Spinneyhead


The dog has pink feet. This is what happens when you take her for a walk around the back of Cogra Moss where there are still spoil heaps from the iron ore mines. But she’s happy, and is currently snoozing at my feet. Of course, in an hour or so, she’ll want to do the whole walk again….

Another biggish chunk of Seeds. I’m thinking of doing a few pictures based upon the ‘Battle of the Big Lazy’, but I’ll have to slot them in amongst all the other things I’ve got to do-

They had been hand cranking the motors every day, turning them over to keep the internals coated in oil. It would have been better to fire up the engines for a few hundred spans each day, but fuel was too precious. They had managed to brew up a sort of moonshine that worked well enough in marine engines, but aeroplanes were much more temperamental beasts.

From all the debris scattered around after the Battle of Big Lazy, they had been able to patch together a flight of six planes. Tem had crash landed his Mima fighter on a spit of land and run like a mad thing for the old growth trees on the bank. He had been reunited with the engine in the airframe of Betra, the plane he had named for his wife. It was almost a Mima, albeit one stripped to the minimum. It was not a weapon to be used lightly. The wheeled carriage it sat upon would drop away on take off and it could not be landed without incurring great damage. But today was the day it would see action again.

The old growth trees in this part of the forest around Big Lazy were thousands of seasons old, and hundreds of spans around. Hangars had been carved out of the tree trunks and runways built on stilts out toward the great lake. Whether the planes gained air speed or not, they would drop off the end of the ramp a few hundred spans above the water and have to fly or splash. Tem calculated ways to hit the right speed, adjusted his goggles and made to pull the canopy closed. When his hand grasped at air he remembered they had not been able to recover any of the formed plastic glass.

Word came down through the wires for the spotters hundreds of spans above. The big silver bombers were back and, as on previous runs, seemed ready to dip low over the forest workings before releasing any ordinance.

In its prime, the Mima had possessed an auto starter, but this reconstituted version had to be manually turned over. After three goes, the engine turned over. In the hollow of the tree it was too loud to think. Tem eased the throttle up until he could feel the plane tugging at the wire that restrained it. He gave a signal and the wire was released.

The plane jumped forward, slowed a little, then started accelerating. Tem hadn�t expected the surface to be so rough, or for it to be so frightening that the trees rushed past so fast on either side. He felt the lightness as the wings started to lift, but pushed forward on the stick to keep the plane down as it gained more speed. He pulled back again as the gap above the lake filled all his vision.

For a moment, the plane faltered. It hung in the air, halfway between flying and falling. The throttles were pressed to the maximum, and the propeller�s pull soon became enough to lift the plane. He banked to the left, South.

Other planes had launched at the same time. Four of them had reached the end of their ramps, the last hadn�t started or had crashed off its runners he guessed. One of the biplanes had crashed straight down to the water. It was made mostly of wood, but the weight of the engine was slowly pulling it under. The pilot released his straps and pushed away for the shore.

So four of what might have been the Hidden Army�s only six aeroplanes headed down the Big Lazy toward the narrow valley at its southern end. They hung back to the speed of the slower biplane. If their calculations were correct, this would bring them out over the logging camp just as the silver wings did their fly past. The lumbering bombers would be at their most vulnerable then and could probably be shot down. If they were wrong….. If they were wrong, the loss to the Hidden Army would be huge.


This weekend I are bin mostly eatin’…… Cumberland Sausage. Because I bough about five pounds of it and didn’t bother freezing any. It would take another ten pounds before I got sick of it.
I’m having issues with my parents’ PC. What’s really frustrating is that some of the problems are the same as I encountered back when I was using Windows 98, but I’ve forgotten what I did to solve them. I can’t get disk defragmenter to work, because something else keeps accessing the drive and sending it back to the start. Actually, I think I only solved that one by using Norton Utilities. Sigh.
Seeds

Morn asked Marra about the jewellery. She simply nodded in the direction of the returned XO and said, �Because he recognises it.�
The XO made his way over slowly. �The captain apologises, but he cannot be here to talk with you. He is very busy.�
Morn motioned to a seat by Marra. The XO looked ready to panic, but with no other options, he had to take it. Marra hid her smile. �The captain is busy.� the XO repeated to fill the silence, �He is always busy nowadays. I suspect he is planning something.�
Morn nodded. Marra tried to get the XO to look her in the eyes. �We have radio aerials strung up in the trees. They can bounce short-wave signals off the upper atmosphere and we can pick them up. We still have an old clockwork coder, and I do not think the Southerners have cracked that yet. Besides which, I think all the instructions are cryptic anyhow.�
�What is your name?� Marra asked gently.
�Dack, your maj…..�
Morn extrapolated the cut off word. He glanced at Marra, who nodded ever so slightly. �Dack. I believe we share the same nation. The last I heard, our homeland was not sending its young men to fight for the North or the South.�
�You have not been there since you were a child. The families do not rule any more. You were exiled for very little gain. The army took control when it was obvious they were due to be rolled over by the South and opened the capital to them. Those of us still loyal to heredity left the country and took up with any armed force opposing the South.�
�Would you consider returning?�
�If you commanded me to.�
�I am the deposed queen of a conquered land. I am hardly in a position to order anything of you. I have also promised Morn I shall accompany him on his quest.�
�Perhaps I could also help. If my services are no longer required here. Would you accept another companion?�
�Gladly.� Morn smiled. �We should be leaving in the morning.�
�Then I had best consult with my captain.� Dack stood and left.


I’ll sort out the picture of the day just as soon as I get some shareware FTP program to upload the files.
Out searching for the kennels so I could rescue my parents’ dog (currently lying at my feet a very happy little spaniel) I happened across a beagle hunt trying to root out hares. I took a few photos, but they were probably out of focus. My opinion keeps changing on hunting itself- right now I figure it’s as efficient a form of pest control as any other- but I got the impression that the hunt ban proposal is actually helping the rural way of life. People have a common cause now, and I’m sure it’s bringing them together. I don’t remember beagle hunts happening before I moved to Manchester.
Seeds

The storm rocked the ship. It was an unsettling motion, but Jay was happier now her view was foreshortened by waves and spray. Holding tightly to the handrail, she followed Reed to the maps rooms.
Browdy was waiting for them. Salutes were exchanged and he led them from the outer, distribution, room to the inner, intelligence, room. Centrepiece of this room was a large table holding a map. �The world.� Browdy announced, redundantly.
Unlike all previous maps Reed had seen, the main landmass was not the centre of attention. Indeed, the great continent was split, its eastern half at one end of the table and the western at the other. Quite logically, this map concentrated on the ocean they were surrounded by. Jay looked at the great expanse of blue and felt her agoraphobia return.
A flag with a red X on it marked the position of Half Time base, about a third of the way across the ocean. There were other markers. Jay traced westward from the island and soon spotted the four orange headed pins that showed the direction beacons they had followed in. Tracking east she followed the coloured trail to another flag, this time with a blue cross. Unlike Half Time, this flag was moving, a track of pin prick holes traced its course. Other pins, and clusters of pins, described an arrowhead toward the blue cross.
�The storm should clear by tomorrow.� Browdy announced, �And there will be another flight arriving the day after. So it is time to show you the next leg of your journey.�
�I have heard of boats having flat decks fitted and becoming floating runways.� Jay waved at the blue flag.
Browdy nodded and smiled. �This is a more than that. A considerable amount more. Let me show you the model.� There was another large table in the far corner of the room. Lined up on one side were pewter cast model aeroplanes, tiny but still identifiable by make. They were grouped by flights and squadrons, a tally of the logistics involved. A few were parked on the model, to give a reference for size. �It is unlikely you have ever seen or heard of this.� Browdy chuckled.
�No.� Jay admitted quietly. �How soon can we get there?�


A quick post. I’m off to Cumbria, to enjoy the mountains and get loads of pictures for the site, so postings may get a little sporadic for the next week or so.

Seeds

The narrow bridge was a bottleneck, and there was always traffic across it. The ravine below provided enough rocks for cover that the squad could, one by one, sneak through. Lensman watched his men flitting from one spot to another. It took great concentration and was only possible because he knew what they were doing. Across from him, Kess had his baby long rifle at the ready and Mov was ready to deploy a stonk. If they were spotted, they would blow the bridge and withdraw into the mountains.

As each man came through, they took up a defensive position. They were spreading out further and further downstream. The last man came through. Lensman followed him. Mov came on a few dozen counts later and Kess after the same delay again.

The river fed into a wider, gentler flow which they would have to ford. Beyond that, the ground was flat- by the standards of a mountain man- and the cover less obvious. They went downstream, away from the road, until they found a crossing of rocks deliberately placed in the river.

Lensman stole a glance at Mov. The veteran appeared worried, unsure of himself outside his natural habitat. As squad leader, Lensman could not acknowledge that he felt the same fear. He had to keep up the confident fa�ade as they headed into this alien landscape. Kess scanned the far bank, nodding when he saw nothing of danger. Lensman sprinted across the rocks, slipping on ones mid stream but staying upright, and dived into a covering position on the far shore.




I’ve almost beaten the block, but I’m still putting off stuff I really should do. Must complete my tax return.

Seeds

They knew many languages, and had the skills to learn new ones rapidly. The one they used now involved hand signals. �The walls are very strange.� He signed, �I haven�t found evidence of any microphones yet, but we have to be careful.�

�How strange?� signed Bobb.

�Cold and clammy, even through the wood cladding. And there are bits that are colder than others, like they were being deliberately cooled.�

�We need to get out of here,� Sheel asserted, �before they check our story.�

�I can trace our steps back to where the flying boat landed. But I don�t know what would be there.�

�We need to get our hands on some metal to work with.� Bobb pointed out. The only time they saw metal was the cutlery at meal times, and they were watched as they ate by a rating who tried to stare at Sheel�s breasts.

�I wonder how the others are getting on.� Gim pondered.

�If they�re not dead.� Bobb replied lazily.


Click on image for full picture

Click on image for full picture

Long, long ago (well, last year), in a galaxy far, far away (Surrey) I had a favourite radio station. XFM plays the sort of stuff I want to hear, all day, with no pandering to any chart or playlist. And now I can get it streamed over ADSL.

In preparation for the return of Coupling, I’ve been watching the first series on DVD. This is definitely the best British sitcom in years. There’s an insane genius to League of Gentlemen, but it hardly fits the criteria, and I never really watched The Office, I want my sitcoms to make me laugh, not squirm.

Seeds

The evening breeze brought charred leaves and the smell of burnt wood. And a flotilla of small boats with deadly cargoes.

Morn watched as each canoe edged toward the bulge of a turtled hull downstream. The hole that had sunk the boat in the first place served as an entrance. One by one the canoes entered, departing without their loads. �Near one in every four bombs they drop through the canopy is arrested and does not explode.� explained the XO (he had refused to give his name). �We recover them and reuse them. Some become mines in the river, it discourages patrols.�

�Do they ever bomb this ship?�

�We have them bluffed into thinking we are hiding in the forest, burning camp fires and attacking patrols. Who would hide in so visible a place as this? Particularly one that is already so damaged.�

The operations room was deep inside the ship, lit by candles and with charcoal burning stoves cooking up a stew. The stoves vented into dead spaces in the hull to hide any smoke.

Marra had returned to the boat for the charts and was now comparing intelligence with a one armed, eye patched officer. She looked around and nodded recognition as Morn and the XO entered. There was a piece of jewellery through her right eye brow, a crescent shape suggesting a third eye. The XO stared, then turned and left. Marra shook her head and motioned for Morn to join her at the table.


This isn’t the Seeds segment I couldn’t finish yesterday. I realised this one fits better with the order and pace of the story. However, Chapter Five is causing me some problems, so expect quite a few changes between the daily posts and the full chapter when it goes up.

Reed hadn�t complained when jay wanted to spend the first day in their cabin. After three days, he was beginning to worry. He opened the door and stared out. �I think I can understand.�

Jay was sulking on the bed. �I feel so stupid. How can I call myself a warrior when I�m scared of�. Of�.�

�Nothing.� The view played tricks on Reed�s senses. The island was on the other side of the boat. When he looked straight ahead there was nothing to be seen but blue grey haze, graduating to a paler blue in the sky. The horizon was so invisible in this haze. Staring at it too long confused Reed�s perception of up and down. He shook his head and jerked it around to get a view of the ship. With a point of reference he felt so much better. He motioned for Jay to join him.

�They cannot expect us to fight over this stuff. One or two sharp turns and we�ll lose all sense of what is up and what down. It is so different in the mountains.� Jay pulled on a smock and slowly crossed the room. Reed put his arms around her and they stared out together.


Updates- Seeds Chapter 4 is up. The chapters can be considered second drafts, with the daily serial bits as first draft. When it’s all wrapped up, I’ll rip through it and do third, fourth and fifth drafts to come up with, hopefully, the final version.

I’ve joined Blogsnob, a link exchange system. Check down the left hand side to see who I’m pointing at today.


Seeds (finally)-

They followed the river as it meandered across the Plain. The dots of trees became clusters became copses became a forest. A nasty brown scar marked the massive logging camp. Their orders were quite clear. �Wing One to flight. We have to put on our show. Descend to three thousand spans and make a pass up the river. Then break west and climb to thirty thousand before heading to the target.� Mirl announced.

�Copy.�

�Copy.�

The river was black and brown with logs grouped together to float downstream. Stick figures hopped from one precarious perch to the next and tugs pushed and pulled the islands of wood. People started looking up as they heard the wings approaching. By the time they passed over the main sawmill, a crowd had gathered to wave jubilantly. They made their one pass, then banked west to begin a corkscrew climb to height.

The navigator presented Mirl with a best guess line for the river between its disappearance under tree cover and reappearance at the Big Lazy. They marked up three bombing runs that would straddle the water and level trees and structures on the shore. �If they really wanted us to do it properly, they would give us incendiaries.� The navigator opined.

�The object is spoiled if we burn down the forest to protect the loggers. Pass these lines to the others.�

From above, it was a very unspectacular run. They passed diagonally across the supposed track of the river, dropping sticks of bombs at count intervals. The forest canopy shook with the explosions below, and one bomb hit a large enough branch to detonate far above the ground. Some trees tumbled, but the holes they left revealed nothing. They turned and headed back to base. �Same again tomorrow.� Mirl sighed.




Noon updates aren’t about to become the norm, but as I’m going up to Cumbria this evening, it seems the sensible thing to do.

Seeds

Old Morn�s boat had been fossil fuelled when it came up river. A country away from the nearest refinery that motor was now useless as anything but a source of ferrous for smelting. A paddle wheel had been forced onto the back of the boat, driven by a low-pressure steam engine. It was like sharing the river with someone breathing regularly and deeply through their teeth and swinging a hand through the water.

Marra had guided the boat from the lake below the waterfall and through memorised channels until a second tributary joined the river and it became too wide for branches to span. Only when she was sure there were no underwater obstacles would she give Morn his first lesson in steering.

They threw a sky anchor into the canopy until it caught a sturdy enough branch. The boat swung into the current as the rope tautened, coming to rest mid stream. Marra shimmed up the rope and fastened the dead anchor far enough ahead to deflect all but the largest debris. She continued into the canopy and threw nuts and fruit down for Morn to catch.

Apart from terse instructions during Morn�s lesson, Marra had not spoken all day. He hoped she would break her silence over their meal, but was to be disappointed. She filleted fish quickly and expertly and laid them inside a specially constructed steam box on the engine while Morn shelled the fruit and nuts. They threw the chaff over the side to attract more fish toward the trailing line.

Night descended quickly once the sun started dipping below the tree line and it was almost pitch black by the time they had finished eating. Marra pulled the insect net about the cabin and rolled into her blanket without a word.

Much later, Morn woke to the strangest sound. For a moment he feared they had left the engine to build up excess pressure and it was blowing off steam in uneven bursts. A moment�s consideration made him realise the noise was Marra, sobbing in her sleep. He reached across and touched her shoulder. She took his hand, laced her fingers with his and the sobbing subsided.




Okay, maybe I won’t write Open Sourrce Environment. I know what I want to say, but I can’t quite put it together in my head how I want to say it. I’m off to the Lakes this weekend for my cousin’s wedding. If I don’t get too drunk at the reception, maybe on Sunday I can formulate my position. Maybe.

Seeds

Shot pistols generally spat clusters of small metal balls in a lethal cone out to a few hundred spans. Mirl�s gunnery officer had perfected a far more interesting projectile. Harren steadied the extended stock against his shoulder and took aim on an Albo.

The recoil nearly toppled him from his chair. Halfway to the old plane a thin trail of flame traced the bullet�s path. It passed through the canvas and the inside of the plane was illuminated with bright yellow light. Harren pulled back the lever over the barrel and fed another shell into the chamber. This time he stood to put a shot through the canopy of the next Albo over. He collapsed into his chair and guzzled down another mouthful of the mechanics� searing liquor. �What is in those things?�

Mirl held up a shell. It had a metal skin, scarred with predetermined fragmentation lines. �There are two chambers inside. The contents react violently with each other. The propellant dries a nail through them both and they start reacting at about two hundred spans. When the shell splits it releases flaming liquid in all directions. Or it would explode at about a thousand spans and do the same thing.�

�Really?� Harren cranked the handle and fired straight up.

They watched the fire trail thicken and eventually blossom into a white hot teardrop. �We should move.� Suggested Mirl.

�Why?�

�What goes up must come down.�

�Oh. Of course.� They grabbed the bottles of liquor and bag of ammunition and wandered a wavering line back to the mess. Harren remembered the chairs as he stood at the door, and looked back to see them both in flames.

There were mounted commendations all the way down the main table. Each sat atop the growing tower of ale and spirit bottles the associated crew were consuming. Harren�s gunship raid and Mirl�s high altitude bombing were being lauded as grand shows of strength. The heroes were due to embark on a publicity tour. �Drink your fill boys, for tomorrow we must entertain our public!� There was a roar from the crews and a hammering of the table that toppled two bottle towers.

They collapsed onto a bench seat. �Where have they sent you?� Mirl asked.

�Back to Reff, to shine above the grimy city, then some middle of nowhere air show and finally on to Stran Island to talk with the Navy about combined force attacks.�

�We are going even further north, to show the damned logging camps that we care about them by mercilessly bombing trees.�

�Ay?�

�This supposed Hidden Army in the woods. Every time a logger gets toxicated and falls in the river it�s all about the Hidden Army. So we are going to bomb the forest around the river and maybe kill some river reptiles.�

�That sounds like more action than I will see.�

�Death from above!�

�Death from above!� They saluted each other with spirit bottles.




I checked out the new Selfridges store in town today. There’s a great food hall, and I now know where to get my badger hair shaving brush. But there is definitely something wrong with buying skate style T shirts in a shop for the rich and wannabe posh.

Seeds

The final guidance signal had come on when promised and they had been bearing down it ever since. A white scar on the grey of the ocean had eventually appeared on the horizon and slid toward them. Closer to, it was an irregular shape very low in the water, with two ships moored to the south and another to the west. �Half Time base to Wasp flight. Receiving?�

�Receiving. This is Wasp flight leader. Request permission to land.�

�Permission granted. Your only other option is to turn that thing into a boat. Approach from the west. Light crosswind from the northeast.�

�Okay flight. The Cicciles should land first. They will be closer to empty.�

There was an average length runway cut into the rock, more than long enough for the Wasps, laid with a hexagonally patterned rubberised matting. The fighters landed close together and were bustled off the runway to refuelling spots where their pilots were helped from the cockpits and walked with a cramped hobble to a feeding and flushing tent.

The Wasps landed in reverse order, until Four landed hard. The right wheel collapsed and the plane pirouetted off the runway toward the nearest ship. It came to rest with one wing crumpled against the hull. The pilot and navigator jumped out and ran the best they could for cover, but there was no fire. Two, and Reed, approached the runway more carefully.

As they taxied into the rest area, Reed noticed the fuel hoses and drop tanks around the other planes. He climbed down to be greeted by an officer in naval whites. With no understanding of Navy rankings he saluted, just in case. �Wing commander Reed, I am Captain Browdy, commander of Half Time field.�

�Pleased to be here sir.�

�Come this way and I shall see you are fed and flushed. Our mechanics will want to talk to you about the state of your plane.�

�You are planning a fast turn around?�

�Half Time is tidal. We have about twenty thousand counts until the island is under five spans of water. There is only stowage space for a few planes on our ships, and one of those has been taken by your number four.�

�I do not think any of my flight are ready for another trip just yet.�

�Never fear. We have new crews for all your planes.� By now they were within the tent. At the far end sat plane crews in fresh gear, all ready for take off. Reed�s flight eyed them suspiciously, between huge mouthfuls of fish stew. �You shall be billeted here for a few days, until the next flight arrives, then you shall take over from them.�

Flushed, and with a bowl of stew each, Reed and Jay stood outside the tent watching the refuelling. On the far side of the runway, the wreck of Four was having inflatable pontoon strapped to it and filled. As the tide rose, so it would be lifted and could be moved to the crane that hung over the ship�s side.

�Horse told me something big was happening. I think this is even bigger than he suspected.�




During the World Summit, all the conservative blogs took great pleasure in pretending that sustainable development was all about keeping developing nations down by not allowing them ‘Western style economies.’ Which anyone with a clue (and, I think, some of them) can tell is either a stupid interpretation or willful misrepresentation. I’ve been cogitating a way to argue the case against them, and today I think I came up with it. The working title is ‘Open Source Environment’ and I’ll try to get it posted by the end of the week.

Seeds

Wire had been strung between the trees above the tunnel mouth to catch the radio waves bounced off the atmosphere. Lensman took the coded pages and translated them with a one time pad. There was a simple request and a number of suggested map references.

The squad assembled under the evening sun around the roasting goat that Kess had shot. Lensman laid a large map on the flat stone that served as a table. �We have been asked to carry out harassing attacks and sabotage on the enemy in certain regions.� Once they were in the field, strike squads could only be asked to make attacks. Their longevity was a prime concern and survival their main mission. Lensman circled six areas with a wax pencil. �I know some of these targets are on the Plains,� he pre-empted Mov�s complaint, �and there is further to fall back. But they are unlikely to search for us in the mountains.�

Rey leaned over the map. �These three areas are closely grouped. If we coordinate attacks the confusion should allow us time to withdraw.�

�And they are closer to the hills.� Kess added, with relief, �We can block any pursuit easier where the land has proper contours.�

�Four day�s march. Assemble all the equipment you need and we shall leave in the morning.�




Quite a productive day, I now have Seeds material until Wednesday. Tomorrow I hope to get through to sometime next week-

Navigation in the mountains was all about landmarks, triangulating one peak against another gave a plane�s location. Over the ocean, there were no visual pointers and Jay was triangulating to radio sources.

By now they had flown into the new day and in all directions they could see the haze grey of the planes� camouflage. Occasional specks of white trailed behind boats, but they were the only indications of life.

The directional receiver in the nose had located four radio sources. The angles to these tallied with Jay�s mental arithmetic on air speed and wind direction. �Come about two degrees south.� She told Reed. The plane banked lightly and the rest of the wing followed. They had been describing a shallow zig-zag about their plotted course. �The wing drop tanks are almost empty. I will empty them and release them. No point in wasting fuel dragging them.�

�We must be nearing the point of no return.�

�We just passed it. I only hope we can keep our feet dry in this direction.�


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.