First chapter to a story I may leave on the back burner.  I know how I want it to end but not sure of length or the middle exactly.  Not edited but I like the concept.  I’m finding that when I’m writing it’s more like reading than work, reading pretty slowly but I enjoy turning the pages.  I did a bit of research on getting published the other day, though it is premature.  Seems a lot more difficult than I was thinking.  I might try it sometime when I get more material together so I have something to fall back on.  Would rather write for fun for the time being.  I don’t know why the font changes halfway through some of the text when I post it.

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Inner Eye (Dec 13,2005-)

  David Roberts sat alone in a dim and dusty room.  Carved out my human hands long dead, it stood as a testament to ingenuity of time long past.  Only about five feet high it beckoned those who entered its maw, to sit upon the earthen floor and peer at messages whose meanings were forgotten.  Across the rocky enclosure sang carved stories in bright inks of heroes and demons, hunts and celebrations.  One in particular caught David’s eye.  A fantastic hunt told in dark coal, the prey upon the ground resembled a human being-it would have seemed cannibalistic if the hunter did not appear so alien.  His horned head stretched to the sky like smoke caught on a wind, peering down at his prey he appeared to be toying with the man.  David blinked and he could have sworn he saw the man moving, scrambling away from this dark overlord of nightmares left best to a dying people told in archeological digs.  Of course the people who made this cave were not dead yet, though each generation brought them closer to the brink.  At one time the village lying above ground was a center of commerce- but today it was an idle curiosity as the children left the old ways behind for the city.  David’s eyes continued to watch the stories unfold from the walls as he sat in the waiting room.

  David Roberts wasn’t a tall man, so found the room more comfortable than most would perhaps.  With longish unkempt hair and a gangly figure he felt oddly at peace sitting in the midst of so much ancient history with crossed legs. A cowboy hat capped his brow and his fingers dug into the dirt beneath him as he concentrated on what he would ask the seer.

  Perhaps seer was not the correct word, the people he had spoken with when researching the story called him by several names.  The blind one, mystic, holy man, and preacher were but a few terms lost in translation.  David was happy to call him by any, so long as it earned him a cover story at the weekly magazine he worked for.  It has been so long now since one of David’s stories had graced the cover, well over a year.  He had been in a slump, and his editor let him know it constantly.  Last month he had thought he had been onto something, Werewolf Children in Russia.  Unfortunately the publication relegated it to some back page, between horoscopes and the celebrity cross word puzzle.  This story though, David felt, could be the one to push him back on top.  An ancient site almost lost to history with some wonderful secret. 

  David had heard the story before, many times in his travels told by local drunks aiming to impress the foreigner.  Some civilization holding onto the past while cities were planted and grew around them.  Rumored to be haunted or contain artifacts of extraordinary power.  It was common in his line of work and usually were dismissed as readily as one would swat at a fly.  This time however was different.  The story involved a man who had burned out his own eyes to safe guard some gift of the Gods.  The locals hadn’t been very clear about what the gift was; only that it was a terrible and powerful thing.  When pressed to give more information the town’s people grew sullen and regretful that they had even brought it up.  David didn’t worry about that though, he had been around people who felt they had said too much before.  He simply dropped the subject, bought them all a round of drinks and began discussing local politics.  His mind didn’t drop the subject though.  A few days later he approached a few of the more talkative drunks, found the location of the mysterious man and here he was now, waiting for a meeting. 

  The reporter absentmindedly caressed his camera as he thought of the story to come.  It didn’t matter if the old man was a fraud or the artifact in question was really some dulled knife whose ceremonial purpose was forgotten.  A man who was blinded himself for some divine purpose was certainly enough to earn him some recognition.  As David tossed the idea over in his mind on what type of spin to give this article he didn’t notice the wooden doors to his side open or the old man making his way deeply hunched over with a walking stick.

  “So, after all these years someone has come asking me a story?”  The old man croaked the words to the startled man sitting cross-legged on the floor.  David struggled to get his camera off his neck and in so doing banged his head upon the low ceiling. 

  The man chuckled softly and spoke again.  “Perhaps we had better retire to a larger room.”  He gestured to the passage from which he had just come, descending into a dark slanted tunnel with intermittent torches burning brightly, as if they were being breathed upon. 

  David had regained his wits and given up on getting his camera ready, preferring to wait until he could stand full upright.  As he stumbled along after the man he asked him questions.

  “Why is that room called the waiting room?”  David inquired while ducking under the crude doors overhang and noticing that the way down had once been carved steps- long sense eroded. 

  “We are waiting for our curse to be lifted.  The room is between the sky and the ground where our agony lies.  It is a room of meditation, where each young man must pass into adulthood- and under its roof is where the keeper is chosen.”  The man walked with his stick before him as if he was having no problems upon the broken steps.  David thought to himself, ‘if this man is blind I’m a prize journalist’.

  “So, you’re called the keeper then?”  David struggled to keep up with the man as they descended deeper into the tunnel.  The embrace of claustrophobia settled upon his shoulders, but David managed to shrug it off.

  “Yes.  No doubt you have heard me called by many names, but Keeper is the one known by my people.  It was a great honor, bestowed upon me.  At the time I was happy and my family was proud, but I’ve come to wish such a hard thing had not been asked of me.”

  David noticed the tunnel was leveling out and saw a few hundred feet away a much larger stone archway and a bright room beyond.  “So you were asked to be keeper?”

  “I was chosen by the last keeper.  In our youth before we are destined to a path in life we are asked to spend three days without food in the waiting room to study the messages on the wall.  It is the only time we see the keeper in person, though we had heard stories in our youth from those who are older.  After the third day the previous Keeper took us one at a time to just under that archway ahead of us.  He asked us a simple question, ‘What did the walls say to you.’  Each boy before me returned with his head low and said he had gone no further.  For only the next Keeper was allowed before the next doorway.”  At the archway the old man paused to let David catch his breath.

  “What did you see on the walls?”

  The old man took a moment to answer.  “I told the old keeper, that I saw our people dying.  He just nodded and beckoned me into the room.  It was there he told me to close the chapter of my life above, and to come down here to live with him.”

  The old man stepped under the archway and into a glorious room several stories high and perfectly square.  The first part of the room was clearly a living space.  A matted bed lay on the ground, a wooden table with two chairs next to that, and a kettle hanging over an open fire a short distance off.  At the far side of the room stood two large statues of darkened evil figures overlooking a small pedestal. 

  “Is it true then, that you were blinded?”

  The Keeper grinned to himself and turned to see David dead on while pulling the silvered hair back from his face.  In this lit room he clearly saw the keepers eyes, or what would have been eyes- and it caused him to take a step back.  His eyeballs were both black as night with a deep scar running outward like cracks from where the pupil should have been. 

  “The worst part was the smell.”  The old man chuckled and walked over to the kettle.  David remembered himself and pulled his camera before him. 

  “Do you mind if I get a picture of you?”

  “We’ve come this far, haven’t we?  Go ahead and after that I’ll serve tea.”

  David tried not to wince at the old man’s eyes as he brought the camera into focus.  A quick press of the finger and David said, “Got it.”

  The Keeper gestured at the small table before him, “I hope you enjoy green tea.  It’s one of the few luxuries of a keeper to be well cared for by the villagers above.  At least those of them who are left.”

  David pulled up one of the only two stools and sat down trusting the Keeper to pour it himself.  ‘This is definitely going to make a good story’, he thought to himself as he pondered what to ask the man next.

  The old man poured them both a cup of tea without spilling a drop, and he sat down opposite David waiting expectantly for the reporter’s next question.

  David took a long sip of the tea and was pleasantly surprised as the taste.  The Keeper somehow noticing the man’s thoughts remarked, “One of my few rewards,” while he took a long drink himself.

  “So what exactly is it you’re keeping?”  David had relaxed a good deal by now and was finding it easier to look at the old man’s burned out eyes.

  “That involves the story of the rise, and fall of my people.  It will take some time.”

  “I don’t mind, I’ve got all the time in the world.”  David reached into his pocket to remove a pen and a small pad of paper.  “Mind if I take notes?”

  “Not at all, in fact I insist.”  The old man sipped his tea, cleared his throat, and began.

  “This all happened long ago before my people kept much in the way of records, so I can’t tell you if it was a thousand years or ten thousand years- but it was long before the wonders of modern times had even been dreamt up.  We were a fierce proud people who learned to fight barely off our mother’s backs.  It wasn’t too long before we had absorbed all the tribes around us, or conquered them.  We were an early empire, ruling as far as the eyes could see on the tallest hilltop.  But, it wasn’t power we wanted.  We were warriors and though the people under us grew fat under our rule we grew increasingly restless.  The hunts had lost all their flavor and our children were becoming decadent and unlearned of the warrior ways.”  The old man stared out in some direction as if he was seeing something for a moment before he continued.  “When we noticed that we were dying, not from some great battle but from our youth leaving our way of life- the high council decided it was time for another war.  But try as they might they could find no enemies within reach.  The few groups sprawled along the edge of our empire were too ready to join with us, not take up arms against us.” 

  David jotted down as much of this as he could while listening to the Keeper speak, though he only paid it half mind as he waited to hear the secret of this old man.  It will had some credibility to his story, but his readers wouldn’t want a history lesson- they want something to make their hair stand on end.

  “It was then that our high council turned to the preachers, at the time we worshipped the god of fire.  He set our spirits to flame, our warrior hearts to burn, and the fires that steadied our spears.  The council, being made up of warriors grown old, didn’t put much faith in the preachers- but seeing their own children becoming mercantile left them little choice.  So they asked the holy men, what is there that will save our people?  And the preachers said they needed time to think about it.  So the high council was left alone for several hours while the holy men burned several plants and spoke in words and returned, to the councils chagrin with this simple answer.  ‘You need a stronger enemy.’  The council was near in arms, since this was the very thing they already knew themselves.  But they knew that striking down a holy man would condemn their souls to servitude so held their tongues and asked, ‘where is this stronger enemy’.

  The Keeper took a sip from his tea while listening to David’s pen scratch the paper underneath it. 

  “So after some discussion they made one of the largest offerings of all time to the God of Fire.  Half the food seized in taxes by the tribes they had taken in by war or by surrender.  The people for the most part were against this, as it meant they would have to get by with much less over the winter months.  But enough support for the aged warriors on the council silenced them and so the offering was made one night under a clear sky.  ‘Oh Fire god, hear us,’ was chanted in unison by the priests.  ‘Give us an enemy worthy of your loyal followers to make battle with.’  As one they set torches to a great circle of dried branches and wood that stood under their sacrifice.  Still breathing, but tied, animals stirred amongst piles of grain and fruit.  Once more the preachers chanted, ‘Give us an enemy worthy of your loyal followers to make battle with.’  The flames grew higher and flew inward towards the center of the sacrificial circle.  Finally, a third time the preachers cried out louder than ever before, even joined by a few of the council men, ‘Give us an enemy worth of your loyal followers to make battle with.’  At the end of the words the fire suddenly flared to life in all directions taking up all the animals and offerings as if it was the fire god himself as a giant swallowing them with one gulp.”

  The keeper turned to David and asked, “Are you getting all of this?”

  “Yes, thank you.  Please continue.”  He was irritated at this story going on for so long, but didn’t want to upset the old man before he got everything he needed.

  “After the flash died down and the fire was out it took a few moments for their eyes to adjust once again to the dark.  It was then that they spied on the ground a bit of cloth with some writing upon it.  Though no one knew what it meant at the time the people rejoiced, for it meant that the God had answered them.  A scuffle broke out on whether the council or the priests would be the ones to hold onto the book but it was decided they would erect a great tent over the sacrificial site and keep it there for all to see.  One by one everyone of warrior age was lead to the site to see the canvas in hopes it would inspire conquest within them- but they saw nothing in it.  Dejected fathers and grandfathers lead their children back home.  Only about half the people had seen the cloth by then and the rest were claiming it was some fool trick by the priests planting it there for their own agenda.  This went on until sunrise the next morning when something strange began to happen.  It was as if some madness had gripped the young men of the village who had seen the cloth.  They spoke of seeing great shadowy beasts all about them.  They would say to their father or mother that an awesome talon was tearing lengths of flesh from their backs, the parents who were sure no such thing was happening called the medicine man with claims their child was with fever.  It wasn’t until even later that the older men who had seen the canvas began to see the same things.  This was the enemy promised by the God of Fire and my people rose up to vanquish it.  The half of the village who hadn’t seen the gift of the fire god felt the other half mad as they readied their weapons and progressed in small groups to whatever shadow they could find.  It appeared as if they were striking at nothing at all.  That was until the warriors started dying, ripped in two by some unseen hand they would hover in midair before falling to the ground. The people screamed in terror, as every person who had seen the cloth was killed; by the enemy found for us.  Every man except for one- an old warrior who had lost his sight some seasons past who walked up to the gift with his grandson.”

  “The first keeper?”  Asked David before realizing he hadn’t interrupted the old man’s story yet.

  “Yes, he would be known as the first keeper.  But for now the people were distraught and looking to place blame.  All their greatest warriors had been killed in one day.  There was no more sign of the great monsters that had come, but the memory was burned forever in my peoples mind.  Several priests were killed before the mobs were brought under control.  And even as some semblance of normalcy was returning, the question remained.  ‘What to do with the gift?’  We had gotten a gift from God, and no matter how much pain it had wrought, we could not bring ourselves to destroy it.  Not merely out of fear but also out of reverence.  So instead we gave it to the one man who had looked upon it and lived, the blind old warrior who came to be known as Keeper of the Gift, and in later generations just keeper.  The story is all but forgotten now, told generation to generation from one keeper to the next.  But the people now, live above as if nothing had ever happened.  This space was carved out of the rock as a place to keep the gift far enough away so as not to threaten anyone, but close enough to remember.  Children still come to the waiting room, but few even know why they are there anymore.  Even in my generation most of the story had been forgotten.  But we keepers are not only keepers of the gift, but the story tied to it.  Our empire quickly collapsed with so many missing warriors and the hardship brought by the giant sacrifice- and the once proud people became isolated and hard-pressed to survive.”

   It took David several moments to realize that the old man was finished.  “So no one has even seen this thing since that first time so long ago?”  The reporter stuck his pencil in his mouth and was chewing on the eraser, hoping to catch a fresh angle.

  “Not that I’ve been told of.  As far as I know only the keeper and the keepers apprentice have been in this room since it has been built.  Except, of course for you.”

  “So why am I here, why did you agree to see me of all people?”

  The keeper thought long and hard for a moment and answered, “I’m not sure if was the right thing to do or not.  Less so now than before I met you.  I didn’t want the story to die, even if my people do.  There are only a handful of us left above and mostly old.  Our children go off to school and never return, or if they do it’s only a brief visit trying to convince their parents life in the city is so much better.”

  David decided to accept this answer for the moment.  “So can I see it?”

  “See what,” the keeper asked before realizing what the reporter was asking.  “Oh yes- I mean no.  You can see the case but I can’t allow you to see the canvas inside.”

  “Guess it will be enough.  And I can take pictures of the case and the statues?”

  “Feel free.  Only I must strongly suggest you keep your distance from the case itself.  I myself find it hard to be within more than a few feet of it.”

  The Keeper pushed his chair back and beckoned for David to do the same.  With stretched legs they crossed the few dozen feet to the large statues and the pedestal while David’s reporting instincts had him shooting off dozens of pictures.

  “Are those the enemy the God of Fire sent for you to fight?”  Asked David, while raising his camera to get a full shot of them.  Terrible creatures they were, that up close seemed more insect like than animal.  Closer still they seemed to lose even a semblance to animals- truly becoming something alien. 

  “Yes.  At least as best as we can tell since no one left alive actually saw them.”

  They stood a full fifteen feet in the air crowned with some blackened carapace that stood out from their naked bodies.  Each hand was stretched outward as if attached to large wings and was studded with six equally space indexes, capped with several inch long talons.  “I hope these aren’t built to scale,” joked David moving across the room to get pictures at different angles.

  “Most likely not, as I said no one left alive had actually seen them.  They only had the terrified yells of the warriors to go on.”  The keeper tried to stay next to David through all this but he was moving around so quickly he found it difficult to keep up.

  “Ooh,” David crooned looking upon the pedestal and spying for the first time the ornament golden case for the cloth.  Precious stones of all sorts lay entrenched in the cover and binding of the box.  He took a quick picture and then bent over for closer examination.  Sliding his hands across the box he noticed it was warm to the touch, and tingly- almost like static electricity.  His heart raced as he smooth his palm against the jewels. 

  “Really, I asked you not to touch the box,” exclaimed the keeper as he finally caught up to David and put one hand upon his shoulder.

  David barely noticed as he felt an overwhelming urge to open the box.  It was glittering before his eyes in dazzling patterns.  He felt extremely alive and euphoric, openly laughing as his eyes and fingers danced upon the coverings.

  The keeper tugged at David’s shoulder harder which momentarily broke David’s entrancement.  “Get off me old fool!” he cried as he shoved the old man backwards several feet hard.  With no more thought to the keeper he wrenched the box open and his eyes fell to the cloth tied down inside.

  The cloth itself was nothing spectacular outside of lasting for so long, the writing however was.  It wasn’t a picture, or even a word.  It wasn’t a diagram or art of some form.  It was only a symbol.  A bright red symbol that seemed to burn as David gazed at it closer.  An impossible symbol that made David thing of M.C. Escher.  It was a spiral that was also a box; as you turned your head, it seemed to shift.  Oddly enough it seemed to reach beyond the thin layer of the fabric and existed as if it was sculptured.  David ran his hands over the symbol standing out and felt them pass through it as something cold and unworldly.  He shivered and realized what he had done.  Quickly shutting the box David turned to see the old man still lying on the ground several feet behind him.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”  David lamented as he struggled to help the old man back to his feet.  He was still confused at what he had done; he had never been a violent sort and couldn’t understand it.

  “It’s not your fault, it’s the boxes fault.  I should have known better than to bring you here.”  The old man looked as if was near to tears as he glanced around the room with his sightless eyes.

  “It’s okay, if you’re okay.  See nothing terrible happened to me.”  David managed a laugh as he helped the Keeper back to the table on the other side of the room.  Still distraught over his actions David sought an excuse to leave.  “I really have stayed longer than I should have, deadlines to meet and that sort of thing.  I appreciate you telling me your story.”  Still feeling bad about pushing the man down he added, “Are you sure you’re okay?  I could get a doctor if you need one.”

  “No, I’m fine.  What you should be worried about is yourself.”  David made a puzzled look.  “Don’t just shrug this off as some fools story.  You saw the symbol, you must have noticed something unusual about it.” 

  The reporter couldn’t argue with that but felt the need to leave even more clear now.  “Well look I’m sorry again, I’ll just take some snap shots of the waiting room and be out of your hair.”

  “Do what you will, young man, but I’m warning you- don’t let them see you watching them” The Keepers voice sounded out firmly.

  “Who?”  David called back from the tunnel leading to the waiting room and finally, outside again.

  “You’ll find out.”  Was the last David heard of the Keeper as he reached the waiting room, stopping for a minute to take pictures of the art he had looked at while waiting for the Keeper.  Still that rush to leave was in him, either from what he had seen or from harming the old man- it compelled him to hurry on up to his car and drive back to the hotel.

Short story I wrote this evening, thought up mostly last night.  I think the ending needs work- it sounded a lot better played out in my mind but I tried to make it perhaps a bit too light versus too serious at times?  And I didn’t expect to use three pages closing the story but I felt the guy deserved a personality at the end.  Sci Fi, bout 8-9 pages typed.  No editing or read through yet. 

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In Servitude (Dec 12,2005)

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  In the dark cold frontier of colonized space, the Tribben IV made it’s near solitary journey.  There was nothing exceptional about either the ship, or her name.  It was a classic cruiser though showing a good deal of wear, in all probability several centuries out of date.  Whenever the space compression drives came on the entire craft seemed to want to shake itself apart until the pleasant white of in between came into view.  The space compression drive itself probably was over several thousand years old, purchased technology from one of the merchant races humankind’s path had crossed.  Humanity had learned to build their own, even improving on the design, but a little cruiser for three hardly deserves modern equipment.  Even the name of the ship was out of date, Tribben- one the first human colonies was a awful little dump of a world- even before its binary star system collapsed in on itself.  Volcanoes had scarred the surface and the colony station had the highest turnover rate in the entire system.  Where there wasn’t molten rock there was vast sulfuric marshes.  What Tribben did have, was an abundance of minerals and was far enough out to help push mankind onward through the galaxy.  Quickly forgotten as humanities ring of influence expanded, it was barely a textbook footnote when the binary stars collided rendering the entire area useless and irradiated.

  Captain Yorrin was stuck with the ship, and the name; he couldn’t have been happier.  A young man of 23, tall with dark features and hair that refused to stay in place, as a recent graduate with an honorary Captains ranking he could not have felt more at peace in a pleasure cruiser.

  “Captain”, Ensign Joyce his third officer and pilot broke his reverie.  She was older than him by two years but they considered each other friends.  In the academy together they were at one time more than friends, but kept it quiet as anything whispered too loud even to oneself would find itself in record somewhere. It was rumored entire moons had been hollowed out to store the vast amounts of data generated daily in this modern age.  If command had heard any inkling of their involvement it would be doubtful they’d see each other again on official assignment, let alone serve together.

  “Yes Joyce?”  The captain looked up to meet his Ensigns gaze as she swiveled her chair around to speak.  The bridge wasn’t completely crowded or without amenities.  Built for long solitary missions it was found practical to make the inside of the ship as comfortable as possible, even if the outside appeared to be salvage.  It’s approximately a hundred square feet with the captain’s seat in about dead center of the room.  To his right and forward sits the pilot’s chair closer to the ring of computers surrounding the concaved viewing screen which doubled as a window if electronics went down or it was otherwise desired.  To his left was the empty chair of the quiet second in command Stevens.  He was afforded the title of officer but Captain Yorrin was certain he’d never served in any official capacity before, unless he was with the government rather than the military.  They were always the quiet types who kept too themselves.

  Joyce’s brilliant blue eyes touched a sensitive spot in the Captains heart every time she looked at him.  He’s conditioned himself against it, but there’s always a moment where she’s laying on his cot with long dark hair spread across her naked flesh providing a most delicate contrast.  Only a moment before his face is made hard, and he only sees his ensign with a message to give him.  “Sir, there is a message marked for captains viewing only.”  Her voice hesitant, at once both deeply inquisitive and professional came out flat, with little hint to what was running through her mind.

  Captain Yorrin glanced up at the unending space before him on the screen.  ‘A communications, and just for me to read,’ Yorrin thought to himself in wonder.  His rank was only honorary- at least until the completion of this mission.  Every cadet who seeks the captain’s chair must go through a trial period of no less than six months Earth time before having it made official.  They were only five weeks out and were truly in the desert of space- there’s no place to divert to.  No planets to land on, no stations to dock at.  ‘It could be war’, though Yorrin, ’war would make even this little junker too valuable for a cadets final exam.’  The thought rang unpleasant between his ears.  Not only would he not get his captainship- he’d be expected to serve under someone else.  ‘Who could we go to war with?’  The only hint of conflict in recent years had come from a race of xenophobes who also oddly enough happened to be scared of the sun.  They were cave dwellers and an unfortunate group of joy seeking spelunkers who first fell upon them.  Their names were pronounced something like the sound of rocks being banged against one another several times over.  War was declared when we told them we came from the surface, but command felt it better not to land on the planet anymore.  Supposedly they had quite an army trained and ready to go, but until they got over their fear of the open sky and sunlight it’s doubtful anyone would actually be injured in the war.  ‘Who else could it be?’  Yorrin could think of no one who actually was likely to make war in the near future.  The space corp trained to be ever ready, there have been several devastating conflicts in the past and they were not willing to repeat that sort of history.  Yet oddly enough, for a galaxy as crowded as the milky way, was turning out to be- peaceful; except for petty criminals and misunderstood business transactions. 

  Captain Yorrin noticed his ensign staring at him so a bit too abruptly stood up and started walking towards his personal quarters.  “Thank you Joyce, I’m sure it’s nothing important.  Probably just checking up on me or maybe saying they made a mistake and I failed astrophysics.”  He chuckled a bit in hopes of lifting his spirit.  Before closing the bridge doors behind him he called, “I’ll tell you about it later over dinner when Stevens on duty if I can.”  The door whished shut in a quick vacuum and outside of the background electronic noise of the bridge, every footfall sounded out as if the entire ship was empty.

  There wasn’t far to walk.  Only four rooms sat between the bridge and the engines.  The two crew quarters were the first to past as he hiked down the corridor.  Before turning into his own Yorrin glanced across at the open door of the recreation/mess hall to wonder if Stevens was inside.  ‘Guy spends way too much time in his own room.  It’s a wonder he passed the psych requirements,” wondered Yorrin near aloud as he opened into his own personal little space. 

  He knew it was larger than the crew’s quarters, and better than he had at the academy- but it still felt cramp quick when thinking of the vastness of space outside.  A short bed is recessed against one wall- met by a desk at one end and a bookshelf at the other.  Under the bed were stashed storage bins for clothing and knickknacks.  Some designer’s idea of a pleasant motif of portraits and paintings lined the walls of people and places Yorrin has never seen, nor cared about.  The only thing of Yorrin’s in the room was a simple picture frame upon the desk showing a family party when he was accepted as a cadet.  Pulling a chair out from under the desk Yorrin made himself comfortable as he opened up the message from command.  By the time he was finished his hand was shaking as he checked to make sure his weapon was still at his side.  The only weapon allowed on ship, the captains- and had to be worn at all times.

  An hour must have passed while Yorrin read and re-read the transmission in hopes it would change before his eyes.  It did not.  Nor did the anxiety of the task before him get any easier.  Noticing the passing of time and that Joyce was probably eating dinner, he made his way across the hallway into the recreation room.

  “Hi ya Cap”, Joyce waved over a plate of steaming vegetables and a tall mug of coffee.  It didn’t take long for her to notice Yorrin was visibly shaken and his right hand seemed to hover over his side arm.  She chose not to say anything while Yorrin took a seat besides her.

  Several long moments passed while Joyce got a mug of coffee for Yorrin and sat back down, looking at her food but not touching it.

  “You now Joyce, I used to always want to be a Captain in the space corp.”  Yorrin began.  Once he started talking, he noticed the drink sitting there.  With a nod of thanks to Joyce, he continued.  “But I’m not sure anymore.”  Another sip.  “I’m thinking of resigning my commission.”  With a sigh Yorrin let his head droop down so as not see the confused look upon his ensigns face.

  “Yorrin, what is it?  What was in that communication that could be so bad?  I know it can’t be combat- you were always saying how you’d love to serve humanity in a real battle.  And if you’re talking about resigning it can’t be anything you’ve done.”

  “No, it’s not something I’ve done,” The Captain let his voice trail off.

  “Well if not you then who?  Certainly not me.”  Joyce almost gasped as the only other possible person onboard came to mind.  “Not Stevens, what could he possibly have done?  Is he up for charges?  Do we have to go back?”

  Yorrin slammed his fist on the table causing plates to rattle and mugs to threaten gravity.  “No damn it all, we don’t have to go back.  He’s not up on charges.”

  “Well what is it then?”  Joyce was more than a little perturbed by the tone Yorrin has never once taken with her before.

  Without apologizing the Captain say back down in his chair and took a deep breath.  “They want me to kill him.”

  Joyce almost laughed, “Come on, you’re putting me on?  There is no way command would just tell you to kill someone in cold blood.  Not if it’s not about mutiny- and Stevens hardly seems the sort to even talk back to a commanding officer, let alone seize his ship.”

  “I’m not making this up Joyce and I have no idea what he’s done.  The communiqué only said two words.  Kill Stevens.  No explanation, no sympathy with what such a command would do to me.  It wasn’t even signed.  Just a general captains only order to kill one of his crew members.”  Yorrin felt separate from the words he was speaking, as if he was telling another person’s story.

  “Well- you can’t do it that’s all.  You’re not the top to kill someone for no reason Yorrin.  You’ll just have to write them back and …”

  “And say what?  That I’m unwilling to follow orders?  That I disagree with them, the minds that have save humanity countless times over since we started exploring space?  That I demand to know exactly what Stevens is excused of before I act on it?  Damn it all Joyce.  I’d have better luck resigning my commission and dealing with a court martial for disobeying direct orders.”

  “He must have done something bad, but certainly command will understand the position they’re putting you in.”  Joyce, always helpful, Joyce, sounded so optimistic that Yorrin’s spirits almost lifted.  Surely command would understand.  He might be knocked down in rank, but they wouldn’t court martial him after all.

  At that moment Steven’s walked into the room so quietly neither Joyce nor Yorrin noticed him. 

  “Geeze guys, what’s up with the long faces?”  Steven’s voice rang out like a gunshot into the room.  His pale complexion, aged face, boney glasses, and overall stumped appearances hardly looked like he could steal candy from a baby let alone pose a threat to the powers that be.

  “Err nothing Stevens,” Joyce answered quickly.  “Captain’s just feeling a bit space sick is all.”

  Yorrin groaned at Joyce’s reply.

  “A captain getting space sick, why doesn’t that just beat all.  Well I’m sorry Captain Yorrin but you just received an urgent message from Command.  I hate to bother you when you’re not feeling well, but you know how command is.”  Steven’s voice almost sounded cheerful compared to his normal docile tones. 

  The captain just nodded his head and stared down at the table again.

  “Well, message delivered.  I had better get back to the bridge, against regulations to have an unmanned bridge for more than a few minutes.”  Steven’s too one more look at the captain, expressing pity in his eyes and fled the room.

  “Yorrin, you can’t do it.  How can you kill that man?”  Joyce was pleading with him but without a solution.

  “What do you suggest Joyce?  Please give me a way out of this and I will, but that message is probably command asking me why the hell I haven’t killed him yet.”  Yorrin pushed himself away from the mess table, leaving Joyce behind and made his way to read his second fortunate transmission of the day.

  Back in his room which seemed to be getting more cramped by the second Yorrin pulled up the second communication and noticed this time it was signed.

  Captain Yorrin, why is Stevens not executed yet.  Kill him immediately and report back to command.

-Admiral Xin

  There was little room for hesitation left in Yorrin.  It would all be over, one way or another in the next few minutes.  This message was directly from the boss, Admiral Xin-leader of all extra-solar space corp units.  The Captain felt a sickly taste in his mouth and realized he had been biting his tongue.  Taking a brief look in the mirror and wiping a few drops of blood from his chin, Yorrin prepared himself to follow his orders.

 

  Joyce, who had returned to the bridge immediately after their argument could see at once what Yorrin was planning.  There wasn’t a murderous rage in his eye’s, or even fear- only the solemn atmosphere that one could imagine hanging over any executioner of old.  His face spoke volumes on the condition of man, and his age-old enemy, himself.

  “No Yorrin.  You can’t, don’t do this!”  Joyce yelled while leaping from her chair and heading towards Stevens.  She was still several feet away from being between the two of them when Yorrin pointed his weapon at Stevens; who was now staring at the Captain. 

  Yorrin said, “Sorry” as his fingers tightened around the grip of his weapon and a brief flash of bluish light erupted and sheered off half of Stevens’ head.

  Joyce fell on top Stevens body and heaved with tears as she turned up to Yorrin and demanded, “Why?” 

  Yorrin could find nothing to say so let Joyce speak. 

  “You monster, I don’t even know who you are anymore.  Damn the command, damn the entire space fleet- and damn you Captain.  No trial, no jury- just a quick military styled execution.  Would you kill me just as easily?”  Joyce was off her feet now and standing before the captain with a raging sadness about her.  “Why don’t you kill me too?  Maybe that was in your orders.”

  While Joyce was yelling at Yorrin, he only half heard her words.  At first it was because he was ashamed at what he had done- but halfway through her diatribe a curious thing was happening.  Stevens face had become waxy and near translucent.  It was as if he was being stretched apart, the skin pulled taunt.  The skin turned blue, then green and back to pale again as almost all facial features sunk inward. 

  “Joyce do you see that,” whispered Yorrin while pointing towards Stevens.

  “See what?  Oh!  What is going on?”  Joyce forgot her anger at the captain for a moment and stared intently at what was Stevens face.  “Does your weapon do that?”

  “No,” Yorrin spoke softly.  “At least I’ve never heard of it doing anything like this before.”

  Stevens entire head had become a giant gelatinous ball and the part that had been cut off by the weapon earlier was slowly filling in.  Creeping along like some wet fluid filling in all open spots until it was perfectly round.  And then it was done.  All evidence of Yorrin’s actions were erased, save for the fact Stevens had no face.  Abruptly Stevens stood up, shook his head a few times and his face popped back out of the gel and looked like his old self again.

  “What the hell,” exclaimed Yorrin as he pushed Joyce behind him and pulled his gun once again on Stevens.  Yet Stevens oddly enough seemed not to notice the gun nor care that he was just shot.

  “Bravo Captain, Bravo!”  Stevens clapped his hands together loudly and wore a bright smile upon his face.  It was as if the world had been turned upside down and all laws of actions and consequences were mixed up. 

  Joyce turned to Yorrin and muttered, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Congratulations on passing your final test.”  Stevens practically beamed as he said the words test.

  “But I shot you.”  Yorrin said shakily, still pointing his weapon as Stevens, or whatever it was.

  “Oh, no worries old chap, no worries.  Nope.  Not a one at all.  There is nothing on this ship that can injure me dear boy.  So congratulations to you. And a very kind thank you, to you, Miss Joyce for carrying on so about me.  Not that it was necessary by any means, but it does one of my several hundred years proud to be thought of so kindly.”  Stevens still stood there talking and smiling up at Yorrin who still held his weapon though not very steady.

  “What are you?”  Asked Joyce.

  “Ah, what I am.  What am I not?  What I am not is an officer as you probably could have guessed when you first met me.”

  Joyce and Yorrin looked towards each other in agreement.

  “I see, I see- that much you had deduced.  What I am is an Alasian.  We are very durable creatures and hired out for specialty work where others might not be so, alive afterwards.”  Stevens paused momentarily and seemed to just notice the weapon still pointed at him.  “You really don’t need that you know, you saw how much good it did the last time.”  Stevens ran his hands across his face, and removed them with a grin.  “Ah well, if it makes you feel better so be it, so be it.  I suppose you’d like to know why you were ordered to kill me?  Don’t look so surprised please.  I came here specifically, to be killed, by you.  And you did a wonderful job.  I didn’t have any doubts and this is probably my twentieth time.  Not that it isn’t painful- but the looks on people’s faces when I stand right up again are priceless.  The moneys pretty good also.”  Stevens stopped again waiting for Yorrin to say or do something.

  It was Joyce who first caught on.  “Yorrin, you get it?  The six months in space wasn’t the final test for your captains chair- this was.”

  “Correct, little human.  Very good.”

  Yorrin felt as if the pit of his stomach was dropping out.  “But I didn’t obey the first order.”  His side arm finally fell to his side and he sat down in the captain’s chair with a sigh.

   “No worries about that Captain Yorrin.  If you had you probably would have failed.  Your human command doesn’t want people too quick to kill their crew you know.  There’s some trite premise about being able to follow orders no matter what, or some such human nonsense.  Especially being alone out in space for months or even years at a time.  Barely anyone gets through the test without eventually killing me, but sometimes I need to set up a mutiny, or a sabotage, or claim to be a murdering alien criminal.  Ha-ha!” 

  Stevens looked around to see if there was anything else to say and pulling himself together started towards the mess hall.  “Captain, and it’s official now and many congratulations I say, your orders are to return to Earth for reassignment.”  Yorrin made the briefest glance towards Joyce.  “And you are expected to pick your own crew, though perhaps it is time for a bigger ship, yes?”  Stevens put his hands on his sides and said, “Well I don’t know about you humans but being killed makes me terribly hungry, I’ll be in the mess hall if you need anything.”  And with that he left the room.

 

   

 

    

Story I wrote this evening, no editing or anything yet just finished it.  There are several larger projects I want to undertake, but I think if I keep dealing with short stories I’ll improve a lot faster.

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Doomsday (dec 11, 2005)

  Like a group of children on Christmas morning the white clad intellectuals could barely sit still.  Whispered voices would reach a fevered pitch and suddenly become quiet again as they discussed what was about to transpire.  These several dozen men and women, the gigantic minds of the time were brought from different nations and backgrounds, the one common thread was their pursuit of knowledge.  Not just any knowledge, but practical knowledge-it was close to being theirs.

  Billions of dollars and years of effort had been poured into this brain pool, an effort normally found only by millionaire villains in comic books seeking power.  Yet these few, even the projects designer Tim, were meek individuals.  Most when seen on the street would be casting their eyes about trying to appear invisible.  In a bar, they were the quiet souls-rapidly departing after a brief drink or two.  Many were single, and those who were married tended to spend time away from home as if that was where the true work lay.  However here, in this dug out cavern far beneath the desert- they were in their element. 

  Papers of all sorts coated the walls, from science to hypothesis and even a few dug out from old science fiction magazines.  Speculations flourished quicker than a bunch of old ladies at gossip- but instead of who was cheating on their husband, these select few were wondering who was cheating on nature.  For truly in this marvelous time these men and woman found they were no longer a part of the scenes they were witnessing, as any good gossip or people watcher would share.  They held themselves apart from their research, as any good scientist should.  Though several bets had been tabled at the outcome of the experimental run- it was science itself unfolding, the wonders of the universe- and one could no more put claim a physical impact on it than one could state they set the sun to burn or the stars to shine.

   A hollowed electronic voice reverberated betwixt the uneven cavern walls, etched so painfully by thunderous gas machines before even the first scientist who would learn to call this place home set foot inside.  “Test Run in 5 minutes and counting,” the artificial sounds felt right in place here.  A whirring that may have been a helicopter engine erupted first in one corner of the complex, quickly followed by several more until the scientists voices themselves were drowned out.  Lights were dimming in and out as a quiet remind for the people to get to their stations.  It didn’t take long for this was the moment they had been waiting for.  Humankind’s first mimicry of the forces of the universe, our first sight into a chapter of the unknown that had been guesswork for the past century.  Each of their names would go down in history books.

  They called it the Sudden Matter Condenser.  A long project of just putting together the arrayed particle colliders, super coolant chambers utilizing both gas and powerful magnets and a chunk of super heavy barely stable mass.  Then came all the recording equipment to make certain that their success would be documented, or their failure.  None of the scientists were thinking of failure now, they knew it was possible- it had been done before; though not like this.  For the past decade people had created black holes many times over, though never on demand or long lasting enough to actually record.  Those who tried likened it to watching a pot of water boil, no matter how long they stood and stared they refused to form.  This machine, the sudden matter condenser, will not only create black holes, but hold them in one spot long enough to be studied.  No one knew exactly how long it would exist for, the scientists pool ranged from the time it took for light to cross over a hydrogen atom to three minutes (most bets were at the low end).  The equipment was ready for even the shortest glimpse of the human made black hole, and they would all find out.

   It was such an odd group of people, beyond just being scientists.  Two were theologians who argued night and day about the meaning of black holes.  One felt they were messages left behind by God from the creation of the universe, another felt they were a mistake in the grand scheme of things- undoing the Lord’s work.  There was one man who believed that black holes didn’t exist, and what we thought were black holes were nothing more than variable speeds of light- he was one of the most dedicated of the group, hoping to finally get the recognition he deserved.  It wasn’t only tied to what black holes actually were, but what they could be.  Arguments ranged from new power sources, to new construction materials and even as far as anti gravity and faster than light travel.  It was as if all the limitations of physics had vanished and the future of humankind was wide open.

  The lights dimmed even more, and the whirring of distant engines reached a whining that seemed to increase with each piece of metal it danced over.  Everyone was so intent upon their work that they hardly dared to breath.  As solemn as a particular churches holiday the room was devoid of any sound of man, save for the steady speakers voicing how much time they had left for the test to run.  It wasn’t long now.  At one minute there was no more work to be done, everything had been set up and all there was to do was wait.  At thirty seconds a few could no longer hold their breath and with rapid gasps and the stares of their colleagues they glanced down at their feet.  At ten seconds, the concentration on the scientist’s foreheads could be read as they followed the clock down to zero.

  Suddenly excitement burst through the room as joyous cries of we did it broke the silence.  From some dusty cabinet glasses of champagne were found and poured to the point of overfilling for the people still at work calculating the data coming in.  It was clear that a black hole had been formed as a brief siren flashed over one of the display monitors, though it would take some time to get all the information in.  A new dawn of human kind was upon us, black holes at our fingertips, on demand. Of course it could one day be used as a weapon perhaps- but that was in the far future and the intent of these scientists were of the noblest of purposes.

  Tim, the project leader hankered down next to a short haired, dark skinned woman at one of the terminals flashing data that would be meaningless until it could be analyzed.  “So, Sue- who won the bet.  How long did our little pet black hole last for,” Tim sounded out joyously.  He had been down for a cool minute but was so elated he could care less about winning the pool.

  Sue for one reason was not as happy as Tim.  She sat there muttering to herself, occasionally bringing up some new menu.  Apparently not noticing Tim had been talking to her.

  “I say Sue, what is it?  This is no time for typing away, let the computers deal with it and join me for a glass of champagne.”  Tim was already trying to push a glass into her hands which she simply let fall to the ground with a crash.

  Sue turned up to face Tim with wide eyes and a look of deepest consternation littering her brow.  “It’s still there.  The black hole- it’s still stable.”

  “That’s impossible Sue, not for this long,” Tim glanced over at a large wall clock on the far side of the room.  “It’s been eight minutes and however odd seconds.”

  “I know it’s impossible!”  Sue stated loudly enough for other people to hear who found it interesting enough to walk over.  “That still doesn’t change that it’s happening.  Look there, look at that you can clearly see it for yourself.”  Sue pointed at a corner of her display, and it filled to fit the whole screen at her gesture.  It was the inside of their machine, right at the core of their super heavy matter- and though they could not see it directly, there was no mistaken the absence of light at the shells core.

  “My god!”  Exclaimed Tim not quite realizing the full ramifications of what they had done yet.  Turning away as if in a sleep walk, project director Tim did his duty and contacted the political leaders who had funded the project.

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  It took several days for the brass to arrive looking self important and dismayed, followed by the men in suits concerned with the cost of this whole mess.  They looked around at the mess, grown from hours of sleepless work from the scientists attempting to discern what had gone wrong with their project.

  “So what type of mess are we in, Mr. Johnson?”  One of the generals asked the project director as if it was something that could simply be washed away.

  “General sir, the black hole is still stable and is unlikely to go away on its own … “, Tim hesitated dreading the next words that would come out of his mouth.  “In fact sir, it seems to be growing.”  His words became increasingly quiet as he let slip that one piece of information that would mark the end of his career.

  “Growing!”  Yelled several voices at once as several of the politicians stepped back as if that would make a difference.

  “No, no sirs,” Tim tried to say in his most reasonable voice.  “There’s really no need to worry.”  This seemed to make the gathered elite worry even more.  “It’s growing very slowly.  I doubt it would even be visible to the naked eye for more than a century.”

  “And then?”

  “Well, it will keep growing.  Yet I’m sure something can be done about it one day.  Just look how far we’ve come in the past … “ Tim caught himself waving his hands around at the exact underground facility that caused this mess and stopped himself.  “Err, at any rate.  It won’t even be noticeable directly above this facility for a thousand years.  And it will be well near several millennia before it will pose a threat to earth.”

  The general just kept staring at Tim waiting for him to continue.

  “Well, in about 20,000 years it will destroy the earth and a few thousand years after that it will start to consume the solar system.  But really, I’m sure we’ll discover a way to stop it long before then.”

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  The entire project center was mothballed not a month later with no word to the press of the ticking time bomb laying a mere mile underground.  Several meters of cement were haphazardly laid over the entire site with the official explanation being a radiation leak.  The scientists found themselves in a variety of isolated positions, away from the press and each other.  Each was told it was a matter of national security and if anyone breathed a word, even to a family member, they would find themselves even more isolated than they had become.  They were assured it was possible and perfectly legal.  Everything seemed to be okay.  New advances in science occurred daily and it was certainly only a matter of time before humanity learned to deal with its folly.

  Fifty years later World War Three broke out, over some minor regional dispute it quickly brought to life past bitterness that erupted into all out merciless war.  Nuclear devices were exchanged as well as several new anti- matter weapons that leveled entire armies as if they were dust in the wind.  There was no peace to this war, as by the time the damage was complete there were no governments to make peace with.  All electronics worldwide had been damaged beyond repair by weapons with that purpose intended.  Radioactive fall out laid waste to the cities- the only ones who survived were those already left out of the development race of humanity.  The small towns on the fringe of nations, the undeveloped regions of the world will people lived as much as they could as their ancestors did.  There was no end to the war, it was neither won nor lost.

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  A thousand years later a young boy clothed in a short cloth went hiking several miles away from his village as a passage to manhood.  He stumbled upon some unusually hard rocks that upon closer examination extended for several thousand feet. Not one to leave curiosity alone the young boy climbed up atop what was once known as cement covered by several inches of dust and sought to discover the secrets of this unusual place.  Ruins were well known to his people, who spoke of the past as if it was to be forgotten.  The old ways are the best ways were repeated down from grandfather to grandson.  Once, the young boy had found a box that would create light when it was held a certain way in one city ruins and hurried home to show his father.  Thinking himself clever, he did not expect his father to take the machine out back and smash it into small pieces with a rock.  The old ways are the best ways.  As the boy trod on he noticed his walking stick was behaving unusually.  He was not a water douser and was sure his stick would make a poor device for such endeavors, but it felt like it was being pulled down, down towards what the boy could not even dream of.

 

I’ve decided I watch so many movies that I’ll try to provide brief reviews of the ones I’ve seen.  If I have time i’ll do it once a week but this first one will extend back a few weeks.  I hate the movie theaters so rarely go so most of these will be DVDs.

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Bewitched 5/10 :  a movie about a movie about a t.v. show.  The premise was confusing, Will Farrell was too goofy to be Darren.  It would have made more sense if they didn’t make all the other family members behave like they’re traditional characters.  Not a total wash but I found myself pausing the movie several times to do something else- and I did enjoy the original series.  I just hope if they do I dream of Jeannie they do a better job and stick with the original story.

Steam Boy 9/10:  Excellent anime set in the 1860’s during the age of invention.  Rated pg-13 for animated violence but I would find it appropriate for younger children.  The story follows a new ’steam’ based invention that was entrusted to a mans grandson to keep it away from those who would use it for war.

Finding Neverland 9/10:  Almost a 10, this drama is based on the times and life surrounding the creation of the original Peter Pan story.  Deeply moving it is hard not to feel for the characters in the story.  It is not a happy story, but it is a heartfelt one.

War of the Worlds 2005 8/10: I preferred the original.  The story follows that of a divorced father trying to save his children and get them to a safe area.  Though the characters had strong personalities- this seemed to detract from the alien invasion.  At points I felt like I was watching one of the Living Dead movies.  It was not exceptionally memorable and added nothing new to the original except for more special effects.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire 8/10:  Confusing if you haven’t read the books.  Rated pg-13 for violence but I think that was a bit of a stretch.  The children are somewhat involved with dating which is what I think really got it the pg-13 rating.  A lot was left out, SPEW and Weasleys gags- as such some of the story had to be changed to keep the original story moving along.  Definately a fun movie if you’ve read the books, but if you haven’t be ready to be left going ‘huh’?  This will probably become common for any new movies when they squeeze 800 page books down to two and a half hours.

The Cube Zero:  (6/10)  If you’ve seen either of the other two cube movies and enjoyed them feel free to add a few points to my score.  This takes place a short period of time before the original The Cube and explains a good deal (though not enough) of what’s going on.  It’s a prequel and made me want to watch the cube movies over again.  The movie is very violent and gorey.  The Cube, is basically a large labrinth of cubes people are thrown into after having their memories erased.  Some of the rooms are booby-trapped with deadly devices.  Those that are thrown into the cube try to get across to find the edge of the cube.  Each room has exits in the middle of each of their faces.  The Cube Zero probably would not appeal to anyone who has not seen the movies before.

Radio (7/10):  Based on a true story and as such is well told, however it is not always easy to relate with the characters.  It is only halfway through the movie that you find the Coaches motivation for caring for the mentally challenged boy.  There are numerous ‘threats’ against Radio but they are never really spelled out, just loose possibilites that are never really faced in the movie.  There are still several poignant moments where you can relate with Radio but it seemed that a lot of the story was missing while instead they focused on the sports teams with Radio’s story as a side note.

Deuce Bigalow European Gigalo (6/10):  A somewhat amusing comedy set for the most part in Amsterdam.  It’s raunchier than the first movie and there were a few laughs but it seemed to lose the reedeming qualities of most Happy Madison productions.  Not a horrible sequel but definately not in the vein of 50 first dates.  Jokes about homosexuality, unwitting pot use, americans and the war in iraq, and using public streets as restrooms.

Taxi (8/10): Queen Latifah and Jimmy Fallon make an amusing duo in this action comedy.  Latifah, is a taxi driver who has a problem obeying speed limits.  Fallon is a bungling police officer who could crash a car without starting it.  The story follows the pair meeting and going after bank robbers to redeem Jimmy Fallons position in the police force.

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GAMES

Disgae Hour of Darkness (9/10):  Tactical RPG in the vein of Orgre Battle and Final Fantasy Tactics.  The game is similar to Phantom Brave with an amusing comical story that has no difficulties poking fun of itself.  A large range of possibilities in this game, from tons of playable characters (monsters and people alike), leveling up equipment, a senate that you need to petition for rank or more expensive items and than the game itself makes for a lot of game play.  The dialogue at time is a bit mature in a goofy way ( pokes fun at the main characters difficulty being around attractive females).  The main character is lord of the underworld and rules over demons- or at least tries to.  At times the difficulty level progresses rapidly and one most go back to earlier stages to get their characters leveled up.  If you enjoy non serious tactical RPG’s this is a great game, if you like Phantom Brave you will love this (the random dungeons are instead used to level up items with a difficulty based on the item levels).  PS2. 

Star Wars Battle Front 2 (7/10):  Great looking game but with a harsh difficulty at points.  I haven’t gotten far in the game but even early on I found myself at several points I could not pass.  Landing on the deck of an enemy ship leaves me crashing into the side half the time and unable even to get on with the mission.  If you have a lot of patience and enjoyed the first this game is for you, as for me I don’t enjoy playing the same scene that takes 10 minutes over and over again unless it’s a major turning point.  PS2

Civilizations IV (9/10):  Great continuation of the Civilizations series but with a number of changes that may leave people irked.  First, you need a graphics card to play this game due to the pixel shader requirements.  The game looks good and the abilities of the workers have been drastically increased.  However, I find that it’s far easier just to automate my workers than direct them since they can make dozens of new improvements that I quickly lost track of.  The need for diverse troops are greater in this edition since the strengths and weaknesses of forces play off each other similar to paper-rock-stone.  Even though they have a basic attack rating, your troops have bonuses versus specific enemies.  A 12 attack granadier can readily take out a 15 attack riflemen because they have a 50% attack bonus versus riflemen.  The game also seems much shorter this time around and can be played out in 3 hours to a victory.  You also have more selections now than just selecting a type of government which has a lot to do with gameplay.  Religion is also in the game and can help or hamper your relations with other powers (other religions will consider you misguided pagans).  A worthwhile addition to the Civiliations turned based strategy series but may leave a few players left in the dust (if it runs on their older computers).