Spinneyhead

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I spent the weekend in Cambridge, where there is a small community of former raggies, visiting folks and going to a housewarming. Debauchery (well, drunkenness) and strangeness. I haven’t been to the city for eight years, the last time being to visit That Woman. Though I now know she lives in another country, I couldn’t shake that horrible paranoid feeling at first.

It’s an incredibly busy town, I guess the narrower streets pack everyone together to give a greater density of crowd, but at least cyclists seem to get a better deal. And they had higher quality cyclists, too, all those sexy student girls on bone shakers twice their age. Nice.

Seeds–

Most of Mirl�s crew had survived. As they feared, the top gunner had taken a bullet in the first strafing run. The tailgunner had disappeared along with his gun bubble when they had hit the forest canopy.

The wing had come to rest several hundred spans above the forest floor. The crew had moved around inside with great care, until it became obvious it was wedged fast. None of them were great climbers, and there were too many broken bones to move far yet. They unstowed the survival gear and set up camp inside the plane.

It rained the first night. From the shattered top bubble, Mirl watched the broken branches and loose leaves wash away and began planning. The next morning they hammered a pool in the metal of the wing.

They dismounted the autoguns from the wing mountings, hand cranked the bomb bay doors open and pointed them downwards. They brought the bombs into the main cabin and gouged the explosives from them. The bombardier modified the fuses of tracer bullets to make bomblets- it took his mind off his shattered left leg.

Eventually someone would come looking for them. The Air Army, to rescue them, or the Hidden Army, to desecrate their bodies and strip the wing of the components. In the latter case, they were ready to fight and, in the last resort, immolate themselves and the plane through explosives planted in the last of the fuel supply.

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Quite a long chunk of Seeds tonight. I’m trying to bring some of the tales that have been running through part one to a close. Occasionally this takes a little longer.

Seeds–

Every other boat was a former battle craft. They had even come across a tracked amphibious thing that ferried people back and forth across the river. They took their cues from these craft and decorated theirs to match.

The shoreline was naked of trees, but not of industrial litter. Oil drums, both collapsible and rigid, were stacked up with old tyres, track segments and whole abandoned vehicles. The few green shoots became ever rarer as the air became more polluted. They took to covering their mouths with cloth and shielding their eyes with goggles.

�What could produce this much toxic air?� Marra wondered.

�Reff.� Dack told her, �It is a city dedicated to refining and processing the resources they strip from the plains and forests.�

The city came at them suddenly, appearing from its own haze. There were docks and warehouses and beyond them a great barrier of smokestacks and soot. They found a decrepit little jetty and landed. �I believe I have found my mission.� Morn announced as he alighted.

�Here? But there could be more deserving downstream. What about my country?� Marra asked.

�To take back your country you need more men like Dack and fewer like me. Even on your own you have the strength to do the job. It is my task to help the truly helpless.�

There was movement at the shore end of the jetty. Small figures resolved from the murk. They were all armed, some with spears taller than themselves. Two taller figures came towards the boat. As they drew nearer they were revealed as identical twins, each with the build of a wrestler. Identical but for one detail- one had a red crescent tattooed down the right side of his face, the other the left.

�Off are jetty!� proclaimed Left. For all his size he was very young, perhaps no more than a year past hairing.

�I would like to enter Reff.�

�Nothing in Reff but death.� Right announced.

�Perhaps I could help. Can I speak with your parents?�

Left laughed at that. A nasty laugh with hints of violence. �Our parents are dead.� Right announced.

�You are orphans?�

�We are all.� Left gestured at the little figures.

Right had come to a decision. �We fight. You win, you pass. You lose�..� He addressed this to Dack, then studied Marra, considering her his prize.

�Very well.� Morn stepped forward. Marra kept Dack from protesting. �You fight me. If I win, you will take me into the city. If I lose, we shall get in our boat and sail away.�

That wasn�t the prize that Left wanted, but he was ready for a fight now. Besides, he was nearly three whole spans taller than this little man and one span taller than the dark one and the woman. �Both of us.� He announced. It was supposed to unnerve his opponent, but the little man simply nodded and smiled.

Marra and Dack took steps back. They could jump into the boat and get weapons if needed. Left stepped forward, relishing the bone popping noises he would soon hear. He lunged at Morn.

And went straight over him. Morn had ducked under his attacker�s arms and dropped to the floor. He jabbed at the boy�s groin and levered him into a cartwheel by the ankle. Left landed on his face, pivoting about it onto his back.

Morn bounced back up, ready to defend against Right�s attack. This youngster was more wary than his brother. He tried jabbing punches. Morn dodged them, tapping at nerve clusters until the boy found his legs wouldn�t respond and he fell sideways.

Some of the smaller figures raised their spears. Left was forcing himself up, he waved them to stop. Morn was ready for another attack, though there would not be much to it. �No one beat me before.� Left complained, �Show me how.�

�Maybe one day. Your brother will recover in a little while. When he does, perhaps you can show me where you all live.�

Left nodded agreement. He waved the little ones to come closer. �Our tribe. You have belongings?�

Marra and Dack passed items up from the boat. Morn passed some of them back. The little ones picked up the treasure as it was piled up, ready to carry it back to their hideout.

Finally, Marra and Dack came onto the jetty to say their farewells. �It has been an honour to share time on the river with you.� Marra announced.

�And with you.� They clasped hands and bowed until their foreheads touched.

Dack and Morn bowed to each other without touching. �May we meet again.� Dack said.

�Indeed. There are great things coming. Perhaps we will be part of them.� Morn joined the tribe of juveniles and walked off into the grime.

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Heavensent is made of a material called Pykrete. The wood pulp binds the ice in such a way as to keep it from smashing. I first heard about it in this short story.

Seeds–

�We have a block of cells on this level. But mostly it is just for stores.�

�Cells?�

�Heavensent avoided the major trade routes, but still came across the occasional boat or castaway. They were questioned, then kept in their cells.�

�It would be more efficient to kill them.� Reed suggested.

�That would be against the mariners� code, apparently.� Serena shrugged, �And none of them were combatants. They will be released when the mission is over.�

�How far down are we?� Jay asked, �We must be under water by now.�

�Almost certainly. Most of Heavensent is below the waterline. Because of the way it was built, every block is different. It is hard to estimate how far down we have actually gone.� Serena�s tour had gone on for a long time. They were now beyond loosened up and into footsore. �Below here are the engine rooms and refrigeration plant. You would not be interested in those. I know I am not. Come, your quarters should be ready by now.�

�The refrigeration units keep the ice frozen?� Jay had found an exposed piece of wall and was scraping off frozen mush. �And that is all this ship is? Ice and wood pulp.�

�That is all. It is almost indestructible, unsinkable- obviously- and even without the refrigeration units it would take an age to melt.�

�You know an awful lot about the vessel.�

�I had a meal with the inventor. The other officers say he just came out of the forest one day with this plan and a manner that had everyone believing him.�

�A holy man?� Reed wished the awe in his voice hadn�t been so obvious.

�Yes. I did not believe in them either. I thought it was just a cult drawn around the occasional genius. But, no, holy men exist.�

�The Silver Tower?� asked Jay.

�He would not talk of it, but I believe the Silver Tower is real as well.�

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Seeds–

Finally, Sheel�s cleavage had distracted a rating so much he had forgotten to count the cutlery. Gim had laid an arm over the knife just casually enough that it could be considered accidental. When the door lock clicked he twirled it out and laid it in front of Sheel. �Low quality alloy, but it should do.� He signed.

�I�ll just have to avoid long range or super accurate work.� Sheel held her right arm out, twisting it to reveal a light scar running from her armpit halfway to her elbow. She presented her left index finger to the scar, and the tiny silicon blade that had protruded from under the nail split the skin. The nerves all along the scar may have been turned off, but the sensation of the skin parting still made her grimace. She picked up the knife and studied it, before handing it to Bobb. �There�s a limit, she tried to say with one hand.

Bobb wiped the food from the knife and cleaned it as best he could. Sheel slid the knife into the slit in her upper arm. If she pressed the wound together just so, it would seal up. As it was likely she�d need to repeat the process soon she didn�t bother with this, wrapping a strip of cloth around the wound and putting on a top to cover up.

Sheel blinked. Messages were being sent to her optic nerve. She saw them as letters and numbers dancing in front of her vision. �Ready now.� She signalled, �Now we just wait.�

�How many shots?� Bobb asked

�Two large, or twenty small.�

Gim rested his fingers on the door. �Activity�s increasing all the time. We should go soon.�

�Agreed.�

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Today’s Seeds–

They weren�t being closely guarded. After Leein had recounted the events in the rail yard it had been deemed too dangerous to hold them against their will. Instead, they were guests and potential allies. They accepted the situation, they were strangers in the city and did not yet know enough to comfortably make their way.

The larger man, Aurile, had picked up the language rapidly and now spoke it with the precision of a highly schooled lord. The other two weren�t learning so fast, but had their own idiosyncracies. The small man, Fynn, studied everything, seeing the smallest detail. The woman, Shara, was poised and dangerous even when, as now, she lounged in the bay window watching the city go by.

�We are explorers.� Aurile explained.

�From the South?� Gerryl had taken upon himself the task of questioning the strangers.

�No, not from the South.� Aurile smiled.

�We have heard of travellers from the Silver Tower.� Shara understood some of the sentence. She turned and gave the conversation her full attention. In all his years, Gerryl had rarely felt as nervous as when he had Shara�s attention.

�I believe it is possible we are seeking the Silver Tower. We know exactly what we are trying to find, but cannot be sure how your culture refers to it.�

�You make it sound as if we are primitives.�

�Hardly. You are no more a primitive than we are the gods a primitive would worship us as. We are somewhat nervous, however, that you may have trouble comprehending our story.�

Fynn, who had been listening intently, stood and walked to the door. He said something to Aurile. �There appears to be a commotion in the building. You are about to have a visitor.� There was the sound of feet almost running down the corridor then the door opened just as Fynn stepped aside.

�Aylo! What are you�.� Gerryl cut himself off. Aylo was a good troop and would not come to the headquarters without fair reason. The younger man slapped a piece of paper on the table and stood back. Only then did he take in the room�s other occupants. For a moment he thought Shara�s stare was something other than dangerous.

�I do not understand the language that well, but�. This is an order to liquidate a whole neighbourhood.�

�Yes, and I believe they are serious. Boran will give his life when the discover he leaked it.�

Aurile had taken the sheet and was reading it. He turned to confer with his companions.

�It seems your assessment of him was correct.� Gerryl conceded, for what little comfort that afforded Aylo.

Aurile turned back from his conference. �We would like to help you.�

�You would?�

�Yes. It is not entirely altruistic. Perhaps, if we all see this through, you can help us.�

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Yesterday’s Seeds, hot off the keyboard, so I apologise for any grammar mistakes etc.-

�Visibility is excellent. We should be able to see it soon.� Jay was brim full of excitement. She strained closer to the glazing for a better view.

There were enough ships down below, steaming in the same direction as they flew or arcing off on patrol patterns. Black dots of planes looped around something just beyond the horizon.

It resolved out of the grey haze where sea met sky. A cream coloured island high in the water with tall cliffs. Except that an island didn�t leave a wake.

A trail of disturbed water, at an angle to the prevailing direction of the waves, stretched back from the island toward them. A number of ships, made tiny by comparison, flanked the island. It was about the size of a military airfield, large enough that a skilful heavy bomber pilot could put down on it, though with a very narrow margin for error. There was a diamond pattern runway layout and block shaped buildings.

�Killer Wasp flight to Heavensent. Request permission to land.�

�Permission granted. Light wind from the North East. We have lit up runway two for you.� What they had actually done was raise flags at either end of the runway.

Reed switched channels. �Okay everyone. You can see the runway. We don�t want to disgrace ourselves do we? Land in number order.� He wanted to get down and investigate their new base. He was almost as excited as Jay.

Reed brought the Wasp down gently. The runway surface rumbled under the wheels. At the end he turned and taxied into the indicated bay. After another long haul flight they unfastened and climbed out stiffly.

There was only one person in their welcoming committee, but she looked as good as ever in a flight suit and with a recently acquired suntan. Serena saluted Reed, then broke with protocol to rush over and hug him. �I told them to recruit you! They made me wait forever.�

Reed put her down, his stiff joints weren�t ready to hold her weight. �Every step of the way here I have been waiting for you to pop up and explain it all.�

The second plane had landed and was taxiing over. Serena gestured and a second greeting party headed over. �Oh, hello.�

�Hello.�

�You must be Reed�s new bombardier.�

�Yes, I replaced you.�

Reed felt like he was entering battle. Serena broke out in a huge grin. �Excellent. I had arranged shared quarters for you, just in case. Come, a walk around will loosen you up.�

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Seeds–

Janssen was in a rage. �You sent those troops out there to sop sabotage, not to be massacred!�

�Yes sir.� Boran wondered at what point the troop train had become his idea. He had been in his office going through the list of the dead and drafting letters to families when Janssen had called for him.

�This after what happened to the wings and in the goods yard!�

�Yes sir.�

�I want you to action this immediately. I want these scum to see what happens when they try to hurt us!�

�Sir?� Boran studied the sheet Janssen was stabbing at. It was a death order, for ten times as many as had been lost in the train ambush. �I cannot do that sir. I will not be party to murder.�

�Will not? You do not have the stomach for it then? No. No, I know what it is. I have read your political file! Get out! I shall order the purge myself!�

That had probably been Janssen�s intention all along- Boran now noticed that there were multiple copies of the order on his desk. He turned and stared out of the window, trying not to look smug at his manoeuvring. Boran picked up one of the sheets and pretended to read it.

�Are you still here? Leave, I told you.� I shall deal with you later.� Boran left, the papers still in his hand.

There were no guards awaiting him in the outer office. The corridors were no more nor less busy than usual. Janssen hadn�t yet issued his internal purge yet. He must still be lining up people to take blame. Boran�s own office was the same as ever- the Army issue male typists of the pool and his own assistant outside his door.

Aylo was a native of the cities. Working as a clerk for the occupying forces, there was every chance he was pure collaborator. But if he weren�t�..

Janssen had already fabricated enough evidence to put Boran in the poisoner�s chair. If he was going to die for treason then he might as well do something treasonous. He unfolded the paper and approached Boran�s desk.

�Commander Janssen has requested some items from the commercial district. I would like you to collect them.� Boran had trouble controlling his voice. He wanted to be curt, the very model of an arrogant southerner. But the army typists knew how polite he normally was to his clerk, and would get suspicious. He slid the sheet across the desk, tapping a finger on the official stamp.

Aylo studied the list, doing well to control his emotions. �Some of these, erm. Some of these will be hard to procure.�

�Black market?�

�Possibly.�

�Just so long as you are not caught. I would not like to to explain that to him.�

�How soon does he need them?�

�A couple of days, maybe a little longer. But it would be best if you start right away.�

�Yes sir.� Aylo grabbed his rain shawl. He paused and dipped his hand into the inside pocket. �There is some paperwork for you sir.� He gathered it together. Whatever was in his hand was slipped into the top most folder.

Boran closed his office door. He ran his hands over the folders. His window overlooked the main gates. He watched as Aylo hurried through, hunched against the rain. Now that his fate was truly sealed, he opened the top folder.

Nestling inside the folder was a piece of jewellery. Hanging off a fine chain was a little silver tower, two digits long and half a digit in diameter, finely decorated with tiny runes. Boran kissed the little icon and clasped the chain around his neck.

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As promised- Seeds–

The weapon in the boxcar had been the same two digit calibre as the anti air. It had cut the seven men to shreds. Umat was studying his casualties, Lensman went to his.

Each man had identifying bracelets on each ankle and around their neck. If their body parts were too far separated it would delay their entry to the warriors� paradise. Lensman walked back along the line of fire, picking up all the pieces he could find, including any blood soaked earth. When he was happy with this he took all the ID tags and pocketed them. Mov and Rey joined him to dig the graves.

They didn�t say any prayers, the dead would have their fill of their chosen religion on the other side. Umat joined them at the grave side. His comrades had been placed atop an impromptu pyre which had yet to be lit. �It is a great victory, even with these losses.� He announced through Rey.

�Where will you go now?� Lensman asked.

�Perhaps we will vanish. More likely we will fight. Come, see what my men have found.�

There were two small vehicles in the last boxcar. Each had six large and wide deep treaded tyres, each on its own independently sprung swing arm. There were seats for a driver and commander and a cupola turret- all armoured. The turret held two of the two digit anti-airs. �We have seen these many times. They are called scuttlers. You have no need for them? You are going back to the mountains?�

�No, we have no use for them.�

�Then we shall take them. With these we can strike fast at smaller patrols and escape.� It was a risky proposition, but the joy of his freedom was letting Umat see beyond the danger.

�My best wishes to you.� They made the traders� seal, each grasping the other�s elbow, locking forearms and leaving their ribcages open to the knife they trusted wasn�t there. �Now we should strip what we can from this thing, fire it and leave.�

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Working in an office, even one with nice people and interesting tasks, just reinforces my desire to be self employed and work from home.
Seeds–

The first explosion shattered the wood, bent the tracks and rocked the flatbed. The secondary blast, as the gas canisters went up, lifted the flatbed and threw some of the anti air crew off. The metal wheels dug into the soft plains earth and it began skewing off at an angle.
The locomotive followed the flatbed until the coupling broke and the rail car flipped over. The engine rolled over the flatbed, crashed off at its own angle and gouged a path through the seed grass. Prisoners and Lensman�s men scattered as it headed for them.
Emergency brakes were screaming on in the remaining carriages, but couldn�t stop the first three cars derailing. The stonks laid shots into these upturned boxes, turning the dark wood panelling into shrapnel.
One by one the autogunners dropped as Kess did his job. One of them ducked low behind the cover of his nest and kept firing wildly. Kess transferred his attention to the anti air at the rear of the train.
The bomb lobbers arced their first shots over the train and onto the track beyond. The crew dialled in some adjustments and landed their second salvo dead on the anti air, completing Kess� task.
Former prisoners and Lensman�s squad had risen from the seed grass and were concentrating fire on the upright passenger carriage. They charged toward it, over confident.
Lensman could see the tactical mistake, and had his fears confirmed when a series of small explosions shook the rear boxcar. The carriage walls disappeared as a large calibre gun fired from inside. Five prisoners and two of Lensman�s men fell. The rest dived for cover and began returning fire.
The bomb lobber crew dialled in another correction and fired. The boxcar exploded.
Out of ammunition, the last autogunner moved to reload. Kess put a bullet into the narrow gap between the rim of his helmet and the top of the sandbag barrier.
There was a lull. Everyone moved more carefully toward the last boxcar and carriage. Lensman trotted up the track and joined Mov and Rey in checking the wrecked locomotive and carriages for survivors. There were none. The sound of smashing glass and gunfire heraldd the last stand of the soldiers in the upright carriage.

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A friend forwarded this to me yesterday. It’s depressing that she knows I need a visit from the Hot Sex fairy, and even more depressing that I’m too lazy to forward it to ten people. I’m hoping that posting it here will qualify me for a visit from at least the Hot Cuddle fairy-

> …..don’t normally follow the send this to 10 people lark…but the thought of never having good sex again brought me out in a cold sweat! and besides a visit from the hot sex fairy wouldn’t go amiss

>

> >1. Sex is a beauty treatment. Scientific tests find that when women make love they produce amounts of the hormone estrogen, which makes hair shine and skin smooth.

> >

> >2. Gentle, relaxed lovemaking reduces your chances of suffering dermatitis, skin rashes and blemishes. The sweat produced cleanses the pores and makes your skin glow.

> >

> >3. Lovemaking can burn up those calories you piled on during that romantic dinner.

> >

> >4. Sex is one of the safest sports you can take up. It stretches and tones up just about every muscle in the body. It’s more enjoyable than swimming 20 laps, and you don’t need special sneakers!

> >

> >5. Sex is an instant cure for mild depression. It releases endorphins into the bloodstream, producing a sense of euphoria and leaving you with a feeling of well-being.

> >

> >6. The more sex you have, the more you will be offered. The sexually active body gives off greater quantities of chemicals called pheromones. These subtle sex perfumes drive the opposite sex crazy!

> >

> >7. Sex is the safest tranquilizer in the world. IT IS 10 TIMES MORE EFFECTIVE THAN VALIUM.

> >

> >8. Kissing each day will keep the dentist away. Kissing encourages saliva to wash food from the teeth and lowers the level of the acid that causes decay, preventing plaque build-up.

> >

> >9. Sex actually relieves headaches. A lovemaking session can release the tension that restricts blood vessels in the brain.

> >

> >10. A lot of lovemaking can unblock a stuffy nose. Sex is a natural antihistamine. It can help combat asthma and hay fever.

> >

> >This message has been sent to you for good luck in sex. The original is in a room in Palaiseau. It has been sent around the world nine times. Now sex has been sent to you. The “Hot Sex Fairy” will visit you within four days of receiving this message, provided you, in turn, send it on. If you don’t, then you will never receive good sex again for the rest of your life. You will eventually become celibate, and your genitals will rot and fall off.

> >

> >This is no joke! Send copies to people you think need sex (who doesn’t?). Don’t send money, as the fate of your genitals has no price.

> >

> >Do not keep this message. This message must leave your e-mail in 96 hours. Please send ten copies and see what happens in four days. Since the copy must tour the world, you must send it. This is true, even if you are not superstitious. GOOD SEX, but please remember: 10 copies of this message must leave your e-mail in 96 hours or you will not have good sex again for the rest of your life!!!!

Quite enough of that. Seeds–

There were welding kits in the boxcar. They pulled the pins from a length of rail a thousand spans from the siding and severed it. They also found a section further away where the level was maintained by wooden supports over a shallow dip. The half full cylinders were packed in this with explosives.

One autogun stayed atop the boxcar. The other was taken into the seed grass. Kess found a ridge and set up with his baby long rifle and a pair of field glasses. The shadows were beginning to stretch when he gestured the sighting of smoke down the track.

Lensman did a last survey of his men. They were arrayed in the seed grass with a number of the prisoners. Some of the track gang were still working, to fool spotters on the train. The stonks were hidden in the shadow of the boxcar and the bomb lobbers were behind it, aimed at the track beyond the explosives.

Lensman joined his man with the detonator. The key was turned and the explosives were primed. As the train appeared, Lensman studied it through field glasses. In front of the locomotive was a flat bed with an anti air mounted on it. With no threat from above, it had been traversed down for ground targets. Behind the locomotive were four passenger carriages, two boxcars with autogunners on top and another flatbed with an anti air.

�We take out the flatbed first. It will mean firing the explosives before the train reaches the loose section, but such is fate.� Lensman announced.

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You have to love a temp job where you turn up and the first thing they do is make sure you’ve got internet access. It’s all for work, of course, and doesn’t count when the connection’s been so crap for the last two days. I’m working at Wythenshawe hospital, a sprawling complex with institutional red brick building hived around by clunky functional concrete and shiny new steel and glass buildings. I’m getting way below my last rate, but it’s work.

The journey in in the morning involves a bus change at Wythenshawe bus terminus. It’s been six years since I was last in Wythenshawe and, if anything, the place has deteriorated in the mean time. The ‘town’ was originally conceived as a Garden City, a quaint thirties idea involving slapping a chunk of suburb into the countryside where there would be enough space for healthy open air-ness. Bad planning and the war meant that no real amenities were provided until the sixties when a dire shopping centre was poured into the town. Now, bits of the area look like warzones. It reminds me a little of Hulme in the early nineties, so there might be hope for regeneration.

Anyway, enough of that. Seeds–

�One of the prisoners heard a guard mention a troop train?�

�When?�

Rey translated the question into Overall for Umat.

�Before sundown. That is all he knows. They would head for the siding south of here to let it pass.�

�We should move out.� Move suggested.

�We should. But��� Lensman surveyed the flat, featureless landscape. �If they decide to dismount and follow us, how far would we get before they caught us?�

�An ambush?�

Lensman turned back to Umat. �We have spare weaponry, and what came from the guards. How many of your men will fight.�

The question was only half translated when Umat answered, �All!�

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Seeds–

Save for the arrhythmic clanging of hammers on metal spikes, the railroad crew worked in silence. They didn�t sing as they worked. A propaganda film crew had shot some footage of them once, but the musical number had been performed by traitors dressed up for the day. Now the Southern cities knew just how happy and well fed were the prisoners of war who toiled in the sun of the conquered plains.

Umat paused for a moment, closed his eyes and relished the shade of the boxcar. The guard would be along soon to prod him with the rifle barrel and insult him. It didn�t matter, he could feel the rain on his face. It fell in big warm drops. He smeared the liquid over his brow, then opened his eyes and stared at his fingers. They were red.

On the boxcar roof, both autogunners were slumped over their weapons, ragged exit wounds in their uniforms. There was a commotion on the other side of the railroad truck, the sound of gunfire. The guard who had escorted Umat back from the work detail was confused, looking around for someone to give him an order and stumbling closer to his prisoner.

Umat had been sent for more spikes to drive into the railroad sleepers. There was a bucket full of them in front of him. He dipped down, grabbed one and whirled on the guard. The spike buried deep in the Southerner�s chest. Umat watched the surprised expression with satisfaction before letting the soldier collapse.

An armed man, in a uniform Umat didn�t recognise, rounded the boxcar. Another came round the steam engine at the front of the service train. Umat raised his hands to show that he was unarmed and chained. The soldiers advanced on him. The one who had come around the boxcar lowered his gun and dug a small book out of a pocket. �We are here to free you.� He pronounced slowly.

�My thanks.�

The soldier flipped back a few pages, read something and smiled. �I speak Overall.� Umat announced. The soldier nodded, he understood the traders� language. �Do you?�

�Not with brilliance. But enough.�

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Seeds–

One of the monoplanes had buzzed upstream earlier, low and full throttle. They had a long time to ponder the meaning of its transit whilst waiting for the next plane.

The big biplane sailed upriver at a much more leisurely pace. It couldn�t really travel any other way. Again the crew waved to the occupants of the small paddle boat as they passed.

�Do you think the other two are coming?� Marra asked.

�No.� Dack looked downstream. There was just the hint of smoke blowing into the gorge. �It will be dark soon.�

Marra piloted the boat through the rest of the minefield. When they were certain they had cleared it, Morn took a lighter from his pile of gifts and set fire to the map. He flapped it so the ashes were dispersed.

The smoke was thicker now. The sun disappeared behind hills and it was dark enough to move. Morn and Dack had oars at each side of the boat and Marra another at the rear. They let the current drive them, intervening with the oars if necessary.

They emerged from the gorge into a valley lit by fires. Ahead on the eastern bank the forest burned uncontrolled whilst figures rushed around the fires on the western bank. The corrals of logs had been smashed by some impact and fragments of wood were being caught by the current and drawn downstream.

The boat navigated into the stream of flotsam. No-one on shore was paying the river the slightest attention, so they rested at their posts and viewed the devastation as it passed them by.

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Today saw the first frost of the year, it’s gone from Indian Summer to early winter in the space of a week.

Seeds-

�Three�s gone.� The tailgunner announced.

The pride of the Air Army had been torn apart by obsolete planes. Even with the element of surprise, they shouldn�t have been able to inflict so much damage. Mirl throttled up, he was going to survive this encounter and return to flatten the forest and destroy all the hidden bases. He just had to turn the wing around and head back, the damage wasn�t that extensive.

There was a shape below, on the water or just above, a crude cross decorated in yellows and greens with creatures dancing across its wings. A broken yellow line rose from the front of the cross, then another two from the middle. �Oh no.�

Each hit drew a hollow clang, like hailstones hitting a ferrous roof. Isolated thuds became a drumbeat counter-pointed by shrieks and whistles of broken pressure lines. The oil pressure gauge for engine two dropped to zero. Mirl pulled back the throttle and shut the engine down. �Two is on fire!� his co-pilot announced, flicking the switch for the extinguishers.

They could still make it on five engines. �Someone get a shot at that thing!� Mirl shouted into the remote caller. The oil pressure on engine four began to drop. Mirl cut the fuel supply. There was no response to his order.

The bullets stopped coming, but it was far beyond too late. There was smoke in the cabin and the caller system didn�t work any more. There was still enough of the control system connected for Mirl and his co-pilot to fight with and keep the plane in the air. They were turning, but far too slowly. Every count took them further and further away from their base. If they crashed into the forest they might survive, but that would leave them to dodge the Hidden Army.

The treetops were drawing closer. The ground wasn�t rising, so they must be falling. It was so hard to get any sensation of their general direction over the shaking and churning of the damaged plane. If the wing went into the branches nose down it would cartwheel and break up. Mirl pulled back on the stick and powered down the engines and the plane sank into the green canopy.

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Seeds–

The shockwave sank one of the log tugs and disintegrated the small biplane that had been closing on wing three. It bowled over the spectators who had lined the bank and shook the wooden buildings. A tear drop of burning fuel spread over the water and into the forest.

Upstream, the large biplane was unaffected. Skimming low over the water it was rapidly closing to a range where the autoguns on board could be used. One by one they opened fire on the remaining wing, tracers arcing through the air and cutting through the big, slow plane.

One of the wing�s engines caught fire. It stopped turning and the flames were extinguished. Another engine began pouring out black smoke. A mist of fluid was coming from the bottom of the plane. It tried to climb, but was having obvious problems.

One by one, the biplane�s guns stopped firing as the wing disappeared from their view. Even wounded, the wing could fly faster than the biplane, so they didn�t try to follow it and turned their attentions to the logging camp on the river shore. They eagerly poured fire into buildings and strafed fleeing loggers. They had waited many seasons for the opportunity to fight back and would be ashamed if they returned with any ammunition left.

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Seeds–

Mirl was managing to climb, but not fast enough. The Mima passed under the wing, circled and lined up for another attack. But the attack never came, with jammed guns or out of ammo it turned away again.

Despite the head on attack, no shells had entered the cockpit. Various gauges, however, were suggesting damage to critical systems in the rest of the plane. �All positions report. Usual order.�

�Navigation. No damage.�

�Comms. No obvious damage. Wing two is not responding.�

�Weapons. The hydraulic system for the bomb bays has been damaged.�

There was a pause, an empty space where the next report should have been. �Top gunner? Report.� Mirl signalled. �Someone check on him. Tail gunner?�

�Sir?�

�Do you have anything to report?�

�Sir. Wing two has hit the water. Wing three�.. Wing three is on fire. There is a biplane closing on it. My cannon cannot traverse far enough to�..�

The inside of the cockpit lit up. They felt the shockwave from the explosion rather than hearing it.

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Seeds–

Tem had chosen to go high. Now, as his wingman bore down on the lead wing, he was lining up for the best pass on the other two bombers. He let off a short burst at the second bomber, tracer passing slightly ahead of the target.

The wing�s pilot over reacted, pulling the plane into a steep bank, losing what little altitude he had and digging a wingtip into the river. The nose jerked down and smashed into the water and the plane began to cartwheel and disintegrate. Distracted by this, Tem overshot the third wing without firing at it. He banked and came around as tightly as possible for an attack from the rear.

Tem closed until he could make out the rear gunner struggling with his weapon, trying to prime it and bring it to bear. The Mima had a one and a half digit cannon slung in a pod under its centre line. Tem placed the gunsight above the gunner and released a burst from the cannon.

The cupola, gunner and weapon disappeared in a series of small explosions. Tem was congratulating himself when the top turret opened up and stitched a series of holes across the wing and into the fuselage just behind him. Tem fired all the planes guns, at this range few of the shells missed, as the top turret fired again. He didn�t feel the bullets that hit him, and thought only of the glory of his death as the fuel tank was ruptured and Betra turned into a fireball.

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Just thought I’d try laying out the pic of the day thumbnails a little differently.

Seeds–

�Let�s keep this really tight and give them a show.� Mirl transmitted to the other two wings. They tried to put a little variation into each day�s fly past, for themselves and their spectators on the ground.

A few more runs and the flight would be at air show standards. They flew parallel to the water front in a staggered line, as slowly as they could manage so the demonstration of power lasted longer.

�What is that?� Mirl�s co-pilot mused. �I see movement.�

�Where?�

Mirl couldn�t make it out at first. Upriver, but approaching fast, two shapes were flying low over the water. He looked away, flicking the switch for the viewer, and one of them had gone when he looked back. The remaining plane was close enough to identify now. �That�s a Mima. I haven�t seen one since�..�

He had been too complacent. The last thing Mirl had expected was to be attacked on this routine bombing run. He knew it was too late when he shouted into the caller, �Break! Break! We are under attack!�

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Seeds–

The angry buzz of pistons pumping at high speed surrounded them. The gorge was three hundred spans wide at river level, growing to five hundred at the top of the thousand span walls. The forest closed over the top as a roof, reflecting and amplifying the sounds. �We set off early to avoid the bombing raid.� Marra�s tone was more annoyed than worried.

�The bombers would never be so low.� Dack commented, �And the noise is coming from that direction.� He pointed back toward the Big Lazy.

Marra put the paddle into reverse, holding their position against the current. They had been picking their way through the minefields, following a map they had promised to burn, when the noise had started.

The noise didn�t get much louder, but changed in character as the planes appeared from upstream. There were two monoplanes and two biplanes. The monoplanes were sleek single engined machines, their flaps lowered to keep from stalling at the low speed of the biplanes. One of the biplanes was a cut down bomber, refitted with gun cupolas on every viable surface. None of them carried a nation�s markings, instead they were decorated with wild colour schemes and stylised woodland demons.

Some of the gunners on the big biplane waved and saluted as they passed overhead. Marra and Morn returned the gestures. Dack made the sign of the Silver Tower and bowed his head in a quick prayer. �I think,� he announced, �that we may be in danger if we follow them out of the mouth of the gorge.�

�We have nowhere else to go.� Marra pointed out.

�Then we shall just sneak out when it is dark. I guess.�