Its a lot of work maintaining two blogs, even if one was meant to blog my personal life and events and the other is more of a gaming blog. I figured it was best to merge both into one, or in this case, abandon one and concentrate on the other.
So, it is with some regret but a great sense of relief that I give you the link to the one blog I will be posting in from now on:
http://friedbrains.degaff.net/kriegblog/
The blog is dead. Long live the blog!
It was a few days prior to Jump Out, the historic first jump of mankind’s first ever colony ship. I was in the primary control room running through a formal checklist with my First Assistant Chief. Jumps aren’t normally a big deal nowadays, since spaceships have been using jump technology for the better part of 20 years. However, there has always been talk of a theoretical upper limit as far as the amount of mass one can push through a single jump.
Destiny, our colony ship’s name, was nowhere near that upper limit but it was still five times the size of the largest jump capable ship in the fleet. So I was a little nervous and wanted to make sure everything was “nom and calm”. Or checking that systems were within nominal parameters and no alarms or warning lights were on.
It was during a power up test of the main engines that something started beeping. “What’s that Grey?” I asked my FAC. She gestured with her right hand over the 3-D display and pulled up a diagnostic holo. “Coolant temperature is getting a little hot, Chief.”
“That’s weird,” I said as I looked over her shoulder. “We haven’t even spooled up the engines. There’s nothing for the coolant to cool.” Then the impossible happened. The coolant temperature continued to rise and what started as a mildly annoying “look at me” beeping turned into a symphony of more insistent “this is getting serious” alarms.
“Okay, lets abort the test. Start procedures for powering down the main energizers.” I went to a separate console as Grey set to work getting the systems powered down. It wasn’t helping. Nothing we did seemed to have any effect. Well, that’s not exactly true. Nothing we did seemed to have any positive effect. It was like all the procedures we followed just made things worse. More alarms blaring and system warnings popping up like daisies all over the holo displays. Until…
“Until?” Sheila queried again, annoyed at my long pause. I took a long look at her, standing in her impatient kindergarten pose, secure in the logic and rationality of her worldview. I was like that once, just last week. So I didn’t say anything and just brought out my hardcopy print of one of the displays and showed it to her. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Of course this picture was summed up by her in just three.”What the hell?”
It is a little embarrassing that my old work computer had to die before I came back to writing at least once a day, but that’s what it took. I’m now writing today’s entry on a shiny new iMac via WriteRoom – the Mac equivalent of what I was using on the PC. In full screen mode its just a black screen with whatever text I decide to put down on it. Unlike the PC version though, I have to pay for this elegant piece of software after 30 days or else I can’t use it again. It seems good enough that I’ll probably buy it. Check back in 30 days and see if I do.
If it seems like the following story is very very short, that’s because its a work in progress. I actually do have a real job which is not writing. Well, not fiction anyway. It should be updated during most of the day and if not then throughout the week.
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“Logan, you can’t be serious,” she said. A frown crossed her face as she said it, as she usually does when she’s talking to me.
“I am, and I did,” I replied. “No use arguing about it now.”
Sheila, her name by the way, crossed her hands and leaned back. I called it the kindergarten pose because it usually preceded a long speech in which she would reprimand me like a 5-year old.
“Let me get this straight,” she began. “On the this very colony ship, mankind’s first ever, on the eve of our first system jump, on which at least 100 different subsystems are still having issues, you went and consulted with a shaman to rid the ship of evil spirits? Have you lost your mind?”
“I hope not. I’m the chief engineering officer. If I lost my mind we’re all doomed.” My attempt at defusing the situation with a joke was not successful, as evidenced by her throwing her hands up in the air. “Where did you find this guy anyway?” she asked. “Actually, he sort of found me.”
The doorbell rang, startling her and bringing her back to the present. She walked over to look through the peephole, half expecting to find the Other standing there. Thank God. It was Frank, a friend from the Bureau from when she did some work for them. She felt a little better as she let him come in. Not much, but definitely better than before he got there.
Frank strode in with the measured gait of a person who spent many years in law enforcement. And many years in the military prior to that. “Sorry I’m late. I came as soon as I could.” he said. He could tell something was wrong with her as she showed him in, then locked the door. It was in her eyes. They were looking everywhere except straight at him. Eyes often spoke volumes about a person. At the moment her eyes reminded him of some of his prior cases when he had to coax details of a mugging or rape from the distraught victim. “What’s wrong?” he asked after giving her a friendly hug.
She led him in without saying anything. He decided not to press her with questions. Let her take control. Follow her lead. That should give her the confidence to tell him the full story. She offered him a chair at the dining table and sat down in the chair opposite. Folded her hands and looked at them. Finally she sighed and said, “I met an Other today Frank.”
He looked at her sharply. “Where?”
“One of the rail cars. He came in while I was having a talk with my seat mate. He asked what I was doing there. Acted like he knew me.”
His left eyebrow raised. “Now that’s weird. Did he tell you his name?”
“No. Although he called me Ra-chel-ley. Said I was a Succubus. Can you believe that?” Frank shook his head no, exhaled slowly, his eyes on her. “What else did he say?”
Rachel recounted her story. How the Other said he didn’t care for her kind or for her opposites for that matter. Angels and their followers. And how he told her that he was giving her twenty four hours to get out of Hawaii or else she would cease to exist. “Frank, I don’t think I’ve ever been threatened by an Other before. I mean, I get the heebie-jeebies from them, who doesn’t but still. And calling me a succubus. Of all the weird ass things I get accused of being.” She trailed off after seeing the look in Frank’s face. He was hiding something and she let him know it.
He managed to look startled at her accusation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied.
“Oh come off it Frank. I can tell you’re hiding something. I didn’t even have to use my power to figure that out.”
Frank briefly considered making up some lie about having to leave. Then thought better of it. It was probably time she found out. “Well,” he started, “you’re not a Succubus.”
She snapped, “I know that!” Her impatience and nervousness got the better of her. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Look, my mental abilities let me get people’s attention and make them more receptive towards me but that’s hardly”
“You’re a half succubus.”
Sometimes all I get is a germ of an idea. It comes from a snippet of conversation I overhear or an incident that I happen to observe. I try to build a scene around it, try to make it into a story. This particular scene evolved from a conversation in a Starbucks about tea vs. coffee. I was initially going to make it into a quiet romantic scene with some witty banter between two people. But as you can see, it turned into something else entirely.
—-
“Care for some tea?” she asked, putting a kettle on the burner. He sat down, wondering how to best put his feelings on the subject. “No thanks. I don’t believe in tea. It doesn’t have the jolt that coffee gives me. Especially in the morning. I don’t know how you stand the stuff.” He waited for her reaction.
She didn’t skip a beat, focused as she was on scooping out some loose tea leaves into two mesh filters. They sat on top of ceramic tea mugs. Green, of course. “Well,” she said, tapping the dried leaves off the scooper, “you know tea does have caffeine. Its just released a lot more slowly than with coffee.” She put the tea bag away. “You get the energy over time,” she said, glancing at him, “instead of as one big slap to the head.”
He chuckled at that. “Okay, I’ll take a cup of slowly released caffeine. Just don’t slap me, please.” He looked at her, back turned towards him, reaching for the sugar. Still couldn’t believe she was an Agent. The loose fitting jeans and tie-dyed shirt made her look like she was still in college. Combine that with her close cut bangs, hair parted to the right, and she reminded him of someone he used to date back when he was a freshman.
She walked back to the table, placed the cups and sugar packets between them. “So tell me again about the victim.” He took a sugar packet and shook it as he recounted the incident. “He was a priest at St. Anthony’s church. Been there three years. Found inside the confession booth stabbed to death with a wooden stake. It was plunged in his chest all the way up to the hilt.” He got a raised eyebrow out of her with that.
“Any history of prior crimes? Any threats involved?”
He put the packet down, leaned back in his chair. “No. A clean record as far as we can tell. He was well liked by the community. Everyone seemed to have liked him. The other priests and church volunteers don’t recall any threatening phone calls either.”
“Did it look like his eyes were rolled up in his head?” His eyes narrowed. “How the hell? Who told you that?”
“I was just asking. You know I don’t come here for the mundane crimes.” She leaned forward, head resting on her hands, trying to look meek. It didn’t work. He was on the defensive now, wondering if he should just leave. “Listen.” she said, reading the worry on his face,”I just want you to tell me the facts. I’ll do the rest myself. Promise.” She smiled. “You won’t even know I’m there.”
The kettle started whistling, signaling that the water was just about to boil. “But first, why don’t we have some tea?”
Back when I was in high school I had an English teacher, Mrs. Blackwell. It was she who encouraged us to write down a list of things we would like to do or accomplish when we got older. She said that writing our goals down on paper would help us achieve them.
I think she was right. I don’t have that piece of paper now, but I remember some of the things that were on it. White water rafting was one. Flying a plane was another. I believe going into space was another, followed by working for the space program. Back then I was keenly aware that the astronaut selection process was very rigorous and I wanted to cover all my bases.
Its funny but even though I don’t have that paper now I can still recall some of the things that were on it, particularly the ones I have completed. I went white water rafting with my wife. Sure, I got thrown out of the boat, and she came tumbling after, but we both survived. And because of that near death experience we decided to get serious about having a child before it was too late. And yes, I did manage to fly an airplane. All of fifteen minutes. It was a special deal offered by one of the flying schools in Hawaii. Twenty dollars for fifteen minutes of flight in a prop plane. It didn’t matter that the instructor had control during most of it. The fifteen minutes when he took his hands off the controls and told me I had the aircraft were amazing.
I figured it was about time to write another list of things I want to accomplish. Some of them sound easy enough. So easy that you would think I would have done them by now. Especially given where I live and how much I make. But then again maybe I need a little extra help. And maybe writing them down is all that it takes. So in no particular order, I’d like to:
1. fly in a mock aerial dogfight
2. ride a B-17 bomber
3. Go inside a submarine (modern or WW2)
4. Visit Australia
5. Hike or camp along part of the same route as the Lewis and Clark expedition
6. see a Civil War reenactment
7. skydive
8. see sharks from a shark cage
9. drive a race car along a track
10. ride a zipline
11. see the Grand Canyon
12. drive cross country in a winnebago or RV with some friends
13. learn how to develop my own photographs
14. take a pottery class
15. learn how to play the drums
16. play paintball
17. hit golf balls on a driving range
18. ride a segway
19. see a space launch
20. write and publish a book
Looking back on previous posts I realize that I need more of a hook to some of the scenes. I also need to rethink the backgrounds of some of the characters because of what they need to do or will be doing later. Then there’s the matter of adding problems to the story, so that I can have a climax and a resolution.
I have some in mind but can’t figure out how to get from here to there. So, I need to regroup, get some ideas, figure some things out and get input to my subconscious so that it can chew on things. Hopefully then it can spit stuff out to my fingers. Hence, no story today.
I also managed to download and install the client for Star Trek Online, which has entered into open beta testing. And, because I have faith in it being a good Star Trek game, I pre-ordered it in order to get a spot in the open beta. Admittedly I was worried that the game was going to suck based on word of mouth from people in the closed beta testing phase.
Apparently though, people in the open beta are enthused about being captains of their own starships, exploring strange new worlds, and beating up on the Klingons. Oh yes, the Klingons are bad guys again. Treaties have broken down, the Klingons assimilated the Gorns, and are now at open war with the Federation.
And it just happens that tomorrow begins a 3-day weekend. I can’t wait.
I’ve got an outline, a couple of protagonists, an inkling of the antagonist and a general direction. Lets see where this leads…
—–
“This had got to be the most boring day ever,” sighed Lynn. She had already taken inventory of the shop twice and found nothing missing. All the same, her father insisted that he was missing a jar of ground Bardine clamshells from the shelves. “There has got to be another way to earn money for spell school.”
“The majick act might have taken off if you had more than a fifty percent success rate” piped Todd from the far corner. He was busy rearranging the herbs and inert ingredients section.
“Hush.” countered Lynn. “I was nervous. Nervousness impedes the caster. At least thats what they tell us in class.” She sniffed. “Besides, it was poor marketing, not the magic act, that did us in.”
“Poor marketing? I put flyers up on all the taverns and shops! I did all the work of putting up the stage. I!” Lynn interrupted him mid-rant. “Speaking of which, did you put up the other flyers I asked you to?”
He looked back at her. “Lynn Laxon, you are the most annoying”
She smiled.
“infuriating”
Adjusted her glasses.
“demanding”
Curtsied.
Finally he stopped and sighed. “Yes. I put up all the flyers. As you can see, the customers are beating a path to your door as we speak.”
The bell above the entranceway chimed as the door opened. Lynn observed as a young woman walked in and glanced about her surroundings. She noticed the woman holding one of the flyers in her hand and gave a silent shout of glee. The woman wrinkled her nose at the smells which wafted from the more pungent ingredients and mixed together with the ones from pleasant spices and strange elixers, foundations, and accelerants. Probably not one for visiting magick shoppes.
The woman spotted Todd and walked towards him. Her measured pace suggested an upper class upbringing. An unhurried existence brought about by having enough money to pay others to scurry around. Her form fitting top coat and black silken pants were a nod to the modern fashion trends. She spoke in the even tones associated with those from the more gentrified section of the city. “I’m looking for a Lynn Laxon. I have need of her extraordinary services.”
I’ve given up on trying to maintain a strict schedule for writing. I don’t think I need it and besides my New Year’s Resolution was only to maintain an average of 500 words a day, not write 500 words per day. A slight difference but one that also lets me write profusely and strike while the iron is hot. Like now for instance.
—-
Light flickered and shadows danced across the tunnel from around the bend. The two stopped short of the corner as the young woman cupped the end of the torch, extinguishing the mystic flame. They crept slowly then cautiously peeked out their heads. Down the hallway they saw a lantern on the floor, its flickering flame causing a strobing effect of light and dark. There in the light was a hulking brute of a demon . It stood and bellowed into the air, its enormous head opening wide, wider than humanly possible, exposing row after row of jagged teeth. The demon’s quarry lay between its legs, mewling and cowering in fear.
The pair ducked back out of sight. The woman reached into one of her pockets and extracted a glass vial. “You sure this is going to work?” Todd whispered. Lynn turned and peered back at him over her glasses. “No, but that’s never stopped me before.” She gripped the glass vial tight in her hands and slowly crept around the corner. Todd followed as they sneaked closer to their target.
The demon had his back to them, its attention focused on the gangly figure covering in fear on the floor. “Please don’t eat me! I’ve got bad blood you know. I’m anemic. Iron deficiency. Not good for the heart. Assuming you have one.”
Closer. Got to get closer, Lynn thought. It won’t work if I miss. After a few more steps Lynn judged that they were close enough. She hurled the vial towards the monster. It arced through the air and hit him right at the base of its neck. It broke, releasing an oily substance which ran slowly down its back. The demon turned and focused its four eyes on her. “Lictus Romatus!” Lynn cried. “That is the Holy Water and Oils of Saint Mihel burning the flesh off your back.” The demon’s eyes widened and it ran off down the hallway, trying to reach behind itself at the same time.
Lynn sprinted to one side of the figure on the floor. “Todd, help me get him up, we haven’t got much time.” Todd bent down on the other side and they quickly helped him up. “Oh thank you, bless you and thank you! I owe you my life. I’m Richard by the way. Richard Longbottom. Good work vanquishing the demon.”
Todd took a quick glance at Lynn. “Yes, about that. I rather think we should run.” Richard looked back at both of them. “What? But the vial. The words of power! He’s vanquished!” A sudden piercing howl from down the hallway answered him.
“I’ll explain later. Run! Now!” cried Lynn and ran back in the direction they had come. Todd turned to Richard. “Well come on then!” and ran after her. Richard took two steps, reversed course and picked up his lantern. The demon howled again, spurring him to catch up to his rescuers.
“Lumiere!” cried the girl as she cupped the end of the torch. Nothing happened. “Oh come on! I hate it when this happens!” Todd came up, panting. “Remember what Master Edward said. You have to be calm when casting magic.” She shot a dagger like glance at him. “Not. Helping.”
A bobbing light came running towards them. It was Richard. “Oh thank Gods. I thought I’d lost you. I..” Lynn snatched his lantern and continued running. “Hold on! That’s MY lantern!”
“Keep running if you want to live!” she yelled behind her. And so they did. They turned several corners and entered into a large antechamber. “Help me!” cried Lynn as she tried to push the large iron door closed behind them. “Is she always like this?” asked Richard. Todd responded “You have no idea.” She grunted. “Less talking, more pushing.” Todd and Richard added their strength but the massive iron door still moved slowly. Too slowly. “I don’t understand” said Richard as he pushed. “You turned the demon.”
Lynn grunted as she continued pushing. “Olive oil and vinegar. I made up the words.” She looked up and smiled as his jaw fell. “Power of suggestion. I figured demons were just as susceptible as peasants are to potion peddlers.” The howling got louder as the demon got closer. “Of course, now that he’s figured it out he’ll be even madder than before.” Mercifully the door closed and Todd rammed the locking bolt home, falling on Lynn, who then fell on Richard.
Lynn crawled out from under them and onto her feet. “Well don’t just lie there! Make sure that door holds while I find a better way to get rid of the demon.” Todd got up, slapping the dust off his cloak. “This door will hold him. Its 6 inches of solid iron and took all three of us to close it.” He leaned against the door. The demon rammed against it on the other side knocking him back on the floor. Lynn gave him a sharp look and turned back to her task. Richard glanced at her as he and Todd searched for things to prop against the door. “Is it me or is she kicking the air?” Todd looked.
Lynn took a few steps and kicked at the air in front of her. Its got to be here, near the corner. Of all the times I have to go and outsmart myself. She took a few more steps then tripped and fell over nothingness. “Ow.” She rubbed her head. Then the nothingness slowly shimmered and dissolved, leaving two large saddlebags in its place. “There they are. Just where I left them.” She got up and started rummaging through the packs for her ingredients. Earthen jar. Sulfer. Niter. Lime. The door shook. She glanced up to see the iron bolt buckling. Concentrate Lynn. Tar. Phosphors. Bitumen. Combine and shake. Heat. I need heat. She ran for the lantern, jar in hand. Then suddenly the howling stopped and so did the pounding on the door.
“Haha! We did it!” cried Richard. He and Todd hugged and sobbed for joy. Then they heard it. A crooning, seductive voice whispered from the other side. “Please let me in. I would be ever so grateful.” Everyone stopped and listened. The voice continued, begging them to let her in and promising delightful rewards if they did. “That voice. She sounds like an angel.” said Todd. Richard started to remove the bolt. “Well come on. Help me get this door open.”
Lynn’s eyes grew wide. The demon was still there. It merely changed its tactics. “No wait!” she cried. Too late. The door flung open as soon as the bolt was gone, hurling the two men across the room and onto the floor. The demon strode in on its big horse legs and cloven feet. Only this time its head was that of young woman with locks of gold. The head smiled. “How very kind of you. Your reward will be a long and painful death.”
“Lictus Romatus!” Lynn cried, flinging the jar towards the demon’s head. It reached out and crushed it, the gooey contents oozing out of its hand and down the arm. “Not again missy. Fool me once, shame on you.” Lynn smiled and threw the lantern at him. Instinctively the demon brought up both its arms to block, thinking to start its attack once the lantern bounced off.
Instead the heat from the lantern flame ignited the goo and turned his arm aflame. The demon hissed and started towards her. Both arms reached out, one in flames. Lynn started backing up to the saddlebags as the demon approached. She picked up a leather flask. “How about some water to put it out?” she asked. She uncorked the flask and tucked it under her arm, put her thumb over the spout and squeezed. The flask shot out a thin stream of water. But instead of quelling the flames it only fanned them, the water turning to liquid fire as it hit the demon. Lynn smiled. Thank you greek fire. Lynn traced the water over the demon’s body, spreading the flame across the torso and onto the head. Inhuman gurgling screams came out of the demon girl’s head as it stumbled backwards through the door and ran out.
A groan came from behind her. It was Todd. “Well, that’s the last time I listen to a woman.” He gingerly rubbed the back of his head. “Hey, that’s my water flask. What am I supposed to drink now?”
She looked at him and adjusted her glasses. “I would tell you but you just said you wouldn’t listen.”
Story first, blabbing later:
—-
At St. Anthony’s church in the middle of Kalihi, Charlie Smalls walked into the confessional booth and waited for a priest to hear her confession. She waited a good while, as the church was not currently offering services. It was only by chance that the resident priest happened to pass by and hear shuffling noises coming from the booth.
He opened it and was about to tell her that confessions were not being heard today, but she started first. “Father, I wish to confess my sins,” she said. “At least, I think they are sins. But then, God asked me to do them.”
The priest, Father Albedo Gonzalo, was taken aback, as he normally dealt with more mundane matters. A lie told or truth untold, covetous glances at a neighbor’s wife or husband. No one had ever come to him claiming that God told them to do something, sin or not. He looked at her more closely. Charlie had a small round face framed by a short bob. It had the effect of drawing more attention to her eyes, which at that moment were filled with a sense of sadness. Her shoulders drooped as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders. He took pity on her and decided not to send her away. “My child, God never asks one to sin on purpose. Of what sins do you speak?”
She looked at him and held him in her gaze. He thought it was almost as if she were examining him under a microscope. He started feeling uncomfortable as her stare dragged on and was having second thoughts about not sending her away. Finally she smiled. “I’ve been told to kill those without souls.” And with that she produced a short wooden stake from her purse and plunged it down into Father Albedo’s chest, right over his heart. He cried out, clutching the stake as he fell to the floor. He lay there, writhing in pain, fingers scrabbling in a frantic effort to pull out the stake. It was no use. The stake was plunged too deep and blood was making his hands slippery. “I did no wrong! I wanted no part in it! Liberae sunt nostrae cogitationes!”
Charlie bent down over the priest, retrieved the stake and stabbed him again, three times in the same place. “Just making sure you stay dead. You don’t get to quit the game just because you don’t want to play, father. Legum servi sumus ut liberi esse possimus. We are all slaves of the law so that we may be able to be free.”
Then, she pulled his arms and dragged him into the priest’s half of the confesional booth, propped him on the bench, and closed the door. As she headed for the doors she noticed that some of his blood had spilled on her shirt. She pulled a hankerchief from her purse, wet it using the holy water in the stoup by the entrance, and dabbed at the stain until it became a faint red. She placed the hankerchief back in her purse then dipped her finger in the stoup, faced the altar and made the sign of the cross. “Thy will be done.”
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The above is from another story fragment that I wrote several years back. I really liked the scene but I wanted to find a way to put it in the same setting as my story from Dec 30. My story fragments all have their own protagonists but if I keep this up then the entire book would be filled with all good guys and no bad guys. So I had to make some character changes. As you can see, Charlie is one really bad and bad-ass guy. Excuse me, girl.