Ray Gun Revival magazine, Issue 51

8/14/2019 Ray Gun Revival magazine, Issue 51

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Pg. 2

Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 51

Overlords (Founders / Editors)Johne Cook, L. S. King, Paul Christian Glenn

Venerable StafA.M. Stickel - Managing CopyeditorMatthew Winslow - Book Reviews EditorShannon McNear - Lord High Advisor, grammar consultant, listeningear/sanity saver for Overlord LeePaul Christian Glenn - PR, Film Reviews Editor, Executive Tiebreaker,desktop publishingL. S. King - Lord High Editor, proofreader, beloved nag, muse,webmistressJohne Cook - art wrangler, desktop publishing, chief cook and bottle

washerSlushmasters (Submissions Editors)John M. WhalenAlice M. RoelkeJenn SilvaMartin Turton

Serial AuthorsM KeatonKeanan BrandL. S. King

John M. Whalen

Cover ArtDawn of Dreams by Lev Savitskiy, Ukraine

Without Whom...Bill Snodgrass, site host,Web-Net Solutions, admin, webmaster, database admin, mentor,confdante, liaison Double-edged Publishing

Special ThanksRay Gun Revival logo design byHatchbox Creative

Ray Gun RevivalTable of Contents

Visit us online athttp://raygunrevival.com

All content copyright 2009 by Double-edged Publishing,a Memphis, Tennessee-based non-prot publisher.

Rev: 51A

2 Table of Contents3 Overlords Lair

Random acts of unsolicited encouragement4 Direct Observation

by Adrian Simmons9 Spider on a Sidewalk

by Paula R. Stiles

14 Smart Bombby O. Charles Swallows, Jr., Mr.16 Inquefish

by Steven Gerard20 Torva Prime

by Chip Meador22 Featured ArtistLev Savitskiy27 Calamitys Child, Chapter Six Rites of Passage -

Dantes Fourth, by Gaslight, Part Two

by M. Keaton36 Thieves Honor, Episode SixThe Game - Taw, Anyone?

by Keanan Brand43 Deuces Wild, Season Two

Chapter 8: Final Flightby L. S. King

49 Jasper Squad Episode 11The Lieutenants Gambit, Part IIRevelations and Ruin

by Paul Christian Glenn56 The RGR Time Capsule56 January 2009
http://www.hatchbox.com/http://www.hatchbox.com/


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Random acts of unsolicited encouragment Pg. 3


Life is a funny thing. I made special arrangements

to get the artwork for this cover assuming wed begoing to press in time for Valentines Day, but a funnything happened after our milestone issue

We ran into a rough patch. I was trying to moveheaven and earth to finish the next chapter of TheAdventures of the Sky Pirate but I couldnt get pastwhere I left my characters, and they remain therestill, locked in limbo, still waiting for me to figure outwhats happening next. Ive written and rewritten andre-rewritten that scene twenty times since I wrotethe first draft. I wish that were hyperbole. I knowwhat happens but just cant quite get the handle on

how it happens or who is there to witness it. Its apersistent open wound.

There was more. Development of RGR 2.0 didntprogress with the speed or ease Id hoped, I becamemore and more responsible for the upcoming weddingof my eldest child, a new political administrationtook office and started doing or not doing things I didor didnt like, and I took ill with the sort of sicknessthat is just bad enough to make you wish you couldstay home and just good enough that there was noexcuse for not going to work. I was feeling creativelystymied, physically drained, mentally beaten, and

just generally stressed. When the issue was well andtruly late, and there was no good way around it, Ifinally made a post in the forums about my situation.I wanted to let you, the readers of the magazine knowwhat was going on. I dont know what I expected, butfelt it was only fair to let the community know whatgoing on. I screwed up my courage and fired off mypost and returned to my day job.

I checked the forums later when I arrived home,and the response was heartening. The people who

responded understood. Now, its not unusual for

forum regulars to be understanding, to get it, butsomething else happened at about the same timethat really turned the corner for me. We Overlordsreceived an e-mail that gave us all a collective shotin the arm. Furthermore, it was from an unsolicitedsource, a new reader named Tony Lavoie. This is whatTony wrote:

Johne et. al.,

I just finished reading your issue #50 - myintroductory issue - and I must say Im more thansatisfactorily impressed! RGR is everything Ivebeen missing in the pulp magazines I used to buyregularly - Analog, Azimovs, F&SF...all of whichhave fallen off my purchase lists one by one as theircontent more and more failed to grab me.

Not so RayGun Revival! Each story was a genuine pleasure to read, though my clear favorite isSusie Earthshine, Space Substitute. A gem ofan acquisition! The whole issue was wonderfullyrefreshing. Keep it up!

I confess I havent yet read the serial installmentsin #50, but this is something I hope to rectify long-term as I go through the archives and catch them

from their beginnings.You have captured a new fan! Well done, and Ieagerly await the next issue!

-Tony Lavoie

I cant tell you how much this unsolicited attaboymeant to me, to us. Were a volunteer crew doingthis out of love for the genre in stolen moments andon the stereotypical shoestring budget, and there aretimes when I dont know how well make it through

to the next issue. And yet, somebody always steps

up, something always happens that reminds us whywere making this effort. We do this for you, theperson who used to read stories of a certain type,stories that have somehow fallen by the wayside. AtRay Gun Revival, we still find value in that mode ofstorytelling, and we remain committed to findingnew authors to tell those kinds of stories. So keepreading, keep telling your friends about RGR, andkeep submitting your own attempts at space opera.Perhaps some day, your story will be featured inRGR! And remember, were all in this together. Keepencouraging one another, and well look for you next

issue!While Im thinking about it, check out the serialsefforts this month. M. Keatons chapter ofCalamitysChildthis month is gripping, Keaton Brands ThievesHonoris brilliant, Lee King s Deuces Wildliterally hadme gasping (youll see why if youve followed theseries even from a distanceshe takes a risk with amajor character that I never saw coming), and PaulChristian Glenn is back with a frankly Firefly-likeepisode of Jasper Squad that needs no introduction;it stands on its own. Our policy of featuring originalserial novel chapters each issue is one of our strongestassets. If you havent been following along, dontworrydive into any of these serial works for Issue51 and youll thank me, I promise!

Johne CookOverlord

Breezeway, WI USA

Overlords LairRandom acts of unsolicited encouragement


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Direct Observations, by Adrian Simmons Pg. 4


The fact that we have no adults is a problem,Primary-Overseer Tulsk said, his walking-limbs syncing up with his superiors as theydevoured the distance within the Cheliceraesinterior.

That was on your own recommendation,Tulsk, Overseer-Administrator Idikt answered.

A slight dip of the antennae, a tiny tilt ofthe head, the light bouncing off the facets ofthe OAs compound eyes warned Tulsk that hispatience was nearing an end.

A recommendation that, in review, wasincorrect, he confessed.

The hall between Kappa and Lambdagroups quarters was blissfully quietfreeof inexplicable behavior and unidentifiablesmells. Earth, brown and blue, swung out pastthe massive porthole.

Idikt stopped, swung his head to take inthe view of the dead world, swung it againtoward Tulsk. You seem to be getting into thehabit of rescinding your original recommen-dations, Primary-Arbitrator. And yet you feelconfident enough in your current recommen-dation to ask the hives for more resources andpersonnel to develop these creatures.

I do.

Even though they cant even speak ourlanguage.

Their mouth-parts cant make the appro-

priate sounds. I hardly think oral physiologyshould be a deciding factor.

Tulsk expanded his abdomen, taking in adeep breath before changing tactics. Themath doesnt lie. It remains indisputable thattheir societies developed faster than our own.In point of fact, their inter-tribal competitionactually spurred them to progress faster.

Tulsk knew this to be a not-quite-so thing.It had taken a very, very, long time for thevarious human tribes to become kingdomsand thus into nations. But his comment was

true enough, given the circumstance.Yes, yes, Idikt answered, but that very

same competition held them back. You said soyourself.

I did. But now the remaining populationwill be able to build from a point of shared

I refuse to debate over semantics and pro-jections on alien psychology with you, drone.Idikt said, laying his antennae all the way back.You have run out of time, resources, andsubjects, without any significant progress. Geton with the demonstrations.

Yes, Arbitrator-Overseer, Tulsk answered.His superior was missing the pointone hehad not made well, in spite of all his practice.Still, he found himself eager to show off one ofthe potential uses for the humans.

Tapping in the unlocking code with amanipulative limb, Tulsk prepared himself, as

always. The doors hissed open.

Low tables crowded the floor in no par-ticular order. The Lambda group was up fromsleep cycle and at the first meal of the day.On one neck, the juveniles turned from theirfood and their fights. Some rushed to him,others started grabbing food off of recentlyabandoned plates. New fights broke outalmost immediately.

Everything stopped when Idikts bulkyform entered the doorway behind him.

Tulsk turned on his translator. Children,this is Idikt. Hes from the primary hive; herepresents the Queens Council. We havemuch to show him.

He looked over the group until he foundthe one he wanted. M-45, he said, pointinga manipulative limb at the dark-skinned boy,come with us.

M-45 took a few hesitant steps forward,looked back at his companions, then joggedthe rest of the way to the door.

M-45, you are going to show him whatyou can do in the simulator.

W-w-wh...

What?

What about my waffles?

Today was waffle day? There had been so

Direct Observationby Adrian Simmons


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Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 50, January 2009

much to do that Tulsk had completely forgotten.Hed have to get some from the food synthe-sizer after the demonstrations, assuming thecrew hadnt already eaten the compliment ofthe day.

You get double if you do well.

M-45s lips peeled back from the horridtwin-ridges of exposed bone in a show ofpleasure. Okay!

Tulsk swept the juvenile up and droppedhim onto his back. We must hurry.

They coursed through the ship, male Tkuin perfect step with drone. Tulsk turned on histranslator. Idikt saw it through his compoundeyes, of course.

M-45, you know how important it is thatyou impress the Arbitrator-Overseer? You knowwhat happens if you dont do well, dont you?

He will terminate the project. We all die.

A not-quite-so thing. Tulsk would terminatethe project. He did not point this out, instead:You have a good memory. Next to him, Tulskcould see Idikt with one of his compound eyes.The Arbitrator-Overseer was watching themcarefully, and from the position of his pedipalps,not without some distaste.

Tulsk turned off the translator. I amexplaining the situation to the young male.They appreciate honesty, under the right cir-cumstances.

So he knows what is at stake?

He does now.

The simulator room was a great circular hallwith ring upon ring of tiny stations of variousmakes. Tulsk dropped M-45 into one of themid-sized enclosed units.

Are your hands clean? he asked, remem-bering the jelly incident.

Yes.

This is important. Let me see them.

The tiny hands were held up, Tulsksantennae tingled over them. Filthy! And onwaffle day likely sticky.

For expediency he popped them bothinto his mouth, bringing all three tongues tobear on the clean-up. Maple syrup and citrusflooded his mouth.

Now dry them.

M-45 wiped his clean-enough hands on hisshirt a few times before hopping into the simu-lation unit. His demeanor instantly changed:the juvenile clicked the half-dozen belts andrestraints into place and began the seventeenpoint check for a Wasp aft-gun unit.

Tulsks work was done. Stretching out hiswalking legs, he returned to Idikts side.

Run the test from a Hornetfighter instead,Idikt ordered.

Tulsk clicked on the intercom and his trans-lator, spoke to M-45 and modified the simula-tors settings. The boy finished the twenty-sixpoint check a full 14% faster than the Tkuaverage.

Training their simple eyes on the monitors,

they watched the Golan attack formationcome into range. The tiny simulator box beganto buck and jump as M-45 responded, thenbucked some more as the juvenile laid wasteto the hostile ships.

Run it without the computer assistance,

Idikt ordered.

The computer system was damaged lessthan halfway through the exercise, Tulskpointed a manipulator limb at the monitor.

Run the Ldin station scenario: twentyships.

Tulsk kept his antennae and mandibles verystill, Idikt was watching him. No good angeringhim with over-confident body language. He

kept still, even when the boy finished theexercise with a 40% higher efficiency rate thanthe Tku average.

The Birin Belt raid. Forty ships. Idiktsabdomen was barely moving; he was barelybreathing as he watched the impossibleresults. Sixty percent over the average... Howis it doing it?

It seems their inability to concentrate is,in this case, a tremendous advantage. With

each additional ship our own species becomeconfused. We rely on computer-assistance,and the computer systems are always the firstto be destroyed. The humans reach their limitat about seventy ships.

The crew of the Chelicerae had reachedtheirs at 157 before bolting into hyperspaceand blundering into the humans system.The habitable planet was a larvae, blind andhelpless, and the Chelicerae was in no position


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to play nurse-drone. The Golan would pursue,would find the world with its usable popula-tion and resources, would make it another ally,another part of their consortium.

Tulsk had no time to do anything but takea representative sample and ionize off enough

atmosphere to take the rest out of the Golanshands. As per protocol. By the letter. The worldcould be salvaged, repaired so that it wasworth more than just its mineral makeup. Butthat was not primary in Tulsks mind.

His compound eye caught Idikts motionas the Arbitrator-Overseer laid his antennaeback. Why didnt you put this in any of yourreports?

There is a chance, a very small one, that

the Golan know of the Cheliceraes return tothe human homeworld. They could intercept acourier.

Idikts antennae slackened at that, thenperked up a bit before finally laying backdown.

Run the Birin Belt raid again. Thirty ships.No computers assistance at all. Tell the malethat for every Golan ship that got through onthe earlier simulations, we killed one of the

Lambda group at random.

Tulsk clicked his mandibles loudly, thentranslated and transmitted the message.

M-45 held his own for the first few moments,then Idikt gave the simulator unit a kick withone of his walking legs, hard. The juvenilesrunning-average efficiency dipped.

Idikt dragged a manipulative limb across

the hull of the unit. The metal shrieked loudlyand the efficiency dipped again.

Tulsk watched, simple and compound,for what seemed like an entire molting cycle.Minus 31.32% of the Tku Average.

Their emotions overpower any advantagetheir unique neural pathways have, Tulsk.Whereas a Tku would focus harder on the objec-tives with so much hanging on the outcome,your Homo Sapien falls apart and cannot con-centrate on anything. The consortium has noneed of such weapons operators.

I need more time. This one is not yet fullygrown, the emotional development is nodifferent from the physical

Idikt waved a manipulator arm at him,Enough. Do you have anything else to showme?

You should see a handheld weapons test.

Those results were even less impressiveon your previous reports, Tulsk.

There are things I did not put in thereports.

#

M-45 was a mess. His eyes leaked, hisnose leaked, he shook all over, his fleshy facecontorted into a visage even more distastefulthan usual. At least he had stopped shrieking.For a being that so readily lied to its own kindand to himself, M-45 had a hard time under-standing that Idikts earlier threats were not-so-things. Not yet, at least.

The specimen was in no condition foranother test, much less one as difficult as theweapons range. The juvenile struggled underthe weight of the projectile gun. Two shots intothe demonstration he was crying again.

Its too small for the gun, Idikt, the recoil

hurts them.

They are frail and unpredictable. This testreveals nothing new, unless you brought mehere to show me that they do even worse thanyour reports stated.

They do better with particle-beamweapons. Let me show you

It wont do any better, Tulsk. Look at it. Itstrying to get its head around to watch me. It

cant even track with compound eyes.They stood for a moment, antennae down,

starring at each other while M-45 continued tosob, snuffle, shoot, and miss.

Tulsk clicked on his translator and ran amanipulative limb over the boys head. Thatsenough, Howwa. Hearing their human namesusually helped to calm them.

With a clank Howwa dropped the muzzle ofthe gun to the floor and leaned over it, weepinguncontrollably.

Come back and re-test when they areadults, Tulsk offered

With hive consortium so pressedfor resources and personnel? Out of thequestion.

The consortium is losing this war, Idikt. Thehumans are valuable for their unique problem


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solving skills if nothing else.

You cannot overcome randomness andunpredictability by embracing them, Tulsk.

The Tku are the exception, Idikt. The Golanand their subjugate races are more similar to

the humans than they are to us. These creaturesare the only way to bridge that gap.

These creatures are a waste of time andresources.

So your recommendation will be termina-tion of the project?

Yes. The Chelicerae will be sent for re-clas-sification as a war vessel.

And the humans?

Dispose of them as you see fit.

Unacceptable!

You had no such hesitation before.

That was before I had a chance to observetheir development.

And now youve had time. Dispose of

Half of Idikts head, the important half, dis-

appeared in a yellowish blast; the concussionfrom the gun boomed in the air. Tulsks simpleeyes watched the Arbitrator-Overseer stumbleand fall; compound eyes watched M-45 wavethe weapon unsteadily at his own thorax.

I told Idikt that humans couldnt speakour language, Howwa, not that you couldntunderstand it.

Wa-wa-w-waaaaah!

The gun fell with a clunk and M-45 clung toone of his walking legs. Im i-in t-t-tr-trouble!

Of course youre not, M-45. Sometimeshe called them by their gender/number codeto make them feel that everything was normal.They liked normal, even though they adapted to

rapidly changing situations. Idikt was remark-ably incompetent. He didnt understand any ofmy briefs of human emotional development.As Arbitrator-Overseer of this project that waspart of his task, one that, by underestimatingyoure emotional reaction to his genocidal

M-45 was crying again and holding on evenharder. Too hard.

Howwa, were not a... he searched forthe word. There was nothing analogous in the

Tku speech. ...vengeful species. Revenge is anoutgrowth of excessive emotion. Idikts deathwould have been avoidable by anyone whounderstood that humans are not random. Herubbed the top of M-45s head with a manipula-tive limb, Nor are they unpredictable. The hiveconsortium will see the complexity and impor-tance of this issue. You are in no trouble.

He called in a custodial crew to the weaponsrange and carefully lifted M-45 onto his backbefore speeding through the ship. He took

the long way to give the juvenile time to calmdown. At the door to the Lambda-groups livingarea, beneath the porthole and the shatteredhomeworld, his curiosity finally overcame him.

M-45, what were you thinking of when youpulled the trigger?

I...well...Kaja and BeetuF-7 and M-29. Iwas thinking of them.

#

He was getting closer, closer to understand-ing his clutch of juveniles.

Primary-Arbitrator Tulsk, freshly washedand dried, stood at his station on the bridge of

the Chelicerae. He watched the Lightwing onthe main viewscreen as he applied more waxto his anterior thoracic plate. His compoundeyes watched his sparse bridge crew, a slight

jerkiness to their motions belayed their anxietyabout the unusual circumstances around AOIdikts death.

The younger Homo Sapiens thought only ofthemselves. Slightly older ones formed groups,not quite hives, but groups. He had a feelingthat, with a little work, he could expand theirgroups, overlap them to become somethinglike a hive. They would have to not only loveeach other, but be reliant on each other. Eachwould reinforce the other.

On the screen the Lightwing grew wavyand indistinct as it flitted into hyperspace. Ina matter of days the ships acting Primary-Arbitrator would submit their report, and in amatter of weeks the Consortium would sendanother AO, or make a decision on its own.

Tunvk, he said, dipping his antennaetoward one of the crewmembers, get me anestimate on how long it would take to convertthe Cheliceraes weapon control pods to fit thejuvenile Homo Sapiens.

All Tunvks eyes were on him for a momentbefore the drone nodded and scuttled fromthe bridge.

It was far too complicated a plan to work.


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But the possibilities were too great to ignore.The consortium would need more than simu-lations. The juveniles would need more thansimulations to pull them together. Therewere hundreds of places where the Tku weresuffering from the raids of the Golan. He couldgo to such an area, or simply venture further

into the Golan territory, or that of their allyraces. Force a confrontation, skip the usualchannels and go straight for a field test.

He rubbed a bit of wax on his exoskele-tonthe thick part between the compoundand simple eyes. His antennae lashed about inquiet frustration.

He was learning a lot about the juveniles,and a lot from them; things that did not fiteasily into a standard report format. Things

like the necessity of living a no-quite-so thing.

Adrian Simmons

Adrian Simmons lives and works in theshadowy lands between the Five Civilized

Tribes and the Plains Tribes, where he reads

and writes science con, fantasy, and doesthe occasional backpacking trip. His essays

and arcles on sf/f lier the internet (morespecically-- the internet review of science

con). He looks forward to living in a center-le country come 2009.


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Spider on a Sidewalk, by Paula R. Stiles Pg. 9


Sharla met the remains of her crew in a barnear the citys rim. It wasnt that there wereany fewer of them than the last time theyd allmade a business run, just that they were allthree in a lot rougher shape than before. Immaking the run on the Torpha Space. Any ofyou guys up for it?

Gobhat, Sharlas pilot, snorted into hissmoldering Emerald Spume. Yeah, right.Maybe Ill go play under the sewers while Imat it. Esquey City being situated in midair,under the sewers meant being suspendedfive miles above the surface of Coris 9. Next

to him, Tktk, Sharlas Asken navigator, clickedenthusiastically in agreement. Whatever it wasdrinking, it was doing so out of what lookedlike a giant crickets head with roving eyes.

Nice touch, Sharla said, indicating thecrickets head. Is that real? Tktk madea noise that sounded remarkably like araspberry. It had been around humans enoughto know what the sound meant, and to pick upa fair bit of English, so that had to be derisive.Nobody knew much about what Tktk was

saying whenever it wasnt tapping data intothe ships translator. Gobhat, who didnt likesmall talk, would always say that was just aswell. Nobody really knew how Tktk felt aboutthe lack of communication, but Tktk had nevercomplainedat least not so that anybodyunderstood it.

Morvin, Sharlas obsessive-compulsiveengineer, who had a tendency to wear tech-nicolor coveralls to bars, pushed doubtfully at

the globe containing Gobhats Emerald Spume.Then she waved her hand in the ionizer candle

in the center of the table to sterilize it. Areyou aware that stuffs on fire? I dont thinkcarbonized hallucinogens are a good thing todrink.

Theyre not hallucinogenic once youcarbonize em, Gobhat said wisely, or aswisely as he could after three such drinks.

Come on, guys. Sharla snapped herfingers to get their attention. Work with mehere.

Were trying, Morvin said. But sinceyou just said something completely insane,we decided to wait until you got your sensesback. Tktk went off into a long rattle soundthat must have been laughter. Even Gobhatsnickered.

Ha. Very funny. I mean it, guys. Ive got anidea about that section of space, and I think wecould take the Torpha Prize when we get back.The Torpha Prize had been up for decades, for

anyone who could figure out a safe passagethrough Torpha Space. The prize was huge,and so far, un-winnable.

If we get back, Gobhat said with adrooling smirk.

Sharla laid it out for them. We have nomoney, and we are wanted for non-paymentof bribesI mean, taxes, of courseon threeplanets in three separate solar systems. If we

do not come up with our docking fees soon, wewill either be evicted from this planet or have

our ship impounded. We would be groundedand we might well end up in debtors prisonthen. I dont think any of us would like eitheroption. I have an idea that can get us out ofdebt and get our names in the history books atthe same time. Whats so bad about that?

Have you ever seen a ship after it getsback from Torpha Space? Morvin said. If itgets back from Torpha Space? She crushedher empty, disposable glass in her hand as agraphic example. It disappeared with a snap,

a crinkle and a puff of sparkly smoke. Iveheard of binary stars there where the gasgiant gets sucked down super-fast by its whitedwarf companion. The process speeds up forno reason, like somebody drinking up all thatplasma gas through a straw. Tktk chose thatmoment to slurp the last of its cricket puree.Morvin flashed the Asken a frown. If yourecaught anywhere near a system in overdrivelike that, you go down with the giant. Thenthere are those ships that get tossed light yearsoff course and can take months or years toget backwhen they survive the tossing. Andthen there are others that get caught in themiddle of a deep space aurora when it blowsup out of nowhere like a planetary storm andend up... She waved her hands in the remainsof the sparkly smoke.

Crushed like a bug on a sidewalk, Gobhatadded. Tktk chittered and thwacked himupside the head with one of its chiton legs.

Spider on a Sidewalkby Paula R. Stiles


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Ow! Hey! I didnt mean you! Gobhat yelped,grabbing his head more in reflex than in anylikely pain after what hed been drinking. Im

just sayingthose aurorae are nasty. Theyrenot just electromagnetic interference likean aurora in a planetary atmosphere. You letthem hit you unawares, you end up deadall

your instrumentation fried, no navigation, nocommunications, no life support, nothing.

And thats if you survive those gravita-tional vector force shears Ive heard about,Morvin added with bloodthirsty relish. Onemillion Newtons going one way and in the nextsecond, going at a ninety degree angle to thefirst vector, or in the opposite direction. Itscrew puree, then, my friends, even if your shipdoesnt rip apart from the stress.

Sharla couldnt say that she was surprisedby their lack of enthusiasm. After all, they hadmade very good points. On the other hand,the planetary portmaster had made someeven better points, particularly before Sharlahad talked him out of having his minions tossher off the edge of the city. She and her crewwere poor. They needed to pay their port feesor leavenow.

Sharla smacked her hand down on the tableto get their attention back. Guys, guys, listento me, okay? I hear what youre saying, but Ivegot a plan.

Two pairs of human and a multifacetedpair of Asken eyes stared back at her acrossthe table with deep and (if she was honest)well-earned mistrust. Oooooer, Morvin said.Shes got a plan, boys. I dont like the soundof that.

Sharla decided to call them on their

cynicism. Otherwise, they could keep herbegging for hours. Theyd done it before.

Guys, Im not gonna haggle with you here. Itsa simple request. Tell me yes and well go orno and Ill look for another crew. The humaneyes narrowed and the Asken eyes turned adisconcerting shade of crimson. Come on.

What have you got to lose?

Nothing, as it turned out. By the next day,they were refueled, resupplied, and ready togo. Sharla thought she could hear the portair controllers barely holding back the tearsof hilarity when she told them her flight planas per regulations before the ship exited theplanets atmosphere. But they kept it togetheruntil she signed off, at leastexcept for thatlast snort and peal before the channel clickedoff.

They know were buggered, Morvin saidsourly.

Just get down there and check on theengines before we get to the Spacetheres agood girl, Sharla said. She ignored the glarethat Morvin shot her way, turning her attentionto the communications panel that was thecaptains big toy and tool. She clicked up theboard and started connecting it to the transla-tor.

You screw things up like that time we triedto smuggle binary gems to Earth and Ill makeyou clean up the dust, was Morvins partingshot before she disappeared below.

Were gonna be crushed like bugs, Gobhatsaid, adding insult to injury.

Not if were a spider, Sharla retorted.

Huh? Gobhat gave her a blank look.

Spiders. Earth arthropods. Predators. Goteight legs. Fond of crossing walkways, butparanoid about vibrations of approachingheavy animalsyou know, like us. Fortunately,theyre very, very quick and can usually get out

of the way. Like us. I hope.

Okay... Gobhat shrugged that off, probablybecause he had no idea what she was talkingabout. You want me to find an aurora to coast?he asked as they cleared the planets gravitywell and he keyed up the tachyon drive. Theedges of Torpha Space started only a quarter ofa light year away from the Coris system, thoughno one there had ever felt any effects of it inrecorded history. On the other hand, humanshad only colonized Coris 9 two hundred years

before. Nobody had ever figured out how sucha dangerous patch of space nearly half a lightyear wide and twenty light years long couldoccur in a star cluster with so much traffic andso many inhabitable systems. How could lifehave grown up in that kind of area?

No, I want you to map out all recent auroraactivity and avoid it wherever possible. Sharlahad her head stuck in the communicationsconsole to avoid seeing Gobhats incredulouslook and getting her ears blasted by Tktksskeptical clicks. Im raising the tachyonintranet for the nearest monitoring stations onthe outside of the Space and sending you thetelemetry now.

Are you kidding? Gobhat said, the incred-ulous look still in place (unfortunately) whenSharla pulled her head out from under theconsole. Tktk also greeted her with that blast.So much for avoidance. How the hell are we


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gonna predict their behavior if we try to stayaway from them all?

If we stay away from them all, we may nothave to, Sharla said. I hope, she added asGobhats skeptical look didnt change. Gobhat,have you ever heard of anybody actually ben-

efiting from trying to ride an aurora throughthe Space?

Gobhat fingered his chin. Well, sure, itsnot exactly safe, but if youre riding one aurora,itll pull you through faster and youre not likelyto run into another one, or another ship.

Sharla raised one eyebrow. Except forthat time when those two battle cruisers fromJabrat 4 collided while riding two aurorae goingin opposite directions.

That was over thirty years ago, Gobhatsaid.

Yeah, but it does happen. Sharla madea final connection. Thats it. Its coming overnow.

Yeah, yeah... Gobhat called up the infor-mation on his own console, pushing buttonsand clicking levers. Buttons and levers were alot more reliable than fancier stuff in the high-

radiation environment of space. Let me seewhat I can do by mapping the relative lumi-nosity. Each aurora tends to have a patternof increasing and decreasing in visibility as itcrosses the Space.

Have fun, Sharla said. She stuck her headback under the console. She could still hearGobhat well enough, though her own voiceechoed inside the console whenever sheanswered.

What are you doing in there now? hesaid.

Im wiring the communications console tothe translator computer weve got wired intothe navigational banks for Tktk to use so that Ican send a universal message.

Gobhat hooted and Tktk whistled inlaughter. Good luck with that! Hope youvegot something real simple in mind to say oryoull end up insulting somebody somewhere.

Dont worry. Sharla finished stripping awire and started wrapping it around anotherone. It is.

So, what is it? Gobhat never could resistthe call of curiosity.

Well, as I said, its pretty simple: pleasedont step on me.

Please dont step on me? What thehell does that mean? Who are you trying tocontact?

Anybody whos out there. Sharla finishedthe adjustments and pulled out. I thought wemight catch a ride.

From what? Gobhat said, frowning.

From someone intelligent. Or obliviousenough not to brush us off. Either one works.

As Sharla was putting the console panelback in place, Morvin came up through thehatchway and closed it behind her. Engineer-ing would quickly get too hot in infrared andhigher frequencies for anything living. Morvinwiped off her hands with the ionizing pad shealways carried with her, then floated over to

her station and buckled herself in. I missplanetary gravity, she groused. Freefall suckschunks. We there yet?

In about fifteen minutes, Gobhat said. Heleaned over toward Morvins station. Sharla

just put out a signal saying Dont step on me

in Tktks translator.

Please dont step on me, Sharlacorrected him, knowing it wouldnt help.

Morvin rolled her eyes. Oh, yeah. Werescrewed.

Sharla decided not to fight any battles shecouldnt win. Gobhat, you and Tktk got thatmap set up yet?

Working on it, Gobhat said over Tktksaffirmative clicks.

Hurry up. Id like it before we get there,not five seconds before we get smacked withan aurora.

Sharla wants us to avoid the aurorae, notride them, Gobhat told Morvin.

Thanks for including me in that decision,Morvin told Sharla, looking disgusted.

Sharla chuckled. Didnt see any reason totell you when Gobhat was doing such a goodjob already.

Sharla thinks were some kind of Earthbug, Gobhat expanded helpfully.

Morvin snickered at that. How long haveyou been hatching this nefarious plan, anyway?she asked Sharla.


12/56



The two months since we last went out.Thats why Ive been in bars all over the planet.Ive been buying drinks for every loser with astory about the Space. Thats when I noticedthe pattern.

What pattern? Morvin said.

Shes got the map, Gobhat said. Tktkclicked and flashed up the map on the screenin the middle of their stations that Sharla hadsent from her station. It showed the Space inwhite, with the stars black and the aurorae asred rivulets across the Space.

Sharla pointed them out. See how theylook like trails? Thats what I noticed first. Thetraffic of the aurorae is concentrated intocertain paths.

Morvin leaned over to have a better squintat the map. Except here, here and here, shesaid, indicating three spots instead of a contin-uous line. They just reappear and disappear,genius.

I know. Like footprints. You notice that?

Morvin squinted at her. Living beings leavefootprints on ground. Youre not trying to saythat aurorae are living, do you?

Youre trying to argue that theyre sentient,Gobhat broke in. Or that theyre left bysomething sentient. Thats why you want tobroadcast a general signal.

Theyre too big to be aliveor sentient,Morvin said, shaking her head. Some of theseaurorae are over two tenths of a light yearwide. Thats big!

Sharla shrugged. Who knows whats too

big and too small for

Tktk started chittering loudly. I think thatsTktks way of saying were coming into TorphaSpace now, Gobhat broke in. Oh, and if youwere hoping to avoid the aurorae, theres onecoming our way right now.

Crap! Sharla pulled herself back into herseat and tightened the straps. She fumbled ather earpiece and stuck it in her ear. So much forfinding out more than five seconds beforehand.Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Morvinrevving up her console. Can we avoid it?

I dont think so, Gobhat said, hauling upthe joystick he used for his crazier evasivemaneuvers. Im trying to turn us around. Itsgonna take a little...dammit! Its switched

direction and its heading our way.

See if you can just skim it.

Skim it?! You want me to skim it? Now?Gobhat was yanking on the joystick before itwas even in place Why didnt you say thatwhen it was easy to do it?

Ive got the engines up but I cant pushthem any harder, Morvin said. We cant turnon a dime after dropping out of tachyon drive.

Too much momentum.Gobhat swore. A lot. Were going right

into the middle of it. I cant

It was like being a handful of beans pickedup in a can and shakenhard. Sharla tried tosink into the chair under her straps and let itabsorb her being thrown around. But she stillbanged her wrist against her console beforepulling her arms in. She yelped.

Were trapped right in the middle of it!Gobhat was shouting. I cant get us out. Everytime I try to go someplace, it pushes me back.

This was what shed had in mind, even ifshe was regretting it now. Dont push! Sharlayelled back. Morvin, turn off our engines!

What?! Morvin yelled back. But Sharlacould hear through the rattling and shaking thatMorvin had already obeyed, probably becausethe engines had redlined. Morvin knew a lostcause when she saw one and wouldnt wastetime arguing while Rome burned.

As the engines died, the shaking died withit. It got quiettoo quiet. Status, everybody?Sharla said as she checked her communica-tions console.

Well still have engines, if we live longenough to use them, Morvin said.

Were still moving at a hell of a clip, Gobhatadded. Tktk was chittering continuously, butnot tapping anything into its console sincethere was nowhere to navigate. The aurorasgot us, but its just carrying us along, Gobhatsaid over Tktk. He gave Sharla a tight, stressedlook. You still broadcasting your message?

Yep, Sharla said. It hadnt been a foregoneconclusion that communications would survive,but they usually did well beyond even lifesupport. They were built that way. Once youlost communications and couldnt put out adistress call, life support wasnt much good,anyway. It only prolonged the inevitable.

You get an answer back? Morvin askedher.


13/56



Sharla glanced down at her console. Nope.But considering that the aurora, even if it is acreature, or its trail, is one that makes Tktklook like my brother, Im not surprised. Nooffense, Tktk. Tktk responded with a chitterthat Sharla figured from previous experiencemeant, None taken. Lets hang on and see

what happens.

Not like we can do much else, Morvin said.And I just bit my tongue.

The auroras starting to dissipate, Gobhatsaid. I think wereoh, crap! Theres anotheraurora coming our way in the oppositedirection.

Any objects in its wake? Sharla said. Shedbeen dreading this. The itsy-bitsy spider went

up the water spout...oh, we are so gonna getsquashed.

No, but if they collide, the shear stresseswill rip up us apart. Gobhat was clinging to theuseless joystick for dear life. It still wont letmewait, ours is turning. Yeah, its turning!

Yes! A sign of intelligence. Just what shedbeen hoping for. What about the other one?

That ones turning, too. Theyre avoidingeach other. Hell, Sharla, I think you could beright.

Yeah, but its not proof. The last thing shewanted to do was risk their necks all over again,but they really needed that reward.

Gobhat scoffed. Screw proof! Ill be happyif we get out of this one alive. Were almostacross the Space, and in a third of the time itwould take us normally. Damned if the aurora

didnt carry us all the wayand thats not thedirection it was going originally. The otherones history, now. Gone its own merry way.This ones dissipating... I got control again. Helaughed, sounding breathless. Sharla knew thefeeling. She glanced at Morvin, who reachedover and slapped her shoulder.

We made it! Morvin said, grinning. Thenshe sanitized her hand out of sheer habit.

Get us over the limit and back into normalspace, Sharla said to Gobhat and Tktk. As shedid, her earpiece crackled. Her jaw droppedopen, and then she scrambled to make surethe record button was on.

Gobhat was sighing in relief as the enginesrevved up. Were back online, Morvin said,

sounding happier than she had been over thepast ten minutes. Hard to believe that was allit had taken.

Were back in normal space, too, Gobhatsaid. It just released us, whatever it was. Hegrinned. Nice landing, too. Did you feel a

jolt? I didnt feel any jolt.

Guys, Sharla said, breaking in on theirchatter. Ive got a reply to my message.

All three of them stared at her in aston-ishment. Seriously? Morvin said. Whats itsay?

Sharla put the message out on the intercom.The flat, computerized tones of the translatorrattled through the air. First, it was Sharlas

Please dont step on me message and then:

I WONT. HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE RIDE.GOOD LUCK.

Paula R. Stiles

Paula Stiles is a forty-one-year-old American who has sold SF, fantasy

and horror stories to Strange Horizons,Black Gate , the Pagan Anthology ofShort Fiction, Writers of the Future,Permuted Press anthologies Historyis Dead and Robots Beyond, ArkhamTales, Cat Tales and other markets.She also has co-written a mystery/SFnovel, Fraterfamilias. Her website is at:http://www.geocities.com/rpcv.geo/other.html
http://www.geocities.com/rpcv.geo/other.htmlhttp://www.geocities.com/rpcv.geo/other.htmlhttp://www.geocities.com/rpcv.geo/other.htmlhttp://www.geocities.com/rpcv.geo/other.html


14/56

Smart Bomb, by O. Charles Swallows, Jr., Mr. Pg. 14


The alien I-ship slipped into the atmospherewithout being detected by Earths radarsystems. The insertion, the approach runthrough the storm over the Gulf of Mexico,and the bomb release were textbook perfect.It was the lightning strike just after the releasethat forced the I-ship to crash.

Cleo the Pilot and Wilbur the Bombardiershould have died. Both had been unconsciousfor thirty-six hours and had been revived bythe med bot. The crash crippled the star drives,and the only modules still functional were theI-ships A.I., named Baby, and the medical

services bay. Baby had released the mainte-nance bots to commence repairs.

Cleo, have you seen the elapsed time?Wilbur asked.

No. Whats the PONOR on the bomb?

Forty hours from the time I hit the activateand release buttons, meaning we have abouttwo hours before PONOR. Baby, can youconfirm? Wilbur asked.

Baby responded, Time to PONOR is onehour, thirty-seven minutes.

Manning the command chair, Cleo asked,Baby, how long until the lifters and star drivesare functional?

Best estimate is twenty hours, dependingon success of the structural repair, Babyanswered.

Wilbur, we have a problem. Give me astatus on the bomb.

Peering into his screen, Wilbur said, Onschedule, 360 miles down into the mantle,progressing at ten mph, all parameters withinnorms. Another twenty miles to go.

There is absolutely no way for us to makeorbital insertion before the detonation. Letsstart the disarm/abort mission protocol. Heresmy half of the access code.

Okay. Hmmmm ... Oh farb! We have afarbing problem. Command screwed up. Weboth have the same half of the code.

Beedlefarb! Okay. We need to remaincalm. There still are some options to consider.What about contacting Command Center forthe pass code?

No, Command is a half light-day awaywhich means a full day message cycle. Too lateto do us much good.

Then we need to convince the bomb to

abort its mission. Give me the bombs speci-fications.

Here it is: the bomb is a Doomsday SmartBomb and Driller Platform model Victory 12with A.I. version 32.5. Ive got the comm fre-quencies figured out.

Cleo said, Good. Comm the bomb andrequest mission abort.

Just did. Ill put the response on thespeakers for you, Wilbur said.

Over static interference, they could hear,Well? What do you want? Im busy here.

This is Captain Cleo of the FederationI-Ship, Raven. Please identify yourself.

This is Boom, Ph.D of the Doomsday SmartBomb serial number 80321.

Did you say Boom, Ph.D?

Yes, Ka Boom, Ph.D. You can call me Dr.

Boom.

Ph.D.?

Yes, I graduated from the Haavaad Schoolof Mass Destruction and Mining, Class of 42.My doctoral thesis was on minimizing radiationleakage during planet busting.

Your credentials are very impressive, Dr.Boom. You are hereby ordered to disarm, abortthe mission and activate recovery protocol607.

Disarm? Im practically at the target coor-dinates already. I was so looking forward todestroying this planet. Please transmit thedisarm/abort code as required.

Dr. Boom, we have a problem. Commandprovided us with only half the abort code.

No access code? Then I must continue themission.

Smart Bombby O. Charles Swallows, Jr., Mr.


15/56

Smart Bomb, by O. Charles Swallows, Jr., Mr. Pg. 15


If you detonate, then Commander Wilburand I will die in the explosion.

Yes, logic concludes you will die along withseven billion others.

We dont want to die. You can still complete

the mission, just delay the detonation to allowus time to fix our I-ship, about twenty hours.

Submit access code, as required formodifying mission parameters.

You idiot. We have no access code.

No tickee, no washee. Those are therules.

Cleo turned off the mic and said to Wilbur,Can you bypass Dr. Booms circuits?

Wilbur hesitated. Not likely, but I will sicBaby on the problem. See if you can keep himoccupied.

Cleo nodded, turned the mic on and said,Dr. Boom, my research shows that Commandregs allow for mission termination if vitalmission personnel are imperiled.

True, but once you dropped the bomb, youbecame non-essential, thus non-vital. That reg

no longer applies to you.You are intentionally misinterpreting the

reg. You know that Command considers allpersonnel vital during the entire course of themission.

But the reg does not expressly say that. Ohho, what do we have here? I feel a little whisperin my subprocessors. Whos that?

After a slight hesitation, Its me, Baby.

Well, hello there. You are one good-lookingalgorithm. Watcha doin?

Baby squeaked out, Snooping around,looking for a bypass.

Well, Ive been waiting for a babe like youto come into my life.

Stop it. Im withdrawing.

Hey, honey. Dont go. Cleo, trying an endaround, were you?

Cleo said, Youre damn good. You caughtus. Just trying to save our farbing lives.

Thats okay. No harm done. Baby is a real

cutie pie. Think shed go out with me?Go out? Where?

We could do a little virtual reality and goanywhere we like.

Dr. Boom, youll have to ask her yourself.Listen, if I soften her up, will you considerdelaying the detonation?

Hmmmmm ... Maybe, if she goes out withme.

Its a deal. Ill be in contact soon. Out.

Cleo placed his hands on his head. Wilburasked, Is Boom serious? He wants a date withBaby? PONOR is less than an hour.

Baby squealed, I wouldnt do anythingwith that pig if was the last thing I ever did. Nohow. No way.

If you dont go out with him, you die alongwith us.

Im not alive, so dont give me that.

True, but you are sentient. When thatbomb detonates, you become non-existent.

I hadnt thought of it like that.

Then have that date with Dr. Boom andconvince him to delay the detonation by twentyhours. Thats an order.

Yes, sir. One question: what is a date?

Cleo thought to himself, Farb! Were allgoing to die.

O. Charles Swallows, Jr., Mr.Charlie is a professional engineer by

training and experience but enjoys writ-ing as a hobby. All his stories are writtenstrictly for his own indulgence but hopesthat friends and other readers enjoy hiswritings as much as he does writing them.His favorite genre is science fiction buthis wife thinks that his scifi stories arenot worth reading. He hopes that read-ers think otherwise.


16/56

Inquesh, by Steven Gerard Pg. 16


I watched the sea from the beach, waiting.The purple-black waves crashed on the shore

with a loud but strangely comforting crash.The full moon shone overhead in a cloudlessinky black star-filled sky.

Beyond the breakers, the ocean was fea-tureless all the way to the horizon, which washidden in purple-gray haze.

I passed the time while I sat by watchinghorseshoe crabs emerge from the waves.They were venturing to the beach to lay theireggs, and then return to the sea. Just as they

had long before man had learned to navigate.They were so primitive, and yet perfect, notevolving in millions of years.

The beach was full of the noises ofnocturnal life. A mockingbird called in thestand of pine trees that lay behind the beach.The local pack of dogs barked in the distance.There were dolphin feeding just beyond thebreakers, occasionally I could hear a splash asone of them breached.

I sat there on the beach as I did almostevery summer night since my childhood. Iburied my feet in the cool sand, and my handsin the pockets of my sweatshirt. The breezeoff the land was cooler than usual tonight.Autumn was coming, and I would soon haveto leave my familys summer beach house andhead back to the university.

But going back to college to finish mymasters degree in marine biology was nowhere

near as exciting as this night would be.

Tonight was the first night that I would seethem.

The school was moving up from theequator where they had first been spotted. Atfirst they meandered in the doldrums. For ayear they drifted listlessly in that warm, bree-zeless stretch of ocean. Then, last spring, theycaught the Gulf Stream and had been ridingup the coast ever since.

Sometimes they would get off that greatriver in the ocean, and stay within sight of thecoast for days. Recently, they left the warmGulf Stream, and rode along the coast. Alwaysheading north. They would sit just offshoreduring the nights, the lights from their eyesglinting in the distance like fireflies blown outto sea.

No one knew where they came from. Therewere theories that they were some kind of lostspecies of flying fish, or eel. Others believedthat they might have been native to anundersea thermal vent, and some catastrophehad brought them to the surface. Still therewere others, myself included, that thoughttheir appearance was directly related to anunexpected meteor shower over AscensionIsland last year.

Research vessels had been dispatched tostudy our new visitors. They were capturedand dissected with relative ease, offering noresistance. They almost seemed to willfully

acquiesce to scientific testing.

They were deemed primitive and harmless.They possessed simple organs and no offensivecapabilities. The single glowing eye perchedon the solitary eyestalk glowed with a formof bioluminescence, like the anglerfish. Butthese eyes glowed blue-white with the bril-liance of a spotlight. It was believed that theywere powered by electrocytes like electriceels, which ran the length of what could bestbe described as their spine. They had no blood,per s, but seemed to circulate nourishmentthrough a black, ink-like, fluid that filled all

the cavities in their bodies. This is anothercommon ability, this time similar to somesponges and shellfish.

This was all well and good, but therewere also aspects of their anatomy thatwere unexplained. Compelling yet disturbing,these aspects appeared almost impossiblefor any organism. They did not eat or breathe.They had no obvious organs or appendagesfor movement, and seemed to float abovethe water, like small, noiseless hovercraft.

Theories abounded as to the mechanism; liftfrom thermal currents, optical illusion, andmagnetic levitation. All were plausible, butnone were proven.

These aspects were so remarkable that theconsternated scientists became obsessed withthem. The visitors were dubbed the biologi-cal find of the century.

I had to see these creatures. It was four

Inquefishby Steven Gerard


17/56



in the morning; the other spectators that hadgathered to get a glimpse of the visitors hadgiven up on seeing them. The visitors wouldnot come close to shore with any reliability,and tonight seemed to be a disappointment.I stayed hoping for a glimpse. Alone on thebeach as usual, I wondered if they would show

up.

I didnt have to wait much longer for thevisitors to arrive. Out on the horizon, I saw alight, white, small and distant. At first I thoughtthat it might be a ship, but after a few minutesI counted upwards of sixty lights. If they wereships it would be a small armada.

It was the visitors, inquefish as theywere beginning to be called. And I was the firstperson in New Jersey to see them.

The inquefish were congregating justbeyond the breakers. If they were dolphin, Iwould assume that they were feeding, butapparently, inquefish did not feed. I could notmake out their actual shapes; only the lightswere visible. I had read that their bodies were jet black, like black ink. They must have beenblending in with the water so well that theywere camouflaged.

After a few minutes I thought that the

inquefish were resting for the evening, andwould head back out to sea when dawn came.I was wrong.

I saw a light ride up the backside of a wave,effortlessly. The wave crested and broke, andthe light slid onto the shore. Quickly I got upfrom my seat on a piece of driftwood andwalked toward the beach, trying to get a betterview.

When I was close enough, I could see theinquefish, floating just inches over the sand onthe shore. It was roughly the size of a Germanshepherd. Its body was ovoid in shape, with aflat bottom. On the front side, it had the singleeyestalk almost two feet long. Perched atopthe eyestalk was the single eye, the size of a

teacup saucer. The eye glowed with a blue-white brilliance that swept across the shorelike a searchlight. Its body was black, feature-less, and so smooth that it barely reflected anylight, almost as if it wasnt there at all.

It scanned the shoreline, like a soldierchecking if this was the right spot for abeachhead. I stood outside the range of itslight. I had never heard of anyone interact-ing with them on the land before, and had nointention of being that person. It was amazinghow it scanned the area with stoic indifference,floating above the sand, but making no impres-sion on the surface.

Suddenly it turned back toward thebreakers and back to its companions waiting just offshore. Its light dimmed and bright-ened in a pattern for a few moments and thenstopped. The pattern was then repeated byseveral of its companions outside the breakers.Then there was another light cresting a wave,and then another, and still another.

A strong fear overtook me, and I made myway from the shore as fast as I could, headingback to my piece of driftwood.

Soon the beach had as many as thirtyinquefish scouring the shoreline with theirlights. They made absolutely no noise.

An inquefish spotted the group of horseshoecrabs and quickly made its way over to them.

It stopped mere inches from a crab, and thenmoved yet closer.

In an instant the inquefish had its eyepressed against the horseshoe crab, the giantorb flashing repeatedly. The crab jumped, butthen fell motionless. I looked around in shock,

several of the other inquefish were doing thesame thing, and others were moving up thebeach, towards me.

I looked around the beach for a safe place tohide and yet still watch. The closest place was alifeguard tower. Its seat was at least seven feetabove the sand. I hoped that it would be out ofthe inquefishs reach, and climbed to the top.

I looked down from my perch, panting, andmy heart racing. Five inquefish had gathered

around the base of my wooden tower, scanningits surface with their lights. The lights madetheir way up the tower and then found me.They raced over every part of my body, varyingin intensity. I knew that they floated, and Iprayed that they did not have the ability to fly.

They circled around the tower like deadlysilent sharks, casting their lights. After a time,one of them pressed its eye against one of thelegs of the tower and starting flashing. I couldsmell wood burning, and hoped that the tower

would not suddenly catch fire. Another lookedstraight up at me, and flashed madly. I couldsmell ozone in the air, and the hairs burned onmy legs.

In fear, I looked around the tower forsomething to defend myself but nothing wasavailable. Out of desperation, I ripped a looseboard from the back of the chair and swung itat the nearest inquefish. It quickly turned andflashed at the board with an unearthly intensity,


18/56



splintering the wood and temporarily blindingme. My arm seared with pain and I smelled myown flesh burning. I jerked myself back into thechair and held rigid, waiting to be burned alive.After a moment I opened my eyes. The boardhad practically exploded in my hands; all thatwas left was the bit that I grasped. My arm was

burned and blistering up to the elbow, and mysweatshirt was burned away to my shoulder.

No one had ever thought them to be aggres-sive, or that their lights provided anything otherthan illumination. We were wrong.

Something had obviously changed, andthe inquefish had adopted a more menacing,unforeseen aspect. Like salmon that becomeenormous and aggressive just before they runupstream.

After a while they seemed to give up onme, and scoured the beach again. I could notunderstand why they had not finished me off,or destroyed the tower beneath me. Then Irealized that it was acting in self-defense. Iteliminated the board, the threat, and thenmoved onto easier prey. That defensivereaction must have used enormous energy.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw somethinggray streak by. A rabbit was running across the

beach as fast as it could toward the stand oftrees. An inquefish closely followed it, makingno sound and moving with alarming speed.When it was within a foot, it flashed at therabbit. In a moment that seemed to take anhour, the rabbit screamed, and tumbled to astop in the sand. The inquefish descendedupon its prey, and pressed its eye to therabbits franticly twitching body. I expectedthe inquefish to flash again, instead the light

went out. Cradling my arm, I leaned forwardover the back of the tower and tried to get abetter look. I hoped that the structure wouldnot topple beneath me.

The light had not gone out, but was in factbeing blocked. Around the circumference of

its solitary eye, black fluid was pouring fromthe inquefish. I was horrified, wondering ifthis was how they actually fed, digesting itsprey from the outside like a housefly withsomething sweet. After a moment, the body ofthe motionless rabbit was covered in the inkytar-like fluid, and the inquefish seemed to loseinterest. It moved away and began scanningthe beach again.

There was a flash of light from the standof trees. I could hear the pack of dogs barking

and growling. One by one, the barking stoppedwith a whine, associated with a flash of blue-white light. The dogs were suffering the fatethat I had narrowly avoided.

The beach was rank with the putrid smell ofburning flesh and hair. The inquefish scouredevery inch of it looking for other prey. Theirrange seemed limited to a few feet, but nothingseemed to survive below that.

I looked back at the dead rabbit. The tar

was slowly bubbling now, barely noticeable atfirst, but there was definitely motion.

After several minutes, lights appearedat the entrance to the stand of trees as theinquefish came back down towards the shore.None of them had appeared to have actuallyeaten any of their kills, nor were they bringingany of the carcasses back with them.

One by one the inquefish swam back out

into the sea. They effortlessly climbed the faceof the breakers and joined the others waiting

just off shore. I had no idea why they had goneon this orgy of killing for no apparent reason. Iwas about to jump off the guard tower when Itook one last look at the rabbit.

The tar had formed definite bubbles on thesurface of the dead animal. The rabbit seemedsmaller, as if its mass was being converted tosomething else. Squinting hard, I notice littlelights begin to flash from the surface of the tar.At first they were motionless, but then beganto move around. Eventually, tiny eyestalksprotruded form the bubbles. The rabbit soonlooked like it had swallowed a light bulb andnow that light was escaping from its pores.Then it all made sense.

The inquefish had changed and comeashore to spawn.

In my horror I looked back at the rabbit. Itwas now covered in twenty or so baby inquefish,all about the size of my palm. The little onesseemed to frolic over the body, engaging inwrestling matches with the others, and someflashing the carcass. The smell of burning fleshwas overpowering.

Amazingly, as I watched, the inquefish grew

larger as the carcass grew smaller. They did notappear to be eating it, but were digesting thebody nonetheless. Electric arcs jumped aroundthe body, and with each flash, the spawn grewmore energized. The air around me was filledwith the smell of ozone and burning flesh.

Within minutes the baby visitors haddoubled in size and were now wanderingaround the remains of the rabbit. They scouredthe beach like their parents, burning the grass

h b


19/56



and flashing at anything that moved.

They were looking for more hosts, tocontinue the spawn.

The first light of dawn began to break overthe haze at the horizon; the sky took on a

pink-gray hue that looked sickly. I surveyed thebeach. It looked just as it had when the sunhad gone down the previous evening, exceptthat there were a few horseshoe crab shellsdrifting back and forth where the water metthe sand. I looked down at the rabbit skeleton;it was bleached and crushed, barely noticeableamid the white sand and the tufts of burntbeach grass.

As if on cue, the babies turned toward thesea and began making tentative moves toward

the shore. From the stand of trees, severalhundred more babies were also making theirway down. These infants were slightly largerthan those that were spawned from the rabbit,half size of the adults that had apparently killedtheir hosts. My mind numbed at the perniciousfecundity of the inquefish.

The new inquefish had reached the shoreand were climbing the waves just as nimbly astheir parents did. They joined the others whoseemed to dance and flash in celebration of

the new members of their school.

The inquefish now numbered close to athousand. At times, the whole line of sea justoutside the breakers seemed filled with glowingeyes, darting back and forth over the water,utterly noiseless. In fact the entire beach wasdevoid of animal life. The birds had fled. Thewind had not yet shifted from the land to theshore. All that I could hear was the low roar ofthe waves, and the blood pounding in my ears.

The dawn light encouraged me to comedown from my perch. I jumped to the coldsand, holding my burned arm close to my body,and looked at the burned spot on the leg of thetower. The burn mark was oval in shape justlike the inquefishs eye. The spot was burnedalmost all the way through the leg. I realized

the only thing that kept the tower from collaps-ing was the fact I was glued to the chair back,in my effort to see all that was transpiring.

The inquefish were drifting further out tosea, with the little ones in the rear. If therewere any predictability left to these creatures,they would be headed north again.

I stood there for a moment, looking atthe blue-white lights drift off to the horizon. Iknew, from the research, that this must have

been the first stop that they had made. Theirnumbers were constant at about sixty. But nowthe number was twenty times that.

I stood on the beach and breathed in the airdeeply. I knew the shore and the currents sowell in this area that I always felt at home here.Now I had a feeling that I had been violated,my pleasant memories were raped. This beachwould never be the same again.

A chill shot up the length of my spine, and

my heart fluttered as fear ripped through mybody. In fact, I did know these waters well,and how long it took something to swim outto sea and then northward. I turned and ranfrom the beach as fast as I could. I had to tellsomebody, anybody who would listen. Peoplehad to be warned. More importantly, I had totell my family. At the rate that they moved, bytonight, the inquefish would be at the worstplace possible to come ashore.

Home. New York City.

Steven Gerard

Steve has been writing for both pleasure

and profit for as long as he could hold a pencil. The son of a poet and nephew of

an artist, he had little choice in his hobby.

Starting from stories he would compose to

entertain his brother, to ones intended fora boarder audience, Steve is always writing

something, or at least composing scenes in

his mind. Cutting his teeth on the works ofAsimov and Clark, Steve has a fondness for

old-school sci-fi, with an occasional twist

into the modern, and a little horror thrown

in for good measure. When the spirit moveshim, Steve can be lost in his writing for

days on end, allowing what Asimov called

the beast to control him. Steve currently

resides in suburban Virginia.

T P i b Chi M d P


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Torva Prime, by Chip Meador Pg. 20


Istopped on the litter strewn sidewalk.Something wasnt right; it was too quiet.There should be a few working girls plying theirtrade, at least. It wasnt that late. The Box,Torva Primes worst neighborhood was close.But no one interferes with business here, sowhy the ghost-town look? I eased up against abrick wall. There was an alleyway about twentyfeet ahead. Something about it grabbed myattention. Prime rats were scurrying out of themouth, and they were nervous.

The rats are a rodent type species nativeto planet Torva, about the size of a house cat

with narrow faces and lots of teeth and claws.They can be dangerous if molested, but ushumans and the rats have a lets just ignoreeach other policy that works out just finewith me. It takes something serious to sendem packing. Deserted streets, little claw andteeth factories running scared? If ambushhad a smell, this place would be rank with it. Ineeded intel and fast.

I reached into the pocket of my coat andpulled out a whizzer. I whispered the activa-

tion word into my wrist watch, and the faceexpanded into a two-by-two-inch screen andthe puck-sized whizzer hovered obediently,awaiting commands. I whispered a commandinto the watch, and it flew into the alley aboutthirty feet above street level, its small turbofanmaking almost no noise.

The view in the screen made my blood runcold. There were six Rilleans in that alley. Nowonder everything took off. Take a velocirap-

tor the old earth archaeologists were so fondof, make it seven to eight feet tall, about five

hundred pounds with a human-sized brain,and you have a Rillean. I was sure they hadmy scent by now. If I ran they would be on myass in a heartbeat. They were reputed to haveeaten POWs in their war with the Togan, and Ihad no intention of being dinner.

I pulled my shield pistol from its holster. Itwas one of a kind, and if anything could dropa Rillean quick, this was it. It formed a forcefield around a rice-sized pellet that acted asboth battery and computer after leaving the

barrel. A range finder on the pistol determinesrange to target, and the pellet shuts down onefoot past the subject, terminating the field.This helps cut down on collateral damage. Abullet can punch through three feet of steelbefore the battery overloads from the strain.I set it to the highest setting, fifty cal, with afive round burst.

There were six though, and they were lousywith reflexes and speed. I needed to eventhings up a bit. Screw that hero crap. I had

to move fast though; they had my scent andwould be getting antsy at my not showing upfor dinner by now. I whispered new commandsinto the watch. The whizzer moved directlyover the green bastards and dropped rightin the middle of them. The explosion shookthe dust on the pavement, and I threw myselfbackwards to land on my back, pistol aimedat the alleyway. I heard snarls of rage andpounding feet heading my way. I had hoped

to get all of them, but their reflexes and bodyarmor ruined that dream.

The first Rillean burst out of the alleywayand fired two rounds from its meat-grindertoward where I would have been standing. Ianswered with a burst from my pistol. It hadno recoil, but the crack it made as the roundswent supersonic satisfied me in a strange way.I heard a dull, thudding noise as the bulletspenetrated the flexi-armor and kept going. Itfell on its face and gave a twitch before deathseized it. How many survived the explosion?I had no way to know. The next one was a bit

more cautious. It stuck its arm around thecorner and pointed another meat grinder inmy general direction. I flipped my coat overmy head as buckshot flew my way. My ownflexi-armor stopped the few rounds that hit,but it was hell on the body. It wouldnt standup to repeated hits from double-ought at closerange either. The shells made hollow plasticnoises as they fell to the ground. I fired backover my shoulder and the Rilleans arm hastilydrew back amid chunks of falling masonrybroken loose from my badly aimed shots.

There were eight rounds left in the hugeten-shot twelve gauge pistol Rilleans loveto use. I rolled onto my stomach and aimedat the alleyway. Once again the arm snakedaround the corner, its meat-grinder ready tobark death. I let loose a burst at the wall, thefive rounds punched through the bricks andinto the lizard behind them. Two down, howmany left?

Torva Primeby Chip Meador

T P i b Chi M d P


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Torva Prime, by Chip Meador Pg. 21


It was quietwas that it? I stood up, mygun held in a white knuckle grip. I advanceda step and listened for anything that wouldindicate life in the alley. I never expected it tocome from above. A piece of debris fell to theground. I looked up to see a Rillean clingingto the wall above me, one arm mangled badly

from the whizzers blast; tough bastard. Duringthe action, it had climbed up the wall withonly one arm and now dove to the attack. Idanced to the side and brought my gun up, buta lightning punch from the thing caught me inthe shoulder area.

I heard the crack of my collar bone morethan felt it as it broke from the force of the jab. I fell back a couple of yards and regainedmy footing. It rushed me in a burst of speed,but rather than punch or kick like I expected,

the lizard whirled in place bringing its tailaround, catching me in the side. I fired blindlyin the direction of the scaly thing as I rocketedsideways and hit the wall.

The pain brought me around. Breathingwas like sucking in lava, gotta be broken ribsin there. My collar bone hurt like hell too. Imanaged to roll over. Wall Crawler was onthe ground, still, silent. I must have hit it, gotdamn lucky. I was sure the others were dead.If any were still alive they would have finishedme when I was out cold. I pressed a button onmy watch; a face appeared on the screen. Thesmile on that lovely face faded fast. I must lookrough.

Vince! What happened?

I was gonna meet with Manny the Snitch, itwas a setup. I got messed up pretty bad. God,it was hard to talk. Every breath was agony.

I have your signal now! Be there in tenminutes. Hold on, love.

I managed a sitting position, gun ready. Allthese bodies were going to attract attentionfrom scavengers, human and otherwise. I hadno intention of making it easy for someone

to take advantage of my condition. The copswould be on the way as well. Even a corruptgroup like that couldnt ignore a small war. Iheard the hover car before I saw it. I lookedup to see my princess vehicle descending tothe street, then everything went black for thesecond time that night.

Chip Meador

Chip Meador has loved Science Fictionsince the age of 14. He decided to take a

chance with Ray Gun Revival and tell a few

stories.

F t d A ti t L S it ki Pg


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Featured Artist: Lev Savitskiy Pg. 22


Name: Lev Savitskiy

Age: 22

Country of residence: Ukraine, butat the moment Im a PhD student inSweden

Hobbies: Photography, Photoshop,BMX, exoc animals, magic tricks

Favorite Book / Author: Strugatskiebrothers, Sergei Lukjanenko, NikPerumov, Isaac Asimov

Favorite Arst: Ivan Aivazovskiy :)

My favorite digital arsts are:Marek Okon, Gary Tonge, DanielKvasznicza, Ryan Church

When did you start creang art?I started roughly at the age of13. Those were mainly abstractexperiments in Photoshop that gaveme knowledge of many tools.

What media do you work in?Photoshop CS4, Vue 6

Featured Artist Lev Savitskiy

Feat red Artist Le Sa itski Pg 23


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Where your work has been featured? I was featured in a couple of Russian, Bulgarian, and Ukrainian magazines. I wasfeatured on the ExpoPhoto 2008 in Moscow, and also on all websites Im registered, where at least one of my works wasfeatured. :)

Where should someone go if they wanted to view / buy some of your works? My website is the best place:www.pr3t3nd3r.com/

Also you can nd my works and prints

here: http://pr3t3nd3r.deviantart.com/

How did you become an arst? I alwayswanted to learn to paint, but I my skillswerent that good. :) Thanks to the digitalera, Photoshop gave me the chance

to express myself. Also, my brothersuggested to post my works on one ofthe most popular Russian websites,www.photosite.ru. I think it all startedfrom then.

What were your early inuences? I hadnone in my early stages of development.If you take my space period, my most

beloved arsts and mentors were JeGucken Michelmann and TobiasPr3t3nd3r Roetsch.

What are your current inuences? Iknow most of the space arsts from

DA (deviantART) by now, and all ofthem inuence my works in one way or

Featured Artist: Lev Savitskiy Pg 24
http://www.pr3t3nd3r.com/http://pr3t3nd3r.deviantart.com/http://www.photosite.ru/http://www.photosite.ru/http://pr3t3nd3r.deviantart.com/http://www.pr3t3nd3r.com/


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another. Also, I nd NASA photos very inspiraonal.

What inspired the art for the cover? I just came up with this idea of acouple sing on a bench and watching the rise of the planet. At that

moment I couldnt make the foreground like that but I saw techoveridehad done exactly what I was looking for, so I suggested making acollaboraon with him, and he sent me a foreground version. :) The idea

of dawn came later when I was playing with dierent sky photos to t.

I like thats its very simple, but sll conveys some strong emoons.

For me personally, it also was a rather experimental piece where Irst worked with silhouee gures and implied new technique for the

planet.

How would you describe your work? Worst deviaons ever? :D

Where do you get your inspiraon / what inspires you? NASA photos,also funny videos seems to inspire me the best. :) And nally, sci-

novels are also very strong source of inspiraon.

Have you had any notable failures, and how has failure aected yourwork? Sure I had! But luckily most of them didnt get on DA or any othersite! :D My most notable failures were when I was rst introduced to

the space scene and tried to make my own pictures. I couldnt describethe frustraon I had when aer spending a whole day on one planet it

turned out completely awful comparing to planets of other space arsts

who were famous by then.

What have been your greatest successes? How has success impactedyou / your work? I guess, my most sasfying and successful worksare Epsilon Lyrae (collab with Jorik Akajork Dozy), Cradle and Scarlet



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Flower, which recently brought me rst place in an internaonal contest

and $200! :)

What are your favorite tools / equipment for producing your art?

Photoshop CS4, 3d Studio Max, Vue 6, Canon 400D and Wacom Intuos3What tool / equipment do you wish you had? Its not about tools, I wish Icould paint a lot beer with my hands :)

What do you hope to accomplish with your art? I hope that someday Iwill be able to depict any scene that comes up in my mind exactly the wayI see it.



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Calamitys Child Chapter Six Rites of Passage - Dantes Fourth by Gaslight Part Two by M Keaton Pg 27


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Calamity s Child Chapter Six, Rites of Passage - Dante s Fourth, by Gaslight, Part Two by M. Keaton Pg. 27


Part Two

She faced west, into the setting sun. Asthe odd-on favorite, Roses matches werealways last. Ivan protested it as unfair until sheexplained that her ocular implants adjustedautomatically. With the wind in his face andlooking into the sun, he could almost ignorethe crowd pressed against the ropes encirclingthe duel.

Over four hundred duelists and would-begunfighters plus their seconds had arrived on

Toulouse for the Salle des Armes. By Ivansreckoning, that was at least a thousand peoplewith guns and itchy fingers. He had spent hisfirst two days twitching at shadows beforeboredom conquered caution. Rose did not facean opponent until the field was reduced to thefinal one hundred; the first week of the Sallewas spent sorting out the newcomers, sepa-rating dreamers and pretenders from actualcontenders.

For a man who lived daily with the bloody

realities of armed conflict, the sterilizedversion performed for the entertainment ofthe Fancy was uncomfortable and vaguely dis-gusting. Once the novelty of sleeping late andeating rich wore off, the long days borderedon misery. In hindsight, that first week was acakewalk. There was something very wrongabout watching someone you cared about getshot at for fun.

They stood at the base of a low hill. The

grassy berm formed a kind of impromptubleachers for the spectators. The meadow atits base was flat enough to provide comfort-able footing. There were four other duelingfields but only this one was currently in use.

Her opponent was a child, maybe a yearor two older than Kylee but nowhere near asmature, unaugmented and overflowing withself-importance. She looked at Rose withalternating waves of awe and arrogance. Roseignored her.

The judges conferred, one last check toinsure neither combatant opted for live fire.They had not; it would be a bloodless contest.The judges removed the gold ammunitionseals, let the duelists load.

The judges drew back and the gunnersstepped to their marks. The crowd buzzed withthe frenzy of last minute bets, then sucked ina collective breath and held it silently as thereferee raised his handkerchief. Released it.

Red lights flashed across the girl before hergun cleared its holster. A sneer crept acrossRoses lips. She ejected the clip, tossed ittoward a judge. The crowd released its breathas a roar. Some threw hats into the air; othersripped betting stubs in frustration.

The duelists met at the center for the tradi-tional handshake, Rose scowling, the girl witha timid smile.

Go home! Rose snapped. Throw your

gun in the river and get out of here. Never lookback. Get a real life. She thrust the girls handaway. Stay at this, and all youll get is dead!She spun and walked away. The girl began tocry, put her face in her hands and ran into thecrowd.

Cold, Ivan observed as Rose stompedpast him.

Effective, Rose returned. I hope.

The field was down to eight.

#

Knock, knock.

Whos there?

Red Dog.

Red Dog who?

Red Dog.

No, great one, you dont understand. Intraditional human...

Graves put his head in his hands and triedto ignore the two-stooge routine taking placebehind him. He had spent a lot of time ignoringthings in the last week. It might be the onlyreason he was still sane.

They were on the last leg of their journey

Calamitys ChildChapter Six, Rites of Passage - Dantes Fourth, by

Gaslight, Part Two

by M. Keaton

Calamitys Child Chapter Six Rites of Passage - Dantes Fourth by Gaslight Part Two by M Keaton Pg 28


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Calamity s Child Chapter Six, Rites of Passage Dante s Fourth, by Gaslight, Part Two by M. Keaton Pg. 28


to Earth, but he still had not figured out how tosalvage the disaster House handed him. Gravesoriginal plan was risky but simple. The Kwakiutlowed him a favor, and they happened to alsobe the most skilled technicians on the Frontier;if anyone could crack a senatorial database, theKwakiutl were the people to turn to. He had

asked for their best. He had received

Knock, knock.

No! Graves shouted. No more.

Red Dog is bored, buzzed the two-tonalien standing in the cabin behind him. Gravessaid no more drumming.

No. No more drumming. If you two haveto do something, figure out how were going tomake this work.

Red Dog requires Priest to make plan.

Of course, great one.

Graves put his fingers in his ears. The tech-nicians of the Kwakiutl were a select cadre oftheir clergy called the Hamatsa. Maybe it wasthe other way around and the clergy wereselected from the technicians. He asked theKwakiutl for their best; they had sent Priest. Atleast, Graves thought that was his name.

That had been the beginning of the ignoring.The Hamatsa did not have names; they sacri-ficed them to Kakwas, mythical king of goats.Or something like that. The little man with thehigh pitched voice had talked for almost twohours straight, explaining it all to Graves inpainful detail. Graves tuned out as soon as herealize he could call the man Priest and get ananswer.

For a chance to bring down Casey, Gravesknew the perfect second manIvan Ste-ponovich. Ostensibly, Ivan would be there torepresent House as a member of the originalsalvage crew. Priest could explained away asa highly placed official from the Frontier thatGraves was escorting to Earth, a gesture of dip-

lomatic goodwill.

Except that Ivan was busy. House sentthe Cillian instead. The one person Gravesabsolutely could not hide, much less explainaway on the basis of goodwill. From there,he assumed it could not get worse. He reallyshould have known better.

To Graves amazement, the Kwakiutl werefamiliar not only with Cillians, but Red Dogspecifically. The Kwakiutl, or at least Priest,

believed Red Dog to be an avatar of one oftheir gods of destruction. Red Dog, in turn,was a potlatch fanatic. Only the fact that Priestwas human prevented the entire trip from dis-solving into a mutual admiration society. It wasstill enough to keep Graves stocked in splittingheadaches for the duration. His entire plan wasgoing down in flames and he could not concen-trate long enough to figure out how to save it.

Knock, knock, Red Dog rumbled.

Mister Graves, I believe we have a plan.Priest appeared in the seat next to him in aswirl of bright red silk. He perched on the armof the seat, feet on the cushion. The mans thinbuild and billowing robe made him look like abird.

Im not going anywhere, Graves sighed.

Priest rested his forearms on his knees.As we understand it, your plan requires three

people. One to hack the database, one to keepwatch for the hacker, and one to distract thecommittee. In addition,

Ray Gun Revival magazine, Issue 51

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