Michelle's Time Alone

In my first book, Dangerous Stars, I introduced a secondary character named Michelle Henrix.  She was a survivor from an attacked research vessel.  During her time on the KRENNET, she aided the ship's engineer with tasks around the ship.  She vanished searching for the station where the KRENNET had been built.

In an epilogue for the sequel, Striking Among the Stars, she appears again.  This time as the captain and only crewmember of her own ship.  I've never thought much about what may have happened to her between leaving the KRENNET and boarding the BELLADONNA.  Until today that is.

Two weeks.  That's how long Michelle had been living on this remote station.  Arriving at the construction facility, she was quickly hired as a lead technician.  Apparently, showing up with a fuel transfer coil from the premiere ship of the previous generation of ships went a long way when applying for a position.

Two weeks of working in either a cramped passage filled with pipes and cables or drifting through wide-open space in a tight spacesuit.  Two weeks socializing with other technicians and engineers during off shifts.  Two weeks becoming known to everyone on the project for her efforts on the job and friendliness off the job.  Her name began to appear frequently in the reports reviewed by the handful of unknown figures that operated the facility.  This is something they commented to each other in their encrypted, clandestine communications.

While Michelle was installing the secondary signal relay system between the central command system and engineering deck, her next assignment was being determined without her knowledge.  The members of the group unknown to each other, recognized only by codenames and familiar voices.

"Unlike many of the candidates we have looked at, we have first-hand knowledge of her work ethics and abilities."

"That we do.  However, she seems too perfect.  I question so much about someone so ideal literally appearing on our doorstep like she did."

"You always have been so cynical and suspicious.  We have investigated and vetted her background.  I will admit that her encounter with both projects Cloud Cover and Hidden Knife is very coincidental.  However, with all the strange coincidences this universe has presented us with, it's not impossible."

"You're both right.  Given the type of fleet we are attempting to build here, we need to be cautious in regards to the crew we put on our ships.  We also need to be aware of the fact that the growth in the number of those ships will increase the chances of someone seeking us out and finding us, even if by accident.  We only build at the one remote platform in order to minimize the chances of discovery.  On the other hand, we don't arm and defend it heavily so those that do find us can approach unthreatened.  It is all part of our ultimate goal."

"According to my notes, she is liked by nearly everyone she has worked with.  I still wonder why she has never been put in a leadership position.

"She has been offered a number of promotions that would put her in charge of many subordinates.  She accepted the first one but has refused all others.  Something about her character makes her unfit for a large command and she knows it."

"I guess it's a good thing this will not be a concern with the crew of this new ship.  Leadership abilities aren't required when there is nobody to lead."

"I will compromise.  Madam Michelle will be considered a top candidate for the pilot's seat.  Still, I will send some of my own personal agents to interview people from her past in order to further verify the authenticity of her background."

"Understood.  While we wait for the final word from your agents, we can move ahead with some of the testing required.  As Michelle is already with the installation of bridge equipment, it wouldn't be a leap of logic for her to test the pilot/AI interface system.  Much of the neurological compatibility and response time testing can be done at the same time."

"We will not eliminate any of the other candidates from future considerations until we are unanimous in our choice.  Regardless of who it is or what species they may be."

With that agreement, Michelle's future career was determined.  Either she would pilot the craft she was currently lending a hand in building, or she would be "eliminated from future considerations."

Back at the station, far from any of the individuals making important decisions, Michelle finishes her shift and rides the shuttle between the construction platform and the station housing the living and entertainment quarters.  She makes a comment about one of the construction managers that causes all of the shuttle passengers to laugh loudly or quietly chuckle.  Even the pilot, brother of the subject of her comment, smiles.

I may or may not give Michelle Henrix her own book.  Would it still be considered a spin-off if the originating series is only two books?  There is so much to think about when creating an entire universe and filling it with characters and events.

Identity Verification

I originally had an idea for today's story that was about plans for world domination.  It was to be a piece from the point of view of a maniacal villain bent on taking over the planet.  It was going to be dark and powerful.  Then that train of thought fell off the tracks.

Netflix recently released a new version of a show that was beloved to me in my childhood, Voltron.  As I watched the reboot pilot episode, they mentioned each robotic lion choosing its pilot and the match can't be forced.  While their connection has a mystic angle, I got to wondering about a more technological angle for connecting a weapon and wielder.

There was one series that featured laser swords with an added function to the handle.  When someone gripped the handle, the weapon would sample their blood to make sure they were the kind of person allowed to wield such a weapon.  If the DNA didn't have the correct markers, the sword wouldn't activate.  I wanted to take this idea a little further.  What are some other biometrics that could be measured?  Could combinations of these physical traits be unique enough to tell one person from another?

"Alright you punks!  Millions has been spent on your training.  Apparently some high muckety-muck thinks that has earned all of you the right to your own combat equipment.  I don't see it, but they don't pay me to make these decisions."

A group of young, eager troopers sit still and straight in their chairs as a grizzled officer stands at the front of the briefing room.  The scars on his face and cybernetic leg are testaments to his long combat experience.  Behind him is a screen that currently only displays the logo of the military arm of the Interplanetary Expeditionary Forces.  The troopers know the screen will soon be showing them the specifications of the flight systems and weapons programs that will be assigned to them.  While they all respect the old soldier before them, on the inside they are all impatient and want to try out their new gear.

"Now, before any of you are allowed to pilot a flyer, drive a tank, or fire a cannon, it will have to be attuned to you.  Unlike those fantasy sims I know many of you play, there is nothing spiritual or metaphysical about this."

As he continued to speak, bars and graphs began to appear on the screen.  All of the troopers recognized the displays as the readouts of biological scanners.  Only a few knew exactly what each graph meant and what system in a body generated each readout.

"The first time you grip the controls of a newly configured system, it will take a number of biological readings from you.  DNA patterns, resting brain wave patterns, pheromone levels, and other statistics are are unique to each and every one of you.  Once these are all locked into the system's digital memory, it will compare them with the statistics of anyone else that attempts to use that system.  If someone else tries to use a system programmed for you, they will be ejected immediately.  During ground combat, this can be inconvenient.  I won't go into the hazards of this occurring during operations in space."

A quick shudder ran through all the troopers as they considered the realities of suddenly being ejected into a hard vacuum.  It was something all of them had seen the results of, but none wanted to experience personally.  As the group mentally recovered, medtechs entered the room from a side door.
 The officer finished his speech as generic schematics for computer systems and controller configurations flashed across the screen.

"Making these combat systems operable for only one person makes them extremely expensive.  Regardless of what the accountants say, I consider each of them more valuable than any one of you.  Once you have been dispatched, be sure and treasure your equipment and bring it back.  If you don't, I will personally track you down and extract every lost dollar out of your hide.

Now, follow these specialists to the medical bay and they will get you outfitted for your individual attunements."

There are so many different ways today of gathering biological data on an individual.  Would it really be so hard to customize a weapon or vehicle so that only one person can operate it?

I do realize this would be expensive.  It would also nearly eliminate the used car sales industry.  Can you think of any advantages to such a system?

A Day In The Mines

The curses of the Real World imposed themselves and prevented me from posting my last regular blog.  For that, I apologize.  I am adjusting many of my usual routines and patterns to accommodate a shift in my employment.

For today's post, I have been considering those that have entered the mining profession.  They risk their lives to work deep under the surface of the Earth and collect the metals and minerals we take for granted on a daily basis.  Silver, copper, and even salt all must be extracted from the dirt by people that spend long stretches of time away from the light of the sun.

In recent years, many people have discussed a secondary source for many of these minerals.  It would still require the risks and skill of miners.  However, reaching this source comes with a new set of challenges.  After all, it takes more than a pick and shovel to mine an asteroid.

The locator beacon was transmitting its signal loud and clear.  The survey crew had marked a very promising rock.  Their preliminary scans and tests seemed to indicate the presence of iron and copper ores along with some other trace minerals.  As the only miner close enough to reach it without exhausting too much fuel, Jackson would be the one luck enough to make a claim on the asteroid.  If he survived the excursion, this haul would make him a very tidy profit.  There might even be enough funds left over to upgrade some of the systems in his craft.  A larger cargo pod would mean larger future hauls for even more profit.  That would have to wait until Jackson had a chance to see exactly how much he could extract from this rock.

The beacon was about 5 degrees to his left and about 20 degrees under his feet.  A couple of short bursts from his maneuvering thrusters would place the beacon directly in front of him.  A brief burn of his main engine would start narrowing the 50 kilometer distance.  He could close the gap more quickly with a longer burn of his engine, but that would cost more fuel now and again when it came time to slow down and approach the asteroid itself.  Besides, the longer travel time would give Jackson more time to power up and run diagnostics on his mining equipment and space suit.

Some time later, Jackson is standing on a large barren rock.  The ticking of his landing thrusters as they cool unheard behind him.  His helmet keeping him alive and and blocking out any slight sounds that might make their way through the emptiness around him and the asteroid.  The only things Jackson could sense were the sounds of his suit's air recycler and the pressure of the suit itself on his body.  The lamps on his helmet don't brighten the omnipresent darkness much more than a few feet in front of him.

Jackson sticks the probe in his left hand deep into the powdery soil clinging to the surface of the asteroid.  He extracts the probe and places the sample in its tip into the machine he had been dragging behind him for testing.  As he waits for the results, he is momentarily envious of the tales of his great-grandfather and grandfather and their years mining.  It was said they could both swing a pick into the ground and pull it out.  They would then lick the dirt that stuck to the tip.  They each had the legendary ability to taste whether or not the ground had enough profitable ores to stake a claim.  Jackson had been tempted more than once with the urge to test his own sense of taste and its affinity for minerals.  It was the need to maintain a seal on his helmet that kept him from doing so.

Jackson had traveled about half the distance between his landing spot and the survey team's beacon.  He had collected enough samples to know the powdery "soil" had enough trace minerals to make it worth collecting.  It would require deeper probes into the harder core material of the asteroid to determine how much profit, if any, there would actually be.

If it were possible right now, would you want to be a part of a team surveying asteroids for possible minerals?  Or would you prefer the solitary existence of a miner itself?  While mining asteroids is still firmly planted in science fiction, much of the technology to do it does exist today.

The Noah Come Ashore

My story of the Noah has taken a firm seat in the back row as I worked on other stories and ideas.  I think it's time for these aliens from a world covered in oceans to continue their quest to save humanity.

With everyone else on the base running around packing, Darryl made his way into the communications room to see if he could ask the Noah to translate the unusual signal his cousin had found.  The equipment was still active, but the Private that usually operated it was nowhere to be seen.  That was very unusual since messages may come in from the Noah or governments at any time.  Darryl didn't dwell on the situation much as he takes the seat before the console and enters the commands to transmit a signal to the Noah.  He included the signal his cousin had detected and requested any additional information the Noah may have on its nature.  In all honesty, Darryl figured it was simply a relay signal from the Noah themselves.

The captain of the Noah ship initiates the final DNA scans and collection procedures to save the various species of Earth.  Collection systems and biological storage tanks are readied for the humans to occupy them while in suspension.  There are enough tanks and space for every human being on Earth, assuming they can all be evacuated before the Drag'kon arrive.

The communications officer on the Noah ship received the new signal from Earth.  The first part of the signal was simple enough.  The attached audio file did cause some alarm.  The communications officer quickly alerted the ship's captain and began reviewing earlier scans of the solar system.  There she finds the Drag'kon scout ship's ion trail.  More to her dismay, she sees the Drag'kon attack fleet as they emerge from the asteroid belt in full attack formation.

Small, swift attack craft surround the rest of the fleet.  Their energy weapons primed to harass any defenses the fleet might encounter.  Any major damage would be dealt by the disruptor arrays and missile launchers of the larger ships.  The single Noah ship, even a battlecruiser, would be hard pressed to defend itself against such numbers.  Keeping the Earth safe while evacuating the planet would be nearly impossible.

There are still some elements of the story I wish to use.  It's just a matter of figuring out how to get them to fit in naturally.

Another Generation of Serenity

I have been a fan of Joss Whedon's space Western Firefly for a long time.  I frequently mentally curse the executives at the Fox network that fouled up the shows episode order and then cancelled it entirely too quickly.

Many fans of the beloved crew of the Firefly-class transport ship have asked, begged, and pleaded for more episodes.  Unfortunately, the actors have all moved on to other series.  Bringing them back together would be extremely difficult, almost impossible.  There is also the fact that the performers have all aged in the decade since the movie Serenity was released.  Some of them may not be up to the kind of role another season of chases, shootouts, sword fights, and dances may demand of them.

There is a simple way around this problem.  A second generation of crew.  A new group on board the Serenity taking what jobs they can get paid for and avoiding the long reach of the Alliance government.  Children of the original crew and some new passengers travelling the 'Verse.

Chloe Washburne-- The daughter of Zoe and Wash.  After discussing her desire to start a family, Zoe unknowingly becomes pregnant a matter of days before Wash is killed by the Reapers.  Zoe's pregnancy becomes evident and continues during a rare extended period of legitimate business endeavors by the crew of the Serenity.  Chloe is born and raised on board the ship, tools becoming her toys and removable panels her hiding places.  By the time she reaches the age of fourteen, she knows the ship intimately enough to become the best pilot ever to fill Wash's vacated seat.

Jeremiah Reynolds-- One day a teenager is waiting outside the ship with a note in a sealed envelope.  The message simply reads "Mal, I have had my time with our child, now it is your turn.  Signed, your loving wife."  The young man is the son of Malcolm Reynolds and Yolanda/Saffron/Bridgette.  In the underground life they lead, the crew of the Serenity encounter this manipulative woman a number of times.  Not all of them end as successfully as the episodes we have seen.  During one particularly dark event, Yosafbridge knocks Mal out and manages to impregnate herself with his child.  Her exact reasoning and goals are unknown.  All that is certain is that he inherited his father's drive and sense of right along with his mother's flexible morals and sense of self-worth.  Some day he may fill his father's boots as captain, but only once he realizes the kind of man he is and wants to be.  For the time being, he struts his stuff as the intimidating muscle of the ship.

"Ambassador" Richardson-- Thomas Richardson is a political attache with a small planet.  The planet's position is just outside the Central Planets that make up the core of the Alliance government, but it provides an essential service the Alliance military requires.  This allows members of the planet's ruling family nearly as many privileges as high ranking members of the military.  Having seen the extremes the Alliance would go to and their lack of concern for their own people, Thomas is more than willing to undermine them whenever he can.  Like Inara, his presence on board gives the Serenity a degree of legitimacy and allows it to dock many places they would otherwise be denied.

Kaylee and Simon Tam-- The married couple retains their roles as engineer and ship's doctor.  Her wedding dress was a familiar poofy pink gown and their cake prominently featured strawberries on each layer.  Much of Kaylee's unique decorating style now adorns the couple's shared bunk and the infirmary as well as the engine room.  The two of them take care of the ship and crew like loving parents watching over an active and potentially dangerous family.

River Tam-- The youngest person on the original crew now leads the current personnel as Captain.  Her unique abilities earned her much respect from friends and foes alike.  As time passed, new abilities surfaced and her control of them has waxed and waned.  She has become comfortable with what was done to her, but still fears the pairs of individuals with "hands of blue."

The addition of a new crew does not mean the old crew is forgotten.  Malcolm could make occasional appearances as the operator of an out of the way station or settlement.  He would have legitimate and illegal missions for the crew to complete as well as fatherly advice for his son that may or may not be heeded, or even correct.  Jayne easily has a future as an arms dealer.  His beloved Vera mounted on the wall behind his desk as he gives the current crew access to specialized equipment, at a price.  While I can't think of a reason for Inara to appear, I do feel confident that Joss Whedon could if the situation demanded it.

What next generation character would you like to see in an extended Firefly series?  Is there a villain that you would like to reappear?  Am I completely wrong on all of my characters?  Let me know what you think in the comments.

The Ultimate Control

News headlines over the last few months have been filled with incidents involving guns.  Many politicians, including President Obama, have put forth suggestions for further regulations regarding gun purchases and ownership.  While I agree that there are some people that should not be allowed to own or wield a firearm, this does not mean the public at large should be prevented from having guns for their own personal use.

Executive orders and knee-jerk legislation are not a way to debate how to properly prevent these tragedies.  These regulations simply force the opinion of one side of the debate on the general public without allowing a differing view to express itself.  While the slope may not be very slippery, but it is a path that politicians like to walk down without considering what may lie at the other end.  As long as they have their power, lawmakers don't bother with the consequences of their words.

Once politicians have the power to dictate who can have what, where will civilization eventually lead?  When laws and privileges are based on political contributions, how will the lines between the elite and the common citizens be defined?

Life is good.  Sure, I have to perform the occasional patrol, but there are worse duties than strolling through some of the nicer residential neighborhoods.  I could have been assigned border patrol or forced to work shifts at one of the Allotment Centers.  Imagine spending eight hours a day having to deal with all of those lower classes.  I guess I balanced partying and studying during my six years at college.  With the government paying all my expenses, I could have stayed longer.  Unfortunately, my parents wanted me to graduate and start making appearances at the social events they frequented.

I pat the firearm on my hip.  I was off duty, but it was my right to carry one so I wore it everywhere.  I even had a fashionably decorated holster for it to rest in.  Maybe one day I will visit the firing range and become an accurate shooter, or maybe not.  It's not like I have to worry about ever using it.  None of the lower classes were allowed guns so it's not like I was going to be shot by any of them.  Of course they spent their entire lives slaving away at their menial jobs and living in their simple homes.  Having to pay for their own education meant they never learned anything important anyway.

 It's a good thing my family became Elites generations ago.  Their contributions to the Politicals back then really worked out for me.  I didn't even have to work hard to avoid serving in the military.  I just had to check a box on a form when I graduated high school.  Let the Commoners keep the country free.  That's what they are for anyway.

In this world I see Politicals as a ruling class, sitting in their mansions on high making decisions that impact the lives of the population at large.  The Elites are the families that have given to the campaigns of the Politicals.  These company owners and their descendants enjoy certain extra perks and a higher social status.  Their contributions allow then to influence the policies the Politicals create through their votes and their dollars.  The last group is the Commoners.  These people make up the bulk of the population.  They work the hardest of the three social classes.  Their power and influence is exerted the least despite their vastly more numerous population.

With this in mind, I have two questions.  Are there any other privileges the Elites or Politicals may have that the Commoners are denied?  If things continue they way they currently are, how long before our society begins to resemble this model?

News Update

The theatrical release of the newest Star Wars movie is upon us all, whether we like it or not.  With the movie being featured in many news broadcasts and being mentioned on many networks, why not mention other science fiction franchises as well.  For today's post, I bring you an average news broadcast complete with anchors, sports, and traffic.  Just like you would see on any day from your local station, almost.

Thank you for tuning into IGIN, your Intergalactic Information Network. This is Colickner Smith with your headlines for this cycle. Tonight I am assisted by the lovely and tentacled Chrissy Frageelei. We have Then'teknor Beckham with sports and Major Captain Major reporting on the traffic throughout the interstellar routes.

Our first headline comes from the United Federation of Planets. It appears a temporary alliance between the Federation and two of their neighboring empires has become an extended cease fire and a longing peace. The final details of the treaty will be negotiated at an assembly on the Babylon 5 station in orbit around Epsilon III in the Epsilon Eridani system. All of us here at IGIN wish these three interstellar organizations the best of luck with their future endeavors.

Now we go to Then'teknor for a story from the world of sports. What do you have for us Then'teknor?

Thank you Colickner. This planetary cycle I have a story of controversy from the directors of the Kessel Run Racing League. The pilot of a light freighter is claiming to have made the Kessel Run in only twelve parsecs. The KRRL is looking into these claims and the possibility of the folding of space while traveling in hyperspace. Investigators are trying to determine whether or not the pilot managed to manipulate conditions and complete a run shorter than is allowed by League rules and regulations.

A final report of the investigation is expected later this cycle. We will have that report and the scores from the finals of the latest Blitzball tournament in a later broadcast. Back to you Colickner and Chrissy.

Thank you Then'teknor. I'm sure many of our viewers are looking forward to those Blitzball scores, especially all the Aurochs fans out there. In a little bit we will hear from our interstellar traffic and navigation expert Major Captain Major. Following that will be a special report from Chrissy Frageelei. First, a quick report on the loss of one of our fellow broadcasters.

It appears much of the signals from the broadcaster known only as Mr. Universe have all but ceased. His systems are still relaying signals, but there are no more of his original shows being broadcast. Many fans have stated their disappointment at the loss of any more future demonstrations of his skills in realistic humanoid robot construction and programming. The signal was interrupted briefly after a large battle between a number of Alliance battleships and a fleet of Reaver craft. The exact involvement of a single Firefly-class cargo ship is unknown at this point.

Now we come to our traffic and navigation update from Major Captain Major.

The completion of a hyperspatial expressway through sector ZZ-ZZZ-Alpha. The construction contractor states that a planet in the path of the expressway has been more difficult to remove than initially estimated. Further bureaucratic red tape has been blamed for delays in the new expressway.

On another note, an update to standard navigation systems is being made. A large debris field now orbits where the planet Alderaan was once located. Navigators are discouraged from using a large moon-like object that has been spotted in the system as a reference point for their flight plans. A full release of updated star charts is expected momentarily.

Thank you Major. Finally we look to Chrissy Frageelei for a public interest story.

Thank you Colickner, and thank you to all you viewers tuning in this planetary cycle. My story touches on something that many peoples consider just an urban legend and myth to be dismissed.

Almost every intelligent species, race, and civilization discovered has one item in common. An encounter with something described as only a rectangular blue box. Encounters range from ancient references to modern sightings and recordings. Descriptions of the occupants of the blue box always include bipedal humanoids, but the details vary widely. The supposed leader of the crew of the box has been described as both young and old. Different witnesses have given widely different estimates of his age throughout history. His lack of a consistent appearance is one of the reasons many consider him a figment of the imagination despite the reliability of those making claims of encounters.

Adding to the story is the recent addition of another mysterious structure. While sightings are still limited, some speculate that this new building with the word “DINER” above the entrance may become nearly as popular a legend as the blue box. Anyone seeing either object is encouraged to contact your local law enforcement department. The producers of this show and IGIN executives also request witnesses also contact them on a frequency of 867/5309 with their story.

Thank you Chrissy. We will all be a look out for these legendary figures. That concludes our broadcast at this time. On behalf of Chrissy Frageelei, sportsman Then'teknor Beckham, and navigation expert Major Captain Major, this is Colickner Smith wishing all of you peace and long life.

Did you recognize all of the franchises mentioned?  Are there more you would like to see included in a future news broadcast?

All Done

November 30th has come and gone.  My verified word count for the National Novel Writing Month challenge is 50,079 words written in 30 days.  On my fourth try, I am a WINNER!  I am excited, exhausted, relieved, and satisfied.  Now the more serious work begins.  I have to finish the story and seal up some plot holes.  There is tons of editing that needs to be done.  A title needs to be settled on.  A cover image needs to be chosen or made.  Writing the story is only the beginning and the easiest part of getting a novel out to the public.

My brain cells continue to recover as I take a slower, more careful look at the words I have written.  Today's post is one of the epilogues from the end of the book.  If you wish to read the book once it is completed, this shouldn't be too much of a spoiler.  In the meantime, enjoy.

News is being broadcast all over the station. A hidden corinthum processing plant had been located on the planet below. The discovery was due to an issue arising with some odd residue being discovered in a secondary power system for the station. An operation by Sector Security's elite enforcement officers led them to the storage room full of slag. From there it was easy to track down the processing center on the planet and its supply of raw corinthum and other minerals.

Timothy “Timmy” Van Hausen sits in his office when the news comes across his terminal. Without even thinking about it, he compiles a few files together. The files are attached to a message that also includes the names of a number of the people on the orbital station. Names of people that Timmy has worked with in unofficial ways for some time. Timmy's contacts on other stations in other systems also go into the message. The captains he had recruited to collect and transport slaves and their ships were also mentioned. Finally Timmy signs the message with his personal identification code to show the contents are from him and not part of any official procedure or communique. The message is sent to the station's commander, the Sector Security Deputy Director in charge of this region, Timmy's own direct supervisor, and a number of other administrators and officials.

Once the message is sent, Timmy shuts his terminal down and stands up. Despite the fact it's less than halfway through his work day, he walks out of his office with the feeling he won't be back. A short lift ride brings him to the commons. There he sits down at an empty table and waits for someone. He isn't sure who and how long before they arrive, but he will sit here and wait as long as it takes.

This novel is a sequel to my first NaNoWriMo attempt and published novel, Dangerous Stars.  Pick up a copy and get to know the characters while I finish up their second adventure.  Go.  Read.  Enjoy.

Grinding

Since November 1st I have been with hundreds of thousands of writers around the world grinding away at our stories.  50,000 words in 30 days is obtainable for some and a target to be chased after by others.  This is the challenge of National Novel Writing Month.  While I work on filling out my own story, here is a sample of what I'm working on now.  It is the sequel to my first novel, Dangerous Stars.

The ship's AI quickly consulted records for the answers to Lss'Tor's questions. “Brenneth 5 is a basic class M planet. It was settled by a large contingent of religious zealots from Earth with no terraforming required. Previous persecution and religious tenants caused the planet to become isolated. They have no interstellar exports or imports. Sector Security has no presence in the system at all. The nearest sizable forces are in the Maitland system. The remoteness of the star system means that it isn't on any civilian cargo routes or flight paths. We are one of three ships within range of the broadcast. One is an unarmed interstellar scout heading out to explore further outlying systems. The other is a Sector Security battle cruiser returning to the Maitland system from a round of system upgrades.”

Christian speaks up while everyone else is still considering the tactics of their current situation. “There is nothing to decide here people. Interstellar code requires that any ship within range of a distress signal respond if they are able. We are still heavily armed, our cargo isn't critical, and we can leave this pursuit for someone else to pick up.”

Traylor chimes in with her opinion. “Christian, you are simply spoiling for a fight. The battle cruiser can handle things themselves. They don't need us. Besides, we've been warned against converting the KRENNET into combat mode where Sector Security ships could detect us.”

Christian's determination came through his voice. “That battle cruiser can't defend an entire planet by itself. There may be evacuating shuttles that need to be protected. Even an isolated planet will have industrial facilities that would be vulnerable. One simple shot from me and the tracking device will be on this damn Raider. Then we can do what needs to be done.

As for the battle cruiser detecting us while we convert, that's simple. We just enter the system in combat mode. Crystal can alter our transponder to broadcast a false signal. The cargo ship KRENNET won't be anywhere near the Brenneth system as far as anyone knows.”

Granek's rumbling voice cuts through any further discussion. “We are a crew of equals. We will decide which course to take by majority decision. Each of you state 'Pursue' if you feel we should stay on mission or 'Rescue' if you believe we should go to the aid of Brenneth 5. Crystal, could you please record the votes into your protected core for future review?”

“Protected memory ready for recording.”

Granek once again speaks in his rough tone. “Understood. I will call each of you by name for your vote. My position is 'Rescue.' Traylor?”

“I say 'Pursue.'”

“So noted. Christian?”

“It should be obvious, 'Rescue.'”

“So noted. Lss'Tor?”

“Purssue”

“So noted. Fezror, the vote comes to you.”

The engineer's rarely heard voice is soft yet clear enough for everyone to hear. “I can't simply let an entire planet remain in harm's way again. I say 'Rescue.'”

Granek stated what everyone now knew. “By majority decision we will be breaking off our pursuit of the Raider attack craft after planting a tracking beacon on its hull. We will convert out of combat mode to allow for more speed to the Brenneth system.

Now, where did I leave off at.....?   

The Power of Art

Great art has always had the power to move people.  Images have inspired feelings.  Symbols move groups to revolution.  One evening I wondered why the power of art couldn't be more literal.  This story was written with the help of the viewers of a live Ustream I did a week ago.  I may do it again in the future sometime if enough people are interested.

I am in a dark alley. Two creepy dudes are blocking my way out. To them I appear unarmed. They don't know how accurately the term “armed” describes me. As they both advance, one of them whips out a switchblade and the other brandishes a bat. If they knew how much I could do, they would run away.

I innocently raise my empty hands and my the glow from a nearby lamp shines on the tattoos that cover my arms from my wrists to the cuffs of the sleeves of my t-shirt. I speak in a calming voice down the alley, “Come on guys. You don't want to hurt me.”

They both take another step forward. The creep with the knife is spinning the blade in his hand. “If you hand your wallet then we won't hurt you, much.”

I lower my hands and cross my arms in front of my chest. I grin at their threat and the surprise they will get when I reveal what I can do. “That isn't much of a reason for me to do what you want. What's to stop me from simply pushing past you two and walking out of here?”

The guy with the bat looks questioningly at his partner and grips the handle tightly with both hands. The other creep pulls out a second knife and swishes them through the air with practiced movements. If almost anyone else were trapped in this alley by these two, they would certainly feel threatened. I, on the other hand, know I am completely safe. The two creeps would be realizing their mistake momentarily.

I lower my arms to my sides, subtly running a finger along one of the tattoos on my right arm. The ink is a picture of a longsword with a red jewel in the pommel. As I position my feet in a fighting stance, the same sword appears in my right hand. Light sparks off the sharp blade. The two men pause in their advances and movement. I grip the sword in both hands and look around it at the surprise on their faces.

“Now, I ask again, what is to stop me from simply pushing past you two and walking out of here?”

The guy with the knives takes a step back and looks at his partner again. “He's all yours H, take him out. Maybe we can pawn that toy sword of his somewhere.”

What followed couldn't fairly be called a fight. A few times the bat clanged off my sword. I finally disarmed H and pressed him and the guy with the knives out of the alley. They didn't say another word as they turned and quickly walked up the street, glancing back a couple of times to make sure I wasn't following them.

The drawing of my sword was something I had been able to do for a few years now. The power to do it was much older, it had been in my family for generations. When a young man reached the age of 20, he inherited the power from his father. The father then lost the power and traditionally would train his son in its use. There always seemed to be a son for these abilities to move on to, regardless of whether one was wanted or not. The only major difference from one person to the next was the exact manner in which the power was utilized. There was no way to dictate how one should use images to create.

I don't mean something as basic as looking at a blueprint and building something from it. The power that has passed through my family lets us take an image and give it life. Summon it if you will. One of my great-great-great-great-great grandfathers used a book of religious images to call forth angels, demons, and holy knights to do his bidding. They didn't last very long, but certainly had an impressive look to them.

My dad kept catalogs and magazines around the house. He would keep a supply of pictures cut out of them in his pockets. If he needed anything, it just took a subtle reach in to his pocket and he could pull the perfect item out. Tools, weapons, a comb or razor, it didn't matter. All of them were right there at his fingertips. It was only a concern when his pants got wet. Then he would have to hit the magazine racks to resupply himself.

I decided to go a bit edgier. When I reached the age of 16 and was told what was going to happen to me, I knew I couldn't just touch a picture and call forth the item. I had to go to an extreme. I make the pictures part of myself and get tattoos. Then I could just touch the proper section of ink and do what needed to be done.

The sword I used on the punks in the alley was my first piece of ink. Others came over time and I perfected the skills each gave me. If I touch a snake that was drawn on my left bicep, the fingers on my left hand would poison someone with a simple touch. Interesting things also happen if I touch to activate other tattoos like a ball of fire, a lightning bolt, or a skull.

Not all of my tattoos came with such simple On/Off switches. For some reason I still don't understand, the cartoonish angel and devil on opposite sides of my neck won't ever shut up. They each keep giving me their opinion ever time a decision must be made. Even when I don't ask for it. If only I knew how to get just one of them to shut up. The truly maddening part is that they have exactly opposite views of everything. One wants to turn left, the other wants to turn right. Sometimes I'm tempted to split the difference, keep going straight, and hit a wall. I used to wonder why my dad suggested I get them as my powers grew. These days I wonder why I actually listened to him this time.

I stroll into my favorite tattoo parlor and look around for something inspiring among all the samples on the walls. There was still some space between the wings inked on my shoulder blades that would let me fly around town. Maybe I could do something creative with a Hellhound. I could get something just for decoration this time...or not.

What tattoo would you get and what power would it gain you?  Leave a comment and let me know.

Coming Soon

A entire day spent waiting to see if I was going to be on the jury of a civil case and numerous days with very little sleep have all left me physically and mentally drained.  I simply don't have it in me to come up with a story for today's post.  So that I post more than a blank page, I will put up a preview of my next book. Post Exodus.  The wonderful folks at Amazing Things Press are currently giving the book a thorough round of editing before it gets released.  In the meantime, enjoy the introduction.

 Prologue

Excerpts and transcripts from media reports during and after construction of the Arks.

“Scientists from many disciplines and countries are predicting a tragedy that would mean the end to all humanity and a total end to all life on Earth. Numerous astronomers have sighted a large meteor on a collision course with the Earth....”

“Engineers from NASA, ESA, the Russian Space Agency, and CNSA have all come together to cooperatively design large ships that could carry thousands of people safely into deep space....”

“Protesters around the world have started demonstrations in countries that do not have their own space agencies or launch facilities. They are expressing concerns about their respective cultures being forgotten due to a lack of representation on the Arks.”

“A fleet of cargo ships carrying supplies and equipment arrived in the port of Ras al Khafji today. The shipments were made in order to build launch facilities in the Middle East. The international Ark Organization has stated they are doing this for two reasons. The first is to ferry laborers to the orbital construction platforms where the Arks are being built. The second reason is a show of appreciation for the drastic lowering of petroleum prices during this time of global crisis.”

“Protests have all but ceased as people from countries around the globe begin to move themselves into their cabins on the Arks. The only vocal group still clamoring to be heard is insisting that no human beings be left behind on Earth. They strongly feel that those who wish to stay be removed from their homes by force. A military General stated, on the record, that he would forcibly move those folks on the condition that the protesters give up their spaces on the Arks to make room. No response to this statement from the protesters has yet been made.....”

“Cheers could be heard around the world today at 7:00 am Greenwich Mean Time as the engines of all the Arks were simultaneously engaged. While there is still some work left to be completed before launch, the engines now make the Arks self sufficient and significantly closer to being ready for launch.”

“Welcome from the inaugural broadcast of the ArkNet, a news and information channel for the residents and crews of the Arks. The final Ark, named Argos, boarded the last of its resident passengers and sealed the outer doors to the living quarters just yesterday....”

“The first Ark to be officially completed, affectionately dubbed Noah, passed its final checks and has been certified as spaceworthy....”

“We are entering the final month of ArkNet. As the Arks continue to head out on their respective courses, the distances between them will continue to grow and require too much energy to maintain constant contact between us all. Before we start our farewells, there is a remarkable greeting that needs to be extended. The first confirmed child conceived on the Arks was born this morning. Rick and Julia Johnson of the Enterprise welcomed their son Kirk to our journey....”

A release date hasn't been set yet, but it should be soon.  When the big day is announced I will proudly display it on my Facebook page and Twitter feed.

The Tale of The Noah continues....

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get my story of the Noah completed in time to enter it in the science fiction contest I had planned on.  Real life reared its ugly head and interrupted my writing time too much.  The story itself also took on a life of its own that would not allow itself to be ended quickly.

I did go back and do a little editing to my previous entries in order to clarify a few things and correct a couple of mistakes.  I will update the previous posts with these edits by this time next week.  Word of these updates will be posted on my Facebook page.  In the meantime, here is a continuation of the story itself that I did manage to make despite interruptions, interferences, and power outages.

The majority of the crew of the Noah battleship waited patiently for a communication from Earth. Those that would be directly involved in the evacuation maintained their systems in a state of readiness. Others waited until their duties maintaining the environmental systems for the humans were required. While the environmental systems could be maintained automatically, the upkeep of a dry environment by a ship built for those that normally resided in oceans wasn't to be trusted to computers alone.

Darryl studied the interference patterns his cousin had emailed him. Without realizing how long he had been staring at the graphs and listening to the audio recordings, he finally got a grasp on what was before him. He rubbed his tired eyes, printed out a few key files and made a couple of notes, and carried everything to the dining hall. There he searched for one scientist in particular. This researcher had a hobby that involved numbers and multiple possible permutations and sequences. If anyone could figure out the details of what Darryl's cousin had sent him, it was a long-time D&D player and Game Master.

Darryl saw Alistair sitting alone eating with one hand and making notes on graph paper with the other. He approached the lone scientist with pages in hand. After a few minutes of discussion, Alistair looked away from his notes to the ones Darryl had presented. Looking over them briefly he stated, “It's simple. It's a base 12 encoding. Just different enough to our own base 10 to seem random unless someone is used to looking over numerical possibilities. I'm due to be back in the lab shortly. Once my shift is over, I will look over your notes and this signal and let you know if anything rises from the mists of confusion.”

Darryl thanked Alistair and grabbed a quick snack for himself from the buffet tables. He was due to start a work shift himself soon. As he was getting ready for the last few hours of his work shift, two pieces of news came to Darryl's attention almost simultaneously. Alistair had started to decode the information Darryl had given him earlier. While an exact translation was impossible, there were data components that could be easily interpreted. Alistair would meet with Darryl later with the information.

The second piece of news impacted the camp at large. The politicians had finally come up with a message to be broadcast to the Noah. The message accepted the help of the Noah in evacuating the planet, should they provide enough evidence that said evacuation was necessary. They also wanted to know the specifics of the plans for the evacuation so priorities could be made for getting more valued members of humanity safe first. There was no mention of how it would be determined which members of humanity were more valuable than others. The people that worked around the base were nearly unanimous in guessing that the politicians would form the head of the line. There was little to no mention of rescuing the non-human residents of the planet Earth. This came as no surprise to anyone that had worked with the politicians for more than five minutes.

The Noah received the message and excitement and activity both increased significantly as the crew prepared themselves for the evacuation plan. There was some confusion regarding the possibility of prioritizing the evacuation. The Noah felt that all life was equally important, regardless of how obvious or subtle their contribution to society may be. Because of this, their evacuation plan treated all the residents of Earth as equals and would evacuate them all at once. They were already scanning less intelligent lifeforms and comparing the results with their original scans when they originally transported everything to Earth. They looked for variations in DNA sequences that had crept in over numerous generations. This would allow them to simply update their files for reconstitution instead of collecting completely new DNA scans. There were a few new species that were descended closely enough to previously known species that an adjustment was all that would be required.

The Drag'kun battle fleet was primed for their attack. Designated crafts were starting to alter their course in order to intercept and attack the Noah battleship. The rest of the fleet would quickly enter Earth's atmosphere and begin razing major population centers. Panicking citizens would later be collected for enslavement. They would then be forced to extract usable materials from the wreckage of their own former homes and places of industry. Some would be given the ardous task of gathering raw minerals from the planet itself. There were no plans for stocking food or supplies for these slaves since they weren't expected to survive their duties.

Please leave a comment saying what you do or don't like about the story and where you think the story may go.

Population Control

Conspiracy theorists have been accusing various military and governmental entities of various programs to control their subjects.  Subliminal messaging, misinformation, and chemical mind control are just some of the methods suggested.

What if one such program was truly implemented?  A chemical compound that would make people suggestable without effecting their effectiveness.  The compound could be put in water supplies or foodstuffs.  People could then be lead to professions that would benefit the leadership without questioning why they were following such pursuits.  Civilians could be made to not question the actions of the military.

How would such a chemical be detected?  Would it be possible to stop such a program once it got started?  Is there any way of knowing it hasn't already begun?

The sergeant approached General Yatimo's office with a degree of apprehension. The folder in his hand contained information that nobody really wanted to see. It had the potential to shake up the entire Command Structure that had been in place for generations. One single fluctuation in a normally flat line of a graph could mean an end to everything their society had been developed to become. It wouldn't happen immediately, but the people that had detected the problem were more than happy to include projections for the end of all the peace they had enjoyed. While there wasn't anything General Yatimo could do, he and the other Leaders may be able to find some way to keep humanity from falling into the chaos that existed before The Program was instituted.

The sergeant nodded to the general's secretary. She had been calmly typing at her computer terminal when he entered the outer office. Because his duties included bringing regular reports to the general, she knew him well. However, today wasn't one of his regularly scheduled appearances. The information he carried couldn't wait the three days until he would normally deliver his reports.

The secretary gestured for the sergeant to have a seat. The sergeant ignores her suggestion and waits for her to make General Yatimo aware of his presence. She already knew the answer to the question but asked it anyway, “Do you have an appointment Jefferson?”

The sergeant's reply was completely flat. It carried none of the fear and apprehension he felt. There was also no sign of the joy he usually expressed at the few moments spent in the presence of the lovely woman. “No appointment this time. However, I have a report that has been flagged as Priority 1 Alpha. The general must see it immediately. The Leaders will be calling an emergency session this evening and he has to be prepared.”

No emotions altered or changed her face as she processed the meaning of what he had just said. “He is currently meeting with a civilian. They should be done in just a few minutes.” With that her attention returns to her computer terminal. She activates her headset and begins making calls. From what he can hear of her side of the conversation, she is canceling and rescheduling the general's appointments for the rest of the day. After the sergeant's meeting is complete, the general will probably have her clear his calendar for a much longer period of time.

The sergeant continues to stand and wait patiently for General Yatimo's earlier visitor to finish. The import of what he has to say make the few minutes seem to drag on for much longer. The general's office door finally opens and a diminutive older gentleman in common clothes emerges. The sergeant pays him no attention as he enters the office before the door closes behind the previous guest. The general is involved in something on his terminal, much like his secretary had been when the sergeant first arrived. The general becomes aware of the sergeant's presence when a folder is slapped down on his desk.

Without preamble the sergeant gives the general a headline that summarized the data in the report and its implications. “The Program is in trouble. An individual is developing a resistance. It is only a matter of time before all the peace we have enjoyed for so long comes to an end.”

General Yatimo sits stunned for a minute. He opens the folder and looks over the reports. He doesn't understand all of the technical language, but the summaries are enough for him to get the idea of what the scientists had to say. The sergeant explains as the general forms his own understandings of the situation.

“Testing of blood samples 'donated' last month show a decrease in the variable proteins associated with standard Program implementation. Similar levels were detected in a single sample last month, but it was deemed an error in testing. The increase in these variations since seem to indicate an expansion in resistance. This despite all the assurances there would be no resistance when The Program was first developed.”

Still getting over his initial shock and absorbing the data before him, General Yatimo asks the sergeant, “How widespread an area are we looking at?”

“Right now all of the people showing decreased protein levels are residents of a single small town Southern Nevada. No direct family connection has been found. They all work in different professions and eat and shop at different businesses. The only commonality between them all is the neighborhood in which they reside. More residents of the area are being 'encouraged' to visit their local blood donation centers so further samples can be collected. A similar program is being instituted in nearby towns and communities.”

The full meaning of the reports hits General Yatimo. He states a few facts the sergeant had realized and come to grips with on his way to deliver the information. “The decrease in the variable proteins means that people are building up a resistance to the control chemicals we've been feeding them for generations. An occurrence that shouldn't be possible. Civilian's minds will begin to think outside the parameters we set for them. They will behave as they did before The Program was initiated. The authority of The Leaders will erode as conspiracy theories grow and people question government and military policies.

“The source of this resistance must be found. Once we know how it is spread, we can stop it and eliminate anyone whose blood shows the decrease in protein levels. That should be sufficient to maintain our control over the population for centuries to come.”

The sergeant was reluctant to point out to General Yatimo the conclusions on the final page of the reports. There it was indicated the current resistance developing in the civilian population was due to the effects of nuclear tests decades ago in the desert near the small Nevada town. The effects of past military actions were hampering the future of that same military entity.

If you wanted to control the world, what method would you use?

Taking The Next Step

My first book, Dangerous Stars, was written, edited, and published by me.  Some friends and family members helped with reviews and suggestions, but there was no editing staff, interns, or executive assistants to do all of the menial work that comes after the creative process is finished.

Contracts have been signed and files transferred.  The wonderful folks at Amazing Things Press have agreed to the next steps for my new title, Post Exodus.  This means less physical work required of me to get the book released, but more effort once all of that is done.  Release parties, book signings, authors' gatherings, and other events will soon be filling my schedule.  I consider that a fair exchange.

The new book came from a simple question.  What if an apocolyptic event was predicted but never happened?  The majority of humanity was able to leave the Earth, but a few remained behind by choice.  Technology and major infrastructures were still intact, there just wasn't anyone to fill the space.

This is just a snapshot of how I think one small segment of civilization would change after the ultimate nothing happened.

 The door to the bedroom opened and a young woman entered just as I was feeling myself again. She had long hair of a light golden color. Her face was circular in shape without appearing puffy or pudgy. She had a classic beauty that was accentuated by a faint tan from working many hours in the sun.

She had on a simple dress with a white apron on over it. The apron had some small stains on it that appeared to be from being worn while cooking many meals between washings. In one hand she carried a bowl full of something steaming and a pitcher of water was in the other. Her voice was gentle and smooth. “I see you are awake. It probably isn't a good idea to try and get up too fast. It looked like you had a rather hard knock on your head when my brother found you coming back from collecting firewood. We tended to your wounds and kept you warm in the hopes you would heal.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Not very long. My aunt found you early in the afternoon the day before yesterday. My sisters and I brought you here that evening and started bandaging your cuts and scrapes. This is the most awake and talkative you've been since then.”

“What about my bike? Did you leave it by the log I hit?”

“No. We figured you were doing something important by the way you were traveling. My sister brought your bike back while the rest of us carried you. It will need some repairs before you can travel any further though.”

“How bad is the damage?”

“Some cosmetic scrapes, about like you really. However, the front tire is severely dented and the handlebars are bent. Any other alignment damage would be up to you to find. You probably won't be able to find any replacement parts here, but there is a small town about a day's walk north that should have anything you need.”

“Thank you for all that you and your family have done.”

“You are most certainly welcome. Now, it's time for you to have something to eat. This is a thick broth that we've been carefully spooning you since you got here. Would you like me to feed you again, or do you think you are up for doing it yourself?”

I'm not sure, but her tone of voice when offering to feed me seemed to hint that there was more than food being offered. “Thank you, but I think I would like to try to feed myself. See how much of my strength I have back.”

“Okay. It shouldn't be too hot to eat right away. I didn't realize you would be awake so I let it cool before bringing it up.

She set the bowl down on the nightstand next to the bed. Reaching underneath the bed itself, she pulled out a tray and set it on my lap as I positioned myself more completely on the bed. Once I was settled, she placed the bowl on the tray and pulled a spoon from a pocket of her apron. The soup was rather thick and creamy. It had a cheesy flavor with a hint of garlic. There was also a mixture of other flavors I couldn't quite name. There didn't seem to be any chunks of meat or pieces of vegetable in the soup. The soup's thickness and lack of other ingredients explained how it could be safely fed to someone unconscious without running the risk of the patient choking. The texture reminded me of a potato chowder my mother was fond of making.

The young woman pulled a glass from the drawer in the nightstand. She filled it with water in the pitcher she had brought in with her. “It is a blend of helpful herbs in a cheese soup that comes from an old family recipe. We make it thick enough to fill the stomach during a long convalescence. It's good enough we eat it as part of our regular meals now and then. Goes well with a bread we make ourselves and some of the pork we trade with nearby farms for.”

“It is quite good. I thank you for taking care of me and providing me with this fine meal. Once I am up and around again, is there anything I can do for you?”

“From all the letters in your vest, I guessed you are a messenger. We really don't have much need for you since our family is all on nearby farms. Since you will still be healing for another day or so, I will talk to the others and see if they can think of some way for you to repay us. Is there anything else you would like me to do for you?”

Between spoonfuls of the wonderful soup, I thought about her offer. Once again her tone suggested an invitation for something more than simple assistance. “The only other thing I would like while I'm here is the saddlebags that were on the back of my bike. Would it be possible for you to ….”

I suddenly felt extremely exhausted. I was way too weary for the amount of energy expended since I woke up, even taking into account my injuries. I barely heard the spoon clatter into the empty bowl as I fell back against the pillow and fell hard asleep. I will never be sure if what I heard as I passed out was her actually speaking or just my imagination. “You sleep now, we will see if you can give us what we want.”

When a release date is set, I will post it here and on my Twitter feed.  Until then, there is more work to be done.

The Noah Push On

Despite my best efforts, the story of the Noah inspired by a tweet from Lar DaSouza won't leave me alone.  Similarities between certain aspects of humanity in reality and those in fiction are being drawn.  The individual human characters are beginning to become fleshed out.  While not featured here, the cruelties the Drag'kon are capable of is starting to become more severe in my mind.  

This entire tale is taking on more of a life than I thought it ever would.  Maybe I should get it a birth certificate and start claiming it as a dependent.

The Noah ship was picking up faint signals from the assembled device they had left behind on Earth so many centuries ago. There was no coherent message, but the fact a signal was being broadcast was encouraging. The communications panels were double staffed on all shifts in anticipation of the need to send messages back and forth between the ship and the planet. This meant personnel had to be diverted from other duties. The captain and other officers all agreed that, given their location and situation, it was deemed sufficient to have one individual cover both sensor scan reports and engineering monitors. Both systems were expected to be a low priority for some time. The engines were in a low power cruise mode until a response from Earth prompted acceleration to a higher speed for the rescue effort. Since the Drag'kon weren't expected to arrive for some time, there shouldn't be any changes in the reports from standard system scans. Unfortunately this meant a series of ionic fluctuations passing near Saturn were missed by someone who was looking at engine temperatures at that moment.

The politicians were doing what they seemed to be experts at, arguing. Their entire responsibility was to compose a message from all the peoples of Earth. In quick order, they had agreed to accept whatever help the Noah had to offer. However, the issue of a planetary evacuation would be tabled until such a time as the presence, or even the existence, of the Drag'kon could be proven. It was the composition and content of the message that was being thoroughly discussed. Each figure felt writers from their homeland should be featured in the message. Initial sections and passages were developed and compromises made. Later segments would be introduced, and accepted only if words that had been agreed upon earlier were changed. This entire process was repeated and repeated until it was the subject of numerous comedian monologues and bets were being placed with Las Vegas odds-makers. If any of them knew the importance of information that was only now coming to light, they would put their differences aside and urge the Noah to hurry and save all of humanity.

Darryl had finally sorted through most of his personal emails despite numerous interruptions from scientific inquiries regarding his discovery of the alien device's nature. While he couldn't offer any additional technical insights, it was his ability to recognize patterns and familiarity with the Noah's broadcast that made him a celebrity around the frozen base. Now that he finally had a few minutes to himself, he could see what his cousin was so interested in that she felt he should know about it and not her superiors at NASA. The message was rather brief. She had picked up something strange in the data relays from robotic probes on Mars. The bulk of the email was attachments of data files and transcripts of the data streams with the strange interruptions. Darryl's cousin just asked if it was possible he could share the information with one of the scientists on the base. She had no idea how many of them would be willing to look at pretty much anything he put before them.

Behind their stealth tech and maneuvers, the Drag'kon were monitoring the Noah closely and positioning themselves for battle. Shield generators were charged and ready to be activated. Photonic energy weapons were primed. Electromagnetic pulse devices were loaded into their tubes for launching into the Earth's atmosphere. Attack patterns and contingency plans were formed and entered into the combat computers. All of this was accomplished as Saturn's rings shrank in the view from behind the fleet and Jupiter grew before them. The level of excitement from the pending battle, regardless of how one-sided it seemed, was on a constant rise.

Leave a comment and let me know if you think, once the story is done, it should be developed and edited into its own book for publication.

Time has come....

Time has been a part of tales and stories as long as people have been passing tales from one generation to the next.  Rip Van Winkle could be said to be the first time traveler, although his trip was accidental and unfortunately only in one direction.  Since then, many other authors and story tellers have explored the options of moving back and forth through the passages of Time itself.  Some books have been about a single person exploring the past and future, others about groups large and small making the trip across the temporal borders that separate today from yesterday and tomorrow.  Entire entertainment franchises have been built around making trips through time itself and the unique perks and problems these trips involve.

Thanks in part to modern physicists like Einstein and Hawking, a tool for modern authors exists that can make time travel more feasible and technological.  Approaching the speed of light would alter the flow of time one experiences in relation to those moving through the universe at a more mundane pace.  As one travels at speeds approaching the speed of light, time would move more slowly for the traveler than for those at home.  This takes place today.  Some satellites in orbit travel at such a high rate of speed, their clocks must be periodically reset or they would go out of sync with ground control.

With this in mind, it is entirely possible for a living "time capsule" to be developed.  Something like the discs loaded on the Voyager, a ship with a small crew and filled with cultural data could be set on a course to deep space and back to Earth at an extremely high rate of speed.  This would allow them to share modern viewpoints with anthropologists and researchers hundreds of generations down the road.  Imagine how much more we as a society might know if members of some of the lost civilizations like the Mayans, the Moai builders of Easter Island, or the residents of the temple in Angkor Wat were still around today to explain how they viewed their worlds.

I make this recording as a part of the permanent log of the spacecraft Hartnell as a part of "Operation: Van Winkle."  We were about two-thirds of the way through a mission with very simple parameters.  All we had to do was accelerate to a speed that approached the speed of light, coast for a few years, then return to Earth and quickly decelerate.  There we would share with the population the shared knowledge, values, and societal norms of the planet we left.  While just over a couple of decades would have passed for us, numerous generations would have passed for those back home.  Our crew would be the first time capsule that could explain the importance of the past to those that "dug it up."

The 50 members of the crew all had experience in multiple disciplines including electronics, engineering, communications, biology, and even some linguistics.  Over the first few relative of the 25 we were away from Earth, we all shared our knowledge with each other.  This was done for two reasons.  One was intentional, to make each one of us a backup contingency in case one or more members of the crew fell to some unexpected illness.  In the beginning, it also gave us something to do to fill the endless hours as our ship accelerated through empty space.  Nothing more was required of us than double checking our position and course and ensuring the environmental systems were still functioning.  All of the members of the crew were selected for their patience and ability to remain focused despite numerous possible distractions.

One major advantage of our "cargo" was the nearly endless supply of entertainment in a multitude of languages and genres.  Mornings would be spent performing simple maintenance on the ship and its systems.  Books, movies, and music we consumed during most afternoons, depending on the preference of the individual or plans for later.  Debates and discussions filled the evenings.  Comparisons were made between comedic movies from Korea and Japan.  The progression of science fiction in relation to actual scientific advances was a topic of many conversations.  Even the definition, content, and distribution of pornography made for more than a couple nights' late night topics.  In order to further clarify what we had for future generations, we recorded ourselves so that our words could be added to the library of culture that was to be shared.

The last 16 years had taught us a lot about each other and the shared history of all of humanity.  There was still enough for us to learn even more over the next 9 years.  Even the relative isolation from other crew members forced on us by the rapid deceleration during the last year and a half of our trip will be filled with final log entries, summaries of our explorations into our "cargo," and attempts to communicate with the current residents of Earth.  As much as we could hope that records of our existence would last hundreds of years, none of us really expected that to be the case.

Time capsules have been buried for all kinds of lengths of time in all manner of containers and places.  Why not one for all of humanity in space?

When you think of time travel, what is the first franchise that comes to mind?  Leave a comment and let me know.

When will the Noah arrive?

Stories can be outlined and planned in extreme detail.  Even so, they tend to grow organically.  Characters that were planned to be a utility in the background can become major players in the plot.  Items and inanimate objects that appear important at first may fall by the side without a clue.  All of this is a natural part of the story writing process.  Just as life can change plans in the real world, a fictional world can develop a life of its own and alter the original plans of the author.  A good tale is one that balances the author's first intentions with the wild growth of the tale itself.

The young technician was having difficulty getting any of her superiors to take note of the signal she had found.  Some said the signal was too short and couldn't be anything more than a simple distortion.  Another informed her that the Noah had transmitted their initial signal in many languages of Earth, therefore her signal couldn't be anything because it was too alien in nature.  He pointed the nearly random nature of the signal further showed it was simply a natural phenomenon.  She was escorted out of his office before she was unable to point out the base 6 encoding he has missed that made the signal appear random to anyone used to seeing data in patterns of base 8 or 10.  Anyone else that she felt would understand what she had was either in Antarctica or at a dedicated research station in communication with Antarctica.  She would have to find a way to get the data she had into the hands of someone closer to the South Pole.

In the cold at the bottom of the Earth, a small discovery had been made.  The varying artifacts that had been scattered around the planet as proof of their former presence could all be joined into one object.  When combined, the object seemed to modify electromagnetic signals nearby and give off a new signal.  The new signal was the same, regardless of the frequency or type of signal present.  AM radio signals, VHF television broadcasts, and digital data transmissions were all apparently detected, modified, and transmitted again as the same signal.  Through much experimentation it was discovered that the only variation in the new signals was one of strength.  Each retransmission was slightly stronger than the original broadcast.  However, an inability to understand the signal the object transmitted meant the scientific minds were still stumped as to its purpose.

A studious officer on duty in the communications building happened to discover something the scientists had all missed.  Each time there was a test on the strange object, he picked up a signal similar to the Noah's that lasted the exact duration of the test, but much weaker and locally sent.  He recognized the nature of the alien transmissions from reports and recordings he had been studying in his off duty hours.  After detecting a week's worth of tests, the officer took his readings and the detailed reports of earlier signals from the aliens to a group of scientists having some food in one of the common buildings.  They quickly understood what he was trying to show them.  They took this new information to the laboratories without finishing their meals.  There was finally a way to directly communicate with the Noah.  Now it was up to the diplomats and numerous governmental representatives to come up with a message to send.  Hopefully there would still be time for the Noah to help humanity when the politicians reached a consensus.

When the officer returned to his quarters, he was in a good mood and decided to read some of his personal emails.  He found one from a cousin of his that worked for NASA, and she was asking him for a favor.  He would read the rest of that one later.  His sister was due to have a new baby any day now and he had a pool going with some of his comrades that involved the new baby's birth weight and time.  There was an email from his mother that could have some interesting news.

A number of Drag'kon attack craft quickly approached the orbit of Uranus.  They were still undetected by the single Noah craft.  None of the technology on Earth was capable of seeing them approach before they wanted to be seen.  The captains were all anxious about the pending battle, but visibly relaxed.  A number of the weapons personnel were salivating at the thought of a fight, even when not at their stations.  The lower ranks working in the bowels of the ship were only aware of their ever present duties, in battle or traveling between systems didn't change anything for them.

I will admit that certain connections have appeared in this segment that I didn't really expect.  The relation between the communications officer and the technician that discovered the Drag'kon was completely unplanned.  It does add a possible tool that can be utilized in more than one way later as well as a possible wrinkle to add a touch of drama if needed.

How can the Noah help?

This is another installment in the saga of the alien race known as the Noah.  I know where I want this story to go, just not real sure how I want to get there.

The evidence of the Noah's existence and nature had all been located and brought to the representatives of the countries in which the items were found. Through much discussion and debate, a neutral location was chosen for the items to be brought together and examined. A place where further debates can be made without any one country having a home turf advantage. Each representative would have two security personnel and a scientific adviser with them. The small number in each party was determined to balance the size from each nation and not overtax the limited resources readily available at the chosen location. The lack of native population, military presence, or cultural influence meant that Antarctica would be an ideal meeting place for both international and interstellar guests despite the harsh environment.

Shelters were set up for each group to participate in their respective activities. The scientists shared notes on the items that had been found, their theories regarding the materials the items were made of, and possible methods for translating the strange script engraved on them. The various governmental representatives met in small committees that attempted to establish proper protocols and priorities for future meetings. Very little was said about the signal that had brought them all together. Off duty security personnel simply lounged around and discussed various travels they had been on and former comrades that had been lost to one foe or another, sometimes speaking with the fatal individual themselves. Mere weeks had passed since the Noah's signal had first been detected and received. Most of the world's population assumed that bringing all of these differing people together so fast meant they could quickly come up with a solution to the problem of the Drag'kun that would benefit everyone. Two things nobody realized was how long it would really take the politics to get anything accomplished and that the two year deadline mentioned by the Noah was an overestimation.

While all the talking, discussing, and theorizing was happening, the Noah continued approaching the Earth. They finally settled in an orbit slightly larger than that of the moon. They monitored military, civilian, and commercial communications frequencies with much intensity. Partly out of their natural curiosity for the residents of this planet, and partly out of a hope for a reply to their initial broadcast. All of their attention was focused on the blue planet below and, with the help of its residents, protecting as much of the population as possible.

The Drag'kun scout probe continued on its path, approaching the fourth planet of the system and keeping it between them and the Noah battleship as they begin their arc away from the sun. The captain of the craft closely watches the occupied planet and the other ship to ensure they aren't detected as he begins to transmit a directed signal to the fleet. His estimation was that a medium sized attack force would be sufficient. The only real opposition would come from the Noah battleship. The planet itself couldn't raise more than a few simple nuclear missiles that were best suited for harming the planet itself. No real threat to a force in orbit.

Technological rewards would be at a minimum, but natural resources would more than make up for the lack of usable parts to replace damaged ship components. The significant amount of slave labor the prominent intelligent species offered would keep the captains of all the attacking ships more than satisfied. If nothing else, all the animal species of the planet could be used to replenish food stores through the majority of the fleet.

All of this was transmitted from the scout pod to the Drag'kun in charge of the large fleet. The signal was sent in a series of small, quick bursts to minimize the chances of detection and interception by anyone else. This procedure was followed despite the small chance that anyone else in the system even knew they were there.

By the time the scout ship rejoined them, the attackers would be done with their efforts and splitting whatever spoils they obtained amongst themselves. He knew there would be some rewards for him and his crew, but the best choices would be kept by the attacking captains for their own enjoyment.

Unbeknownst to the captain, a small robotic probe on the red planet below the Drag'kun craft and its orbiting relay satellite operated on a frequency complimentary to the one the scout captain used. The satellite picked up the transmission and automatically relayed it to monitoring station. Only a single person noticed the odd signal embedded in the usual feed from the scientific instruments of the robot. It suddenly struck her that she was looking at another signal from an alien species. With all the top scientists in Antarctica, could she get anyone's attention? Would they understand what this other signal meant? Did she understand what it meant?

Once again, to be continued.....

On a side note, my calendar is in the shop so I should have the next post up on Wednesday as promised, not Thursday.