this here big ol’ blue flower.

So, I ask you:  Do you care if UFOs and extra-terrestrial life forms and intelligences are visiting our planet?  And if so -- how would knowing this brain-numbing reality change your life? Would it?

I think, sistren and brethren…those are the really interesting questions.


******************************************************************

* Big-ups to my homegirl, the fabulous director/producer/Hour Glass Theater doyenne/diva, Elyse Singer, for hipping me to this book…i had the distinct pleasure of working with E on a workshop of my musical "Magic Kingdom" a few years back... awesomely creative and imaginative chick, and one of my covert operatives, who grudgingly supports my addiction with important information that I might otherwise overlook…love ya, girl!
** initially well-documented in the media of the era, including a 1952 front page photograph and article in the Washington Post showing  UFOs flying over the White House, and relating the cat-and-mouse chase between US Air Force pilots and the UFOs.
*** It’s important to note that NONE of the military, government, or scientific personnel who go on record in this book claim to believe these phenomena necessarily mean extraterrestrial intelligence is the only possible answer; they all pretty much steer clear of that assertion. Instead they stay with the “We do not know what this phenomena is, which just know it’s not from earth, so we cannot rule out extraterrestrial origins” take on it all – including Kean herself.
**** Obviously, the complex and rewarding character I played in Bridgett Davis’ award-winning independent feature, “Naked Acts” comes to mind; I was blessed to be in it, and it definitely was a life-transforming experience. Hats off to you, BD, you’re still one of my greatest sheroes!
***** Yes -- I encourage my sons’ love of talking sponges and furry animals… read them fairy tales and silly stories…and although I did feel it was important to tell them Santa was “made up” a couple of years ago (and yes, dealt with my older son’s tears of anger that the TV had “lied to him” about old Kris Kringle – and then, had to listen to friends and family scold me for "ruining the fun of Christmas for them," oh please), I’ve applauded their love of superheroes and all that kid stuff…
…and yes, I did ask them, just the other day, how they would feel if they ever found out UFOs were real. I felt it was time to bring it up.  They were a little disturbed, asked some questions, did some Tae Kwon Do self-defense moves they might “have to use on the aliens”… and then decided they didn’t want to talk about it anymore -- because, as River noted: “I would panic…even if they said, ‘We come in peace’.”   I think his response sums up all of our basic, instinctual reactions very well…and I let it go at that, assuring them they didn’t have to worry about it. (Right now, I might have added… but didn’t.)
****** …whom I talked out of doing any more than pulling off my shirt, by the way…and I was only 12 to his 16 at the time; clearly my sense of logical debate and critical analysis developed early...or maybe, just my ability to bullshit my way out of a bad situation -- call it, survival, baby.
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The whole extraterrestrial/God thing* is kind of dicey, conversation-wise. Like, there are a lot of people won’t even mess with this topic.
Especially my intellectual, edumucated peeps. Folks who will engage on almost any other topic of the day – sex, race, class, whatever – will NOT step to the God-thing too tough…and won’t even PRETEND to acknowledge any commentary on ‘aliens’ or life off-planet.
I can dig it.
Most folks’ take is, “Why truck with the invisible and unsubstantiated -- when there’s so much in-our-face/unmitigated/ unconscionable/wackness going on?  Like, why does it matter, what’s out there, up there, if it ain’t affecting me day to day -- and anyway, I can’t CONTROL IT, so what’s the point of even thinking about it…”
Yeaaahhhh…I can dig it. 
So, why my own fascination/obsession with all of it -- even before the vision of the alien chick?
Maybe…death.
The dark, eternity of space. Wherein/and throughout/and outside of/and still creating all of it/all of us/where we have been/and where we will go/is God
…and, some unfathomably superior and powerful species capable of transversing all of that limitless darkness…an entity which, ultimately, can turn our sum total of earthly ass to grass
Yeah. Definitely. Death.
Or, maybe not. 
Because on the other side of that end of flesh/life here on earthwhat would there be… except pure spirit.consciousness… ultimately, true immortality?
And to my mind… that, right there – is the shit.
******************************************************************
*from my continuing research on the many similar, recurring ‘Gods from the sky’ narratives and depictions found in ancient myths, creation stories, and religious traditions worldwide, only conflating the two makes any sense to me, at this point...

NOTE ON VIDEO: I thought this was kind of interesting. I'll be adding lots of links to the blog, since there's so much out there, God bless youtube, right? This is titled, "Reverend Barry Dowling: UFOs and Religion."
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MODOC - Part 8 - Medical Leave

Getting out of the technician's office only required that I wait for a few minutes until he came back. While I waited, I did some research on the doctor who was working on Justin's case. He was a middle-aged gentleman, Dr. James Peterson, 46, a wife and three children living on the outskirts of the war torn borough of the Bronx. Used  as a point of invasion, in the last wars a decade ago, much of the Bronx was still being rebuilt. New tenements sprung up there and privileged members of society were allowed to enjoy those new areas with their better food, water and energy facilities. 

 

The doctor and his family were recently moved out there, almost simultaneously with his appointment here. When I tried to get further information regarding them, I was immediately flagged as requesting classified data. Since most data flags are annoying and can often be wrong, I transmitted information that would reroute that signal to another terminal in the building and continued my investigation. The most damning thing was that the doctor's children did not attend any local schools in the city, anywhere. And when I searched for an occupation for the wife, nothing was listed. So I accessed their shopping lists and noted that no one in their family went outside to shop. Now, unbeknownst most people, every time you leave your home in our illustrious society, something notes your movement, by either an implant or an appliance you wear. The doctor's family did not move. Ever. And had not since they were relocated. That was all I needed to know.

 

Skipping out between fat boy's legs was easy enough but there was something wrong with him. His heart rate was wrong, highly elevated and irregular. He was pasty and he appeared to be having trouble breathing. After he closed the door, I heard a crash and then no other movement. Normally, I would chalk it up to a bad lifestyle leading up to a bad ending, but there was something wrong with this. Once the door closed, I could not get health information, but I used a medical code override and triggered an alert with this technician's door  and zipped down the corridor back to the office I was supposed to be sitting in. Big man was no longer my problem.

 

I tapped on the door to get Gorgeous Boy to open the door and he looked up, put down his compact and let me back in.

 

"How did you get out?"

 

"I walked."

 

He stood there struck for a moment and then realized, "You are a robot, aren't you? You are realistic looking, I really thought you were a cat."

 

"Wow, no fooling you, huh? Do you think you could take a look back there and see if my boy is ready?"

 

Recovering his ennui and trying to look unaffected he said, "Sure thing. Flashing back."

 

I hate the abuse of the language. But my database included a variety of slangs programmed from modern vids, so that I would be a better communicator with my charge. But Justin did not use much of the modern slang and I was grateful. It was always about being fast or being in sync or being smart and most of the people using it were never any of these things. As he turned away, I immediately followed in his path and as he opened the door into the chamber, I slid in behind him and caused the phone to ring. He reflexively turned around and headed back toward the phone. Never saw me and evidently once he realized no one was on the phone, he forgot my request to see the doctor as well. Short attention span. A wild animal should eat that one to keep him from breeding; never a tiger around when you need one.

 

Once I entered the doctor's office, I noticed the immensity of the space and could hear Justin talking with the doctor deep in the office behind a series of curtains. I could hear a number of other voices, but most seemed to be coming from displays and were not people. I could only detect two scents in the room, so I knew I had the place to myself. Dropping down, I could see the doctor's feet beneath the curtains and made a path toward them. Justin was lying down on a table and answering questions as the doctor's diagnostic table took sophisticated biometric readings. I decided to take the direct approach. Finding a terminal with a cold beam access, I managed to find the office vox and transmitted my voice from every corner of the office.

 

"Justin, go outside. Wait for me there." I jumped up on the edge of the table and watched Justin turn and sit up. He remembered our conversation and went outside to wait.

 

"Doctor Peterson, I presume. I work for the Proctor, just like you do. Actually, not quite like you do. How is the boy's therapy going?"

 

"Uh, well. The course of therapy is going well and he should be fine in a number of weeks."

 

"Okay, that was for the listening public. Now cut the crap. What about the real therapy, how long is it going to be? The Proctor is an impatient man and wants to know how long he is going to have to wait."  Borrowing the House's fractal attack, I laced the vox output with a signal designed to intimidate and cause a visceral fear reaction. He would not notice it at the audible level, but his level of fear was already off the chart.

 

"Tell the Proctor everything is according to plan and the subject will be sanctioned within eight to ten weeks."

 

"So tidy. So clinical. Say the boy's name, Doctor."

 

"Justin."

 

"Say it again. This time with some feeling."

 

"Justin Pennyworth."

 

"And that is about what he is worth to you, isn't it?"

 

"What do you want from me? What do you want me to say?"

 

"I want you to say that you are sorry for doing this."

 

"Who are you? What do you want?"

 

"Your family lives in the Bronx. Imprisoned in a new tenement there, isn't that correct?"

 

"You people said if I did what you wanted you would not hurt them."

 

"What else did the Proctor promise you?"

 

"That when the boy was done, I would be able to get my family back."

 

"That deal is over. This is the new one. Reverse what you have done and I won't kill you and your family, today."

 

"Excuse me?" The doctor looked visibly shaken. He dropped his diagnostic wand and slumped back into a chair.

 

"Can you reverse what you have done to the boy? And if you lie to me, I will know."

 

"Yes, the process required significant setup and he is not past the point where it could not be undone. But if I do that I am dead, and so is my family."

 

"Doctor, I am not a cat or a toy. I am a sophisticated weapon with only one objective. To protect that boy in there. If you intend to leave this room alive, you will undo what you have done. Wave that scanner in the air and tell me what you detect."

 

The doctor waved the wand and his face turned completely bone-white.

 

"I have an antidote. I will administer it only when my boy is safe."

 

"Why should I? According to you, my family is dead either way."

 

Turning on a cold beam, I connect to the House and relay the address of the Doctor's family. A few seconds later, his response is what I hoped.

 

"Your family is secured by electronic systems only. I can arrange for them to be outside of that building in two hours and I have a window of fifteen minutes in which they will appear to all surveillance to be sitting in the house quietly. Be there with a car and disappear. I don't care where you go but know this: You better be right about this being reversible because if you don't I promise you, I will create the most corrosive acid possible and cook the flesh right off the bones of you and your children. And don't think I can't find you. Just like I found your family today, it took me five minutes."

 

I jump down to the floor and come over to the chair where the doctor is sitting and climb up so that he is looking me directly in my very cold eyes. "You think the Proctor is a monster? I am as close to dying as you have ever been in your life. Now get my boy in here and get it right. Once I am satisfied, you get your family, go into hiding and hope to never see me again. Because if you do, it means you are about to die."

 

The doctor presses a button on the phone. "Would you send Justin back, please?" He walks to a nearby terminal and begins making a new recombinant viral cocktail. It takes him ten minutes.  He walks up to Justin after leaving a synthesis system and loads an air-pistol injector. "He will be slightly feverish and sick while the new viral infection removes the previous transformations. It will pass. Can I go now?"

 

I run across the room and jump up to the table, and continue my leap onto the doctor and knock him to the floor. I bite him about the neck with my steel teeth and inject him. He screams and writhes in pain. But it is momentary and then he is still. He can hear every word I say.

 

"What I have injected you with will last about ten minutes and then you will be able to move again. It will also counteract the earlier poison. Can't have you calling anyone. I am a machine of my word. In one hundred and twenty minutes, your family will be able to walk out of that building and no technology will see them. If anything happens to my boy, no technology will be able to hide you. Blink if you understand me." He blinks, with tears in his eyes.

 

I looked up at Justin and he is already starting to sweat. "Let's go, kid, before you start to get really sick."

 

"Good luck, Doctor. Pray we never meet again." 

 

MODOC - Part 9 - Public Gatherings

 

'Metal Organism Designed only for Cuddling' © Thaddeus Howze 2010. All Rights Reserved

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having a GAGUT feeling.

I have in my pattern recog practice, read many documents, seen many videos. I'll tell you what causes the mental shift in perspective. You listen to a college trained person speak in the way Euro centers taught them. Then you listen to both college trained and self taught persons talk in a more street toned language saying similarly the same things. You usually feel as if you are standing on the pyramid peak during an energy serge while hearing rap-music and the guy next door is schooling you. Well I like to report while it still fresh. Dr. Gabriel Audu Oyibo is a Nigerian mathematician who solved the Grand Unification Theory - popularly known as the "Theory of Everything"I listened to his main video and was floored, the God Almighty Grand Unification Theory (GAGUT) is quite interesting.
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First Chapter of My YA story

I'm currently working on a YA scifi series and frankly  am not sue if it is any good. It's a "space opera" I love those, they are just fun to me and I thought I'd post my first chapter, so that I can get some honest feedback. So please everybody, let me know what you think.

 

One

“Worlds are birthed in coldness, but die in blood and fire.”

-Old Maraudan Proverb.

 

Harcadia Colony, The Edge

United Republic of Planets

 

     The ash from the burning Bargel colony was falling on the land like a dark, dry rainstorm. Tara was horrified by the images before her and while the sights around her were quickly becoming one horrific blur, she could not tune out the loud shrieks of the human and Bargel colonists who were falling under their attackers’ relentless assault. She tried to raise her body off the ground, but her head was pounding, and her legs no longer seemed to work. Tiny red rocks were grinding into her brown legs as she slowly crawled forward, and for the first time, the deep red sand that sprawled across the Bargel’s half of the planet held no beauty for her. Her braids were sticking to her forehead, but she didn’t seem to have the energy to push them back. She noticed large blotches of blood on her legs and fought back a surge of panic.

     Was she hurt? Was the wound fatal?

     She traced the path of the blood. Yes, her legs were scared, but the wounds did not seem deep enough to create this type of bleeding. She looked at the blood on her fingers.

      Blue? 

     Human blood was not blue. She rolled over and nearly screamed at the sight of the dead Bargel lying beside her. Its rough, hairless gray skin was soaked in its blood and its legs were clearly broken. A tear escaped her eyes as she realized what had happened. Unlike her and the other humans in the colony, the Bargel were being slaughtered without mercy. She knew though, that he colony had not fallen without a fight. The Bargel were known for their toughness and had been one of the last races of Albys to fall in the Unification War.

     The heat was starting to get to Tara as she continued to crawl. The orange sky seemed redder then it ever had, even as the usual afternoon rain shower began to fall. Tara knew at once that it was a sign that Yah was crying for her world.

      She let out a disgusted laugh.

      When the attacks began, her people fled to this side of the planet in hopes that the savages they mocked and isolated would be able to protect them, but Tara now knew that this part of the planet would hold no salvation for anyone. She was so tired, but she forced herself forward. She had to find a place to hide and some how wait out the attacks. She had only moved a few metrics when she heard a faint cry.

       It was an old, human woman.

       Her thick braids, more gray then black, were matted across her brown forehead. Tara crawled over to the woman. The old woman was bruised and battered, her clothes were torn and her face was full of terror. Tara wished she could do something, anything to ease the old woman’s suffering, but she knew all she could do was be there.

“Help me,” the old woman whispered, her terrified gaze intensifying with every word. The old woman pleaded for help again, but this time the plea was not to her. Tara looked behind her, frozen in fear, as one of her planet's conquerors advanced towards her. She could see the soldiers now. Their gold chest plates were glistening in the sun and the bare legs that hung out of their navy blue pleated skirts were a dark brown and their hair…Tara let out a loud gasp.

       They were bald! They were humans. Maraudans. Her own people were trying to destroy her. The revelation shocked Tara. For some reason she expected these monsters to be Albys.

    “Help me,” pleaded the woman again.

    “I will,” promised Tara, squeezing her hand. “I’ll get help.”

      But before she could move, a dark figure approached. Tara could tell by her strides that she was a woman. The dark figure was wearing the same type of military gear that the soldiers wore, but you could see her long braids coming out of her gold, fitted helmet. She walked like she owned the air, the ground, and the universe. She was the most beautiful thing that Tara had ever seen.

     “It looks like we have another wounded animal,” said the Dark One.

      “Help me please,” begged the old woman, her voice cracking with every sentence. “My daughter… I need to get to my daughter.”

     “I don’t think you’ll have much luck finding your daughter in all this,” the Dark One sneered.

       The old woman began to shake.  “Please, Your Highness. Please have mercy on me. I have been loyal to my Maraudan heritage and to you. I fought with your father during the Great War. Please command this mighty army…tell them…they can find my daughter...help me.”

    The Dark One’s brown eyes hardened. “Alright I’ll help. I always want to help a loyal citizen of the Empire.”

    The Dark One moved to her side and produced a blast pistol. Tara couldn’t breathe.

    “I’ll help put you out of your misery,” she laughed, firing a ray from her blast pistol into the old woman’s chest.

     Tara did not have to look down at her to know that she was dead.

     “I just hate to see animals suffer don’t you?” she asked, turning to Tara. “A loyal citizen of the Empire would be in Maraudan space.”

     “She was just a poor injured woman,” said Tara, in a courageous tone she didn’t feel.        

     “She couldn’t have done anything to you.”

      “I didn’t say she could.”

       The Dark One’s smile chilled Tara’s very soul.

      “I suppose you are going to kill me, too.”

      “Maybe.”

     Tara fought back her fear. She used all the strength inside of her to pull herself up. She was Tara from the House of Yaronn. If she was going to die she was going to meet her fate with dignity.

    “Why are you doing this?”

     It wasn’t a plea, just a simple question.

    The Dark One leaned over Tara and she could feel her breathe in her ear. “I did this to send a message Little One.”

    “What message is that?”

     The Dark One’s words were slow and deliberate. “That we are back.”

     Tara opened her mouth to protest but she felt a burning sensation in her chest. She felt herself drop to her knees and looked up as the Dark One, her queen, walked away from her. She didn’t see the look of small regret that flickered on the young queen’s face, nor did she hear the cries of the wailing baby whose mother had been shot just two metrics away from her. By then, Tara was already gone.

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