The Cross And The Cosmos: Inaugural Issue

October 1, 2009

Issue # 1

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Introduction Welcome to the first ever issue of the Cross and the Cosmos! The newest e-Zine to impact the market of Christian Speculative Fiction. We are excited to be able to bring this to you. More than excited: ecstatic! Think of it, a brand new place for all the readers of CSF out there to go and indulge in their favorite past time. We hope that you are as blessed reading it as we were putting it together. This issue is packed with sheer awesomeness. Don't believe me? Then read on and hear a tale of a wounded combat veteran, returning home in defeat, as he learns one of the greatest secrets of heroism. Exit the bunker with a young woman who uncovers a plot to destroy everything that remained of human kind. Rediscover the basics of the writing craft with John Turney. We close out with the hair raising tale of a grizzled pilot trying to save the lives of innocents, not to mention his own. While I have your attention, if you like what you read here and would like to see more of it, you can help in two important ways. First and foremost, we must get our name out there, so we need you to tell everyone you can about us, direct them to our website, and resend this PDF to others. This is, in effect, free advertising for us, but we need it. The second thing we need is stories. Lots of them. The more stories we get stockpiled, the better. Now, go forth and enjoy the fantastic fiction within! In His Service, Glyn Shull Co-Founder of TC2

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

The Bravest Fell by G.L. Francis

The people drew around the central well to hear news the messenger brought from the war, of the final battle, of what befell the men who rode out but a fortnight ago, led by their king to battle the foe. Exhaustion and sweat lined the runner's face. "Our army fell to defeat," he said. "Many fell by the sword, some died by the mace. Scores fell under arrows," and his husky voice broke. "So many are dead. "Before the surrender, it was a slaughter. For peace, our king promised the enemy king the hand of our princess, his only daughter, in wedlock by the end of this spring." Citizens lined the old city's walls, the main street, and windows of the halls. The rumble of hooves they waited to hear, waited as tower guards strained to see the measured approach of the king's company. The first thing they witnessed, drawing near, was massive warwagons piled high with the dead — through the crowd ran a shattering cry of dread. The great war-horses no longer trotted. With blood and dust, their coats were clotted. Into the grieving city's din, they staggered, pulling the heavy drays laden with bodies of fallen men. From balconies, from alleyways came the keening of mothers and sisters and wives, the weeping of children who didn't know why their fathers or brothers wouldn't reply. Everyone stilled as, behind the wagons, their defeated king led the few warriors who survived. Then, turning as one, the people followed in somber procession to sacred ground hallowed for the final repose of the dead. ***** The moon had set; the hour was late. The city lay deep in troubled slumber when a straggler of the army's number passed through the city's unguarded gates on the captured The Bravest Fell

Glynda Francis

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

horse of a friend or foe. They paused by the well bathed in flickering light of a torch when soft by their side, from out of the night's dark shade within shade, there appeared a young aide who drew water then began to massage the weary horse. His earnest attention seemed to assuage some measure, at least, of the animal's pain and fatigue from the conflict's deadly course. "You were so courageous," the boy softly said as he worked around to the horse's head. Slouched in the saddle, Chaylan gazed down. So familiar, he thought as he saw the child regard him with dark eyes, warm and mild. The boy's face seemed illumed by an inner light and the curls on his head gleamed black in the night. "You fought very bravely," again spoke the child. Weary, the man shook his head. "The bravest fell," he wretchedly said. "You don’t know what you say." "I saw the battle," the boy insisted. "I was there — I saw how you resisted as, wave upon wave, in battalions they came." "The bravest fell," once more said the man. "You lie or you're insane. I had no attendant and no child came on that blood-flooded field where our king had to yield." "I was there," persisted the uncanny child. "When your older friend died, you roared as though wild. With the enemy's blood, your sword became slick. Fighters stopped, watching ferocity rendered like they'd never seen — even soldiers grew sick. "Ah, now you brood! But at the surrender, when your king could stomach no more of the slaughter and chose to give his treasured daughter to honor his vow to the enemy king, both spoke in praise of when you were caught in the worst of the combat, how bravely you fought. "The young king saluted your king — yes, it's true — that he could command the willing allegiance of men like you who made war so intense. And thus he honored you." "The bravest fell," the warrior repeated.

The Bravest Fell

Glynda Francis

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Said the child, "You speak as if you were cheated from death. Be a man, act alive. It's no shame to survive. Would you draw to your heart a sword or a shiv? Don’t you know it takes as much courage to live? "Look — down yonder street runs the blood of your friend in his daughter's veins; and she's grieving the end of his life. She's just known her father's doting affection; but now she's alone, without his protection. Go care for her, love her, take her as your wife. To honor your friend, give his daughter your life." Chaylan shook his head sadly. "She's fair and pure; but she may refuse me. How can you be sure that I could instill a love that endures?" With a wide-eyed expression of innocent trust, the child tilted his head and quietly said, "The graveyard is full for the foe's cause was just. Were it not for the promise your king broke, this day would rejoice the wedding of two God meant to be joined for the good of your lands. And I know one more thing to be true: your ruler bears so much blood on his hands for with every sword blow you brought death to a foe. You fought for a woman you don't even know. Won't you fight now for one that you do?" The boy melted to shadow and vanished from sight, leaving Chaylan alone in the depth of the night. He peered around wildly, surprised and afraid. He slid from the horse and walked to the border where light of the torch ended in shade. No motion in darkness, no sound of small feet hinted of someone in stealthy retreat. He returned to the horse and, grasping the reins, uneasily led it away from the well. He stabled the beast then walked down the lane to the old city's gate without sentinel. He went to his knees. Lord, why was it so wrong? For the failing of one, why should so many fall? No answer came down from the star-speckled sky; no beam shone down its celestial light. Only one faint voice from high on the wall drifted heavenward in prayer or song; and he wept for the lonely prophet's call. "Arise, cry out in the night." ***** The Bravest Fell

Glynda Francis

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Through the frosty dark, Chaylan wandered the streets of the old city grieving the dead, the defeat. And the breaking of the morning light was welcome respite for the sleepless man daunted, exhausted, and haunted by exertions of war in the days before and the odd events in the chilly night. He felt compelled to return to the well where, as if in a dream, he worked 'til he'd drawn enough water to bathe the dried wounds of war, the dirt, and the gore. With a grimace of pain, he stripped to the waist. His muscles had seemed little match for the blades of halberds and spathas and swords he'd faced. He thought of the slain, of the terrors they braved. His wounds bled afresh and his senses were reeling. He'd given so much — all but his life — then a soft touch startled him and he turned his head. His vision was hazed by bitter tears shed through the night; but with effort, he gazed at a young woman with warm brown eyes and wrapped in a cloak bearing the shield of his fallen friend but with distaff marks on the sable field. Mairrha sounded subdued as she meekly spoke. "I heard, Chaylan, you defended my sire in the turning of battle, in dreadful mire." He leaned on the well and said, "I was there. We fought back to back and we heard the foe yell No quarter at every wave of attack." He paused, squinting against the slow burn in his eyes, then he added "The bravest fell." "Oh, Chaylan, not so," the young woman said. "Courage is not in the realm of the dead. But tell me, since you fought at his side, did my sire speak of me before he died?" His expression was bleak as Chaylan said, "No. There was too much confusion, too many woes. I mostly heard battle raging around me. T'was God's miracle that your father found me; but the archers were good and he'd lost his shield early in combat somewhere in the field or maybe the woods — I truly don't know." "He surely said something — he told me he would, if he failed to return, send a message or word. Can't you recall anything you might've heard?" There was something illusive about where she stood. His eyes lingered on her dark,

The Bravest Fell

Glynda Francis

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

silken hair that seemed to ignite with russet and gold in the waxing light. The gelid air shone with their mingling breaths as he struggled, recalling her father's death. "Just for a moment, I did hear him pray; then I thought he said Terlan, the name of his stallion, killed as he rode charging into the fray." He saw Mairrha pale so he added, "I bought you the cross and medallion he wove from your hair; they hung near his heart. T'is a token of love he wished you to have should God judge it time for him to depart." Bowing her head, the young woman said, "My brother was Terlan — before I was born, he drowned in this well. Though my sire was forlorn, he prayed God would send him another son. I think perhaps, Chaylan, you are the one; not by birth, but, you see, my father told me he chose for my welfare a husband, a master, if in the battle he met with disaster." For a moment, he struggled to comprehend then with thinning breath he heard himself say, "Your sire was the bravest that fell on that day." The man stared at Mairrha — he felt time suspend for it seemed he heard her gentle voice blend with the nocturnal voice of the strange, young boy. "Would you rather your bones had been crushed by a mace? Don't you know it takes as much courage to face the rigors of life, the hardship and strife? But, Chaylan, remember there's also much joy. "Look — down yonder street is the hold of my sire. When you've washed, go there. There's food on the fire, a place you can rest, warm drink that will calm, and I'll dress your wounds with healing balm." White-knuckled, he grasped the well buckets rim for its oaken support as his vision dimmed. Through purling wafts of fog, he peered into its water until his head cleared. "Mairrha," he said in a voice hoarse and low, "last night, a child foretold we would wed; but, for failing your sire, I've much to atone..." He looked up and found he was alone. ***** The blossoming of that uncommon spring graced the nuptials of a princess and king.

The Bravest Fell

Glynda Francis

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

After a time of grieving the dead, Chaylan and Mairrha also were wed. Before long, their holding was one of new joy when the warrior's wife gave birth to a boy. Years came and went; and each moment he spent with his son and his wife restored joy to his life. Returning home late from hunting one night, the man and his son stopped by the well bathed in the torches' warm amber light. The night was cool and Chaylan quelled a shiver — or was it more than the chill? He glanced at the thongs of prey they had caught as something inside stirred deeper than thought. His son dismounted, talking still of the day's events, of their mighty skill, of the birds they felled, and the boar they saw run Then — "You were so courageous," said the man's son. Chaylan gazed down to see his child regard him with dark eyes warm and mild. His face seemed illumed by an inner light and the curls on his head gleamed black in the night. He watched the boy draw enough water to slake their own and their weary horses thirst as a tremor of memory, the roll of a quake, a groundswell remembrance suddenly burst recalling the scene of another child met after a battle, bloody and wild. And while Chaylan watched in the flickering flame, he wondered from whence the youth came. Who were you, boy, on that night of intrigue? Child of the future, child of the past? Angel or phantom or fantasy fed by blood and fatigue? For whomever You sent, Lord, I thank you at last. "What's wrong, papa?" inquired his son, handing up a full ladle he'd drawn from the well. Accepting the water, the man gently smiled. "Son, the bravest fell ...in love."

The Bravest Fell

Glynda Francis

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

G.L. Francis is a Christian writer and artist married 25 plus years to her best friend, G.J. She has worked in machining, electronics, and animal health care. Regardless of jobs, she believes serving God and exalting Him happens in the trenches of daily life. A long-time SFF fan, she thinks the genre provides an excellent vehicle for exploring God's truth and the application of His truth in worlds where the demarcation between good and evil often has greater clarity than in our world. "I like adventure. In story or in daily life, adventures with God are the best — they're epic. No matter how great the obstacles, God is greater. His victory and glory shine."

The Bravest Fell

Glynda Francis

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

The Death of Man By Cris Jesse

“It’s been three weeks since the doors opened. Without the lights on the panel we have no way of knowing whether anyone else is alive!” Rebekah tried holding back a tear as she finished speaking. Noblen responded to Rebekah with a sigh. His brown eyes were soft as they looked into hers. “We’ve been through this already. As good as your concern for people is, it won’t change things. The wires were buried deep; the system would have survived the war. If there are no lights, then I’m sorry but the rest of the world has perished. Rebekah, you shouldn’t be spending so much time down here hoping for another light to come on.” Rebekah looked to the map on the panel. The light near Mt. Rainier, the one representing their bunker, was still the only green one. It was true that she had been spending a lot of time in the control room, staring at the map panel. And during that time none of the other lights had even flickered. Gazing around the dimly lit room, Rebekah tried to imagine being stuck in the bunker with no food. The metallic walls, reinforced by nine feet of concrete, would be too much to even think of breaking through. And not even a direct hit from a warhead could breach the doors. There’d be no escape. Not that escaping would have been a good idea anyway. As she continued to look around, she realized that the bunkers were not filled with much to distract a desperately hungry person. Such a hunger would surely make a person feel like the small rooms were closing in on them. If the other bunkers ran out of food, then the people would have likely gone mad before dying of starvation. Thinking of people dying that way was terrible. And the idea that everyone else in the world was dead, that was a notion too awful for Rebekah to accept. “If their numbers are small then they’ll still have a week until their rations run out.” Stomplad smashed his large fist down on the table, “Greedy fools, every one of them!” His face was twisted up like an angry bulldog. “Times were hard during the war, and yet we still made sure there was food enough to live on. They knew they weren’t to enter the bunkers until the final call was given. None of them listened when we warned them to leave the rations alone. There was only supposed to be enough food to survive the fallout after the war.” Noblen nodded, “The two bunkers in Eastern Washington were emptied before their doors had even closed. Had we not guarded this shelter with our lives they surely would have taken from it as well. It’s only because of a full stock and smaller numbers that we survived all those years. We made it out just in time. Most of the others likely perished long ago.” Rebekah tried to picture in her mind what it would have looked like to watch people raiding the bunkers. She saw desperate people, fighting past the armed guards and risking their lives for a few meals. It must have been chaotic. The image was abruptly interrupted, however, as another memory of the mysterious chanting men flashed in her mind… “Feet that are quick to rush into evil…” came their dark, melodic speech.

The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

She strained to look closer at the hooded men who were chanting around the large fire. There wasn’t enough time though, as the vision quickly faded into a dark red mist. As the mist dissipated, the young girl saw that she was back in the bunker with her friends. “That was the fourth time that’s happened!” Rebekah thought to herself. Questions filled her mind. “What’s causing these memories all of a sudden? Were these even memories at all? They seem so real, yet so unfamiliar at the same time. They started the day the bunker opened, was there something in the air causing them? If so, then was anybody else seeing things?” The questions found no answers in her thoughts. A new question came to her mind. Rebekah turned to Noblen. “Even if the people died off, wouldn’t their bunker’s light still come on when the air cleared and the doors opened?” Stomplad shook his head. He took a deep breath, and then spoke in a calmer voice. “No, my young friend. The bunkers are equipped with life sensors. If there’s no life within their walls, they will shut down and remain closed.” The girl’s eyebrows sloped in her confusion. “Why would they stay closed?” Noblen, as usual, had an answer for her. “To prevent the spread of disease. The people may have died long before hunger set in. And if they’re all dead, then there’s no need for the doors to open.” Rebekah was a little unsettled by that statement. Technology wasn’t always dependable. “What if the life sensors malfun…” “Stomplad!” came a shout from the top of the long stairway. “Stomplad!” “What is it, boy?” the large man’s voice boomed back. “Come quick!” the young man shouted from outside. “We’ve found a den in the caves. The bears are still alive! We’ve found food!” Urgency washed over Stomplad’s face. His chair went flying backwards as he dashed up the stairs in a blur. Though Rebekah had never doubted the strength that his muscular body obviously provided him, she was amazed at how a man of his build could move so fast. And she wondered why he looked so concerned. She dashed after him, snatching up her pack and sliding it on as she went. Even if Stomplad was fast for his size, no one in the bunker could match Rebekah’s speed. She could hear Stomplad’s voice echoing off the walls around her, calling for the others outside to stop the hunters. Rebekah quickly caught up to Stomplad. As they ran down the rocky trail to the caves, she asked him “Why are you not excited? We’ll have fresh meat now!” Stomplad didn’t even look over at her as he spoke, “No time to talk now, girl. We have to get to that cave and preserve the life of those bears.” They hadn’t had fresh meat for years. Why wouldn’t Stomplad let them eat the beasts? Why did he care so much about the bears surviving? No answers came to mind. Still, Rebekah knew well enough to trust Stomplad in such matters. The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Nodding to Stomplad, she bolted past him as fast as she could run. By Stomplad’s word, she had to save the bears. Minutes later she was deep in the large dark cave. She could see the men, one of them holding a torch. “Stop!” she cried out. Her words were pointless, she quickly realized. These men always ignored her. One of the hunters was just pulling the spear back over his head. The bear was coming towards him, towards death by impalement. Rebekah dove at the back of the man’s knees. Her shoulders threw his legs forward, causing his body to fall back to the ground. She heard the spear fall from the hunter’s hand, clanging against the stone floor a few feet away. Rebekah wondered if the man any idea what was going on. She figured he would probably be a lot more worried about the enraged bear coming closer, at least until she stood as a barrier between the fallen man and the beast. Rebekah knew the bear would be upon her as soon as she came out of her roll. And she was right. The large paw tore the cold damp air with its large claws, swinging straight for her midsection. Had she not already directed her momentum to the side she would have been ripped open. There was no time to celebrate; another paw was descending in a blur. Rebekah reversed her roll just in time, dodging both the second paw and the full weight of the bear coming down behind it. With a burst of strength her arms straightened and her body sprang into the air. She flipped and twisted as she landed in a crouch, less than ten feet from the angry beast. The timing was perfect, as Stomplad’s huge frame leaped over the girl and slammed down between her and the bear. With a deafening roar he made his presence clear to all within a mile. The bear replied with a low growl and a threatening look. After a few moments it took a couple steps back. The hairy beast locked its gaze on the large man’s eyes, and Rebekah knew it would find in them more intensity than in its own. Stomplad made no advance, and so the bear held its place between the large man and the rest of the bears in the den. Stomplad reached down into a pouch at his side and grabbed a handful of large pellets. He began to toss the food on the ground around the bears. After a few handfuls, he spoke to the hunters without looking their way. “Pack up your weapons and leave.” The hunters hesitated. Looking upon one in particular, Rebekah saw his grip tighten around the spear in his hand. Then her vision blurred, and she heard the drawn out chanting once again… “Haughty eyes, a proud look…” Flames danced around the men in black hoods, and Rebekah was sure she heard the fire whispering to her. “Death… Death…”

The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

The flames quickly grew high into the sky, and then became the deep red mist. Rebekah came out of the vision, looking at a man whose spear was pointed at another man. At Stomplad! “Stomplad, lookout behind you!” she cried. Stomplad turned around to face a spearhead speeding towards his body. He started to bring his arms up, crossing them in front of him. Rebekah knew they wouldn’t be there in time to block the weapon. The spear never hit its mark. Rebekah kicked at the man’s knees as she grabbed the spear. By shifting the man’s weight and smacking his wrists, it was easy for her to gain control of the weapon. After what appeared to be one magnificent movement, she was standing firm with the spearhead pressed against the off balance man’s throat. Rebekah’s face was red with rage. “Why?” she asked demandingly. The hunter’s face showed only fear. The cold metal against his neck could steal his next breath before he was able to take it, and Rebekah was making sure he knew it. Even so, the shaking man spoke. “What makes him think he can order us around? There’s fresh food right here and he keeps us from it. I’m not going to let him take it for himself.” Though Rebekah had reacted quickly when the man threatened her friend, she realized that a lot had happened in those few moments. She remembered the hateful look on the man’s face before he struck out, and she remembered the vision that came upon her. Even now the hunter’s eyes held a bit of the same look they had before he tried stabbing Stomplad. “Haughty eyes, a proud look” Rebekah said without realizing it. “She’s got you figured out, Dohl” Stomplad said, coming up next to them. Dohl spat at the large man. Rebekah pressed the spear in, teasing Dohl’s blood with release. Stomplad looked to the other three hunters. “Who else has a complaint?” The hunters looked to Dohl with fear filled eyes, their hands shaking at their sides. Stomplad sighed. Speaking to the other hunters he said “Don’t worry. Dohl’s finished. You are in no danger from him any longer.” With that the men seemed to relax their bodies a bit. Then they looked upon Dohl and began to stutter slightly. “Well,” Stomplad said with a smile, “spit it out.” “We’ve been starving ourselves for lack of food” one of the hunters finally said. “And now that we The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

find game you stop us from our hunt.” All eyes, including Rebekah’s, turned to Stomplad. The big man chuckled and nodded. “Well, I guess that could seem a bit confusing. Let me clear it up. When we’re sitting around in the bunker and I read the Bible passages out loud, do any of you put yourselves into the places of the people from the stories? Do you try to see the world from their point of view to gain a better understanding? When Noah and his family left the ark, do you suppose that they immediately began hunting?” He turned and pointed at the bears in the cave. “Would we have these bears today if Noah’s family behaved so rashly?” “We’re starving!” Dohl shot back. “You might be hungry, but you’re alive!” Stomplad returned with equal intensity. “We have no future hope if we show no patience. The forests have already grown thick. We’ll survive if we’re careful.” Dohl’s eyes sank deeper into his face, as his red cheeks raised to meet his dropping, wrinkled brow. “Keep the fairytales of your God to yourself. We are real people, and these bears are real food. Reality, not religious make believe!” Rebekah renewed the pressure against Dohl’s neck as she spoke. “That’s what the other fools said when they raided the bunkers. Your kind of thinking is the reason we ran short on food in the first place.” “Enough of your poisonous talk, Dohl” Stomplad said. He reached forward, grabbed the hunter’s neck, and lifted him into the air. “With small numbers and resources, we cannot afford to have a murderer and his wickedness dwelling freely amongst us.” Rebekah watched as Dohl tried desperately to resist Stomplad’s grip. She was glad that everyone present would see that it was getting the small man nowhere. Charlie, one of the hunters, smiled and said “Maybe we should feed him to the bears. That way he can be a help to us all instead of a detriment.” After years in the bunker together, Rebekah couldn’t remember Charlie ever showing any sign of malice or hatred towards anyone. She laughed. Stomplad chuckled too. “No, Charlie. I’ve got other plans for this man.” Stomplad began walking out of the cave, tucking Dohl’s head under his large arm. “Come, let the bears feed on the pellets. They’ll multiply in the next few years, and we’ll have our meat soon enough.” “Do you think they’ll survive that long?” Charlie asked. “They’re likely going to compete with us for what little food is to be found.” “Whether they live or die” Stomplad said, “we’ll trust in the wisdom of the Lord. By His will we all live or die.” Soaking it all in, Rebekah could now understand a bit more of what Stomplad had told her many years ago. Because of the wickedness of man, the world was being destroyed. And though the war was in many ways considered to be the end of the world, they had a new hope now that the bunker had preserved them for. The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

She was starting to believe that if the truths of the Word continued to be ignored, they might yet face the death of man. They left the caves, and headed back to the bunker… Stomplad dragging Dohl in a chokehold as they went. ******************************* Rebekah still couldn’t believe what Dohl had done. She thought that after a few days the shock of what Dohl did would have died off, leaving her to think about other things. The only other distraction her thoughts found though was this puzzle of the visions. “These have to be memories” she thought, though she didn’t know why she was so sure of it. “How could they be memories? What she was seeing was so foreign, yet so familiar. When did it happen? And what about the flames and mist? Memories of an impossible event that never happened… the answers are only more confusing.” As she sat in the dense tree near the river’s edge, trying to figure out what was going on in her mind, Rebekah noticed a man in a dark hooded robe walking along the riverbank. He looked a lot like the men in her visions. He was approaching another man she hadn’t noticed till just then, a man by then name of Franky. From her perch she was mostly hidden, though she was close enough to the men to hear them as they began to talk. And with the way the wandering man was dressed, Rebekah’s attention had shifted to their conversation. “I’m surprised you didn’t know, Franky” continued the man in the hood. “Many of the bunkers were shown to have wiring problems long before the final day.” Rebekah had never heard that bit of information before. However, what the man said wasn’t what surprised her the most. What did surprise her was the flame she saw upon the tongue of the hooded man. She felt her hands begin to sweat and her heart pound in her chest. What kind of man could make flames on his tongue?! What else would such a man be capable of? Fear began washing over her. She began to worry about a fire breathing man killing off the whole group of survivors. She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to entertain such thoughts. She needed to focus. She needed to find out who this man was. Rebekah strained to see his face, finding only darkness and flame. The shadow of his hood kept his identity hidden. She was still unnerved by the fire in his mouth. As he continued to talk, his voice faded from the young woman’s conscious thoughts. She became fixed upon his flaming tongue. She suddenly realized the flame was shooting straight at her face, causing her to pull her head back in surprise. Then all was as deep night around a campfire. The hooded men were in their slow, hypnotic chant. “A lying tongue...” She wanted to see their faces. Instead, all she saw was their fists swinging forward and opening toward the flames.

The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Suddenly the fire exploded in rage. Rebekah again heard a word in its roar… “Death…” “A lying tongue” came the chant again, louder than the last. And then another burst of the roaring flame… “Death…” The flames licked up the vision of the hooded men, taking up Rebekah’s entire line of sight. The deep red mist quickly soaked up the flames. Then the mist faded. Franky stood alone on the riverbank, looking up into the tree where she sat. The hooded man was gone. She jumped down quickly, spinning as she landed to look in every direction. “What’s wrong Rebekah?” asked Franky. Rebekah saw a dark shadow about a hundred feet into the woods. It was speeding away from her. There was no time to talk. She bolted after the shadow into the woods. ****************************** It had been 6 hours, and every time Rebekah thought she had found the hooded man he disappeared just as fast. It frustrated her greatly. The sun was already digging into the horizon and burying the light with it. She was getting farther and farther from the bunker, and realized that she had better go home. She’d have to settle for asking Franky who the man was. As she walked back she found some comfort in her surroundings. After the event with the bears she had a new appreciation for all the life she saw welling up in the woods around her. She hadn’t been this far into the woods since they enter the bunker, and had no idea there were so many little critters out here. The closer she got to camp, though, the less life she saw. It was after midnight when she returned. “Well it’s good to see you’re ok” came a quiet voice from among the trees just outside of camp. She recognized it right away. “Thank you Noblen” Rebekah replied. She turned to see him walking out of the darkness toward her. “Have you been waiting for long?” “Stomplad got worried just before midnight” Noblen replied, looking her over. No doubt he was making sure she was ok. “I told him I’d keep an eye out for you.” Rebekah shook her head and let out a laugh of frustration. “I’m 19 years old Noblen. And I’m not exactly a helpless woman.”

The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Noblen smiled at her. He made the slightest flick of his wrist, sending a marble the color of night speeding silently toward Rebekah’s forehead. With reflexes like a wild cat she snatched it out of the air. “I know you can handle yourself Rebekah” Noblen said, nodding at the marble in her hand. “That’s not my concern. It’s not it’s not like you to be out so late. And with the recent events, it’s wise for us to look out for each other. Besides, where could you have possibly been at so late? It’s not like there are any theaters around these days.” Rebekah was pleased with the test. It was a sign of his respect for her. But for some reason, she still didn’t want to reveal what had happened earlier. Trying to move on, she said “I was looking for something. By the way, do you know where Franky is?” Noblen laughed. “He’s probably sleeping by now. Do you realize what time it is?” Rebekah’s mouth went straight as she nodded. She hadn’t thought about the fact that Franky would likely have gone to bed hours ago. “Yeah. Look, I’m really sorry Noblen” she said. “Thank you for waiting up for me. I didn’t mean to worry you guys. Let’s let Stomplad know I’m back so we can all get some rest.” Not a minute later they were at the entrance of the bunker. Stomplad was leaning against the entrance watching them. “Looking for something you say?” Stomplad asked Rebekah. “Yeah,” she responded nervously. She was trying to think of a distraction as quickly as she could. Stomplad leaned in close. “Rebekah, what were you looking for in the dark woods in the middle of the night?” Her thoughts went to a ring of hers that had great sentimental value. She tried to speak, and suddenly felt a burning in her throat. She tried again and she felt her lips burn as a flame burst up in front of her. She coughed hard, and the burning was gone. When she opened her eyes, she saw the men chanting around the flames again. “A lying tongue” came their chant, with more fervor than before. “A lying tongue!” they shouted melodiously. They tossed a dust into the flames, and the flames leaped in response. The fire spoke the word “death” in its roar, clearer than before. The hot flames continued higher, reaching out to her. Rebekah’s attempt to pull back was too slow. The flames tore into her mouth, burning all the way down to her stomach. Rebekah dropped to her knees in pain. Everything was red. Then she felt a pulse inside her body. She began to vomit, though flames were all that came out. Her stomach convulsed again, but as she opened her eyes she realized that only air came out now. The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

And she also realized she was kneeling before Stomplad, crying. “Are you ok?” Noblen asked, crouched at her side. Stomplad was crouched as well, with his large comforting hand on the back of her head. “Rebekah, are you alright?” Her stomach was only a bit unsettled now, and the burning had mostly stopped. She looked Stomplad in the eyes and spoke with a weak voice. “I think so.” Stomplad paused for a minute, and replied soothingly. “We’ll work this out tomorrow, ok?” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. Rebekah knew Stomplad genuinely loved her as if she was his own daughter. Not only had he told her many times, he also proved it often. Stomplad picked Rebekah up in his arms, and carried her to her bed as a father would carry a small child. As Stomplad tucked her in and read her a few psalms, Rebekah closed her eyes and felt a peace wash over her. She heard him blow out the light and leave her room. She was drained. Sleep came quickly. ************************* Rebekah made haste looking for Franky early the next day. It was warm and sunny, raising her hopes of finding the man. She felt horrible for not being up front with Stomplad and Noblen. Somehow she felt that speaking with Franky about the hooded man would clear things up, and she wanted to make sure that Stomplad and Noblen were there to hear it. She was pleasantly surprised to find Franky already talking with Stomplad and Noblen on the edge of camp. Charlie was with them as well; he had been staying close to Stomplad ever since Dohl’s attempt on Stomplad’s life. “Rebekah,” Stomplad called out to her, “you’re looking better. Good morning.” “Good morning guys” she said back. Noblen waved his hand toward Franky. “We happened across Franky this morning, and told him you were looking for him. He said he hasn’t the faintest idea why.” Rebekah was a bit taken back. She thought it should be obvious. “Franky, you don’t remember what happened down by the river yesterday?” “Well sure I do” Franky replied with a smile. “I was looking for fish, didn’t find any though. How did you know I was down by the river?” Something was wrong. Really wrong. “Franky I saw you down there, and you saw me! I was in the tree, remember? You asked me if I was ok. Listen, I saw you talking to that guy in the hood. Who was he?”

The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Franky gave the other three men a look of confusion. A small flame began to dance on his tongue. “You didn’t see me talking to anyone Rebekah. I was alone down there, and I never saw you.” Then Franky opened his mouth wide at Rebekah. He was blowing a large fireball straight at her. It smacked her in the face. She expected it to burn horribly. There was no pain. As the fireball disappeared, she was in the vision once more. “A false witness, who pours forth lies” they chanted, this time in their slow melodic tone. The flames were brighter, and their faces were a bit easier to see. “A false witness” they chanted again, dusting the flames. Yes! It was much brighter now. Then, just as she was beginning to make out a face, the flames jumped up in the way. “Death!” the flame growled at her threateningly. It wasn’t enough time. The red mist faded in, faded out, and Rebekah was back talking with the four men. She wasn’t in any pain like she had been last time, and she was very glad for that. All four of them were looking at Rebekah, likely wondering why she was spacing out. It was obvious to her that Charlie, Noblen and Stomplad were oblivious to the fireball that came out of Franky’s mouth. What wasn’t obvious to her was whether or not Franky knew what he had done. “I don’t know why you’re lying, Franky,” Rebekah said bluntly, “but I’m going to find out whatever it is your hiding.” She came in close to Franky, and with a grave voice said “You tell that hooded man that I’m coming for him.” She turned to Stomplad. “This is getting nowhere. Don’t trust him. A man in a hood came to him yesterday and told him that the wiring under many of the bunkers was bad long before they were used. I couldn’t hear the rest.” Both Stomplad and Noblen turned to Franky. Neither of them had ever had a bad experience with Franky that she knew of. She didn’t care though. Both of them were very close to Rebekah, and she had never given them a reason to doubt her integrity. Charlie looked like he didn’t know what to think. As Rebekah turned and walked off she heard Stomplad’s deep voice addressing Franky. “I don’t know what’s all going on here. What I do know is that you got my girl there pretty worked up. It isn’t like her to be so upset. If you got something to say, you’d better come clean. Now.” She paused just past the tree line, her back only 15 feet from them. As soon as she heard Franky begin spewing more of his lie, she continued on her way. Rebekah knew that if she didn’t get away from the man that she would be very tempted to beat the truth out of him. ****************************

The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Rebekah found it quite easy to track Franky after he was finished talking to Charlie, Stomplad and Noblen. At this point she was more concerned with who he talked to than what he talked about. If these two were going to such great lengths to keep the hooded man’s identity secret, then it would surely shed some light on things if she could find him out. There wasn’t too much out of the ordinary during the first day she followed Franky. The only difference was that he was more social than she had ever seen him be before, and that he was constantly looking over his shoulder. She didn’t know if it was because of her, or because of the hooded man. Whatever the case was, none of the people he spoke with seemed to act abnormally. The second day was very different however. While everyone was out about their work, Franky met with two men in the bunker. Both were hidden in dark hoods and cloaks. As stealthily as possible, Rebekah crept closer and closer, until she was just barely able to hear some of their conversation echoing off the metal walls. Franky was replying to them sternly, “If we get caught it’s going to be as bad for us as it is for Dohl.” “Don’t cower back on us Franky” one hooded man said back, just as sternly. “You’re committed. Just put the bear meat under Stomplad’s bed…” Rebekah was surprised by what she heard, and even more surprised when she saw flames begin to twirl on the chests of all three men. The three swirls of fire joined together in their dance, and with the blink of an eye they were upon her. “Time to see if Psalm 6 is the key” she thought to herself... “Hearts that devise wicked schemes” came the chant from the hooded men around the campfire. Their voices rang out into the darkness, though this time it sounded as if there were three different melodies in the chant. The aroma of death filled her nostrils. This was the first time she smelled anything in the visions. As Rebekah looked closer around the fire, she noticed human skulls. Some were smashed by jagged rocks, with no small amount of white powder next to the bones. Then she watched as the hooded men threw the powder into the fire. White powder. The fire blasted high when the powder fell upon it. Along with the word “death” coming from the roar, she now noticed images of skulls formed by the flames. “Hearts that devise wicked schemes” the hooded men chanted once more. They threw the powder, and as Rebekah expected, the flames grew quickly until they were all she could see. Then the red mist came and took the vision away. “Yes!” she thought to herself. Rebekah was sure now of what the visions meant. Though she still didn’t know how she was seeing them, she at least knew a way to take advantage of them now. As excited as she was, Rebekah was careful to stay still. She didn’t want to be noticed. She watched as the men handed Franky the bear meat, and as he went into Stomplad’s room while the hooded men guarded the entrance to the room. Franky came back out empty handed. The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Rebekah had witnessed the treason. “Quickly now,” one of the hooded men said to the other two with him. “We have to spread this quickly, before Stomplad can do anything about it.” The three men began running to the entrance of the bunker. Right at Rebekah. She looked around. There was nowhere to hide! They would see her for sure, and she knew things would get physical at that point. Then a plan came to Rebekah’s mind. If she bolted out and ran for Stomplad, then they’d be forced to give chase. They wouldn’t have time to finish their plan. The chanting voices came again. “A man who stirs up dissension among brothers.” She didn’t need to wait for the vision. She knew what was coming, and she knew, now, that if she got far enough away from the three men then the vision wouldn’t come. As fast as she could Rebekah made for the bunker door. The sound of her footsteps carried loudly. A moment later she heard the men shouting “Get her!” She stopped and looked back. The men were only twenty feet behind. She wanted them to think they had a chance at catching her. “Get back here” Franky yelled. What a ridiculous request, Rebekah thought. She hoped the man would continue to be as dull. It would help when this all came to a head. Rebekah bolted forward again. She knew where she could find Stomplad, and hoped that Noblen would be there as well. It wasn’t too long before the speedy chase brought Rebekah and the three men a good distance into the woods, isolated from the rest of the people and within earshot of Stomplad. As they came around the last bend in the trail, Rebekah saw Stomplad cutting firewood in a clearing. Charlie and Noblen were stacking it. “Stomplad! Noblen!” she cried out. “You’re in danger!” All three of the men turned. Stomplad had obviously heard what she yelled; he was holding his ax as if ready to strike someone. Moments later she was upon them, the other three men just coming into sight. “They’re trying to set you up” she said to Stomplad. “They planted bear meat in your room, and were planning on turning everyone against you!” “This isn’t going to be pretty” Noblen said to Stomplad as he scratched the back of his neck. Stomplad nodded back at Noblen, readjusting his grip on the ax. Charlie looked around with confusion on his face.

The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Then Franky and the hooded men arrived. “You’re obviously in on it too!” Franky said to her. His voice sounded malicious. “Remove your hoods” Stomplad said in a commanding voice. The two men took a half a step backwards, but left their hoods in place. Franky came within a step of Stomplad, and pointed a shaky finger at the large man’s chest. “You didn’t stop the hunt to preserve the bears! You did it so you could have the meat all to yourself! Did you think we wouldn’t smell the meat coming from your room? We demand you release Dohl, and leave! Forever!” Stomplad eyeballed Franky and his mysterious companions, as he leaned his ax upon his shoulder. A few moments later he spoke in a low, threatening voice. “You three know the penalty for such false accusations.” Charlie stepped toward Stomplad and Franky. “We voted in the bunker to abide by the community laws in the Bible. Before you go any further Franky, you should read what it says. You know where it is written.” And with that Charlie handed his large Bible to Franky. Franky glared at Charlie. As he reached out for the Bible, Rebekah saw flames leap from Charlie’s hand toward the Bible. She heard the words mix with the flames as they whooshed in her direction, as fast as lightning. When they disappeared, she saw that she was again in a dark vision at the fire. The hooded men were now swaying back and forth. They chanted louder than ever before, “Hands that shed innocent blood!” Rebekah didn’t understand. Franky said they wanted to banish Stomplad, not kill him. Then she remembered the path of the flames that initiated the vision this time. The hooded men tossed the white powder into the flames as they began to chat again. “Hands that…” “NO!” she screamed, dashing forward. She hadn’t tried moving that much in one of the visions before. Still, she knew she didn’t have enough time to wait. A white flashed blinded her, as an invisible wall knocked her to her feet. Rebekah shook the pain and brightness almost instantly. She was out of the vision now, laying flat on her back. All eyes were on her. “Stomplad!” she cried. She tried to get to her feet and failed. She didn’t have the strength to stand. “The Bible, something’s wrong! He’s going to kill you!” Stomplad looked straight to the book. “Give it here!” he said with coldness in his voice. Franky handed the Bible to Stomplad. After a quick examination, Stomplad looked to Charlie, and then to Franky. “It appears to be safe The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Rebekah” he said, keeping his overwhelming gaze locked upon Franky’s eyes. “Why are you on the ground young lady?” “The vision knocked me down,” Rebekah replied. Again she tried to stand, feeling her strength returning. She was back on her feet on the first try. Stomplad turned to her. His bushy eyebrows were scrunched up, yet his face was soft. He looked concerned and confused. He started to say something, and then paused before the words came out. A moment later he spoke softly to her. “What vision?” Even with his caring response, Rebekah was on edge as she spoke. “I’ve been having these visions. Men in hooded robes, chanting around a fire. Every time I see someone committing one of the seven sins that Psalm 6 says God hates, I see fire come from their body and it sends me into the vision. This time the flames came from Franky’s hand, and bounced off of the Bible before coming to me. This time they said ‘Hands that shed innocent blood.’ He’s trying to kill you!” Stomplad looked back to the hooded men behind Franky. “Rebekah, I love you as a daughter. I can see these traitors are trying to sabotage me. But considering everything, including your behavior in the last few days, I’m worried more for you than for myself.” Rebekah was completely surprised by Stomplad’s response. As she stood up and looked around, she saw that everybody was looking at her strangely. She then realized how crazy she must appear to them. Whether she looked crazy or not didn’t matter to her though. She knew what she saw. “Stomplad, please. I’m not out of my mind!” She began to walk toward him. Stomplad shook his head and held out his hand in a gesture to stop. “Stay where you are Rebekah. I see no danger in this book, not for me. Let Franky read the punishment for himself so we can be done with this whole thing. We’ll figure your visions out later.” Rebekah obeyed. A tear fell from the young fighter’s eye. The tall man handed the book back to Franky. “Read” he said. Franky took the book and opened it up. “Crafty fellow that I am, I caught you by trickery” he said. Stomplad glared at Franky. Rebekah knew that wasn’t the right passage. Then there was a click, followed immediately by the sound of a blade being buried into a man’s chest. “NO!” Rebekah cried out. Stomplad took a large step back. As he did the ax shot up into the air, and was yanked straight down upon Franky. Stomplad tore it down through one side of Franky’s collarbone, and planted it nearly a foot down into the man’s torso. Both men dropped limply to the ground. She had no time to see if Stomplad was ok. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Charlie was about to pounce on her. The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Noblen was standing right behind him though. With his hand already at the back of his neck and inside his shirt, he pulled a long blade out and immediately brought it down in front of him. Charlie didn’t even finish his first step before Rebekah saw him stop and throw his chest out forward. He cried out in pain as he fell to die. With rage in her face Rebekah turned to meet the immanent attack from the robed men at her back. The man that was now to her left brought a dagger toward her throat. She knew immediately that this man was a stranger to combat. With a flick of her wrist she spun the dagger back at the man and took the weapon as her own. She continued her move without pause, burying it deep into the shadow of the hood. As the first man fell dead, the other man swung at her with a longer dagger. She quickly twisted her body to smack the attack away with her free arm, and found out too late that the man had another long dagger in his other hand. She felt the metal of it tear across her arm, causing her to cry out in pain. The man gave her no time to gather herself. Immediately he began to jab both blades at the girl. His pace increased with every attack, and their combat became a deadly dance. In better circumstances she could have turned the tables and been on the offensive. But her arm was wounded deeply, limiting her use of it. She continued her desperate defense, hoping to find a way to break the man’s advantage and take control of the fight. Then suddenly the man fell, and she saw Noblen standing behind him looking down. Noblen’s sword was wet with blood, and the side of the hooded man’s body was sliced open. The hooded man twitched, and then was still. He never moved again. Rebekah spun around, making sure there were no other threats. Seeing none, she dashed over to Stomplad, tears suddenly pouring out. Noblen ran with her, kneeling down as she did when they came to Stomplad’s body. The large man was lying on his side, blood oozing from his chest where the large blade was still deeply buried. Stomplad spoke quietly, “I’m sorry I doubted you Rebekah.” “No, please” she replied, barely able to speak through her sobbing. “I don’t care; I just want you to hold on.” “Listen to me,” Stomplad said. “You are a very brave woman. Because of you, the people are now safe. There’s a good chance we were the only bunker to survive. The future of mankind lies in the fate of our group. These men would have oppressed and killed others had they pulled all this off. You’ve done us all a great good.” Noblen nodded. “He’s right Rebekah. We would have been caught completely unaware if it wasn’t for you. Their plan would have left us dead, and the others would have been happy about it after hearing The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

their gossip.” “You must find Dohl.” Stomplad cut in. “Why?” Rebekah asked in confusion. “I thought you took care of him?” “Yeah,” Stomplad replied, “I imprisoned him. Someone let him out though. Find Dohl, and give him swift justice for his murderous actions. Things are going to be very hard now. The two of you are going to have to bear my burden. Don’t let me down.” Rebekah’s tears fell faster. “Don’t leave me Stomplad. I’m scared.” Stomplad lifted his shaking hand and pull Rebekah in close. He kissed her forehead. “Don’t be scared. The Lord shall be with you if you honor Him and love Him. Never turn your back on Him Rebekah.” “I won’t, Stomplad” she said, returning his love with a kiss on his forehead. Stomplad looked to Noblen, and they exchanged nods. Then Stomplad rolled his head back toward Rebekah. He looked at her softly, smiled, and closed his eyes. She saw no more signs of pain. Rebekah fell over him, losing all the wetness in her eyes. She felt Noblen’s comforting embrace, still her grief held fast. Hours passed. As the sun began to hide behind the horizon, Rebekah and Noblen finally arose and buried their friend before heading back toward the bunker. As they passed the hooded men, they looked to see who they were. The less experienced fighter was one of Dohl’s hunting companions. The other man was Dohl. Though she was already spent, mixed feelings began to well up inside Rebekah’s heart. She found comfort in knowing that Dohl was gone, as Stomplad had asked her to make sure of. All that considered, she had still killed two men. Noblen, always seeming to know what to say, said “Don’t feel guilt Rebekah. Stomplad and I were elected to enforce the law. Our bearing of the sword was not in vain. We chose to have your help in the matter. Your hands are clean.” She looked to him and nodded. Then she looked back one more time to her dear friend’s grave, a quiet mound of dirt covered with all the flowers she was able to find nearby. Rebekah wiped away one last tear. “Rest in peace, Stomplad. Goodbye.”

The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Cris Jesse is a Christian author from the Pacific Northwest. In 2003, he married his love, Rebekah. They hope to one day have a house full of children, but for now they have two wonderful dogs, which think of as human. Serving God is Cris' greatest passion. While theology is his favorite genre to read, fantasy fiction is his favorite genre to write. As people read his works, he hopes that their souls will burst with a desire to give God glory. He says that "Fantasy fiction allows us to see Truth in the world, in ways that our eyes could never perceive. We ache for Him, though we do not always recognize Who that aching is for. That ache can easily be personified in fantasy fiction. In fantasy fiction, we get just a glimpse at That which is really all around us."

The Death of Man

Cris Jesse

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

COSMIC CONVERSATION: Three Key Elements to Spec-Fic By John Turney Speculative Fiction rests in a unique place in literature. Such fiction often exits in alien worlds populated by odd creatures. So how does a writer of spec-fic create believable worlds and new life-forms? On the other hand, how does a spec-fic writer avoid the traps of stereotypical characters? As if that weren’t enough, the plot must be intriguing. Breaking the craft of fictional writing into three areas—character development, plot development and setting development—will help the fiction writer maintain these three key elements under control while writing. Over the next several columns, I would like to discuss the craft of writing fiction, focusing on scifi and fantasy. Three key elements of fiction are characters, plot and setting. These three form a strong pyramid upon which to craft your fiction. The idea of the pyramid aids in formatting your story, whether you do that as a mental exercise, a written exercise, or both. Use the pyramid to visualize these elements of your story. Some stories develop strong characters while the setting becomes less important and the plot falls in between. Then there are plot driven stories where the setting becomes only a little less important than the plot and the characters are a few steps better than cardboard cutouts. On occasion, the setting of the stories takes preeminence and almost feels like a character itself. If all three elements turn out to be equal, then you have a pie-chart. Each element of the story balances evenly. In these stories, one element draws the reader to another which in turn leads to the third and then the cycle starts over. How these three elements play can only be determined by the writer. There is no right or wrong way in the development and deployment of the three. It’s called craft and can be learned and strengthened by use. Let’s take a brief look at the three elements. Character. These are the folk inhabiting your fiction, with whom readers develop a relationship. Characters have lives, which unfold in the reader’s mind. Characters will have good qualities, bad qualities and quirks. Just like real people. In spec-fic, the writer will deal with characters that are not human. Sci-fi will have its aliens while fantasy have creatures of myth. Plot. This is the storyline. It’s what takes place between the characters. Plot doesn’t happen on its own. It flows, bouncing the characters off one another all the while increasing the tension. The expanding pressure enables characters to develop, to solve, to love, to live. In spec-fic, the plot takes on and explores human ideals all the while developing an adventure for the reader. And there happens to be a formula for crafting fun plots. More of this in another article. Setting. Characters and plot take root in the setting. This fictional microcosm functions much like a pie crust by holding all the ingredients. Setting provides the reader a place to go to. Characters need to interact with the environment. The modern reader does not need a lot of detailed description. Modern travel, the internet and photography have all played a role in bringing information of exotic locations to the reader. Yet in spec-fic, the setting often dwells in worlds existing only in the mind of the writer. A reader can’t go to GoogleEarth or the internet to see the setting for themselves. Thus, the spec-fic writer finds it necessary to build a realistic world. Too much description ruins the plot. Not enough description and the world lacks substance. Further Conversations will discuss on creating realistic characters, settings and a workable plot.

Cosmic Conversations

John Turney

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Wind Farm Annie by Tony Lavoie

The control room didn't just bounce, it bucked. Farmer, his torso python-held in his console chair harness, shook with the kite. His arms and legs, free of restraint, performed a brief octopus dance until he brought them under control and planted them firmly on the console. Greene had not been harnessed. As the kite first lurched upward, the younger man slammed into his console, then pitched backward over his seat as the huge vessel rebounded. "What in the world was that?" asked Greene, picking himself off the floor and brushing a clump of sandy hair from his eyes. From where Farmer sat, it didn't look as if his apprentice had hit the console hard enough to crack anything, but he'd place odds that the younger man would carry around a bruise or two for some time. Farmer had an idea of what had happened, but he didn't answer right away. The wind harvester had been hit by turbulence before--a hundred twenty-nine kilometers up in Titan's thick atmosphere it was hard to avoid--but never before had any turbulence kicked the kite with enough force to throw an operator from his seat. Worse, the harvester was now experiencing a slow oscillation, rocking up and down and side to side, each gyration a little more pronounced than the last. Farmer pulled his ragged cap back down over his grey hair. His hands flew over his control panels, punching buttons, flipping switches, fighting to bring the kite back under control. His rough, experienced fingers flew from one bank to the next in sequence. He had been harvesting wind on Titan since before Greene was born, and he knew this kite better than most seasoned Starforce captains knew their own ships. "Pull up the feeds," Farmer grunted, "and you should buckle down in case there's another bump." The younger man sat back down and began punching his own buttons, waking up the monitor screens on his panels. He did not buckle himself in, Farmer noticed. The massive kite still pitched and yawed, but was settling down under Farmer's expert touch. "Interior sensors are good," Greene announced, "Port and starboard main...both okay. Pulling up the status grid." He paused, staring down at one of the screens. "What the...?" Sparing a glance from his own panels, Farmer looked over at the young man. "Seeing some gaps in the grid, are you?" "Yes." The younger man's surprise was apparent in his strained voice. "I count...fifteen generators showing as zero in the port wing. Looks like maybe...twenty-three starboard. And I get no numbers at all from generators one eighty-four through two hundred. They're all blank!" "Easy, son," Farmer soothed. "Remember your training. Can you get any video off the starboard wing cams?" "Uh..." the younger man flipped several more switches, throwing the last one several times. "I get feeds up to row eighty. Everything further out is blank. Hang on, lemme swivel cam eighty out toward the tip." Visual cameras on a wind-kite were useless way up here in the heart of Titan's thick cloud cover, so the kite sported unique video feeds, using a combination of radio and other waves fed into the kite's powerful computers to build a picture. Greene turned a couple of dials and stared at the accompanying image. His eyes widened.

Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

"The end of the wing is gone! It's just...torn off! What can knock the wing off a kite?" "Get a grip, Ace," Farmer said, concentrating on adjusting several controls at once, "Which way are the struts bent?" His companion stared back down at the screen for a moment, adjusting the camera's focus. "Looks like the girders are all bent groundward." Greene answered, his voice quavering. "What does that mean? Did we get hit by a meteorite or something? Couldn't have been a cow, could it?" Farmer knew--perhaps better than anyone--that Titan's only native sky-dwellers were more than big enough to inflict serious damage on a kite, but he had never heard of one drifting this high up in atmo. The winds up here would tear apart the gentle creatures' delicate membranes in the space of a wingbeat. Despite the situation, a smile curled the edges of Farmer's lips at the younger man's nervous energy. Everything was a crisis for this younger generation. Well, okay, so this was a crisis, but it was one they could handle if they stayed calm. "Probably not meteorite," he said, chuckling, "and definitely not sky-cow." "Well then, what did hit us?" "Nothing, if I'm right," Farmer said, eliciting a confused glance from the younger man. "Tell me how far down the tether you can see." Despite his apparent and growing fear, Greene scanned his screens and punched several buttons. "Cams are good until kilometer one-sixty, then nothing." "Try modifying the antenna pick up to around the forty-five-hundred band." Farmer's hands were in constant motion on the panels before him. Greene seemed to pick up on this for the first time since the jolt had shaken their world. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Piloting." the older man replied. Greene went silent. Farmer could almost see the thoughts play out in the younger man's head: if Farmer is piloting the kite, that means we--but no, that couldn't happen. We were taught that it just couldn't happen. Based on the evidence before his eyes and the rumble beneath his boots, Farmer figured they'd need to change the curriculum a little, because apparently it had happened. Snapping himself back to the present with a body-long shake, Greene bent over his controls, adjusting the kite's surface-facing antennas. An image formed in one of Farmer's screens--a duplicate of the image Green's controls displayed--hazy at first but clearing as the computers sorted solid features from the thick cloud cover. "Okay," Greene said, adjusting the feeds some more, "I'm getting a weak feed from the K-one-sixoh-dash-two cam. It's hard to make out." "That signal's coming over radio and q-wave from nearly a hundred and sixty kilometers away, through several different layers of Titan atmo." Farmer adopted a patient professor tone. "You're

Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

forgetting about having to tighten the pickup area to eliminate the noise." He heard Greene's murmured curse at himself, and smiled. Farmer knew that his apprentice was well aware of how to handle the feeds--he'd aced the comm course at the academy, after all, top of the class--but his panic was getting in the way of his mind. The twin images built themselves clear as Greene tightened the antenna array's focus. Farmer, his suspicions confirmed by the display, grunted. Greene gasped.. "It looks like...but it can't be!" "What do you see?" asked Farmer, knowing the answer because he was staring at it, but wanting to force Greene's mind away from panic through thought. Greene swallowed and said, "I can see the end of the tether. It's...it's all frayed. It's not attached to the ground! We're not anchored!" Farmer only nodded. "Looks like something yanked us loose, probably an extra strong gust of wind, or maybe something smashed into the tether. Remember that anchor point is older than you are. Just goes to show that nature always gets her way when she wants it." "But I thought the tether anchors were supposed to be able to withstand anything!" Greene's panic raised the pitch of his voice by several notches. Farmer knew if Greene didn't get a grip on himself, he wasn't going to be any good at all. Concentrating on keeping the kite from becoming unbalanced and crashing to the ground, he could spare little effort toward mollifying the young apprentice farmer, but he had to calm the boy down. Thank God the tether was still attached to the gondola. The drag on the lower end helped keep the kite facing into the wind, making Farmer's job just a little easier. He knew that later, as the wind's force on the kite dropped below what was necessary to keep it aloft, he'd really need to draw on his piloting skills. Sparing a precious few moments away from his panels, he locked eyes with Greene. "Now listen here, son," he said. "We're going to find a solution to this, but only if we keep our wits about us. I've piloted kites before and they're a lot more stable than you think. The automatic beacon went off the moment the land-lines broke, so the colony down there knows the power's off. They'll re-route their feed from New Vega's kite long before they run out of power, and we have all the juice we need up here even with the missing generators. The drop ship's likely already been notified and should be coming into comm range within the hour." "But what about the tether?" Greene asked. "Won't it drag the kite down?" "Son, this kite is flying in the face of winds in excess of four hundred kilometers an hour." Well, that was technically true, but it was now drifting with that wind, so the forces keeping the kite airborne were actually weakening. Farmer kept that piece of information to himself. Already he could hear a lessening of the incessant drone of the wind against the control gondola's hull. Soon Greene would notice it too, and then he'd start panicking all over again. Keep his brain occupied, Farmer thought. Throw some numbers at his mathematical mind. "We were pulling something like a hundred forty million kilograms of lift," Farmer went on. "The kite weighs five million. The tether's just over a mill and a half. That still leaves us a buffer of well over a hundred thirty million kilos of lift, right?" He grinned at the young man and was pleased to see his tight shoulders relax--just a little. He never could resist an equation. Farmer supressed a grin. Controlling the kite's stability would become harder as its relative speed against the wind fell lower Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

and lower. Soon would come a point where Farmer would have to angle the control surfaces to bring the them to a shallow glide, effectively turning the two-kilometer-wide kite into a huge hang-glider. The real problem was that most of Titan's surface was methane sea, so the chances of landing on one of the moon's few sizeable land masses were very slim indeed. Not to mention the difficulty in piloting a kite when there was little wind for it to push against. That, and the suddenly critical fact that these kites were never meant to actually land. But there was no point mentioning any of that. Farmer watched with a nod as Greene, getting the point at last, buckled himself in. "You've piloted kites before?" the younger man asked, eyebrows raised, eyes all but begging for Farmer's reassurance. "Yep." "Any kites as big as Annie?" "Nope." Farmer wouldn't lie. "But Annie's the strongest and most atmo-worthy wind harvester I've ever captained. She'll keep us alive and safe until the drop ship can pick her out of the sky." "I hope you're right." Farmer almost missed Greene's murmured "Dear God, please let him be right." He suppressed another smile. "You got family down-side, Ace?" He asked, in an effrort to distract the younger man. "Wife and baby girl," Greene replied. "She just turned three. Guess she's not a baby any more, really." "You believe in God, son?" "Yeah," Greene replied after a moment's thought, "I guess so. I mean, He has to be real, right?" "Well, then," Farmer caught the younger man's gaze for a moment, "You believe in Him, you put your trust in Him. He'll take care of everything." As if punctuating Farmer's words, the communicator crackled. "Wind Harvester Twenty-Two, this is drop ship Miyagi." The voice was friendly, but concern tinted every word. "How do you read?" Farmer smiled at Greene and clicked open the channel. "Miyagi, this is Wind Farm Annie," he said. "That you up there, Jack?" "Aye, Will," the voice came back. "How you guys doing down there?" Farmer smiled again. "Not as well as we'd like, but we're still alive and aloft." He startled himself with the words. He hadn't used that phrase since the day he and Jack left the Starforce. "Glad to hear it, Colonel," Jack said. "You got a lot of folks pulling for you up here." Something about Jack's choice of words cut through Farmer's soul.

Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

"Jack, you and I never lied to each other, and we've been through too much together for gentle words," he said into the comm. "Spit it. What's the deal?" He heard the sigh over the channel. "Okay, Will, here it is, straight and level. We can't pick you up." Out of the corner of his eye, Farmer saw Greene blanch. Both men stared at the comm for a long moment. "I understand, Jack. Why not?" "You're smack underneath an extreme-high level storm, and you're losing altitude. Now that's both good and bad, as you know. You're safe enough at your altitude from the storm, so that's not a player for you, even though it's a deal-breaker for us. As you drift down you're going to come into gentler winds, but you have to pass through the Vilitas Layer." "That's going to be tricky with the tether," Farmer said. "Well, Colonel," Jack's voice took on an ironic tone. "that's not going to be a problem, because you're going to have to drop the tether within the next few minutes. You may want to look at your lowest tether-cam." Greene punched up the screens. He gasped, and whitened even more. Farmer's screen showed the bottom of the tether in the calm lower layer of Titan's atmosphere. Only a handful of kilometers below the frayed cables and bent girders lay the vast, yellow-lit expanse of Titan's ocean. Farmer whistled. "I see what you mean, Jack," he said. "I didn't realize we were dropping that fast." "Does Annie have any emergency sleds, Will?" Jack asked. "One," Farmer answered with a wry grin. "Never got around to replacing the other one." "I see," Jack said, then went silent. "What does that mean?" Greene asked when it became clear Farmer wasn't going to add anything. "It means, Ace, that once I fly Annie down through the Vilitas Layer, you'll suit up and take the sled down." "What about you?" Farmer's eyes remained locked on the controls before him. He didn't answer. "Farmer," Greene's voice had an odd, quiet tone to it, drawing Farmer's gaze, "What about you?" Farmer took a deep breath and blew it out.

Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

"I'm going to take Annie all the way down," he said. "What? Are you nuts? You can't land a kite this big! There's no way--" "I'm not going to land her," Farmer interrupted gently. "I'm going to ditch her in the ocean." "That's crazy!" Greene shouted. "Forget it! We'll lighten the sled, cut it loose at the last possible second, so we can both--" Farmer was already shaking his head. "Annie's sled is barely big enough for one, even a skinny kid like you," he said. "It's way too small for two, but it'll get you down safely enough." "But how are you going to glide two square kilometers of kite to a safe stop on the ocean? There's no way you can slow her down enough. As soon as she hits, she'll nose down and crumple against the waves. This control room'll be mangled, even before you sink!" "Maybe," Farmer said with a shrug. "Maybe not. But we have more immediate things to worry about. We have to cut the tether or it's going to drag us both down into the drink." He switched the comm back on. "You still there, Jack?" "Still with you, Colonel," Jack's voice came back. "Okay, we're about to drop a hundred seventy kilometers of very heavy tether," Farmer said. "Any land masses in our path?" "Negative, until New Vega colony, but you've got hours before that comes up and you're present course is going to take you well wide of it." "Okay, stand by." Farmer turned to his companion. "I'm going to need your help, Ace," he said. "You up to it?" Greene, color returning to his face, plastered a weak smile on his lips and said, "I have a choice?" Farmer grinned. "Good lad. Now, when I cut the tether, there's going to be two jolts. The first, small one will be the explosive bolts holding the tether. The second jolt's probably going to knock a few more generators loose, and you'd better be buckled in for that one." Green tightened his harness. "Right," Farmer went on. "I'm routing aeleron and cover control over to your panel. I'm going to count down 'three, two, one, cut'. When I say 'cut', I'm going to blow the bolts. As soon as I say 'cut', I want you to open all covers and raise all flaps one-eighty degrees. That should lessen the impact on Annie's wings. You got all that?" "'Three, two, one, cut, I raise all flaps one-eighty and open all generator covers." "You got it, Ace." Farmer's smiled. "Ready?" Greene nodded, swallowed a nothing that felt like jagged rocks, and positioned his fingers over his

Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

control panels. "Okay," Farmer said, flipping several switches. The panels in front of Greene glowed with new life. "Okay, here we go. Three. Two. One. Cut!" Simultaneously with the word, Farmer jabbed a finger hard on a switch. There was a muffled bang! and the cabin was kicked from beneath by a giant boot. Greene threw a dozen switches as fast as his fingers could hit them. A full second later, another boot a dozen times stronger than the first sent the control room jumping skyward. Watching a pair of cam screens, Farmer saw a handful of hundred-squaremeter generator housings fall from their perches in the hollow wings of the kite. They fell out of sight through the yellow clouds. Farmer's hands flew over his control panels now, sweat beading on his brow as he fought to bring the kite, now swaying from side to side as well as bucking up and down, under control. After several long minutes, Annie's nose was pointing toward the horizon and the pitching and yawing began easing off. Automatic gimbals whined as they fought to bring the control room back to level. From the corner of his hyper-focused eye, Farmer saw Greene's fingers curled around the arms of his chair, his eyes clamped shut. Farmer could feel the sweat that dampened and darkened his own worn uniform shirt, could feel the tiny rivulets that trickled out from under his cap, but he kept his hands on the controls. The set of his jaw an extension of Greene's vice-locked hands, Farmer eased air and stability back under Annie's wings. Greene, probably feeling the gradual lessening of the kite's mad dance, opened his eyes and glanced over. Even without looking at the younger man, Farmer could sense Greene's rapid appraisal of Farmer's tense, sweaty, less-than-stellar appearance. "You okay, Farmer?" Greene asked. Farmer forced himself to breathe. I've just stabilized a kite that was never meant to be free-flown, he thought, a hundred kilometers up in Titan's deadly atmosphere, without the benefit of either tail or tether, and the kid asks if I'm okay. If I was a less humble man, I'd say I've just proven that I'm a far sight better than just okay. But he said nothing. His hands slowed until they grasped a single pair of controls. Annie's dance slowed further. Farmer blew out a deep breath. "I think we're stable," he said. "Go ahead and close every alternate aeleron now, Ace." Greene complied, and the swaying slowed even more. Farmer kept one hand on the controls, but used the other to lift the cap and brush a sleeve across his forehead. It came away drenched. Replacing the cap, he switched on the comm. "You still with us, Jack?" "Still with you, Colonel. That was some flying." Farmer grinned. "Just like over Jupiter, only without the Alliance shooting at us." Jack's chuckle sounded over the speakers. "Listen, Colonel," he said, seriousness overtaking mirth. "You're going to drop below comm range soon. We'll still track you via q-wave, but until you get below the interference layers and we can relay to you through ground stations, you're going to be on your own. You have a plan?" "Sort of," Farmer answered. "As soon as we get into the calm air below the Vilitas Layer, I'm going to send Greene out in the sled. He'll be suited up, and the sled's water-tight, so he'll be bobbing in the ocean waiting for you to get down to him." He turned to the younger man beside him. "Buckle up. You're going to bounce around a bit before the sled comes to rest, but you'll be safe enough." "Don't worry, I've learned my lesson." Greene tugged his harness with a grin. Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Farmer turned back to the comm. "After he's clear, I'm going to take Annie down to the deck and get her as level as I can. Just before her wing-tips hit the drink, I'm going to pop the gondola." "You're going to what!?" Jack's voice crackled with the volume of his shout. "You heard me, Major," Farmer said. "I'm going to rig charges to the gondola's struts and blow them just before the wings go in. By the time the gondola hits the water and flips, the rest of the kite will be far enough ahead of me that I shouldn't hit it." "Will, that's insane!" Jack said. "You're going to be travelling in excess of mach one! When the kite hits the water, it's going to stop dead. You'll be smashed to pieces against it!" "Maybe, maybe not," Farmer said with a shrug, "But I don't see any other chance, do you?" The comm channel was silent for a long time before Jack's sigh crackled across it. "No, I don't." Farmer heard him take a deep breath. "Okay, Colonel. We're about to lose communications. We'll q-track the sled and get a pickup to Greene as soon as possible. Greene, best of luck to you." "Thank you, Major," Greene said. His calm tone surprised Farmer, but the veteran merely raised an eyebrow and said nothing. Light static started sounding over the comm speakers. "And, Colonel?" Jack said through it. "Yes, Jack?" "God be with you, Will." "And with you, Jack. Annie out." He killed the comm and let out a breath, then he turned to Greene. "I can't leave these controls," he said, "so you'll need to climb the struts and set charges where I tell you. Can you do that for me?" Greene answered with a determined nod. "Good lad. Pull up the exterior gondola cams and share the screens over here." Greene flipped several switches, showing the gondola's upper exterior. Four huge struts loomed upward, huge, jointless crab-legs connecting the gondola to the kite's massive wings, lost in cloud a hundred meters above. "Good," Farmer said. "Now, do you see the lowest ring of bolts on each strut?" It was actually several rings, spaced along a short section of the cylindrical strut. The individual bolts appeared tiny, but Farmer knew they were each the size of his head. It was only the massive size of the pillars--each about twenty meters in diameter--that made the bolts seem small. "I see it. That's the weak spot, right?" Greene answered. "That it is, Ace," Farmer nodded. "I want you to take four cartridges from the locker for each strut. Space them evenly around a meter below that ring of bolts, and feed the lines into the main control panel at circuit A-four. Got that?"

Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

"Yes, sir, A-four. Got it." "Good. That'll take you some time, but I think I can give us about six hours before we drop down to the Vilitas Layer. You're going to have to ride that with me in here, but once we're clear of it you hop into the sled. Understand?" "Yes, sir," Greene replied. No panic, thought Farmer with an inward smile. The lad's grown up these last few kilometers. "Good. Now you'd better get out there. Make sure all the charges are wired to blow at once." Greene nodded, then unbuckled his harness and departed through a door in the rear of the cabin. Farmer split his concentration between his controls and the external monitors. Half an hour later he saw Greene, wearing one of the kite's EVA suits and lashed to the safety lines, start up one of the struts via its service ladder. A strong rope dangled from his waist, to which he had attached four of the heavy, briefcase-sized explosive charges. Even the relatively calm winds tugged on those ropes, making Greene's climb all the more treacherous. Farmer breathed a silent prayer for his safety. Five minutes later the apprentice reached the lowest level of bolts, and worked his way across the narrow service catwalk around the pillar, attaching the charges as directed. Then, empty-handed, he picked his way back down the ladder. Farmer looked at the chrono. Forty minutes, start to finish. He nodded to himself with a satisfied grunt. Plenty of time. He watched as Greene repeated the motions on the second pillar, then the third. He moved at a slower pace now, visibly exhausted but not giving up. Farmer opened a comm channel. "How are you doing, son?" he asked. Greene's voice wheezed back. "I'm okay," he said, climbing the last pillar, "But I think one of the charges I grabbed is bad. I didn't notice it inside. Loose cap. I tried tightening it but I don't know if I got a solid connection. I figured we didn't have time to go back for another one." "That we don't," Farmer said, glancing at the chrono. Barely two hours until the Vilitas Layer. "Which charge is it?" "I tied it last on this rope," Greene replied. "I''ll attach it to the leeward side of the forward strut. Figured that's the weakest spot, so hopefully it won't matter if it doesn't blow. I'm pretty sure the other charges are all okay." "Good thinking, Ace. Get 'em set and then get back in here. We need to secure the control room before we hit the Layer." "You don't have to tell me twice," Greene's grin came through in his voice. "I'm already on my way back." Farmer chuckled and closed the comm. Greene came in an hour later, sweat-drenched and muscles quivering. He sat in his chair, fastened his harness, and slumped backward. His freight-engine breathing slowed, then slowed further until he merely huffed and puffed where he sat.

Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

"Good work, son," Farmer said. Securing the control room was a job that, fortunately, could be done from their seats. Under Farmer's direction, Greene closed circuits, engaged safeties, and shut off non-essential panels. Farmer always left one of the visible-light cams on--a superstition left over from his Starforce days. On this, he could just make out the wide stretch of Annie's port wing a hundred meters above. Normally, the thick Titan cloud cover obscured everything more than a couple of meters beyond the camera, which is why the q-wave and radio cams were necessary. Now, he watched ragged wisps fly past Annie's wings above. The cloud cover was noticeably thinning, a sign of how far they had descended. "Vilitas Layer coming up," Farmer announced. "We could hit it any time." Greene tugged his straps, an action Farmer acknowledged with a nod of approval. Then there was nothing to do but wait for the turbulent layer of sky between the fierce winds of Titan's upper atmosphere and the calmer air below--the Vilitas Layer. "Why is it called the Vilitas Layer?" Greene asked into the waiting silence. Greene's ignorance of this otherwise well-known piece of trivia didn't surprise Farmer. Nowadays the academy taught only the essentials. Take their money and get them out making more money for the corporations as quickly as possible seemed to be the policy today. "Back in the earliest days of Titan's exploration," Farmer explained, "shortly after the discovery that there was an entire zone of atmosphere between the calm lower air and the wicked winds above, there was an ore-miner named Ernesto Vilitas. He made a bet that he could build his own craft and ride the layer entirely around the moon. His body was never recovered, but the Layer has borne his name ever since." Punctuating the story, the kite began bouncing again, softly at first but rapidly becoming more pronounced, until soon it bucked and dived and slewed like an old-Earth mustang. Sparing a brief glance from his panels, Farmer glanced over to see how his companion was doing. Greene looked...well...green, but was holding on to his harness and keeping his eyes glued to his screens. Deep in the heart of the Layer, Annie juked wildly, squeaking and groaning, protesting the atmospheric abuse down to her very bones. "Easy, old girl," Farmer said quietly to the ceiling. "Not long now." His knuckles, clenched tightly around the control sticks, ached. A few long minutes later, the turbulence began to ease, calming as Annie dropped out of the dangerous zone. Relative silence followed, the calm lower-atmosphere air a marked contrast to the violent winds above. Farmer blew out a breath, and eased up on the grips again. On the wing-top displays, a vast ceiling of torn cloud rose above them. "Well, that was fun," Farmer said, shaking out his fingers. He turned to Greene. "Go on. Time to get you suited up." "How long before Annie hits?" Greene asked. Farmer scanned his altimeter and chrono displays. "'Bout an hour, I'd guess," he answered. "I'm going to take her down pretty quick from here before leveling her out. Go on, get to the sled." "I'd like to go down a bit further with you. What's the latest we can leave it, once I get the suit on?" Greene asked. Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Farmer raised an eyebrow and looked at the young man for a long, appraising moment. He nodded to himself. "Thirty minutes," he replied. "But you get that suit on now." Greene unbuckled and left the control room. Ten minutes later he returned, again wearing one of the kite's self-contained pressure suits, carrying the plex-glass helmet under one arm. He took his seat, setting the helmet on the panel before him. He didn't strap in. Aside from the suit being too bulky to fit into the torso-shaped harness system, there was now little point. Annie glided as if on a gentle breeze, even though she was gliding at speeds no wind farm had ever achieved before. For a few minutes they sat in silence, then Greene asked, "Why did you name the kite after your wife, Farmer? I've always wanted to know." Farmer didn't answer right away, but after a moment he sighed and spoke quietly. "She was...life," he said. "She lived every moment as if it that moment would never come again. A pilot, she was, when I met her. One of the best I've ever known. Used to look for any excuse to get up in the air." He chuckled. "There were times I'd have bet money she spent more of her life in the sky than on the ground." "She sounds great. What happened?" Farmer's grin faded, his voice taking on a slightly hoarse tone. "She loved the sky, but the sky didn't love her. Not long after we moved here and bought this kite, she was power-gliding over New Vega. I was working." He went silent. Greene saw the single tear escape the older man's eye and fall to the panel. "They said..." Farmer went on after a moment. "They told me she died instantly. The sky-cow she hit probably didn't even feel her, but the nose of the glider was never found and they think it's still in the whale. Her body was...completely broken...from the impact." The control room was silent for several long moments. "I'm...I'm sorry," Greene finally said. "I didn't mean...I just...I had to know." Farmer straightened, wiped an eye, and said. "It's okay, son. It's good to remember her. That's why I named the kite after her. Figured she'd always be in the sky she loved, that way." "Maybe..." Greene hesitated, watching the distant but approaching sea through the viewscreens. "Maybe...she isn't supposed to be in the sky." "I think you're right," Farmer said. "But not because she belonged on the ground." He looked up for the first time since starting his tale, and Greene was surprised to see a bright glimmer in Farmer's eyes. A glimmer not born of the tears behind them. "Not the ground," Farmer said. "And not the sky. She's gone beyond the sky, and I was foolish to think I could keep her here. She's at a place where she never has to put a foot on any surface again. I know that. That's why I'm not afraid to try to bring this kite down." He glanced at his screens. "And that's your half-hour, Ace," he said. "Get that helmet on and get into the sled. Pull the release, count three, and hit the chute. Got it?"

Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Greene stood. "Got it. And Farmer?" He held out a hand. "Thanks. For, well, everything." Farmer stood, clasped the younger man's hand, and shook it once. "You've got the makings of a good wind farmer," the veteran said. "Get yourself stationed on the New Vega kite. You and MacEntyre will get along great." Greene stepped back, saluted as crisply as Farmer had ever seen a civilian do, and slid the suit's helmet over his head. Turning, he left the control room one last time. Two minutes later, Farmer felt the soft bump that accompanied the rescue sled's release. Watching the ground-ward screens, he saw the pod fall a hundred meters before the bright red chute snapped open. In seconds, the sled fell from view behind him. "I'm sorry about Annie," Jack's voice came over the comm. "Both of them." Farmer started. He thought he'd cut the comm connection. "Sorry you had to hear that, Jack," Farmer said. "No apologies necessary, Colonel," Jack replied. "I think the kid needed to hear it. By the way, there's a trawler less than twenty kilometers from where he's going to come down. He should be on deck in about twenty minutes." "Good," Farmer said. "That's about when Annie's going in." "Speaking of," Jack said. "We've had an idea up here. It might just save your life. Might, mind you." "My life was saved forty years ago," Farmer said. "But tell me what you've got anyway." "In a word, it's ansigen," Jack said. "As in, fire supression. As soon as you blow the control room free of the kite, hit the fire alarm. That'll flood the entire room with ansigen, ceiling to floor, in about three seconds." "Ansigen hardens almost solid," Farmer returned. "I won't be able to move--" he cut himself off. Of course! "That's the idea, Colonel." He could hear the grin in Jack's voice. "That cabin's going to bounce around like a ping-pong ball in a hurricane. The only way you're not going to get smashed to a pulp is if you bounce with it." "And ansigen dissolves after about three minutes," Farmer said. "Probably just enough time for the gondola to come to a stop. Clever idea. Mad as a Tethyn ice-worm's dreams, but clever." "Thanks," Jack said, "One of my better ones. " "I'll be out of oxygen until it dissolves," Farmer noted. "So suit up first." Farmer shook his head, though the gesture was wasted on the comm system. "No good. None of the other suits is prepped. Take too long to fill the tanks, and I can't leave these controls anyway. Like it or not, I'm going to be unconscious when you finally get your tail down here to get me, no matter which way this goes."

Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

Jack was silent for a moment before saying, "Better for us, I suppose. That way we won't have to listen to you complain about how late we are." Farmer smiled, pleased that Jack had chosen not to push the issue. Even with the ansigen, they both knew his chances of coming out of this alive were pretty slim. But even a small chance at life is worth taking. "Sounds like a plan, then," Farmer said. "We've got you at about five kilometers altitude," Jack said by way of reply. "Can you confirm on your readings?" Farmer scanned the screens. "Confirmed. Bringing her out now." He eased the controls back. Ponderously, Annie began leveling until she was skimming along a mere kilometer above Titan's cold ocean. Farmer began raising flaps and control surfaces, slowing the huge kite, causing it to drift down toward the surface. He moved one hand to hover over the button that would blow the charges above the gondola. Suddenly he saw something out the front screen that stopped his heart. Land blossomed on horizon and grew--fast. "Jack, there's land in front of me!" he said into the open comm. "What is it?" Instinct kicked in before he finished speaking, and he pulled back on the sticks, fighting to bring Annie's nose up. "Checking!" Jack's tense voice told Farmer the drop-ship was as surprised as he was. How could they both misplace an entire island? "It's Cov Center island," Jack shot back. "The atmo storm must've thrown off the ground relay's gps system by four degrees. We thought you were going to pass to the south of it!" I didn't even check my own course, Farmer admonished himself. How could I be so stupid? "How many people there?" Farmer asked, concern in his voice. Please God let it be unpopulated! Jack's answer shattered his prayer. "Last census, six hundred or so." "No good," Farmer straightened in his seat. The water was half a kilometer below him now, and even though he'd been hauling back on the stick, Annie's nose still pointed below the horizon line. He knew he had no hope of turning the massive kite to one side--getting two-square kilometers of steeluminum, composites and wiring to change its course was like asking a sky-cow to veer away from an air-surfer. He had to hop Annie over the island. Still pulling back on the stick, he frantically flipped several switches, closing some of the huge wings' flaps while opening others. The island, only a handful of kilometers in front of him now, seemed to race straight at the kite. Not enough altitude! Breathing a silent, desperate prayer, he heaved on the sticks. # Dim in the perpetual twilight of Titan's mid-day, the fishing pole dipped, then dipped again. Tenyear-old Nikki flicked the pole up, setting the hook just like her big sister had taught her. The fish, Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

suddenly and securely caught, started yanking on the line. "Nat, I got one! I got one!" Her brown curls bounced over her oxy-mask as she danced in excitement. From a short way down the rocky beach, her older sister ran back to her, shouting. "Set the hook, Nik!" "I did!" Nikki said as her sister came up to her. Nat tried to take the pole from her sister's hands, but Nikki was ready for her and jerked it out of reach. "No, I got it! I'm bringing this one--" A shadow suddenly formed around them, blotting out the diffuse sunlight. Both girls looked up in time to see two square kilometers of Annie flash by two hundred meters above them. An instant later the wind chasing the huge kite bowled into them with an ear-numbing boom!, throwing them to the beach. Scrambling quickly to their feet, they were just in time to see a puff of smoke bloom atop the kite's dangling gondola, and watch as the control room dropped, slowing quickly but still traveling at supersonic speed. The kite itself sped on, putting quick distance between itself and the gondola. A mere kilometer from where the girls stood, kite and gondola struck the water at the same instant. The gondola immediately skipped back into the air. The ragged right wingtip of the kite struck the water first, stopping that side of the massive structure almost instantly, slewing the left side forward and up, rolling the kite to starboard. Just before it reached vertical, the kite snapped in two with a loud crack, right wing slapping back onto the sea, left wing flipping over its sister like a pancake on a griddle. The gondola, bounding and tumbling as it skipped across the water, claimed a hair's-width of air from the wreckage, just missing the crumbling mass of twisted metal and plastic and wiring that had been Wind Farm Annie. The girls immediately lost sight of the gondola as it bounced behind Annie's remains, which crashed hard into the water, coming to sudden, violent rest. Her final act upon hitting the surface was to send a tall wave in all directions, before she began to slowly sink into the sea, sending spouts of forced water jetting from several of her still-open generator ports. Still in shock at the sight, Nat nonetheless had the presence of mind to pull her sister up to higher ground, taking them both safely out of reach of Annie's good-bye wave before it crashed against the rocky shore. # Hovering over the still-bubbling spot where the kite had gone down an hour before, drop-ship Miyagi trained every antenna, every camera, every sensor onto the sea, sweeping vast tracts of water back and forth, and then repeating the process when each sweep failed to produce any results. But aside from the disturbed surface of the ocean, which was even now settling and resuming its normal demeanor, there was no trace of Annie, or of Farmer. Specially-triggered sensors scanned for the gondola, for radio signal, for q-wave track, for body heat, for a host of other indicators. All were silent. Off to one side, the distinctive, slightly phosphorescent sheen of dissolved ansigen fire suppressant covered a small area, but even that was dispersing. Forced into accepting the inevitable conclusion but hating it, dreading it, angered by it, former Starforce Major Jack Farmer turned away from the viewscreens. Several of the drop-ship's bridge crew looked away from him, trying not to notice as he wiped the tears from his eyes. Trying not to see that they continued to fall anyway. "Alive and aloft, Will," Jack whispered hoarsely, somehow managing to get the words out before his voice failed him altogether. "Give my best to Annie."

Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie

October 1st, 2009

The Cross and the Cosmos

Inaugural Issue

END

By God's grace, Tony Lavoie writes science fiction and fantasy. His short stories have appeared at Digital Dragon Magazine and MindFlights. You can find more information about these and Tony's other projects at http://PaperGizmo.com. He loves to talk sci-fi, so feel free to follow him on Twitter (http://twitter.com/ tonylavoie) or befriend him on FaceBook (http://facebook.com/tonylavoie). Tony isn't always comfortable referring to himself in third person like this, but sometimes the voices just can't be ignored and he must do as they say.

Windfarm Annie

Tony Lavoie