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.

Seeds–

The low, barn-like structure the tri-motor had been wheeled into was a sham. The rear opened onto an old quarry working which had been roofed over to create a huge hangar. There were another two of Horse�s supply fleet and an old Albo that had been refitted with an arsenal of defensive autoguns. There were other shapes, twin boomed and vaguely familiar, in shadows beyond.

An officer approached Horse and Reed, saluted them and made the sign of the Silver Tower. �Welcome back sir. You must be commander Reed.�

�Yes. This,� Reed had felt her appear at his elbow, �is my bombardier, Jay.�

The officer saluted Jay. �If you will come this way sir, madam. The rest of your flight will be settled into their billets.�

�We are getting a tour of Dreamland?� Jay squeaked. �Are we cleared for that?�

�This complex is currently locked down. You cannot leave to tell anyone about it. And your next posting is,� he smirked, �remote, shall we say.�

Lights were coming on in the far end of the hangar, randomly revealing details. �Those are Slender Wasps.� Reed was disappointed.

�No. Those are larger than Slender Wasps.� Jay wanted to rush ahead and investigate.

�Killer Wasps. Not the most imaginative name, I admit. We have built upon the original�s strengths- the strong backbone and excellent handling characteristics- and fitted supercharged V12 engines and pressurised the cabin. It can fly higher and faster, and still negotiate narrow valleys just as well. You shall be taking this flight to your new posting.�

Up close, Reed studied his new plane. The shoulder where wings met fuselage was familiar, and the tail was long and thin. The crew section was undoubtedly larger, and he could make out the double thick glass. It was painted a light blue grey on the underside and a broken darker blue- grey on top. This was not any mountain camouflage that Reed knew. �Where is our posting?�

�I�m afraid I can�t tell you that, sir. Come this way and I shall show some more of the �toys� we have been working on.� A tunnel ran to the next hangar quarry. Cabling and lights hung from nails hammered into the rock. �These will be your escorts on combat missions.� The strange beast was a single seater, painted in a similar scheme to the Killer Wasps. The engine, and a pusher propeller, were behind the pilot, twin tails sprouted from the wing and were joined by a large rear flap. The long nose housed a six barrel rotating autogun and there were mountings under the wing for bombs, rockets or drop tanks. �It�s a Ciccile.�

�Cheecheel?� Jay reddened at her poor pronunciation.

�It�s a ten legged hunting insect which can jump great distances, is very agile and has a deadly bite. When the Southern army broke through onto the plains, some of the designers flew the prototypes over the mountains and demanded sanctuary on our side. It was better than any interceptors we were working on at the time.�

There were other planes on display, single examples. �Our rogues gallery.� The officer commented. There was a battered metal thing which looked like an arrow head and had no landing gear, a stubby prop plane with short deep wings and a huge engine, a box with no wings but horizontal windmill blades and a model of a bomber with twin fuselages and eight engines. �Some of them will see production yet.�

Jay had taken Reed�s hand, �I feel quite excited.�

�Military hardware turns you on? I�ll have to remember that.�

Seeds–

Boran shuffled paper across his desk. Production reports, intelligence reports, statistics for port usage. Lots of things he could look at but not change without permission. The door opened and his assistant bore another armful of documents. �I thought you were going down to the docks?�

�Janssen. Commander Janssen has something more important to see me about. He just has not called for me yet.� The young man smiled at his boss. There could only be a few years difference in their ages- when he still lived in the city Boran could have played in the municipal park with Aylo. Now he had to be guarded in what he said, for both their sakes. A shame, Aylo was a handsome man. �What do you have for me?�

�Traffic reports from the railroad. There is a bottleneck becoming evident in the southern marshalling yards. A report of possible sabotage on the Plains, though it looks to me as if someone is trying to cover for failing in their routine maintenance duties. And these, which are eyes only sealed.� Aylo dropped the last three bundles with a hint of anger. So hard, in fact, that the seal on the top one popped off.

�How are conditions in the city?�

�Sir?�

�Not the propaganda about the people of Cora and Munss welcoming their liberation. How are people coping, really? I know that the amount of food coming into the cities- and staying- is a lot lower for the civilian population than it was last season. It will be the long nights soon enough, and if we have been starving people through the fat season that is when they will start dying.�

�There are those who would benefit from more food, sir. That is always true.�

�The young, the old and the sick?�

�Sir.�

�I will suggest to Commander Janssen that too many deaths amongst the citizenry would have an adverse effect upon the workers and consequently production. He may respond.�

�Thank you sir.� Aylo turned to leave, �If I may say so sir, you are certainly more considerate than many in the command.�

�Thank you Aylo. Do not tell anyone else that though.�

�Sir.�

Hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ- Oasis – (What’s The Story) Morning Glory?

I’ve been trying to think of titles for what I’m currently calling Seeds. So far I’ve come up with Silver Tower (already a book by Dale Brown and only referring to one aspect of the story) or Islands in Time (or Space. I might as well go the hwole hog and call it Islands in the Stream so Dolly and Kenny can sing the movie adaptation’s theme tune.)

They had marched hard for two days, making the most of the pack animals to speed their movements, then discarded them and cut over into another valley on foot. Now they were approaching their planned camp. Mov had scouted and reported the road was so overgrown it couldn�t have been used for several seasons.

The construction had collapsed in several places, where it clung to the steepest cliff face, but a way could always be found in single file. Near the head of the valley, it found its way back onto firm ground. There was machinery now- old, steam driven things rusting in overgrown parks. Ahead, a great scar in the mountain face was just visible behind screens of trees.

The scar was a great arched tunnel mouth. There was more machinery here, steam driven tracked trucks and a large conveyor bearing rocks from the darkness. Halfway through a shift, everyone had downed tools and left. �What is this place?� Rey asked.

�The Karr tunnel.� Lensman told him, �One of the greatest engineering failures of all time. It was supposed to join the east and west sides of the range far to the south of the Arril pass. They broke countless machines, killed a hundred or so workers and then just ran out of money. It bankrupted my mother�s side of the family.�

�This is to be our base of operations? Do the southerners know of its existence?�

�Everyone knows of it, but very few think about it. Besides, it is a very defensible position. We rest here for a few days and then start expeditions.�

Kess and Mov were already marking out fire zones for defence. They had found a steam shovel, the bucket resting on an outcrop. �This ferrous must be two or three digits thick. We could mount an autogun in here and catch them as they come up the road.�

Mov nodded, �It would be very hard to get above us as well. On the nearside here, they would have to cross our field of fire before they could even start climbing. And on the far side, it is hardly to their advantage.�

�We can set up trip mines and calibrate the bomb lobbers to hit the far side of that rise. Unless they send an army after us it will be another unfair fight.�

�You say that like it is a bad thing, youngster.�

Radio Ass Kiss- Elastica- The Menace, The Wannadies – Bagsy Me.

Seeds–

They had taken crude measurements and determined the island�s daily path. It described a rough ellipse- North and West as the tide flowed that way, then South and East as it waned. Always, on the horizon in one direction or another, heavier swells than they sailed in could be seen breaking against some underwater obstruction.

The dead zone was a natural trap for flotsam. On the third day Bobb spotted a wooden barrel floating close to the north shore and swam it in. Salt water had leached in to corrupt the alcoholic contents, but the metal bands that held it together, and the wood itself, could be put to use. The metal was fashioned into a grapple and attached to the length of rope to haul in floating material without getting wet feet. Small strips became a barbed points and Sheel quickly became adept at harpooning fish.

Day by day the camp grew. A great expanse of rubberised canvas became both a bivouac off the single tree and a night-time collector of condensing dew. Bottles gave up their contents and became storage or were fashioned into lenses for the solar still and cooker Gim was building. They had even started farming, after a fashion, cultivating furrows of the algae for soups and planting seeds from the few fruit that washed up whole.

Sheel was at the fishing hole they had hacked through the roots near the shore. She had baited it with handfuls of the surface algae, so much richer than the stuff that grew below the waterline, and was waiting with a harpoon. Bobb watched as she shifted slightly. There was a movement just at the edge of light�s penetration, but she didn�t aim directly at it. Slightly to the right there was another movement, closer to the surface, the coil of a long thin body tracking the smaller fish. Sheel threw the harpoon with the whole of her body. It dug in to its target, and moved sharply as the eel reacted. Grasping the very end of the long harpoon handle, Sheel used all her weight to drive it through the eel�s body.

Bobb made for one of the smaller spare harpoons, but Sheel, spotting him for the first time, shook her head and pointed at the rope trailing out of the fishing hole. They hauled back and brought the eel to the surface. It�s head broke water and flailed around, a many eyed, multi toothed thing like the one Bobb had seen on his first trip under the island.

�Damn! I should have hit it nearer the brain.� Sheel let out some slack and stepped a safe distance from the eel. Now she nodded at the other harpoons. Bobb picked one and circled around behind her. The eel�s eyes weren�t made for use out of water. It could see two shapes moving around it, with no clue which was closer or the greater threat. It feinted toward the smaller shape, which moved quickly away.

Bobb watched the eel whip toward Sheel and took the opportunity to jump in. He drove the harpoon home just behind the great jaws, pushing it through and wedging it in the ground.

�You missed the brain.� Sheel pointed out.

�Only by a little.� Bobb lied. They had cut up the first one they caught and identified the various organs. The primary stomach was just behind the jaws, directly behind a sphinctered gullet. Much further back, in a bulge under the first dorsal fin, was the brain. Sheel took the last harpoon and pushed it between the overlapping plates protecting the brain pan.

The eel still twitched, it would take a long time for all its nerves to process their final signals. They didn�t watch it, walking to the shore and staring at the nearest surf line. �That was the biggest so far.� Bobb commented.

�This end of our territory seems the most fertile for life, like the other has the richest plunder.�

�How long do you think we�ll be out here?�

�Possibly for ever. Maybe until the seasons change and storms rip our little home apart. We can live long enough to see either eventuality.�

�I�ll go for the first one. I don�t imagine this place grew to its current size between storm seasons. If there are any.

�Do you remember the stories of the outposters? How they survived for generations cut off from supply routes and outside communication.�

�You�re asking me to have your children?� Sheel laughed, then checked the look on Bobb�s face. �And Gim�s too? I mean, if you�re looking at breeding generations of descendants, you want them to start with as wide a gene pool as possible, don�t you.�

�You weren�t meant to take the suggestion that seriously. It was just an idea.�

�It stays an idea. I still think we�ll be rescued from our little paradise.�

The eel had stopped twitching. They set about cutting it up with knives fashioned from glass.

AM Radio- Fatboy Slim- Better Living Through Chemistry, Underworld-Dubnobasswithmyheadman, Joe Jackson- Stepping Out, The Very Best Of, The Wonderstuff- Love Bites And Bruises.

Gotta go- Beer!

In a couple of days I should have Another Education & Ruby Red prepared for downloading, for a small fee. There’ll be a couple of chapters that aren’t in the printed version and a whole bunch of graphics, such as the chapter splash pages from Education’s appearance in Ten Years Asleep. I’m also considering a members only section, with new material and completed works.

Seeds–

It was an inspiring sight. All ten of the wings in service had finally formed a tactical flight. They were carefully arranged in a crescent, with the mountains behind and crews in front, for a commemorative picture.

After the sixth exposure, for good luck, the crews broke and the tractors came to back the wings into the hangars. The ground crew were nervous, there was only clearance of a few digits from the tips of the wings to the hangar walls. It would not do to damage the pride of the Southern air force through clumsy reversing.

Harren watched, not really worried, then waved to the pilot of one of the other wings. Mirl was another veteran of the Stumps. He had been looking at the sorry collection of them that had been evicted in favour of the wings. �By the Tower, I had hoped to never see another of those things. Two days now since I arrived here and I can see them from my billet. I swear the deserter squadrons didn�t know what they were in for, or they�d have taken the trip to the prison camps with their countrymen.�

They walked across the runway. At the western end there were two thousand spans of new tar pack. It had gone down recently and was still glossy black and incompletely cured. The runway was flanked by tall seed grasses. They supplied the base with some of its food, and would stop a Stump that missed a landing. Hitting the field with a wing would just turn it into so much chaff.

The wind grew. The seed grass rustled. On the far side of the river dust raised from the flat land and whorled around unseen attractors. �Why no farm land on that side?� Harren asked.

�The base commander wanted a good field of fire.� Mirl pointed out the guard towers arrayed from the northern edge of the base to the southern. �The river comes down from the mountains and bows around the base. Makes quite a good defensive line, but the seed grass grows taller than a man. A small force could have sneaked right to the river and crossed at its shallowest point. So he ordered a thousand span killing zone in every direction. Cut everything down and sowed the ground with caustic and salt so nothing could grow on it.�

�Drastic.�

�This is a deserter squadron. The Plains people hate the deserters more than us. One of the flight crews went off base just before I arrived, and didn�t come back. They were found yesterday, hanging from trees with spikes through their hands and feet and with their bellies split open so the insects could eat them alive.�

They passed the control tower, with its new RADIF direction finder array on the roof. �The base commander is sending the rest of the squadron up tomorrow to bomb the nearest town.�

�Will that stop other attacks?�

�More likely it will inspire them. Look at these.� Off to their left there was a large break in the seed grass. Nearly a hundred plane carcasses, biplane bombers, were parked haphazardly together. Some had been broken in the process, one large bunch had burnt, twisting together.

�Albos.�

�The same. The deserters flew these, before we put them in Stumps. They would be better planes, with decent engines. The ones they used couldn�t even move my motor trike. It would have been cheaper to refit those.�

�But it wouldn�t have looked as good.� Harren remembered the propaganda pictures of the Plains Loyalists, as the deserters were officially known, receiving the first of their superior Southern fighters.

The flight crews were converging on a small building near the barracks. �The seed ale is an acquired taste,� Mirl commented, �but the mechanics have a still which turns out a nasty liquor.�

�I�m not going to try and drink you under the table. I learnt that lesson last time.�

Sad songs say so much- Into The Eighties, Status Quo- 12 Gold Bars, Northern Soul Memories.

Chapter 1 of Seeds is up. There’ll be a whole front page as soon as I get a decent cover illustration done.

Horse had been a fighter pilot, back in the days of biplanes held together by string and prayers. He had fought in the Glacier War and was credited with ten kills, though he only accepted seven of them. Either figure made him the highest scoring veteran of the conflict still flying. Somewhere along the line he had foregone his given name and started going by his call sign, even after starting an air courier service upon discharge. After growing fat and happy on the profits he had allowed the company to be integrated with the air army as the supply division, as long as he could fly active service. The lure of battle took him to supply drops and spy landings, but today he was a passenger carrier to the chosen crews of Wasp squadron 3.

Reed took the co-pilot�s seat when it was offered. �Why not take your planes with you?� Horse enquired as he lined up along the main runway.

�Some younger crews are being rotated in, to get experience in the mountains. Maybe combat, the way events are progressing.�

�There�s definitely going to be combat. Something is coming I can tell you. It is only a little activity at each of my stops, but it all adds up.�

�You don�t gossip out of town about this, I hope.�

Horse guffawed as he throttled up. �I never get out of town. Everyone I know, eat with, drink with or sleep with serves in some way. Have you clipped that luscious new bombardier of yours yet? A nice looking one, her, none too fat, but nicely rounded.� They pulled off the ground, banked away from the mountains and began to climb.

�Have you clipped your co-pilot? Larin�s not on this flight, I notice.�

�Clipped her and promised to her. The medics have her off flying for a while, just in case.�

Reed considered this for a while. �You�re telling me there�s a little Horse on the way?�

�The first. Well, the first that I know of. I liberated a lot more than just Cora in the Glacier War, if you understand me.�

Disco Inferno- Apollo Four Forty- Getting High On Your Own Supply, Aim- Cold Water Music

Seeds–

From above, the great river suddenly appeared from the forests, its tributaries were so shaded by overgrowth. Few from the outside had dared track its true source. One way or another, none had returned.

There was a village in among the trees, fugitives from the war which raged further south and wild men they had befriended. It was hard to spot, and impossible to approach undetected. The Lang made his arrival known well in advance. Coming from upstream on his three log raft his provenance was obvious. None of his observers raised a weapon.

A waterfall roared ahead, but there were landing stages well before the rapids began. Figures began to crowd the nearest stage. With careful strokes, the Lang headed for it.

The crowd drew back, leaving only one figure, a tall bearded man in a grey one-piece outfit with more pockets than seemed necessary. The Lang sprang up to the stage, converting his landing to a deep bow. Five young dockers leapt down and had his raft tied to before he spoke. �Sir, I request your permission to pass.� It was one of the plains dialects, he hoped he had judged the chieftain correctly.

The bearded man bowed deeply in reply, �Sir, it would be our honour to help you on your way. I am Morn, could I presume to ask your name?�

�I have yet to take one. It would be an honour to assume yours for my travels.�

The crowd whooped and the chieftain could not contain his grin. Such recognition from a holy man was more than any could hope for. �It is more than I deserve. Our pathetic village is yours for as long as you wish to stay.�

Right round like a record baby, right round- Oasis- Definitely Maybe, Kingmaker- In The Best Possible Taste, Unbelievable.

Monday is film day. I’ve managed to see The Sum of All Fears and Blade Runner (directors cut, but with serious damage to the film and jumps where frames are missing).

Seeds–

Someone had been discreet enough to listen at the door and slid the orders under it rather than intrude. Reed tucked Jay in and padded across to the envelope.

There were two sheets, held together with a folded and crimped metal strip. In effect it was a list of names, a date and destination, but it had been wrapped up in the usual reminders to check all components and pack spare underwear.

Jay woke after a few shakes. She blinked at the sheets, skim reading when the sleep was from her eyes. �That�s away from the action. And why aren�t they sending the whole squadron?�

�I don�t know. Serena, and a few of the other bombardiers and some of the ground crew were transferred out the same way. Before you came along, of course.�

�Of course.�

�I shall tell them at the briefing. Until then�?�

�Until then, I am going back to my room.�

Surround sound- Shine 7, Doves- Lost Souls.

May’s picture gallery is now up.

Thinking about my postscript yesterday, I guess Seeds is a techno thriller of sorts. I’m just taking the easy way out and inventing my own technology-

There had been the mission debriefing, where they had tried to recall everything they had seen. Now they were getting the political debrief, where they were told what had happened.

The Ideological Officer had taken quite well to the plains life, filling out and taking colour. But his adherence to the rules was as tight as ever. �What you saw were Northern rockets, designed to land bombs on Reff and destroy our fuel refining capabilities. They stole the technology from us, of course.�

�Of course. Because our rocketry is so advanced.� Karn wasn�t the best at sarcasm. He cast a glance out of the window as he said the words.

�They do not have the resources to do it again. And we shall be exacting revenge for this, as well as a number of other raids I have been informed of. I am confident that this squadron shall be participating.� He was considering each word, plodding them out carefully within doctrine.

Karn perked up. �So we finally get a proper mission?�

�That depends upon you, to an extent.� The officer pulled a large folder from the desk drawer. �These are all legitimate targets. Draw up mission briefs and get back to me.�

Muzik- Propellerheads- Decksanddrumsandrockandroll, Dandy Warhols- Come Down.

I’ve been going through my pictures to find ones which might make for good backdrops in DEx. I’ve only found a few hundred.
Seeds–

Rey handed the field glasses to Lensman. �Some kind of camp. There are firing ranges, an assault course, and look at all the pitons and ropes on those cliffs. I think they are trying to turn flatlanders into real troops.�
Troops and soft skins milled around the assembly area near the gates, readying a clean up squad for the collapsed tunnel down the road. �They aren�t leaving many guards.� Lensman commented.
�What are you thinking of?�
�They have an artillery range. We don�t have any heavy weapons.�
�You want to steal their guns? That would give us away, you know?�
�Not if we do it properly. There has already been one ir raid. What if we can convince them there was another?�
Rey took back the glasses. The work crew was pulling out, crossing the small river that ran along the near boundary of the camp. He counted the soldiers left behind. �I�ll get Kess up here. He can pick off the guards before we go in. If we put a fire crew there,� he pointed at the bluff above a curve in the river, �they can strafe the barracks while I lead a squad against admin and the canteen and Mov takes the armoury. Then we plant enough charges to suggest bombs.�
�A good plan. But one change. I shall lead your squad, you guide the covering fire.�
�Sir?�
�There is only yourself and Mov who have seen action in this squad. Everyone else, including myself, needs the experience. And where better than against a soft target such as this?�

Platters- The Cooper Temple Clause- See This Through and Leave, Gomez- Bring It On, Pixies- Doolittle, Embrace- The Good Will Out, Jim’s Super Stereoworld- Jim’s Super Stereoworld, The Mull Historical Society- Loss

The Seeds segment I promised earlier-

The waves didn�t break upon the shore. Indeed, the island seemed to be lifted and propelled along by the rollers. Gim planted his feet as far apart as possible, side on to the tide. �This foot�s rising, only slightly, but� And there, it�s under me�. And now this foot. The whole island moves as the wave goes by.�

�That�s a relief. There�s only a small rise above sea level, I thought we were going to flood at high tide.� Sheel ran a hand through the green slime that passed for soil, studied the substance, then shook it off. �Where�s Bobb?�

�He went to the North shore, thought he�d seen something to build with.�

Bobb returned some time later. The setting sun cast a long shadow. �I thought you said he had gone North?�

�He did.�

�So why�s he coming back from the West?�

�Could have done a part circuit.�

�Or our island�s rotating in the current.�

Bobb set down a sack. �There was a camp of some sort back there. I think I have enough stuff to make a solar still. What have you found out?�

Gim took the sack and emptied it. He started sorting through the contents. �Our island�s not very solidly planted.�

�Did you notice the way it moved with the waves?� Sheel asked.

�Yeah. It�s more pronounced toward the edges.�

�Well, I started scooping away at the surface, think it�s algae of some sort. I found a way through the roots of that,� she pointed at the island�s one and only tree, centrally located, �and got so deep,� halfway up her upper arm, �before breaking through to water.�

Gim had assembled a frame for the solar still from the remnants of a parasol. He had shaped the wires to rest on the edge of a large basin, so the vapour rising from a cup of salt water in the middle could condense and run down purified. �There was some rope in that sack. If one of us ties it around our waist we can go over the edge and explore what is under our island.� He had found a smaller cup and was using this to bring water up from Sheel�s cup and feed the still. �In the morning, I think.�

A wee bit of Seeds, I’m going to put together a page soon to get everything into order-

The orgy had lasted four full days. It hadn�t been the greatest the citadel had ever seen- only three of the older monks had expired- but the Lang had tried to impregnate all the nubiles from the surrounding villages and the Yin had taken her pick of the men. Now both gurus had all their fleshly desires satisfied, they could be prepared to enter the world.
As the grounds were cleared and the joyously deceased monks laid to rest, the gurus went into isolation. Their bodies were steamed and their loins salved and oiled. Pampered, powdered and in pressed clothes, they reappeared two days later.
They went down to the lake one last time, to look at the island- glowing in the morning sunlight- then walked back along the tree lined pathe to the temple. Trees gave way to mud huts, wattle and daub, stone, half timbered and finally glazed brick. The gate had been dismantled and moved down the valley so a new extension could be marked out. A missionary had returned with news of a material- a powder and water mix which cured hard as sandstone and could be strengthened with ferrous bars.
The dark wood doors, over a span thick, had been re-hung for the occasion. A lazy traveller could walk around the gates, but the Lang and Yin put all their strength into pushing it open. Neither had passed beyond the threshold before, though both knew more about the world than anyone outside the temple. �We should take names.� The Yin suggested.
�Mine shall be from the first person I meet, I think.�
�I think I shall be Dana. After one of the goddesses of the Northern countries, as that is where I am headed.�
�I am heading down the river. From what I hear, there are many down there I could help.�
They stood for a while, staring up at the mountains and down at the river. In all probability they would never meet again. They touched fingers.
�Farewell Dana.�
�Farewell.�

Zounds- Guns N Roses- Appetite For Destruction, The Beat- Beat This! Best of the Beat, One Lady Owner- There’s Only We, Senseless Things- Empire Of The Senseless, Super Furry Animals- Guerilla, Madness- The Business.