TO THE SHORES OF TRIPLE, LEE! - Ray Gun Revival
TO THE SHORES OF TRIPLE, LEE! - Ray Gun Revival
TO THE SHORES OF TRIPLE, LEE! - Ray Gun Revival
You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles
YUMPU automatically turns print PDFs into web optimized ePapers that Google loves.
“Young Ones”<br />
by Selena Thomason<br />
“<strong>TO</strong> <strong>THE</strong> <strong>SHORES</strong> <strong>OF</strong> <strong>TRIPLE</strong>, <strong>LEE</strong>!”<br />
by A.M. Stickel<br />
Deuces Wild 02, “Reluctant Allies, Part Two”<br />
by L. S. King<br />
Jasper Squad 02, “When In Wroume”<br />
by Paul Christian Glenn<br />
THRILLING TALES FROM BEYOND <strong>THE</strong> E<strong>THE</strong>R Pg.<br />
“Fragment in Space,” by Michel Merza<br />
Issue 03<br />
August 1, 2006<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03
Table of Contents<br />
Overlord’s Lair......3<br />
Young Ones......4<br />
<strong>TO</strong> <strong>THE</strong> <strong>SHORES</strong> <strong>OF</strong> <strong>TRIPLE</strong>, <strong>LEE</strong>!......14<br />
Deuces Wild, Reluctant Allies: Part Two by L. S. King......19<br />
Featured Artist, Michel Merza, aka DKF......25<br />
Jasper Squad, Episode Two: When in Wroume, by Paul Christian Glenn......27<br />
The Jolly RGR......33<br />
Overlords (Founders): L. S. King, Johne Cook, Paul Christian Glenn<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> Radio: Taylor Kent - founder, director, and producer, all things audio<br />
John “JesusGeek” Wilkerson - RGR Disinformation Specialist<br />
Venerable Staff:<br />
A.M. Stickel - Managing Copyeditor<br />
Mike Loos - Proofreader, Technical Lead – PocketRGR;<br />
Walter Rosenfeld - Proofreader<br />
Matthew McConley - Proofreader<br />
Paul Christian Glenn - PR, sounding board, strong right hand, newshound<br />
L. S. King - copyeditor, proofreader, beloved nag, muse, webmistress<br />
Johne Cook - art wrangler, desktop publishing, editorials, chief, cook, and bottle washer<br />
Slushmasters (Submissions Editors): Taylor Kent, Scott M. Sandridge, David Wilhelms<br />
Serial Authors: Sean T. M. Stiennon, Lee S. King, Paul Christian Glenn, Johne Cook<br />
Cover Art: “Fragments in Space,” by Michel Merza<br />
Without Whom... Bill Snodgrass, site host, Web-Net Solutions, admin, webmaster, database admin, mentor,<br />
confidante, liaison – Double-edged Publishing<br />
Special Thanks: <strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> logo design by Hatchbox Creative<br />
Visit us online at http://raygunrevival.com<br />
Rev: b20060802<br />
All content copyright 2006 by Double-edged Publishing,<br />
a Memphis, Tennessee-based non-profit publisher.<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.
Overlord’s Lair<br />
by the <strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> Overlords<br />
The Missing Sense of Wonder<br />
We at <strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> have been thinking<br />
a lot lately about what it is about space<br />
opera that is different than regular fantasy or scifi.<br />
It seems to us that one of the big advantages is<br />
in the concept of the ‘sense of wonder.’<br />
For my part, I think of all those great old works<br />
like Doc Smith’s Lensman series or the adventures<br />
of John Carter, Warlord of Mars, from Edgar<br />
Rice Burroughs. It seemed like there were new<br />
wonders around every page, and that encouraged<br />
me to dream big dreams.<br />
But something happened along the way. As<br />
sci-fi matured, it also lost its sense of wonder<br />
somewhere along the way.<br />
But what is this ‘sense of wonder’?<br />
I recently read that the term ‘sense of wonder,’<br />
as it relates to fiction, was actually coined by Hugo<br />
Gernsback himself to describe science fiction (yes,<br />
that Hugo, the man after whom the most prestigious<br />
science fiction award is named after).<br />
Ironic, that.<br />
One modern definition for Sense of Wonder<br />
goes like this:<br />
“The Sense Of Wonder comes not from<br />
brilliant writing, nor even from brilliant<br />
conceptualising; it comes from a sudden<br />
opening of a closed door in the reader’s<br />
mind. [...] Arguably, almost any Sense Of<br />
Wonder-producing case embedded in an<br />
SF text, no matter how weak that text<br />
may be elsewhere, could be analysed to<br />
show a comparable forcing of Conceptual<br />
Breakthrough.” -- John Clute, in The<br />
Encyclopaedia Of SF<br />
Think of it as the ‘Aha’ moment, the sudden<br />
glow from the metaphoric light bulb.<br />
I’ve read on one website that a Sense Of Wonder<br />
can be evoked in one’s mind by all sorts of things,<br />
including:<br />
• Futuristic technology<br />
• Deep space<br />
• Alien life<br />
• Changes of scale or perspective<br />
And while all that makes sense, as Overlords,<br />
we couldn’t help but feel there was something<br />
missing, something in addition to that definition.<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
You can get all those things in sci-fi, but space<br />
opera has a flair for the dramatic, going a little<br />
large, pulling out all the stops, and having a grand<br />
time while doing it.<br />
It was that sense of emotional involvement in<br />
tandem (or defiance!) of a mental awareness that<br />
has been pestering us since we started thinking<br />
about these matters. And then, the answer came<br />
up in conversation. When talking about what the<br />
difference was between sci-fi and space opera,<br />
the answer popped right out: “Science fiction<br />
uses space, technology and other worlds to stimulate<br />
your mind. Space opera uses the same tools<br />
to stimulate your heart.”<br />
The dictionary provides a word that seems<br />
to capture that burst of insight and inspiration;<br />
Epiphany: “A comprehension or perception of<br />
reality by means of a sudden intuitive realization.”<br />
That’s the kind of insight that can rock you from<br />
your toes to your ears.<br />
Space opera is all about taking ideas that<br />
traditional sci-fi wouldn’t touch with a ten foot<br />
sliderule and finding value therein, and adventure,<br />
and a rip-roaring good time. That’s how<br />
we can accept light sabers and anti-grav speeders<br />
and semi-sentient droids without demanding<br />
schematics and diagrams for the principles that<br />
would allow those things to work. If the characters<br />
and the situations ring true, we can accept<br />
the premise and be swept along for the ride.<br />
Think of that as the sudden opening of a closed<br />
door in the reader’s heart, as well as his mind.<br />
That may explain how a simple story with<br />
basic plot holes and logical errors can resonate so<br />
fiercely, why we can accept the idea of a mythic<br />
power like The Force but are repelled when<br />
such a concept is rationalized away down into a<br />
concentration of Midichlorians.<br />
What we bring you at <strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> is<br />
fiction that captures the best of both worlds, the<br />
opening of closed doors in mind and heart.<br />
So look sharp and enjoy the ride—we’re just<br />
getting started.<br />
The <strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> Overlords
Young Ones<br />
by Selena Thomason<br />
Historian’s note: The events of “Young Ones”<br />
take place shortly after those of “Verid.”<br />
Verid stared at the human reflection<br />
in the mirror. She still wasn’t used to<br />
it. But that was part of the Experimentation<br />
Phase, trying on different forms and learning<br />
about them. All in preparation for The Choosing.<br />
One thing seemed obvious; she wouldn’t<br />
chose human form permanently. Something<br />
about it just annoyed her.<br />
However, the humans themselves were<br />
interesting. After the incident with the Elani,<br />
Captain Merrimore had agreed to let her stay<br />
on board the Hawking so she could learn<br />
more about humans, and so the captain could<br />
learn more about the Kedru. It was a mutually<br />
beneficial relationship.<br />
Her com beeped. Then she heard Merrimore’s<br />
voice.<br />
“Verid, would you join us on the bridge?”<br />
His voice sounded agitated. Or was it<br />
worried? Verid was still new to humans and<br />
their vocal tones were proving difficult for her<br />
to read. Their facial expressions were easier,<br />
but Verid suspected that was because with<br />
the proximity she also got a little bit of information<br />
telepathically. It wasn’t anything as<br />
clear as what she sensed with other Kedru,<br />
and certainly not the sort of link she could<br />
expect with a permanent mate. But it was<br />
something, a sense of what they were feeling<br />
and thinking. And that made making sense of<br />
their facial expressions much easier.<br />
Verid left her quarters and headed towards<br />
the bridge. “What’s wrong?”<br />
“Ensign Brody didn’t come back from the<br />
expedition. He got separated from the others<br />
while they were shopping for supplies on the<br />
promenade. Mitchell and Baty saw him being<br />
dragged away by a couple of aliens. They followed<br />
but lost him in the crowd.”<br />
“I’ll be right there.”<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
Minutes later Verid stepped onto the<br />
bridge. One look at Merrimore’s face confirmed<br />
that he was worried, not agitated.<br />
Lt. Craig was giving a status report from his<br />
communications console. “Sir, Shuttle Three<br />
is heading back now. I’m scanning the station<br />
for Brody’s signal.”<br />
A slight shakiness in his voice betrayed<br />
his place as the youngest, least experienced<br />
person on the bridge crew. Verid made note<br />
of the vocal tic and its meaning for future reference.<br />
She felt for Lt. Craig. He was in an awkward<br />
spot. Even though he wasn’t the lowestranking<br />
bridge officer, he was the one with<br />
the least amount of flight experience. The<br />
helmsman, Ensign Santos, hadn’t applied to<br />
the Academy until after he had spent five<br />
years flying commercial cargo runs. Lt. Craig<br />
often wished he had done the same.<br />
“Let me know as soon as you find it,” Merrimore<br />
said from his usual place at command.<br />
Verid had an idea of what might have happened.<br />
“The people who took him, what did<br />
they look like?”<br />
Cdr. Michaelson offered the details from<br />
her station. “Mitchell said they had yellow<br />
and brown skin.” Noting confusion on Merrimore’s<br />
face, she added, “He said their skin<br />
wasn’t a solid color, that it was mottled, yellow<br />
and brown swirled together.”<br />
Merrimore raised an eyebrow. Verid<br />
guessed that meant humans tended to have<br />
skin that was a solid color. Looking at the<br />
humans around her, that did seem to be<br />
the case. Humans came in a wide variety of<br />
colors, but each person’s skin was only one<br />
color overall. She was surprised she hadn’t<br />
noticed that before.<br />
“Did they also have brown fur along the<br />
bottom sides of their faces and down the<br />
back of their necks?” Verid asked.<br />
Cdr. Michaelson didn’t seem to know. She<br />
shrugged and waited for Lt. Cdr. Mitchell to<br />
reply through the com. Apparently, he was
“Young Ones”, by Selena Thomason<br />
listening in from the shuttle. “Yep, short<br />
brown fur on the face and neck,” he replied.<br />
“And hands with three fingers plus an opposable<br />
thumb?”<br />
“I didn’t get a good look at their hands, but<br />
I think so.”<br />
Verid turned to Merrimore. “It’s probably<br />
Maridians, then. Unfortunately, that’s<br />
trouble.”<br />
Verid saw more anxiety leap into Merrimore’s<br />
face and felt a sudden need to reassure<br />
him.<br />
“Well, they won’t hurt him,” she added<br />
quickly. “They will try to sell him off. Maridians<br />
are thieves mostly, but lately they have<br />
gotten into procuring fighters for the sports<br />
corps.” Verid saw confusion in their faces. She<br />
couldn’t blame them. It didn’t make sense<br />
to her either. She tried to explain it anyway.<br />
“One of the Maridians’ favorite pastimes is<br />
watching people fight. Physical altercations,<br />
I mean.”<br />
“Like boxing?” Merrimore asked.<br />
“I don’t recognize that term. But each corp<br />
chooses a fighter, then they place the two<br />
combatants in a cage and let them brawl until<br />
one of them is incapacitated.”<br />
“Sure sounds like boxing,” Michaelson<br />
commented wryly from her station.<br />
“So,” Merrimore began, “you think they<br />
took Brody to be one of their fighters?”<br />
“Yes. He is young and strong, likely to be a<br />
good fighter. Plus he is a species they haven’t<br />
seen before, which would make him even<br />
more valuable. Novelty sells, after all.”<br />
Lt. Craig turned from his console. “Sir, I<br />
think I’ve found him.”<br />
Merrimore tried the com. “Ensign Brody,<br />
come in.”<br />
There was no response.<br />
“He’s not answering, sir, but I located his<br />
signal. It’s on one of the lower levels, looks<br />
like a landing bay. Wait, he’s moving.”<br />
A small ship detached from the station<br />
and sped away.<br />
“Captain, he’s on that ship.”<br />
“Follow them.”<br />
Ensign Santos quickly sent the Hawking in<br />
pursuit. But the Maridian ship continued to<br />
pull away.<br />
“Stay with them, Ensign.”<br />
“I’m trying, sir.”<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
Michaelson pointed to something on the<br />
screen. “Anyone else see the problem in this<br />
scenario?”<br />
The on-screen smudge quickly became a<br />
band of rocks.<br />
Merrimore put the problem into words,<br />
“An asteroid belt,” while everyone else stared<br />
silently at the obstacle in their path.<br />
“We won’t be able to follow them in there,”<br />
the first officer said finally.<br />
“I know,” Merrimore replied quietly as the<br />
smaller Maridian ship disappeared into the<br />
rubble. He exhaled in what seemed to be a<br />
gesture of frustration.<br />
“It’s okay. I know where they will go.” Verid<br />
moved to the helm and pointed at something<br />
on the panel. “There, set a course for that<br />
system. That’s where the sporting complex is.<br />
Sooner or later that’s where Brody will be.”<br />
“Sooner or later?” Michaelson asked.<br />
“Probably sooner. They will want to start<br />
making money off Ensign Brody right away.<br />
If you monitor their com channels, you can<br />
probably even pick up when his first fight will<br />
be.” “You mean they will advertise that they<br />
have him?” Merrimore said. “But wouldn’t<br />
that lead us right to them?”<br />
“It won’t be as easy as you think. They are<br />
overconfident perhaps, but it isn’t without<br />
cause. The Maridians have a somewhat protected<br />
status in these parts. And abducting<br />
aliens to use as fighters is, well, commonplace.<br />
The authorities won’t help you get Brody back<br />
and there will be more trouble before you get<br />
there. Let me know when we approach Bahiri<br />
territory.”<br />
“How will we recognize it?”<br />
Verid stared at Merrimore. It took her a<br />
moment to remember that the humans had<br />
never heard of the Bahiri and would have no<br />
idea where their territory was, even though<br />
everyone else in this sector did.<br />
“Look for a red giant with five planets. It’s<br />
the first system in their territory. I’ll keep an<br />
eye out also and return to the bridge when<br />
we approach the border. I recommend that<br />
you let me talk to them and not try to negotiate<br />
with them yourself.”<br />
“Why?”<br />
“I just have more experience with them. In<br />
fact, I have been Bahiri. It will be a little while<br />
before we get to their territory, though. So<br />
unless you need anything else…”
“Young Ones”, by Selena Thomason<br />
“No, you can go. We’ll let you know if we<br />
hear from these Bahiri or see the star configuration<br />
you mention.”<br />
As Verid turned to leave, the chief engineer,<br />
Cdr. McGinty, bounded onto the bridge.<br />
“Captain, I heard about the kid.”<br />
Merrimore raised a hand as if to calm him,<br />
“Don’t worry, Mac. We’ll get him back aboard<br />
safe and sound. He’ll be tinkering around in<br />
your engine room in no time.”<br />
“I’d like to join the rescue team, sir, if that’s<br />
okay.”<br />
“We’ll see, Commander. We’ll probably<br />
want to keep the team down to just a couple<br />
people. We’re likely to stick out like a sore<br />
thumb over there. The fewer people we take<br />
in, the better everyone’s chances.”<br />
“But, sir, it’s my fault he got nabbed. He<br />
wouldn’t even have volunteered for that duty<br />
if we hadn’t gotten into that tussle yesterday.”<br />
“That was some argument you two had.<br />
What was it about anyway?”<br />
McGinty looked at the floor and rubbed<br />
the back of his neck. Verid noticed that he<br />
was suddenly avoiding Merrimore’s gaze.<br />
“Just a stupid disagreement that got out of<br />
hand. You know, Cap, we’ve been under a lot<br />
of stress trying to get the repairs finished as<br />
soon as possible, and the upgrades installed...<br />
and the kid, well, he thinks he knows everything,<br />
you know?”<br />
“Don’t they always?” Merrimore replied in<br />
a friendly tone, as if to establish, or perhaps<br />
reinforce, a bond with the engineer.<br />
“We just both lost our tempers. But I’m<br />
the boss,” he pounded his chest a couple<br />
times as if to emphasize the point, “I should<br />
have handled it better. I should have kept my<br />
cool.”<br />
“Well, that’s true.” He placed a hand on<br />
McGinty’s shoulder. “But we can worry about<br />
the finer points of that later. What matters<br />
right now is getting Brody back. Maybe you<br />
can help the search by figuring out how to<br />
expand our sensor range. The sooner we pick<br />
up Brody’s signal, the sooner we can get him<br />
back.”<br />
“Sure thing, Cap. I’ll get right on it.”<br />
McGinty turned to leave and found Verid<br />
still standing at the door. He just nodded at<br />
her and went his way. She thought he seemed<br />
glad to have something to do, some way to<br />
contribute to Brody’s rescue.<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
“Did you need something?” Merrimore’s<br />
voice broke into her thoughts and she realized<br />
he was addressing her.<br />
“No, sorry. Just com me if you need me,”<br />
she replied as she left the bridge.<br />
#<br />
Verid watched the stars change outside her<br />
window. A run-in with the Maridians was bad<br />
luck. She hadn’t been Maridian for very long,<br />
just a few days, but it was long enough to<br />
learn that they were trouble. And the Bahiri,<br />
well…they were their own sort of problem.<br />
She hoped she would know the right thing to<br />
say to soothe their prickly natures.<br />
Verid had only the beginnings of a plan<br />
when she noticed that a large, orange star<br />
had come into view. With a start, Verid realized<br />
she had gotten so wrapped up in formulating<br />
a strategy that she had missed the<br />
crossing into Bahiri territory. Why hadn’t<br />
they commed her?<br />
Just then, they did.<br />
“We’re getting a signal,” Lt. Craig said.<br />
Now you tell me, she thought. “I’m on my<br />
way.”<br />
When she entered the bridge, Merrimore<br />
was already talking to the Bahiri. She was<br />
furious. I told him to wait. But then she remembered<br />
it was, after all, his ship. Who was<br />
she to tell him what to do? Somewhere in the<br />
back of her mind, she knew she was mostly<br />
angry with herself for not paying closer attention.<br />
Still, she wished Merrimore had waited<br />
like she suggested. It wasn’t going very well.<br />
The Lead Bahiri shown on the viewscreen<br />
looked offended and annoyed. Verid had<br />
plenty of experience with Bahiri facial expressions.<br />
Merrimore was being his most diplomatic,<br />
but it wasn’t working. Verid could see<br />
that the Bahiri was becoming increasingly<br />
agitated the more Merrimore spoke. It was<br />
to be expected.<br />
Finally the Bahiri interrupted him. “The<br />
impudence! Who do you think you are?”<br />
“As I said, I’m Captain Michael Merrimore<br />
—” “Such impertinence will not be tolerated<br />
one moment longer!”<br />
The Bahiri broke communications, restoring<br />
the viewer to starfield. The Bahiri ships<br />
began firing warning shots at the Hawking.<br />
“Raise shields, Lieutenant,” Merrimore said<br />
as he stumbled back to his seat. The concus-
“Young Ones”, by Selena Thomason<br />
sions rocking the ship diminished significantly.<br />
“Well, that could have gone better.”<br />
“You should have let me talk to them first.”<br />
“All I did was say hello. I certainly didn’t<br />
expect that reaction.”<br />
“I’m sure that I can smooth this over if you<br />
will let me talk to them.”<br />
“They didn’t seem interested in talking.”<br />
“I’d like to try anyway. Captain, what you<br />
couldn’t possibly know is that the Bahiri consider<br />
themselves a superior life form and are<br />
deeply offended by anyone who approaches<br />
them as equals. Please, Captain, you won’t<br />
win this one by force. Let me speak with<br />
them.”<br />
“Very well. Lt. Craig, open a channel.”<br />
“Modulate your hail to 3.142,” Verid<br />
added.<br />
Merrimore raised an eyebrow at the<br />
mention of pi. Verid took it as a good sign<br />
that he recognized the number.<br />
The lieutenant hesitated and glanced at<br />
Merrimore, who nodded his agreement. The<br />
Lead Bahiri appeared again on screen. Verid<br />
moved in front of the viewer and fell to her<br />
knees.<br />
“Most Exalted One,” she said with her head<br />
bowed.<br />
“You may rise and speak,” the Bahiri<br />
replied.<br />
As Verid stood, she introduced herself. “I<br />
am Verid of the Kedru.”<br />
The Lead Bahiri signaled a cease fire and<br />
the shooting quickly stopped.<br />
“You are a shifter.”<br />
Verid nodded in reply.<br />
“Is this the form you have chosen?”<br />
“No, I am still in Experimentation.”<br />
“Ah, a young one.” The Bahiri actually<br />
smiled then. “When it is time for your Choosing,”<br />
he said slowly, “perhaps you will choose<br />
Bahiri form.”<br />
Verid knew it was a trap. “No, I don’t think<br />
I will choose Bahiri form. I do not feel worthy<br />
of it.”<br />
The Bahiri seemed to consider that the<br />
correct answer. “Quite right. You are quite<br />
right.” He gestured towards her as if inviting<br />
her to speak. “And what business do you<br />
bring before us today, shifter?”<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
“I want to beg forgiveness for myself and<br />
these others.”<br />
“You may proceed.”<br />
“Thank you. You are most gracious. I beg<br />
forgiveness for myself because I am only a<br />
passenger on this vessel and was unaware<br />
that we were approaching the sacred space<br />
of the Bahiri. If I had known, I would have<br />
contacted you sooner.”<br />
“Your error is understandable. You are forgiven.”<br />
“Thank you. You are most gracious. I also<br />
beg forgiveness for these others. They are<br />
strangers to this region. News of the honorable<br />
Bahiri has not yet reached their home<br />
world.”<br />
“Their home must be quite far indeed.”<br />
“Yes, very far, I assure you. Also, they are<br />
new to space travel. As such they have not<br />
yet learned of the great Bahiri or of the proper<br />
protocol for contacting you.”<br />
“Well, we must be understanding of the<br />
young ones, mustn’t we? We can’t expect<br />
primitive cultures to be as knowledgeable as<br />
we are.”<br />
Verid thought he heard Merrimore harrumph<br />
at that. Michaelson’s reaction was a<br />
soft snicker. Verid could almost picture what<br />
their faces looked like at this moment. She<br />
wished she could turn and look, so she would<br />
know for sure. But she knew that this wasn’t<br />
the time.<br />
“You are quite right, Exalted One,” Verid<br />
continued, returning her focus to the Bahiri.<br />
“You are most gracious as always. These<br />
people would like to pass through the sacred<br />
space of the Bahiri. If you allow them to traverse<br />
your territory, I will use the passage to<br />
explain what a great honor has been granted<br />
them.”<br />
“I will consider it,” the Bahiri replied and<br />
began to turn away as if to end the transmission.<br />
It was not the definitive answer Verid had<br />
hoped for. They didn’t have time to wait while<br />
the Bahiri considered their request. That<br />
could take weeks. Ensign Brody couldn’t wait<br />
that long. As strong as Brody was, Verid was<br />
pretty sure he wouldn’t last long in the ring.<br />
She could see plainly that Merrimore and his<br />
crew were concerned for the ensign’s safety,
“Young Ones”, by Selena Thomason<br />
despite any bravado they might display about<br />
his capabilities, or theirs. Verid knew she had<br />
to try something else, but it was risky.<br />
“Most Exalted One, if I may request one<br />
additional favor...”<br />
The Bahiri turned back to the viewscreen.<br />
Annoyance was evident around his eyes once<br />
again. Verid hoped her gambit would not<br />
fail. “You are demanding today, shifter.”<br />
“I know. And I plead for your leniency. If<br />
you would be gracious enough to allow me to<br />
make one more request, I will trouble you no<br />
further.”<br />
“Alright. I am feeling generous. You may<br />
proceed.”<br />
“Thank you, Your Excellency. You are most<br />
gracious. Would you relay a message to Chancellor<br />
Drovin?”<br />
The Bahiri clearly recognized the name.<br />
“What message would you wish to send to<br />
our chancellor?”<br />
“Please tell him that the Kedru grieve for<br />
his recent loss, but that we are confident<br />
he will continue the honorable tradition of<br />
service begun by his father, the former Chancellor<br />
Zelith of the Vorath province. Will you<br />
relay this message to Chancellor Drovin?”<br />
He hesitated a moment. Verid realized<br />
she was holding her breath. “I will relay your<br />
message. You and your friends have my permission<br />
to traverse the sacred space of the<br />
Bahiri.”<br />
“Thank you. You are indeed most gracious.”<br />
“Good travels to you, shifter.”<br />
“And to you as well.”<br />
The channel was closed and the view again<br />
showed starfield and ships. The Bahiri ships<br />
moved away, much to everyone’s relief.<br />
Verid turned to Merrimore. “They won’t<br />
give you any further trouble, Captain.”<br />
“Thanks for your help.”<br />
“It’s a small thing in return for your hospitality.<br />
The Bahiri don’t really mind people<br />
traveling through their space. They just want<br />
you to petition them for it so they can feel as<br />
if they’re bestowing a great honor. It’s ridiculous,<br />
I know, but it’s their way.”<br />
“Why didn’t you ask them about Brody?<br />
Maybe they can help.”<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
“They could, but they won’t. And we<br />
mustn’t trouble the great Bahiri with our petty<br />
little problems.” Verid rolled her eyes at that,<br />
an expression she had recently learned from<br />
Cdr. Michaelson. She didn’t get it quite right,<br />
but Merrimore seemed to understand her<br />
meaning. Verid heard Michaelson chuckle<br />
from her station. “Do you remember when<br />
I said that the Maridians had a protected<br />
status?”<br />
“Yes.”<br />
“Well, it’s the Bahiri who protect them.<br />
The Bahiri consider the Maridians their children—a<br />
younger, less experienced version of<br />
themselves. Both have evolved in this region;<br />
they are very similar genetically. The Bahiri<br />
are just ages ahead of the Maridians in their<br />
development. Actually, to hear the Bahiri tell<br />
it, they are ages ahead of everybody.”<br />
“Anyway, to make matters worse, the Maridians<br />
are in their adolescence at this point, so<br />
the Bahiri have resolved to give them more<br />
freedom, leave them alone as much as possible,<br />
not interfere. In my experience, adolescence<br />
is a difficult time in any species, but<br />
when a whole species is at that stage—well<br />
that’s a dangerous time for everyone around<br />
them. Especially if their parents are trying to<br />
stay out of it. Frankly, I think the Bahiri cut<br />
their children loose too soon for their own<br />
good. Certainly it’s too soon for the welfare<br />
of everyone else in the sector.”<br />
“So, the Bahiri won’t help at all?”<br />
“No. And they won’t listen to any criticism<br />
of their children either. In the Bahiri’s eyes,<br />
the Maridians can do no wrong. Even their<br />
faults are endearing. If you start complaining<br />
to them about the Maridians, you’re likely to<br />
find yourself escorted out of Bahiri territory<br />
at gunpoint.”<br />
“Great.”<br />
“We’ll get Brody back, Captain. Don’t worry.<br />
Adolescents are trouble, but they also tend<br />
to not be very experienced. Between us, I’m<br />
sure we have more than enough knowledge<br />
to outsmart them.”<br />
“Okay. I’ll let you know when we approach<br />
the sporting complex.”<br />
“Thanks.”<br />
#<br />
Verid was in the dining hall—watching as<br />
usual, instead of dining. She didn’t need to
“Young Ones”, by Selena Thomason<br />
eat food, but the process was important to<br />
all monoforms, so was always worth study.<br />
Today she was taking special notice of the<br />
social aspects of the meal ritual, especially<br />
who sat with whom and what was discussed.<br />
She had become particularly interested in<br />
two people who sat in a corner by themselves.<br />
They did something she hadn’t seen before;<br />
they shared their food, ate from each other’s<br />
plates, sometimes even fed each other. Verid<br />
wondered what it meant.<br />
Merrimore came in, but just nodded to her<br />
as he passed. Verid watched as he went over<br />
to where two women were sitting. One had<br />
her head hanging down towards the table.<br />
Her shoulders were shaking a little. Merrimore<br />
placed a hand on her shoulder.<br />
“Don’t worry, Callie,” he said. “We’re going<br />
to get him back.” As Callie looked up at him,<br />
Verid caught a glimpse of her face.<br />
Verid had seen the woman before, but<br />
wouldn’t have known her name. There was<br />
another woman sitting next to Callie; she had<br />
an arm curled protectively around Callie’s<br />
shoulders. Verid couldn’t make out her words<br />
but she seemed to be murmuring reassurance<br />
to her friend.<br />
Merrimore leaned down towards Callie<br />
and said again, “We are going to get him back<br />
Callie, I promise.”<br />
She nodded a little. The shaking in her<br />
shoulders seemed to lessen. “Thank you,<br />
Captain,” she said.<br />
“I’ll keep you posted, okay?”<br />
“Sure. Thanks.”<br />
Merrimore exchanged a look with the<br />
other woman, but Verid couldn’t discern its<br />
meaning. Then he patted Callie’s shoulder<br />
one more time, walked back towards Verid<br />
and sat across the table from her.<br />
Before Verid could ask about the scene<br />
with Callie, Merrimore said, “There’s no sign<br />
of Ensign Brody yet, but we’ll find him.” He<br />
glanced in Callie’s direction. “We have those<br />
sub-dermal transponders implanted for a<br />
reason.”<br />
“It does seem a sensible precaution. How<br />
close do we have to be?”<br />
“Within the same system at least. But Mac<br />
is working on extending that.”<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
Merrimore fell into silence. He seemed<br />
distracted. He looked again towards Callie.<br />
Then he seemed to settle in. Or maybe, Verid<br />
thought, he just felt the need to change<br />
focus, because suddenly he looked up at her<br />
and said, “The Bahiri seemed very surprised<br />
when you mentioned this Drovin.”<br />
“He was. The Bahiri don’t give their names<br />
to outsiders. In their dealings with other cultures<br />
they prefer to be known by their titles.<br />
They consider names to be very personal. It’s<br />
unusual for anyone outside of the Bahiri Confederacy<br />
to know the name of an individual<br />
Bahiri.”<br />
“So, did you know this Drovin?”<br />
“No. But I knew his father, Chancellor<br />
Zelith. When I was on Bahiri Prime, I spent a<br />
good bit of time in his administration. I got to<br />
know him pretty well. He was a good leader.<br />
His death is a great loss.”<br />
“Well, dropping names really did the trick.”<br />
“I wasn’t sure that it would. There is some<br />
dispute about whether Drovin should be<br />
allowed to take his father’s place as chancellor.<br />
By law, his elder sister Torval is next in line.<br />
But Torval has shunned public life since she<br />
was a child. When Zelith died, she refused to<br />
succeed him. It was quite the scandal. Drovin<br />
agreed to take his father’s place, but many of<br />
the Bahiri consider him too young and inexperienced<br />
to lead the government.”<br />
“Is he?”<br />
Verid was silent for a few moments. “He<br />
is young. And inexperienced. But he has a<br />
good soul and he values the needs of the<br />
Bahiri people above his own. So, I think he’ll<br />
do fine.”<br />
Merrimore’s com beeped. It was Lt. Craig.<br />
“Sir, we’re approaching the coordinates.”<br />
“We’re on our way.” #<br />
The sporting complex was huge. It loomed<br />
on the screen even though they were still a<br />
good bit away. Six ships could be seen either<br />
docking or leaving the station. More were<br />
presumably on the other side.<br />
“Report,” Merrimore said as he sat down.<br />
Craig spoke up. “As soon as we entered<br />
the system, we began picking up commercial<br />
transmissions. We just got one that mentions<br />
Brody.”
“Young Ones”, by Selena Thomason<br />
“Let’s see it.”<br />
A yellow and brown face appeared on the<br />
viewscreen. “Valon Corp brings you the first<br />
fight of its kind. Join us at the Markim Arena<br />
on Halk 5 for a conflict like no other, featuring<br />
a fighter like no other. An alien, completely<br />
unknown in this sector, unlike anything you<br />
have seen before.” A picture of Ensign Brody<br />
appeared alongside the announcer.<br />
“Humans, they are called,” the announcer<br />
continued. The date and time of the fight<br />
appeared at the bottom of the screen, along<br />
with “Buy your tickets now” and a string of<br />
numbers. “This fighter’s alien, he’s new, and<br />
he’s definitely more lethal than he looks.<br />
Be the first to see this new breed of fighter.<br />
Markim Arena. Halk 5. Be there.”<br />
The commercial ended and the screen<br />
again showed the sporting complex.<br />
“Halk 5 is only a couple days away,” Verid<br />
said. “We have to move quickly.”<br />
“More lethal than he looks?” Merrimore<br />
grumbled, then in a softer tone added, “At<br />
least he looks okay.”<br />
“I told you they wouldn’t hurt him,” Verid<br />
nearly whispered. “As for the commercial,<br />
Akil is a fight promoter, not a poet. The good<br />
news is that he heads one of the bigger corps.<br />
They have the resources to take good care of<br />
Brody.”<br />
Merrimore walked to Lt. Craig’s station<br />
and hovered over him. “Have you found him<br />
yet?”<br />
The young lieutenant seemed to be quailing<br />
under the constant pressure of trying to<br />
locate Brody. His hands shook slightly on the<br />
console. He looked like if he had to say, “No,<br />
not yet” one more time, he might crack.<br />
Merrimore seemed to notice it too and<br />
stepped back a bit.<br />
“Um, no sir,” Craig stammered. “Not yet.<br />
The station is pretty big. It may take a while<br />
to get an exact location, even after we start<br />
picking up his signal.”<br />
“Okay, lieutenant. Just keep looking and<br />
let me know as soon as you find anything.”<br />
“Will do, sir.”<br />
#<br />
Less than an hour later, Craig finally received<br />
a hit from Brody’s transponder.<br />
Pg. 0<br />
“He’s in the Maridian ship presently docking<br />
with the station,” Craig told them. Verid<br />
couldn’t help but notice that the lieutenant’s<br />
hands had stopped shaking.<br />
Merrimore’s face brightened. Verid realized<br />
that the waiting had been getting to him.<br />
“Great,” he said, “let’s get this rescue mission<br />
under way!”<br />
“They’re moving him,” Lt. Craig called from<br />
his station, a slight note of panic returning to<br />
his voice.<br />
“They won’t leave the station,” Verid interjected.<br />
“They are probably just moving him<br />
into lodgings. It’s standard procedure. They<br />
house all the fighters in a central dormitory.”<br />
“Keep track of him, Lieutenant.” Merrimore<br />
turned to Verid. “How do you know so<br />
much about the Maridians and this sporting<br />
complex?”<br />
Verid shrugged. “Captain, I’ve been Maridian.<br />
And I’ve visited this station several times.<br />
It’s a good place for people-watching.”<br />
“Are there any species in this sector that<br />
you haven’t been?”<br />
“None that I know of.”<br />
Merrimore laughed and turned to his first<br />
officer. “Cdr. Michaelson, I want you to begin<br />
mapping the station and download it to an<br />
HC. I want to have a route planned between<br />
our entry point and wherever Brody ends up.<br />
Plus, I want some alternate escape routes just<br />
in case.”<br />
“I’m on it,” Michaelson replied.<br />
#<br />
Verid knew that getting onto the station<br />
would be the easy part. People were always<br />
coming and going, and security was just<br />
for show. Anyone who had currency was<br />
welcome; she had learned that on her first<br />
visit.<br />
She was also not concerned about determining<br />
where Brody was being held. Between<br />
his sub-dermal transponder and her prior experience<br />
with the complex, that part wouldn’t<br />
be much of a challenge.<br />
What would be difficult was getting into<br />
the dormitory where the fighters were housed<br />
or, more accurately, imprisoned. That would<br />
take a little bit of ingenuity since the lodgings<br />
were heavily guarded. After all, the Marid-<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03
“Young Ones”, by Selena Thomason<br />
ians valued their fighters. Fortunately, she<br />
had a plan.<br />
As she and Merrimore prepared to leave<br />
the Hawking, Verid reached into her pack and<br />
pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Turn around,”<br />
she instructed Merrimore.<br />
“What else have you got in there?” he<br />
replied, leaning in as if to take a look.<br />
“Nothing exciting, I assure you,” she said,<br />
gently turning him away. “Just a couple relig<br />
cloaks. They’ll help you and Brody blend in<br />
on our way out of here.”<br />
“What’s a relig?” Merrimore asked Verid<br />
as she cuffed his hands behind his back.<br />
“It means a person who belongs to a religious<br />
order. There are always a few of them<br />
around the complex, trying to turn people<br />
from their wicked ways. There. The cuffs feel<br />
okay?”<br />
“They’re fine. Are you sure about this?”<br />
“It’s the easiest way.” Her fighter thus<br />
secured, she morphed into Maridian form.<br />
At the dorm’s entrance, a Maridian guard<br />
stopped them, but it was out of curiosity, not<br />
security.<br />
“Hey, I thought there was only one of those<br />
new fighters,” he said as he stood and moved<br />
to block their path.<br />
“That’s old news, my friend. I found<br />
another. See?” Verid pushed Merrimore in<br />
front of her as if to display her merchandise.<br />
“And my fighter is bigger and stronger than<br />
that rookie Akil and his buddies have been<br />
advertising.”<br />
“When’s his first fight?”<br />
“Still scheduling it. Probably later in the<br />
week, after Akil’s fighter has had his debut.<br />
Then we’ll show them what this new species<br />
can really do.”<br />
“What are they called again?”<br />
“Humans.”<br />
“Humans.” The guard wrinkled his nose<br />
and shook his head. “That’s a terrible name.”<br />
“I know. I’m thinking I’ll come up with<br />
something different, something with a little<br />
more flash. For now, I just have to get him<br />
secured in a room so I can start making plans.<br />
Get the fight set, you know?”<br />
“Of course. I’ll be looking for your match.<br />
Good luck.” The guard stepped aside.<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
“Hey, don’t tell Akil, okay? I want it to be a<br />
surprise.” A devilish smile passed the guard’s<br />
lips as Verid handed him a few coins. “A little<br />
something for you, so you can bet on the<br />
fight. Just choose the right fighter. My guy,<br />
you know?”<br />
“Definitely,” he replied. “This one looks<br />
like a winner.”<br />
When they were out of earshot, Merrimore<br />
said, “Not bad.”<br />
Verid removed his cuffs.<br />
“It worked, didn’t it? Now, where does that<br />
hand computer of yours say Brody is?”<br />
“Down two levels, on the left.”<br />
When they got to the door, Merrimore<br />
pulled off the lock panel and started fiddling<br />
with the wiring.<br />
Verid couldn’t fathom the intent of his<br />
actions. “What are you doing?”<br />
“Trying to get the door open.”<br />
“Is he alone in there?”<br />
Merrimore stopped and pointed the HC at<br />
the door. “Looks like it. I’m only showing one<br />
heat signature.” Merrimore tapped his com.<br />
“Brody, you there?”<br />
Brody’s voice sounded over the com.<br />
“Captain. Yeah, I’m here. Where are you?”<br />
“Just outside the door. Can you let us in?”<br />
“No, I’m chained to the far wall.”<br />
“You alone in there?”<br />
“Yes.”<br />
“Okay, hang on. We’re going to figure a<br />
way in.”<br />
Merrimore went back to working on the<br />
lock panel. Verid placed a hand on his arm to<br />
stop him. “Captain, there is no need. You are<br />
thinking like a monoform. Allow me.”<br />
Verid’s Maridian form dissolved into a<br />
gaseous cloud and oozed under the door.<br />
Once inside, Verid could see Brody’s frightened<br />
form at the other end of the room. She<br />
quickly changed back to Maridian form. “It’s<br />
me, Verid.” Some of the fear drained from<br />
Brody’s face.<br />
“Don’t worry, Ensign. We’re going to get<br />
you out of here.”<br />
She opened the door and Merrimore came<br />
in. “Nice work,” he said to her as he made<br />
his way towards Brody. He knelt beside the<br />
ensign and started looking at the mechanism
“Young Ones”, by Selena Thomason<br />
that chained him to the wall. “How you doing,<br />
Ensign?”<br />
“Okay. Sure am glad you’re here, though.”<br />
Merrimore found the bolt that connected<br />
Brody to the wall, and unhooked it. His hands<br />
were still tied behind his back, but at least he<br />
was no longer attached to the wall.<br />
“Turn around,” Merrimore said. “Let me<br />
see.”<br />
Brody’s hands and feet were bound by<br />
some kind of magnetic cuffs, but after a few<br />
moments Merrimore was able to find the<br />
release and remove them.<br />
Verid pulled the cloaks out of her bag.<br />
“Here, put these on.” Verid went to the door<br />
to make sure no one was in the hall. “Which<br />
way does your map say we should go?”<br />
Merrimore glanced at the hand comp.<br />
“Left, further down the hallway. There’s a<br />
door that leads to the arena. The security’s<br />
tight getting in from the audience, but there<br />
isn’t any coming from this direction.”<br />
“Alright, let’s go.”<br />
They hurried down the hallway towards<br />
the arena. Suddenly, they heard a shout<br />
behind them.<br />
“Hey! You there! What are you doing back<br />
here?”<br />
Verid turned to see Akil and two other<br />
Maridians coming their way.<br />
Merrimore reached for his sidearm, but<br />
Verid quickly stopped him. “No,” she exclaimed,<br />
“If we fire on them, the Bahiri will<br />
have a fit. We’ll never get out of the sector<br />
alive.” She nodded further ahead to the set of<br />
doors. “We just have to get through there.”<br />
“Alright then, I guess we make a run for it.”<br />
He pushed Brody ahead of him and all three<br />
of them broke into a dead run towards the<br />
exit.<br />
The Maridians were only a handful of<br />
strides away when they got to the double<br />
doors. Once they were on the other side of<br />
the entry, Merrimore turned to Verid. “Handcuffs.<br />
Hurry!”<br />
Verid didn’t catch his plan at first but<br />
handed them over anyway. Merrimore quickly<br />
hooked the cuffs through the door handles.<br />
He got them locked just as the Maridians<br />
pounded on the doors. He jumped back, but<br />
the cuffs held the doors closed.<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
“Get moving!” he yelled when he turned<br />
to see Verid and Brody standing there, staring<br />
at him. “What? You think that’s gonna last?<br />
Run!”<br />
The three of them sprinted through the<br />
empty arena and didn’t even turn to look<br />
when it sounded like the Mardians had finally<br />
broken through the door. Moments later they<br />
exited onto the crowded promenade and disappeared<br />
gratefully into the mass of people.<br />
They moved quickly through the throng, only<br />
occasionally catching glimpses of their pursuers.<br />
Before long, it seemed that the Maridians<br />
had lost track of them, but Merrimore<br />
wouldn’t let his team slow down until they<br />
reached the Hawking.<br />
Cdr. Michaelson commed Merrimore just<br />
as they stepped through the docking hatch.<br />
“All aboard?” she asked.<br />
“All aboard. Break away from the station<br />
and leave the system as fast as you can. I’m<br />
sure it won’t be long before someone reports<br />
our unauthorized transport of that hot, new<br />
fighter everyone’s talking about.” He slapped<br />
Brody on the shoulder. Brody returned a<br />
slightly embarrassed smile.<br />
“Aye, aye, Captain. We’re disengaging<br />
from the station now. And heading out of the<br />
system, best speed. And then some.”<br />
Verid thought she could almost hear the<br />
twinkle in Michaelson’s eyes when she said<br />
that last bit. Maybe Verid was getting better<br />
at reading their voices after all.<br />
#<br />
Back onboard, the doctor examined Ensign<br />
Brody and pronounced him a little shook up,<br />
but otherwise fine. Merrimore brought the<br />
news to Verid as she sat in the dining hall,<br />
watching the humans eat. One person had<br />
small, burning sticks in her food.<br />
Verid pointed at the odd sight. “What does<br />
that mean?” She asked.<br />
Merrimore looked where she was pointing.<br />
“Oh, it’s Callie’s birthday. The ritual is<br />
that the person makes a wish then blows out<br />
the candles. If she blows all of the candles<br />
out in one try, supposedly her wish will come<br />
true.”<br />
“Does it work?”<br />
“Never has for me.”<br />
“What do you think she wished for?”
“Young Ones”, by Selena Thomason<br />
Merrimore laughed. “Probably for Ensign<br />
Brody not to ever get captured again.”<br />
Verid finally noticed the person sitting next<br />
to Callie was Ensign Brody. Verid could see<br />
his face as he turned and placed his mouth<br />
briefly on Callie’s cheek. Callie then laid her<br />
head on his shoulder.<br />
There was something there, Verid realized.<br />
Something she hadn’t noticed before. Then<br />
Callie cut off a piece of the cake with her fork<br />
and fed it to Ensign Brody. There it is again,<br />
she thought, but what does it mean?<br />
Merrimore tapped Verid on the shoulder.<br />
“I’m going over to say hello. Do you want<br />
to…?”<br />
Verid shook her head. She preferred to<br />
watch the scene from afar.<br />
Humans are so strange, she thought as she<br />
watched Merrimore join the party.<br />
Selena Thomason<br />
Selena Thomason writes mostly science fiction, but<br />
sometimes feels called to other forms and genres.<br />
Although she holds a B.A. in Drama, writing continues<br />
to be her first love. Selena is Managing Editor at<br />
Dragons, Knights, and Angels magazine.<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.
<strong>TO</strong> <strong>THE</strong> <strong>SHORES</strong> <strong>OF</strong> <strong>TRIPLE</strong>, <strong>LEE</strong>!<br />
by A.M. Stickel<br />
“Aw-right, Defectives, fall in! Welcome to<br />
Camp Alpha. I’m Sergeant Lee… That’s ‘Sir’ to<br />
the likes o’ you greenies.”<br />
“Sir, yes Sir!” we sang out, hating Lee<br />
already with all that was in us.<br />
Still groggy from our passage through the<br />
light gate, we raw recruits looked around,<br />
entranced by the stark wilderness. Triple was<br />
a planet aptly named, being only marginally<br />
larger than the furthest of its double-moon<br />
sister bodies. Both visible by day, they hung in<br />
the blue above almost close enough to crush<br />
us. Unofficially dubbed by us Cue and Eight,<br />
our scientists had named them Primus and<br />
Secundus in a language older than the game<br />
of pool.<br />
After Lee finished putting us through<br />
pointless drills to check what he called our<br />
‘cellular reintegration,’ we got the “At ease,<br />
Troopers.”<br />
The red-and-brown striated rock where<br />
we’d made camp looked to me like salt water<br />
taffy frozen in mid-pull. My buddy, Reston,<br />
said it reminded him of old chewing gum<br />
gone mad. But our relaxation was brief.<br />
“Hor—USS! Guard duty.” I yessir’d Lee and<br />
quickly took up my position opposite Private<br />
Solberg’s on the high rocks above the camp,<br />
becoming part of Triple’s sculpted landscape<br />
in my red-brown camo.<br />
Reston was assigned to dome-setup. After<br />
saluting Lee, he slouched off halfheartedly<br />
with the others and a mumbled, “See ya’<br />
later, Horse.”<br />
We did meet again a few Terran hours<br />
later in the chow line, where I intended to do<br />
right by my nickname. Private Wolfe, across<br />
the table from me, dug into her share and<br />
honored her own handle, ignoring Reston<br />
and I as we elbowed each other and winked.<br />
Finally, we just gave up and carried our trays<br />
outside into the warm sunshine.<br />
“When do you think the Dryl and the E-Lur<br />
will join the party, Horse?”<br />
“With the Dryl, you can count on their<br />
shamans making a big ceremonial hoo-ha first.<br />
The E-Lurians always consult their computers<br />
to make sure they have everything exact<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
down to the last nano-dot. Both races worry<br />
more about losing face than we Terrans do.<br />
Nope, we’ll always stake first claim because<br />
we don’t wait for permission from the Great<br />
Invisible, or from some inanimate hunk of<br />
bio-metal either.”<br />
Reston chuckled and added, “N’ we don’t<br />
give a half-chort for face!”<br />
Suddenly, we were in cool shadow. I<br />
flinched, expecting Lee to be there. But, when<br />
I looked up, Wolfie stood over us wiping the<br />
gravy off her chin. “Horus, Reston, mind if I<br />
join you?”<br />
Without waiting for a reply, she plunked<br />
her pretty behind on a nearby rock. “Ouch!”<br />
Her tail scorched, Wolfie was up again in an<br />
instant.<br />
“We were going to warn you about that,<br />
but you were too fast for us,” I said. “These<br />
rocks’d make this place too hot for E-Lurian<br />
comfort, and the Dryl are too superstitious<br />
to deal with two moons hanging around so<br />
close.”<br />
“I still think there’ll be a fight,” said Wolfie,<br />
crossing her arms. “Well, they’d better show<br />
up for the showdown before I get tired of the<br />
synth-grub.”<br />
Reston gave his wheezy laugh, and agreed<br />
in his own way. “They’re going to try to save<br />
face, just like they always do. Then, we’re<br />
going to wipe some more of it off when they<br />
try.” Wolfie fanned herself, mopped her brow<br />
and took a swig from her canteen. “With a<br />
whole galaxy as our genetic swimming pool,<br />
we end up on the rim of the pool with two<br />
other humanoid races! What are the odds of<br />
that? Maybe there really is a Great Invisible.”<br />
I looked around, and lowered my voice.<br />
“Don’t let Lee hear you joking about it; Solberg<br />
told me Lee’s grandma was Dryl. I think that’s<br />
how he comes by calling us pureblood Terrans<br />
‘Defectives’ like the Dryl do.”<br />
Reston held his sides and hee-hawed,<br />
“How about that—a Dryl Sergeant!”<br />
And so, Reston’s big mouth got the three<br />
of us stuck on permanent latrine duty. Why?<br />
Because the next shadow over us was Lee.
“<strong>TO</strong> <strong>THE</strong> <strong>SHORES</strong> <strong>OF</strong> <strong>TRIPLE</strong>, <strong>LEE</strong>!” by A.M. Stickel<br />
#<br />
The three of us made a great team.<br />
Between us, we worked out a way to rig our<br />
blasters in tandem so that they dug the latrines<br />
faster than our laser shovels had. We<br />
figured we might never see action, so why<br />
not make use of our weapons in a practical<br />
way.<br />
Lee was proud of our ingenuity, meaning<br />
he was not as mad at us for wasting blaster<br />
power as we’d thought he’d be. He’d watch us<br />
sweating out our shift, showing up when we<br />
least expected, solemnly saluting and asking,<br />
“How’s the Dryl-Team doing today?”<br />
“Sir, fine Sir!” We never said anything to<br />
our comrades, too ashamed to admit to our<br />
private joke. And Lee honored our silence<br />
with his.<br />
As day after day passed, under those mismatched<br />
moons, we saw no sign of our rivals<br />
in the humanoid race for territory. Sergeant<br />
Lee, though, took their absence as a purely<br />
temporary oversight. “It’s not like you’ve seen<br />
in holo practice, Troops,” he’d say. “When<br />
it happens, it really happens. War is blood,<br />
stinking guts and frying flesh. The Dryl will<br />
freeze-ray you with cold ceremony and the E-<br />
Lur will vaporize you with hot frag. After it’s<br />
over, and they’ve found face, they’ll parlay<br />
and exchange hostages. With them, the order<br />
is always: (1) shoot to kill, (2) talk it over, and<br />
(3) kiss and make up.”<br />
The day they came, latrine duty—and<br />
Lee—saved our lives. Many in the troop were<br />
caught in the open. Lee was with us. “Get into<br />
the hole, NOW!” He didn’t have to repeat the<br />
order. The E-Lur and the Dryl, while they were<br />
strafing each other, just couldn’t pass up the<br />
chance to catch us with our shields down.<br />
When the shields went up, we four found<br />
ourselves on the wrong side, and, literally, in<br />
deep doo-doo, but alive. The real fun of the<br />
fight for first rights to the world of Triple had<br />
begun.<br />
#<br />
Our refuge, fortunately, was one we’d<br />
blasted out that day and had only used ourselves.<br />
Wide enough for the larger two of<br />
us—Lee and I—to stand on the bottom, the<br />
latrine hole was deep enough for Wolfe and<br />
Reston to stand on our shoulders without<br />
head exposure. Surrounding blaster-hard-<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
ened walls helped brace us, as artillery shocks<br />
rocked our world.<br />
Trooper indoctrination had included the<br />
details of our rivals’ torture methods. Dryl<br />
grilling called for chemical drugging; the E-Lur<br />
injected captives with nanites. Then they’d<br />
simply wait.<br />
We Terrans reversed the strategy by letting<br />
the enemy waste their firepower against our<br />
impregnable shields. Said enemy tried hard<br />
not to damage property they were after so<br />
as not to alienate their taxpaying, procreating<br />
public. Since they did a lousy job of protecting<br />
the landscape for the proletariat, their<br />
governments were forced to call in Terrans<br />
to repair the damage and public sentiment.<br />
The fanatic Dryl and the ascetic E-Lur disliked<br />
cleaning up their own messes.<br />
BRAK-AK-AK-AK-AK! POW! The sky glowed<br />
crimson.<br />
After that close one, Reston was first to<br />
break our unspoken no-talk pact. “I think I’d<br />
rather be Dryl-drugged than stay down here<br />
much longer. Horse, I don’t know how you<br />
guys can stand it where you are.”<br />
Wolfe and Reston had their arms around<br />
each other with her head on his chest. And<br />
here he had the gall to complain! I waited for<br />
a pause in the blast noise before I growled at<br />
Reston, “Sarge is meditating.”<br />
“Go ahead and climb out, Reston, if you’re<br />
not anxious to celebrate your nineteenth<br />
birthday or see your buddies enjoy theirs.”<br />
Lee always did look on the bright side for his<br />
solutions. I abetted him by gripping Reston on<br />
the shin above his right boot top and squeezing<br />
hard.<br />
“Okay, okay, you guys. I’m sorry I said anything,”<br />
Reston whined.<br />
“I think I’m gonna barf,” admitted Wolfe,<br />
shifting.<br />
“You wouldn’t want to do that to us,<br />
Wolfie,” I said, reaching up and giving her leg<br />
a gentler squeeze than I had Reston’s, adding,<br />
“Reston, give her one or two of them fizzy<br />
chews you always carry.”<br />
Pretty soon I heard crunching sounds and<br />
ungraciously blamed Wolfe. With a closer<br />
look, though, I realized that the crunching<br />
was marching feet. Too soon, the feet were<br />
poised on the brink of our prison. What I saw,<br />
before a bright light blinded me, made me<br />
wonder why I’d ever left my nannies in the<br />
crèche to become a soldier. It also convinced
“<strong>TO</strong> <strong>THE</strong> <strong>SHORES</strong> <strong>OF</strong> <strong>TRIPLE</strong>, <strong>LEE</strong>!” by A.M. Stickel<br />
me how absurd the rumor was about Lee’s<br />
grandma being Dryl.<br />
While the rest of us stood gaping, wetting<br />
our pants and trying to shrink into them, Lee’s<br />
blaster was out and fired. A terrible howl and<br />
a thud told me I’d heard my first Dryl join the<br />
Great Invisible…not any too soon for me.<br />
The next thing I heard was my beloved<br />
sarge saving our lives for the third time: “Out!<br />
On the double! Head for the shield and don’t<br />
look back.”<br />
We’d almost reached Camp Alpha’s shield<br />
when Lee yelled, “Duck and roll, Troops!” I<br />
heard the shrill blast of a whistle, and recognized<br />
it as the one Lee used to single out one<br />
of us for discipline. Only, this time, there was<br />
an answering echo from the shield, which<br />
forced us to cover our ears as we rolled under<br />
the wall.<br />
Mama Hen Shield had just lifted her feathers<br />
for her chicks. We felt the electrical itch<br />
of the energy field brush across our bodies,<br />
and then heard the satisfying splat of those<br />
pursuers who had been a little too hot on our<br />
heels.<br />
Catching our collective breaths, Reston,<br />
Wolfe and I finally found enough air for questions.<br />
Lee answered us patiently, one by<br />
one, in order. The troopers not monitoring<br />
the shield, or otherwise occupied, gathered<br />
around to hear what their sergeant had to<br />
say. “Reston, the enemy troops couldn’t follow<br />
us because they have the wrong biosignatures.<br />
A signal-addressed shield only recognizes<br />
Terrans.”<br />
“No, Wolfe, our Dryl discoverer, with<br />
nothing on but boots and a freeze blaster,<br />
wasn’t the usual breed of warrior. The seethrough<br />
skin signifies the suicidal warriorpriest<br />
caste. Yeah, the sight of internal organs<br />
was yucky, but the stink when they came out<br />
was worse, wasn’t it?”<br />
“Right, Horus, they were looking to take<br />
prisoners. They keep hoping to discover<br />
enough about our technology to even up the<br />
score with the E-Lur, and then breed enough<br />
Terrans for a homegrown slave population, so<br />
they don’t have to pay for our clean-up work<br />
anymore.”<br />
Solberg’s reedy voice piped up from the<br />
rear, “Why didn’t you guys run for the shield<br />
in the first place?”<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
Lee narrowed his eyes and shook his head<br />
at the stupid question. “We had to wait until<br />
the strafing from above was over, and they<br />
had their own troops on the ground. You<br />
greenies still have a lot to learn.”<br />
I chimed in, “Would it make sense for<br />
them to risk hitting their holiest warriors with<br />
friendly fire, guys?”<br />
“What about the E-Lur, then, Horse?”<br />
Solberg retorted, smirking. I could see he<br />
thought he’d put both Lee and I on the spot.<br />
Lee winked at me and motioned for the<br />
group to follow him into the dome where<br />
the shield monitors were hard at work with<br />
their equipment. We were treated to a rare<br />
sight on the big overhead screen covering<br />
a huge section of our central dome. There<br />
sat the shiny, heavily-armored E-Lur ground<br />
troops, lounging among the rocks, watching<br />
and waiting for the Dryl to finish wearing<br />
their warriors out, before taking the offensive<br />
themselves.<br />
Besides hating the heat, E-Lurians were<br />
used to much lower gravity. Despite their best<br />
efforts, they hadn’t been able to design effective<br />
armor that protected them from both<br />
unusual heat and uncomfortable G-force.<br />
Our screen also showed the Dryl, unbothered<br />
by the heat, wasting most of their time gesticulating<br />
skyward in warding motions they<br />
thought protected them from the evil of Cue<br />
and Eight. Every now and then the sluggish<br />
E-Lur would rouse enough to vaporize a Dryl<br />
who came within range.<br />
The dome show went on. After checking<br />
the bodies of those fallen in the initial<br />
onslaught, the Dryl freeze-rayed the dead<br />
Terrans, as if disappointed about not getting<br />
to us live ones, or to the safely armored E-<br />
Lur. With a “Show’s over!” Lee called everyone<br />
to order and assigned new tasks all around,<br />
saying, “From now on, for at least awhile,<br />
your biggest enemy is going to be boredom<br />
unless you keep busy.” #<br />
The Dryl and E-Lur had moved their fight<br />
to Terran Camp Beta, a short distance from<br />
us on open, sandy ground. Having learned<br />
our lesson, Alpha kept her guard up while our<br />
shield techs worked on shifting the field to<br />
cover the new latrine we’d dug. It also gave<br />
them a chance to vent the area under the<br />
shield, preventing toxic buildup.
“<strong>TO</strong> <strong>THE</strong> <strong>SHORES</strong> <strong>OF</strong> <strong>TRIPLE</strong>, <strong>LEE</strong>!” by A.M. Stickel<br />
“Horus, I want you and Reston to help<br />
the botanist expand our camp’s greenhouse.<br />
That way we won’t have to shift the shield so<br />
often. The well we’re over seems like it can<br />
support some pretty decent hydroponics.”<br />
“Sir, yes Sir!” I saluted and went to work<br />
immediately. I knew Wolfe had been reassigned<br />
to the nanite-detection squad, and<br />
trusted in her ability to prove that our area<br />
remained relatively uncontaminated.<br />
Arriving at the greenhouse dome, I encountered<br />
Reston, who took me aside. “Camp<br />
Beta’s in trouble. They got careless, and some<br />
mean nanites crept into their fresh food<br />
supply; they had to vaporize the greenhouse,<br />
slag some latrines, and go back on synth-grub.<br />
Still, a whole bunch of them had to be lightgated<br />
to emergency quarantine facilities.”<br />
“Looks like one or more of us will be<br />
making some fresh-food runs to Beta. Who<br />
do you think Sarge will pick, Reston?”<br />
Reston shifted uneasily, “You don’t hear<br />
me volunteering, especially after I peed in<br />
my pants out there under the boots of a seethrough<br />
warrior.”<br />
I put my hand on his shoulder. “We all did,<br />
good buddy. Let’s put our bad scene behind<br />
us, and tackle the hydroponics maze, okay?”<br />
We set to work, both of us quiet and preoccupied.<br />
I hoped the E-Lur would realize<br />
that contaminating Triple for us Terrans and<br />
their Dryl rivals meant they were only making<br />
more messes for their colonists—if they<br />
won—which the colonists would probably pay<br />
us to clean up, as usual. I wasn’t as worried<br />
about the present hexes and future taboos<br />
the Dryl would inflict. They only affected the<br />
Dryl faithful, not infidels like us.<br />
The hydroponics worked almost too well,<br />
and we produced a bumper crop. Lee decided<br />
to let two of us pair off. Only eight were committed<br />
enough. I wanted to continue missions<br />
out in the galaxy, as did most of the troops.<br />
Four couples put their names in the helmet,<br />
two to a card. Wolfe and Reston won. The<br />
next drawing was for two fresh-food runners.<br />
Lee and I won that one.<br />
Although everyone else was surprised<br />
Lee’d put his name in, I wasn’t. I was also relieved<br />
not to be making the run with a chort<br />
like Solberg.<br />
Thanks to the nearby moons, night on<br />
Triple was almost as bright as day, but Lee<br />
and I did have good camo, and shared a min-<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
iature stealth generator. Although not impervious<br />
like a shield, the generator’s field would<br />
dampen our heat signature, scent and noise.<br />
The night of Reston’s and Wolfe’s pair<br />
commitment ceremony, Lee and I set out for<br />
Beta Camp leading an anti-grav sledge loaded<br />
with delectable garden goodies. Instead of a<br />
honeymoon, the newlyweds were posted at<br />
the shield-interrupt site to guard our exit.<br />
All was going according to plan as we left<br />
with our cheeks burning from Wolfie’s kisses.<br />
I manhandled the sledge down-slope onto<br />
the sand. Lee kept an eye on both the multiviewer<br />
and the nanite-detector. When he<br />
said, “Hot spot: veer!” and pointed, I jumped<br />
to it. I didn’t want to end up in quarantine.<br />
There’s an old Terran war rhyme about<br />
a soldier returning home to his sweetheart,<br />
ending with: “Lips that touched nanites will<br />
never touch mine.” I didn’t want to find out<br />
the full implications of the old verse, but suspected<br />
it had a lot to do with almost all Space<br />
Corps offspring being brought up in crèches.<br />
Corps couples rarely lived long enough to reproduce,<br />
let alone spend any time with their<br />
kids. I hoped Reston and Wolfe could beat<br />
the odds.<br />
We were relieved to find everything<br />
calm outside Beta’s shield. They knew we<br />
were coming, but neither the E-Lur nor the<br />
Dryl did. A low dune hid the Dryl transport,<br />
although the call to prayer was being broadcast<br />
loudly from it. The faithful wanted to find<br />
favor with the Great Invisible. Between the E-<br />
Lur encampment and Camp Beta, a sacrifice<br />
had been staked out to appease the moon<br />
demons. E-Lur braves, not busy recharging<br />
their armor like the rest, were having fun<br />
turning the sand around the Dryl female to<br />
glass. Some were making obscene gestures.<br />
(We had learned about those before being<br />
light-gated.) From the sound of her, she<br />
wasn’t going to go down easy.<br />
“She’s screaming, ‘Curse you, unbelievers!’<br />
and other things not meant to be translated<br />
for tender ears like yours,” said Lee. I could<br />
see Lee twiddle the control on the viewer<br />
and heard him grunt in dismay. “We’ve got a<br />
problem.”<br />
“Sir, I already know you have to whistle us<br />
under Mama Shield Beta.”<br />
“We’ve got more than one mama here,<br />
Trooper.”
“<strong>TO</strong> <strong>THE</strong> <strong>SHORES</strong> <strong>OF</strong> <strong>TRIPLE</strong>, <strong>LEE</strong>!” by A.M. Stickel<br />
“Let me have a look.” Sure enough, the<br />
viewer was focused on the naked sacrifice’s<br />
glassy belly, and it showed movement of a<br />
tiny body within.<br />
“That’s barbaric. Why would they sacrifice<br />
her?” I gasped.<br />
“We’ll find out after we rescue her.”<br />
“Just how are we supposed to accomplish<br />
such a rescue?”<br />
“Greenie, leave that to me.” Then he blew<br />
the whistle. When the shield went up high<br />
enough, we dumped everything out of the<br />
sledge, and he called to the surprised faces<br />
within, “Sorry we can’t stay to chat. Enjoy the<br />
chow. We gotta run along now.” The shield<br />
slammed down.<br />
The next thing I knew we were in the center<br />
of the makeshift sacrificial grounds ready to<br />
load up the struggling Dryl lovely and thereby<br />
convince unbelievers of her Great Invisible’s<br />
omnipotence.<br />
Lee proved remarkably fluent in Drylspeak,<br />
and finally succeeded in calming down<br />
the would-be sacrifice. Finally realizing we<br />
wouldn’t turn her over to the nonexistent<br />
mercy of her own kind, she agreed to come<br />
along peacefully, sworn on both her honor<br />
and by her Divine Protector to behave.<br />
Arriving back at Camp Alpha, Lee whistled<br />
up the wall and went in alone, leaving me<br />
with the transparent lady. I tried not to stare,<br />
but she eyed me boldly as if she could see<br />
my insides. Shame for the prejudices most<br />
recently acquired from my time in the hole<br />
made me blush. Compared to me, she was<br />
brave, even if for the wrong reason.<br />
Finally, Mama Alpha blanked her shields<br />
for our prisoner long enough for me to hustle<br />
her inside. She seemed to enjoy riding on<br />
the sledge. We brought out a translation unit<br />
so that the Dryl-speak could be turned into<br />
Terran for the curious troops. She answered<br />
our questions as patiently as had Lee.<br />
“You’ve asked who I am. I was a warrior<br />
princess of the Dryl until I was given to an<br />
E-Lur prince as an experiment in peacemaking.<br />
No, our names are not important. More<br />
important is that, despite our differences, we<br />
found love. The child I carry is our child. Dryl<br />
science made him possible. Most E-Lurians,<br />
however, still refuse to be one with the Dryl.<br />
Those Dryl who feel the same killed my child’s<br />
father. I heard the call of the Great Invisible<br />
to join my prince. Even though this night<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
I escaped, I have lost the will to live. If you<br />
choose to save my child by providing a host<br />
mother, then you might yet accomplish what<br />
his father and I have failed to do. Have you a<br />
candidate?”<br />
Wolfie came forward and put her hand on<br />
the princess’s shoulder. She didn’t need to say<br />
anything. They just looked at each other and<br />
nodded. Reston followed his bride, for once<br />
not twitching nervously, but standing tall<br />
and proud. Lee motioned to one of several<br />
anxious medics.<br />
“Medic, prepare three for light gating,”<br />
ordered Lee.<br />
“Sir, yes Sir.” said the medic, helping the<br />
Dryl princess from the sledge.<br />
She gazed at us, one by one, as she was led<br />
away, saving me for last. I felt a ripple of understanding<br />
sweep through me that needed<br />
no translation.<br />
Later, when I asked Lee about his familiarity<br />
with the Dryl language, he winked and<br />
answered, “Why not ask my grandma some<br />
day?”<br />
I stood at attention and saluted him,<br />
singing the song he most loved to hear, “Sir,<br />
yes Sir!”<br />
And that, Your Majesty, is how you came<br />
to be raised in the crèche like me, and why<br />
I was chosen to take you to visit your other<br />
two home worlds, since now you’re of age.<br />
Seems like only yesterday I was eighteen,<br />
myself. Inside I still feel eighteen. I think High<br />
Commander Lee does too.<br />
A.M. Stickel<br />
This ~3550-word story was previously<br />
published in DEEP MAGIC in 2 parts (in Sept.<br />
& Oct. of 2005) as a winner of their cover<br />
art writing challenge contest. Among other<br />
publishing ventures, Anne is the managing<br />
copyeditor for RAY GUN REVIVAL, Assistant<br />
Editor (and contributing artist and author) of<br />
BLACK PETALS, and a nonfiction contributor to<br />
SURREAL.
Deuces Wild<br />
Reluctant Allies: Part Two by L. S. King<br />
When we left our heroes, they had blown up a factory<br />
along with the Lyssel, the leader of the local mob,<br />
the Mordas. Now they are making their escape in a<br />
vehicle ‘borrowed’ from the dead gangster.<br />
Tristan banked the rover, and Slap could<br />
see the spaceport’s lights glowing against<br />
the night sky. They neared the entrance to the<br />
private pads on the south side. Slap blinked<br />
and wiped his face on his sleeve again. “Are<br />
you really going to steal Lyssel’s yacht?”<br />
“Of course.”<br />
“I don’t know how I feel about stealing…”<br />
Tristan glanced back for a moment. “It’s<br />
not stealing to steal from a thief—especially<br />
a dead one.”<br />
That seemed to make sense. Slap remained<br />
quiet, fingering the knife Tristan had returned<br />
to him. As the vehicle approached the pad, he<br />
asked, “What are you going to do?”<br />
Tristan landed the rover without even a<br />
bump. “Just play along.”<br />
“How can I, if I don’t know what you’re<br />
doing?”<br />
The dark man closed his eyes for a second,<br />
then glared at Slap. “You’re my bodyguard, all<br />
right? So just act the part and be a ‘yes man.’<br />
You can do that, can’t you?”<br />
“Yes.” Slap grinned and sheathed the knife.<br />
Tristan jumped out of the rover, hailing<br />
the guards, who brought their weapons up.<br />
Slap clambered out and came up behind him,<br />
hoping he looked tough.<br />
“Lyssel asked me to check on the ship.”<br />
Tristan nodded toward the vessel.<br />
“He didn’t say anything to us,” one guard<br />
said. “And we don’t know you.”<br />
“Would I be using his rover if he didn’t send<br />
me?” Tristan flashed a grin—a friendly, charismatic<br />
grin—and Slap found himself almost<br />
believing him. Brago’s Bands, who was this<br />
guy, anyway?<br />
“He’s hired me to take care of some of his<br />
off-world business. He’ll be along in a bit. He<br />
had a foul-up at the old Tellum factory, so told<br />
me to come ahead and check the ship.”<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
The guard shook his head. “He can check<br />
all he wants, but nothing’s changed. The parts<br />
haven’t come in yet so the engineer hasn’t<br />
been able to finish repairs. It’ll be a week.”<br />
The guard gave them a hard look. “Why would<br />
the boss send you when he already knows all<br />
this?”<br />
Tristan scratched his head and smoothed<br />
down his hair, looking confused. “Why, I don’t<br />
know. Does he have more than one ship?”<br />
“Only the cargo ship.”<br />
Tristan snapped his fingers with a grin. “Ah,<br />
that’s it. Makes more sense, too. Don’t know<br />
why I—well, I guess it was because he said<br />
the rover had the coordinates, and I just…” He<br />
shrugged, his grin widening. “Guess I should<br />
have asked for clarification.” With a wink he<br />
added in a stage whisper, “You won’t tell on<br />
me, will you?”<br />
The guards snickered. The one who had<br />
been talking lifted his rifle a bit with a nod.<br />
“The freighter is on the northeast end, at the<br />
cargo docks.”<br />
Tristan gave a jaunty salute and hopped<br />
back in the rover. Slap climbed in behind<br />
him, unable to believe his companion could<br />
so smoothly ease in and out of what should<br />
have been trouble.<br />
A voice cracked over the guards’ comm<br />
system and in the rover as well. “Rory, Gale—<br />
everyone! Lyssel is dead! We found him at<br />
the factory, and the rover is missing. Be on<br />
the lookout—”<br />
The guards shouted, and Tristan muttered<br />
in a foreign language, jamming the throttle<br />
forward. Slap grabbed the seat as the rover<br />
rose, screaming. Pings hit the underside and<br />
rocked it as they flew off.<br />
Slap whistled through his teeth. “That was<br />
close!”<br />
“I can’t believe they found Lyssel so quickly.”<br />
He grumbled quietly—most likely cursing in<br />
his native language. “We need a place to hide<br />
and regroup.”<br />
Slap chewed his nail for a second. The Zendians<br />
wouldn’t be happy at his bringing an<br />
outsider, but Tristan had saved his life and,
Deuces Wild by L. S. King<br />
according to their ways, that made him a<br />
brother. “I know a place.”<br />
“Where?”<br />
“The Zendi Mountains.”<br />
Tristan twisted to look full at him. “Aren’t<br />
the Zendi one of the native races on this<br />
planet?”<br />
“Yeah, they only live in that one mountain<br />
range.”<br />
“I’ve heard they can be unpleasant and<br />
don’t like dealing with humans.”<br />
“Not usually. But they’ll let us stay there.”<br />
Slap met Tristan’s gaze and saw the distrust,<br />
then added, “For a little while anyway.”<br />
“Which direction?”<br />
“Only way is to walk. You can’t bring any<br />
vehicles or equipment near the Zendians.”<br />
“Walk? How far is it? We don’t have any<br />
supplies.”<br />
“Couple a days.” Slap patted his pack. “Everything<br />
we need is in here, or I can get more<br />
as we go along.”<br />
“You’re telling me anything we need to get<br />
safely to the aliens’ mountains you have in<br />
that pack?”<br />
“Yep.”<br />
“Forget it. It’s crazy.”<br />
“Look, I know the land—”<br />
“And I don’t.” Tristan veered the craft and<br />
flew it lower. “Hold on. We have to ditch the<br />
rover. I don’t know if they can track it or override<br />
the controls.”<br />
Tristan set the vehicle down at the back of<br />
a warehouse in an industrial area at the edge<br />
of the city. Smart move. No one would be here<br />
this time of night—or rather, early morning.<br />
Dawn couldn’t be more than an hour or two<br />
off.<br />
They hopped out, and Tristan whispered,<br />
“Follow me.”<br />
“Where’re we going?”<br />
“Away from this area. Just in case.”<br />
Slap followed him in the dark, almost<br />
bumping into him, and once stepping on his<br />
heel as they wound around buildings and<br />
through alleys, sometimes backtracking. After<br />
Tristan hissed at him for stumbling into him<br />
for the umpteenth time, Slap grumbled back,<br />
“Maybe you got eyes that can see in the dark<br />
like a cat, but I don’t!”<br />
“Then put a hand on my back, and by Orion’s<br />
belt, try to be more quiet!”<br />
Slap sighed as they continued on, heading<br />
who knew where.<br />
Pg. 0<br />
#<br />
Tristan didn’t want to worry his companion,<br />
but twice they had nearly fallen into confrontation.<br />
Lyssel’s men seemed everywhere. Where<br />
could they hide? He couldn’t see going into<br />
the mountains, especially on foot. Too easy to<br />
track and find while on the way. That—if he<br />
trusted his companion. He supposed he did,<br />
to the limited extent he ever trusted anyone,<br />
but walking across unknown terrain to find<br />
some strange aliens? With no supplies?<br />
However, Tristan was running out of options.<br />
They would be recognized by the Mordas anywhere<br />
they went. The answer struck him like a<br />
shock prod. He stopped short, and the cowboy<br />
knocked into him again, nearly sending him<br />
sprawling. He steadied himself with a hand<br />
against the side of a building, flaring his nostrils<br />
in irritation.<br />
“What’s the matter?” Slap asked.<br />
“Quiet for a moment, while I think.”<br />
“Oh great,” his tall burden muttered.<br />
Tristan didn’t deign to reply. He stared into<br />
the dark, trying to recall gossip and where he<br />
had heard it. What was the woman’s name?<br />
Betts? Could she be trusted? Her story recalled<br />
another one, from long ago. That woman had<br />
been trustworthy. Tough call, but his choices<br />
were limited. He glanced over his shoulder.<br />
“Let’s go. I think I know how to keep us safe<br />
and get us off-planet.”<br />
“Good, cuz I’m tired of wandering around<br />
and wondering if you’ve got us lost.”<br />
#<br />
Slap grunted as consciousness seeped<br />
through his exhausted body and he fought<br />
to stay in the blissful, dreamy cloud. A sharp<br />
smack on his backside made him roll over.<br />
“Hey!” He sat up, blinking and scowling at<br />
Tristan.<br />
The woman, Betts, stood by the door;<br />
he clutched the silk sheets up to his waist.<br />
“Don’tcha know how to knock?”<br />
Tristan tossed garments on the bed. “Get<br />
up. Here’s your clothes. We’re going to slip out<br />
of here after dark, disguised as a young scion<br />
and his servant. We’ll take a sedan to the port,<br />
and once inside, we can commandeer one of<br />
the idle rich’s yachts.”<br />
“You gotta be kidding!” Slap looked at the<br />
gold embroidery on the deep blue vest, and<br />
the jabot that would ruffle down the front. But<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03
Deuces Wild by L. S. King<br />
it was the tights that made him shudder. The<br />
handsome woman walked up to stand next to<br />
Tristan and grinned. This had to be a joke!<br />
Betts, with too much make-up and not<br />
enough clothing by Slap’s standards, had cautiously<br />
taken them in. By the time they had<br />
eaten, news had hit the street that Lyssel was<br />
dead and she readily agreed to help them.<br />
The vicious gleam in her eyes at the mobster’s<br />
name Slap could understand. He didn’t know<br />
what had been done to her, but Lyssel had<br />
been greedy and heartless.<br />
Slap scratched his curly hair with a scowl,<br />
one eye on those tights. The nap hadn’t been<br />
enough, plus he was hungry again. Both<br />
tended to make him grumpy.<br />
“Can you do it, Betts?” Tristan asked.<br />
She crossed her arms across her ample bust<br />
with a wry frown. “I’m no Henry Higgins.”<br />
“He isn’t Eliza Doolittle, either.”<br />
The woman sniffed and brushed a wisp of<br />
blonde hair off her brow, then wrinkled her<br />
nose. “First step is a bath.” She pointed to the<br />
tub in the corner of the bedroom.<br />
Slap narrowed his eyes. “Now wait a<br />
minute—”<br />
“If you can promise to wash thoroughly, I<br />
won’t stay and scrub you. Although you might<br />
enjoy it.”<br />
Betts’ voice was both humorous and condescending.<br />
Slap couldn’t decide if she was<br />
serious. But his face flushed hot. “I certainly<br />
ain’t getting in a tub with you in the room,<br />
ma’am.”<br />
The corner of her mouth twitched, and<br />
she turned to Tristan. “I’ll be back in awhile.<br />
Have fun.”<br />
When the door shut, Slap crossed his<br />
arms. “You ain’t serious about this plan, are<br />
you? And how do you know we can trust her?<br />
I mean, I know she hated Lyssel but that don’t<br />
mean she’s not going to turn us over to the<br />
Mordas.”<br />
“‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ I<br />
think I can trust her—just as I think I can trust<br />
you.”<br />
“Think you can trust me? Thanks a lot,<br />
pal.”<br />
“How much trust should I give to a person<br />
I’ve known for one day? We have a common<br />
goal, but what more when this is over?”<br />
Slap shrugged, conceding the point.<br />
Tristan nodded to the tub. “Get in.”<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
“Now wait. I ain’t said I’d go along with this<br />
crazy scheme.”<br />
“Do you have a better idea?”<br />
“Well no, but I won’t be party to stealing a<br />
ship. I don’t care if it is some rich dandy who<br />
can afford the loss.”<br />
Tristan muttered in that foreign language<br />
again. “Then we won’t steal a ship.” He<br />
paused and shrugged. “Not exactly anyway.<br />
Now wash. And use the scented soap.”<br />
#<br />
Slap stood, glowering, curly hair slicked<br />
down, as Betts adjusted the jabot.<br />
Tristan straightened his own new clothes.<br />
Or lack thereof. Slaves of the high class wore<br />
only a loinwrap, sandals, and armbands, plus<br />
their House tattoo. Betts had stained his skin<br />
dark to pass as sun-bronzed and provided an<br />
ink that would last through water and sweat<br />
for the tattoo.<br />
“Now,” Betts said, brushing lint from the<br />
tall cowboy’s embroidered vest. “Who are<br />
you?”<br />
They had been reviewing this all afternoon.<br />
Slap sighed loudly and intoned, “I’m a visiting<br />
nephew of Amilie, late wife of old Lord<br />
Barthew’s second son, Philip.”<br />
“You must remember to use a clear, strong<br />
voice when you speak.”<br />
Slap scowled, pulling at his neckline. “Yeah,<br />
yeah.”<br />
Betts snatched at the jabot. “Stop it—I<br />
had it straight. And don’t say ‘yeah.’ Say, ‘yes.’<br />
And if you can sneer as you talk, that’s even<br />
better.”<br />
Betts stepped back, finger to her chin as<br />
she looked him over. “Tip your head up and<br />
look down your nose. Be condescending.”<br />
Slap did as ordered, his frown turning supercilious.<br />
Betts grinned. “Perfect! And you<br />
do look cute in tights.”<br />
Slap’s face turned bright red.<br />
Betts chortled. “Now, if you can remember<br />
to enunciate and use proper language instead<br />
of slang, you’ll be fine. And if you do run into<br />
anyone unexpected, you have never visited<br />
Zenos before, so don’t know all the customs<br />
here. That will buy you leeway. Cash should<br />
take care of the rest.”<br />
“That’s no problem,” Tristan said. “Speaking<br />
of which, are you certain I can’t pay you?”<br />
Betts’ face hardened. “We discussed this<br />
already. You took out Lyssel. I know someone<br />
else will take his place; that’s the way of things.
Deuces Wild by L. S. King<br />
But my way is clear now.” She stuck out her<br />
hand. “I’m glad to have done business with<br />
someone after my own heart.”<br />
“I have no heart.”<br />
“Precisely.”<br />
Tristan had no doubt she spoke the truth.<br />
He shook her hand, his eyes meeting hers.<br />
She smiled. “I hope we meet again<br />
someday.”<br />
Tristan didn’t. For now they were allies, but<br />
he wouldn’t bet on which side of the sheet<br />
this woman’s loyalties lay from day to day.<br />
#<br />
One did not expect to see the high classes<br />
on this side of the city, but Betts’ establishment<br />
was one of the few exceptions. Tristan<br />
wondered at the delicate balance between<br />
the rich and the Mordas that held Betts<br />
captive by Lyssel on one hand, yet relatively<br />
safe from his reprisals on the other.<br />
In any event, the sedan driver saw nothing<br />
amiss that a young, rich scion would exit such<br />
a place late in the evening. Betts stepped up<br />
to the driver and pressed a gold piece into<br />
his hand. “Milord wishes to be driven to the<br />
private yacht gate.”<br />
Not the best solution, but it got Tristan and<br />
Slap to the space port itself, if not inside or<br />
near the shipyard. Betts leaned into the back,<br />
her endowments displayed to full advantage.<br />
In a stage whisper sure to be overheard by<br />
the driver, she said, “Come back next time<br />
you’re on-planet, milord, and I’ll show you<br />
some exotic ways used by the Saurans.”<br />
The young man slouched, blushing, and<br />
Tristan, kneeling on the floor by his feet,<br />
clouted his ankle. Slap straightened, cleared<br />
his throat and replied, “I’ll…I’ll do that.”<br />
Betts grinned and winked, then nodded to<br />
the driver. She backed away, and the sedan<br />
rose slowly. The city fled under them and<br />
the spaceport lights glowed ahead, illuminating<br />
the sky. They neared the private gate,<br />
and Slap leaned back with an audible exhale.<br />
Tristan looked up, frowning, and gave a slight<br />
shake of his head. He never relaxed until he<br />
knew it was safe.<br />
“Which yacht, milord?” the driver asked as<br />
they approached the gate. “I need clearance<br />
to fly to it, or else I’ll have to land you at the<br />
gate.”<br />
“Land at the gate. My uncle expects me to<br />
be waiting for him.”<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
Tristan winced. Arrogant, rich, young men<br />
did not offer explanations. But the driver<br />
merely nodded an affirmative.<br />
The sedan landed within the lights flooding<br />
the entrance to the private pads.<br />
Tristan jumped out, unfolding the step and<br />
bowing, eyes darting about, keeping alert.<br />
But the driver didn’t move, and the guards<br />
at the gate stayed at their posts. All seemed<br />
normal.<br />
Slap descended with a mincing step, head<br />
high, looking around as if the place reeked.<br />
Good. Tristan grabbed the bags and followed<br />
his ‘master.’ The sedan flew off.<br />
Slap approached the gate with a prim strut,<br />
stopped, and put his hands on his hips. “Open<br />
up.” The guards exchanged glances.<br />
“We haven’t authorization, young sir,” said<br />
one.<br />
“Insolent lizard! If you don’t know who I am,<br />
you should at least know how to use ‘milord.’<br />
I demand to know your names! I will see that<br />
Lord Barthew learns about your disrespect!”<br />
Tristan kept his face impassive but could<br />
not believe this ignorant cowboy was pulling<br />
it off! The guards stammered as Slap railed,<br />
shifting weight hip to hip as the fops often<br />
did. Finally he slowed his barrage and took<br />
out a handkerchief. He patted his face then<br />
fanned himself, huffing all the while. Tristan<br />
rarely had the urge to laugh out loud, but, in<br />
this case, he had to restrain himself.<br />
“We meant no offense, milord. Please!<br />
Enter!” The one guard keyed the switch and<br />
the gate swung open. “Lord Barthew’s yacht<br />
is on the northeast side—”<br />
“Now, wait, Joe!” The second guard threw<br />
out his arm. “We can’t just let him go in<br />
without authorization. I don’t care who he<br />
is.” “But Lord Barthew—”<br />
“Call him. The union will back us up even<br />
against someone with his influence.”<br />
“I have authorization.” Slap reached into<br />
the fancy vest and pulled out a pouch. He<br />
tossed it to the second guard.<br />
The man stared at it for a moment, but<br />
tossed it down. “A bribe!” He brought up his<br />
gun, but the tall local lived up to his name: he<br />
slapped the weapon out of the guard’s hands<br />
with a growl. He picked him up by throat and<br />
crotch and tossed him across the yard. The<br />
man hit hard, rolled, and lay still.
Deuces Wild by L. S. King<br />
The first guard, Joe, stared with round<br />
eyes. With a blink, he lifted his sidearm, but<br />
Slap wrenched it out of his hands and threw<br />
it away.<br />
Tristan didn’t wait to see Joe’s fate. He<br />
grabbed both weapons. A pitiful cry made<br />
him look up. Joe lay against the guardhouse,<br />
whimpering. From the angle, his leg looked<br />
broken.<br />
That galoot was a one-man army!<br />
Slap snatched up the pouch and tossed it<br />
at Joe. “For your trouble.”<br />
Tristan lobbed one of the guns at Slap,<br />
leading the way as they ran into the dark.<br />
They had to avoid illuminated areas while they<br />
headed toward their destination. Sirens soon<br />
blared, and lights flooded the port, leaving<br />
few shadows to hide in.<br />
“Now what?” Slap asked, ripping off the<br />
jabot as they hid on the dark side of a building.<br />
He wiped his face with the ruffled material,<br />
then dropped it.<br />
Tristan eyed it for a moment. “We have<br />
to get rid of these clothes.” He peered in a<br />
window and saw lockers. Was his luck actually<br />
changing? About time. He couldn’t wait<br />
to be quit of this planet!<br />
“Glad to do it. But if we put on our regular<br />
clothes are we safe?”<br />
“I wouldn’t count on it. Wait one minute.”<br />
#<br />
As Tristan melted into the dark, Slap<br />
stripped off the dandy clothes—those tights<br />
had to go! He scratched his legs and tender<br />
areas, wondering how the rich wore that<br />
stuff. His buddy returned a minute later and<br />
shoved clothes into his hands.<br />
“What’s this?”<br />
“We’re maintenance workers now. Hurry<br />
up.”<br />
“Brago’s Bands! You never are short of<br />
ideas, are you?”<br />
“Just get dressed.”<br />
Slap sighed and pulled on the overalls. They<br />
gathered at the waist, and had a vest-style<br />
top with open sides, a plus in this climate.<br />
Tristan opened the bags and gave Slap his<br />
pack. Slap tucked the one guard’s gun inside<br />
the waistband of the overalls with the fleeting<br />
thought that he was glad it had a safety.<br />
Especially considering where the muzzle was<br />
pointed.<br />
His partner shed his slave get-up and<br />
quickly donned his new guise. He tossed his<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
black vest over one shoulder and arm, hiding<br />
the tattoo and the gun. He carried his bag on<br />
his other arm. With a jerk of his head, he indicated<br />
they should start walking again.<br />
Two maintenance workers shouldn’t be<br />
noticed. Slap hoped anyway. They walked<br />
through the gate to the shipyards without<br />
anyone batting an eye. Tristan even waved to<br />
merchantmen loading cargo.<br />
“Which ship is it?” Slap asked, glancing at<br />
the dock-pad numbers. “Betts did get that<br />
info, right?”<br />
“Yes. It’s just ahead now.”<br />
Two men stood in front of the ship. It was<br />
small, a private cargo vessel rather than the<br />
typical huge freighter Slap had imagined.<br />
An older model, too—perhaps Canary class,<br />
probably one hundred years old, refitted at<br />
least once. It didn’t look very space-worthy.<br />
They walked toward the ship, Slap waiting<br />
for Tristan’s nod. Just outside the circle of light<br />
from the dock pad, they pulled the guns and<br />
fired. Slap couldn’t feel sorry about two more<br />
dead Mordas.<br />
They ran up the ramp to the door and listened<br />
for a moment. Tristan nodded, then<br />
ducked inside. Was he taking a chance or<br />
could he hear well enough to know no one<br />
lurked nearby? Not waiting, Slap entered and<br />
closed the hatch behind him. As a precaution,<br />
he closed the inner lock too. Tristan had<br />
found an access console nearby.<br />
“I’ve locked out the cargo hatches,” Tristan<br />
hissed over his shoulder. “No one can enter<br />
from outside now. Make your way aft on this<br />
deck, then around and fore to the bridge.<br />
Check all the rooms, the crews’ quarters,<br />
galley, heads, everything. And don’t get skittish<br />
and shoot before looking. It might be<br />
me.” Slap rolled his eyes. He turned and headed<br />
to the back of the ship, his heart pounding<br />
as he expected to find a Mordas henchman<br />
at every turn or inside each room. He sighed<br />
with relief when he finally got to the bridge.<br />
Tristan lounged in one of the chairs, now<br />
wearing his black pants and vest. “Glad you<br />
finally arrived.”<br />
“I’ve been searching the ship, and you’ve<br />
been sitting here?”<br />
“I checked the lower deck—cargo bays,<br />
engine room—ending up here. There’s still<br />
a chance that someone is hiding aboard,<br />
but we’re safe in here for the moment. I can
Deuces Wild by L. S. King<br />
change the registry after we lift off—Lyssel<br />
loaded a program that allows it. Makes sense<br />
in his line of work. Anyway, it frees us to go.<br />
Hook your pack and strap in.”<br />
Slap secured his pack, and the gun, then<br />
sat in the chair indicated, pulling the straps<br />
tight.<br />
Tristan called for clearance, and when the<br />
tower questioned him, he reminded them<br />
whose ship it was, and that although Lyssel<br />
was dead, his business wasn’t.<br />
After a pause, the reply came. “Cleared for<br />
departure.”<br />
Slap swallowed, gripping the arm rests as<br />
the ship lifted off. He couldn’t decide what<br />
bothered him more—leaving the only planet<br />
he had known, despite the sorrows it contained,<br />
or the unknown in front of him.<br />
Tristan looked over at him, a glint of amusement<br />
in his eyes. “You know, you looked quite<br />
natural mincing about in those tights.”<br />
Slap scowled. “They were binding.”<br />
From the final part of “Reluctant Allies”<br />
coming in Issue 05:<br />
“Occupants of the freighter Manta, this<br />
is spaceport security. You have pirated that<br />
ship. Return to the spaceport. This is your<br />
only warning.”<br />
Slap gripped the armrests even tighter,<br />
his eyes widening. “Brago’s Bands! What<br />
now? Freighters don’t have weaponry.”<br />
A red light on the panel drew Slap’s<br />
attention. “Incoming!” The ship rocked and<br />
shuddered, flinging him sideways. He grabbed<br />
the sides of the chair.<br />
Stay tuned as Deuces Wild continues next<br />
month!<br />
To catch up on previous episodes of the adventures of<br />
Slap and Tristan, visit:<br />
http://loriendil.com/DW.htm<br />
L. S. King<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
p24<br />
A science fiction fan since childhood — reading Heinlein,<br />
Asimov, Clarke, Dick, Bradley, Pohl, Vonnegut,<br />
Anthony and many others – L.S. King has been writing<br />
stories since her youth. Now, with all but one of her<br />
children grown, she is writing full-time. For the last<br />
four years, she has worked on developing a swordand-planet<br />
series tentatively called The Ancients. The<br />
first book is finished, and she has completed a rough<br />
draft of several more novels as well.<br />
She serves on the editorial staff of The Sword Review,<br />
is also their Columns Editor, and writes a column for<br />
that magazine entitled “Writer’s Cramps” as well. She<br />
is also one of the Overlords, a founder and managing<br />
editor, here at <strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong>.<br />
She began martial arts training over thirty years ago,<br />
and owned a karate school for a decade. A mother<br />
and grandmother who lives in Delaware with her<br />
husband, Steve, and their youngest child, she also<br />
enjoys gardening, soap making, and reading. She has<br />
homeschooled her children for over fifteen years, and<br />
maintains two homeschooling websites. She also likes<br />
Looney Tunes, the color purple, and is a Zorro aficionado,<br />
which might explain her love of swords and<br />
cloaks.
Featured Artist<br />
Michel Merza, aka DKF<br />
Name: Michel Merza<br />
Age: 25<br />
Hobbies: Fishing, darts, computers, making photos.<br />
Favorite Artist: Albert Bierstadt<br />
When did you start creating art: Basically, I started making art when I was very young. I loved to draw and always tried to<br />
redraw any nice picture I’d see. Drawing has always been my favourite thing in school, any school.<br />
What media do you work in: I use Photoshop for the biggest part of my work. It is a fantastic program that lets you do basically<br />
anything you can think off. I also used a little 3ds Max in some of my work. It can give you some very nice pictures but it is pretty hard to<br />
handle.<br />
Where your work has been featured: Mostly<br />
on deviantART. I started off on customize.org with some<br />
abstract work, but I soon got bored with the community<br />
there. Just didn’t like the way one admin said ‘your work isn’t<br />
that good,’ and everyone else just agreed, and the other way<br />
around as well. It didn’t get me anywhere, but deviantART is<br />
totally different. The users say exactly what they think, and<br />
although it was hard to get noticed in the beginning, I soon<br />
improved my work and got more involved. It is just one big<br />
living community with countless users and groups to join and<br />
learn from.<br />
Where should someone go if they wanted<br />
to view / buy some of your works: deviantART<br />
would be the place to go. I once had a site of my own but I<br />
just didn’t have the time to keep it updated all the time.<br />
deviantART is a very good site and a great system to keep a user page and gallery. I encourage everyone that has some art or wants to improve<br />
his/her art to go there. Check my art on the following link: http://dkf.deviantart.com<br />
How did you become an artist: I don’t know; when does one become an artist? Being an artist can be defined in so many ways.<br />
I think it started when I started drawing everything I liked to see. You try to improve drawing after drawing and you try to see every small<br />
detail. You have to have an eye for detail in my opinion. That is one of the things that makes you an artist, at least in the part of art that I am in.<br />
Composition is a big issue as well. If you have everything right but it doesn’t flow, it makes a piece unattractive to look at. You need an eye for<br />
that as well. Those are some things that can make you an artist, and the sooner you start developing those skills the better you get. And then<br />
there is imagination—very important as well. So how did I become an artist? I don’t know, maybe it is in you and maybe you learn it in your<br />
childhood. It’s just going beyond your dreams, trying to create something that visualises your imagination. When you start doing that, you<br />
become an artist.<br />
What were your early influences: My dad, for one. He liked to draw and he helped me a lot with composition, showing me what<br />
to look for. We were encouraged to draw a lot in school as well. We did all our class work from Monday through Wednesday, and then had two<br />
full days to draw, always trying to draw something more beautiful than the kid next to you. A little competition encourages you to develop<br />
your skills. That is about all that influenced me till I was about 13 or so, when a drawing teacher from another school influenced me even more.<br />
What were your current influences: Everything that happens around me. Your emotional status affects your art a lot. But also<br />
other people’s art and pictures. Pictures form the Hubble telescope are just amazing to look at, and they give you so much inspiration. Also, the<br />
things people say about your work can inspire you to refine some things or try some new things. Getting in touch with other artists is a must.<br />
That is one of the biggest sources of inspiration for me in a genre where most things have been attempted already. Doing something original is<br />
a hard thing, but once again, that is where your imagination falls into place and takes you beyond what you have seen.<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
p25
What inspired the art for the cover: The use of 3ds Max, I think. Making some very basic<br />
things like those asteroids proved to be a big challenge for me, and when that worked out as good as it<br />
did, I just had to put a lot of effort into the rest as well.<br />
How would you describe your work: Original, that is what I really want from my work. Not<br />
saying “Oh, just another planet and a flare and a landscape,” but something new every time.<br />
What have been your greatest successes: Accomplishing a dd on deviantART on the<br />
cover piece is one of them. To be recognised and honoured for something you have put so much work<br />
into is a great feeling. I still think you make art for yourself, but when you realise that you inspire so many<br />
others, then you have accomplished something great.<br />
Have you had any notable failures, and how has that affected your work:<br />
Sure, everybody has them. But that is a good thing from which you learn. Once you get some criticism,<br />
you should consider why people say that. I have seen so many people that go straight into defensive<br />
mode when someone makes a good point about their art. But that is not the right attitude in my opinion.<br />
You can’t make something perfect; no one can. You can think your work is perfect today, and then look at<br />
it a year later and think it’s only half as good as you used to think. And that is a good thing. You must stay<br />
sharp and always try to improve on your work. And other peoples’ reactions are a great help to keep you<br />
sharp and keep you developing your skills and art. I have become aware of that over the years, and I am<br />
very open to suggestions and comments at this point.<br />
What is your favorite tool / equipment for producing your art:<br />
Photoshop. It just is easy to work with and allows you to do whatever you dream or think of.<br />
What tool / equipment do you wish you had: A big Wacom. If I can ever get rid of<br />
rendered work or work based on pictures’ textures, then I’d love to draw everything. I just don’t have the<br />
skills to use one yet to produce the best art. Maybe I will someday. Art is a learning process, so you never<br />
know what you are capable of.<br />
What do you hope to accomplish with your art: To inspire people in their own art<br />
and imagination!<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.
Jasper Squad<br />
Episode Two: When in Wroume<br />
by Paul Christian Glenn<br />
The Action So Far: Upon returning to<br />
headquarters from a routine sting operation,<br />
Galactic Patrol Squad “Jasper” is mysteriously<br />
attacked by their own forces, and<br />
forced to flee into deep space. In the heat of<br />
that battle, the squad’s sole prisoner, Tannen<br />
Stamp, escapes his bonds, blockades himself<br />
in the ship’s engine room, and takes control<br />
of navigation. Meanwhile, the squad learns<br />
that they are inexplicably wanted for high<br />
treason against the United Galactic Systems.<br />
With Jasper at the mercy of a dangerous<br />
thug, the squad must regain control of her<br />
and prove their innocence...or die trying.<br />
#<br />
Jasper hit the atmosphere scream-<br />
T he<br />
ing. High-pitched alarms screeched<br />
throughout the ship as the hull shuddered<br />
from the shock of sudden atmospheric pressure.<br />
The ship pitched backward and Cadet<br />
Rey lost her footing on the stairwell. She<br />
slipped forward, and fell headfirst into the<br />
boarding chamber below, where Captain<br />
Spill was furiously trying to pry the engine<br />
room door from it’s frame.<br />
With painful spasms racing down her neck,<br />
Rey jumped to her feet, positioned herself<br />
behind the captain and trained her shooter<br />
on the door. The captain either didn’t notice<br />
her fall or didn’t care. The crowbar he had<br />
jammed into the doorframe bowed under<br />
the strain of his efforts, but the interior weld<br />
held fast.<br />
Rey felt a tickle above her left brow, then<br />
blinked as red droplets fell into her eye. Only<br />
then did she realize that her forehead stung.<br />
Even as blood began running freely down<br />
the front of her face, she dared not drop<br />
her weapon. Not without a word from the<br />
captain.<br />
The ship rocked again, harder this time.<br />
The alarms stuttered, then resumed their<br />
ear-piercing wail. Frustrated, Spill ripped the<br />
crowbar from its wedged position and flung<br />
it against the engine room door. He spun<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
around to Rey and shouted, “What the hell<br />
is going on up there?”<br />
Rey, at a loss for something better, blurted,<br />
“Don’t know, sir.” The captain stepped<br />
forward, put his hand to her face and wiped<br />
her blood away with his thumb.<br />
“Get me a report,” he said. “Hurry.”<br />
“Yes, sir.”<br />
The cadet quickly holstered her shooter<br />
and scrambled up the stairs to the main deck,<br />
which was still in complete disarray. With a<br />
running slide through scattered workpads,<br />
sanitation kits and assorted personal effects,<br />
she reached the cockpit access port and<br />
stuck her head through. Lieutenant Melendez<br />
was in the pilot seat, wrestling with the<br />
control rods. Jackaby sat beside her, glaring<br />
at the ship’s integrity monitor and manually<br />
redirecting the structural coolant systems.<br />
Out beyond the glass an ominous gray and<br />
white planet loomed dangerously close.<br />
“Report for the captain,” gasped Rey.<br />
Melendez answered without looking up.<br />
“Planet: Wroume. ETA … any second now.”<br />
“Fore shell won’t hold up much longer,”<br />
said Jackaby. “We’re too hot.”<br />
“Tell the captain to stop trying to the beat<br />
the door down and start talking,” said Melendez.<br />
“He’s got to get Stamp to bring us in<br />
slower or we’re going to fry.”<br />
Rey’s heart leapt into her throat but<br />
she forced herself to speak evenly. “Who’s<br />
driving?” she asked.<br />
“Stamp’s got the broadspace nav system,”<br />
replied Melendez. “But if we can break<br />
stratosphere without burning up, Jasper will<br />
automatically shift to manual control. Then I<br />
can take over.”<br />
“I’ll tell him,” said Rey.<br />
“Cadet,” said Melendez, looking at Rey for<br />
the first time, “I’ll have the steering wheel,<br />
but Stamp will still have the thrusters, so tell<br />
the captain to be nice.”<br />
Rey nodded and withdrew from the<br />
cockpit. She stood quickly and immediately<br />
felt the effects of her head wound. Her head
Jasper Squad by Paul Christian Glenn<br />
was so light that the ship’s deck seemed to<br />
spin in two directions at once. Gripping the<br />
access port, she squeezed her eyes shut to<br />
gain her bearings.<br />
“Rey! You okay?” Melendez’s voice sounded<br />
too far away.<br />
“Yes, Lieutenant,” she shouted, louder than<br />
she should have. She wasn’t about to crack<br />
in the middle of her first field crisis. She had<br />
worked too hard, come too far, to fall down<br />
over a stupid bump on the head.<br />
She forced her eyes open and saw red.<br />
With a grunt of defiance she brought her<br />
forearm to her face, wiped the blood away,<br />
and pushed off from the wall, stumbling back<br />
toward the open stairwell. As soon as she felt<br />
the railing beneath her hand, she grasped<br />
tightly and focused on her feet. Concentrating<br />
carefully, she reached the boarding chamber,<br />
where Captain Spill was once again yanking<br />
violently on his crowbar.<br />
“Well?” he demanded.<br />
“Planet Wroume,” she said slowly. “Coming<br />
in too fast.”<br />
The captain immediately took her meaning,<br />
released the crowbar and punched the engine<br />
room intercom on the wall.<br />
“Stamp,” he shouted. “I know you can hear<br />
me! Back it off; you’re taking us in like a flickin’<br />
meteor!”<br />
No response.<br />
The captain pounded on the intercom.<br />
“Stamp, you’ve got to slow us down!”<br />
Rey backed up to the wall opposite the<br />
engine room door and slowly sank to the<br />
deck. “Be nice,” she murmured.<br />
The entire ship began shake violently, and<br />
a sickening, throaty rattle echoed from the<br />
outer shell. Rey envisioned the Jasper disintegrating<br />
into a million pieces of flaming cosmic<br />
debris; despite her efforts to fight them back,<br />
hot tears welled in her eyes.<br />
The captain turned and saw her on the<br />
floor. “Stand up, Cadet,” he said, through<br />
gritted teeth. “Stamp is a dirtbag, but he’s not<br />
an idiot.”<br />
Rey pushed herself back to her feet and<br />
looked her captain in the eyes.<br />
With an acerbic whine the thrusters suddenly<br />
decelerated; the ship pitched forward,<br />
then back again, and the shaking subsided.<br />
“See?” said the captain.<br />
The Jasper shimmied as the cockpit took<br />
control, and at last the alarms ceased.<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
“You need a seal,” said the captain, nodding<br />
at her wound. “Stay here until we’re planetside.<br />
I’ll have Jackaby bring a medkit.”<br />
“Yes, sir,” she said quietly. Flushing inside<br />
and out with shame, she wondered what<br />
the captain was thinking as he ascended the<br />
stairs.<br />
The cadet cracked under pressure, that’s<br />
what.<br />
The next few minutes were a stomachchurning<br />
affair as the ship swayed back and<br />
forth, riding an uneasy balance between the<br />
cockpit’s controls and the engine room’s<br />
thrusters. Lieutenant Melendez and the<br />
criminal Stamp were trying to anticipate each<br />
other’s maneuvers, working independently<br />
to achieve enough equilibrium for a nonfatal<br />
landing.<br />
Rey racked her mind for information about<br />
Wroume. She recognized the name, so they<br />
must have covered it at Academy, but she<br />
was drawing a blank.<br />
With a swoosh, the thrusters shifted down<br />
to standby, and the Jasper was gliding. Stamp<br />
was evidently guessing that they were close<br />
enough to surface for a soft landing. Since<br />
nobody was rushing down in a panic, Rey<br />
decided he must have been right. The ship<br />
began to swing gently as Melendez prepared<br />
for impact.<br />
Suddenly, there was clank on the other<br />
side of the engine room door. Rey stiffened<br />
and stepped forward, hand on her holster. An<br />
electric hiss, and sparks began to fly out from<br />
behind the doorframe. Dull metallic chipping<br />
sounds confirmed her fear—Stamp was<br />
breaking down the weld on the other side of<br />
the door. He was coming through.<br />
Rey drew her shooter and called for assistance,<br />
but her voice was drowned out by the<br />
abrupt sound of the Jasper’s belly scraping<br />
along Wroume’s surface.<br />
The Jasper lifted momentarily, and Rey<br />
shouted for the captain, but again her words<br />
were lost in the roaring grind of metal against<br />
stone. The ship began to crash up and down<br />
as she skidded toward an uncertain resting<br />
place.<br />
Rey dashed for the stairs, but, before she<br />
could reach them, the engine room door<br />
ripped open. Tannen Stamp leapt into the<br />
boarding chamber, blocking her way. Rey<br />
jumped back and pointed her weapon at his<br />
leg, just as she’d been trained to do.
Jasper Squad by Paul Christian Glenn<br />
Though unarmed, Stamp was at least twice<br />
her size, and his eyes blazed with mad purpose.<br />
The Jasper continued her raucous, crashing<br />
slide; yet Stamp advanced on Rey with sure<br />
feet. Sweat ran from his reddened temples<br />
down to his veinous neck as he focused on<br />
her shooter.<br />
“Stand down,” she shouted, firing a bright<br />
red blast into his left thigh.<br />
Stamp winced, but—incredibly—didn’t<br />
falter. Before Rey could react, he was upon<br />
her. With giant, meaty paws he wrenched the<br />
shooter from her and shoved her back against<br />
the wall. Pain seared through her head and<br />
she felt weak in the knees, but remained<br />
standing.<br />
With a deafening crunch, the Jasper finally<br />
rocked to a full stop. Stamp stepped back and<br />
opened the door to the boarding lift. As he<br />
stepped inside, Rey leapt forward, knocking<br />
him against the back wall of the lift. Stamp<br />
spun around, grabbed her neck with one hand<br />
and closed the door with the other. He hit the<br />
descend button, and Rey’s stomach floated<br />
as they dropped.<br />
Stamp glared down at her. “Keep your ass<br />
in the lift, girlie,” he growled. Rey pulled at<br />
his hand in vain, struggling for breath as they<br />
reached the surface. The door whooshed<br />
open, and Stamp dropped her. When she<br />
looked up, he was gone.<br />
“No!” she snarled defiantly.<br />
She crawled out of the lift and found<br />
herself on a cold stone surface. It was night<br />
on this side of Wroume, and she blinked in the<br />
darkness, straining to adjust her vision. She<br />
struggled to her feet and fumbled forward,<br />
frustrated that Stamp must be long gone.<br />
Somewhere behind her, she heard boots<br />
shuffling against the sandy stone, and a deep,<br />
nasal voice rang out in the dark. “Stop moving,<br />
or I’ll blow you apart at the seams.”<br />
Rey froze. She opened her mouth to<br />
respond, but heard Stamp’s voice instead.<br />
“Cuttery, is that you?” he asked, with<br />
strained joviality.<br />
The nasal voice replied, “Who’s talking?”<br />
“Tannen Stamp.”<br />
No reply.<br />
“We ran a couple jobs on Iliantris last year,”<br />
said Stamp. “I’d recognize your voice anywhere.”<br />
“Sure,” said Cuttery, “And I recognize the<br />
distinctive flap of your lying tongue. As I recall,<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
you left me to take heat from the jeepers on<br />
Iliantris.”<br />
If the one called Cuttery had seen Rey, he<br />
hadn’t said anything. She tested her luck by<br />
dropping slowly to the ground and turning<br />
around as gingerly as possible. To her relief,<br />
she found a leg of the Jasper’s landing gear<br />
directly behind her. She was hidden in its<br />
shadow. If she moved carefully, she could<br />
probably make it back to the lift without being<br />
seen. Stamp must have had his back to her,<br />
but she needed to see where Cuttery stood<br />
before making move. She put her hands on<br />
the landing gear and peered around it.<br />
“Come on, Cuttery,” said Stamp, “you’d<br />
have done the same thing. It was you or the<br />
shock, and we both know what happens to a<br />
man who abandons his cargo.”<br />
Rey’s heart sank. Cuttery stood flanked by<br />
at least ten armed men, and she got the distinct<br />
feeling that more lurked behind him.<br />
“Nice ship,” said Cuttery. “You gone<br />
straight?”<br />
“You know better,” replied Stamp. “Just<br />
hitched a ride.”<br />
Cuttery stiffened and cocked his head<br />
back. “They’re on board?” he asked angrily.<br />
“You landed a shipload of jeepers on my flickin’<br />
doorstep?”<br />
At his signal, Cuttery’s men raised their<br />
shooters.<br />
“Easy now,” said Stamp. He spoke softly,<br />
but Rey noticed he was reaching for his own<br />
weapon—her shooter. “I was in a jam. Just<br />
needed a friendly port, that’s all.”<br />
Cuttery glared. “You didn’t find one,” he<br />
said, then looked at the man beside him. “Fix<br />
him.”<br />
Somehow Stamp got the first shot, and<br />
Cuttery’s right-hand man went down. Rey<br />
ducked behind the landing gear as the scene<br />
erupted in a storm of laser fire. Spinning on<br />
one foot, she lurched back toward the lift,<br />
but was horrified to realize that Cuttery’s<br />
men had already circled back behind the ship.<br />
She dropped to the ground as red-hot bolts<br />
flashed overhead, and looked up to see three<br />
men taking position around the lift. She was<br />
cut off.<br />
The firefight was closing in. Hands over her<br />
head, she jumped to her feet and raced out<br />
into the darkness, away from the Jasper and<br />
the mêlée. Sand slipped beneath her feet as<br />
she ran, and then she was tripping forward<br />
toward a mass of jagged rock. With the shouts
Jasper Squad by Paul Christian Glenn<br />
of battle receding behind her, she staggered<br />
on into some sort of cave with a thousand<br />
forking tunnels. Surrounded by darkness,<br />
she fell to her knees again, crawling blindly<br />
through the maze of jutting stone.<br />
Nauseous, Rey touched her head. Her<br />
hand came away sticky and thick with blood.<br />
The distant mêlée began to be drowned by a<br />
rushing sound in her ears. She fell, feeling cold<br />
stone against her cheek, and then nothing.<br />
#<br />
Rey awoke with a sharp pain in her<br />
stomach. Something hard was pushing up<br />
into her abdomen, and with great effort she<br />
rolled over. With that motion, blazing light<br />
burned through her eyelids and she groaned<br />
involuntarily. With all her strength, she sat up<br />
and blinked in the morning sun. Her head was<br />
pounding.<br />
It took a moment to remember where<br />
she was, or, rather, to remember that she<br />
didn’t know where she was. She remembered<br />
landing, and following Stamp out on<br />
to the surface, but everything after that was<br />
hazy. She remembered the cave, but ... that<br />
couldn’t be right.<br />
She looked around and discovered that<br />
she wasn’t in a cave after all, but an elaborate<br />
tangle of towering stone. Giant rocky pillars<br />
surrounded her, reaching thirty feet or more<br />
toward the sky, their distant tips splitting out<br />
into spiny branches, creating an elaborate web<br />
of intermingled stone far above. It resembled<br />
a gothic forest sculpted from solid granite.<br />
Warm, white shafts of sunlight trickled down<br />
through the mesh, dappling the pebbly forest<br />
floor with tiny pools of incandescence. There<br />
wasn’t a hint of vegetation visible.<br />
She stretched slowly to test her legs. They<br />
seemed trustworthy enough, so she carefully<br />
stood and took a better survey of her surroundings.<br />
Winding paths snaked away from<br />
her in every direction, each ultimately disappearing<br />
into a hazy blur of mist and granite.<br />
Convinced that she was alone, she began<br />
walking in the direction that her feet had<br />
been pointing.<br />
She had to get back to the Jasper, that<br />
much was clear, but what would she find when<br />
she got there? She forced herself to focus on<br />
the previous night’s events. The Jasper had<br />
been surrounded by enemy fire when she<br />
last saw her. What had become of the rest<br />
of the squad? Had they found a way to repel<br />
Pg. 0<br />
Cuttery’s small army, or were they barricaded<br />
inside the ship?<br />
A slow panic crept over her. Surely they<br />
wouldn’t leave her here? She began to run<br />
through the whole scenario in her mind. What<br />
other option would they have had? Come to<br />
think of it, no one even knew that she had left<br />
the ship. What if, after seeing the fight erupt,<br />
they had simply fired up the thrusters before<br />
realizing that she was missing?<br />
She cursed inwardly—her own bloodymindedness<br />
had caused this. She couldn’t<br />
think of a single good reason why she should<br />
have followed Stamp onto that lift. She had<br />
been trying to prove something, just like she<br />
had been doing her entire life, only this time<br />
she had finally brought disaster on herself.<br />
She imagined dying on this god-forsaken rock,<br />
a thousand light-years from home, and the<br />
thought of dying a fool enraged her.<br />
The stone forest was thinning enough for<br />
her to see a clearing ahead, and she realized<br />
she was nearly running now. As she approached<br />
the clearing, she slowed and began<br />
to move cautiously from one stone pillar to<br />
the next. At last, she reached the edge, and<br />
there, to her immense relief, sat the Jasper.<br />
Her brand-new hull was disfigured by exploded<br />
shell bursts and ugly black burn scars, but<br />
she was the most welcome sight Rey could<br />
recall. Captain Spill hadn’t abandoned his<br />
cadet. Of course he hadn’t.<br />
The clearing was about a hundred yards in<br />
diameter, completely encircled by the same<br />
treacherous terrain that she had been navigating.<br />
Behind the Jasper was a long, jagged<br />
scar where Melendez had skidded across the<br />
relatively smooth surface.<br />
No wonder we ended up on Cuttery’s doorstep,<br />
thought Rey. It was the only place we<br />
could land without shredding the vessel.<br />
She wondered if the rest of the squad was<br />
holed up inside the ship, but that question<br />
was answered as the boarding lift lowered<br />
from the Jasper’s belly and two of Cuttery’s<br />
beefy lackeys casually emerged. They were<br />
both armed, but their shooters were holstered.<br />
If there had been a fight inside, it was<br />
long over.<br />
A new fear emerged. What if they were all<br />
dead? Rey couldn’t bear that thought. Shock<br />
runners were ruthless, yes, but they would<br />
have to be crazy to murder an entire GPF<br />
squad in cold blood.<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03
Jasper Squad by Paul Christian Glenn<br />
On the other hand, she thought quietly,<br />
Jasper Squad was a fugitive outfit at the<br />
moment. Did Cuttery know that?<br />
Creeping back into the recesses of the<br />
stone forest, she settled behind a massive<br />
pillar. She unclipped the com from her belt<br />
and tapped into channel 11, the standard GPF<br />
frequency. If the team was alive, they would<br />
have their coms on them. If she could let<br />
them know where she was, the captain would<br />
figure out a way to get her out of this mess.<br />
“Cadet Rey to Jasper Squad,” she said<br />
quietly. “Copy?”<br />
The channel was clear of noise, which<br />
meant someone nearby was receiving her<br />
signal. There was a momentary delay, then<br />
a deep, nasal voice sneered back at her.<br />
“Another one, eh? How many jeepers do they<br />
cram into those little ships, anyway?” It was<br />
Cuttery.<br />
In her peripheral vision she caught a flash<br />
of movement, but it was too late. A hulking<br />
figure appeared in front of her, knocked her<br />
com to the ground and smashed it beneath a<br />
heavy boot. It was Stamp.<br />
Rey stared up at him, stunned. Her first<br />
instinct was to jump and run, but she thought<br />
better of it. Stamp had a weapon and she had<br />
nowhere to go. He eyed her for a moment, as<br />
if sizing her up, then kicked the remains of<br />
the com behind him.<br />
“There’s a locator in that thing,” he said.<br />
“Traceable signal. Anyway, Cuttery took your<br />
friends last night. You can’t reach them.” He<br />
took several halting steps back, and she saw<br />
that he had tied a makeshift bandage around<br />
the wound she’d given him. He sat slowly,<br />
never taking his eyes off her.<br />
Rey watched him curiously. His rugged face<br />
looked agitated, but he didn’t seem ready to<br />
hurt her at the moment.<br />
“How did you escape last night?” she<br />
asked.<br />
“Gettin’ away is my specialty,” he replied.<br />
“Thought you’d have figured that out by now.”<br />
“Is he going to kill them?” she asked.<br />
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I’m not sticking<br />
around to find out.”<br />
“Where will you go?”<br />
Stamp grabbed the loose ends of his<br />
bandage, grimaced, then yanked them tight.<br />
“Xoinus, maybe, if your fancy little ship can<br />
make it.” He looked up at her and grinned<br />
nastily. “Come with me if you like. I overheard<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
Cuttery’s men talking last night, and from what<br />
I gather, you’re one of the bad guys now.”<br />
“You’re not going anywhere with that<br />
ship,” snapped Rey.<br />
“I can handle two of Cuttery’s halfwits. I’ll<br />
get out of here, guaranteed.”<br />
“That’s not what I mean,” said Rey. “The<br />
initiation sequence is linked to Captain’s<br />
Spill’s optic print. Without him in the cockpit,<br />
you can’t activate a launch.”<br />
Stamp snorted. “Nice try,” he said.<br />
“Jasper’s a prototype,” shrugged Rey.<br />
“You’ve had a good look. Ever seen a ship like<br />
her before?”<br />
Stamp made an indecipherable muttering<br />
sound and dismissed her with a wave, but<br />
Rey sensed that he was mulling it over. If she<br />
was right, he could end up trapped on a dead<br />
ship with Cuttery’s men surrounding him. He<br />
clearly didn’t want to believe her, but it was a<br />
dangerous gamble.<br />
“So, what are your plans, girlie?” he asked.<br />
“You going to bust into Cuttery’s hold, fists<br />
blazing, and save the day?”<br />
“I have to get them out,” she replied evenly.<br />
“It’s the only chance I’ve got, and whether you<br />
like it or not, it’s the only chance you’ve got.<br />
Technically, you’re still under arrest, so the<br />
captain has to take you with him.”<br />
Stamp laughed out loud. “Good old Cap’n<br />
Spill’s not as devoted to the GPF handbook as<br />
you might think,” he said.<br />
Rey narrowed her eyes and glared at him.<br />
“He believes in the law,” she said.<br />
“Sure he does,” said Stamp. “Listen to me,<br />
girlie. Your captain and I go way back, and<br />
you can trust me when I say that Muriel Spill<br />
doesn’t care about anything but greasing his<br />
own dirty palms. If he hadn’t been showing<br />
off for you and that other kiddie-cop back<br />
on Candlevar, I wouldn’t be sitting here right<br />
now.”<br />
Rey’s head was hurting again. With a frustrated<br />
sigh she stood up and put her hand to<br />
her head. The blood had clotted, but her skin<br />
was hot to the touch. She leaned back against<br />
a stone pillar, then quickly withdrew. Some<br />
vile, viscous fluid covered one whole side of<br />
the rock, and now the back of her uniform<br />
was coated with it.<br />
Rey reflexively gagged, and Stamp sat up<br />
sharply and looked around. “Does it stink?”<br />
he asked.<br />
“What is it?”<br />
“Smell it!” he said.
Jasper Squad by Paul Christian Glenn<br />
Rey wrinkled her nose, leaned forward<br />
and took a whiff. It was odorless. She looked<br />
at Stamp and shook her head.<br />
“Then it’s not fresh,” he said, relaxing.<br />
“Don’t worry about it.”<br />
With her head in pain and her back covered<br />
with unidentifiable goo, Rey felt her temper<br />
rising. “I’ve had enough of this,” she said. “I’m<br />
going to find the rest of my squad so I can get<br />
off this rock. Do whatever you like, but let me<br />
go.” Stamp stood up slowly. “You’re beat half<br />
to death,” he said, “and you don’t know how<br />
to get inside. You’re not going to make it.”<br />
Rey said nothing.<br />
Stamp stepped forward, his massive frame<br />
dwarfing her. “We go in together, and you do<br />
exactly as I say. No questions, no arguments.”<br />
Rey cocked her head back and glared at<br />
him.<br />
He pushed himself up against her body and<br />
lowered his face to hers. “I don’t like people<br />
taking chances with my life,” he breathed. “If<br />
I find out that you’ve lied to me about that<br />
ship, I will shoot you dead in the center of<br />
your pretty little face.”<br />
Rey’s stomach trembled, but she stood<br />
firm, her chin jutted, and stared him down<br />
through sheer force of will.<br />
Stamp squinted at her, then stepped back.<br />
“Follow me,” he grunted. “And don’t fall down,<br />
‘cause I’ll leave you.”<br />
He struck off in a direction opposite the<br />
clearing, and Rey fell in step behind him,<br />
tramping deeper into the stone forest. Her<br />
head throbbed, her body ached, and her<br />
nerves were shot. Although terrified of Stamp,<br />
Rey was lucid enough to know that he was<br />
right. She couldn’t pull this off alone, without<br />
his savvy, his strength, and, perhaps, his brutality.<br />
She desperately hoped that Stamp would<br />
be incarcerated before he discovered that she<br />
had indeed lied.<br />
They walked in silence for hours, roughly<br />
cutting a wide circle around the clearing, then<br />
moving back toward the far end. Rey’s head<br />
still throbbed, but she felt her strength returning.<br />
She was beginning to wonder if they<br />
would make Cuttery’s hold by nightfall when<br />
Stamp finally stopped.<br />
“You’re wheezing hard enough,” he said.<br />
“Take a break and get your wind.” He spoke<br />
evenly, but she noticed that he favored his<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.<br />
wounded leg as he leaned against a scabrous<br />
pillar.<br />
Suddenly, a hideous, inhuman moan<br />
echoed through the forest, followed by a<br />
weird, wet sloshing like the entrails of a thousand<br />
men being dragged along the stony<br />
ground. Shivers shot up Rey’s spine, and her<br />
hair stood on end.<br />
Stamp stopped short and spun around,<br />
scanning the surrounding jagged maze.<br />
“What is that?” whispered Rey, shuddering.<br />
“Run!” hissed Stamp.<br />
Next Episode: Into the Labyrinth!<br />
Want to catch up? Visit www.cirhsein.com/<br />
jaspersquad.html for past episodes, character<br />
biographies, canonical history of the Jasper<br />
Squad universe, and more!<br />
Paul Christian Glenn<br />
Paul Christian Glenn is a feature film author and<br />
director, lyricist, and all-around fiction writer, and<br />
is able to do far more than he’s been given credit<br />
for here.<br />
His bio reads like this: “Paul Christian Glenn has<br />
been writing for as long as he can remember. It<br />
should be noted, however, that he has a notoriously<br />
short memory.”
The Jolly RGR<br />
Up next for <strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong>, Issue 04<br />
Overlord’s Lair Editorial<br />
Fiction: Melpomene Run<br />
by Michael Merriam<br />
Lieutenant Lisa Cochrane’s unexpected stowaway jeapardizes her love, her career, and her life.<br />
The Adventures of the Sky Pirate,<br />
Part Two: The Assassin of Patience Bay<br />
Exclusive Serial by Johne Cook<br />
Cooper Flynn has lost his best friend to the attack of a mysterious assassin and must gather himself<br />
and find answers to unknown questions if he is to avoid his friend’s fate.<br />
ctly what he appears to be.” -<br />
Featured Artist<br />
Memory Wipe – Chapter Two, “Zartsi”<br />
Exclusive Serial by Sean T. M. Stiennon by Sean T. M. Stiennon<br />
Takeda Croster woke up in the city of Greendome three years ago with no memories, no connections,<br />
and no possessions aside from the clothes he was wearing and an Imperial citizenship card with his<br />
name on it. The sudden manifestation of superhuman powers enabled him to escape a corrupt police<br />
force headed by Captain Brian Vass, but prompted more questions than they answered.<br />
Now Takeda finds himself on the edge of the jungles of Belar lost, alone, and surrounded by an<br />
unforgiving jungle on one side and a vengeful police force on the other.<br />
Turns out, his pursuers are the least of his troubles...<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> Radio<br />
Tune in to <strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> Radio on Tuesday, August 8th, 2006. The hour-long podcast is<br />
hosted by Taylor Kent and features John “JesusGeek” Wilkerson as your friendly Disinformation<br />
Specialist reading the news. This week will have the first <strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> Radio<br />
short story, “Stealing the Rose,” by Ian Stewart, read by a special mystery voice. This<br />
episode also features the second half of the interview with the Overlords, and concludes<br />
with another thrilling episode of those nearly Brit bad-boys, “Gits in Space.”<br />
<strong>Ray</strong> <strong>Gun</strong> <strong>Revival</strong> – August 1, 2006 Issue 03<br />
Pg.