Ray Gun Revival Magazine, Issue 25, Anniversary Issue!

Our special first anniversary issue!
Issue 25 July 01, 2007

Pg. 2
Ray Gun Revival
Table of Contents
Overlords (Founders / Editors):
Johne Cook, L. S. King, Paul Christian Glenn 2 Ray Gun Revival - Table of Contents
Venerable Staff:
3 Overlords’ Lair
A.M. Stickel - Managing Copyeditor 7 Travelling With The Archetypes
Shannon McNear - Lord High Advisor, grammar consultant, listening
ear/sanity saver for Overlord Lee
by Calie Voorhis
Paul Christian Glenn - PR, sounding board, strong right hand 14 The Exile of Joseph Reed
L. S. King - Lord High Editor, proofreader, beloved nag, muse, by Colleen Drippe’
webmistress
Johne Cook - art wrangler, desktop publishing, chief cook and bottle
20 Featured Artist
washer Eduardo Lopez Mustaros
23 Hot Off the Press
Slushmasters (Submissions Editors): by Ty Johnston
Scott M. Sandridge
John M. Whalen 29 Deuces Wild - Chapter 13: “Full Circle”
David Wilhelms
Shari L. Armstrong
by L. S. King
Jack Willard 37 The RGR Space Monkey Flash Fiction
Serial Authors: Challenge
Sean T. M. Stiennon
John M. Whalen
Lee S. King
Paul Christian Glenn
Johne Cook
Cover Art: “Proelium” by Eduardo Lopez Mustaros
Without Whom... Bill Snodgrass, site host,

Web-Net Solutions, admin, webmaster, database admin, mentor, confi- All content copyright 2007 by Double-edged Publishing, 
dante, liaison – Double-edged Publishing a Memphis, Tennessee-based non-profit publisher.
Special Thanks:
Ray Gun Revival logo design by Hatchbox Creative
Visit us online at http://raygunrevival.com Rev: 20070701b
Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007
Pg. 3
Overlords’ Lair
W elcome to our first anniversary at Ray Gun somewhere down the road, the virtual door of we had to do was turn the key. But I was afraid.
Revival magazine! It’s been a wonderful, our virtual spaceship always remains open.
terrifying, amazing first year, and I wonder
I thought it sounded too easy. I thought there
was no way it could work.
where the time went. Another oddity was the art. Looking back after
our first year, our quality cover art has been the And the thing was, I knew exactly what I wanted.
There were many times when I wondered if greatest hallmark of RGR, but it almost didn’t I’d spent a lot of time dreaming and surfing over
we’d make it to the starting line, much less the happen. at deviantART.com, and had found the perfect
first anniversary. space opera cover. You know the one
I’m referring to, Grand Space Opera
The stories I could tell about everything Entry, by Sidharth Chaturvedi.
that has happened in the lives of the
Overlords and staff behind the scenes. This image was the prototype for the
We’ve had the weirdest run of, well, life. cover—this was the one we dreamed of
Lost loved-ones, lost jobs, lost computers, using from very early on. I didn’t figure
lost opportunities, lost sleep. we could get it, but it was the yardstick
that all other covers were measured
For instance, did you know we had against.
a fourth Overlord? When Overlord
X came onboard in the early going, I’m a goof. I put off the inevitable
(their) inclusion in the staff gave us the rejection until the 11th hour. The hour
shot in the arm that we needed at a was getting late and we were without a
critical time. Overlord X was absolutely cover, and I was entirely at fault. It was
indispensable to the early development shaping up to be an a disaster of my
of RGR and brought so much to the own making. I noticed the artist had
table, from brainstorming, to creative some instant messenger accounts, so I
energy, to site elements that we still use. finally worked up the courage to send
However, life infringed on our friend him an IM.
and Overlord X stepped back into the
shadows as suddenly as (they) appeared, We were less than a week away from our debut me when No one was more astonished than
but not without leaving behind an indelible on July 1st, 2006, and we still didn’t have art. the artist replied and—wonder of
impression that continues to shape RGR use A fellow editor and friend, Jeremy Whitted wonders—seemed open to the idea.
to this day. You know who you are. We can’t of Deep Magic, had given us the keys to the I confess, I don’t remember much of the next
thank you enough, and if circumstances permit kingdom, the secret of finding great art, and all day or two, but the overriding impression was

Overlords' Lair Pg. 4
that Sidharth was not only a great digital We’ve added two new publications to the DEP that we keep you in mind as we think about
artist, he was very cool and played along even family, and all of the publications want to pay the best way to keep running this runaway
if he had nothing to go on other than my more. It’s a dilemma. rocketship.
rambling fanboy descriptions. I have no idea
what he thought about everything, but he Here at RGR, we’ve tossed around the idea The idea of putting together a best-of
cheerfully went along with it, and is probably of targeted advertising, and we’re open to retrospective for our first year is simmering
as responsible for the ultimate success of the see where that might go. If you know of and we may have something on that soon.
magazine as any one person. The impact of somebody in the biz, let’s hook up and talk We’re also strongly committed to putting out
his professional cover for our it over. We believe strongly in the digital POD issues of the various RGR serial novels as
debut cannot be overstated. they wrap up—although I have
no specific idea when that will
And how about this year’s be exactly.
anniversary cover? Eduardo Lopez
Mustaros provided a new instant Oh, yeah, about the different
classic. I love it, and it seems to orientation. I thought it would
capture the quality and wonder be fun to try something different
of our debut cover a year ago. this year. Instead of fighting
with legacy print holdovers,
I could go on and on. We nearly I’m jumping feet-first into a
didn’t make our deadline at least new way of developing the
half a dozen times. But each time, magazine. My reasoning was
Paul and Lee and yours truly would simple—this is an e-zine, and
get back together online and ask monitors are landscape, and
ourselves if we really believed in most of our artwork is in the
this venture, and we always did. landscape orientation. And the
cool thing is that you can still
And we still do. And you, the print it as 8 1/2 by 11.
readers, have believed, as well.
You were always here, more and publishing revolution. And this decision rests fully with
more of you each issue, and we appreciate it. me. The other Overlords have their respective
And we’re trendy, too. We’re an entirely cups more than full with the normal stuff of
So that’s the beginning. What about the green publication. No trees were harmed in life. I prefer to think of this as “a bold design
end? How long will Ray Gun Revival magazine the making of this magazine! Some electrons move” on behalf of the magazine and our
stick around? Part of me hopes we’ll be here may be have been excited, but I have reason readers. However, if you prefer to interpret it
forever—or four years, whichever comes first, to suspect that they rather like it. as Captain ADD here needing something new
heh. Honestly, much depends on how the to experiment with, well, you could make a
finances shake out this coming year. Our hosting They say the only constant is change. There is strong case for that, too. ; )
partnership is with Double-edged Publishing, a decent chance that we may have to consider
and they are looking for donations for fiscal making a change of some unspecified sort at Speaking of our staff, RGR exists because of
2008. Frankly, the incoming donations aren’t our next anniversary. If we do, rest assured the tireless labor of a crack volunteer staff.
keeping up with our collective ambitions. The slushmasters have the thankless job of

wading through the slushpile. Our Managing The book quotes Brian Aldiss from 1974: Traveling with the Archetypes by Calie
Copyeditor, Anne M. Stickel, is one of the best “Science fiction is for real, space opera is for Voorhis
in the business, and if the magazine has nits or fun.” Here we are, July 1, 2007, and that’s
errors, it’s my fault, not hers. And the Overlords just as true today as it was thirty years ago. Bob presents his biggest show ever. But what
themselves have been the picture of ‘over and Perhaps what we do here today will help happens when his characters rebel?
above the call of duty.’ Paul has been deluged make that sentiment just as true thirty years Bob was distracted by a tap on his shoulder in the
with so much life, it’s a wonder he’s still alive, from now. real world. He blinked out.
much less contributing, and yet he does on a
daily basis. If it seems he’s not around much, Johne Cook “Tracy,” he said. “I’m so glad to see you.” He rubbed
Lee and I depend on his insight and his candor Breezeway, WI his hands on his pants and held out his hand.
and his creativity. Paul, buddy, you’re the best, July 1st, 2007
Tracy didn’t respond to his gesture. “I’m only doing
and I hope you can one day relax a little and this because I owe you one,” she said. “One night.
relish what you’ve helped build here. What play are you going to do?”
And then there’s Lee. I’ve never met a “Oh, you know,” Bob said. “Something to keep the
person who has done so much and feels audience entertained.”
so guilty about what she’s not doing. She
has continued to lift icky jobs from me, “You’re going to do that play, aren’t you?”
performing them with grace and panache. Bob shrugged and hoped she wouldn’t press the
She is the unsung hero of the magazine, issue further. He didn’t really have a choice. He’d
from stem to stern, doing whatever it takes purchased the archetypes long before the play had
to get the magazine published. When I need been banned.
a graphic, she comes up with one. When we
need a blurb or modified code on the site “If an imperialist catches you, you’ll be banished
or a sanity check on text, she’s our gal. She further than the slums,” she said. “You know
writes, she edits, she creates art, and she Emperor Constantin has forbidden that play. You’ll
codes. And above it all, she’s smart and be lucky to keep your head.”
funny and self-deprecating. Lee, you make
RGR go.
So what is the state of space opera? One of
our goals was to ‘reinvigorate space opera.’
Ironically, I recently picked up a copy of
The New Space Opera edited by Gardner
Dozois and Jonathan Strahan. In the preface
editorial, they suggest we are in the midst of
a new golden age of space opera. My mail
tells me otherwise—’space opera sounds
like opera in space’—but a resurgence of
space opera is certainly welcome.

The Exile of Joseph Reed by Colleen Drippe’ Hot Off the Press by Ty Johnston Deuces Wild: “Full Circle” by L. S. King
Exile. It means you are no longer a part of Roger Madock is a typical newspaper reporter, Slap, Tristan, and Carter escape the planet
the human race, rejected and cast out— until he discovers his published words can alter Eridani, but can Slap escape the nightmare of
plummeting through space at some unthinkable reality. his captivity?
speed alone with yourself. Or are you?
“Something weird is happening. The boss asked Tristan sighed and checked the instruments one
“You can die slow,” Bonner, the med tech, had told me to check on the cop who had been shot, but I last time. He hit the comm. “Are you in the cargo
me, with his thin-lipped grimace of a smile. “A could’ve sworn...” Roger looked up, into her eyes. bay, Slap?”
lifetime if you want it. Or you can die faster. The “You don’t remember?”
sentence is the same, you know.” He seemed to be “Yeah,” came the cowboy’s voice after a moment.
having a good time. “Remember what?” Dorothy asked. “We’re ready. Take it easy. He’s flighty.”
I told him what he could do with his sentence. I “We saw it on the TV at the coffee shop,” Roger By all means, I must consider the sensibilities of a
elaborated some on his own personal habits and said. “The cop, he died at the hospital.” horse. Tristan took a deep breath and lifted off.
those of his immediate ancestors. Later, he forgot
to provide pain medication for my shoulder. Things Dorothy screwed her face up. “I remember seeing Blips appeared on his screen. “Carter, we have
were rough those first few days. the story on the TV, but I thought they said he was company.”
still alive.”
So, I sat. And the food quit coming out of the servo- “What are they? Shuttles?”
unit. It didn’t matter. I had a fever at the time, and Roger called the hospital again.
“Interceptors. Looks like Boomerangs.”
my shoulder hurt, and I wasn’t hungry. Besides, I “How may I help you, Mr. Madock?” the doctor
didn’t really believe they would kill me. asked. “Whoops. How close are we to the core?”
Then, the water stopped too. “Hello, Doctor,” Roger said, trying to sound polite “Close.”
When the air got musty—or was it my and not frazzled. “I’m calling to check on Officer
Brown. He’s still in your care, isn’t he? “Then go for it. If they’re carrying torpedoes, our
imagination?—and I had a headache and found turrets should take care of them.”
myself yawning when I wasn’t sleepy, I gave in. So “Oh yes,” the doctor said. “He’s coming along quite
I’m spineless. Everybody has some really heavy fine, really. It’s something of a miracle. We didn’t “I know that. But if they have missiles loaded
thing they fear, and this was mine. expect him to make it through the night.” instead?”
“Uh....then we might have trouble.”
“You have a propensity for understatement.”
Giselle’s armor was in tatters from that re-entry.
One missile and they would be merely more
scattered debris around Eridani.
L. S. King

Travelling With The Archetypes by Calie Voorhis Pg. 7
Travelling With The Archetypes

by Calie Voorhis
B ob pulled the last road case across

warped floorboards. With a grunt he
pushed it into position and flipped open the
He checked the lighting next, pushing
the button on his watch that activated the
pre-show warm-up sequence. Rows of
for one, more than a few of his personas. Of
them all, he missed his synthesizer the most.
He hated doing mime.
lid. The hologenerator motor whirred and the electrics above his head beamed on, rolling
dark praying-mantis-shaped projector rose through gel changes of purple, blue, red, no- Bob wiped sweaty hands on his baggy
from inside. color-pink, and bastard amber. They swiveled black trousers and checked his watch--time to
up and down under Bob’s command, shining go see how the personas were doing.
Once he’d had roadies to do this, swarms waves out over the audience area. Then the
of people who set up his equipment, but now He steeled himself for the transition to
gobos flickered in and shone their patterns
it was just him, alone in this decrepit theatre. the virtual green room that existed only as a
down; leaves, stars, cloud formations. virtual recreation in his mind. The first shift of
Thank goodness Tracy had found him this Spotlights turned on and focused on him, the night was always a bit jarring. With a blink
space. reducing his world to dots of light. Bob knew of his eyes and a twitch, he vaulted, leaving
he shouldn’t look directly at them but he still his physical body and a small part of his mind
He stopped for a moment to wipe sweat on the side of the stage.
did, a moth drawn to the flame. The spots
from his face. This place was old, but it had danced in front of his eyes and his stomach
a certain grandeur, even faded. Hints of The green room was recreated from Bob’s
turned.
gilt roses lined the proscenium arch. Hemp memory of Thaliana Hall, where he’d started
ropes and the pulley system of an old pin rail Low-tech, all of it, he knew. With a sigh, his career. The yellow carpet was threadbare
rose to his left; the steel support grid arched he brought his own internal morph cells online and stained with spilled coffee. The room
far above his head, bounded by the velvet and began the final pre-show check, hoping smelled of greasepaint, cold cream, and
charcoal curtains and backstage weathered- it would last the evening as well. His body hairspray. At least it didn’t have rats, like the
brick wall. Best of all, it was on the outskirts warped into alien shape with tentacles for hair, real analog backstage.
of the imperial city, in the slums, far beyond then grew a set of extra arms as he became
the emperor’s notice. He hoped. The cast, his personas, were already
one of the extras. The sensation still bothered activated and waited for him. Maiden sat
him, this sprouting into another. It made his
Bob activated the hologenerator, praying dressed in her white robes, Wizard sprawled
armpits itch when the cells expanded and con-
it would last this one performance. A large on the opposite corner of the couch from
tracted. He ran through the rest of the cast. If
military starship materialized with a roar of Shadow. Hero sat in front of the mirror, as
only he could use the morph cells to escape-
engines. The dark gray triangle filled the usual, and Farm Boy paced around the room.
-become someone else, but they could only
stage, swooped down over his head, and hold a form temporarily. “Half-hour to the top of Act One. This is
vanished into the back wall. The fortress grew
out of the stage, a planetary orb structure that your half-hour call,” Bob said.
His stomach ached at the thought of the
would provide the basis for the finale. Well, roles he would have to do himself tonight. Wizard’s grey beard dipped in acknowl-
at least the generator was working right now. He’d had to sell off so many of his assets after edgement, and Maiden thanked Bob.
Like the rest of his equipment, it was cheap his exile from the emperor’s court--his voice
and outdated. synthesizer, all of his hologenerators except “Hero, did you hear me?” Bob asked.

Shadow poked Hero in the ribs. tender smiles, while Maiden rubbed Wizard’s “Tracy,” he said. “I’m so glad to see you.”
callused feet. Farm Boy sat by himself on the He rubbed his hands on his pants and held out
“Oh, sorry. Yes, thanks, half-hour.” Hero ratty brown couch and ran his hands through his hand.
winked at his reflection. his sandy hair over and over again.
Tracy didn’t respond to his gesture. “I’m
Bob breathed in the familiar scents to calm “How are you doing?” Bob asked. “Take only doing this because I owe you one,” she
himself. “I don’t need to remind us all how deep breaths.” Red freckles stood out sharp said. “One night. What play are you going to
important this show could be. It’s our only against Farm Boy’s pale skin. do?”
chance to earn enough money to get away
from Emperor Constantin and we might be “Don’t think about the audience,” Maiden “Oh, you know,” Bob said. “Something to
doing something for the resistance as well.” said. keep the audience entertained.”
“I can’t believe we’re reduced to this,” “Pretend they’re all willing women,” Hero “You’re going to do that play, aren’t you?”
Wizard said. said.
Bob shrugged and hoped she wouldn’t
Maiden looked at Shadow. “It’s his fault,” Shadow tilted his head up and smirked. press the issue further. He didn’t really have
she said. “Just don’t screw up your cues.” a choice. He’d purchased the archetypes long
before the play had been banned.
Shadow pointed at Bob. “If he’d bothered Farm Boy leapt to his feet and ran for the
to integrate us properly, like a Jungian actor bathroom. “If an imperialist catches you, you’ll be
is supposed to do with archetypes, then I banished further than the slums,” she said. “You
wouldn’t have been able to make the joke Bob sighed. “You had to,” he said to Shadow. know the Emperor Constantin has forbidden
about the Emperor’s wife.” “You just had to.” that play. You’ll be lucky to keep your head.”
Hero finished, “And we wouldn’t be here in Shadow shrugged. “Like it’s been fun “But it’s one of the Jungian classics,” Bob
the slums performing for the dregs of society.” having him in our head. He’s all pimples and said, hearing the whine in his own voice.
nerves.”
“Enough,” Bob said. “I’ve heard enough.” “It’s your head,” Tracy said. She stalked off
He glared at them all and blinked to exit the Maiden scowled at him. “You could try to the double doors leading out to the lobby.
green room of his mind to the real stage. He being nice just once in your life.” Bob watched her hips sway as she left.
wanted to check if there was an audience yet. “He came cheap,” Bob reminded Shadow. He blinked back to his green room.
From backstage he could see the ripped red “I’m sorry he’s not as integrated as the rest of
seats of the empty house. Bob hoped someone you, but I just haven’t had the time and I can’t “Fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes until
would get here soon. He caught himself do this show without him.” places for the start of the show.”
stooping and forced his shoulders back. “We’re none of us properly integrated,” #
He checked his watch again, twenty-five Shadow muttered, “bloody crutches is all we
minutes to go. Bob blinked again and went are.” Just after Bob called two minutes, he
back to the green room, the transition less peeked out and saw the house filled with silent,
Bob started to answer, but was distracted
jarring this time. watchful faces. Dirty faces, yes. Bodies missing
by a tap on his shoulder in the real world. He
limbs, veterans from the Emperor’s ongoing
Hero still stared in the mirror, practicing blinked out.

conquests, refugees, orphans, the detritus of Shadow laughed, sprawled in his black robe Bob wiped his forehead now that the
society, but an audience all the same. His socks on the couch, his helmet beside him. “How moment had eased.
slid in his shoes as his feet began to sweat. much did he cost you again?”
“They’re awfully quiet out there,” Maiden
Bob’s watch vibrated against his wrist and he “Shut up,” Bob said. He straightened his said.
flicked to the green room. “Places, everyone! shoulders. “Well, we’ll just have to go in there
Looks like we’ve got a full house after all.” after him. Again.” “Too quiet,” Wizard agreed.
Maiden whooped with delight, and even Wizard nodded. “I’ll help.” Shadow snorted. “Perhaps Farm Boy killed
Shadow perked up. them with his acting.”
It was as bad as Bob expected when they
“Break a leg, folks!” Bob exited the green burst into the small bathroom. Farm Boy knelt A pulse began to pound in Bob’s temple.
room and made his way onstage in the dark, in front of the porcelain, clutching the toilet
waiting for Maiden to assume his physical seat with tight hands, retching. Bob got him to #
body. Breasts sprouted and his hips swelled as his feet while Wizard wet a cloth and held it to
the morphing system turned him into Maiden. Farm Boy’s head. The rest of Act I flowed smoothly, although
Bob became the stage manager, relegated to Farm Boy had to be tossed out pale and sweaty
running the show. He stood in the doorway “Get it together,” Bob said. for each of his entrances.
of the green room and watched the action on Farm Boy groaned. “I can’t. I can’t do this. In rapid succession, Farm Boy took Maiden’s
stage. What if I forget my pantomime? What if they message to Wizard and they went off to rescue
The hologenerator flickered on, and the laugh at me?” her.
lights powered up on cue, and the opening “What if they don’t even notice you?” Then came the bar scene. Bob forced his
scene of an ovoid house surrounded by white Shadow said from the green room. morphing cells into manual mode, using the
sand materialized.
“Shut up,” Bob and Wizard said at the same stock extras of the system. The spirit of these
On stage, Maiden bent down. She begged time. characters he would have to provide. If only
an unseen figure for rescue from her kidnap- to the One on each side, they hustled Farm Boy he had more money, a proper cast. If only his
pers. It took a delicate touch for the personas on justgreen room door. They hurled Farm Boy palms would stop sweating.
in time to make his cue and then stood
to morph from one to another while keeping watching the stage from the doorway. Morphing tentacles and a saxophone, he
the flow going, but Bob didn’t worry about it.
started immediately off on a wrong note. The
Bob waited for him to move, to act. He sound of
Bob headed to the green room to check on knew a bleating sax, almost the noise of
what Farm Boy felt--anticipation, adren- a goat, rang
Farm Boy—he was up next. through the audience. He took
aline, and nausea. He prayed he wouldn’t have a deep breath to steady himself and tried
to take over--he’d become a Jungian actor to again. He reminded
# himself not to look at the
avoid acting himself. audience and kept on playing. His hands shook,
“What do you mean, he won’t come out?” Seconds ticked away as the audience stared but he hit the notes.
Bob mentally ran his hands over his balding back at the youth with disheveled blond hair. His stomach roiled by the time he came
head. Finally Farm Boy stepped forward and started offstage and he felt as green as Farm Boy.
to perform, pantomiming the beauty of the Thank goodness
“He says he can’t do it,” Wizard said. that for the rest of the show
Maiden he’d just seen and his urge to help her.

he could use the personas and not himself. “If we had a voice this wouldn’t be “Perhaps they don’t want to draw attention
happening. I hate miming.” Wizard said and to themselves,” Tracy said, her back to Bob.
Hero swaggered into the scene, taking the glared at Shadow.
Farm Boy under his wing, rebuilding Bob’s lost Or perhaps they’re enjoying the show, Bob
momentum. “I thought it was funny. I still think it’s thought, but are too afraid to react.
funny,” Shadow said.
Hero helped Wizard and Farm Boy escape Bob hurried after Tracy. He grabbed her
in his ship, off to rescue Maiden from the evil Maiden frowned at him. “Pity the emperor shoulder.
fortress. With a final cue from Bob, the ship didn’t.” She fussed over her hair for a second,
faded into intermission. patting her two braided buns to verify they “Let go of me.” She tried to shake him off.
were still in place.
Act I ended with a thud of silence from the “I’ve got to keep going. It’s my only
audience. A hand smacked his shoulder in the real chance.”
world. “Excuse me,” he told the archetypes “I don’t care,” she said. “I really don’t.” She
# and blinked out of the green room. pulled away. “I’ll give you a few minutes to run.
“Yes?” he said to Tracy. It’s the best I can do.” Her voice sounded sad,
“What the hell is going on with these but determined.
people?” Hero asked. The rest of the cast She glared at him with brown eyes and
stayed silent, glum in their chairs. “I gave clouted him again. “There’s an agent here,” Bob felt his hand curl into a fist. The show
them my best strut and wink and still didn’t get she said. Her thin mouth tightened further. had to go on.
a damn morsel back from them. Not a single “Look!”
sigh from anyone.” He socked her in the jaw as gently as he
Bob peered out into the audience from the could and caught her as she collapsed. Bob
“Maybe they just don’t get it,” Maiden said. edge of the stage. He could see a dim form in lowered her to the floor and propped her up
“Maybe you’ve lost your touch.” an imperial gray suit amid a ring of empty seats. against the stage wall. Her head lolled to one
The man was taking notes on a hand-held side. He checked her pulse—she would be fine.
“Never,” Hero said, and blew her a kiss. He regretted doing it, but. . .
recorder.
Sounds of retching came from the bathroom, The show would go on. He would finish this
“Crap,” he said, as his stomach sank.
followed by a moan. one last piece, even if he did go to jail.
“I’m calling the show,” Tracy said. “I’m not
“Maybe they just don’t like you,” Shadow He blinked to the green room as the watch
going to jail for sedition for you.”
said, his voice dry. on his wrist vibrated. The cast stared at him.
“Please don’t,” Bob said. “If you call the
“You won’t do any better in the second act,” “What have you done?” Maiden asked. She
show I won’t get paid.” He tried to swallow,
Hero said. “They’re an energy sink.” grabbed Bob’s hand. “Did you hit someone?”
his mouth dry.
Bob joined him on the couch. He didn’t Bob ignored her, ignored the looks of
“Tough.” Tracy turned away.
know what to say. They were an energy sink, disbelief from all of the cast. “Places for the
the most unresponsive audience he’d ever “Why isn’t the audience leaving?” he start of Act Two.”
played to. Only the occasional rustle had asked.
assured him they were even alive out there. Wizard got to his feet. “We’re doomed.”

# going to jail and he’s taking us all with him. No.

We’re screwed.”
Act II commenced with the starship Bob stepped forward. The duel, that was
captured by the orbital fortress world. Bob The green room shivered and twisted. It it! They had to be at the duel scene. Oh God,
was glad to see the personas were taking their blinked in and out, the stage superimposed. he had to do the hardest scene by himself.
jobs seriously. “Bob!” Maiden said. He forced the morph cells back online and
Hero kept his shoulders back and his chest straightened. Another step and he began the
“I knew it would get worse,” Shadow said. labored breathing of Shadow. He flicked on
out, radiating confidence and bravado through “You can count on it every time.”
his cocky walk. He flirted with the Maiden, by the light sword at his side.
teasing and insulting her. With a last strobe of light, the green room With action, each moment became more
vanished. and more possible.
Maiden returned gibe for gibe.
And then Shadow entered. He took a few # He darted forward as Shadow. The sword
minutes to let the menace of his presence wash arched through the air. Hoarse rasping breath
over the crowd. He glided over the stage in his Bob stared at the house and the audience rolled across the audience.
black helmet and flipped his cape with grace. stared back. Of all the times for the system to He forced the cells to switch to Wizard and
go wrong, it had to pick now. Of course, he began a series of classical defense moves.
# thought. He swallowed a giggle. The spotlight
beat down on his face and he could feel his body For a moment he was Shadow, then Wizard,
“Seven hells!” Shadow said when he popped morphing back to norm. His hair receded and then Shadow again, as he played both roles,
back into the green room. “There really is an his shoulders slumped as the system reset. both sides of the duel. The morph cells shifted
imperial agent.” back and forth from the old man to his former
The audience waited. student.
Bob groaned. He watched Shadow pace Bob waited. He blinked, but nothing
around the room, avoiding the Wizard’s Shadow darted forward. Bob morphed back
happened. The green room system was still
out-flung sandaled feet. into Wizard and blocked the sword thrust.
down.
His jaw ached from gritting his teeth. Think, He Bob
“Well, there’s nothing to be done about it ignored the sweat dripping into his eyes.
now,” Maiden said as she interrupted Shadow’s danced around the stage. Parry, riposte.
he admonished himself. What happens next? Wizard’s brown
path. She turned him around and massaged robes flapped. Shadow’s black
He had to do something.
his shoulders with narrow white fingers. cape snapped. Bob lost himself in the moment,
He had to act. He knew this play, forwards in the Zen of the part, and forgot about the
“Don’t say it,” Hero said. “Do not say it.” and backwards. He knew every light cue, faces staring him down, forgot about the
“The show must go on,” she continued as every set movement. But he’d never done it imperial agent, forgot about everything other
she rubbed Shadow’s shoulders. himself. Not without the help of the personas, than the joy of the moment and the rush of
who weren’t here. He was alone in the white adrenaline.
Hero slumped in his chair. spotlight.
#
“We’re going to jail,” Shadow said. “Bob’s He blinked again, hoping that maybe . . .

When the system came back online, Bob finish this.” Then one woman stood up in the audience.
relinquished control to Farm Boy and headed She looked up at Bob and started clapping.
for the green room. The duel was complete, “And then go to jail,” Maiden said. Clap, clap. A few rows away another person
the Wizard dead, but his spirit continued on. joined her. Then another.
The Maiden was saved. All that remained was #
the destruction of the dark fortress and the Bob stood there, still under the bright lights
vanquishing of Shadow by the Farm Boy. The audience sat still and silent and the ring as the audience came to life. The clapping
of empty seats around the imperial agent had swelled. The noise drowned out the imperial
His cheeks ached with an unfamiliar grown. Bob let each person assume control agent.
feeling. for their bow. As himself, he took a quick bow, He felt his cheeks stretch wider and wider,
“Wheee!” he said and spun about the and stepped back. The show was complete. and his face felt wet, though he didn’t know
It wasn’t the best he’d done, but it was by no
room. why.
means the worst either.
Wizard stepped forward and shook Bob’s The crowd surged forward. “BOB!” They
hand. “I’m proud of you. After all this time, the He waited, still under the bright lights for cheered him, these remnants of humanity, the
agent to move forward, for the arrest he
you’re starting to truly integrate us instead of knew was coming. losers, misfits, and outcasts.
just using us.”
The mob pressed closer and closer to the
The man stood up and made his way to the
Bob grabbed Maiden and kissed her. “I did aisle. agent. They trapped him between the edge of
The crowd got out of his way.
it!” the stage and their bodies.
“You did,” she said, wiping her mouth. “But He’dBob stayed in the center of the spotlight. The guards ran from the stage wings. They
never get his voice synthesizer back, never
don’t do that again. It’s just too weird to be perform again. reached down to pull the agent up, but the
He heard footsteps and looked
kissing a part of yourself.” crowd kept hold. Bob could see the white fear
to the sides of the stage. Guards in white armor in the agent’s taut angular face.
“I don’t give a damn.” Bob danced over to filled the wings.
Shadow and kissed him too. When released, Bob looked out at the audience again, still
The imperial agent stopped when he
Shadow sat on the couch and started giggling. reached cheering and shouting his name. He filled
the lip of the stage and pulled a sheaf himself with the sight, drank in the sound to
After a few seconds, Bob and the rest joined of papers from a jacket pocket. He tilted his store away. And then he turned and ran for
in. The laughter spread from persona to person head up and met Bob’s eyes. the backstage door.
and back again, growing to a roar. When Farm “I arrest you, Bob Knight, on charges of
Boy came back at the end, they pulled him into sedition, As he ran, he could hear the archetypes
performing a banned piece, inciting
a group hug. inside his head, encouraging him. Shadow,
a crowd . . .” Hero, Maiden, Wizard, Farm Boy—all those
“Time for the curtain call,” Bob said as he parts of himself, integrated at last.
It was worse than Bob had thought it would
recollected himself. be. With these multiple charges there was no Perhaps he could contact the rebel under-
“Oh, why bother,” Shadow said. “We could chance he’d ever get out. And the agent was ground. With agents looking for him there was
try to sneak out the back.” still reading. no way for him to get off planet now. And he
He was ruined, destroyed. wanted to keep on acting. Perhaps he could
“It’s the form of the thing,” Bob said. “We’ll stage the show again . . . Perhaps . . .

Calie Voorhis

Calie Voorhis is a life-long fan of the
fantastic, a self-proclaimed geek,
Odyssey workshop survivor, and current
Seton Hill student.

The Exile of Joseph Reed by Colleen Drippe’ Pg. 14
The Exile of Joseph Reed

Mild language
by Colleen Drippe’
W hen I woke in the pseudo-morning,

sore of muscle and bleary-eyed,
Vincent was leaning against the grainy, green
definite: cooperate, do the experiments, work
out with the machines, report the results.
best-educated corpse this side of the next
galaxy.
front of a storage cabinet. The back of his head “You can die slow,” Bonner, the med tech Man in hyperspace—that’s me. At least I
was all pulped and blackened, and a big, tight, had told me, with his thin-lipped grimace of a think so. I’d heard all that about the speed of
toothy grin was plastered on his yellowed face. smile. “A lifetime if you want it. Or you can die light and being all twisted up and flattened out
I didn’t know if that grin meant rigor mortis or faster. The sentence is the same, you know.” or living backwards—and none of it seemed to
good morning. He seemed to be having a good time. be happening. Of course, how would I know? I
was observing myself, and I and me were both
It was always hard to tell. His eyes were I told him what he could do with his barreling along at some unthinkable speed
dull and sunken, but far in the back some spark sentence. I elaborated some on his own together. There was no place for an objective
let me know he saw me. personal habits and those of his immediate observer to stand. The radio seemed to only
ancestors. Later, he forgot to provide pain work one way if at all. When I read off infor-
I rolled over, groping for a government medication for my shoulder. Things were rough mation into a grey, metal grille, a light would
issue Nikstik. As I lit the thing, I heard the air those first few days. come on. That was supposed to be an acknowl-
filter kick on with a self-righteous hum and, edgment. But when I said something like, “Hey
when I turned back, Vincent was gone. So, I sat. And the food quit coming out of there, you jerks. How’s things in the good old
the servo-unit. It didn’t matter. I had a fever at solar system?” the light would go out. I guess
Almost unconsciously I relaxed, easing my the time, and my shoulder hurt, and I wasn’t they picked it up, but no one was letting on.
back against the padded bed-wall while smoke hungry. Besides, I didn’t really believe they
drifted in clouds against the pale curve of the would kill me. To tell the truth, I hadn’t heard a human
ceiling. The shoulder burn I got when they took voice other than my own in two weeks. Vincent
me was almost healed, though it still itched a Then, the water stopped too. was silent, and so, for the most part, was I. I was
bit, and I was in pretty good shape physically, afraid to start talking to myself—and talking to
When the air got musty—or was it my
for what that was worth— Vincent was a waste of time.
imagination?—and I had a headache and found
It was not, of course, as though anyone myself yawning when I wasn’t sleepy, I gave in. After my second amber-papered smoke, I
gave a damn, I thought ruefully. I had my So I’m spineless. Everybody has some really hauled myself out of bed and shoved the sleep
duties—most of them meaningless—and, sick heavy thing they fear, and this was mine. unit into the wall. Vincent was back, grinning
or well, I knew now that if I didn’t do as I was his mindless grin and blocking the doorway
I went to work setting up an array of mean-
told, I wouldn’t live long. with his shambling form. I regarded him criti-
ingless experiments according to the instruc-
tions provided. But I knew full well I was the cally, noting how he seemed to have deterio-
The first thing I had tried after I woke up
prime guinea pig. I did my exercises, measured rated in the last couple of weeks. Still, it was
here was a good old-fashioned sit-down strike.
my heart rate, took blood samples, and then not as much I told myself as—not like he’d
They had read me the rules before they put me
did the mental stuff. It looked like I’d be the been in his grave for two weeks.
under that final time and things were pretty

But he had. Vincent never bothered me when I a fancy laser or anything like that, the Torman
was busy, but he had a way of turning up at was just good for a silent burst of close range
I slid my own eyes away from his muddy mealtimes and staring at me as though he energy.
ones and wondered if they had shot him full knew he would never eat again. Just staring,
of formaldehyde back on Earth. Somehow, you know. And I would look up at his cheesy- With one shaking hand, I would pick
I could almost smell him, and I wondered chunky face and down at my cheesy-chunky up the Torman and cross the frayed brown
morbidly what was going on beneath his grey- meal and try not to throw up. carpet, feeling the cold hardness of the
yellow skin. cement beneath even through my shoes.
And I would eat. I’m a survival type. God And there would be the bedroom door, fake
“And now,” I told myself, “Joseph Reed knows what I have to live for, but I just go on. wood veneer peeling from a plastic frame. It
is going space happy.” My voice seemed to was just a door, but somehow, it was so very
rasp out like an old rusty gate, startling me Sometimes, after I finished, I would slip meaningful. It was as though that door would
and causing my heart to hammer wildly for a my grey plastic tray back in the slot and return open into something more than a dingy little
moment. Then I stretched my lips into a grin to the math machine. I wanted to be good and room in a moldering old house. And I guess it
of my own. “Good going, Vincent,” I told him. tired before I hit that bed, and I didn’t want to did at least for me.
“You make a great zombie.” dream if I could help it.
I would pull off the lock field cube and
And then I walked through him and into The dreaming part, you see, was the step inside, gun in hand. That’s how it was,
the workroom. worst. Worse than looking at Vincent even. It that part, in real life.
wouldn’t surprise me if they put something in
# the water to help things along. Or maybe they Vincent would look at me, and I would
put it in the smokes. know that he knew his time had run out. His
The stuff I did kept me busy. When I finished eyes would widen slightly.
Oh sure, I knew old Vincent was a holo. He
a session of body and brain work, I was ready was just a little added touch of spite in case “Turn around, man,” I told him, my voice
to sleep again. That was a good thing, really, solitude and hopelessness weren’t enough to tight but not mean. “It’s easier that way.” I
because they hadn’t left me much else to do. drive me mad. didn’t tell him I had never done this before.
No games, no entertainment, no books. Only
the Nikstiks, which tasted worse each day. I didn’t know his first name before my trial. He got this look then like, Yeah, I’m scared
Vincent was just a guy on the wrong side— but who are you to tell me to turn around so
Oh, I did some reading, but it was all on a someone we held in the basement apartment you can shoot me? What right do you have?
screen—and it was followed by endless tests until we were sure they were not going to But all he said was, “Easier for who?”
to see if I’d taken it in. It was mostly useless meet our demands. And then, somehow, I was
stuff like how to tan hides or build a log cabin. I grabbed him and turned him and—it was
the one who got to do it.
A cabin in space, would you believe? The only over just like that, before either of us knew I
thing I liked was the math. Over and over in my dreams, I would watch was going to do it.
the others leave—Bosk (Good luck, Joey), Tony
So after a session, muscles aching and So that’s how it was in my memory. It
(See ya, man), and Dr. Ellis.
head spinning, I would sit down and eat the was at the point when the others left that
tasteless crap that came from the serv-unit, I would close the door behind them and the dream would deviate from what really
shoveling in some kind of hi-protein oatmeal activate the lock. And I would go over to the happened. I would go over and pull off the
while I kept an eye out for Vincent. table and pick up the little Torman special. Not locking cube and swing back the door on its

fake brass hinges and there he would be with It was the old kind of book, and it had essential cool guy. And then, when I found out
his back to me. His grey and white clothing pages and a cover. I picked it up gingerly from what they were going to do to me, I managed
would be rumpled and he would be twisting the floor wondering, what the hell—? to keep my fear—my panic—hidden. I had to,
his hands nervously behind his back. you see. That’s the kind of guy I am.
The cover was green cloth—the color of
But when he turned around, it was always hope, some idiot’s voice burbled in my brain— But now, I was alone. I couldn’t even be
the wrong guy. and there in black letters was the title: The Life sure my tormentors heard my curses. I was a
of Robert Vincent. trillion miles from Earth and going nowhere
Sometimes it was Tony or Bosk or a girl in a metal-plastic coffin. I was just as dead as
I used to know. Sometimes it would be a lot I stood frozen, turning the thing over in my Vincent, only I hadn’t started to rot yet.
of people in succession. Sometimes it would hands, my skin shrinking up like I had grabbed
seem like the whole human race was there, something dead. After a moment, I flung the And now this.
and afterwards, I would be alone on a ghost book as hard as I could against one pearl-plas-
world. But sometimes—and this was the tic wall. It was like one last kick from society. A
worst—it would be me I saw, looking scared sort of good-bye present. Have fun, Reed, you
and sick and waiting like that, until I pressed “Damn you!” I yelled. “Damn you all! Damn scum. Sweet dreams.
the firing stud. the whole human race!”
I had a sudden vision of my own coming
I always woke up in a cold sweat after one But no one heard me, or if they did, there death. I would surely croak one day, right here
of the dreams, and reached out blindly for was no answer. I thought of my lawyer, court and alone. Probably I would be scared and in
someone who wasn’t there. Irene. She was this appointed, who had taken my case with the pain, and no one would even know. Later, the
woman once—only she liked someone else same shrinking revulsion I had felt when I ventilator would have to run harder for a while
better. Well, not really better, but we didn’t picked up the book. He was light years away and after that—well, only the dust would pile
agree about some stuff. by now. up. Centuries of dust, maybe. Millennia.
Anyway, she wasn’t there. Only Vincent “I hope you enjoy your goddamn joke,” I It occurred to me, as well, that maybe my
hung around, and he was no treat to wake up told my hypothetical listeners. I felt like a fool, prison wasn’t designed to last forever. Maybe
to when you’d just been dreaming you killed but I couldn’t stop. “I hope your sun goes nova! it would fall apart before I did.
the wrong guy. I hope it burns up the whole solar system!”
That one did it. I remember the walls tilted
No, I didn’t want to dream if I could help My voice didn’t echo, exactly—the walls up at some crazy angle and me yelling monster
it—and sometimes I didn’t. were too resilient for that. The words just rang movie stuff about being walled up alive. And
flat in my ears, helpless sounding and a little maybe Vincent came back then, and maybe he
And so the days—if that’s what they bit shrill. didn’t. And maybe he gibbered at me with his
were—went by. I had been out about four rigor mortis mouth, and maybe he didn’t do
weeks when I found the book. I still didn’t My eyes were drawn back to the book. It that either.
know where I was. Are you, in fact, anywhere lay now in a tangle of pages, the cover open
when you exceed the speed of light? So as I and leaning against one wall. That, at least, All I know is it was a long time later, and I
say, it had probably been four weeks my time was no holo. I had held it and felt its weight. was laying on the bed with a tender swelling
with just Vincent and me and the work assign- above one eye. My hands were sore too, like
I guess it was then everything hit me at I had been beating them on the walls—which
ments, when I found this book lying on the once. Through the trial, I had been the quint- I probably had—and there was no sign of
floor half under one of the consoles.

Vincent. esting.” brains pulping up between my fingers.

I dug out another smoke with shaking I decided to check out the contents as I With a muffled cry, I threw down the book
hands, wondering if I had knocked myself out made my way into the workroom. In a way, I was and saw it make a red splat-smear there at my
and if that was so, who had put me on the bed? bored—and then, too, there is still this morbid feet. I raised bloody hands to cover my eyes
I coughed on the smoke and put it out. Maybe streak in me. It was like when I wondered if the because I knew the walls were going all funny
in the end, I would be reduced to sucking my worms had got into Vincent yet. again.
thumb.
I held in my hand some kind of photo “I am utterly crazy,” I said aloud. It seemed
I started to chuckle at that and stopped album with minimal text. And, I decided, it like I was talking about someone else. “Okay,” I
myself. None of that, thank you. My mind didn’t look too interesting. Baby pictures, first told the empty room. “So you shook it all loose
skittered away from the immediate past, which birthday, first day of school, first communion— this time. So you’ve driven me stark, raving—”
was fine with me. I didn’t know what time it so Vincent was a kid once. Well, so was I, only
was or how long I had been out of things. Was nobody bothered with pictures. But I wasn’t raving. Not really. I went into
I supposed to be on duty now? And were they the lav and washed the blood off my hands.
going to cut off the air? I skipped ahead a bit and saw him graduate Real or not, that made me feel better.
from college. College, I thought sourly. This guy
This last thought propelled me to my feet got a degree so he could become a two-bit civil When I came out, the book was still a mess
and there, just by the wall where I had thrown servant and work his way up in the hierarchy. on the floor and I stepped over it, not looking
it, lay the Life of Robert Vincent. And all that so I could make hash out of his down. Yeah, I figured, it was time to get back
head. to work.
I just stood there, one hand gripping the
edge of the bed unit and the other extended He had brown eyes, same as me. I hadn’t And that is what I did.
in mid-air, groping, I guess, for the Nikstik I had noticed that when I shot him. We liked the You see? I’m a survivor. I knew there was
thrown away. same kind of music. Funny how I knew that. I an explanation for what had happened. So
could almost hear it. He met this girl once and
I’ve said before, I’m a survivor type. With science was a bit more advanced than I had
she—
the life I’ve had, both before and after I met Dr. thought—and society a lot more vindictive.
Ellis and Bosk and the others, I’ve had to be a Same as me. But me, I was a little bit tougher than
survivor. I bend. I bend a lot sometimes. But I
Angrily I flipped on back. I wanted to see they’d thought.
do not break.
him older, you know. I wanted to see him when I did look back once, and saw Vincent
Now it scared me maybe a little that I his cold-hearted self-interest had jelled. When watching me from the doorway with his dead
could have come unstuck the way I had. But he quit caring about anything but his career. pebble eyes and grinning his flaky grin. He was
only a little. I knew I would snap back the way When he had no more time for music and stuff definitely going downhill, four and a half weeks
I always had. like that. dead now, and he looked smaller than he had
So I picked up the Life of Robert Vincent Instead, I saw him coaching a kids’ baseball been. Maybe instead of falling apart, he was
and riffled through it, wondering if they really team. I saw his kids growing up. Then on about just going to shrivel up.
were watching me back on Earth. Were they page forty-six, the pictures ended and that I shrugged. Whatever those sadists back
laughing or turning away in disappointment? page was all torn up and blackened and it on Earth had done, it wasn’t his fault—brown
Or just saying things like, “Ah,” and “Very inter- oozed under my hand until I felt the blood and eyes and freckles, and he got a bike once for his

birthday—wasn’t his fault, I say. Not his fault and I meant it. “You poor stiff—” They made me care about stuff when it was
he was dead and disgusting— too late, and now this.
After that I found myself shaking with sobs
I’ve never been one much for sentiment and like I hadn’t done since—since never, I guess. I The guy looked at me funny, and then
that stuff. Oh, I once cared about “humanity.” wept for Vincent and his kids and me and Earth smiled a little, like he knew a joke, but he would
Why else had I been there in that basement and the screwed up way things had of turning share it with me. “Procyon IV,” he said. “Penal
with Dr. Ellis and the others? But humanity is out. And when I finally raised my head from colony. Didn’t they tell you?”
not the same thing as people. the console, I was alone again.
“No, man,” I said, only half taking it in.
Ellis had told me a lot about history and After that, there were no more tricks. Things “I’m dead, see. And you’re not real. I’ve seen
making a better world. I still thought President mellowed out, and I settled into my routine in Vincent.” I was uncomfortably aware that
Groff was a jerk. He had a private shuttle and a funny kind of half despair. I had nothing to my voice was rising out of control. “I’ve seen
his own place on the moon, and he got around live for, but I lived. Vincent had had a lot to Vincent and the book and all that blood!” I
all over the solar system. He’d seen it all first live for, and I mourned for him. It was a new nearly screamed. “But I never killed you, and
class, spurning the worn out soil of Earth with feeling caring about someone else—and not you’ve got no business busting in on my life!”
his well-made boots, leaving the rest of us too pleasant. I almost missed the holo, weird
behind to fight over the scraps his kind left. as it was, because at least it was company. His gaze became speculative. When he
What did Groff know about rats and stopped smiled again it wasn’t a nice smile at all. “I
up toilets and waiting in line for commodities? But Vincent did not return. think I understand,” he said. “Those creeps
What did he know about fear and loneliness didn’t tell you a thing. We’ve had a few others
The book was still there, though, and so come in that way.”
and hunger? I knew that it, at least, was real. In the end, I
And yet, an uncomfortable but fairly honest cleaned up the mess and shoved it all in the I only stared at him.
part of me observed, Dr. Ellis wore tailored recept. I was sorry, sure, but not that sorry. I
didn’t want to look at the pictures and blood “My name’s Nelson,” he said now, “and I
suits, and though he paid the rent on that
anymore. came here in a pod—the same way you did.
basement apartment he never slept there. Only I knew where I was going.”
Vincent had a bike once and brown eyes. And then, about a week after Vincent
stopped coming, another strange thing “Are you trying to say,” I asked him carefully,
Just like me only my bike was second hand and
happened. One of the blank screens in the holding onto my sanity with both hands, “that
probably stolen. And he went to college just
workroom came to life and some guy—not this whole thing was a put on? That all this—
like me only I had a scholarship and quit when
Vincent or anyone I recognized—a regular holograms and that book—that this—”
I met Dr. Ellis and Bosk and the others.
person with dark hair and a bent-up nose “I don’t know about holos,” Nelson said,
And he was a man once, just like me. Only looked out at me. “or that other stuff. We all have our thing—”
now he was dead and coming apart and he
“Welcome to Garrett’s world,” he said. For a moment his eyes clouded and slid away
wasn’t really out to get me. I knew that. He
“We’re bringing you in.” from mine. “Funny things happen on the way,”
just grinned that way because he was dead. It he finished lamely.
wasn’t his fault. “What the hell?” I croaked. “Is this another
of your sick jokes?” I had to restrain myself “What do you mean?” I snarled.
It was mine.
from actually putting a fist through the screen. He managed a shrug. “You’re Joseph Reed,
“I’m sorry I shot you, Vincent,” I told him Hadn’t they done enough to mess up my mind? pod number 4693,” he said. “Right?”

I nodded cautiously. “That’s my name the green-blue arch of cloudless sky. and full of promise hid just an eye blink behind
anyway.” the scene before me.
“Remember, you’re not the first, Reed,”
“Okay. You’re ours now. You live here. First he told me quietly. “The nightmare is over. But of course, the real difference wasn’t in
they sent robo ships, and now, they send us. And whatever the reason you came here—” the scenery. It was in me. I had shed a whole
But no one else has the guts to follow. The He stumbled a bit over this part. “Well, I think load of hate somewhere between here and
whole place is ours—” you’ll do okay. Everyone does.” Earth, and it felt pretty good. If I had only
known!
I only gaped at him. It was still too much. “They said—” I began and stopped. I was
still a step behind, and I couldn’t seem to Ultralight drive, I thought as I walked beside
“Ultralight drive,” he said now. “It’s still in catch up with what was happening. I knew just Nelson over the fields. Yeah, it was weird, all
the experimental stages, you know.” enough to keep quiet about Vincent, but I had right. I reached in my pocket and let my fingers
to ask him again about the holos. I had to! slide over the ragged edges of the photo I had
I lit a smoke and put it out immediately. torn from the Life of Robert Vincent. I didn’t
Habit. “I was really going somewhere all the “No,” he told me. “They don’t have that have to look. I knew it showed a kid with brown
time,” I whispered wonderingly. But the words kind of technology. It was the light drive, is eyes. A kid with a new bike—
didn’t mean anything. all. It does funny things to—to the way we see
things.” I don’t think I’ll show it to anyone. But I’m
“It’s our world here, I tell you,” he said. still sorry, Vincent. I don’t believe that crap
“Ours! And—” Here the smile came back a “They should have said something,” I about the effects of ultralight, though
little warmer. “It’s not such a bad life. This protested, squinting against the light. “Warned
isn’t a real prison, you know. It’s a colony with me.” And I don’t think Nelson does either.
women and now a few children.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “They usually do at least
He signed off then and left me to think tell about the colony. They must,” he said
about everything. I sat down before the math slowly, not looking at me, “have been a real
console and leaned my head on the cool grey hard-ass crew.”
plastic. So they wanted me to think I was
reprieved. And I did believe it. Silently cursing I didn’t say anything, but it occurred to me Colleen Drippe’
my folly, I still believed. that maybe I had been a real hard-ass murderer.
Maybe that’s why I got special treatment.
Somehow, I must have fallen asleep there Colleen Drippe’ is author of many
in the chair—or else they knocked me out. And then, we paused while I gazed my fill science fiction, fantasy, and even horror
Anyway, when I woke, the sun was shining. at the woods and fields and cabins, knowing I stories. She is also editor of HEREDITAS
would never see things quite this way again.
Oh, it was the wrong color, of course, This was a good place, fresh and new. It was MAGAZINE, sponsored by Regina Coeli
and the sky was greenish. But it was morning better than Earth as it was now—at least for Online Academy.
outside, and my pod had come open. Nelson me.
helped me to my feet, and we staggered
outside. I found I was picking up on all sorts of things
I had never seen before. It was as though some
I let my gaze travel from his face to the kind of meaning—something larger than life
woods—some kind of conifers—and then to

Featured Artist: Euka Pg. 20
Featured Artist
Eduardo Lopez Mustaros
Name:
Eduardo Lopez Mustaros
Age:
37
Hobbies:
Digital Art
Favorite Book / Author:
One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
When did you start creating art?
I have always tried in one form or another.
What media do you work in?
I have worked in traditional media, not exclusively in digital.

Featured Artist: Eduardo Lopez Mustaros Pg. 21
Where your work has been featured?

Only inside deviantART
Where should someone go if they wanted to view / buy some of your
works?
My deviantART prints page
How did you become an artist?
I have been a photographer all my life. From there, the natural flow of
things, from film to digital. Digital equals computer digital manipulation,
so here we are.
What were your early influences?
Nature has always inspired me. Besides that, Roger Dean and Dylan Cole
What are your current influences?
Good friends at DA.
What inspired the art for the cover?
Proelium was done for an art pack in a group called Terraspace on
deviantART. I wanted to depict more than a war—an invasion, the first
stages of our elimination.
How would you describe your work?
My vision
Where do you get your inspiration / what inspires you?
Everything
Have you had any notable failures, and how has failure affected your
work?
No, I don’t think failure on a big scale has affected me.

Featured Artist: Eduardo Lopez Mustaros Pg. 22
What have been your greatest successes? How has success impacted you / your work?
My success has been my family and my work, and it’s what gives me free time and peace of mind to enjoy my digital art.
What are your favorite tools / equipment for producing your art?
A fast computer, a big screen, a trackball, and a Wacom tablet.
What tool / equipment do you wish you had?
An eight core 3GHz Mac Pro and a thirty inch screen.
What do you hope to accomplish with your art?
Inspiring images.

Hot Off the Press by Ty Johnston Pg. 23
Hot Off the Press

by Ty Johnston
R oger Madock
newspaper.
screamed into the “Oh, hey, Don. I was about to call you,”
Roger said, glancing at Dorothy with a here-
I-go-having-to-apologize-for-someone-else’s-
his desk. “Okay, who walked?”
The sheriff made a choking sound. “That
Dorothy looked over from her desk. mistake look. punk Taylor is out,” he said with distaste, “and
“What’d they get wrong this time?” she asked, Tim Rawlins is out, too.”
cup of coffee halfway to her lips. “You were about to call me?” the sheriff
Roger wrote down the names, then, “Hey,
“Copy editors!” Roger yelled. “They you mean Mark Rawlins.”
changed a guy’s name again. It’s supposed to He found them filed in the “Nope, I mean Tim Rawlins,” the sheriff
be Mark Rawlins, not Tim Rawlins!”
bottom left drawer. Roger said. “Look, I gotta go now. There’s a mess of
Dorothy sipped her coffee and leaned back
in her chair. “You better tell the managing
yanked out the folder the paper work still to be finished on this one. Call
me tomorrow morning if you got any more
editor about it,” she said with a smirk. “If you papers were in and began questions, okay?”
don’t let them know, then...” scanning them. “Sure, sure,” Roger said as he hung up the
“Yeah, yeah,” Roger said, wadding the phone and put down the pen and notebook.
newspaper into a ball and dropping it into the The third page was a
trash can beneath his desk. He loosened the
tie around his neck and bent over, elbows on
copy of a warrant for the He felt dazed for a moment. He was sure the
guy arrested had been named Mark Rawlins.
his knees. “It just steams me, you know? We arrest of Tim Rawlins. It wasn’t like him to make a mistake like that.
go to all this trouble to get the facts right, and He’d been a reporter for eight years.
then they butcher our copy.” “You okay?” Dorothy asked, seeing the
“Know what you mean,” Dorothy said. “Last weird look in Roger’s eyes.
week they changed the sex of a source in one asked. “What for? You got some more “Yeah, sure,” he said, looking up with a
of my stories. The Republican party chairman questions?” smile. “Just a long day, I suppose.”
didn’t like being called a ‘she’ one bit. Not my
fault his name is—” “Not yet,” Roger said, “Did you see today’s Dorothy stood and patted him on the back.
story?” “Go home and get yourself a beer,” she said as
Roger’s phone rang.
“Nope,” the sheriff said. “Listen, I’ve got to she turned to leave for the night.
He picked up the receiver and said, “Roger go quick. I just was calling to let you know that “You bet,” Roger said.
Madock, Monitor newsroom.” a couple of the guys walked. Their attorneys
got them out on bail.” When Dorothy was gone, Roger reached for
“Hey, Roger, this is Sheriff Gable,” the voice several of the notebooks that were on his desk.
on the line said. Roger instantly reverted back to being a He flipped through several of them looking for
reporter and grabbed a pen and notebook off

the name of the arrested man. He tore open the envelope expecting the one-way radio the newspaper had supplied
another rejection slip. He had been writing him.
Failing there, he looked inside his desk for short fiction for several years and had yet to
a copy of the police reports he’d picked up sell a story to a magazine. He was surprised to “We got an officer down. Repeat, officer
earlier in the day. find inside the envelope a letter asking permis- down,” the radio squawked.
sion to publish the story.
He found them filed in the bottom left Roger sped out of the parking lot.
drawer. Roger yanked out the folder the papers “Well, I’ll be,” Roger said to himself. He
were in and began scanning them. When he got to the scene, there were four
would have laughed if he could have seen the police cruisers surrounding the front of an
silly grin on his face.
The third page was a copy of a warrant for apartment building.
the arrest of Tim Rawlins. He wasted no time getting out his type- “You missed all the action,” Sheriff Gable
writer and writing a letter giving the editors of
“Aw, crap,” Roger said. He must have made said as Roger walked up to him, notebook and
Nouveau Fantasy permission to run the tale.
a mistake, and the copy desk caught it. Things pen already in hand.
The magazine didn’t pay anything, but Roger
would be cool tonight because it was late, but was just glad he was going to have a short story “What happened?” Roger asked.
tomorrow he was sure he would catch grief in print.
from the managing editor. “Aw, some junkie lost it and started shooting
“Maybe all those years are going to pay up the place,” the sheriff said. “He killed one
“Call it a night,” Roger said to himself as off,” he said as he pulled the typed letter out guy and wounded an officer. The idiot tried
he stood and took his jacket off the coat rack. of the machine and put it in a new envelope. to hole up in his apartment, but he ran out of
“You can’t win them all.”
bullets while trying to get inside. His wife had
After that, he wandered off to bed,
# locked him out. A couple of the boys tackled
wondering how long it would be before him down and ‘cuffed him.
“Attackers from Mars” was published.
Entering his apartment, Roger stopped in “Look, you can get all the information
the entrance hall long enough to scan over the # back at the station. I should be getting to the
day’s mail. Most of it was junk mail or bills, but hospital. The guy isn’t doing too good. He
there was one interesting-looking envelope The managing editor stuck his head out his might not make it.”
from Nouveau Fantasy magazine. office door. “Roger!”
“Yeah, sure,” Roger said, still writing, “but
Roger dropped his coat on the floor, set Roger looked up from his desk where he which officer got shot?”
his keys on the coffee table and fell back in his was busy typing in the police log.
reclining chair. He had sent a short story off to “It was one of the city boys,” the sheriff
the magazine several months back. The tale “We got a code 187 at 2112 Pliath Avenue,” said. “I think his name is Leon Brown.”
hadn’t been anything great, a piece of science the managing editor said.
fiction he had titled “Attackers from Mars,” #
but it had been fun to write. Roger had hoped Roger grabbed two notebooks and a
the piece would also be fun to read, especially handful of pens and headed for the exit. Code Five minutes after midnight.
since it poked fun at the low-grade B movies 187 was a murder.
from the fifties. Roger typed faster and faster. Deadline was
When he started his car he also turned on less than a half hour away.

The officer shot, Leon Brown, was still alive, “Hey, you want to go for a coffee to Hospital,” a woman’s voice said on the televi-
according to the last person Roger had talked celebrate?” Dorothy asked. “I know a great sion, while pictures of police officers surround-
with at the hospital. Brown was doing well; he place on Sixth. They’re open all night and have ing the apartment building moved across the
was expected to survive the night, at least. the best java around.” screen. “He was shot today in a gun battle on
Pliath—”
“You got that story?” the managing editor Roger thought it over for a moment. Today
said with a testy voice over Roger’s shoulder. had been a good day for him, at least as good “What’s going on?” Dorothy asked, stepping
as a day can get when you’re a crime reporter. up behind Roger.
“Hold on, hold on,” Roger said, typing in He deserved a little relaxation, and Dorothy
two more lines. Then, “There. It’s yours.” was a nice lady. “Sure. I’m up for it.” “I’ve got to get back to the paper,” he said,
setting the paper coffee cup on the counter.
The managing editor turned toward one of “The shot cop just died, and my story says he’s
the copy editors. “Get it ready, we’re on the #
still alive.”
clock,” he said gruffly, then went to his office.
During the hustle and bustle of the day, Before returning to the newspaper, Roger
Roger eased back in his seat and smiled. Roger had forgotten about the mistake with stopped at a pay phone to call Wayne County
It was a good story. He knew that. The quotes the name in yesterday’s story. Over coffee, Hospital.
from the shooter’s wife were some of the best Dorothy asked him about it.
he had gotten in a while. “Officer Brown died shortly after midnight,”
“You know, now that I think about it, none Dr. Margaret Clancy said to him over the
“So, how’s it going, sport?” Dorothy said of the editors said a thing,” Roger said. phone.
from her desk as she closed her computer
down for the night. “That’s weird,” Dorothy said, taking a sip
of espresso, “usually they’re all over us about #
Roger glanced over at her. “Not bad at all,” stuff like that.”
he said, still smiling. “I’ve got a great story for “No!” the managing editor yelled at Roger.
tomorrow.” From the booth they were sitting in, Roger
could see an old television sitting on the coffee “I can have it typed in five minutes,” Roger
“The shooting on Pliath?” she said. shop’s counter. The sound was turned down, said to his red-faced boss.
but Roger still recognized the apartment
“Yeah, that’s the one,” he said, leaning “No, no, no,” the managing editor said.
building on Pliath Avenue.
back in the chair and putting his feet on the “It’s already past two in the morning. The last
desk. “Hey, did I tell you I sold one of my short “Hey, hold on a second,” Roger said, edition is on the presses now. We can run a
stories?” standing and walking toward the television. correction tomorrow.”
Dorothy looked up, almost laughing. “Do you mind if I turn it up?” he asked the “We’re going to look like idiots,” Roger said.
“It’s about time. I knew you had the knack. waitress behind the counter. “The radio and television have got this story
Somebody had to publish you sooner or later.” already, a full twenty-four hours ahead of us.
She nodded and he twisted the volume At least let me write up two inches to throw in
“Yeah, it finally happened. I sent them knob. someplace.”
a return letter today,” Roger said, closing his
eyes. “Officer Brown died less than ten minutes The managing editor huffed. “We’re past
ago, according to sources at Wayne County deadline. Way past deadline.”

Roger stood there frustrated. The managing editor looked even more coffee shop to come back to the paper?” Roger
confused. “What are you talking about?” asked.
His boss turned and walked away.
“Last night,” Roger said. Dorothy stared off into space for a few
# moments, as if she were trying to remember
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” something with difficulty. Finally, “No,” she
the boss said. “I don’t remember anything said, “you walked me home after we left the
The next day Roger stormed into the office, about anyone wanting to stop the presses.” shop.”
nearly knocking over a trashcan and bumping
into the publisher on his way. Roger’s anger died, replaced with his own Roger shook his head and backed toward
confusion. “What do you mean you don’t his own seat at his desk.
He was still furious. He would look like a remember?” he said loudly. “We were right
fool to the other reporters and to his sources, here in the office arguing about it. You said the “What’s wrong, Roger?” Dorothy said, the
not to mention what some of the management late edition was already on the presses and concerned look spreading from her eyes to the
would think. Also, it was part of the business. you weren’t stopping.” rest of her face. “You’re acting funny.”
Journalism ran in Roger Madock’s veins. He, like
any other reporter, didn’t like the idea of being The managing editor tilted his head and “I don’t know,” Roger said. “Something
the last one to get a story. The rush of getting squinted one eye. “You sure you feel all right, weird is happening. The boss asked me to check
the scoop on the competition was enough to Madock?” on the cop who had been shot, but I could’ve
keep a reporter high for days, or at least until sworn...”
the next major story erupted. Roger stood there with a blank look, and
his arms hanging at his side. “Have you checked?” Dorothy asked.
Roger grew even angrier when his boss
stuck his head out his office door and said, “Maybe you should take the rest of the day Roger looked up, into her eyes. “You don’t
“Roger, you gonna give me an update on the off,” the boss suggested. remember?” he asked.
shot cop?”
Roger shook his head. “No, I’ll be okay,” he “Remember what?”
It was almost more than Roger could stand. said, wondering what was going on.
Pictures of violence went through his head, “We saw it on the TV at the coffee shop,”
but he gritted his teeth and said, “What do you When Dorothy entered the office, Roger Roger said. “The cop, he died at the hospital.”
want? He’s still dead.” cornered her at her desk.
Dorothy screwed her face up. “I remember
The managing editor stood there with a “Do you remember anything odd about last seeing the story on the TV, but I thought they
confused look on his face. “What do you mean, night?” he asked bluntly. said he was still alive.”
‘he’s still dead?’ Your story in today’s paper Dorothy dropped her purse in the bottom Roger called the hospital again.
says he’s still alive.” drawer of her desk and sat in her chair, flicking
the switch on her computer while doing so. “Can I speak with a Dr. Margaret Clancy,
Roger’s teeth ground together even harder.
“No, not really,” she said, smiling, but with a please?” he asked the receptionist.
He was sure he tasted blood. “Of course my
story says that,” he said, wanting to add you concerned look in her eyes. “Did something Seconds later the doctor was on the line.
stupid idiot, “that’s because you wouldn’t let happen?”
me stop the presses last night.” “How may I help you, Mr. Madock?” she
“Do you remember me leaving you at the asked.

“Hello, Doctor,” Roger said, trying to sound Something was going on. Either there was weren’t changing until his story was actually
polite and not frazzled. “I’m calling to check on some complicated plot to discredit him, or he published. He could write all he wanted and
Officer Brown. He’s still in your care, isn’t he? was going crazy. nothing would change, but the moment that
story was published, bam!
“Oh yes,” the doctor said. “He’s coming It was almost as if he were making up the
along quite fine, really. It’s something of a future, writing something that could change Roger decided to try another experiment.
miracle. We didn’t expect him to make it what actually did happen. This was too interesting an opportunity to pass
through the night.” by.
Roger thought that one over for a minute.
Later that night, after leaving work, Roger He wrote a short story, only a few para-
poured himself a triple shot of whiskey and It couldn’t be, could it? graphs, about his co-worker Dorothy. In the
plopped into his reclining chair. story Dorothy was head-over-heals in love with
He took another drink of whiskey, a long him.
For the second day in a row a story of his one.
had been published with an error. Later, Roger Roger thought it was possible he might have
There’s only one way to find out, he thought
had found out there wasn’t an error, that what gone insane, but he knew he wasn’t stupid.
before falling asleep in the chair.
he had written had been true. There was no way he would be able to get this
little story past the editors and into the paper.
How was that? How did it happen? He had #
been so sure the man arrested two days ago Late that night, after most of the reporters
had been Mark Rawlins, not Tim. Then the It worked. and many of the editors had gone home, Roger
story had come out saying Tim Rawlins had snuck into the composing room, where the
been arrested. Roger had checked his facts and Sheriff Gable called Roger to ask if he actual newspaper was put together.
found out that, yes, the man was named Tim wanted to come along on a drug bust. Roger
Rawlins. went along. The bust happened at 71 West The composing crew was on their lunch
Main Street. break and wouldn’t be back for another fifteen
Then there was the deal with the shot minutes.
policeman. Roger knew the man had been In his story, Roger intentionally changed
dead, or at least the doctor had told him the the address to 992 Rosewell Street. Roger ran the small piece of paper through
man was dead and the television crew had the wax machine, which used the wax to hold
The next day Roger drove by 992 Rosewell the stories and photos on the unprinted page,
reported the man was dead. Roger’s story Street. The place was covered with yellow then placed the story at the bottom of an inside
had come out saying the man was alive, and police tape. To be sure, Roger called the sheriff. page in the D section.
Mother of Us All, the man was still alive, doing Gable told Roger the bust had happened at 992
quite well, in fact. Rosewell Street. Now all he had to do was wait.
The liquor slowly coursed its way through Roger didn’t know how it was happening, #
Roger’s blood and into his skull. A little of but he was actually changing events after they
the whiskey would help him to keep his mind occurred. It seemed that whatever he wrote
clear, he thought, but a lot would make things “Are you doing anything tonight?” Dorothy
and got published was coming true.
messier. asked.
He had done some quick checking with the
He took another drink anyway. Roger looked up from his desk. His grin was
drug bust story and figured out that events

so wide it looked as if it would split his face burst into his apartment. “Yeah, sure,” the voice said.
in two. “No, I’m not busy,” he said. “You have
anything special in mind?” “Where’s that letter?” he asked frantically “I’m Roger Madock. You bought a story of
as he pulled out drawer after drawer, seeking. mine. Has it been published yet?”
“Well, I was thinking we could go to that
coffee shop again,” Dorothy said, acting bashful Papers went flying, drawers clattered to the There was silence on the other end as Roger
for the first time in Roger’s knowledge. ground. A box of staples fell and burst open. thought he heard a humming noise coming
from outside.
“Sure, that’s swell,” Roger said, thinking he “Where? Where? Where?” Roger
would have to slip in a story that said he had screamed. “Uh, yeah, it came out yesterday,” the
won the lottery, which it seemed he had. voice said. “You okay, mister? You sound kinda
It wasn’t in the front room. messed up.”
They sat at the same booth they had sat at The kitchen. Maybe he had put it in the The humming sound was growing louder
before, each with a warm mug in hand. kitchen. and louder. Roger looked out his kitchen
“You’ve been pretty chipper the last day or windows.
Roger opened more drawers and cupboards,
so,” Dorothy said, smiling over her espresso. anxiously seeking the letter that had the phone “Sure,” Roger said softly. “I’m fine.”
Roger leaned back in the seat, trying to number he needed.
appear aloof and macho at the same time. “I’ve He hung up the phone as he watched the
Finally, he found it. The letter was sitting giant flying saucer hovering in front of his
been doing okay,” he said, “things are finally where he had last left it, in the middle of the window, the barrel of some sort of ray gun
starting to go my way.” kitchen table. pointed directly at him.
“Oh, did you get another story published?” Roger hurriedly dialed the number printed
Dorothy asked. on the letter.
“What?” “Somebody be there,” he said, “please,
“Did you get another short story anybody.”
published?” Ty Johnston
The phone rang nine times before the line
Roger sprang out of the booth. was picked up.
After twenty years of fiddling around
“I’m sorry, Dorothy,” he said, backing “Um, yeah, can I help you?” a young male with a short story here, a short story
toward the shop’s door. “I’ve really got to get voice said. there, Ty Johnston decided it was time
home. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” to get serious about his fiction. He is
“Is this Nouveau Fantasy magazine?” Roger
Dorothy looked hurt and confused, but all blurted into the phone. currently finishing a trilogy of fantasy
she could say was, “Okay, sure.” novels, sometimes working on a screen-
“Man, it’s awful late to be calling me,” the
On the street, Roger walked faster and voice said. play or two, pumping out more short
faster, almost running. stories and working on a serial fiction
“Forget that!” Roger yelled. “Is this Nouveau
Fantasy?” blog at swordofbayne.blogspot.com.
He didn’t bother to shut the door when he

Deuces Wild, Chapter 13: “Full Circle” by L. S. King Pg. 29
Deuces Wild
Chapter 13: “Full Circle”
by L. S. King
The Confeds have been defeated and are “Among other things.” Carter grinned Tristan scratched his head, smoothed his
beginning their retreat from Eridani Prime. Slap and looked over at Slap. The cowboy smiled hair, and then rubbed his temple. “We could
and Tristan are aboard their ship, along with absently, but his preoccupied frown quickly force shield the cargo bay into sections and
the engineer Carter and Slap’s horse, Príncipe, returned. open the fore hatch...”
and are ready to leave the planet.
“And you know this core is still intact?” “My thought exactly!” Carter’s eyes glinted.
“P ríncipe is settled in,” Slap said from

the doorway of the bridge. Tristan
nodded without looking up as he checked
“Yes, Sir. Er, well, most likely. I mean, it should
have survived because they’re hardwired to
“I could rig up some of the cargo nets and
straps into a catcher net. We’d open the fore
cargo hatch, carefully fly over the core, giving
systems for take-off. eject. The beacon is working anyway.” the impression that Giselle is ‘eating’ it. The
net catches and pads the core while the hatch
Slap greeted Carter, then asked, “Do you Tristan eyed the displays, his mind calculat- closes. We recompress the cargo bay and take
really think Príncipe will be safe?” ing the thought of the several million stellars off.”
the core was worth against the chance of
“Our cargo bay isn’t meant to hold horses,” getting it out of a debris field and escaping “Now, wait, Príncipe is in the cargo bay,”
Tristan said, “but as long as we have artificial intact. Slap said, leaning closer.
gravity and inertial dampers, he should be fine.
You have him tied up?” “With their communications screwed,” “Put him aft,” Tristan said.
Carter said, “they can’t pick up the core’s
“Tethered, yeah.” beacon. We could slip in and grab it and get “He is aft.”
out.”
After a silence, Carter cleared his throat. “Then what’s the problem?”
“Sir, I know we’re going to need repairs, and “While ducking fire from how many
they’re going to be expensive. If you don’t ships?” “If something goes wrong—”
mind a detour, I know a way you could pick up
“I’m...not certain. There are ships still in “If that force shield fails, it’ll decompress
a little money on the black market.”
orbit to escort the carrier.” the whole ship.”
Tristan’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
“And where is this core in relation to the “Except the bridge and crew quarters,”
“That first carrier that blew up? Its surviving carrier?” Carter put in. “And galley, and—”
computer core is out there. I, uh, disrupted
Carter pulled up a display and pointed. “The Tristan glared at the engineer who squeaked
efforts to salvage it, and to my knowledge it’s
carrier is here. The core is over on the other to a halt.
still floating around up there.”
side of the planet, with probably only shuttles “The point is,” Tristan said, looking Slap in
“Disrupted efforts, hein?” Tristan turned to near it, if any of them are still trying to salvage the eye, “that force shield is safe. Your horse
regard Carter. “Communications again?” the core—which they’d be doing blind.” will be fine unless the ship is blown up. In

which case you won’t be worrying about him “Yeah,” came the cowboy’s voice after “Close.”
anyway.” a moment. “We’re ready. Take it easy. He’s
flighty.” “Then go for it. If they’re carrying torpedoes,
Slap frowned but didn’t say anything our turrets should take care of them.”
more. By all means, I must consider the sensibili-
ties of a horse. Tristan took a deep breath and “I know that. But if they have missiles
“How long will it take to rig a net?” Tristan lifted off. loaded instead?”
asked.
With Carter’s help, he had a map of where “Uh....then we might have trouble.”
Carter pursed his lips. “Not long. If Slap the Confeds were. Hopefully, they could get
helps, it won’t take any time at all.” “You have a propensity for understate-
into orbit and near the core without intercept- ment.” Giselle’s armor was in tatters from that
ing any ships. The salvage shuttles had limited
Tristan gazed at Slap. The cowboy re-entry. One missile and they would be merely
weapons and range and were no match for
shrugged. more scattered debris around Eridani.
Giselle.
“Go to it, then. Let me know when you’re “Don’t forget about Príncipe,” Slap’s voice
The beacon was still active. Tristan set a
ready.” interrupted. “He’s—”
course for it, frowning at Giselle’s sluggish
response. Maneuvering in the debris field was “Keep quiet—this will likely get sticky,”
# going to be difficult, not to mention lining up Tristan snapped. He slowed more, using both
to retrieve the core. instruments and sight to align to the core.
Slap leaned over Tristan’s shoulder as they “Carter, you’re secured?”
prepared to take off. His expectations weren’t off. But fortunate-
ly, the core wasn’t in too difficult a position. “Affirmative, Sir.”
“Strap in.” But before he could align with the core, blips
appeared on his screen. “Carter, we have “Force shield is in place,” Tristan said for the
The cowboy shook his head. “I’m going to company.” cowboy’s sake. “Decompressing...” He watched
stay with Príncipe and try to keep him calm.” the read-out, waiting, then said, “Opening fore
“What are they? Shuttles?” hatch door.”
Tristan hesitated. “There’s no place to strap
in down there.” “Interceptors. Looks like Boomerangs.” Tristan nudged Giselle ahead with a tap
“If it’s safe enough for him, it’s safe enough on the thrusters. The core disappeared under
“Whoops. Four?”
for me.” Slap strode out. the ship. It was all instruments now. Several
“Yes.” chooms echoed through the hull—another sign
Tristan sighed and checked the instruments of Giselle’s damage; they wouldn’t normally
one last time. He hit the comm. “Ready, Carter?” “Wedge formation?” hear anything—and the subsequent whine
The engineer was suited up and secured to a from the capacitors told Tristan the turrets
strap-down point in the fore cargo bay. “Got it in one.” were firing at the same time he saw it on the
panel. “We’re under attack.”
“Yes, Sir.” “Then they don’t know what you are. They’d
use a starburst attack or claw strike formation “Almost got it, Captain.”
“Are you in the cargo bay, Slap?” if they had any idea of your armament. How
close are we to the core?” “Get a move on, Carter.”

“Almost there...” the jump, or did he just kill Slap and Carter? “I screwed up.” He jerked a thumb over his
shoulder at the computer core. “Maybe I can
The ships were spiraling around Giselle like Jump completed, Tristan checked status of make it up to him with this. I better get to
vultures. A new blip appeared on his screen. the cargo bay. Intact—hatch and all. He lowered work.”
Tristan looked out to see another interceptor the force shields and bolted out of the bridge
approaching, arcing to a position in front of the like hell’s fury. He grabbed the side rail of the Slap nodded and returned to Príncipe. He
cargo ship. It began to maneuver to face the ladder and slid down it like a pole, surprising couldn’t just keep him tethered; he had to
cargo ship for a nose-to-nose confrontation. Its Slap who stood at the horse’s head, talking corral him somehow. He didn’t think Tristan
pilot was no fool; he was in the ship’s center- to the stupid creature. Tristan’s leg throbbed would like it if the horse decided to walk all
line—the one small dead spot for the turrets. from the landing, but he was too enraged to over his exercise equipment, or worse, leave a
Tristan could see the pilot grin malevolently care. He stormed forward, teeth clenched, and present. He thought a moment—the cargo nets
through the clear canopy of the cockpit. Intimi- grabbed Carter by the neck. “Why aren’t the and straps; they could serve as fencing. But
dation? Some sort of psychological warfare? particle beams working?” he’d also need something to use as a trough.
And to put the feed in. He scratched his head.
These interceptors carried their weapons “I had to use the power taps on the jump
externally—this one was not carrying mere capacitor chargers,” the engineer squeaked. “It
torpedoes! Tristan’s insides turned to jelly. The was the only way to get one working.”
pilot lifted a gloved, splayed hand and pulled in
his thumb... What was he doing? First finger... “One?” #
Counting down! “We’ve only got the one capacitor right Tristan closed the access panel and sighed.
Tristan activated the controls for the newly now.” What a mess. Was there one system on the
installed particle beams and his breath caught ship not affected by his insane rescue flight?
“You should have told me. I nearly killed
as a red light blinked—disabled. Why are the He rubbed his forehead. What he needed was
us trying to face off an interceptor carrying
particle beams offline? a drink. A hot tisane would be perfect. And,
missiles!”
surely, if any place on the ship was intact, it
Second finger. Carter’s face blanched. “That’s why you was the galley.
—No time! Tristan hit the switches to raise jumped with the door barely shut! I—I’m
sorry.” He started across the cargo bay and
a force shield across the open bay access and stopped dead. That horse was drinking water
close the hatch at the same time. Third finger.... Tristan released Carter with a shove and out of—a piece of protective casing for one of
Six seconds to close the door! walked away. the particle beam cannons! With a growl, he
“Carter—we’re leaving now!” scrambled up the ladder. He hit the chime on
# Slap’s door and heard a muffled, “Yeah?”
Fourth finger.
He entered and halted as he heard Slap
Slap murmured to Príncipe to reassure him
Ignoring Carter’s questioning voice, he mumbling in a drone. The cowboy was reading
as Tristan climbed the ladder. When the stal-
activated the jump drive. something from his console, but Tristan could
lion’s ears quit flicking back, he ambled over to only make out bits and pieces of it. The slump
As the jump whirled in his brain and body, Carter. “Don’t let his bark bother you.” of Slap’s shoulders drained his ire over the
Tristan closed his eyes in horror. Had the force casing. Whatever happened to Slap on Eridani
Carter gave him a small, edged smile.
shield held against the negative energy field of

had defeated him. He was withdrawn, barely The cowboy leaned back in the chair and A quick examination found the problem.
talking, and then, mostly to the horse. Tristan shook his head. “But I don’t have the proper Carter had purloined power taps again. This
had failed him. He should have gotten there documentation from the ‘exporting planet.’ was the end—if a man couldn’t even have a
sooner, found him sooner... I’m roped and tied tighter’n a calf at brandin’ hot drink! He strode out of the galley in search
time.” of the engineer, but slowed. No, Carter was
He took a breath to chase away his guilt only doing what was necessary; several non-
and stepped closer to listen. Tristan sat on the edge of the desk. “Do you essential systems or equipment were out of
have any options?” commission for now. He would find out from
“...livestock cannot enter Three Systems Carter what power taps could be borrowed
without a Permit to Import....Guild & Merchant “Nope. I don’t have a bill of sale, even.” temporarily. He would have his tisane!
Ordinance #453A requires...health standards Slap spun and looked up at Tristan plaintively.
necessitate....vaccinations and veterinary certi- “I didn’t steal him! The priests who were
fication...subject to quarantine for a minimum supposed to take care of him couldn’t get close. #
of...valid certificates issued by the exporting They’d moved him once to a safer place, but
planet’s government declaring...” Slap dropped he’d gotten so riled by the noise and fighting Slap kicked the covers off, draped an arm
his head into his hands and groaned. nearby they couldn’t catch him to move him across his eyes, and tried again to fall asleep.
again. Things were getting so dangerous, and Eridani was past; Nadi was dead. He was safely
“What is it?” Tristan asked. they asked me to take him. The one said, the back on ol’ Bertha, and he had Príncipe. He was
emperor is dead, a god should have him. I going home soon. So why couldn’t he sleep?
“I’m trying to make sure Príncipe is safe to didn’t argue.”
take to Zenos, for his sake, and the planet’s.” Yeah, he’d had a bad time, but not as bad
Tristan nodded. “We’ll find a way to get as losing Shallah and Evan and Ol’ Pa. Except...
Tristan nodded. The Separatists were memories flooded his mind, and shame rose.
him home for you. But—” he glared at Slap.
sticklers for environmental safety. He should He fought down the bile, but it won. He made
“You cannot use the protective casing of the
have realized Slap wouldn’t just take the horse it to the head just in time, and despite the
particle beam cannons for the horse’s food and
home without going through the precautions facilities not being created to handle vomit as
water.”
necessary. Diseases, parasites—who knew such, they did an adequate job.
what pathogens the horse might bring to the Slap’s mouth fell open. “Er, oh. Is that what
planet, or what on Zenos might affect the that is?” When his stomach finally stopped heaving,
stallion either. he stayed still for a long time, shivering.
Tristan had the urge to slap his forehead.
“I take it the bureaucracy is overwhelm- “Just find something else. Ask Carter or me He longed for a wet cloth to wipe his
ing?” if you aren’t sure.” He let the door close and face. He stumbled to the galley, thankfully
crossed to the galley. Tisane—he’d had a small not running into either Tristan or Carter, and
“Even normally it’s hard. The washed his face with cool water.
supply left. Hopefully Carter didn’t like herbal
Guilds’n’Merchants try to make it hard on us. infusions.
Several of us went in together to import a bull. Slap then descended to the cargo bay and
I paid half, and two others paid a fourth each He set the kettle on the induction hob and made sure Príncipe was all right. He rubbed
of the costs. I got to keep him, but they had hit the switch. Tisane must be made the old- between the stallion’s eyes with his knuckles.
rights to him every year. Plus we made money fashioned way. He measured the herbs into “We’re going home soon, boy,” he murmured.
hiring him out.” Slap grinned briefly. “Petty was a pot and glanced at the hob. Frowning, he “You’ll like it. We’ll be better then.”
a busy bull.” gingerly touched the kettle. Cold. What—?

He leaned into Príncipe, pressing his face sipped his tisane, then added, “Unless it’s con- “Yes, Sir. For the necessary repairs, anyway.
into the horse’s neck, and inhaling deeply. The venient or advantageous.” A refit would take too long with Príncipe to
smell of horse. The smell of home. consider. He’s going to get restless in such a
Carter opened his mouth but stopped and confined space.”
# closed it again, looking pensive.
Tristan sipped the tisane and said nothing—
Slap shook his head. “I’d think folks would back to the horse and its sensibilities again.
Tristan brought his steaming cup into the want the truth.”
lounge and sat with Slap and Carter. Slap’s “But you could get the hull and armor
eyes still seemed haunted. He wasn’t eating, Tristan set his cup down into a retaining slot done, plus that landing strut, and uh,” Carter
just pushing the food around the plate with his and flipped the cap shut. Drink bulbs would be cleared his throat with a nervous glance at
fork. Tristan fought down his sense of guilt and easier; he’d have to pick up some. He met Slap’s Tristan’s cup, “get the parts to get the power
asked, “So, Carter, where do you suggest we go eyes. “Pardon me for repeating a famous—or grid working.”
for repairs?” infamous—quote, but ‘what is truth?’”
“By all means, let’s get the grid up to one
The engineer tapped a finger on the table The cowboy stared at Tristan. Finally, he hundred percent,” Tristan said dryly. “However,
absently. “The Aries Station is a good one. said, “What do you believe?” she doesn’t need a complete refit.”
It’s not far from Three Systems, and it’s out
of bounds of both the Xanthus Common- “What do I believe about what?” “Pretty close to it, Sir. But, for what you
wealth and the Eridani Sovereign Union.” He need right now, Aries fits the bill.”
“About...about God, I guess.”
stopped and grinned. “Think they’ll change the
name again, now that they no longer have an “Fine. Their black market is excellent. I
Carter sat back, the weathered skin around
emperor?” should be able to pick up a good price for that
his eyes crinkling slightly, but he didn’t deign core.”
to smile.
Tristan snorted. “Oh, they’ll soon have a
new emperor, if he hasn’t proclaimed himself “Aries also has veterinarian quarantine,”
Tristan felt his spine straighten and his
to be one yet. Or a god directly. That priest Slap put in. “That’s usually where Three
mouth tighten but reminded himself Slap was
Kebba knows what he’s doing.” Systems’ livestock comes through.”
really only a kid. Tread lightly. “Belief doesn’t
validate a claim of truth. However, in my expe- “Granted,” Carter said, gazing at Slap with
Slap scratched his ear. “But I don’t get rience, whatever the truth is, men have twisted a frown, “you want to be careful—that’s your
why the people wouldn’t understand what it until it’s unrecognizable.” Tristan thought of upbringing, and I respect that. But aren’t
the priests are up to. They know now their the competing religions within his childhood animals illegally brought to Zenos all the time?
emperor was no god. Why would they just subculture. What is truth? He swallowed. I mean, what stops a ship from landing just
accept another man who says he’s a god? Don’t Other than the fact I have a black, damned anywhere?”
they want the truth?” soul, I don’t know.
“But that system of belief is all they know,” “The patrol tries to stop any illegal landings,
“So you don’t believe there’s a God?” like anywhere else, but it’s done.” Slap scowled,
Carter said, shaking his head. “Most of them
are very ignorant.” tapping his fork on the plate. “And we’ve had
Tristan inhaled sharply. “I believe we need some plagues from it. But that’s why I want to
to get this ship to a facility for repairs.” He
“That wouldn’t matter anyway. Most people be careful. It’s not just for Príncipe’s sake.”
turned his attention to Carter, dismissing Slap
aren’t interested in truth.” Tristan paused and and his topic. “Aries, you said?” “Then, Aries it is.” Tristan peered at Carter.

“Now, what about you? With your engineer supplies. As well as any information I might need “A pirate captain shares equally with his
skills, why are you worried about that tag?” to facilitate getting your horse back to Zenos in crew or there will be mutiny,” Tristan replied,
good health. Get to work, gentlemen.” eyeing Slap. He hadn’t picked up the chit.
Carter smiled. “Well, I’m no doctor. But I
can find one to remove the tag now that I’m # Carter grinned. “You consider us freeboo-
off Dulesh.” ters?”
“And change your identity again, no doubt. Aries Station was, as usual, lucrative. His “Not really. We don’t raid ships—or commit
What if Kane puts out a legal screamer on cargo from Dulesh—both hidden and official— any of the subsequent atrocities. But we’re on
you?” had sold, as had the core. the dark side of legal.”
“I already have to avoid any identity However, the space station, as usual, gave “So are some of the galactic governments.
scans—my retina, DNA, everything is on file him the feeling he needed to watch his back. But back to this,” Carter held up the chit. “The
and might still be screamered by the Confeds, And Slap was getting more and more agitated. sharing equally is a crock.” He paused and
despite my ‘death.’” He knew they had to depart soon. grinned. “Sir.”
“The real reason you couldn’t just leave.” By ship’s time, his two companions should “Depends on the captain. This is my way of
Tristan nodded as Carter’s smile grew. “Well, be in bed, but as he suspected, they were in doing things.”
I’m going to contact Kane, once we sell the the lounge. Carter was eating, but Slap merely
core, and pay him off. If he doesn’t want to stared into space. Carter shrugged.
legally release you, I’ll remind him that Con- “How go the repairs?” Tristan asked from Tristan cut his eyes to Slap. “And I have
federation agents aren’t smiled upon in the the doorway. to disagree. The galactic governments are all
Xanthus Commonwealth.” strictly legal—from their own standpoint.”
“Good,” Carter replied, smiling. “The crews
“He’s not an agent, but he does pass them should be finished with armor repairs by “Well, then, their morality is question-
information.” tomorrow. And I should be done in a day or able.”
“Only for a price, I’m sure.” Tristan replied two.”
Slap snorted. Tristan and Carter both looked
dryly. “But do you think the Xanthian govern- “Good,” Tristan echoed. “We’ll be leaving at him and exchanged glances.
ment cares for semantics?” as soon as everything is completed.” With
a flourish, he tossed a chit at Carter, who Tristan changed the subject. “I also have
Carter’s lopsided grin widened. “Captain,
managed to make a clumsy catch—hand the veterinary certificates you need, Slap.
remind me to never get on your bad side. But
against chest, and set the other one on the Apparently, the priests did a good job keeping
thank you for your help.”
table in front of Slap. that beast of yours as healthy as possible. He
“Without yours, I don’t know if I could passed the health examination, so he’s safe to
have gotten onto Eridani Prime—at least, not “I sold the core. This is the cut for each of be taken to Zenos, and he’s had all his inocula-
in anything near a timely manner.” Tristan cut you. I took out the costs of repairs first, so it’s tions, so Zenos is safe for him.”
his eyes to Slap, who seemed preoccupied. not as much as it could have been.”
Slap perked up a bit. The cowboy had all
“Although still not timely enough.” Carter slid his through the reader of the but wrung his hands when the veterinarian had
Tristan stood. “I will need a list of parts console on a nearby table and whistled. come aboard to examine the animal, and hung
from you, Carter, and one from you, Slap, for “Captain, this is too much!” over the man incessantly until Tristan dragged

him away. last of the repairs done. We need to celebrate. Perseus had been pristine, like it was
Let’s all go to a restaurant. Be a change from brand new, although Slap knew all the stations
“Of course, he won’t pass the legal require- the packaged rations we’ve been eating. There had been around between half to a standard
ments for importation,” Tristan continued, “but are a few good restaurants on Aries.” century. Aries seemed seedy by comparison.
I can land you wherever you want.” The structure appeared sound, but it lacked
“I dunno.” Slap dropped his gaze, while his the attention to detail. Perseus had fancy wall
“The patrol will be on your tail, but I know fingers played through the hair of the stallion’s tiles and bright paints. Aries was a dull metal,
you and Bertha can handle it. Thanks.” The mane. “I think I druther stay here.” almost unfinished-looking.
cowboy actually essayed a small smile.
“You’ve been cooped up here since we Kiosks littered the concourse in a hodge-
Tristan pushed the chit at him. “And don’t arrived. Come on.” podge fashion, and the inner wall that had
forget this. It’s yours—and no argument!” He contained neat shops, restaurants, and hostels
finished as Slap opened his mouth. He turned Slap shook his head. on Perseus was filled with bars and—Slap
back to Carter. “Are you going with us to
Carter stared at him for a few moments blushed—brothels with girls in windows, dis-
Zenos?”
before saying, “I know you had some rough playing their...wares.
Carter hesitated. “Do you foresee you’ll times on Eridani, and you’ve wanted to be left The restaurant Tristan took them to was on
need me?” alone to sort through things. But sometimes an upper level with one curved, clear wall dis-
being alone ends up being in a rut, and you
Tristan narrowed his eyes. “That sounds playing the space kept safely at bay. Slap was
sink into it, rather than work your way out of
like a tactful way of intimating you are saying glad Tristan wasn’t one to chatter on, and—
it. Just one hour.”
good-bye.” although Carter usually was, he made surpris-
“But—” ingly little small talk. Slap managed to eat and
Carter chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it is. I enjoy did admit—to himself—that Carter was right.
traveling with you, and maybe we’ll meet again “As a good-bye meal, since you’ll be leaving Getting out had helped. A little.
one day, but this is the closest I’ve been to tomorrow. I’m packed and have a hostel room
really being free in many years. I’d like to try it already. This is the last you’ll see of my homely The three left the restaurant, and Carter
out. So I’ll be staying here on Aries. I can catch face.” said good-bye, wishing them both well. With a
a ship, or”—he held up the chit—“buy one.” nod, he sauntered off.
Slap smiled at Carter’s attempt at humor.
Tristan nodded. “All right.” Slap sighed and followed Tristan. Once back
on the main concourse, they encountered the
# # crowds of passengers, tourists, and hawkers.
Slap wove with Tristan through the press. A girl
barely more dressed than those in the brothel
Slap patted Príncipe’s neck, murmuring to Slap took in the sight of Aries Station with windows bumped into him. She looked up and
him, telling him—again—about his new home. wide eyes. In design, it looked like Perseus smiled—a feral smile reminding him of Nadi.
“Soon, boy, you’ll get to see it. Wide open skies, Station, that first space station where Tristan His stomach turned, and he shuddered and
and ground with grass on it. You’ll like that. Not had tried to dump Slap. But this place bore broke out in a cold sweat. With a convulsive
sand everywhere you look. Real soon, now...” little resemblance once in the civilian ring, gulp, he pushed her away and rushed ahead. I
other than the crush of people—human and
Carter sauntered over, wiping his hands won’t throw up! I won’t throw up!
alien.
on a cloth. “Hey, Slap. I officially just got the He broke into a run, his stomach still

threatening to upheave, and didn’t stop until To catch up on previous episodes of She began martial arts training over thirty
he was aboard Bertha. He hurried to Príncipe, the adventures of Slap and Tristan, visit: years ago, and owned a karate school for
taking deep breaths, and buried his face in thehttp://loriendil.com/DW.php
horse’s neck. a decade. When on the planet, she lives
in Delaware with her husband, Steve, and
He heard his friend come up behind him.
Without turning, he said, “Take me home, Deuces Wild is dedicated to the memory of their youngest child. She enjoys garden-
Tristan. Please!” my best friend; my inspiration for an enduring ing, soap making, and reading. She also
friendship...
likes Looney Tunes, the color purple, and
# http://loriendil.com/Starsky/ is a Zorro aficionado, which might explain
Tristan watched the forlorn-looking figure her love for swords and cloaks.
holding the stallion’s mane and waving as he
took off. The cowboy was back at the mouth
of the valley where his home had been. He
wished he could have done more, but what
else was there to do? L. S. King
Giselle rose and banked west, and he set
course for Zanti City where he and Slap first
met. He’d refuel and see if he could get cargo. A science fiction fan since childhood, L.S.
And find out what was left of the Mordas; King has been writing stories since her
perhaps he could give them another punch
in the stomach before he left. And then—he youth. Now, with all but one of her chil-
would head into space and be by himself dren grown, she is writing full-time. She
again. has developed a sword-and-planet series
That was, after all, what he had wanted. tentatively called The Ancients. The first
book is finished, and she has completed
rough drafts of several more novels as
well.
She serves on the editorial staff of The Sword

Review, is also their Columns Editor, and
writes a column for that magazine entitled
“Writer’s Cramps” as well. She is also one
of the Overlords, a founding editor, here at
Ray Gun Revival.

Jolly RGR Pg. 37
The RGR Space Monkey Flash Fiction Challenge
A s a special treat, we’re rolling out

something special, the Ray Gun
Revival Space Monkey Flash Fiction
Good Eatin’
by Johne Cook
They were kind of funny.
As Baxter got closer, he found what
Baxter made a good meal. remained of Jill. It looked like Baxter
Challenge. had made too much yet again.
He and Jill ate well on the remote
The rules are simple: craft a flash fiction space station, but he always made too One of them saw Baxter and bran-
story of between 250 - 500 words and much food. By now, they were the only dished a cheesy plastic raygun in an
submit them through the Submissions two remaining. Kumquats, tube sirloin, awkward simian paw. Its aim was
queue—the Author - Artist Tools link on and real hydro tomatoes; the guys in not effective, pointing the weapon at
the forums page when you are logged Houston said they didn’t eat so well. Baxter’s head, but melting the “You are
in with “Space Monkey Flash Fiction” in That was before their signal went dead. here” display in middle of the corridor
the Subtitles field. Now it was just him, and her, and the instead.
kumquats.
You have one month to get them in, “That was rude,” muttered Baxter. He
and then 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place will be No one knows where the space darted forward and wrested the weapon
awarded in the August 15th issue. Each monkeys came from, with their lumi- from its hairy grasp, and stepped back.
of the top three will receive the same nescent fur and swirling eyes. Their “Take this, you damned dirty monkey,”
$5 award, however, we will provide saucer docked and they gained entrance he said, and started to pull the trigger.
distinguished 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place without an authorization code. That
RGR badges that you can put on your was the first of many mysteries. Turns out, their teeth were more
website or blog. Jill went to investigate, but Baxter effective than their aim. They leapt
forward and ate the gun right out of his
stayed behind to mind his cooking.
I have to give Taylor Kent props for hand. Startled, Baxter turned to run.
this idea—he was the one who got Jill hadn’t returned by lunchtime, so
Baxter rinsed his favorite ladle and went Baxter made a good meal.
me started thinking about this some
months ago, and I took a swing at it looking for her.
then. I wrote this little bit of doggerel in He turned a corner and saw a crowd
about 45 minutes, and I’m only a little of the creatures fighting over something
offended at how awful it turned out. on the floor. They seemed glad to be
able to stretch all their many limbs.

Ray Gun Revival Magazine, Issue 25, Anniversary Issue!

Enviado por

Dados do documento

Título original

Direitos autorais

Formatos disponíveis

Compartilhar este documento

Compartilhar ou incorporar documento

Opções de compartilhamento

Você considera este documento útil?

Este conteúdo é inapropriado?

Direitos autorais:

Formatos disponíveis

Ray Gun Revival Magazine, Issue 25, Anniversary Issue!

Enviado por

Direitos autorais:

Formatos disponíveis

Our special first anniversary issue!

Issue 25 July 01, 2007

Cover Art: “Proelium” by Eduardo Lopez Mustaros

Without Whom... Bill Snodgrass, site host,

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Travelling With The Archetypes

B ob pulled the last road case across

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

# going to jail and he’s taking us all with him. No.

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

The Exile of Joseph Reed

W hen I woke in the pseudo-morning,

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Vincent. esting.” brains pulping up between my fingers.

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Where your work has been featured?

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Hot Off the Press

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

“P ríncipe is settled in,” Slap said from

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

She serves on the editorial staff of The Sword

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

A s a special treat, we’re rolling out

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Você também pode gostar

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 25, July 01, 2007