Monthly archives: September 2002


This story has been doing the rounds recently (more here). I first found reference to it in BoingBoing (here, in fact.)
Apparently – “In Millennium Challenge, you had several cases of experimentation going on at the same time you had exercises going on,” Pace explained. “For example, if what the opposition force commander wanted to do at a particular time in the experiment was going to change the experiment to the point where the data being collected was no longer going to be valid as an experiment, then he was asked not to do that.”
Of course. That explains everything.


Seeds

�It looks like a boat, of sorts, slung under a wing.� Gim reported of the dot far off to the west.

�I�ll light the signal fire.� Sheel announced. Every scrap of wood too rotten to use had been piled up ready for just this moment.

�What do we tell them? About how we got here.� Bobb asked.

�If they spot us. That we crashed, of course. Test flying a winged boat just like theirs.� Gim shifted his attention to the horizon, �I can�t be certain, but I think there�s the vaguest of smoke trails over there. They must be accompanying a ship.�

The fire was now hot enough for Sheel to drop algae crusted wet wood on it. With hisses and crackles a white smoke tower rose above the island.

�It�s coming about.�

�They�ve seen us?�

�No, I think that was a planned course change, but we�re right in front of them now.�

The flying boat stopped its previous zig-zag course and headed straight for the island. It passed overhead, low and fast, clipping the smoke tower, which curled around the memory of the wing. It made another pass, testing wind direction, before landing to the south. Gim, Bobb and Sheel jogged down to the shore to greet it.

There was a clear blister just behind the wing. It contained guns, one of which was pointed in the general direction of the islanders. A hatch opened in front of the wing and crewmen leapt out. They hitched ropes around hooks on the front and rear of the boat section and pulled it up against the shore.

Now a woman appeared in the hatch. Her uniform was finer, more formal, than the two holding the boat too. She spoke in a language the three castaways only just understood. �How you here?� was the heart of the message.

�Break plane, wash up.� Gim used hand signals to augment his stilted reply.

The officer studied the island, spotting the camp. She came to a decision. �Board now. Come.�

They were helped aboard the flying boat and pointed to seats in the rear of the hull. A crewman with a handgun watched over them. The officer went forward and the plane began taxiing across the waves. She returned with three pairs of goggles. �Wear.�

The lenses of the goggles were completely blacked out. Gim, Bobb and Sheel shared a look, but pulled the blindfolds on without further questions.


Seeds

The Lang was christened in an entirely informal ceremony involving a freshly killed river reptile and copious wine. He became Morn and the man he honoured became Old Morn.

Wild men and women performed acrobatics between branches over the waterfall and fires were floated into the lake beyond. All the while, gifts of equipment and advice were piled upon Morn. As the pile grew, Old Morn took him aside. �You have met my children?�

�You seem to have a lot of them.� Old Morn was father to all the strays that found their way this far up stream.

�The twins.� They were organising the gifts, tall, dark Plains folk. �I am a little concerned for them.�

�They seem healthy enough.�

�Physically, and in brain power, yes. But, I fear, emotionally�.. Their parents fled to the forest, seasons before the invasion. A political matter over leadership. They were tracked down, but they had hidden the children. The twins had to rely on each other for many seasons before I found them. They are close. I fear they are too close. It would not be healthy.�

�No, it would not. But what can I do about it?�

�I shall gift you my boat. It needs a crew of two, and either of them would be a fine First. I think Marra will be most interested. She is the more mature of the pair, and she is the one who goes to the high points and stares out at the Plains. Perhaps you can talk to her about it.�

�What about the boy? Will he not be upset by this development?�

�Almost as much as I. But then he will have strong claim to my place when the time comes. It will be for the best all round.�

�Very well. Make your gift known and I shall talk with her about my crewing requirements.�


So I went into town to register with a few temp agencies, breezed into the first office and did my best ‘I have no problem slumming until I get a permanent job’ speech. All quite straightforward and professional until she asks for my CV, “Of course I have one. It’s right….. No it isn’t.”

I could have sworn I packed it. Memory loss, bad sign.

Seeds

They had all seen the pictures. The flight crews that assembled in the rock hangar were not as enthusiastic as their new equipment deserved. They had each been through the stages and no longer lied to themselves that they could have made a difference by being there. Alive and angry, they were now ready to set out on a mission that would end in revenge.

Reed held them to a silence in respect of the crews and personnel who had died at their old base. Uncharacteristically, he made the sign of the Silver Tower, extending it into the circular motion above his head that signalled engines start.

They rolled out of the hangar onto the drained strip, turned right, taxied to the end and awaited their turn to take off. In the dark a parallax arrow was the only one thing to keep them pointing straight on take off. Reed throttled up, only releasing the brakes at maximum thrust. Laden with wing tanks full of fuel the powerful Killer Wasp still managed to clear the ground without the aid of the kicker ramp at the end of the runway.

Organisation was crisp, they managed to send off a plane every thirty counts. In the air they stayed low, following the moonlight on the river down the valley. Every inhabitant was out to see them off despite the late hour. Some howled or waved others stood and watched in silence, pretending stoicism despite the rousing sight. No plane climbed to cruising altitude until they were over the flood plain. With luck, the ruse would give any distant observer a false idea of where the planes were launching from.

As the Wasps and Cicciles began to form up, Jay could finally split the seal on the flight plan. Her continued silence prompted Reed to look over. �So, where are we going?�

�Nowhere.�

�What? We just turn back and�.�

�No. Not that simple. We have to fly out across the ocean.�

�Even with wing tanks we cannot make that distance.�

Jay had a hand lamp. She shone it on the expanse of blue map. A circle marked their final destination, but there was not even a dot of land within it. �Somewhere the other side of the safe return distance we will begin picking up a signal to guide us to our destination, apparently.�

Reed turned on his radio, clicking to the agreed channel. �Wasps and Cicciles. All present?�

�Three lost an engine. They are continuing to the crash strip.� Two reported. None of them could return to Dreamland for security reasons.

�All present and correct.� Reported the Ciccile wing leader.

�I suppose you have all read your maps by now. Who offended Command so much they are sending us for burial at sea?� No laughter over the airwaves. This was obviously not a night for humour. �Safe spread over the sky. You should always be able to see at least two other planes. Come about to Oh- Five- Seven and prepare for a long flight.�


Quite a productive day. I’m putting together a proposal for a Commando War Library story, so I’m doing a six page sequence for the pitch. I’ve also been doiing graphics fro the members area (coming soon) and converting Another Education & Ruby Red into Acrobat to be sold on the site. And today’s segment has inspired the ‘cover’ image for Seeds, except that I’m going to do it with Cinema 4D so I can learn how to use it.

And I got to do two missinons in GTA 3.

Seeds

There were five Corkscrews acting as escorts, their push-pull propellers working hard to keep darting ahead of the wing. All six planes were operating at a few thousand spans, practically on the ground compared to the wing�s maximum altitude. They could see farm buildings and occasional small towns, but very few military installations. So far their intelligence had been excellent, but the �screws stayed on fighter cover and thrusts ahead to strafe anything that moved funny.

Harren decided to forgo his usual mid flight tour of the craft, there just wasn�t the room for it today. Instead he turned on the remote talker, �All stations report.�

They replied in the determined order- light gunnery, heavy gunnery, bombs, engineering and navigation. �We are on schedule, and have yet to face opposition. The drop to attack altitude begins soon. Gentlemen, I look forward to fighting alongside you.�

The navigator announced, �Point Bella reached, drop to a thousand counts.� Harren pushed the stick forward. �Come right to Oh Three Four.�

The wing wasn�t as agile with a full load of weapons, but still made the turn with the minimum of fuss. They were very close to the target now, and ahead there was a military convoy heading diagonally across their path. �Fighting faces everyone. Stereo, do you want to clear the way?�

�Smite, this is Stereo One. We shall clear the leaves from the road.�

The corkscrews formed up in a V and accelerated toward the convoy. They only made one pass, leaving fires and explosions in their wake, before climbing back to air support.

�Heavy weapons, the target is in view. Time to deploy.� Harren turned on the optics and studied the airfield. There was some movement, but not the complete panic of realisation. The wing shook as the front bomb bay opened and the guns were lowered into position. The four low recoil cannons, or stonks as they were called for the noise they made, rotated about a shaft. In the lower position they fired, in the upper they reloaded. The view on the optic shifted left and right as the gunner chose likely targets. Then he started firing.

Twelve rounds were fired in as many counts and the bomb bay was closing before the third one had even hit. Harren kept the plane steady, snatching glimpses of the destruction. The blister bays on the outer edges of the wing opened, dropping rockets that ignited when they had dropped twelve spans.

A line of the twin engined planes on the runway exploded one after the other. Now there was movement, panicked running for cover, or to anti air defences. The two digit cannons in the leading edge of the wing opened up, cutting down the fleeing figures and splitting open soft skins. The rear bomb bay opened. As the wing cut low across the airfield it scattered the first load of bomblets and mines across the runway and ammunition sheds. A great explosion levelled most of the buildings on the northern side of the runway.

While the wing made a long, lazy turn to approach from the west, the Corkscrews attacked any of the anti airs they could see. A pair of tripod mounted autoguns caught one of the attackers in a cross fire, punching holes in the wing. As the Corkscrew tried to bank away, the wing collapsed around the damage and it began a slow death roll. The autogun positions were hammered by the remaining four Corkscrews.

The low recoil cannons were deployed again for the wing�s second pass, only fours shots this time. Aiming for the smoke of the shattered armoury, the second load of bomblets and mines were spread the length of the runway. There was enough loaded for a third run, but there was nothing left to destroy. The wing began ascending to cruising height. Ahead, the Corkscrews formed their flying V. The position of their fallen comrade, second from the right, was left empty.


Ooops, missed yesterday’s post, too busy cycling the byways and canal sides out to Worsley. It’s a strange place to the North of Manchester that feels like South Manchester/ Cheshire. Very posh, and I got some dirty looks when I pulled up on the green with my bike.

Seeds

As a collaborator, Aylo�s life should have been at risk every time he left his house. However, there were enough people- with enough influence, in the neighbourhood who knew the truth. He could even enter this darkest of dockers� drinkeries without fear and talk to two of the toughest gang bosses. �I think he is conflicted.�

�He is a Southerner.�

�His mother was of the city, and he grew nearly twenty seasons here. I also think he is of the type that is attracted to men, me in particular.�

�Pfah! That is the sort of arrogance that got your brother killed.�

Aylo struggled for a retort. The old man across the table put a hand on the woman�s shoulder. �I knew Aylo�s brother. He was only doing what he thought was right.�

�You were lucky he was unidentified.�

�Maybe one day he will be recognised as a hero of the resistance.�

�As will we all, hopefully. What information do you have.�

Blessed with a photographic memory, Aylo could do without carrying incriminating copies around. �They are sending two hundred troops out onto the Plains to search for the people sabotaging the railroads.�

�Who is sabotaging the railroads?�

�I think they are chasing shadows. It removes troops from the city.�

The man nodded, �Anything else?�

�Paper and a scriber.� Both appeared from the woman�s direction. Aylo drew a plan of the marshalling yards. �There was a report, about an air raid in the mountains. At a training camp for mountain troops. There have been a number of air raids in the region recently. None of them knows what it means.� He circled the most vulnerable junctions, the ones where traffic was too high.

�Neither do I. If I did know, it would be unwise to tell it to one who walks into the enemy�s offices every day.�

�You are right. Of course.� Aylo downed his ale. �I am just inquisitive. I should go.� Turning to the woman, he finally asked, �How is my nephew?�

�He misses his father.� She looked directly at Aylo to add, �And his uncle.�

�Yes. Well�� With luck, this shall be all over soon.�

I found some of my ‘missing’ CDs, appropriated into John’s CD case (who’d have thought), but still not the ones I listed- Sampled Vol 1, OPM- Menace To Sobriety.