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AeroQuest 4… Canto 105

Canto 105 – Don’t Nobody Bring Me More Bad News

The Outstation is a unique form of living arrangement.  It is a sealed, self-contained environment in the middle of an empty parsec.  Nothing around for many light years, no stars, no planets, no people, no nothing, and, hopefully, no black holes either.  It has to be totally self-sufficient and self-sustaining.

The Rimbaud Memorial Outstation was in the middle of a whole lot of nothing, and so, it was critical that it was there to provide a little something for space travelers tired of parsec after parsec of nothing. 

The crew of the Leaping Shadowcat appreciated it because it was a large gap full of nothing between the system of Farwind and the system of the planet Coventry.  But they weren’t the only ones who needed something to be there in the middle of the nothing.

Shad Blackstone in his black cape and black gangster hat wearily took a seat at the table we were all sharing in Banzai Joe’s French restaurant.

“You look like you’ve been through hell, Mr. Blackstone,” Duke Ferrari said.

“You don’t know the half of it.  Tang descended on Dancer with his whole Imperial fleet and two pirate bands besides.”

“Did they take the planet?” Ham asked, horrified.

“No.  Their target wasn’t the planet.”  The oriental man massaged his forehead with a black-gloved hand.

“What did they get?”

“The target was our defense forces.  They obliterated the Blackhawk Corsairs as a fighting force.”

“Is Razor dead?” Ham asked.

“No, but he and I are the only two ship captains that still survive with intact ships.  The rest are space debris.  And they got the White Duke.”

“Wait a minute!” I said, breaking into the conversation.  “You know the White Duke at Dancer was just a clone, don’t you?”

“Professor Marou, you didn’t know this, but he was the last clone.  The real Duke died some time ago.”

I was stunned.

“Can we rescue Duke Keyser?” Ham asked naively.

“Gravely says he sacrificed himself to buy time for the rebellion.  Tang won’t move on Tron and the New Star League until his mind-sucked every bit of secret information he can get out of the old clone.”

“Do we need to go warn Outpost?”

“No.  That’s where Razor went.  You need to complete your mission to Coventry.  That’s a high population world with a manufacturing system that can turn the tide if it is on our side.”

Captain Trav Dalgoda, his ultra-nervous first officer, Dana Cole, and the Outstation’s leader, Banzai Joe came into the restaurant arguing.

“I am just saying…” said Trav too loudly for indoors, “That if I knew there were Space Nudists here, I’d have ordered my whole danged crew to get naked before I gave them shore leave!”

“It is not necessary, Messieur Goofy.  Classical Worlders do understand that some people in some places must wear something.  But since Rimbaud’s is completely enclosed and temperature controlled, it is only natural for people with the Divine gift of perfect human form to wear nothing in places where nothing is perfectly fine.”  Banzai’s reasoning seemed sound to everyone but Goofy Dalgoda.

“You say perfect?  I saw what the Space Nudists look like.  Even the prettiest girls sag in some places and have spots and blemishes in some other places.  Even I, a perfect male specimen, only have one eye when I’m naked.”

“Captain, you actually have two eyes.  You just wear an eyepatch for no reason.” Dana looked forlorn as she reminded him yet again.

“Well, now, you see?  If I were to go completely naked, I wouldn’t be perfect because I wouldn’t have the eyepatch over the eye that I am not supposed to have because I am a pirate.”

“Messieur Goofy, why should people raised as nudists need to go clothed in a completely controlled space like this.  It is not in the nature of people who normally practice the social nudism.  And the right is established for them because this Outstation was established by businessmen from Samothrace and New Paris.  In fact… by me and my partner.”

“Don’t call me Messy-ur Goofy.  Call me Captain Goofy.  And why are we arguing about this?  I am fully in favor of Space Nudists.  The ones who are good-looking anyway.”

“You are… in favor?  I thought you were arguing against it, Captain Goofy.”

“Ah, no.  First Officer Cole, take off all your clothes right now so I can win this argument we are not having.”

“But, Trav…”

“Just do it, Cole.  You kept wanted to get naked in the shower with me whenever I was playing with my Ancient Doomsday Bomb!”

Dana Cole reluctantly got naked while those of us waiting for our French cuisine watched, some of us amused, and some of us greatly embarrassed.

“So, Goofy, won’t you join us.  We’ll order some chat vomit sur du pain grillé beurre,” said Ham with a big grin on his face.

“Oh, sounds good,” said Trav, sitting down and indicating that his naked first officer should sit next to him.

“Okay…” said Banzai Joe.  “On toast… right away… as soon as we can find a cat.”  He scurried off to the kitchen to avoid laughing in front of everyone.

“Only the best for your friend, eh, Ham?” I asked.

He just smiled.  He was strikingly handsome whenever he smiled.

“So, you will go on to Coventry now that your man Dalgoda is here?” said Shad Blackstone.

“Yes, as soon as our mission is refueled and resupplied,” said Ham.

“And we apparently need to hurry to get back to Tron and Outpost in time,” said Duke Ferrari.

“But we may get slowed down by terrorists,” said Goofy.

“Terrorist?  There are no terrorists here,” said Shad Blackstone.

“No?  They let me land here.  And I have an Ancient Doomsday device on board my spaceship.”

“You refer to the Tesserah?” asked Shad.

“Of course.  I said it was on the space ship, didn’t I?  The other doomsday device is sitting here next to me with no clothes on.”

Dana Cole turned crimson with embarrassment… pretty much all over her bare body.

At that moment we spied the first of them.  A chef chased out of the kitchen a three-legged Space Goon.

“He is a little terrorist, that one.  I was trying to make some chat vomit sur du pain grillé beurre which is hard enough when you have to get the chat to cooperate.  That little three-legged terrorist just ate the chat.  Swallowed the thing whole, it did.”

“And what’s worse, if there is one Space Goon, there will be more on the way.  Especially if there are cats to eat,” said Duke Ferrari morosely.

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Laughing Blue

Here’s an old post I love that I would like to share once again. You need to look at the whole thing because your life depends on seeing as many Maxfield Parrish pictures as you can in this lifetime.

authormbeyer's avatarCatch a Falling Star

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Griselda by Maxfield Parrish

One of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in the art world are the paintings of Maxfield Parrish.  That’s why this post needs to be about his work instead of mine.  He made his mark painting ads for tire companies and on the ends of orange crates.  The secret to his melancholy beauty is the cobalt blue underpainting he always did.  Of course, the dominant color over all is a ghostly, iridescent blue.  It fills his paintings with quiet grace and powerful emotions.  I love that laughing blue quality more than any other thing I’ve ever seen in the realm of art.
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I love to use the term “laughing blue”.  It’s an oxymoron that sums up me better than any other descriptive phrase.  It is the laughter that goes on so long and so hard that it causes tears, and at the same time…

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When Compassion Fails

I have waited a while to reblog this. It still breaks my old teacher’s heart to retell this story. But I would be letting Ruben down not to keep the story going.

authormbeyer's avatarCatch a Falling Star

Vato

When I was contemplating what this post for 1000 Voices for Compassion was going to say, I read this insightful post by Melissa Firman; When the Bully is the Teacher.  It tore a few more holes in my soul.  You see, I was a teacher.  And I was not the safe, self-satisfied, sit-behind-the-desk-and-pontificate sort of teacher.  I was the walk-up-and-down-the-aisles-between-the-student-desks teacher.  I was the look-over-your-shoulder-and-care-what-you-are-learning teacher.  I took the risks necessary to connect with kids and find out what was really happening in students’ lives.  I was definitely aware of teachers who belittled their charges and used negative comments and punishments to motivate them.  I did what I could to steer those teachers in another direction.  I was involved in campus improvement teams.  I provided in-service training to my fellow teachers on methods and implementation and best practices.  I was a department head for middle school English for a…

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2016 Lost Art

This is in no way a political post, even though I consider 2016 as a bad year for political reasons. This is an art post. It contains artwork originally posted in 2016 that I haven’t displayed enough since.

This is an updated version of a Christmas picture post created in 2015.
This is a detail from “Danse Macabre”, a full-color, four-panel cartoon about Middle Ages artwork and reflections on Sin and Death. Whew! I used to be way too deep.
2016 was the year I started publishing my books myself on Amazon.
I published Stardusters and Space Lizards in 2016. I am still the only person who ever read this novel.
Filch, the Gypsy Entertainer and pickpocket
“Have a coconut cream pie, Gilligan? For a kiss?”
Here’s one that may be useful for The Wizard in his Keep.
I married an island girl.
I did this in 1975.
Muck Man is a superhero whose super power is to knock out bad guys (and good guys, and innocent bystanders) with his incredibly bad smell.
Muck Man’s sidekicks, Muck Woman (who refuses to be called Muck Girl), Muck Lad, and Snitty, the talking rat.
Me in the mirror, 1980
A photo of stuffed toys my children never played with.
When doll collecting starts to overwhelm me.
NBC never paid me for this, but it hasn’t earned them even a nickel anyway.
And so, the post ends in January of 2016 when my gingerbread obsession actually took off.

The pictures, of course represent at least one from each month of posting in 2016. They are in reverse order, starting with December and going back in time to January.

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Other People’s Children

Today I am seriously missing teaching again. I reposted this old thing that I am unjustifiably proud of. It makes me feel a little bit better, even though it is only about being a substitute.

authormbeyer's avatarCatch a Falling Star

I was a substitute teacher for seventh graders on Monday. And I experienced a bit of the time-warp sensation that becomes a big part of the lives of old people… especially crazy old coots like me.

My whole-day sub job was definitely happening on the 3rd day of February, 2020. And yet it took me back to 1988, 1996, and 2002 all in the space of three 50-minute periods.

I was visited by three former students from the past. They looked almost the same as I remembered them. They definitely acted exactly the same. And they had exactly the same kind of classroom behavior as they did before. And what was equally confounding, they were all in the seventh grade yet again and in the year 2020, apparently inhabiting new bodies with new names attached and attending school again at Dan F. Long Middle School in Carrollton.

Raul was a…

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The Song of Powerful Things

My father is going into hospice care. Parkinson’s disease is winning against him. I am stuck in Texas until the results of my COVID 19 test come back. Needless to say, my heart is broken. I need magic to fix it now. Where do you find that kind of power? This is where I am looking today.

These are acapella songs. No instruments. Only voice. It comes straight from the heart. Out through the mouth and into the ever-present ether. Life may come to an end, but the sound of it continues… never-ending. Even God does not make a song unsung once it has been made real.

I have been watching these videos on my laptop, lying on my sickbed, and crying at the beauty, the truth, and the depths of sadness in my soul. It hurts to lose a parent. My father was born in 1930. In October of this year, his life-song will reach 90 years of age. It hurts now. But songs are never unsung once they finish. In this I find comfort.

I hope you will actually listen to these. I add a lot of music to my posts, and I never notice any reports of someone clicking on the videos. But these musicians; Pentatonix, Home Free, Peter Hollens, and BYU Vocal Point all have that magic… the power to both lift you up towards God and to make you weep for the bittersweet tragedy that is the experience of being alive and knowing… well, that every book has a final chapter, every song has a final note, and every life…

I don’t have to finish that thought, do I? Now is a proper time for sadness, for trepidation, for listening to music like this… and for remembering love. And I am not through crying just yet.

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COVID 19 Testing… Oh, Joy!

Today I had to go and get myself tested for the virus that threatens us all.

I’m pretty sure if it is a viral or bacterial infection, it is allergy-related and nothing to do with the deadly plague that sits heavily on the world around us. But if you have to consult a doctor about things like this in this particularly grave spot on the road to history, their mandated response is to stick a swab so far up your nose that they can scrape the backside of your brain with it to find out just how twisted and diseased you are (or, depending on how many twists and swirls they give the swab, how crazy and perturbed you are soon to become.)

Perhaps eating tarantulas raw will cure it… After all, you believed the Trumpalumpa when he said take oxychloroquin.

I will have to wait five to seven days for an answer, positive or negative, and that will delay going to Iowa, if not prevent it completely.

Valerie Clarke at the church in Norwall (Rowan, Iowa)

In order to take the torture-test to see if I have or have not the fatal disease, I had to drive to an obscure spot along LBJ Highway, a church it seems, so I was fully drained and tired before taking the nose-mining test of horror. Number Two son was with me to keep me alive, but he could not drive because Progressive wants to further bankrupt us rather than let him drive one of our two vehicles. He is in an age group where, it seems, all the other drivers let him down, rather than allow his own maturity and experience to set the price.

So, this post is quick and complain-y because I am now too sick to write something happy about today. And I must wait for five to seven business days for the license to continue living, or the death sentence the positive test will ultimately probably be.

At least the nurses that stuck swabs up my nostril are promising to pray for me.

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The Beginning of Night

Yesterday my 89-year-old father went into the hospital. He suffers from Parkinson’s Disease and a heart no longer strong enough to keep his blood pressure up. Apparently yesterday he lost the ability, possibly only temporarily, to recognize my mother.

This is not a good time to lose my father. There is never a good time, but now my health is failing. I had to make deals with relatives to get someone to drive me up to Iowa for the annual visit to the family farm during the pandemic which is now spiraling out of control in Texas. My wife and I are both diabetics and at risk. If we accidentally take COVID 19 up to Iowa, I could wipe out all four of us. And I developed a cough and chest pain overnight. At least now I can make a case for getting a COVID test.

I know a post like this goes against the rules for a good blog post. It is entirely too personal and self-focused. But it is necessary sometimes to confess your fears before you confront them. I have had my father and mother in my life for the entirety of my 64 years. They have both lived good, long, and fruitful lives. And a time for passing comes to us all. I have been far luckier in holding back the night than the vast majority of people. But the only immortality we can ever hope to have is through passing on the small part of the universal story that belongs only to each of us individually. “I am a child of the universe. No less than the trees and the stars, I have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to me (And at this moment… it is not) the universe is unfolding… as it should” – a paraphrase from Desiderata.

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The Magic of Pez

This had to be shared again as I had completely forgotten I had written it before stumbling on it today.

authormbeyer's avatarCatch a Falling Star

In 1927 in the mythical land of Austria, where they seem to know how to make candy… a condensed form of peppermint was created in a lozenge form and then placed into a plastic toy dispenser.  The spells that were cast to make this magical item probably had nothing to do with toad warts and bat wings and eye of newt.  It has more to do with Mickey Mouse, then Katzenjammer Kids, and Marvel Super Heroes.  I have been caught under the spells of a PEZ fixation since childhood.  I remember begging for a Bugs Bunny dispenser in Merle Hay Mall in Des Moines when I was probably six years old.  My parents wisely said no hundreds of times when I was a kid.  Who wanted to spend a nickel on a penny’s worth of candy?  Just for a Pez dispenser.  If they ever caved to my begging, even once…

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The Uncritical Critic

Here’s a blog from a Summer long past. It gives me joy to recall how a movie can shape my life. And I still haven’t grown out of my seven-year-old movie critic self.

authormbeyer's avatarCatch a Falling Star

The Lyric Theater on Main Street, Belmond, Iowa The Lyric Theater on Main Street, Belmond, Iowa

My family took me to the movies last night.  We went to see Jurrassic World.   We went to the local hometown theater in Belmond, a place that I first went to movies at in the 1960’s for I don’t remember what… well, I’m old… you can’t always remember early childhood when your old brain is clogged with fermenting memories and nostalgia on steroids.  I saw Battle for the Planet of the Apes here.  I saw Tarzan and the Valley of Gold here.  Bedknobs and Broomsticks, The Gnome-Mobile, The Love Bug… Disney movies, Christmas movies, musicals, cartoons, westerns… science fiction… This was an important feature of my Midwestern Iowegian childhood.  I watched all kinds of movies here, and they were all the best movies I have ever seen.  Even the really bad ones.  Even Harum Scarum with Elvis Presley.  I…

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