Planet Magazine No. 8

8/14/2019 Planet Magazine No. 8

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McCann's

Wild SF, Fant asy, Horror , Humor, Poet ry Online Vol. 2 .4 FREE!

INSIDE THIS SHAPE-CHANGING ZINE:

Science Fiction by Joy Cambell & Ben Stivers, Wayne Deeker,Andrew G. McCann, Frederick Rustam, Steven Thorn.Horror by Larry Calvert.Poetry by L. Norton, Paul Semel, s.c. virtes.

Illustrations by Romeo Esparrago, Ray Villarosa.


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Planet Magazine Asks: " Shouldn't a 'carrot -t op' have green hair?"

Pl a ne t Ma g az i n e , V o l . 2 , No . 4 ; D e c e m b e r 1 9 9 5 ( t h i s is t h e 8 t h i s su e )

W eb p a g e: < h t t p : / / w w w . t i ac . ne t / u se r s/ ag m / i nd e x. ht m l >

Ed i t o r & P u b l i s h e rAndrew G. McCann

Co v e r A r t i s t

Romeo Esparrago

Cover Tit le: "Encount er Bet ween Friedberg & Bad Nauheim." On leave (during World War I) ,

t he Dread Baron meets t he legendary Snow Giant of Germany, while flying above t he wint ry

forest bet ween the towns of Bad Nauheim & Friedberg. Neither t he Dread Baron nor the Giant

could foresee that many, many decades later, Bad Nauheim & Friedberg would be embroiled in a

bit t er dispute over t he tit le of being t he "Second Home of Elvis" .... Inspired by a photo of t he

Fokker DR.1 t riplane taken by David T. Okamura . Tools: Mac Performa

578, Painter, Wacom ArtZ tablet, and lotsa cranberry juice.

WHAT IS PLANET MAGAZINE?

Planet Magaz ine is a free quart erly of science fict ion, fantasy, horror, poet ry, and humor

writt en by beginning or lit t le-known writers, whom we hope t o encourage in t heir pursuit of

t he perfect story . There could be ot her reasons we're doing this, of course, mot ivations that are

obscure and uncomfortable; instincts linked perhaps to primal, nonreasoning urges regarding

power and procreat ion the very same forces, no doubt, t hat drowned the At lanteans and t heir

alabaster-t owered oceanic empire. And the Dark Gods laff ed.

Anyway, Planet is nationally dist ribut ed in electronic fo rm ( t ext and full-color versions) via

t he Worldwide Web, American Online, CompuServe, eWorld, New York Mac Users Group

(NYMUG) BBS, and Ct hulhu knows where else. We guess t hat t ot al circulat ion is something like

50 0-1 ,00 0 per issue worldwide. Who can say? Feel free t o pass t his magazine along

elect ronically or as a single print out , as long as you don't charge for it or alter it in any way.

We we lcome submiss ions (det ails below). Planet does not carry any advertising or offer

an official subscription service (but it can always be found every t hird mont h in cert ain

locat ions; see below). Lett ers t o t he editor are welcome and are likely t o be printed. Send

quest ions or comments t o agm@t iac.net .


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SUBMISSIONS POLICY

Planet Magaz ine accepts original short st ories, poems, one-act plays, and odds-and-ends

(use t he lengt hs in this issue as guidelines), as well as original accompanying illustrat ions. We

prefer unpublished SF, fant asy, horror, poet ry, humor, et c., by beginning or litt le-known

writ ers (we eschew st ories published in ot her e-zines, as well as porno, gore, and mainframe

soft ware manuals). Because this e-mag is free and operates on a budget of $ 1.07 per annum,

we can't afford to pay anything except the currency of free publicity and life-enhancing good

vibes (that and $2.80 will get you a sesame bagel with cream cheese, a small coffee, and a copy

of t he "Times," but it 's st ill a wake-up call to t he Muse t o see your name in print ).

St o r y s u b m i ss i o n s: Send stories, poems, etc., as St uff It - or ZipIt -compressed ASCII t ext

files to agm@t iac.net . Two submissions max at a t ime, please.

I l l u s t r a t i o n s u b m i s s i o n s : Send only one or two illustrations per story as separate, stuffed

and binhexed 16 -color, 16-gray, or B&W pict files to agm@t iac.net . We're open t o cover ideas

(holiday, seasonal, t opical t hemes are best) ; query first .

DISTRIBUTION SITES

Planet is dist ribut ed in three electronic versions t ext -only (readable by Windows or

Macint osh, using a word-processing prog ram) , Acrobat PDF (f ull-color version readable by

Windows or Mac, using t he free, downloadable Acrobat Reader), and DOCmaker ( full-color

version wit h sounds, readable by Mac only; needs no ot her soft ware). Some of t hese files may

be compressed wit h St uff It (a .sit f ile); you'll need St uff It Expander, or similar, t o decompress

t hem. This zine can be downloaded from t he following sources, among others:

For t hose wit h W or ldW ide W eb access, check out Planet ' s home page at

htt p:/ / www.t iac.net / users/ agm/ index.ht ml. From there, you can download any issue.

The Am er i ca On li ne Writ er' s Club Forum ( keywo rd: WRITERS; t he rout e is The Writer' s

Club: Writ er's Club Libraries: Elect ronic Magazine Library) , which carries all t hree versions.

Also, AOL's Science Fict ion & Fant asy Forum ( keyword: SCIENCE FICTION; the pat h is Science

Fict ion & Fant asy: The Science Fict ion Libraries: Member Fict ion & Script s Library). And in

t he Macworld soft ware library (keyword: MACWORLD; check out t he soft ware library' s new

uploads section) .

The CompuServe Science Fict ion & Fant asy Forum ( go: SFLIT; look in t he Science Fict ion

literat ure library) . This l ibrary carries only t he t ext version.

The eW or ld SF, Fant asy & Horror Forum ( comand-g: SF) ; t he full pat h is Art s & LeisurePavilion: Forum s: Science Fict ion, Fant asy & Horror: Alexandria Rest ored : In Print . Also,

Ziff net' s Soft ware Center ( command-g: ZIFF); t he full path is Soft ware Center f rom

Ziff Net/ Mac: Edit or' s Choice Library: Elect ronic Publications: Addit ional Publications ( unless

they've moved it).

The NYMUG BBS (New York Mac Users Group) carr ies t he DOCmaker and PDF versions in

it s Elect ronic Pubs fo lder or it s Science Fict ion files in the New Uploads fo lder.


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At 24 00 baud, t he text f ile takes a few minutes t o download, while t he DOCmaker file t akes about

15 minut es (set your modem to " stun") . At 96 00 , though, t he DOCmaker version takes only

about 5 minutes to download. At 1 4,400 o r 28,8 00 + kbps, download 'em all. The DOCmaker

version is the coolest (starting with Planet 1.3, you can click on the illustrations and get a

special surprise).

COPYRIGHTS, DISCLAIMERS

Planet Magaz ine as a whole, including all text , design, and illust rat ions, is copyright

199 5-1996 by Andrew G. McCann. However, all individual st ories and poems in this magazine

are copyright 19 95 -19 96 by t heir respective aut hors or artists, who have grant ed Planet

Magazine t he right t o use these works for t his issue in both elect ronic and print ed forms. All

people and events port rayed in this magazine are ent irely fict it ious and bear no resemblance to

actual people or event s. This publicat ion, along wit h every past issue of Planet Magaz ine , is

registered wit h the Copyright Off ice of t he U.S. Library of Congress. You may freely dist ribut e

t his magazine elect ronically on a non-commercial, nonprof it basis t o anyone and print one copy

for your personal use, but you may not alt er or excerpt Planet in any way wit hout direct

permission from t he publisher . Planet Magaz ine is published by Cranberry

St reet Press, Brooklyn, N.Y., Andrew G. McCann, publisher.

COLOPHON

Composed on an Apple Quadra 60 5 and PowerMac 61 00 / 66 using DOCmaker 4.1 and 4.5, Tex-

Edit Plus 1.6, and Adobe Exchange 2.1 . Text is 10 point Geneva and 12 point Helvet ica; t he

logot ypes are Times. Illust rat ions done in Color It ! 3.0 . Every issue sprayed wit h Yet i-Ban.


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" If Elect ed, We Prom ise a Crashed Saucer in Every Backy ard!"

THE MOON OF MARS

There is a g rea t , ongo ing debat e regarding " The Face" a hill on Mars, phot ographed

from space, whose depressions and ridges collect ively appear to f orm t wo eyes, a nose, and an

open mouth, framed by a very bad haircut . Many people say t his " face" represents a message to

Eart h, a deadly warning even, trumpet ing t o all who are aware enough to listen: " We are here in

your solar syst em! We have a base on Mars built wit h t he help of t he Secret World Government

of your planet ! We will usher in a New World Order t hat will make the ' X-Files' seem like an

episode of 'American Bandstand'! Behold our works, ye puny, and t remble!" (A lthough t hat' s a

long-winded message that sounds suspiciously like something we would make up, adherents

insist it ' s accurat e and based on careful telescopic lip-reading.)

All that is well and good. And we look forward t o serving a second set of Alien Masters. But

Planet Magaz ine feels it 's imperat ive to point out a new, more ominous development . Recent

phot os of Mars smuggled out of NASA's high-security image-processing facilit y in Taos, New

Mexico, by a t alking dog we befriended show anot her feature of t he Martian surface heretof ore

kept as a secret of t he highest order. Exact ly halfway round t he Martian globe from t he The

Face, there are t wo parallel, sandy-red mounds yes, The But t ocks of Mars!

Exactly why would our fut ure controllers seek t o "moon" us? Does t his signify a menacing

disdain portending some fearful twist in t he accept ed scenario of t heir eventual domination? Or,

by showing us t heir "crack," are t hey saying, " We are like drunken rock-band roadies or

bloated refrigerator repairmen, seeking nothing but money, sex, and narcotics for substandard

work" ? Or, perhaps, the face and butt ocks of Mars imply that t he planet it self is the body

(however distended), and that we should now be looking for The Arms and The Legs of Mars for

furt her clues to t he Aliens' plans?

Al l o f t hese a l t e r na t i ve pat hs a r e unwe lcom e , in our view. We were hoping for a

st rict , organized hierarchy t o t ake possesion of Earth as soon as possible; one t hat we could

figure out , learn to work w it h, rise up wit hin eventually gaining t he top post in the Earth

Colony, as well as permission to humbly t ravel to t he Alien home planet t o become t he firstEart hling member of t he Galactic Emperor's Most Royal Court . Maybe, one day, we'd even

become t he Court 's w izened Scribe-Edit or, one who publishes alien SF in his spare time and

perhaps has the ear (or whatever organ) of The Highest Cosmic Personage Itself.


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Thus, Planet Magaz ine calls on t he Secret World Government t o immediately launch a probe

t oward t his new Mart ian feat ure, quickly collect t he necessary samples, and speedily

disseminate t he appropriat e disinformat ion t o t he off icially recognized f orums:

alt .alien.visit or, " Encounters," and Newt Gingrich's presidential-campaign advance t eam.

Awaiting Alien Orders,

Andrew G. McCann, Edit-bot v1.01aPlanet Magazine, December 1995

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

D e ar Ed i t o r : I have been reading your e-zine since Issue 1; it 's very good. I not ed in Issue 6

t hat you would provide an alert t o us "regulars" when an issue was post ed. I'd like t o get such a

service; it will save me wasting time looking when it's not yet posted; or missing an issue when

it is.

Thanks in advance,

John

via AOL

[ Uhhh, did we say t hat? By gosh we did! OK, we will add you to t he alert list . And thanks for

t he e-compliment . By t he way, you can download back issues from our Web site at

. Editor]

Dear Ed i t o r : Hi, I really like Planet Magazine ( I've downloaded 6 issues so far) . I'd like to

know: 1) What is the lat est issue? 2) Where can I get it ? (AOL seems t o have re-arranged t he

writers forum and I can't seem to locate the e-zine library. Also, a search for "Planet Magazine"

yielded not hing.

Thanks in advance,Ian R.

via AOL

P.S. You should get more stories by Rick Blackburn. " The Bombardment " in issues 2 and 3 was

EXCELLENT!

[ Y'hear t hat, Rick? In re t he e-zines library on AOL, the moderat ors did manage to hide it

fairly well, but t rust us, it IS t here. You just have t o hit t he " More" but t on. Meant ime, if you

ever need to f ind an issue, just visit our Web page at

and download away.]

D e ar E d i t o r : Finished reading t he current issue of Planet Mag, simply Excellent !!! Every

story was well writ t en, and t he comment aries/ correspondence a good read! I look forward to t henext...

The Very Best ,

David

via t he Int ernet

P.S. Do you have hardcopy, would like to def initely purchase!

[ We do print a few hard copies, but we' re mainly an electronic 'zine. See our Web site,


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download t he pdf version, and print t hat on colored paper (bot h sides). Then you' ll have your

own copy every bit as good as what we'd come up with.]

Dear Ed i t o r : I was wondering if Planet Magazine does reviews of books, part icularly

elect ronic books sold through t he Int ernet . Our company, Heron View Lit erary Services, is a

small press operating ent irely t hrough t he World Wide Web, specializing in new authors. We

also collect and publish on our home page the crit icism and reviews of our readers, t o provide

our aut hors feedback t o help t hem hone t heir craft . Our current catalog has 3 works of SF on it,

wit h anot her coming this wint er. If you would like t o t ake a look at t hem, samples are available

on our home page at ....

Sincerely,

Garilyn St rawn

Heron View Lit erary Services

[ Planet Magazine does not review books, but we do print let t ers!]

Dear Ed i t o r : Dropped by [ your Web sit e] while out indexing "A ft erNoon Magazine" . I' ll have

t o stop by again when I have more t ime. We're supporters of speculat ive fict ion even though we

don't have any on Mot ley Focus right now.

My Best ,

St ephen Williamson

" Af t erNoon Magazine" URL:

LETTERS TO THE ICE MONSTERS

Dear Fros t Gian t : Welcome t o The Galact ic Alliance's " All Lawful Int elligences Emergency

Network," or ALIEN! You have reached t he bridge of t he U.S.S. Porkchop, t he closest st arship t oyour sect or of t he galaxy. We're sorry, but no one is available at t he moment t o t ake your

subspace call; everyone is eit her on anot her call or away from t heir st at ion. Please list en

carefully t o t he following opt ions: If you' re reactor core is melting down, press 1. If you are

under at t ack by aliens, relat ively speaking, press 2. If you are t hreatened by an unknown

virus, press 3. If you have anot her type of emergency, press 4 and leave a message. Please

remember t o speak slowly in the Galact ica dialect and to carefully give your name, your

Universal time zone, and your space coordinat es. If you'd st ill like t o speak wit h an operator ,

remain on the line and someone will be with you shortly.

Thank you!

Lt . Flo Threau-Kondomm

Director, G.A./ A.L.I.E.N.

Dear Yet i : Just because I'm a puppet doesn't mean I deserve t o be t reated like a dummy!

St i f f ly ,

Mary-Annette

I'[email protected]

Dear Abominab le Snowperson : Humor is oft en found in t he use of devices like repetit ion.

For example, serial murder, although not generally seen as "comic," can get pretty funny after


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a while.

St an Dinne Firmm

Iam@Wit send.org

Dear Wind igo : Hello. Let ' s begin your weekly e-therapy session. As always, since neither of

us can figure out how t o set up an IRC or Internet t elephonic link, and because t herapy by e-

mail is so necessary yet so one-sided, I'll t ry t o anticipat e your answers. Here goes: How are

you feeling today? Oh? Is that because of something that happened today between you and your

wife? your boss? your dealer? And how does that remind you of your relat ionship with your

mot her? No, let' s not t alk about your fat her just yet . Int erest ing... maybe next session we

should look at why you t hink I " sound like Bob Newhart." OK, your t urn (and don't forget t o

attach an e-check to your reply),

Blaine Klook

Accredit ed Ralphing guide

[email protected]

D e ar D i r e W o l f : I'm a worried mot her. My infant son is not doing well wit h his disk-

maint enance t raining: His hard disk is badly fragment ed, and he never backs up any data, even

t hough I bought him a Zip drive. Further, he doesn't seem t o want t o go online, even though I've

given him Microsoft Blob. All he wants to do is go outside and play. Do you know the name of a

good child-development professional? I don't want my boy t o become cybernet ically challenged

a freak and t he butt of jokes, like your "magazine."

Ram Dubbler

via t he Ult ranet

Dear Fr os t y : In t his dog-eat-dog-eat-dog world of t oday, being No. 1 is no longer good

enough. You've got t o be No. 0.

Best,

I.M. Wackt

Part [email protected]

Dear Gr inch : I just bought a lovely set of Lagerfeld curtains for my high-tech loft in

Williamsburg, which overlooks t he picturesque bridge of t he same name and the dark, brooding

river known only as "East." My quest ion is: Do you know if t hese drapes will be compat ible with

Windows 95 ?

Jay L. Bat e

IM@t heHQof t heb.org

Dear Mr . Freeze : Excuse me, but is this eWorld? I'm t rying t o find t he Technology and

Spirt ualit y Forum t o ask whet her God support s Syst em 7 .5' s Drag Manager. This is because He

is t ruly my icon, and I'm wondering if he'll move his Heavenly Mouse and drag and drop my soul

ont o him. Hey, pret t y neat idea, huh? Careful, t hough, it 's pat ented!Br ist l in ' wit h Lawyers,

Anita Anser

[email protected]

Dear Whit e Queen: I'm seeking funding for my new movie, imaginatively titled "Ayre

Brusche," about a young, naive-but-determined gal from the Midwest seeking

"meaningingfulness" in life by becoming a Las Vegas showgirl. Alt hough she doesn't mind


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showing off her body in scene aft er scene, or in sleeping around to get t o where she want s to go

who hasn't ? she does wrestle wit h such very-human doubts as t o whet her the idiot who

packed her latest very-spangly order f rom t he Spiegel close-out catalog really was on drugs at

t he time, or not . I mean, what is with these catalog companies? They didn't even get her middle

in it ial r ight !

"Breast" regards,

Harry R Truperson

bot t [email protected]

Dear Jack F r os t : I've got a lot of problems, it' s true. Some of t hese I haven't faced, such as

my inabilit y t o follow post al regulat ions. I guess you could say t hat envelopes are somet hing I

must address.

Bravely,

Lotta Probz

(In the breakfast nook)

Dear The Th ing : Just because I "have no experience" doesn't mean that t heat er should have

fired me. Af t er all, t he play was so dated, it was absurd. I st ill t hink I was correct in changing

t he ending: In my version, Mr. Godot walks in at t he end with his personal t rainer, having been

at t he Horizont al Club Gym cent ering his chi.

Waiting f or work,

Sam U. L. Baggit

[email protected]

D e a r W e r e - P o l a r B e a r : It 's a shame t hat Quebec's move t o secede from Canada failed. I had

been hoping t o purchase the f ledgling nat ion (using bridge loans, since I'm t echnically

bankrupt ) and re-sell it t o one of t he seven alien races current ly vying f or domination of Earth.

We then could have put everyone in Quebec on minimum wage, teach t hem English (so that I can

figure out what t he heck t hey're saying), and use nano-convert ers to rebuild the ent ire count ry

from t he ground up as a manufact ory of t he highly radioact ive Element Z+, which of coursepowers most common types of starcruisers.

Foiled Again,

Al Umanen

[email protected]

P.S. Apparent ly, some people have been of fended by my idea. I don' t know why. Af t er all, it 's

just good business. In fact , if you could have got t en in early on the deal, you would have seen

quit e a nice ret urn on your investm ent . Huh! Maybe next year. Well, " Aloha!", as t he French

say.

Dear S lee t Leopard : One day, many years ago, while wandering in the heart of Ol'

Chinat own, I took a wrong t urn and found myself walking down a narrow dirt lane rather odd

fo r t he Core of t he Big Apple. Anyway, t he buildings were st ill t all, but wooden, narrow, anddirt y, and they seemed t o crowd me as I began searching for a way back. There was no one about ,

save for a few pigs and a rooster, scrabbling in the hard-packed road. Somewhere a goat

coughed. Then I not iced that one shop, among all t he darkened doorways and windows, appeared

to be open.

The screen door creaked as I opened it. I peered about in the candle-lit gloom and spied a t iny

old man emerging f rom a back room. He glided up to me silent ly and held up an ancient ,


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enameled box carved int ricately in orange, blue, and yellow, and said: " In t his box is anot her

box. Inside that , anot her one. And so on, till they reach what your so-called scient ists call the

subat omic level; then it keeps going but reverses, and t he boxes get bigger and bigger, unt il,

well, that would be t elling, wouldn't it ?" His brown eyes t winkled up at me. " It has unknown

powers. Would you like to buy it for fif t y cent s?"

I looked at him, st unned, and don't ask me why I bought it . It was cheap, aft er all. Well, I

t ook it home, and t he box soon went int o a st orage closet and I forgot all about it . Then, one

fat eful day, when I was desparat e for beer money, I remembered t he box.

So I t ook it down from the closet shelf. I brought it t o a flea market. And I sold it f or $25! Boy,

t hat cash came in handy!

That Is My Sto ry,

Ray Bann

One Building Over

Dear I ce Worm: I'm wondering if y our readers can help me wit h some information f or my

master' s t hesis, which f ocuses on "The History o f People Put t ing Pencils Behind Their Ears."

Since I was child, I've been curious about how t hat all st art ed: Somewhere, somehow,

"somewhen," somebody f irst put a pencil behind his or her ear. I guess t hat probably happened

very soon aft er pencils were invent ed. Uh, do you know when t hat was?

Sharply,

E. " Ray" Seur

Graphit e, Pennsylvania

fr eet [email protected]

P.S. I just surfed t he Web for t he first t ime and accident ally downloaded a Java applet into my

pants. Can anyone help me with t his, t oo?

D e ar B l i z z a r d Ra t * : I like t o use cream cheese as a moisturizer. So what do I put on my

bagel in the morning? Window putt y! Haven't found a use yet for my Jergens maybe

caulking?

I' ll let you know,

Fern Dock

[email protected]

[ Now we're really makin' 'em up. The Edit or.]

D e a r F l u r r y G o r i l l a : People always talk about t he Sack of Rome like it was a big deal. Well,

I've seen the Sack, and it 's just an old burlap bag, about t wo feet by four feet . Sure, it may have

an image on it t hat' s t he likeness of The Savior, but t hat still doesn't compare to t he Shroud ofTurin, a one-mile-square blanket t hat t he Barbarians of t he Nort h flung over t hat poo r cit y oh-

so-long-ago. As you recall, this enormous object , sewn by t he barbarians' wives, put out all

the fires and plunged Turin into darkness for 40 days and 40 nights, with the Huns plundering

shops, homes, and palazzos t heir scurrying figures all t he while creat ing moving lumps

under The Great Shroud!

Informat ively,

Cal Igula


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Emperor@imperial_senate.gov.it

Dear Slush Yak: You know what really makes my blood boil? Being exposed to a hard

vacuum!

Art hur C. Bradbury

New Sri Lanka, Mars

Dear Leona: My girlfriend thinks I'm t oo upt ight . Just because I wear a t hree-piece suit t o

bed each night . I know t his is not a law journal, but is there any way I can sue her?

Kurt Komment

[email protected]

P.S. By the way, I was wonder ing somet hing: With all his money, how come Bill Gates can't get

a decent haircut?


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MIRRORS AND SLIVERS

(An Excerpt from "Metatropolis")

by Steven Thorn

The St a r sp i kes ar e so t a l l t hat, f rom space, they must appear as a beard of icicles

descending from t he round face of the Earth. Of course, t hey are not so tall. St ill, t he mirrored,

t hree-sided spikes ascend so high t hat, on clear days ball light ning gathers around t heir t ips,

curious sparkling ent ities t hat discharge t o earth in a violent flash t hat runs the lengt h of t he

spike.

And when the big storms t hat scour the surface of t he Earth rush over, t he tips of t he spikes

score irridescent st reaks in the soft underbelly of t he cloud. On these st ormy days, the

mirrored sides of t he spikes boil wit h t he storm 's ref lected swirling darkness.

When lightning strikes amongst the forest of spikes, its momentary illumination is re-reflected

and mult iplied, so t hat hours lat er, in t he stillness aft er t he passing of t he st orm, before t he

aurora's tempestuousnes envelopes t he evening with its spect ral shimmerings, the lightning can

st ill be seen, dancing amongst t he spikes.

Rigelspike is launching t oday. It is more t han t he light ning of sto rms past , trapped wit hin t hat


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gold-tint ed sliver, that t oday draws our eyes toward it.

The mirrors of t his cit y ( for it is now merely t hat; t here is no longer any escape velocit y t o

defy t he Earth' s t hickening gravity) seemingly ascend f urt her int o t he sky wit h each passing

week. Of course, this t oo is illusion. Maybe it is only our own increasing burden that makes the

spikes seem, on a calm autumn day like today, so much more towering.

Though fractured on the surfaces of the Starspikes each reflecting back the sky coloured by

it s own hues, creat ing a jagged and multiple horizon the blue-space-and-cloud mot t le,

reduced and captured t here, is ordered, too.

* * *

It ' s c u r i o u s: Each workday I ascend those st ruct ures and descend their out er surfaces, yet

from here, on the edge of t he ruined met ropolis where we Grounders live, t hey seem so alien, so

unfamiliar. I'm not really suit ed to my employ as a window washer; I t hink t oo much about

falling. That doesn't scare me, t hough. I see t he gulls and t he pigeons still defying gravity,

wheeling in the st range, high places betwen St arspikes. They t raverse t hose empt y geomet ries

so easily; I somet imes imagine t hat I would, too.

Up there the air hums, the noise of traffic below is little more than background static, and when

t he wind that precedes a storm soughs in, its current s pull, and I feel t he St arspike sway.

I wat ch myself in t hose enormous lying mirrors, and wat ch my self' s image blur wit h soapy

wat er when I sponge, and mat erialize wit h such dist urbing clarit y when I squeegee.

At cert ain conjunctions of space and light I glimpse my t ertiary, my quart enary, and higher

orders of selves t ransformed and reflect ed back so t hat occasionally I wonder if, in fact , t hatdistant person deep wit hin t he glass is not some ot her yellow-coveralled and capped window

washer, who merely delight s in mimicry of m e.

No, it is not t he prospect of f alling t o t he ground, that t oy landscape, that scares me, but f alling

into myself in that infinit e space.... That f ear grips me and sends my imagination reeling, so I

must st are and stare into myself, int o glimpses of t hose deeper selves, to ride out t hat

vert iginous fear.

Up t here, t he clouds drift by so close I could easily be seduced by t heir mat eriality t o step out ,

but only into the glass.

* * *

I p r e f e r no t t o wea r a ha r ness when I'm out in t he cradle, t hough Silverman, my

supervisor, insist s I must guild rules and insurance clauses. Nor am I supposed t o work

alone. But Silverman has, in his t went y years of cleaning and remirroring t he spikes,

developed an assort ment of voyuerist ic liaisons, which he relishes in describing t o me. So, as


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t o the night. Don't you see? My eyes are laughing also."

And we watch Rigelspike rise t rembling into t he blue. And t here is as much laughter as tears in

t heir eyes, but only wonder in the eyes of t heir child.

St ory copyright 19 95 -199 6 by Steven Thorn.

Il lustration copyright 1995-1996 by Ray Villarosa.


16/62

RADIO SILENCE

by Frederick Rustam

" It ' s dec ided, t hen. "

There was a murmur of agreement among t he colonists assembled in the Communit y Hall.

Although the meeting had been under way f or only a few minut es, a summary of t he problem

they had come to discuss had been disseminated by the InfoNet, last week, to every terminal in

t he village and out lying farms. Every member of t he commune had had a chance t o consider

alternat ives. It was a problem t hey had been discussing among t hemselves for some t ime.

Tonight, t hey were holding an old-fashioned folkmoot , as t hey always did for t he resolut ion of an

import ant mat t er. It had been easier t han it might have been.... One man had volunt eered.... In

t he restlessness of t he audience, a great relief was evident . There was also a good deal of

sympathy for the volunteer.

Some had felt t hey should hire an Assassin from Laagulaan, but t he Chairman count ered that t he

commune couldn't afford t o hire anyone of t hat caliber.... Left unsaid was t he widely felt

reluct ance t o bring a ninja of t hat dread Order into t he village, even t hough they were reputed to

be well-behaved professionals.

" Thank you all for coming t o discuss this," said the Chairman. " Now we have t o prepare our

volunt eer for his hunt . You should ret urn to your homes before it get s dark."

As the audience broke up and began t o leave, many of t hem looked back at t he volunt eer, who was

st ill sit t ing in his chair certain it would be the last t ime they would see him.... They knew he

had volunteered because he had recent ly become a widower, t he only one in t he village. He

deserved a double measure of sympat hy for having lost his wife in an unfort unat e accident,

and for t he consequent inevitability of his having to be t he one to slay the Dragon.


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* * *

John An ish inaabe ad just ed t he s t r aps which bound him t o t he flamethrower fuel t ank

above his small hippack. He had a lot of walking t o do, and he knew he would be fatigued when he

confronted the Dragon. The Commit t ee wouldn't let him use a packmule. They felt it would make

t oo much noise, and t hey feared he might grow t ired of packing t he heavy t ank and t ransfer his

only weapon to t he mule.... He had wanted to carry a radpistol, t oo. But t hey were afraid he

might rely on it , solely, wit h disast rous results. There were reports t hat radgun fire wasn't

lethal to t he Dragon.

" Now remember, you must maintain radio silence unless you're in dist ress," said t he comm

t ech ("Commo," t o t he village). If you need t o call covert ly for a pickup, lift t he hinged cap, and

push t he red but t on. It ' ll t ransmit a coded pulset rain on Emergency Two. If it 's received, our

gonio will get a fix. Try to be out in t he open when you do it. Then, we'll let you know we're

sending the Int erMedic helo."

"How do we know t he Dragon can't make the fix, itself?"

"We don't , for sure. But , we've kept t he code as short as we can, and still get a fix."

John shook his head. " I st ill can't see how an animal like t hat can intercept radio."

"He's got a port able on a cord around his neck," said Cephas, t he village joker.

"Knock it off , Ceph. Or, maybe you'd rather go, instead," said the Chairman.

" Not me! I was just t ryin' t o lighten up t hings."

Commo cont inued. " Look, John it ' s not an animal. It 's probably smarter t han us. Every

village t hat t ried to get it , using radios, has failed. It always seemed t o know where t hey were.

The guy from Plainsville I t alked to swears it ' s list ening. Says it skedaddles right af t er someone

radios a sight ing t o a posse."

"We just can't t ake any chances. You're pret t y much on your own, anyway. So, play it safe,"

added the village medic.

The Chairman continued his briefing. "Now, about the motorglider... she'll be loudflying near

you, but not centered on you. If she gets a radar motion contact, she'll call us on Emergency Two

and say she's coming in t o Mountainview field because she's running low on fuel. She'll give t he

cont act 's posit ion as her position.... When you hear her, key it into your helmet map. We justhave to hope the Dragon won't figure out what's going on.... Then, she'll go quiet and circle the

cont act unt il she hears from you, or she does run low.... Got it ?"

" If it picks up radio, won't it pick up open radar, t oo?"

" Maybe but , what can it do if it does? If it stops while she's emit t ing, it 's immobilized.

Anyway, when she gets a cont act , she'll t urn t he radar of f and rely on inf rared. She has your


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signat ure.... If t he Dragon heads for you, she'll use minimum t ransmit t er power t o make t he

Dragon t hink she's moved on and make anot her radio call to us. She'll say she's having engine

t rouble.... When you hear t hat second call watch out ."

"Got it .... You want t o t est t he radio before I leave?"

"No," replied Commo. " Not now, while the Dragon's on t he prowl. I checked it out t his

afternoon."

" OK. I'm ready."

"Douse t he light s," ordered the Chairman. Cephas jumped t o t he swit ch, perhaps to redeem

himself for his flippant remark.

John opened the door, and pulled down his night vision goggles. Under the sole illumination of the

stars, everything turned pale green. He took the first steps into the night.

"Good luck," called out t he Chairman. He spoke for all, but none of t hem expect ed t hat t heir

volunt eer would have much luck.

2.

W hen co lon i s t s began t o se t t l e Gr eenwor ld , t hey t hought it was the best planet yet

charted. Most of it was like the best of Old Earth, and better than any of the New Earths. They

built farms and villages, worked t he rich soil, tended domest ic animals, and hunt ed in the

forest s. Life t here was ideal for people willing t o accept t he limit ations of count ry life. There

was plenty of good land for the idealistic and disciplined who had learned, in the crowded cities of

t heir homeworlds, what t he really valuable things of life were. They became a rural people with

urban skills.

From Seaside, t hey spread out t oward t he mount ains, building individual communit ies of like-

mindeds. The villages were separat ed by ancient dif ferences, but linked int o a loose

confederation by radio and by a common desire to make Greenworld a paradise for them and their

decendants.

It wasn't very long before t hey discovered their wonderful new world had a cat ch: It belonged t o

a monster.

At first, hunters failed to return from the forests. Their discovered remains told a grisly story

of something hungry. Later, it came out of the forest to get their livestock. They knew there

were some predat ory animals on t he planet, but guard dogs usually kept t hem away. What everwas killing the livestock killed the dogs, too.

When children began to disappear, some posses of colonist s rushed off t o t he woods wit h guns and

hounds. The hounds had diff icult y wit h t he Dragon's scent t rails. Some hunters claimed it didn't

leave any an example of t he myths that began t o grow about t he beast.

Then, from a mot orglider, a pilot got a glimpse of t he monster in a clearing. She said it looked


19/62

like a " man-dragon" . They start ed calling it t he Dragon. As time passed, it became obvious t hat

t he monst er was as intelligent as humans, and possessed fo rmidable sensory powers. When a

hunter got a better look at it and radioed the sighting, the Dragon started for him right away,

even t hough he was hidden from sight .... His last t ransmission was a scream.

Later, someone had fired at it from a dist ance, with a radrifle. It ducked int o t he trees, and didn't

seem t o be badly hurt . No one had ever taken a close shot , and lived t o describe the results....

Fewer and fewer f oolhardy hunt ers went aft er it . The colonists hunkered down. Each farm and

village had it s int rusion alarms, but t he Dragon oft en defeated t hem, as if it had had a part in

devising t hem. It was then t hat t hey realized it could sense things no human could.

When it became act ive around Mount ainview, the villagers decided to go aft er it , using fire as a

weapon. They built a flamethrower. But, they needed was someone to wield it. They knew that

when a posse went after the Dragon, it got wind of them and laid low.... One man moving quietly

at night might have a chance.

3.John An ish inaabe headed f o r t he near by f oo t h i l l s. From the plotted sightings, the

villagers speculated t hat t he Dragon had a concealed den somewhere above t he plain, but below

t he high mount ains. They also guessed it hibernated during t he winter, when it could be t racked

by it s foot prints. That was when the killings stopped for a season.

It was a warm summer night. Under the canopy of leaves, starlight dimly illuminated the ground

Greenworld had no moon. Wit h his gogg les, he had lit t le diff icult y in seeing where he was

going. In his helmet , he had, in addit ion t o t he wide-f ield goggles, a sensit ive audiosensor. When

he stood st ill it would aut oswit ch f rom NORMAL to EXTENDED, and he could hear dist ant

sounds.... The helmet had been filched from a homeworld Special Forces unit by t he brot her of a

villager. John had t o learn how t o use it by reading a tech manual and practicing in t he woodsnear the village.

When he reached some rocks on a cleared knoll, he pulled himself t o t he top and stood quiet ly.

The helmet had an IR mot ion-alarm which was supposed to not ify him if it det ected anyt hing

warm and moving behind him. There was a chemical sniff er-alarm in t he helmet , t oo. But , t hey

hadn't been able for obvious reasons to reset it for the Dragon's odor. He faced off in four

direct ions and listened, carefully.... He heard only t he usual night noises, much amplified.

As John stood motionless on the rocks, watching and listening for something that would show he

was on t he right t rack, he reflect ed on t he legendary hunting skill of his ancest ors of Old Earth

t he ancient ones who lived beside the inland seas. John's surname demonst rated t he

determinat ion of his forebears to remember t hose ancest ors. By now, t hough, John's genes wereso admixed wit h those of ot her peoples t hat his appearance was unremarkable. His conception of

himself as an Ojibwa was a pearl that he had shared wit h no one, except his wife, now dead. She,

herself, had been descended f rom t he Dinee, the people of t he great dry land.

St ill, he found himself wishing t hat one of t hose ancest ral forest warriors, wit h his arrows and

throwing tomahawk, were beside him now. His skills might be more useful than all the fancy

tech-stuff in his stolen helmet.


20/62

He mut ed t he audiosensor t o check on t he VHF-AM radio receiver. He knew he wasn' t supposed t o

t ransmit except in an emergency, but he f elt a lit t le more secure listening t o t he soft

background hiss of t he receiver.... Emergency Two was quiet . He should have no t rouble hearing

t he motorglider pilot if his at t ention weren't capt ured by somet hing immediate.

He fingered the XMIT switch on the side of the helmet. It was jammed with a thin wooden dowel

which would break if he pushed the swit ch hard, but would keep him f rom making a mist ake

which might reveal his posit ion.

He wished t he village would transmit occasionally t o reassure him t hat he was still connected t o

t hem, but t hey were afraid t he Dragon would int ercept t heir signals and guess it was being

hunted. He restored the audiosensor, with its crickety sounds, and clambered back down the

rocks. At t he bot t om, he brought up t he map display in his goggles and headed for t he area where

t he most sight ings were plott ed. Thereabout s, he would look for a cave. If t he Dragon lived t here

but was not inside, just t hen he would wait f or it wit h his fiery t orch.

* * *

John was t h r ead ing h i s way t hrough t he trees and shrubs, st umbling occasionally.

Suddenly, he stopped. Ahead, he he saw a t rail. He checked t he map. It wasn't chart ed.

When he reached it , he could see that t he grass and weeds had been worn down by occasional

t raff ic of what ? He brought up t he compass overlay. Even if f orest animals had made t he t rail,

t he Dragon must use it t o save t ime. It ran from t he foot hills toward t he sea.

Somewhat reluctantly, he turned onto the trail, and began following it toward the foothills. He

was afraid t hat, if t he Dragon were wait ing ahead, he might walk into an ambush. Sound carriedbet t er down t he trail, and t he monst er might lurk in the shrubs beside t he trail and jump him

from behind. He stopped and list ened to t he extended audiosensor.... Nothing.... He moved on. If it

were one of t he Dragon's t rails, it would lead him closer t o it s den than he could get by

wandering around among t he t rees, wait ing for a call from t he mot orglider pilot.

He unslung the flamethrower nozzle, and used it to push vegetation aside, being careful to keep

his finger off t he trigger. If he should stumble and fire a blast of f lame, he might be detect ed a

long way off and give the mot orglider pilot 's LWIR a jolt t hat might cause her t o break radio

silence.

... Well, maybe not ... but he didn't t rust her, ent irely. She flew out of Seaside, t he large t own

which was the first settlement on the planet. Its "urbanized" inhabitants, who avoided theout back, were dimly regarded by t he rural pioneers...

He stopped and squint ed.... A light, ahead, where the veget ation t hinned out . He list ened t o t he

audiosensor. He t hought he could hear some faint mot ion sounds. Or, perhaps, was he was

imagining? He didn't trust the audiosensor that much, either.

He crept forward as quiet ly as he could. The crunching and crackling at his feet sounded loud t o


21/62

him. He wondered how the forest Indians could move so quietly. Their secrets had been lost in the

long decent t o his generat ion.

As he moved around a curve in the t rail, he saw, out lined in t he starlight , a crude log cabin.

Int erior light was visible through a shaded window on t he side, and was spilling carelessly

t hrough an open door, bright in his goggles.... Surely, t his couldn't be t he Dragon's home. The

creature was too smart t o live in a place so easily det ect ed. He checked the map. No st ruct ure

was chart ed here.

He moved as close as he could t o t he clearing. He doubt ed he could sneak up t o t he door wit hout

being heard. He would have to rush it and hope to surprise the occupant. If the Dragon were

inside and unaware, he might be able to burn it before it could get him.... He raised t he goggles,

and wait ed for his eyes t o adapt. He took deep breaths, preparing himself f or bat t le. His heart

pounded.

Now!... He dashed forward into the clearing and up to the open doorway. His finger all but

squeezed the trigger of the flamethrower, as his eyes frantically swept the interior of the cabin.

(" What t he hell?..." )

Lying on a cot and reading a book by the light of a solar-storage lamp, was a bewhiskered old

man.

"Freeze!" he shout ed, feeling a lit t le foolish as he did so.

The old man's eyes widened wit h fear as t hey t ook in the stranger point ing a flamet hrower at

him. He dropped the book and threw up his arms.

"D-D-Don't!" the old man stammered

With difficulty, John relaxed his trigger finger, as he considered the unlikely probability of

what he was seeing.

"Who are you?"

" Just a hermit ," t he man replied. "A harmless old hermit."

* * *

John g la red down a t t he o ld man. He had lowered the f lamet hrower nozzle, but kept hisfinger on t he t rigger. His questioning voice was loud in the night .

"You expect me t o believe t he Dragon lets you live here out of t he kindness of his heart ?"

"He don't bot her me. That 's all I know." The old man wheezed when he inhaled.

" That 's not all you know. Is it?"


22/62

" I ain't bot herin' nobody...."

John stood silent for a moment . "You're bot hering me, old man. ... I'm bot hered by you living

safe in Dragonland, when people who come here to hunt get chopped."

"I ain't seen nobody."

"You're lying! The same t rail t hat brought me here would have brought ot hers.... You know what

happened to 'em don't you?"

The old man remained silent.

"Well?!.. ."

" Well, what ?"

"You know what .... You and the Dragon. You t wo've got some game going."

"No, we ain't .... How could we?"

" I don't know but you bet t er tell me, or I'm gonna burn you and this shack good." He lift ed the

nozzle and gripped it with bot h hands.

"No! Don't. I'll talk...." The fear on the old man's face showed his acceptance of John's threat. "...

I came aft er him, last year.... I wanted t o be t he one to get him, but he jumped me while I was

sleepin'. I almost had a heart at t ack when I woke up and saw t hem t eeth o' his. I figgered I was a

goner.... But , he didn't kill me. He t ied me up and dragged me back t o his cave...."

"Go on."

The old man had t rouble t elling the t ruth f rom t his point on.

" I t aught him our t alk...."

John exploded. "You did what ?!"

The old man cringed. " What could I do? He wanted t o learn Universal. ... I guess he wanted t o

understand us."

"Understand us? It wanted to kill us! And you helped it . You gave it a weapon greater t han any

gun."

"You would have, too t o live.... And, don' t forget , I'm stuck here. He won't let me go.... I had a

wife and a farm. Now, I got nothin' he don't give me."

John lowered t he nozzle. In spite of his anger, he felt sorry fo r t he old geezer.

"If I burn the Dragon, you can leave. But, you better not tell anyone what you told me, or you'll


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passage. He halt ed and pushed up his goggles. If he had t o fire, the flame would overload them and

blind him.

While he waited f or his eyes to adapt t o t he dim light , he list ened to t he ext ended audiosensor. He

heard somet hing that sounded like water running. The old man wheezed nervously behind him....

He moved forward, again.

The cave narrowed int o a corridor and curved around to t he left . If t he Dragon showed up here,

he thought , he'd have it if he could react bef ore it rushed him.

Crack!

Under his feet , t he dust y f loor collapsed.

"Uhhh!..." He fell but not t oo far.... Just enough.

* * *

John r em a ined consc ious t hrough the pain t hat f ollowed. He was face down on an earthen

floor. His back had been hurt when t he hip pack and flamethrower t ank bore down on him. Now

t hey hung askew, but were still bound t o him by t he straps. When he raised his head, a t rickle of

salt y blood ran from his nose t o his mouth.

He lay st ill for a while, try ing to orient himself. Then, he tried t o undo t he st raps. A st ab of pain

reminded him his left wrist had broken the fall.... He managed t o free himself. Then, slowly,

painfully, he rolled over onto his back and stared upward. At t he ragged hole in the false floor,

t he hermit was st aring down at him. He wasn't smiling.

" Guess you ain't so high-and-might y, now," he said.

" Help me."

"Help you?... I did help you. You got what you wanted. Now you're on your own, mister.... Maybe

you can burn Aaksh when he comes back. Maybe not.... I ain't waitin' to find out."

With t hat, he disappeared f rom v iew. Wit h t he extended audiosensor, John could hear him

running from t he cave and into t he trees.

5.

He sat w i t h h i s back aga ins t t he side o f t he p i t , facing t oward t he cave ent rance. He had

t ried to stand, but t he pain in his back was t oo great. He pulled the f lamet hrower nozzle int o his

lap so he could get to it, fast. He listened, then turned the audiosensor off, and tried the radio.

The receiver was st ill working, but when he pushed t he red locator but t on under the cap, t he

receiver didn't cut out fo r a second, like it should have. He slapped t he XMIT swit ch, breaking

the dowel, and held it down.... No cutout.... The transmitter was broken.


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What a mess.... Trapped like an animal in a pit he couldn't get out of, and no way to call for

help.... That his transmissions probably couldn't be heard from t he cave, anyway, was no

consolat ion.

He was about t o discard his helmet , when suddenly...

" MOUNTAINVIEW FIELD, THIS IS GLIDE ONE.... DO YOU COPY?"

A pause, as t he unreceivable reply eluded him. He was out of t he line-of-sight for Commo in the

village t o say the least. He was surprised he could receive t he mot orglider. She must be

nearby.

" ROGER.... I' M RUNNING LOW ON FUEL.... HEADING YOUR WAY, NOW.... ETA IS THIRTY MIKES.

PRESENT POSITION IS SECTOR GOLF ROMEO."

She had spot ted t he Dragon.

He brought up t he map and keyed in t he position code. An out line of sector GR was superimposed.

The red circle marking his present posit ion was in one corner.

* * *

He sa t i n pa in, awa i t i ng t he Dr agon .

The pilot had made her second t ransmission t he phony engine t rouble report which told him

t he Dragon was coming his way.

It would get a surprise when it showed up if he didn't pass out , first . He list ened closely t o t he

extended audiosensor for the sound of footfalls. He doubted the Dragon would be able to sneak up

on him. The grit t y f loor of t he cave made t hat unlikely.... (" Maybe I'm falsely reassuring

myself.")

The radio began picking up st at ic some kind of pulse noise. He had never heard noise at t his

frequency before. It wasn't dist ant t hunderstorm stat ic. The receiver must have been damaged,

t oo.... His mind began t o drift into dark thoughts.

He damned himself for putting the hermit behind him.... If he had put the him in front, the old

man would have taken t he fall. Or, if t he hermit had known about t he pit, he would have funked

out , and neither of t hem would have t umbled.... He was cert ain t he hermit had withheldinformat ion he could use to get t he Dragon. The old boy probably count ed on his pal to keep

colonists away from his comfort able home in the woods. It probably gave him a big charge t o be

favored by a monst er that so terrified ot hers. John swore to himself t hat , if he got out of t his

alive, t he old man would pay dearly for his treachery.

The st atic was gett ing louder. It intruded on his t houghts of revenge. He t urned t he radio off .


26/62

He began considering what he would do with the hermit. He should take him back to the village

for int errogation.... A ret urn to realit y occurred when he considered the chances of being able to

accomplish anyt hing, now.

Then, his reverie was int errupt ed by the extended audiosensor movement out side t he cave.

(" Damn!") He had been deep into t houghts of revenge.

He heard t he vegetat ion covering t he entrance falling back int o place, followed by slow st eps

along t he floor of t he cave.... (" The Dragon's coming!")

He raised the f lamet hrower nozzle toward the hole he had made when he fell t hrough the pit-

covering. His finger t ightened on t he t rigger. He had to give t he Dragon a facefull before it saw

him aiming at it. If he used too much fuel, it might run down into the pit and burn him.... He

hoped the Dragon wouldn't fall in. That might finish bot h of t hem.

He reset t he audiosensor to NORMAL. The foot falls were growing louder.

Suddenly, t hey stopped. ( " It must have spot t ed t he hole in t he floor.... Come and see your vict im,

Dragon.")

He shook as he waited for its ugly face to appear at the hole. He tried to control his arms so he

wouldn' t spoil his aim. They seemed leaden, but shook.

"Hey, man! Don't shoot! It 's me!... I'm back."

6.

The o ld man st opped chopping at t he false floor wit h his axe. The hole was big enough, now.

"I'm comin' down." He threw down a knotted rope he had staked to the earth, and began climbing

int o t he pit. He was surprisingly nimble, for someone so old.

He moved t o John's side. "Can you stand up?"

"Not by myself. Help me up."

The old man knelt, and took hold of t he flamethrower nozzle. "Let 's get t his out of t he way."

The volunteer relaxed his grip and let t he old man have t he nozzle. He rolled over t o f avor his

right hand and put his palm on t he ground to push himself up a lit t le.

The old man suddenly stepped back. In a flash, he wrapped t he end of t he rope around the hippack

and f lamet hrower. "What' re you doing?" John asked, helpless t o prevent what he suspected.

" I'm pullin' your f angs, boy." He lift ed his face t o t he hole. "I've got it ! Pull away!"

John wat ched as his only weapon was swift ly yanked out of t he pit. He glared at t he old man, who


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"That makes two of us."

"Oh, no.... I came here because I killed my wif e, and had t o run. I was huntin' for food when he

found me, just like I said."

The Dragon growled a deep, gutt eral sound that some of t he victims must have heard before

t hey died.... (" Is it my t urn, now?" John wondered.)

A pause.... Then, the old man picked up the flamethrower nozzle.

"Say your prayers, boy.... Aaksh wants YOU t o get what you were goin' t o give HIM." He point ed

t he nozzle at John.

The Dragon growled again. The old man looked over at it for a few seconds, then down at t he

hunter.

"He want s me to t hank you for not usin' your radio to report what you saw heh, heh...." The

Dragon's t oot hy smile seemed more like a grimace. It stepped back from t he edge of t he pit, well

behind the old man.

As their shared jest waned, the wife-killing hermit pulled the trigger of the flamethrower

nozzle.

Whump!

The old man was enveloped in brilliant flame and b lack smoke. He screamed ... and screamed. And

collapsed into a pyre of his own making.

Burning fuel spread outward, and some of it flowed down t he far wall of t he pit. John, helpless t omove away, watched it burn it self out , short of him.

"Sorry, old man.... I forgot t o t ell you that t ank was made to rupt ure and ignit e if anyone else

t ried t o use it. Guess you didn't push t hat lit t le ole butt on in the bot t om of t he grip, first ."

Then, he passed out .

* * *

" Hey ! . . . Wake up , m an ! "

John opened his eyes, and focused on t he two shapes standing at t he edge of t he pit. They were

men from t he village, carrying old shot guns.

"Cephas ... Jude?"

" Right y-o," replied Cephas.


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"How did you guys get here?"

" The Int erMedic helo.... It 's in a clearing, out t here," added Jude.

"How did you know where to f ind me?"

"Suzie saw you and some guy go in the cave. Then, the guy came running out . When he came back

wit h t he Dragon, she figured you were in t rouble, so she t ook a chance and called us on

Emergency One. The Chairman got t he helo, quick."

"'Suzie'?"

" The mot orglider pilot ."

"Oh..." John hadn' t known her name.

"What happened here? Who's t his?" Jude asked, point ing to t he smoking remains of t he hermit.

"The Dragon's man.... Watch out. the Dragon's up there somewhere. It was with this guy when the

flamethrower tank exploded."

"There's nobody here, now 'cept old Smokey, there.... Don't worry. The motorglider's circling

t ight. Sun's up. She'll see the Dragon if it comes near t he cave.... You t hink it go t burned?"

" I don't know. It moved back before t he guy pulled the t rigger. It must have got t en away."

" Hell, then, it 's prob ably st ill running," said Cephas.

"No.... It 's probably hiding and watching.... But t hat' s okay. I know how t o f ind it, now."

" Yeah?... How?"

The volunt eer smiled, despit e his pains.

" Just listen.... It doesn't maintain radio silence."

7.

L a t e r , a s h e l a y ab e d , r e c o v e r i n g f r o m h i s i n j u r i e s , John Anishinaabe reflect ed on

the matter of the Dragon, who was still at large.

He thought about his ancestors on Old Earth.... About how t hey resented the colonists from across

t he great salt sea. How t hey fought and killed t o keep them out of t he sacred homeland.... Those

colonists saw his ancest ors much like he saw t he Dragon: as somet hing dangerous st anding in the

way of settlement. Something to be confined or exterminated.

Maybe, the villagers could come to some kind of agreement with Aaksh.... After all, he was an


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31/62

SEVENTH SEAL

by Ben Stivers and Joy Campbell

N e a r l y i n v i s i b l e , t he flat black hull of t he giant Hist ory Ship Sylph slipped t hrough t he

infinit e ocean of inky space in which she swam. Thousands of visual capt ures recorded t he

massive gas giants of t he solar system. Two of t hem had detectable rings, and numerous

satellites paid homage to them all, silent little rocks, dead in the night.

The largest of t he gas giants, the t hird, could have found it s way t o being a brown dwarf if it had

t he gumpt ion to gat her a mere twent y-five t imes more mass than it had. It would have made t he

system much more int eresting. St ill, it was an oasis in t he middle of nowhere, stuck on t he

out side arm of t he spiral galaxy t hat held propert ies of t he Blasian St ar Empire.

To Emperor Vacat oar, t hat one minute detail meant t hat t he solar system was important .

Someday, life here would rise to the stars, given the proper direction.

The Sylph's hyperspace engines dropped the ship and crew into t he sub-light world of t he real,

and the heavy gravity engines decelerat ed Sylph unt il she reached the red planet . As they passed

t he t iny spatial body, recorders monit ored the planet. Alt hough t he planet of fered int erest ing

geological configurations, t here was no life. That left just one more place to stop. The engines

decelerat ed for an addit ional thirty units, t hen shut down completely. The ship's docking engines

maneuvered Sylph into asynchronous orbit above the third planet .


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The lit t le blue and white sphere would have been breat ht akingly beaut iful if t he Sylph, and t he

precious passengers she housed, had not seen a t housand places like it bef ore. St ill, ant icipat ion

abounded. Much had been done to prepare, but t here was much more to do.

Sylph was here to seed the t hird planet wit h art ifact s art ifacts t hat would hint t o t he

humanoid life f orms t hat evolved on t he surface t hat life was in abundance in t he universe. The

Empire would leave articles that would point t he populace back to t he st ars. Assuming they

were wise enough to follow the metaphor, once evolved, they would take their place among the

great advanced civilizations of t he Empire, and fulf ill their destiny.

The Emperor had sent t he Histo ry ships fo rt h for just t his purpose. It was a mission t hat was

holy to t hem all when it had started centuries before. The job of t he history ships was t o invent

hist ory for t he targeted planet. The populace must be convinced that t heir civilizat ion was not

an evolut ionary "accident ." Their curiosity would be ent iced t o come to t he stars, or raise t he

level of fear so high that t he planet' s populace would flee from t heir planet in search of

salvation.

It was a glorious mission. Now, however, things were going a litt le on the bumpy side,

especially for John.

* * *

" J o h n ! " t he UnderSeer of t he Corporat e Writ ing Team exclaimed. John's at t ent ion had

wandered off as the UnderSeer ranted. The tone and frustrat ion of his edito r's voice recapt ured

him and dragged his mind kicking and screaming back int o the present . "Are you paying any

att ention t o what I'm saying?"

"Yes, UnderSeer," John replied as he t ried t o remember what t he Chief' s last sentence had been.

"I'm listening to you."

"For goodness sake. Can't you see why I'm angry? Do you understand what kind of t rouble we

are in here?" t he UnderSeer asked. His voice gained volume wit h each word.

John cringed inside. He knew exact ly why t he UnderSeer was mad and he understood t he gravit y

of t he situat ion. Unfort unat ely, he had no clue as t o how he could provide a solut ion in t ime to

save them from cert ain disast er. St ill, t here was no way he would admit it .

"Yes, UnderSeer. I'm lett ing down t he t eam." His answer sounded lame.

The Chief' s face looked as if it would explode wit h exasperat ion. His desperat ion was so thick in

t he room John could almost t ouch it .

" Lett ing t hem down? It 's more t han t hat! You are t he leader of t hat t eam! This is your

t eam's t arget planet."

"I know that."


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"The fossil teams have complet ed all t heir work and everyone else has completed t heir work

except for the Compendium. Without you, there will be no book! It is t he crit ical Component of

t he ent ire project . Our computers have projected t hat it will play a bigger role on t his planet

t han any other art ifact we have plant ed. Unless you snap out of t his, we are doomed for f ailure!"

John sighed. " I know UnderSeer. I know. I'm having trouble firming up t he idea."

The UnderSeer gazed at John. His t emper cooled slightly. " John, t he team has st ruggled toget her

for years. You guys have so carefully laid out t he scenes, t he plot, t he dialogue, the t hemes.

Now you are ready for t he grand finale. All of us have worked too hard to let it f all t hrough."

" I' ll do the best I can."

"That 's not good enough. You've got t o snap out of t his writer's block, John. If you don't

come t hrough before t he deadline, t he OverSeer will have our head and t he Emperor w ill have

his!"

"I know, UnderSeer."

The UnderSeer cont inued. "You know what a pet project t his is of t he Emperor's. It is why we

are here. It is why we are being paid. We need t hat st ory!"

John's felt as though ast eroids were whizzing in untrained orbit inside his st omach. He felt ill.

" Nothing like a lit t le pressure t o lighten up the load, UnderSeer," he grumbled. It was not t he

Chief' s fault . He had a right t o be upset. Everyone was wait ing. Thanks t o John, t he

Compendium was st ill incomplet e, and more t han their jobs were at stake.

" John, let me put it t his way. If you do not f inish this last chapt er on t ime, I am going t o give itto someone else."

"Don't do that," John pleaded.

" I have t o. I have no other choice. I cannot risk losing the project t o someone else. If I

give it t o another writ er though, it means they will get t he full bonus and the advance on the

next project . It also means you will be gett ing off t he ship to an 'Emperor-only-knows'

assignment in some backwat er planetary system."

Fear welled up inside John and frolicked wit h his nervousness. The UnderSeer was reading him

t he Riot Act . The bad thing was the t hreat of which he spoke was very real. It was no bluff .

" It 's not f air! I've led this thing the entire way! Some of t hese people only did one

story and some of t hem only did a few pages."

"Everyone has a job to do, John. They get paid accordingly."

John t ook a deep breat h, then exploded in a flurry of words. " But I did the ent ire beginning

story and came up with the idea about t he kid! Not only t hat, I had several ot her minor chapt ers


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myself t o do, plus I helped everyone else."

The UnderSeer's blue eyes met John's green ones, his voice level. Both of t hem could see t he

fat igue in the ot her.

" That 's t rue. I admit it . But , what have you done for me lat ely, John?"

John stared at his long t ime associat e in disbelief. This was what it all came down t o.

" I need the damned story so we can finish the book," t he UnderSeer said grimly, " and I need it

yesterday."

There was no way out o f it . John nodded and held up his hands. "Okay, okay, fine. I' ll

have something ready in draft form by t omorrow night." He st ood up from t he plasteel chair the

UnderSeer reserved for t hose in t rouble and picked up his notes.

" I'm count ing on you, John. We all are."

John spun briskly on his heel and left t he off ice. The doors whisked shut behind him and he

stopped and leaned against t he cool met al wall t o catch his breath. The air of t he ship's

circulat ors smelt stale t o him, as if t he very air it self t hreat ened t o abandon him if he did not

come through wit h t he product by t he deadline.

He had absolutely no idea how to writ e the st ory or even how it should end. He was in a

serious jam and he knew it ; unfort unately, so did everyone else.

* * *

A n h o u r l a t e r , John found himself in Sylph's Writer' s Lounge. Out of desperation, he hoped

t o discuss his problems with some of his friends. It was always against his bet t er judgment t o

do that. He seldom shared a story idea with people before he had it down on paper. That was

part of t he thrill. St ill, he needed some feedback to jar his brain and get t he creat ive engine in

gear.

The room was crowded t his aft ernoon. The air smelled clearer here for some reason. Perhaps

being around ot hers t hat he felt could underst and made him f eel bett er. That feeling of

closeness, however, had an ext remely short shelf life.

He sat down at a small cafe sty le table. The wait ress immediately set a st eaming cup of

Yorcat lian Brew in front of him. Maclead Ramon sat down across from him.

"How it going, John?" he asked.

John picked up the whit e cup by t he handle and sipped at t he Brew. It went down hot and smooth,

t hen exploded in t ingles as it hit his stomach. Every nerver fiber seemed rejuvenat ed at t hat

instant.


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"Not t oo good. I've got t o have the st ory ready short ly and I haven't even start ed."

"Why not?" Maclead asked.

" I haven't figured out what t o write about yet . I have some ideas t hough."

" Care to share?"

John allowed t he first idea to pass from his mout h and bound of f his friend, Maclead Ramon.

Maclead was his best friend aft er all. Surely he would give him some encouragement.

Maclead looked at him as it he'd lost his mind. " It won't work," he said. His voice was

flat and crit ical.

John's mout h hung slight ly open. "Why?"

"Unbelievable," Maclead said, shaking his head. " The st ory has t o be somet hing that is

slightly believable, but still quite f ant ast ic."

The words burned, but John knew they were t rue. St ill, he had not come up with anyt hing.

Maclead consoled him, but did lit t le to help him get a st ory st arted. In the end, he was one idea

less on inventory and two hours less on t ime. It seemed hopeless.

Maclead left and wished him well.

Other writ ers t hat some called "The Twelve" caught his eye. They sat at a long table and

John sat down with them, hoping one last time to get his creative juices flowing by sharing with

his peers.

He t ried anot her idea on t he group. Most of people he had edited for somet ime during t he work on

t he Compendium. They were t ougher on him than he ever remembered being to t hem. He had

been tough on t hem as well, but t hey seemed t o t ake pleasure in crit icizing everyt hing he

brought t o t he surface as a possible st oryline.

" It doesn't add anyt hing t o t he overall story," t hey reasoned.

He could hear his own words echoing from t he mouths of each of t hem. John shoved his chair

back in disgust and prepared to leave.

" John," one of t hem said. "The Compendium is ready. All t hat we need now is t he last

story one last, amazing story t o sum it all up. You can do it . Just relax and stick t o t he basicpremise. Go back t o our mission. The Compendium has to be a story t hat t eaches t he inhabit ants

t hat great er things are out here than they have ever imagined. It must t each the 'evolving' and

wonder of int elligent creat ures. Your chapter must t each them t o reach for the heavens." The

ot hers nodded and added their agreement.

"Thanks," John replied, then wandered out of the lounge and into the body of the ship.


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* * *

The en t i r e i dea for the Compendium grew out of a proposal that he had submitted to the

OverSeer. The Emperor had approved t he idea almost immediately. Now it was t ime to deliver,

but t he ending refused to come. Dejected, John went t o his room.

When the mission had first start ed, John had writ t en t he first st ory in t he collect ion and, as

agreed by all of t hem in advance, it was writ t en under a pen name. That had been t he first

chapter of The Compendium and it had been easy at least John thought so. The idea flowed

t hrough his head, down his arms and ont o t he paper. Aft er t hat, everyone else had wrapped their

st ories around his framework.

"It's my framework, and I can't get a stupid story idea to hang on it."

* * *

Fo r hou r s , one i dea af t e r ano t he r cam e , but he reject ed each in t urn. It had to be

somet hing in context t o t he rest of t he book. The story had so many requirement s.

The intercom chimed soft ly. It was t he UnderSeer. John flipped the receiver swit ch. He knew

it was a stat us check and a litt le more pressure for t he cooker.

"Yes?"

"John, t he st ory has to be done by t he end of t he shift , tomorrow. We have to jump out of t his

system in less t han t hree days! We can't be lat e leaving. We have another assignment in t he bagand ready if we finish this one on t ime."

" I know, UnderSeer, I know. I' ll have it ready somehow."

"Do you have any of it done?" t he Chief's voice said.

" No sir, not a line," John replied honestly.

The UnderSeer sighed. " John "

John int errupt ed him. " I'll have it . I promise. If I can just get t he first couple words

down, I'm sure I can finish it on t ime."

" It has t o be really scary, John. Much scarier than t he other stuf f we have done. It needs t o

wrap everyt hing up. It must close out all t he business. It must yell, 'The End!' No sequel.

They must be scared right of f t heir planet. Tell them t hat The End is coming! If t hey don't get

off planet t o the stars, t hey'll be dead. That 's what we're looking for."

The UnderSeer made it sound so easy.


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" Okay, UnderSeer, okay. Honest , I' ll have it ready." Somehow, his mind appended. Luckily, his

voice did nothing to ut t er it .

"When?"

"How about t he day aft er tomorrow? We could rush it t hrough product ion and st ill make it on

time."

"No, you have to meet t he deadline. Bring me t he manuscript when you get it done."

"Will do," John replied. He t ouched the comm shut and plopped down in his chair.

He ran his fingers t hrough his long, black hair and closed his eyes as dismay washed over him in

a wave.

He needed a story about t he end of t his world. It needed to be fantast ic, and super scary. Yet , it

needed t o have a t ouch of believability t hat would scare an ent ire populat ion out int o space. It

had to hang together with the rest of the books in The Compendium, yet tie each of them up into a

nice, neat package.

He contemplated the end of the world. Where should he begin?

At t hat moment , Talya entered t he room. She was a nice person and John liked her in a

brot herly sort of way. Maybe she could help him find a start. She had been his muse before

when he was working on t he plot for t he kid's assassinat ion.

" Hello, John," she said, smiling.

" Hi, Talya. I am glad t o see you. I'm in a real jam."

" I heard," she said, "I've come to see if I can off er you some help." She st epped to his

food unit and called up two cups of Brew.

John's face lit up. He felt bet t er already. " Great . I was t hinking t hat I would finish t he

end of t he world st ory wit h somet hing really scary. You know, like a massive comet hit t ing the

earth and killing everyone."

Talya frowned and shook her head. She picked up t he two cups of Brew and sat down next t o John.

"No way. We've spent t oo much time seeding all those bones and that was t he theory we wanted

t hem t o reach about t hat stuf f. You need something diff erent. We can't have an ast eroid droppingout of space every couple of millennia t o destroy everyt hing."

"Mmm, good point . Okay, how about t he flood t hing?"

Talya frowned. "Not f resh enough. That 's been done before t oo, unless you have some new twist

on t he st oryline that no one has ever seen before."


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John admit t ed that no new tw ist was present in his head. " Well," Talya off ered, "why don't you

put down some st uff about advanced civilizations coming t o destroy t he world?"

John made a sour face wit hout replying. He'd t hought about t hat , but everyone knew t hat

advanced civilizat ions had long ago stopped dest roying worlds. It cost t oo much.

Talya shrugged.

" Well, why not some real hellfire and brimstone t hing?" Talya asked. " Make t hem t hink t hat

things are going to get so damned bad t hat if t hey don't do somet hing to escape, they might get

caught up in the middle of it."

John perked up. "Okay, we might be on t o somet hing here. But we need conflict." Images

flashed through his head of planet ary scale erupt ions and volcanoes, t he acrid smell of sulfur

and t he metallic tast e of burning lava.

Talya looked down at t he floor. "Okay, conflict. How about some kind of monster?"

John shook his head. "No, we don't know what t hey might t hink up during their evolut ion. It

might be scarier than any implementation we might dream."

" Well, t hen pick somet hing a lit t le more general."

"Like?"

"Like t he bat t le between good and evil. That 's always good for a scary story . Make t he t wo

concept s immort al perhaps."

" Cool, except t his t ime evil will win," John said. Excit ement began to course through his veins.

" Not very inspiring considering the rest of The Compendium, John."

"Hmmm," he murmured, "where do I begin?"

Talya laughed. "Certainly not at t he Beginning. You've got t o keep it under t he word count so

that we can make the cost ceiling for the project, you know."

Af t er few moment s, he placed his hands on t he keyboard, and prepared to t ype. How he could

scare the living daylight s out of people? What would be best?

He looked at Talya. "Somet hing in third person?"

It was Cheryl's t urn to make a sour face. "Too impersonal, but you will we need a lot of

descript ion. Draw t hem into t he st ory. Tell it in first person."

John shook his head, then focused inward as the story burst t hrough the flood gates and began to

t ake form. His mind raced. By t he t ime he looked up from t hought, Talya had left .


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* * *

John p laced h is hand on the keyboard and typed the first words, "The R."

At t hat point , John released himself t o his muse. Through the night he wrote unt il he had

writ t en all but t he last word. As he entered it int o t he manuscript, he realized it said it all. It

said, "The End," but in a different sort of way.

Now if he could convince t he UnderSeer, he would st ill be on top, a major project under his belt

for t he History Fleet .

He looked at his wat ch. He had writ t en all night and partially int o t he next day and it f elt great !

It was t ime to get t he Chief' s react ion.

* * *

John wa lked dow n t he ha ll and dropped t he pages ont o t he Chief' s desk, a smug smile on his

face. He waited as the UnderSeer read t he manuscript .

Every so oft en, the UnderSeer would murmur bit s of t he t ext.

" . . . and he opened the bot t omless pit . . ."

John leaned back in his chair and waited.

" . . . and when He broke the sevent h seal, silence covered the sky."

John fidget ed wit h excitement. This story was definitely his best piece of work ever. The

met aphor was perfect , t he descript ions just as t hey should be.

The UnderSeer continued t hrough every word unt il he reached t he end. It t ook him nearly an

hour. He closed the book and rubbed his eyes, t hen his face.

" Well, John," he began, "normally, I wouldn't accept t his. It 's just t oo fant ast ic and

ridiculous t o be true. No one will be scared."

"Oh?" John's conf idence was rock solid.

The UnderSeer shook his head. " It 's simply not believable."

John gazed back, unshaken. He had t ied the ent ire Compendium up into one neat package. This

was the best story ever written.

" Trust me," he said, "They' ll love it . They will be off -planet wit hin t hree t housand years."

John slipped out of his chair and headed across the of fice. He knew t hat behind him the


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UnderSeer smiled.

He had done a great job, and his evaluat ion of t he market was perfect . Whet her or not t he

UnderSeer would ever admit it , was one thing, but The UnderSeer knew he had a gem on his

hands, and so did John.

It was the Chief' s job to keep the writ ers aboard ship in line and t heir best work coming. As he

reached t he door, John grinned as he heard t he UnderSeer open t he manuscript again for a second

read.

He was hooked.

* * *

"Revelat ion t o John (The Apocalypse)"

John whist led as he headed of f t o bed. Yes, that last chapt er was going t o scare the living

daylight s out of t he readers. They would believe and remember it. They would stay up night s

worrying about it unt il they left for t he st ars.

Story copyright 1995-1996 Ben Stivers and Joy Campbell.


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ENCLOSED POSSIBILITIES

by Wayne Deeker

1.

" H i Don . Yeah , t hey j us t a r r i ved . I have t hem he r e . " David Conway shift ed t he

phone to his left hand. St roking his f lecked beard, he pondered t he desk's surface layer of

drawings and photographs. " I'm f lummoxed by t hem too. These are the weirdest f ossils I've

ever seen. I can't imagine any nat ural process creating t hese impressions. They're so perfect ly

round, and f lat on t he bott om; t hey could've almost been made by rows of paint t ins pushed into

the mud."

Conway held one of the photographs, a black and white 8 x 10 depicting an outdoor location,

nearer his face. He cont inued, " It 's spooky. But t he largest animals back then were about a foot

long; not hing could make t racks t his size. And what animals have feet like paint t ins?"

He glanced around his cramped office: the clock on his cluttered bookshelf; through the dusty

blinds; into t he court yard. "We should go on the hypothesis that it 's a hoax. See if you can find

evidence of carving marks, recent oxidation, stuff like t hat, and do kay-ay dat ing and

paleomagnetic analyses. If those check out , at least we' ll know we have a genuine fossil. Af t er

t hat, who knows? We'll see what t urns up. Keep in t ouch. Bye."


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Conway st ared out his window, tapping his pen against his fo rehead, elbow on desk. Finally, he

slid t he photographs and drawings back int o t heir envelope, t urning his att ent ion to t he

morning's mail.

Discarding t he first few let t ers, he opened a large yellow envelope marked "manuscript ."

Reclining in his chair, feet up, Conway r ead.

* * *

" N o n se n se ! " h e r e m ar k e d t o o f f i c e , s c r i b b l in g . Two hoaxes in one day? Unbelievable!

He cont inued skimming t he text, arriving at t he appended drawings and diagrams. He whistled.

But wait ; where've I seen these st ructures before?

Unlocking the met al cabinet , its prot esting door squeaked open. He gathered books and small

wooden boxes from t he clutt er, cleared off a bencht op along one wall, clicked on the circular

magnifier's f lorescent light .

Through the lens, he compared a fossil specimen t o faded notes and sketches, the paper yellowed.

Disk-shaped, about five cent imet ers wide, t he fossil's inner edge consisted of rows of jagged,

t oothy st ruct ures.

Back t hen, t hey seemed so odd. Nobody knew what t hey were, or their funct ion. We guessed they

might 've been part o f some undiscovered organism. Now, here they are, in t his guy' s paper,

exactly like this, but drawn as only part of a whole animal. Shit ! It looks so right . Who would

go to the trouble of hoaxing such a creature look at those tentacles and fin-things! yet

include t his unpublished fossil as its mout h part ?

"No-one," he said t o his empt y of fice, " could have made this up. What 's going on, Mr. Penny?"

2.

" H e l l o ? "

" Hi. This is David Conway of t he Pacific Journal of Palaeobiology. I'm calling about t he

manuscript you sent us recent ly." He doodled on t he pad near the phone. "The t ext and drawings

of your paper are surprising, t o say t he least . I'm very interest ed to know where the specimen

came from. Haven't seen anyt hing like it in 20 years. Your drawings are so complete, so

det ailed and lifelike; I' ve never seen such exquisite sof t -t issue preservation. It 's incredible."

Noel Penny did not respond. Conway cont inued, " I have meticulously st udied every specimen

you interpret here as a mouthpart ; I found most of t hem, and I have four of t he six specimens in

my own lab. I was not aware of any new specimens, nor of any proposed paleontological

expedit ions." Colouring a box he had drawn on the pad, he asked, "Where did your specimen

come from?"

" All of t hat information was in t he paper. Where it was found, when, by whom, the whole lot ."


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"Yes, let' s discuss that . You say t hat "

"Everyt hing you need to know is t here. I don't appreciat e being called at home and interrogated."

Conway sighed. "Okay, would you prefer t o t alk now, or do we thrash t his out in the academic

journals and newspapers?"

Conway almost heard t he ot her man thinking.

"The reason I chose t o call was that your paper cont ains some chillingly det ailed drawings and

anat omical descript ions, going far beyond anyt hing done on this species. But you make several

statements that don't add up, such as where you

Documents

Planet Magazine No. 8