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Why I’m on This Aeroquest

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For those of you who are breathlessly following the weekly episodes from my first published mess of a novel, I apologize that I am not following through on my regular Tuesday feature today.  Of course, I know that the number of regular followers of this novel is actually zero.  Understandable because of what a confusing mess it is.  But I need to explain things anyway.

This whole saga began back in 2006 when I had time on my hands from being laid off from my teaching job by the Wicked Witch of Creek Valley.  I had two years worth of substitute teaching because said witch first hired me for my teaching philosophy, and then fired me for implementing it in my classroom.  (She had never actually been a teacher herself, just an administrator.)  I found myself with ample time to do a lot of writing, and I created my first published novel.  It was inspired by Frank Herbert’s Dune saga combined with Douglas Adams’s Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy series.  So, naturally, it was doomed from the very start because it had too many characters in a long and rambling plot that was three novels too long in only one novel.

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And on top of those serious rookie-writer mistakes, I added getting it published long before I actually had it ready for publishing with a fly-by-night publishing house called Publish America whom I can safely ridicule and defame here after they have been sued by authors numerous times because my contract with them expired in 2014, well after the company had morphed and changed its name to avoid paying any of their authors damages.  They did all the things they were accused of in lawsuits to my book.  They published it without reading it (proven by some of their authors who copied and pasted Wikipedia pages and got the company to publish that in book form).  They screwed up my chapter numbers and font styles intentionally to get me to pay for publishable revisions.  And they marketed my book only to friends and family for five times the price of a normal paperback.  They were the worst publishers I ever dealt with.  But in the end, I didn’t pay them a cent.  My relatives, however, bought the horrible book and refused ever after to fall for buying another Mickey Book.

The result is a large pile of garbage chapters with some good things and funny moments in them that I can use to mess around with, rewrite, reorganize, post here weekly, and eventually form into new novels.  That’s why I claim that this Tuesday feature is about novel writing in categories and tags.  I will take the first part of this mess and whip it up into a new book called Aeroquest 1: Stars and Stones.

It will have the whole first adventure on the planet Don’t Go Here where the entire planet’s population is trying to live within an episode of the Flintstones cartoon show.  It will reach the point where the three main characters will split up and go their separate ways, Ged Aero becoming the prophesied teacher of Psions known as the White Spider, Ham Aero becoming the rebel hero in the fight against the Imperium, and Trav “Goofy” Dalgoda taking his chaotic clown act to depths of dangerous depravity.  I am not, of course, trying to claim it will be good for anything.  But never let it be said that Mickey ever wasted a really bad idea.  Or even a really, really bad idea.  Or a terrible idea.  Or… well, you get the picture if you were fool enough to read this far.  If you put in that kind of effort, you certainly deserve to give yourself a “Yay me!” in the comments.

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Aeroquest… Scherzo 1

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Scherzo 1 – Who?

      In the Central Hospital of downtown Oasis City, Hassan the Elf was awakening from his ordeal.  Maggie the Knife sat by his bed with little Artran hanging out at the foot of the bed.

“He’s awake, Mommy!” announced Artran.

“So he is,” said the red-haired beauty, reaching over to brush a lock of hair out of Hassan’s eyes.  “Welcome back little one.”

In a very soft-spoken voice Hassan said, “I am one hundred and four years old.  I have had fourteen wives and seven hundred children in my time.  I may look young, but I’m not exactly a child.”

“My, my!” said Maggie in the tone of an indulgent parent.  “You are quite the little man!”

“Do I get Daddy?” Artran asked of his mother.

“Please.  Tell him the Peri is awake.”

“Right away!”  Artran tore out of the hospital room as if it were on fire.

“So tell me,” said the elf softly, “will I be kept around for my intellect, or will you do away with me now that I am crippled?”

“Ooh, how you talk!  You’ve been liberated by the Pinwheel Corsairs of Tron Blastarr.  We intend to let you decide your own fate.  Tron is planning to pay for an artificial leg for you.”

“Why would a corsair leader help a poor Peri slave?”  Hassan’s eyes were large and filled with tears.  He couldn’t believe his sudden good luck.

“We Blastarrs believe that all races and individuals have worth.  It’s what has made us so unpopular with the Galtorr Imperium.”

Scan_0005At that moment the room filled with an unnatural pinkish light.  By the wall opposite the bed a really old-style phone booth materialized out of thin air.  One creature was inside, a middle-aged human with shaggy gray hair and a large nose.  He also had bags under his eyes as if from excessive fatigue.  And he carried an umbrella under one arm.  He opened the phone booth and stepped out.

“Who are you?” asked Maggie, staring.

“Exactly!  You can call me Doctor Hooey, or just… Doctor.  I’m a Time Knight from the planet Gallagos.  This is not a phone box; it is my TimeShip, the Star Wars.  It’s really much more impressive than it looks.”

At that moment, Tron and the King of Killers arrived to greet the awakened Peri.

“What is going on here?” demanded the scar-faced boss.

“Er… I was just telling your wife, Maggie, I believe, that I am a Time Knight of Gallagos.  I come from long, long ago and far, far away to find you, Tron.”

“What?  How do you know my name?”

“I told you.  I am a Time Knight of Gallagos.  This telephone box is my TimeShip, the Star Wars.”

“No.  I mean, what are you doing here?  How do you know who I am?”

“I’m not an agent of the late Count Nefaria, if that’s what you fear.  I came here because King Ryan Beowulf of the Time Knights sent me here to find you and do the things the record books said were done in the proper timeline.  We have a pyramid to look into and some Imperial secrets to steal.”

“What is this record book you speak of?  And what PYRAMID?”

“I’m a Time Knight!  I know things that haven’t happened yet… and things that once happened that nobody else alive today knows about.  I travel through time, forwards and backwards, and I know it’s all very confusing!  It gives me a headache to think about it too.”

“What is a Time Knight?” asked Artran, staring out from behind his father’s leg.  “And why do you have those golden question marks on your old, tweedy suit?”

“Ah, you ask good questions, boy!  No wonder you become so famous if you manage to live past the age of thirteen!  A Time Knight…”  Here Dr. Hooey had to pause to take a breath as all the oxygen in his brain was used up.  “…is an adventurer and hero who travels through time, correcting anything that has gone, or might go wrong with the stream of time.”

“Wow,” said Hassan softly.  “You talk funny!”

Artran snickered.  Tron himself began to smile.

“Oh, I’m not the worst one, believe me.  Of all the Time Knights, Dr. Emmit Brown talks the fastest.  Sir H.G. Wells has a funny English accent.  Sir Emerald Man is an original Galtorrian and speaks with a snaky lisp.  No, I’m not the worst one.”

“So what is this nonsense about a pyramid?” asked Tron, sounding more exasperated than he looked.

“It’s the reason I have come.  If we don’t go and look into that pyramid, then your New Star League will never be formed.  You will never become the Grand Admiral of Outpost, and Ged Aero will never become the successor to Shan as the White Spider!”

“So, you better lead the way!” said Tron.

“You know,” said Hooey, “Master Hassan has to be there as well, along with your friend Mr. Killer.”

“Are you ready to travel, elf?” asked Tron.

“You can’t!” said Maggie.  “The boy just woke up from a coma!”

“I will do anything you ask of me,” said Hassan sincerely to Tron.  “You have helped this lowly one in a way that can never be repaid, except by never-ending service.  It is my duty.”

Tron smiled at the elf.  He was almost truly handsome when he smiled, in spite of the nasty scar through his eye.  Hassan felt blessed to have such a brave and generous man as his new lord and master.

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Aeroquest… Canto 37

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Canto 37 – On To Dancer

      Arkin Cloudstalker was a natural-born starship captain, the way Ham Aero was a natural-born pilot.  Their abilities and sensibilities meshed in ways Ham had never thought possible.  Arkin took command of the mission without needing to be asked.  Aboard the Leaping Shadowcat Ham had always had the say, but since he retained the captain’s cabin, he had no trouble yielding command.  Arkin was berthed in Ged’s stateroom, a suitably Spartan and undecorated place.  Duke Ferrari took over the Madonna’s stateroom since she moved in with Ham as his wife.  The Duke was made Astrogator and Navigator since he knew the way to both Dancer, and Coventry beyond.  Sinbadh was relegated to ordinary crewman and cook.  Trav was still nominally the engineer.  The young Lupin, Sahleck Kim, was taken on as the cabin boy.  His job was to clean the air systems, wash the freshers, and generally swab the decks.

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The Shadowcat had two decks, an upper deck with the control pit and bridge, computer access room, six staterooms, and three storage lockers.  The lower deck had the trophy lounge in front, under the bridge, and two more staterooms.  It also had a skinning room, a galley, and two large capture tanks which hadn’t had a xenomorph in them since before reaching Don’t Go Here.

Duke Ferrari stood over the Astrogator’s holo-pit on the bridge, studying the route from White Palm to Dancer.  The jump would take them thirty hours over 16 parsecs and nearly exhaust all of the Shadowcat’s fuel.  “Who will take care of your corsair fleet, Cloudstalker, while you’re away?”

“They take care of themselves, Duke,” he answered from the Captain’s chair.  The chair itself had hardly been used the last ten years, since Ham always used the pilot’s seat.  “Besides, we’re allied with Tron Blastarr now.  There aren’t many pirates you can really trust, but I know my Lady Knights are safe with him.  He’s a good man underneath.”

“I sensed that too,” said the Duke.  He twirled the right end of his moustache between thumb and forefinger.  “I know he set me free and offered to help me, but beyond my desperation, I could sense that the man is a hero.”

“He’s a bit boring at times,” offered Trav.

“Explain what you mean to the nice gentlemen, Goofy,” warned Ham.  “They don’t understand your sense of humor.”

“Ach!  I’m just saying, Tron never takes advantage of opportunities the way a good pirate should.  That old jester just doesn’t have it in him to steal the way a pirate should.”

“Sir, I see why they call you Goofy,” said the Duke.  “You are something of a cad yourself.”

“We’ll see who’s goofy when we find the relic on Dancer!”

“Remember, sir,” warned Ferrari, “this is a critical diplomatic mission intended to forge a planetary union to fight against the Imperium.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.  I will use what I gain from the ancient device to help fight the lizard-men of Galtorr.”
“That’s assuming you can get it out from under the nose of old Razor Conn,” laughed Arkin.  “He’s a corsair that knows how to hold onto something that’s valuable.”

“I’m not afraid of the old pirate,” said Trav.  “He’s just another spacesuit full of gas and hot air.”

Ham looked at Goofy hard.  The dumb nut was wearing a bright yellow tie with a screw and a baseball pictured on it.  It was little wonder Trav was willing to put both feet in his mouth at once.

“You will belay such talk, Mr. Dalgoda,” said Arkin.  “If I am to be captain here, then you must show respect to other spacers, especially the ones I most respect.”

“Yes sir, old Jester captain, sir!”  Trav saluted mockingly.

“What do we actually know about Dancer, Duke?” Arkin asked Ferrari.

“Well, Captain, it is a water world.  No land masses exist anywhere.  The limited civilization there dwells in undersea domes.  The Blackhawk Corsairs own and operate out of a domed city called Castle Orpheum.”

“Do we have an underwater vehicle aboard?” Arkin asked Ham.

“No sir, but the Shadowcat can travel underwater herself.  She’s air tight and streamlined.  We can scoop up water for fuel and just extract the hydrogen from it.”

“How cool is that!” said Trav.  “I bet this old girl is more rugged than any of your corsairs.”

“I have to hand it to you there, Mr. Dalgoda.  No White Sword or Pinwheel I ever saw could travel in space, air, and water too.”

Ham’s breast swelled at the unexpected compliment to his space ship.  Few realized how worthy a safari ship could be.  It was designed to get into and out of exotic environments with both the game and the game-hunters alive.  It had to be quite different from the run-of-the-mill space craft.

“I am hoping this mission goes smoothly,” said their new Captain.  “A lot is at stake here.  If we are going to make things work, we are going to have to be more tricky and adaptable than our enemies.  That means we have to out-think the likes of Admiral Tang and the Generals of the Galtorr Imperium.”

Ham nodded in silent agreement.  What he’d taken on was daunting, more daunting than merely jumping out into unknown space.

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Aeroquest… Canto 36

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Canto 36 – Aerobase Frieda

      Frieda began to enjoy lots of company both from the planet Don’t Go Here and from the Imperium beyond.  Tron Blastarr had shared Frieda’s location as an open port to all his merchant and corsair friends.  Arkin Cloudstalker’s Lady Knights were frequent visitors and one of them, Tabitha Blue Arrow, opened an inn and entertainment center at the starport.  Don’t Go Here Downport began producing merchant ships of a superior kind designed by Frieda with no input from anyone else.  The controls were so high-tech and simple that even cave children from Don’t Go Here could fly them.

Frieda found herself entirely too limited with the spaceport as her only body.  She needed a more humanoid-friendly interface, and began work on a human-shaped robot body.  She scanned Tara Salongi as her model, but improved upon the design by making the body out of gleaming, chromium-alloy high tech metal with black adamant metal for the hair.  She made the body anatomically correct and even designed for herself modest black synth-leather attire.

It was during a high-activity business day that the Monopoly Brigade came to visit.  Fez Amin docked three Brigade Corsairs at the starport with a password that Frieda would later determine came from a tortured prisoner, a captured Pinwheel Corsair.

Trouble began at the administration desk at the center of Aerobase 1.  Fez Amin and two tattooed cohorts started an argument there with the Dion girl who was working the desk for the Salongi family.

“I don’t show any of my documents to a Scaly who isn’t even a Galtorrian,” said Ox, the Monopoly Brigade Lieutenant who wore snake tattoos all over his naked chest and arms.

“Yeah,” said Fez Amin.  “How does a low-level Scaly like you get such a job?  They must really be raking the bottom of the barrel at this world.”

The girl was a brown-skinned Dion.  She was as naked and as vulnerable as the day she hatched from her egg, but you really couldn’t tell by looking at her.  She could have been wearing a dino-skin swimsuit as far as her outward appearance went.  She had no hair, as with all Dions, male and female alike.  Her shapely brown tail switched nervously back and forth as she stared at the tattooed men before her.

“All right!  What’s the problem here?” asked Bam-Bam Salongi, approaching the desk.

“No problem, Alley Oop.  We just don’t want our papers examined by a Scaly witch like this one,” growled Ox.

Mustapha Aga, the third Brigade Commander, added, “She’s been staring at our human beauty with those ugly snake eyes of hers.”  He flexed a bicep with a tattoo of a woman on it.

“Let me see your documents,” said Bam-Bam coolly.

“Look at this,” said Mustapha Aga.  He pulled out a laser pistol and shot it.  Bam-Bam was wearing a leather administrator’s suit, more protection than his old Fredsuits would’ve afforded, but the ray burned right through his chest, killing him instantly.

The Dion girl began screaming.  Ox grabbed her and put a gun to her head.  Everyone in the spaceport office froze with fear and indecision.

Tara came storming into the room, livid with the offenses against her people, and shocked with the suddenness of her father’s death.  A spear of raging hatred lanced out of her mind and turned Aga’s brain into boiled peanut butter.  The tattooed pirate fell dead in writhing agony that lingered for ten minutes.

“Well, well.  Some of the cave people have some real fight in them.”  Fez Amin folded his arms and grinned at Tara, daring her to try the same on him.

“Let Taquira go, pirate!” Tara ordered.

“Make us,” said Amin, putting a booted foot on the back of Mustapha’s corpse.  “I dare you.”

Tara didn’t waste a heartbeat with her deep probe.  Most men would’ve crumbled before her powerful mental attack, but Fez Amin radiated a powerful mental shield.  He was not a telepath, but no stronger mind could be found among non-telepaths.  She tried to probe and take control of Ox instead, but he had some sort of metal plate in his head that reflected Psion energy.

“What do I have to do to make you release the girl and go away?” asked Tara.

“I like you,” said Amin.  “You have spunk.  Take the Scaly’s place and come with us.  Your life for hers.”

“You will leave this planet alone?”

“You have my word as a gentleman bandit.”

Frieda’s robot self had arrived in the office and stood looking at Amin with expressionless silver eyes.  “Don’t do it, Tara.  You are more valuable than the Dion.  I can destroy him and his ship if I don’t have to worry about you being on board.”

“My, my!  What a testy little toaster you are,” said Amin.  “Go away and leave this between the girl and me.”

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“If I assume I’m somehow superior to the rest of my people, then I am no better than he is,” said Tara.  She looked at Frieda with a hard set to her jaw.  “Tell Ged Aero that I love him, and I will come back to him as soon as I can.”

“How can I help you now?”

“Keep this world safe for me.  Don’t let any more creeps like this in if you can stop it.  Goodbye, Frieda!”

Tara dropped her guard and let Ox take her.  Taquira the Dion girl ran to Frieda as soon as Amin let her loose.  Tabitha had also shown up to see the end of the exchange.  She ran to the body of Bam-Bam Salongi and cradled his head in her lap.  Fez smiled like the fox that just ate the fattest hen in the coup.  He and Ox backed away toward their ships with their prize.

“I can ready my corsair and go after them, Frieda,” offered Tabitha Blue Arrow.

“We cannot put Mistress Tara’s life at risk,” said Frieda.  “Trust that the girl is clever and powerful enough to find her own means of escape.  I don’t believe we’ve seen the last of either one of those two people, the Princess or the Bastard.”

Taquira, the Dion girl, cried on Frieda’s cool metal shoulder.  Frieda petted her comfortingly with a metalloid hand.

 

 

 

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Aeroquest… Canto 35

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Canto 35 – Stardog Attack

      As the Megadeath popped out of jump into the Phoebus IV Star System, the crew was amazed to find a school of Lupin corsairs in an apparent feeding frenzy.  The old merchant vessel that they were attacking carried a Psion Empire logo.

“Vince!” cried Tkriashav, “Take us into attack mode!”

“Um… Yeah.”  Vince Niell locked on a nearby target and drove at it in flank speed.  “Cold Death!  You got weapon-duty, dude!”

“Wha…?”  Cold Death grabbed the controls for the rail guns in both shaky white hands.

“Vince, babe, we don’t know how to do this stuff!” cried Nikki Sixx.  “We never got this far in the space academy!”

“Oh, great!” swore Tkriashav.  He probed with his mind and locked onto the weak brainwaves of Cold Death.  He took control and aimed the weapons with Cold Death’s hands.

“Wha…?”  Cold Death popped three super-accelerated slugs through the hull of the nearest corsair.  The Stardog warrior spewed sparks, parts, and dying crewmen into space.

“<Who are you, friend?>” called the merchant ship in the Zaradese language.  “<We thank you for the help.>”

“<I am Tkriashav, returning home with great news!>”

“<You are a miracle, then!>”

The Megadeath was faster and more deadly than anything the Lupins had to fight back with.  Vince’s able piloting combined with the ship’s superior design to lay waste to sixteen of the clunkier Lupin vessels.  Finally the Lupins signaled surrender.

“Prepare to be boarded!” commanded Tkriashav to the Stardog flagship.

“Wha…?” said Cold Death.  “How we gonna do that?  There’s only four of us!”

“They don’t know that,” answered Tkriashav.  “Grab laser rifles and come with me.  We will all go across and accept their surrender.”

“Dude, I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Vince.

“I hope I do too,” said Tkriashav with a sardonic grin.

The boarding party took an air-raft, a small open-top anti-gravity vehicle, and made the crossing to the largest Stardog corsair.  The Lupin vessel was, of course, in a sorry state of disrepair.  These corsairs had all been used excessively with only a bare minimum of maintenance.  It was little wonder that the Megadeath, newest vessel in this part of space, could cut through the corsair ships like a hot knife through lukewarm cheese.  Xavier could count the scratches on the portal side and classify them as plasma burns, bullet holes, or near-miss collision marks.  It was amazing that Lupins could still get these ships to fly.

Inside the airlock, the crew removed their vacuum helmets and breathed the stink of Lupin-befouled air.  These space mongrels apparently knew little of the steward skills necessary to maintain shipboard environments.

“Welcome Psion Master,” said a red-furred Lupin female who appeared to be the Lupin leader.  “We surrender all our treasures and our ships to you.”

“That’s very generous,” said Tkriashav, “but what are your terms for surrender?”

“Unconditional, right?”  She looked at the five crewmen who accompanied her to the docking bay for support.  They all nodded vigorously.  “Yes, unconditional surrender.”

“Very well, then.  Follow us down to the planet.  We will put your people under the authority of the planet Zarane.”

“Okay,” said the unnaturally pleased Lupin leader.

“Why are you so darn agreeable?” asked Vince, giving voice to the unease that Tkriashav had hoped not to let slip.

“Oh, we need a new government,” said the Lupin Lady.  “Our homeworld has been overrun by Nebulon colonists.  There are so many Smurfs on Zaell right now that a Stardog can’t spit without messing one.”

“Nebulons?” asked Tkriashav.  “I thought they all lived in stars to the leading edge of the Orion Spur.  What are they doing trillions of miles from home?”

“Colonizing,” said the Lupin Lady.

“So why were you attacking a Psion merchant if you meant to ask us for sanctuary?”

“Bad habits, I guess.  We don’t mean to offend.  We even brought a Psion prisoner here to return him to his home.  We thought it would be a sign of good faith.”

“A Psion?” asked Xavier, “Who?  And where from?”

“He was living in a Psion colony overrun by Nebulons.  Mattey!  Produce the boy!”

A blond-haired, blue-eyed boy wearing a white cowboy hat and a white tunic was lead into the docking bay.  He smiled shyly as Tkriashav was pointed out to him.

“Are you a Psion, boy?”

“Yes, sir.  I’m a Pyro.  I can’t help it most of the time.  These Stardogs have been bringing me back to Zarane.”

“What’s your name, child?” asked Tkriashav.

“I am Rocket Rogers, sir.”

Tkriashav laughed.  “I suppose your father’s name was Buck?” he jested.

“Yes.  And my grandfather’s name was Will and my Uncle was Roy.  We were all Pyros.”

“What happened to your family?”

“All killed by pirates before the Nebulons tried to colonize our world.  The Monopoly Brigade wiped out Bradalanth Colony.  Stardogs found me in a raid just as the Nebulons were entering our solar system.”

“So they helped you?”

“Well, yes.  They helped me and looted what was left of our colony before the Nebulons got there.”

“All right, Stardogs,” said Tkriashav, raising both arms dramatically.  “I may not be the leader of the two Psion planets in this system, but I can promise you help and safe harbor.  I come bearing good news to the people of the Psion Empire.  The Prophecy of Xan is being fulfilled even as we speak.  A new White Spider has arisen!  A new realm is about to take shape!  You will be a part of that, Lupin and Psion alike!  Come with me to Zarane and we will make History!”

Both crews cheered, but being rather slow, neither crew probably fully understood what was being said.

 

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Aeroquest… Canto 34

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Canto 34 – Slinking Out of Paradise

      Gaijin is one of the most beautiful worlds in human space according to those humans who have visited enough of them to compare.  Its lush, tropical-sea environment is pleasant always and fully climate-controlled by old Sylvani technology.  It has far fewer cold places than an Earth-like world such as Talos III or Martin Faulkner’s Dream.  It has more resources than an ocean-world like Dancer or Design where no land masses are present.  And its greatest features are the people themselves.  They are disciplined by the Bushido code, and beautified by the natural Sylvani grace.  It was no surprise, then, that Vince Niell and the crew of the Megadeath did not want to leave.

     “I have to go to at least three other worlds,” argued Xavier Tkriashav.  “I have important missions to complete.  You have the only available spaceship on the planet.”

     “Dude, like, we don’t got no orders from Ged boss-man,” said Vince Niell.  “This ship is his.”

     “Ged is very busy now.  I am his friend and agent.  I tell you, I have important things to do for Ged Aero!”

     “And we tell you, Psion Dude, that we don’t go to space for nobody but Ged Aero.”

     Xavier smiled.  “Can you call him and ask?”

     “Dude, we have commo units on board.  Did he take a walkie-talkie or a commo dot?”

     “No.”

     “Then ain’t no way we’re gonna move from this spot.”

     Tkriashav looked at the stubborn rock-and-roll starship pilot.  He saw only two angry reflections of himself looking back from Vince’s mirrored sunglasses.  The hippie freak had started wearing a pair of red Moko-bird feathers in his hair as if he were some kind of Native American.

     “I am going to go and disturb Ged now, and get him to write a note to let me use this starship while he is training to be Gaijin’s new White Spider.”

     “Sounds good to me, Daddy-o.”

     Fuming, the turbaned Psion stalked back into the city, making his way swiftly through crowded streets to the Palace of One Thousand Years.

     Ged was on the practice field with Junior, teaching martial arts.

 

     “You were impressive in the arena,” Tkriashav said when Ged acknowledged his presence.  “Tell me, how is it you already know the martial arts they teach here?”

     “It’s not something I’m proud of, but I absorbed it by eating the flesh of the man they called the Black Spider.  I inherited the ability to alter myself into the patterns of his finely trained muscles.  Muscle memory is the key to absorbing the skill.  Just like the instincts I’ve absorbed from animals I’ve eaten.”

     “Did you actually eat one of those invisible cat things?”

     “It was during an episode of survival training on the planet Samothrace when I was young.  I guess I had my powers even then, though I didn’t know it until the last few years.”

     “It’s that kind of knowledge I need you to pass on to other Psions, Ged.  Do you mind if I use your starship to round up a couple of students for you?”

     “I would be honored to serve,” said Ged with a bow.  “Teaching seems to come naturally too, though I don’t ever remember eating a teacher.”

     Xavier laughed.  “I need a note for your crew, Ged.  They don’t want to leave this place.  They won’t take my word.”

     “No problem.  Will you revisit Don’t Go Here?”

     “Yes.  Young Friashqazatla is there.  I want you to teach Freddy especially because he is a shape-changer like you.  He is another Psion that we would’ve lost without Tara Salongi.”

     “Check on Tara for me.  Tell her I miss her.  And tell Ham about what’s happened here.  I want him to come here and learn about this place too.”

     “I would be happy to.  You like it here, don’t you?”

     “How could I help it?  I’m not a monster here.  I’m a hero to these people.  But I have to say, I don’t understand the praise anymore than I understood the fear.”

     The message was quickly written, and within the hour, the Megadeath roared out of Gaijinese orbit, headed directly into trouble.

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My Current Novel Project -Sing Sad Songs

Here is a sample chapter from my rough draft to give you an idea of how this nonsense is progressing.

Blue Dawn

Canto 25 – Wish Upon a Star

I honestly was just minding my own business.  The bar, I mean.  I was minding the bar.  Ugly Bill and his idiot child were talking to the FBI somewhere they didn’t bother to inform me about.  Orgus, Bill’s truck-driving uglier son was in the hospital.  And my brother Richard was home in front of the TV pretending to be sick or something.  It was just me, Captain Noah Dettbarn, and an amazing number of unwashed glasses in a business that hardly ever had customers enough to get multiple glasses dirty.

The Captain was busy with his one and only bottle for the day, probably thinking about the South Seas Islands where he used to go by cargo ship.  A place where palm trees swayed in the breeze and tropical girls danced in grass skirts with no tops on.  I envied his memories.  So much more colorful than small-town Iowa in October.  Why did it always seem to be October in Iowa, anyway?  Sweater weather and cold snaps and early frost.

But my regrets and glass-washing were interrupted by the whole gaggle of Norwall Pirates coming into the bar where they really weren’t supposed to be.

Billy was leading the way, followed by that danged Ricky kid.  I knew he would be back.  And Francois and little silent black kid and then the two girls, Mary and Val.

“Ricky wants to try the singing machine,” Billy said.  “Would that be okay? Please?”

I glared at them all.  “What have I got to lose?  The instruction book is on top of it.  And if Ricky breaks it, Ricky’s daddy the cop has to pay for it.”

Ricky grinned at me.  “You know he don’t have no money, right?”

So, like a flock of pigeons or a gaggle of geese they circled around the clunky Japanese squawker box and started chirping and arguing and other things that were hard to ignore.  I couldn’t help but notice how pretty young Valerie really was.  Even in baggy Fall clothes, she had a body and face that were going to take her far in life and going to break more than one heart.  I wondered if she was in any danger from the Teddy Bear Killer that Ugly Bill was going to help capture.  Of course, I knew the pervert only killed boys.  Still, I had to wonder.

“So that’s what you have to do,” Billy was explaining from the manual.  “And now all you have to do is pick one, put the number in, and sing.”

“I try first!” Sang out Ricky.

“Don’t you wanna let the deaf kid sing first?” I asked.  “I have never heard his voice.”

“Uncle Victor, you know he can’t speak except in sign language.”  Billy was glaring back at me.  That skinny little hairball on stick legs was trying to correct my social skills.  Nuts to that.  I ate a few more antacid tablets.

“That would be perfect for me,” I grumbled to myself.

“Here’s the one I want,” Ricky declared, “Steppenwolf, Born to be Wild.”

Billy helped him type in the right series of numbers, then the screeching began.

“Get your motor running…!” he bellowed like a moose during mating season.  “Head out on the highway…”

I regretted not buying earplugs when I bought the damned karaoke thingy.  I regretted it almost as much as not being on a South Sea island with girls in grass skirts and no tops.

“Looking for adventure…!”  I started fixating on counting the bar glasses on the counter behind me, anything but listening to that moose-mating noise pollution.  I also re-stacked the coasters and cleaned the peanut bowls.  I successfully refocused my attention to totally ignore Ricky destroying that song.

“Oh, gawd!  I only get twenty-five percent on that score?  I thought I sang better than that!”

“That was pretty awful, Rick,” Valerie said diplomatically.

Ricky looked angry, but everybody else was nodding agreement.  So, the kid gave up and pressed the microphone into Francois’s hand.  The French boy entered a code surprisingly quickly.

“When you wish upon a star…”

My beloved Jesus!  It was electrifyingly good right from the very first note.

“Makes no difference who you are…”

They were all listening with their mouths open.

“Anything your heart desires… will come to you…”

Even the Captain was listening.  I swear I saw tears in his old red eyes.

“If your heart is in your dreams… no request is too extreme…”

I couldn’t help but think about how depressed this kid had been since I brought him here.  He’d lost his whole family.  He’d been in the back seat of the car with them when they had died.  He’d been sleeping hour after hour at our house because he was too sad to do anything but dream.  And here he was putting his whole soul into a song about dreams and wishes and stars… and I… um… I was about to cry too when he hit that last long beautiful note.

The song ended, and everyone was stunned.  The machine put fireworks on the screen and scored him one hundred percent.

Francois spotlight 2

“Sing it again,” said Valerie, softly.  It was the only thing anyone could say.  And then he sang it again, just as amazingly beautiful as the first time.  And he scored one hundred again.  Everyone was sniffling or openly crying because it was so touching.  Especially pretty little Valerie who had lost her own father only a couple of years ago.  Her cheeks were dripping wet.

“Vicar, you gotta have him sing that again tonight,” said the Captain.  “People have got to hear that.  I mean… gawd dang!  That was amazing!  I gotta bring folks here to hear that.”

And I knew he was right.  That was not something we could afford to keep to ourselves.  That kid had real talent.

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