It was 2 A.M. local time. Local time at IND Hyatt on the planet Baltimore in the system Maryland, I was at the spaceport bar. It was gloomy and damp due to the humidity which even at that late hour was staggering. I had the place to myself except for the barkeep and the jazz trio at the other end of the room, who had been belting out some old jazz tunes for four or five hours now. Couldn't they give a guy a break? I hate jazz. I was considering drawing my Smith & Wesson model 4500 O.D. 2 1/4 laser pistol and terminally ending their careers when I was interrupted in my thoughts by the barkeep. Maybe I'd end his career, too.
"Hey, buddy, ya wanna sit here . . . ya got to order a drink."
"Milk," I said. "In a dirty glass" I drawled. I didn't want him to think I wasn't tough. Actually, it was a drink I learned about from David Addison whom I had had a couple of rounds with earlier. He said he drinks it all the time. 'Milk, breath wimp.' I thought.
I started thinking about the days events and who I'd seen. Some of the greatest names in the Periphery and the Transhole. Most importantly, I thought about who I had seen standing around and who they were with.
Again my thoughts were interrupted as a figure loomed up on my left and sat down.
"Mind if I sit here?" he asked. I thought a second and finally placed him. It was Gumby. Minister Hyram, the new governor of EEM Casablanca, had hired him as a bodyguard for his wife, Beth. Just then, the barkeep walked up and said, "Wadda ya have?"
"I'1l have what he's having,'' said Gumby. The barkeep looked at him strangely but didn't say anything. Of course, you might look at a seven foot tall green humanoid shaped like an eraser that a kid in first grade might use with some trepidation, also. The name doesn't help him any. Sometimes I wondered about Hyram's wisdom.
"I heard you were shipping out to check up on the rumored invasion of SMS Avarice by the DTN," Gumby said.
"That's right. I'm planning to kick ass and take names."
"Why don't you let the IMPs do it?" he asked.
"Because DiGriz seems to be spending a lot or time with the RIP and the PDC, and everyone knows that the only good part of the IMP services are the buxom lasses in the ISS!
"Well, what are you getting out of this?" Gumby asked.
"A shot at the Buxom lasses in the ISS!" I said, the milk finally going to my head.I guess I should lay off the hard stuff.
"Speaking of buxom lasses, I'd thought you'd be off carousing", Gumby said. "I started to but I was with Minister Fubar of SMS Aborn. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite of legal drinking age and so he got bounced. He threatened to post the bouncers but they just laughed at us. So, I came back here."
Gumby got up. "Good luck, Calahan, Just in case you don't make it back, what's in this drink?"
"PDC Passion," I said. "I hear Dirty Harry of the PDC Make My Day drinks it," Gumby left and I was about to do the same.However, I paused on the way back to my ship, the EEM Harm's Way long enough to shoot the piano.
This meeting of the regularly scheduled weekly briefing session of the colony EEM Romulus will be called to order. Let the records show that attending are:
Lord Jaxom, Colony Governor
Rodrick Blaine, Romulus Director of Production
Major Jerry Savage, Commander of Romulus Security BNs
General Casca Longinus, EW GP#188 'Catamounts'
Anne McCafrrey, Recording Secretary and Staff Assistant
Unable to attend are:
George Patton, EEM GP#160, Transportation
LTC John Christian Falkenberg, Training
"Let's dispense with the reading of the last meeting and get down to business, said Lord Jaxom,
"Right: monkey business," indicated Rod Blaine. "PARTY"
"Everyone is always talking that," said Miss McCaffrey.
"Tobias Webster,- said Major Savage.
"What do you mean 'Tobias Webster'?" said Jaxom.
"He'll be at the party," said Major Savage. "He'll be helping the TSL haul their hulls to Hypso."
"Boss," said Rod. I didn't tell you he was picking up hulls, as I didn't want to alarm you."
"Isn't it bad enough that we have Downing and David Addison scheduled to be here? Now you tell me that Webster will be here, also."
"It's okay," said Anne. "Rod ordered an extra supply of Jello and goat food."
"Goat food? I thought goats ate anything."
"What goat?"
"Can we barbaque it?"
"Can we sell tickets to process servers?"
"Quiet!!!"
"Forget it, it's bad news--what else."
"Sir, we caught one of the staff members selling front row tickets to the Wet T-shirt contest," indicated Rod.
"I think we should promote that person, said Jaxom. "As soon as he pays us our cut--call it seating tax."
"The man's name is Pawnbroker and it appears that several SMS starcaptains have asked for advanced seating AND have been paying in advance with 20% added for front row seats."
"Well, at least the SMS is not so dumb after all."
"We expect to have all hull contracts finished by Week 38," indicated Rod, "Then, we can determine if we will be accepting new contracts and the prices."
"Wait a minute," roared Casca. "I still have several members of the Catamounts in LBJ jail. If I have to provide escort to Tobias in addition to Addison, I will need them back."
"Might as well. They can't do any more damage than the TSL will do when they are here."
"Sir," said Major.Savage. "The captain of the Normandy Beach has indicated an interest in coming back into port and he has indicated he will be bringing some T-Ore as an offering."
"Fine-- one more bunch of jerks can't make any difference now," said Jaxom. "We can always use the ore. But you let them know there will be no more 'Morris Jokes'."
"New business," indicated Anne (always trying to keep the discussions in line). "We have a complaint from the governor of SMS Eklas, a Mr. Mac-something or other. he's complaining about our rec complex called the 'House of the Rising Sun'" something about franchise. It's hard to make out -- either he doesn't write too well or it's in some foreign language,"
"You must remember, Anne, when you deal with SMS governors, they always write with their crayon in their mouths. I don't know anything about a House franchise or any scruffy-looking nerf herder having any claim on that name. Perhaps he listens to good music, also. Besides, since ours has been here for years I am sure he just copied ours. Ignore him and he'll go away. Or sober up first," said Lord Jaxom. "However, if they want to come and visit the best rec complex in the galaxy, then they are always welcome to be here. I only hope they come before Addison, Webster and Downing--otherwise the girls will be too tired to give the complete treatment."
"Lord Jaxom," interrupted General Longinus, "I have been in touch with Major Savage and due to the large number of ships expected during the party, I suggest that we not use the drunk tank at the starport security this time, I feel that it will get too crowded. I suggest that you authorize the Catamounts to, just dump them at the ramp of their respective ships instead,"
"Agreed." said Jaxom, "Let's get this over with, I have a hot date with my wife tonight. The only thing I have to contribute now is that there will be lots of armed ships in the patrol squadron and Commodore Clouddancer will be handling that. He is on the way to Hypso right now to be upgraded,"
"Dismissed,"
SMS Comte, headquarters colony of Stellar Mining and Smelting, had seen many strange sights and had been host for crew shore leave from ships of all affiliations. By now, you would think the residents of Comte would have become used to seeing many different modes Of dress, But there was something about the captain and crew of the SMS Renunciate that attracted attention, Perhaps it was the firm set of the jaw, the tough muscular frames or the jeweled longknife hanging from each one's neck. Perhaps it was just the fact that they were all incredibly beautiful women. Nonetheless, attract attention they did as the group of more than twenty renunciates dressed in SMS black and red made their way toward Comte's taverns from the starport where they had just landed.
Leading the way to a discrete pub named the Black Mare, Lt, Cmdr, Kyla Raineach
distributed
stellars
to each of her crewmembers, Kyla was well respected for her ability to command
and for treating everyone fairly. Add to that the code of the Guild of
Renunciates which provided for the guaranteed payment of any debt incurred
by a Sister and it is no wonder that the Proprietor of the Black Mare welcomed
them with a broad smile, "
Welcome, welcome, welcome, sisters, you are most welcome in this humble establishment," the portly matron of the Black Mare greeted them. "What is your pleasure today? Some wine? Perhaps a sweet liquor?"
Kyla's expression soured slightly, "Thank you for your welcome, sister, As for a drink, make mine a Capellan Mind blaster."
The mistress of the Black Mare, momentarily shocked by Kyla's order of one of the strongest drinks legally available, quickly recovered and collected similar orders from the other Renunciates. Kyla and her crew received their drinks and moved to the back of the tavern to several unoccupied tables.
Kyla surveyed the other occupants of the pub. Many were dressed in SMS black and red as might be expected here at Comte. Kyla noted no women amongst the other SMS. Women, especially members of the Guild of Renunciates, were not common amongst the group of proud, hardy miners known as the SMS. There were also some GTT, PDC, USS, SSL and Imperials. Over to one side of the tavern was a small delegation of humanoids with yellowish Skin and six fingers. Kyla knew from experience that they were Qumans and not to be bothered.
A somewhat rotund man dressed in PDC blue but with the interesting addition of a small creature Sitting on his shoulder came swaggering over to where the Renunciates were sitting. "Say, sweetie, Whadya say we tango?" he leered at Kyla.
Camilla, Executive Officer aboard the SMS Renunciate and a little protective of her commander rose to her full 6'8" height and growled in her most threatening tone: "Go away little man or you'll find out why we wear these knives."
Okay, darlin'," he replied, backing off from the group. "Just thought I'd do you a favor and give you a chance at a taste of heaven, "
Camilla laughed heartily. "With you? I'd sooner be friendly with a Flagritz," She laughed again and sat dow as the entire group laughed at the man whose face was turning as red as the lobster like Flagritz.
Kyla noticed the time and rose to leave. "I've got to see if I can get in to talk to the Exploration Coordinator. Remember, we lift off in three Tus. CamiLla, make sure everybody stays out of trouble. Melora, come with me. Everyone else enjoy yourselves."
Kyla swiftly left the Black Mars with Melora, Kyla's Computer Officer and Navigator, following close behind. Melora had known Kyla a long time. When Kyla was in her last year at the Imperial Space Academy, Melora was a teaching assistant in the computer operations lab. Melora had helped Kyla master the complexities of programming th navicomp and then had been Impressed to find Kyla suggesting radical improvements in the design and operation of the navicomp itself, So when Kyla asked Melora to accompany her to the Capellan Periphery, she couldn't refuse. Kyla was one of a kind, and her friend,
Kyla and Melora found their way to the SMS Headquarters office complex and strode quickly dorm the hushed marble halls towards the coordinator's offices, Melora almost slipped on a slimey trail leading off to the right towards the office of Periphery Director Fores. "Morlock Ambassador must be here," noted Kyla and Melora nodded, stepping carefully away from the slime trail. The slug-like Morlocks ought to clean up their trails behind them, Melora thought to herself.
As they entered the corridor leading to the SMS Exploration Coordinator's office, they were greeted by a smiling receptionist, "Good afternoon. May I help you?"
"I am Lt, Cmdr, Kyla Raineach Of the SMS Renunciate. I need to speak with the Exploration Coordinator,"
"I'm sorry but the Exploration Coordinator isn't in today. Would you like to make an appointment?"
"My ship is leaving soon and I need to speak with someone about an exploration mission"
"Perhaps Lt. Cmdr. Hanover Fist, the Scouts Commander, could help you. Would you like to see him?"
"Yes, thank you. That would be fine."
"One moment please." The receptionist turned to a small vid screen and signalled another Office, then turned back to Kyla. "The Commander will see you now," she said, indicating an unmarked door off to the left.
As Kyla and Melora entered the room, Kyla thought for a moment they had walked into a closet by mistake. The room was exceedingly small for an office and what Space there was seemed to be piled high with reams of computer printouts, maps charts, and hyperwave communications from ships. In the midst of all this printed matter sat a rather good looking man with his feet propped up on a small desk. He was leafing through a stack of reports and looked up as they entered.
"Hello," he greeted them, extending his hand to shake theirs. "I'm Hanover Fist but you can call me Han, What can I do for you?"
Kyla quickly sized up this Scouts Commander. He was tall, well built, somewhat rough-hewn and tanned; he had obviously seen many a world and had an air of quiet confidence about him that Kyla found appealing. He appeared genuinely friendly and she noticed his quick appraisal of them, Here was a man she could be very, very friendly towards without fear of being patronized. Kyla decided immediately that she liked him.
"I'm Lt. Cmdr. Kyla Raineach of the SMS Renunciate. This is Melora, my Computer Officer and Navigator. My ship has completed outfitting for exploration and we will be heading out toward the Detero system to do some exploration. I wanted to notify the Exploration Coordinator, but he doesn't appear to be in, so I'm telling you.
"Unfortunately," replied Hanover Fist, "the Exploration Coordinator never seems to be in. All of this," he said, indicating the stacks of paper surrounding him, is exploration information received from various sources which is still to be sifted through and catalogued," He sighed resignedly. "Thank you for reporting in and be sure to forward data to this office on a regular basis. Is there anything else?"
"I thought perhaps," Kyla began, "That you might have something in particular you would like for us to do out near the Detero System."
"As a matter of fact," Han replied, sifting through one of the stacks on his tiny desk, "if you don't mind taking a look at a couple of items in the Casven system," he said, handing a sheet of paper to Kyla.
Kyla quickly scanned the short list of planetary bodies, colonies and space hazards, "No problem," she said.
Later, the SMS Renunciate departed SMS Comte starport at maximum thrust, moved beyond the gravity well of the planet and jumped first to the Rampant system, then to the Barque system and finally to the Detero system. After a boring six days in jump transit between systems, even the sight from space of the black, craterous surface of Nangron cheered the crew. Kyla wasn't so cheered, though. She knew how dangerous Nangron really was and did not welcome the sight of this dark, ominous ball in space. The Renunciate landed at SMS Thorlia's meager starport on Nangron, unloaded some supplies for the struggling colony, then lifted off once again. Although the starport shielded visiting ships from the black dust covering the surface of the planet, Kyla always feared that some of the dust might get past the shielding. This would cause the ship's jump engines to explode which would result in structural damage to the ship. Kyla breathed a sigh of relief to be safely away from there.
The Detero system was composed largely of inhospitable planets. From black Nangron to icy Pedero to dusty Tener to inimical bee-inhabited Hive, Detero was not a nice place. The planet Fredrick however, was fairly nice even though it had its own set of deadly inhabitants. Several large colonies had been established on Fred rick over the years, providing a ready market for goods of all kinds.
Kyla and the crew of the Renunciate being members of the SMS were to survey the six moons of Fredrick to determine if any reasonably successful mining operations could be established there. Using the Geologic Probability Indicator and the ship's sensors and planet probes, they quickly scanned each of the moons to determine which one offered the greatest probability of having a mineable metals deposit. Pulling into orbit of the second moon, two shuttles were launched to conduct exploration of the surface. Kyla had placed Chief Geologist Rafaella in charge of One of the shuttles and Assistant Geologist Jandria in charge of the other. The two ground parties would spend the next several weeks exploring, locating deposits, and mapping the surface of the moon.
Since there was little else for the crew still on board the Renunciate to do for now, Kyla ordered a new course for the Casven system. Again, the SMS Renunciate moved away from the gravity well of the planet and jumped into another system. The Casven system had been explored thoroughly by the SMS long ago but in the transition between various coordinators, much Of this data was lost. Moving quickly from one planetary body to another the crew of the Renunciate gathered preliminary survey data and transmitted it back to SMS HQ. A moon of a particular gas giant caught Kyla's interest as it seemed to have a high reading of thorlium, Kyla ordered a closer survey of the moon with the ship's sensors and GPI, but found no indication of anything worthwhile.
Returning to the Detero system, the SMS Renunciate picked up its two ground parties and Kyla went over their survey findings, Lots of deposits were found, but none that could be efficiently mined. Nothing else of interest at all; no indication of life, no rare or valuable ores no alien artifacts. In all, the whole project was a bust. Well, at least we now know there's nothing here of interest, thought Kyla. And, she thought slyly, this may give me an opportunity to meet once again with that very attractive Hanover Fist.
"Make course for Comte," Kyla ordered and the crew's spirits brightened appreciably, Kyla settled back in her captain's chair and thought to herself, 'Exploring for the SMS is like that--you never know when or if you're going to make a big find, but one thing's for sure, there's always some place to look, something to do, or some person to meet that makes you look forward to the coming week."
DEAR MADDIE: I think my starcaptain is in love with me. Whenever I enter the bridge, he rushes over to talk with me. He assigns me to all his shifts. He constantly compliments me on my hair and clothes. He's always dropping around for a drink. He follows me around on shore leave. He is constantly making lewd suggestions. I truly think he is in love with me. What do you think? Ens. Lovestruck
DEAR LOVESTRUCK: To be honest with you, I think it is all in your imagination, Send him over to my place so I can have a talk with him. MADDIE
Captain Robert Downing was just beginning to open his eyes when his ship's steward came to the bridge.
"Sir, bad news, Sir. It seems that Garfield has finished off the last of the sampoon you've been using to practice for the Romulus party."
As his head started throbbing, Captain Downing thought for a moment. "Why didn't you stop him?"
"Sir, no one gets near garfield, even to feed him. Only you can touch that animal without getting your hand snapped off."
"Yes, I see what you mean." Captain Downing was looking at his favorite pet, a 200 pound vicious-looking Kazerick with six limbs- two of which had the most nasty-looking claws attached to them. His pet was just lifting hos head from the barrel he was finishing.
"I don't think I would be getting between him and the sampoon either. However, If I'm to beat that jerk Addison at Romulus, I must keep up my practice. Therefore, you should start serving me Beeretto Floats instead."
"Sir," said the steward, "what is a Beeretto Float?"
"It's Ameretto Beer and ice cream."
"Uh, sir, what kind of ice cream?"
"Vanilla, of course. Nobody but a loud-mouthed uncouth buffoon would use anything else."
"Yes, sir. I'll get one right away."
With that, Capt. Downing tried to get his eyes to focus on the instrument panel so he could determine where he and his ship were going.
Hyperion Rage and his men had never seen anything like it, nor would they be likely to witness it again.
As they approached the asteroid, Tiger, O'Dwyer began picking up readings of an uncharted moon also in the same sector.
As the Hunter's Moon drew within visual range, it quickly became obvious why this moon was not on the charts. The entire crew gaped at the monitors which displayed the hulking shape of the alien T-Snit, the largest of its class.
"Don't the Imperials run T-Snit?" said Jim Beam.
"About two months ago O'Brien took both Castle Amber and Kalamazoo," said Connors.
"But how could he operate...?"
"Lady Retief, the governor of Castle Amber, is working with O'Brien."
"The Retiefs are Imperials; they have been for decades," mused Hyp.
Connors pointed to the front monitor. "Hey, I don't arrange these things. Just look for yourself."
As they approached to within a small sector of the alien moonship, the sensors began picking up small blips running between Effluvium and the entrance port of the Snit.
"They appear to be smaller than a starship," said O'Dwyer. "Probably shuttles."
"I'm getting a signal from Effluvium's tower," said Wasylenko. "They're telling us to come on in. Docking Bay 12," the radioman said to McNellis, the helmsman.
The Hunter's Moon began its landing run as the crew stared in amazement at the Snittian moonship.
"What can the ship's computer give you on the Snit?" Hyp asked his Specialist, Saviers.
"It appears to be six times the size of the asteroid, with approximately 240,000 miles of surface area," said the Specialist. "I'm getting readings that it is made up of some type of foreign alloy; some sort of thorlium mixture. My sensors can't identify the second metal."
"Wasylenko, you picking up any chatter?" asked Bean.
"Yes, sir. I'm catching a transmission from GP#207B to the codename 'Detinus Alpha'. It sounds like a casualty report from the RIP mercenaries at AFT Riis. The colony has been captured with minimal losses."
"Anything from Effluvium?"
"No, sir. Just the normal crosstalk to the tower."
The Hunter's Moon soared low over the colony, flying past row upon row of missile launchers and silos of munitions.
The starport was packed with warships. As the Moon eased down at Bay 12, the crew watched an army of workers arming and outfitting an armada of craft. Directly beside them at Dock 11 sat the famous RIP Fair Damsel. With the recent demise of the RIP Exterminator, the Damsel had more kills than any other vessel in the Periphery.
The crew began powering down the SMS destroyer.
Wasylenko turned in his chair to Hyp: "Sir, there's something coming in over the wire."
Suddenly the communications printer began rattling out a message. Wasylenko handed the communique to Hyp:
TO: LIEUTENANT, SMS HUNTER'S MOON
WELCOME DO NOT INTERFERE WITH GROUND CREW
YOUR SHIP IS BEING ARMED FOR FLEET ACTION
BRIEFING AT 1700 IN STAFF ROOM B, HANGAR C65
DO NOT LEAVE STARPORT
LORD MERDE DE ROUGE
It was only 1530, so Hyp had time to blow before the briefing. the entire crew was up and glued to the outside monitors. They had been excited when they had flown into Odyssey, but not like this. Hyp noticed that his youngest crew member, Jim Curry, was literally shaking with excitement. Even the usually cool mercenaries on board were pacing the deck.
"Sir, I request permission to take a small party to the starport rec facility," said Jim Beam.
"Where's Connors?"
Surprisingly, the man had disappeared.
"I believe I saw him leave the bridge just as we touched down. Do you want him back?" asked Mac.
DATE LINE SMS BIRD'S NEST/The following transmission to the ISS was uncovered today by RG Reporter, Danny O'Malley. Our man on the scene reports that this copy of a confidential report should go a long way in explaining the recent strange happenings in the scientific ring here:
*REPORT UPDATE*
TO: Colleen O'Dey, Governor
FR: Sam Hutchins, Project Leader
RE: Mutated Dralm Research
Colleen-- Attached is a copy of my lab notebook. Please forgive any strong language or political inflections. We were all under tremendous stress at the time. SH
2/87: Scientific rapture sweeps the labs as a Bird's Nest ground party, lead by Patrick O'Dey, returns with a large fowl. Although in pretty bad shape, we have high hopes of saving it. The bird is thought to be of the Dralm family, native to this world, although so large a specimen has never been seen before. Another item of note is that the Dralm travel in groups of three and are inseparable. This one was found alone.
4/87: After weeks of intensive care, the bird seems to have improved greatly. Basic intelligence tests are favorable; the patient shows results off the native-type animal test scale.
10/87: Weeks of testing and training have paid off. We have established basic communication with the Bird. Although quick to learn, we are quite concerned about the vocabulary problem we seem to be having. Basic requests from Maddie (our pet name for her) have been for "novelties". We cannot seem to get through to her that the standard galactic word for basic needs is "food".
13/87: The learning abilities of the bird are unbelievable. Already she has learned the colony's computer language and has begun independent (though monitored) studies. Although much progress has been made and the bird seems very happy there is some concern among the researchers that something serious is lacking in the bird's routine.
15/87: The returning Ground Party of Tom O'Dey has confirmed what most of us here already suspected--that this bird is a mutant. No other specimans could be found anywhere. Perhaps the fact that she was deprived of male and female companions and was forced to survive alone for so long, has lead to her increased size and intelligence.
16/87: A high priority, highly confidential shipment of sealed food arrived from Farm #7 today, delivered in person by the Farm #7 manager. All he had to say was he received a Class 1 directive to manufacture special foods and deliver them sealed to the biolabs. Inspection of the food after he left revealed an entire production run of chocolates(?)(.) Discussion at the Golden Crescent Inn that evening suggests that out Dralm may have something to do with it. Suspicions are quieted the next day when it is discovered that the entire supply of chocolates had disappeared, obviously taken by the sick individual who ordered it.
17/87: Panic everywhere as Gov. O'Dey's security forces rifle the labs looking for clues as to what caused the demise of a member if the Governor's personal staff, a reformed pleasure slave the Governor was personally rehabilitating. His body was found in the scientific library is a...how shall I say it...depleted state. The security check revealed Maddie sitting in her cage, picking her teeth and humming "Slow Hand". The security forces left dejectedly as no clues are turned up. Rumors are that the Governor is furious.
19/87: An urgent note from Gov. O'Dey arrived today, asking me to confirm and investigate the source of subspace transmissions to the Transhole Publishing Company. My search turned up nothing.
19/87: The local STC Manager stopped vy today to say that he received a note from an unspecified publishing company for several million stellars. The delivery address was: "Payavle to the Bearer, Bio Labs, SMS Bird's Nest". I sent him away confused as I have no idea what he's talking about. He is found mugged the next day; missing in action are his briefcase and his pants.
21/87: The colony security forces siezed our Dralm today and hauled her off for an audience with the governor. It seems all factory production was changed to something the security forces were not at liberty to discuss. But the words "rubber", "toys", and "latex" were overheard. At this point it's not clear whether we'll get Maddie back or not.
23/87: We learn that Maddie was shipped off planet for some serious rehabilitation. Rumor has it that she has joined the SMS as a freighter captain. Our best guess is that she 'obtained' an Academy diploma while in the computer files of the ISP.
THIS FILE IS NOW CLOSED*
EDITOR'S NOTE: This report is published intact for the reader's pleasure. Most of Maddie's literary works are available through Ringbone Merchandising. Write for details.
"Well, Boss, it's finished." Sean Mac Ric tiredly told his brother, Aidan. "The first Periphery distillery is in operation."
"Great." Aidan declared. "we'll have to have a celebration. And it's only two days late."
"We'd have made it on time if you hadn't insisted we run pipes directly from the storage tanks to every room in the House of the Rising Sun." Sean accused, too tired to use his customary caution around Aidan.
Aidan looked surprised. "But we had to. I couldn't run dry. I mean, the customers couldn't run dry when visiting the girls there."
"Maybe," Sean shouted back. "But we lost a whole day while you were taste testing and fell in the brewing vat. After you drank your way to the bottom, the brew master had to start all over."
"I couldn't help it," Aidan declared with dignity."I was only trying a quart or two every five minutes or so to make sure it was aging properly. There was a slick spot; anyone could have fallen in. That lone workman did when he tried to pull me out. We didn't have any choice; we had to drink or drown."
"Yah, but all of it?" Sean demanded. "when we found you two there wasn't three inches left. You were too busy singing 'Sweet Adeline' to notice."
"Well, it's done now," Aidan declared, dismissing the problems."My bringing the girls over from the 'Sun' to get them out of the workmen's way helped, surely."
"It did," Sean admitted. "It was nice working in empty rooms. Although I heard one crewman from some FET ship saying he thought the workmen should be female since he'd paid his money to visit."
"Well, he can visit and get his money's worth," Aidan declared.
"Not until tomorrow," Sean told him. "Those girls were tired when they got back. How did you entertain them?"
Aidan shrugged. "Just normal things," he said innocently. "Did you get the sign up?"
"Yes," Sean agreed. "'Aidan's Beer, Wines, and Other Stuff'. Couldn't you think of a better name than that?"
"Why?" Aidan was puzzled. "That's what it is, isn't it? Well, I'd better get busy. Party plans, you know. Oh, send Miss Lovey in as you go out."
"What happened to Miss Honey?" Sean asked as he wearily rose to leave.
"Maternity leave," Aidan said absently as he studied the monitor on his desk.
"Maternity leave?" Sean repeated. "That's the fifth secretary this month. Listen, Aidan, you'd better get some birth control pills for your secretaries. You can't keep one long enough for her to learn the job."
Aidan favored him with a frown. "Don't be silly. Here I am, finally able to get our birth rate up, and you want me to hand out birth control pills? How would that look? A leader has to set an example, you know. We all have to make sacrifices."
"Some sacrifice," Sean muttered.
"What was that?" Aidan barked.
"How right," Sean said hastily. "Um, we are getting quite a population now, you know. Over forty thousand."
"We are?" Aidan said in surprise. "Well, add a dozen farms to our next factory run. Send in Miss Lovey. And Sean? You should take better care of yourself, boy. Have a drink or something."
The celebrations at Romp over, the ever so weary crews of the Edain and the Ivory Toad staggered back to their respective ships and lifted off for their respective destinations: the Edain to Avarice, to pick up a couple of mines, the Ivory Toad to Farside, to take care of a few business matters.
The crew of the Edain was busy conducting a not-so-scientific poll on the quality, character, and general all-around appearance of the Romp festivities when David appeared on the bridge.
"O.K., guys," he began, "Here we are on our way to Avarice. Unfortunately, I have received word that Avarice isn't accepting any inbound traffic at the moment, so here's your chance. Where do you want to go? For your information, Blackacre is no longer under the management of the Brisens, and the quality of the entertainment has probably declined. Does anyone else have a suggestion?"
"Vodkynville."
"Right Gel real. The death rate may be down, but I refuse to go to a colony the SMS paid to get rid of --just call me fussy. Any other suggestions? Try and make them worthwhile."
"What about Yumoth?" asked Vivian Gray, the communications officer.
"Who here knows anything about Yumoth?" asked David.
Silence.
"O.K., we take a chance and go to Yumoth."
____________________________
The Edain gently set down at IND Yumoth and the crew tumbled out for another hectic shore leave.
The sight that greeted them was not pretty. A barren, dusty street led from the spaceport to the colony proper. The crew turned around and looked at Vivian.
"Er, maybe it's better in the colony," she said meekly.
"It probably can't be any worse, muttered Mike Drepo, the Engineering Officer.
It wasn't that much better.
A quick survey of the town revealed that the main cultural center was the ice cream parlor located on the northeast side of town. Fortunately, it wasn't Happy Hour yet and they were able to get seats at the counter, next to the plain figure hunched over a double-nut fudge rootie-tootie-frootie sundae.
After ordering, David turned to the figure. "Is this place always so exciting, or is today a special day?"
The man turned to face David. He was obviously not a local by the stylish jumpsuit he wore, and obviously not pleased with the present state of affairs. "How should I know? I just got here myself."
"Really? Where from?"
The stranger gestured with his spoon. "Oh, here and there."
David stuck out his hand. "Well, I'm David Addison. Glad to meet you."
The stranger shook David's hand, a bit reluctantly.
"Just call me Flasher."
David arched his eyebrow (something he practiced in the mirror in his cabin). "Really? I hope you have your problem under control."
Flasher seemed not to notice David's comment but stared morosely at the remnants of the sundae before him.
Just then, David felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned and saw Joseph M'denge, the ship's information officer.
"Yes, Joseph, what is it?"
"Could I speak to you in private for a moment, sir?"
David followed Joseph over to a secluded part of the shop.
"Sir, I've seen that face before at the post office in Dogleg."
"You mean he was waiting to mail a letter at the same time you were? How fascinating."
"No, sir. Not exactly. His face was on a wanted poster. That's the infamous Harry Flashman, one of the members of the RIP."
"Oh, really? How interesting."
David walked back to the counter and resumed eating.
After finishing the banana split, David turned to the Flasher.
"Say, I don't mean to intrude, but aren't you the notorious rebel leader and con artist, Harry Flashman?"
Flasher tensed slightly, as if to run. Then he relaxed.
"Yes, I might as well admit it. I am he. What are you going to do about it?"
David sat and thought (rather difficult for David). "Well, I don't rightly know," he said firmly. "If there were Imperials around I suppose I would have to turn you in. But since there aren't, I guess I won't. So, if you tell me the whys and wherefores of how you came to be here, I don't think I will have seen you."
I got to thinking about the fact that Father Larry forbade me to do crossword puzzles, and, you know, the more I thought about it, the madder I got. After all, I AM THE EDITOR. Just WHO does he think he is? So, properly steeped in the rebellious spirit for which the Ringbone Tribe is famous, I designed the below puzzle. You'll love it. I may print the answer in the next issue.
JOURNEYS IN THE PERIPHERY (continued)
"Fair enough," acknowledged Harry. "Alright then. Here's the story of how I strayed from the path of right-thinking Peripherals everywhere and became the leading--and currently only--figure in the struggle against tyranny and oppression."
__________________________
"It all began when I was assigned to haul a load of animals to the Romulus zoo. Crowded on a starship with a lot of animals, I got to thinking. You can do a lot of thinking while cleaning out animals cages, y'know. Anyway, I decided that the Empire was not the kind of outfit that was suitable for a man of my kind of talents, and after disposing of those smelly critters at Romulus, I joined the RIP. It's all that simple, really."
"How goes the rebellion?" asked Vivian, curiously.
"Not so good, frankly," responded Flashman. "we suffer from what you might call a public relations problem. No one believes that we can cause any trouble, and the Imperials often know about our targets before we can get there. It isn't too good right now. But," he said, brightening a bit, "there is hope. We have just engaged a crack public relations outfit, and soon you'll be seeing ads for the new RIP. For excitement, daring and generally good times, you can't beat the Raiders of the Imperial Periphery. We are going to emphasize that fringe benefits of this job." He leaned closer, and David caught a whiff of the boysenberry double-nut soda.
"For an example, we offer a fully-comprehensive medical and dental plan, as well as profit-sharing and a generous paid vacation policy." He looked at David. "Are you and your boys interested in signing up?"
David stopped and thought for a minute. He could see himself in a RIP uniform, swaggering into any bar and hearing the conversation come to a halt. The generous vacation policy would be a welcome change from Monroe's insistent demand for hauling. He shook his head.
"I don't think so, Flashman. Not me nor my crew. Thanks for the offer though. C'mon guys, let's go."
The crew left the ice cream parlor, filing by Flashman, who sat dejectedly on his stool. "Yo! Counterman! Another rum raisin sundae! Make it a double!"
Joseph caught up with David as he made his way back to the ship.
"Are you crazy?" David asked. "Look around you. Do you think anyone would believe that we met and talked (let alone survived) an encounter with the infamous Harry Flashman? If indeed, that is who that really was? And seeing him here, at Yumoth? C'mon, Joseph, they would throw us all in the psycho ward and toss away the key."
As the crew ambled back to the ship, they noticed a certain amount of commotion going on about them, increasing as they got closer to the starport. Upon reaching the starport, they found out the reason for the commotion.
An enormous ship squatted on the spaceport grounds, dwarfing the Edain with her massive bulk. It was obviously not of human manufacture. Tiny figures bustled around the base of the large ship, doing whatever tiny figures are supposed to do. David caught one of the persons going the other way.
"By Rlo's missing member, what's going on here?" he asked the confused and frightened man.
"I don't really know, sir." squeaked the man. "This ship just landed here a couple of hours ago. It hasn't done anything but just sit there. No one can get close to it. There's some sort of force field that covers it and the ship next to it, and no one can get through. Lord Hermie's got an emergency call out to the Imperials and has ordered the troops to cordon off the starport, but nothing's been done yet."
David felt a tug on his sleeve. It was Steve.
"Sir, I must point out that our ship is the one next to the alien vessel, and that any action taken could harm the Edain."
"I've got eyes," said David testily. "I can see that. Just let me think a minute."
______________
Well, well, well, what a situation our heroes find themselves in. The possibility of their ship being destroyed, the sudden appearance of the alien vessel--what does it all mean? And could Yumoth be as bad as it's made out to be?
Well, boys and girls, it's been real. Thousands of you have asked about the name of the Gazette, so, starting next month I will begin a series of articles entitles "Ringbone Chronicles" which will explain everything. I have tried to keep my editing to a minimum in order to preserve the flavor of the particular authors. I have high hopes. Do the terms "dictionary" and "complete sentence" mean anything to you? In other words, I will clean up these two items--misspelling and sentence fragments. I am very pleased with these submission, though--and look for more.
