A Timely Rescue

 

 Les Freres Corses finally completed the level--I forget the number, but it was the one with the dragons and glitches. Unfortunately, the time traveling DeLorean was killed in combat with a dragon or some other mean beastie and our heroes had to be rescued. Darth Vader was hors de combat with a plethora of wounds.

Even though the transportation was too kaput to travel, there remained enough power to send a signal to another ship for rescue. The dice rolls proved favorable and the signal was sent; there was a ship in the area; and it was able to respond in time. I suggested that we roll for the possibility that the responding ship could be an enemy or slaver ship, but the objections prevented checking on that possibility. As seen in the picture above, they all piled into the rescue ship (some had to be carried) and blasted off to the next level where the DeLorean undergoes repairs while they gather some valuable metal necessary to complete the resurrection of the time traveling transport.

__________________________

The bugmageddon novel is complete--the first complete draft, that is. At 50K I guess it's a longer novella--and about 10K more words than I was targeting. I'm also locked and loaded for my presentation at the upcoming Writers Cantina. 

I did finish The Escape from Elba: The Fall and Flight of Napoleon 1814-1815 by Norman Mackenzie. It's the only book I've read about the Emperor's sojourn on and escape from Elba. Although there was a fair amount of seemingly insignificant detail, overall it was excellent. I enjoyed the account of Napoleon's time there and the fantastic escape and march to Paris. I've read other accounts of the return to Paris, but they lacked the specifics included by Mackenzie. The escape from Elba might easily have been thwarted by better surveillance on the part of the British, and Louis XVIII made all the best decisions for hastening Bonaparte's return. The status of Napoleon as "King of Elba" versus "prisoner of the allies" and the failure of the allies to honor the Treaty of Fontainbleau complicated by the Congress of Vienna and various secret treaties is a fascinating subject. Many years ago I read an excellent book (probably no longer in print) about the Congress of Vienna. I wish I knew the name of it. Anyway, there are great story possibilities in all this.
 

 

Gobsmacking

 Sometimes things don't go as planned:

 

The bugmageddon novel isn't complete, but I did get it nearly finished on Saturday as my fingers danced over the keys while episodes of Magnum P.I. (the good old one) played in the background.

 Excerpt from Bugs in the System:

Doot triggered the carbine. A bullet pierced the chitinous belly and exploded from the back of the rising centipede. The gun spoke no more. The last magazine was empty. The pede shot forward. Doot swung the gun like a bat, knocking back the crawler. The monster’s many legs held its lower body in place and it thrust again, head and upper body darting toward its prey. Doot took the pitch to the inside and smashed it wide.

The novel is deep in the gobsmacking wonderclash. The hammerschlag falls and the streams are crossing. A couple evenings or another Saturday writing session will have it complete for my Skirmish Team's review.

Speaking of wonderclashes, hammerschlags, and crossing streams, that reminds me that the time for my presentation on forging unforgettable stories is drawing close. I had hoped to do a local presentation this month as a practice for the Utah conference, but scheduling didn't work out. Those writers will get the raw, unrefined product, husks and all.

FYI Truth in Flames, my favorite book so far in the Tomahawks and Dragon Fire Series is only 99 cents for a few more days, before it goes back up to $4.99.

Rocinante and the Volcanic Slag

 

I saddled up and loaded the steel steed with requisite equipment and bags, including a sandwich for the road. We passed the first brief leg of the trip racked with doubt and trepidation. If everything went as planned, it would be our longest ride together. Of course, if things went other than as planned, the ride could be our last.

We both took fuel, burdening the visa and lightening the lunchbox. With a half sandwich to fortify my commitment to a potentially rash decision. I revved my buttercup Rocinante onto the open road. Although all the apps augured sunshine, the dark clouds foretold differently and with greater authority. We discovered rain within the hour. It was but a taste of the adventure to come and barely wet my helm.

When we left the busy thoroughfare for the mountain passes, our course attracted nature's eye. On the ascending trails it seemed the storm had already passed, but when we mounted to the high plateau we rode straight into nature's wrath. She struck with increasing ferocity, attempting to sweep Rocinante from the way, forsaking rain in favor of gale force blasts.

Onward, ever onward we rode until at last we reached the mountains of the moon. My buttercup Rocinante rolled against the blast in a high desert of volcanic slag. Heaps of cinders and stately lava domes were decreed in this forsaken landscape above a sunless sea. The dark domes bulged and cracked as if from the force of monstrous aliens arising from the basalt confines with death and destruction for humanity.

At last we escaped the gale of nature's wrath and the valley of the shadow to complete the ride to Eldorado. Fortunately, the weather for the return trip was much better. I met a traveler in Carey, who rode a Bonneville Triumph, and had a nice conversation with him. I saw no maids with dulcimers and I had seen some years before the cave of ice. Nevertheless, you may want to close your eyes with holy dread for I on junk food have fed and found it all very high priced.

Tomorrow's news today

 

Who can foresee the future or weave it from the past? Who knows what a man will speak or when he'll breath his last?

The future lies hidden in impenetrable cloud, while the past, with each expiring second, passes beneath a shroud.

The present rests precariously--yet perpetually--on the horns of fugacious dilemma. Where can today's video screen connect with tomorrow's antenna?

Show me the pavilion wherein lies futurity's looking glass. Who'll march victorious from the field, and who'll remain cold upon the grass?

Murky night obscures the way, so we seldom see beyond today. Tomorrow neither reveals itself nor deigns its secrets to betray. 

I may be a mess, but I do shower--that's where the first lines of that mess above came to me. Wouldn't decisions be easier if we could see how they're going to work out? That reminds me, Iago, Atu, and Alex have a discussion about that very idea and the problem of unintended consequences in Truth in Flames, Book 5 of the Tomahawks and Dragon Fire Series. Here's part of it:

--“Every stick has two ends. Every decision has a consequence. When we choose one, we also choose the other. Often, both choice and consequence are easily seen. It is the host of consequences unforeseen and hiding in the darkness beyond our comprehension that we fear most. Every stick we take up may be connected to a network of others. If one could see every stick, every consequence, would the decision be any less difficult? Understanding all the consequences might force us to select between exquisitely painful choices. Mere mortals are not made to cope with such manifold manifestations of the mysterious future. Indeed, the future is formed by a network of our own decisions and the choices made by so many others that we do cripple ourselves in compacting the whole weight of all the ponderous freight that follows upon that single point.”--

 I'll leave you to cogitate on that while you will.