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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Science Fiction
- Subject: Adventure
- Published: 05/24/2018
Upon a Darkside Rising
Born 1956, M, from Orlando/FL, United StatesUpon A Darkside Rising
By
Wilber Arron
“Imperial Airship GB-107, arriving from London at Sky-port Two,” the loudspeaker bellowed out. “Persons meeting arriving passengers, please go to the Arrival Hall to await baggage unloading and customs clearance. Thank You.”
Jeffery Ascott-Spaulding, Captain in Her Majesty’s 1st Regiment of Foot, rode the large elevator up to the second floor Arrival Hall. He arrived only two hours ago from Shanghai in a similar airship and was waiting for his partner in the Arrival Lounge.
Despite the arrivals, there were not many people around. Since the Tanganyika Accident three years ago, when an old hydrogen airship exploded and killed forty-three people, the demand for airship travel had dropped to half of what it was beforehand. Even though they eliminated the need for hydrogen with the new Cavorite process and the Edison electric drive, most people were still not comfortable with the idea of careening through the atmosphere at two hundred miles an hour. It was, however, the very fastest way to travel, unless you enjoyed the prospect of being shot into space using Victor Barbicane’s huge gun.
The second floor was a marvel of modern construction. All glass and steel, it looked almost transparent. It was wide open to the bustling harbor of San Francisco. In the distance, he could see the new granite and marble buildings of the port complex that replaced those destroyed in the Martian Invasion. While studying the new construction, he heard a familiar voice.
“Henry,” the female voice called out. He turned and saw a beautiful woman dressed in a tight-fitting cream-colored dress walking toward him: a smile on her face, and a gleam in her bright green eyes. He walked quickly to her and kissed her passionately, yet in a publically acceptable manner. She returned the affection.
“Well, my darling, did you enjoy your trip?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” she seemed to bubble over. “We flew over the north pole; it took us two days to get here. It was marvelous, Henry. Uncle Albert sends his regards.”
That was the code phrase he was looking for. “Yes, I am glad he is over that gout of his,” which was his code phrase. Hell, they knew each other, what was the point. He saw little sense in some of the cloak and dagger details of their business.
He took her arm and they both walked toward the baggage check station. Two twenty-five-pound airship trunks with their names on them were already there, the maximum allowed to First Class airship passengers. He claimed them and then got two porters to take them downstairs. They presented their passports to the customs agent. He had to remind himself that neither of their passports contained their right names. The somewhat bored looking customs officer examined their documents carefully. He nodded and spoke in an official, yet lackluster voice.
“Mr. and Ms. Parker, all seems in order. Enjoy your stay in the United States.”
Since the British Foreign Office issued both false passports, he did not think there'd be any problems.
He nodded his approval. They passed their way to the street where the porters placed their bags in what looked to be a Hansom cab replica.
“Union Pacific Station,” he told the driver. He paid the porters well, but not extravagantly; then helped his alleged wife inside the cab with its red leather seats.
They both got in, the driver gave a crack of the whip, and off they went. He looked to her for some clue of what was going on, but she sat in silence and mentioned only what she saw out the window like any tourist would. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Union Pacific station. He paid the driver and paid another porter with a cart to take their trucks to the luggage car for the Salt Lake City express. Although their train did not leave for an hour, they went on board to get out of public view.
As he walked past the new Pacific Dominator engine, he stopped for a second to admire it. This new marvel of steam technology was twice as big as the previous engines he had seen in America and could run at nearly twice the speed, nearly seventy miles per hour. The boilers were made with the new Martian steel that Carnegie learned to produce. The new construction would allow operating pressures much higher than before. The 4-8-4 construction could keep a sure grip on the Krupp rails as they climbed the mountains. They would no longer need a booster engine to get over the Sierra Nevada’s.
They moved slowly to the First-Class Pullman car. It was located two cars from the dining car and next to the parlor car. Thankfully it was still well away from the Second Class and steerage cars the American underclasses used. The former colonists were no better off than their British counterparts, but they refused to acknowledge it, or even show respect to their betters. There was an arrogance to the Americans he frankly couldn’t stand. That is why he did not like coming to the States. He showed the conductor their tickets and they were shown to one of six staterooms in the Pullman for the overnight trip.
Pamela (her real name) got close to both the car porters and other people nearby before going into their cabin. Once inside, he locked the door, pulled the window drapes shut, and looked around the small room. Instantly, Pamela got down on her hands and knees and started to smell around. He went looking for any unusual holes or other devices that could be used for listening. After two minutes, he helped Pamela up and they both sat down on the same couch and started to whisper to each other.
“I did not smell that anyone else has been in our cabin except the two porters,” Pamela reported. She then went back and started to undo her tight-fitting dress. “I cannot believe that your English ladies allow themselves to be imprisoned in these clothes. You can hardly move in them. I will take a leather coverall the sailors wear in my father’s corsair fleet any day. If you do not mind, I want out of this damn corset.”
He didn’t mind at all. He helped her out of the dress and then the corset. That left her clothed in a simple chemise. She then stretched out on the opposite seat.
“Ahhhh, much better,” she moaned. She looked at him with a smile, “You’ve had that sour grapes look on your face since I first saw you. What is the problem?”
She wanted to know so he told her bluntly. “I do not like being pulled out of Shanghai in the middle of a case. Neyland Smith and I had just made some important progress in Fu Manchu’s plot to replace the Dowager Empress. Now he has to do it himself.”
“He is capable,” she said. “Besides, Admiral Hall is sending him some help.”
“It will be a hell of a lot worse if Fu Manchu succeeds,” he went on. “You think we have problems in China now, wait until that crafty old bastard takes control. Now, what here is so damn important that you have to fly me halfway around the world on a moment’s notice?”
Pamela sat up and leaned forward so she would not have to talk as loud. She also changed her speak to her native and obscure Pellucidarian language only a few outsiders like he knew. “I talked to Mycroft in Whitehall four days ago. About a month ago, Jane and John showed up at the Foreign Ministry with a tale that scared everyone. It seems like someone penetrated the upper Congo River unseen by us, somehow got into the city of Zinj, and stole a large amount of Rutherford Crystals from the royal mines. King Zubu attacked with his warriors, but the invaders had modern weapons and slaughtered the natives and killed Zubu. They then disappeared without a trace. Zubu’s son and heir, Cabu, got a hold of John and Jane in Upper Rhodesia and they came to us as fast as they could. Mycroft got his brother to look at it. At first, we thought it was the Germans, but it did not add up. After some investigation, Mycroft’s brother discovered it was the Austrians.”
He nodded; he had heard about Austrians vanishing in the night before. “Most likely they did it by airship,” he said. “During the Martian Invasion, they painted several airships black, put heavy mufflers on the engines, and did night raids on the Martian camp when they occupied Wein. The Martians had all sorts of trouble spotting them. The Austrians eventually saw the bastards off.”
“Why the Austrians?” Pamela wanted to know. “Not your aggressive types like the Germans.”
He had a fairly good idea. “Before the invasion, the Austrians got beaten badly by the Germans and Von Moltke. They got kicked out of the German Confederation and lost their influence with the other German states. After the Franco-Prussian War, it became obvious who was going to dominate Central Europe. Germany then got hit a lot harder by the Martians than Austria did. I think good old Franz Joseph saw this as a chance to get even. If he has enough Rutherford Crystal to make half a dozen projectors, he can incinerate the German Army on the field. All that new Krupp artillery would be useless. After the Germans, they could take on anyone, even us.”
“So that’s what Mycroft meant when he said it could alter the balance of power,” Pamela added.
“Now what does that have to do with me being here in the former colonies?” he asked.
“The Austrian in charge, Count Ernest von Bladenburg, is here in the United States. The Austrians didn’t set up their lab up in Europe; too dangerous and hard to deny. We found out they have a place north of Lake Tahoe in the middle of nowhere where they are experimenting with the crystals far away from prying eyes.”
“I know this guy,” he said. “He is their chief henchman and an all-around nasty fellow. Shoot him on sight,” he suggested.
“That is about it,” Pamela said going back to relaxing on the couch.
“Makes sense,” he said calmly. “We are going to do a search and destroy?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “Both John and Jane are already here.”
At least they will have good help. “What about the Americans?” he wanted to know. “Have we told them?”
“Foreign Service told President Cleveland who told the U. S. Secret Service. Being a European power, they just as soon let us handle it, but they are providing support.”
Then the locals would not bother them. Good, he hated having some bailiff breathing down his neck after he did a job.
“So we get off at Tahoe?” he asked.
Pamela shook her head no. “We stay on at Tahoe; too easy to watch and someone might know you. No, the train will be slowed by work near a trestle about twenty miles outside of Tahoe, we jump off and meet John and Jane under the trestle.”
That seemed to take care of it. “Anything else?” he asked.
“Well it is about fifteen hours before we get there,” Pamela said with an open grin. “And I have not seen you for now for almost two years.”
He motioned her into the cabin’s powder room and rang for the porter. The middle age black man in an immaculate navy-blue uniform of the Pullman Company came almost at once.
“My wife and I will have dinner in our room,” he told the man. “May I ask you to prepare our cabin for the night?”
The porter rang for his assistant and in a couple of minutes, the two seats were converted into beds. He nodded his approval.
“For dinner, my wife and I will have Porterhouse steak, medium for me and medium rare for the wife. Also, we will have the red potatoes, baby corn, chocolate truffle, and a bottle of your best red.”
“Yes, Sir, Mr. Parker,” the porter said. He gave both porters two dollars and they went on their way.
After he was sure they were all gone, he knocked gently on the powder room door. Pamela came out minus the chemise. She still had the best female body of any woman he ever knew. She helped him undo his coat and tie.
# # #
The sun would be up in about three hours. They had left the Tahoe station twenty-five minutes ago and he could already feel the train slowing. He was dressed in a dark pullover and Pamela was dressed in her loose-fitting corsair uniform. No one else was up. They stood at the end of the car and waited for the train to slow before they both jumped off. They slid down the hill about ten yards before they recovered their footing and slowly picked their way down the hill until they stood under the trestle, next to a small stream. No one else appeared to be around which put him on his guard.
“To thy own self be true,” he heard a female voice call from above followed quickly by the sound of a Winchester rifle having a round put in its chamber.
“And as sure as night follows day, thou cannot be false to any man,” Pamela said aloud.
For a few seconds nothing happened, then almost by magic a woman appeared from the darkness noiselessly and pointing a Winchester at both him and Pamela. She was dressed in a two-piece leopard skin loincloth and top that did not hide much of her beautiful figure.
“Hello Jane,” he said in a low voice. “Been a few years since those ivory poaches on the Upper Congo.”
“Yes,” she said. She came up and kissed both Pamela and him on the cheek.
“I have the horses and mules tied up about two miles away. I have a campsite there. John does not want us to travel in daylight. These woods are not as empty as they seem.”
“Lead on,” Pamela told her and they all quietly marched from under the trestle and up into the thick forest.
They stayed low and away from the horizon, traveling in the trees and making as little noise as possible. He saw the first rays of morning as they got to a small clearing near a babbling brook and waterfall. Inside the clearing were two mules, four horses, four saddle packs on the horses, and two large packs on the mules. The waterfall was noisy; it would help drown out any sound the animals or they might make.
“John says we travel at night,” Jane told them. “We found their camp, it is about a two-night journey from here. John is still there to reconnoiter the place. Whoever is there has hired about a dozen Apache warriors as long-range patrol. John marked a trail we should follow. It should avoid the patrols.”
“Where did you get the animals and the equipment?” Pamela asked.
“An old prospector met us out here. He got fairly close before John found him. He was wearing makeup, but it was good makeup. He said he left a note for you in the saddle bag of the big bay. After we took the equipment, he disappeared.”
He walked over to examine the horses. Although not a cavalryman, the horses looked stout and well looked after. There were no brands on any of the horses or mules so you could not tell where they came from. The horses were western quarter horses and they looked well picked out. They were also all geldings and had western tack. He went over to the big bay and looked in the saddlebag. Sure enough, there was a letter. There was enough daylight now to read it without a lamp.
“I got these from our own private herd. They are well mannered. I also packed the equipment I think you will need for the job. Afterwards, there is a spur track about fifteen miles north of the compound. It is near a place called Sandy’s Ridge that I marked on the map. It was used by lumber companies before the invasion. Jim and I will have the train parked there starting on the eighteenth and will be there for four nights. The new moon is on the nineteenth. We will have a small diversion planned that night at about 2:00 AM. That is when I would make my move. That is as far as we can go on this one, orders from above. Best of luck.”
A.G.
“Thank you, old friend,” he said aloud. He looked at his watch. Today was the sixteenth. They'd be there on the eighteenth. That would give them one day to plan the assault on the nineteenth. This was cutting it fine, but doable.
He spent the early part of the day unpacking the containers and examining the contents. Inside were four Smith and Wesson 45 double action pistols, three 1886-model Winchester rifles, enough ammunition to start a small war, dynamite and the latest mechanical and chemical detonators. Included were three Bowie knives, four sets of throwing knives, and four Arkansas toothpicks for close up use. Added to this was hemp rope, muffled grappling hooks, and a beautiful longbow with arrows. John was a legendary shot with that. There was ready to eat food for a week, oats for the horses, shielded lamps, and a detailed map of the area. A four-person portable shelter completed the kit. He made sure both Pamela and Jane had a 45, Winchester, and knives. In the afternoon they all rested until the sun was down and then he let Jane lead the way.
They had the horses and mules go in pairs and lead them on foot. Too easy to see a person on horseback even at night. He was glad Jane was in front because he missed at least a third of the trail makers John had left them. He would have been hopelessly lost by midnight. Instead, two hours before dawn they came to an opening in the forest. In front of the clearing was a small ridge. Jane called them forward.
“We need to cross the open space and go to the left of the ridge,” she whispered. “The compound in on the right side and that is where all the patrols are. Near the compound is a place we can get the animals across the ridge to the other side. John will meet us there. Now we must hurry.”
They moved quickly but quietly out into the open and toward the left side of the small ridge. He looked around, but he could see or hear nothing. He had to remind himself that the Apaches, like the Afghans, were past masters of moving undetected. There could be half a dozen Indians looking at them right now and he would not know it. Neither Jane nor Pamela, who were both better than he at spotting unwanted attention, said nothing. At the first crack of light, they stopped and made a cold camp. He unloaded the animals and fed and watered them from a nearby stream before taking the early watch.
After an uneventful day, they moved off at dark along the lower ridge where the ground was still mostly flat but remained heavily forested. Again, Jane found their path and guided them until it was just past midnight. She stopped and pointed to some trees. It was hard to see, but there was a gap they could lead the animals through. Just as they entered, a Man dressed only in a simple lion skin loincloth and wearing a leather belt with a long hunting knife appeared from the shadows. It startled him for a second, but he knew the man instantly. He silently came up to them and hugged and kissed Jane passionately. He walked back to him and held out his hand.
“Jeff,” he said in a low voice.
“John,” he said and shook the hand firmly. He then kissed Pamela on the cheek.
“We need to talk,” John told them in a whisper. “Something is happening here and I did not want you all walking into it,”
“What is going on?” Pamela asked.
“We aren’t alone here.”
They moved back a bit from the top of the hill before John pulled them all together.
“Last night after midnight I heard a dull engine noise from behind the ridge. I went to the top and saw a large hydrogen airship painted jet black and almost invisible to the eye approach the back side of the ridge flying very low. The ridge hid them from the Austrian camp. They did not land but instead dropped ropes and about ten small people descended from the ship and fanned out. The airship turned around and went back the way it came. I got a good look at them during the daylight. They were Kalahari bushmen. They went after the Apaches but not until late afternoon. As far as I can see, they killed them and lost a few of their own. Not a shot was fired. A little while ago I saw three other old-style airships approach and land in the open plain about four miles away. They did it silently, no motors running. They landed and what looked to be maybe fifty men left the ships and started toward the compound. All done very quietly and raised no alarm inside the Austrian camp. That is when I left. I did not want you walking into this.”
“The airships landing silently,” he repeated. “Well they are not us, and I doubt the Americans are behind it. To land three old type airships silently requires skill and daring. Are you sure it was Kalahari bushmen?” he asked John.
“Positive, I snuck in there for Mycroft a few years ago to spy on a new fort the Germans were building in Southwest Africa. One of the few times in my life I was spotted and chased. These natives are good and they are killers, but I never knew them to be mercenaries. The Germans do not treat the natives that well.”
“Well, we are not going to walk into someone else’s battle,” he said.
“Let us take the equipment, get to the top of the ridge and look,” Pamela suggested. “One thing for sure, the Austrians will not expect another attack from a different party.”
“Crack,” came a sharp piercing noise of a rifle shot from over the top of the ridge. It was soon followed by others in rapid succession. The party has begun in the compound.
Then there was a loud “PHOOM” followed quickly by an explosion.
“Field artillery,” he told them. “Most likely a small mountain pack howitzer. The Germans are serious.”
The rifle firing and cannon fire increased. Soon he heard the distinct and rapid fire of Gatling guns. This was followed by a series of larger explosions. He could hear yelling and more firing. Suddenly staying behind a hundred yards of dirt seemed a good idea.
They heard it before they saw it. A dull muffled roaring noise of an engine coming from overhead and in front of them. Then they spotted them. In the sky moving toward them out of the west and coming over their side of the ridge; two black shapes hard to see against the dark sky. It was two black airships approaching the compound from behind the cover of the ridge. They came in very low, almost scraping the trees growing from the top of the ridge. As soon as they were over the compound, he saw them suddenly shoot up in the air like they just released a great weight.
“BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM,” thundered in a chain explosion.
Then he saw it; a pale blue beam shoot upward from behind the ridge. The hill blocked sight of the two airships, but he saw the beam arc across the sky followed by two bright flashes of light and two explosions.
“That is a projector firing,” he said. “Most likely at the airships. Those two explosions were their hydrogen being set alight.”
The flashes were followed moments later by a loud crashing noise. After that, there was utter silence for maybe ten seconds. Then what sounded like loud shouting, closer to panic yelling much louder than before. His German was poor, but he definitely caught someone screaming “Schnell!” at the top of his lungs.
He turned to look at John who was as confused as he was at the turn of events. He was about to ask him what he thought when the ground shook from underneath him. Above him, along the entire top of the ridge, there was a blinding white light intermixed with blue and green streaks. The brightness was so intense, it blinded him. He lost his night vision. The next second they got hit by a loud thunderclap that knocked them all off their feet. He found himself tossed senseless onto the ground like a discarded rag doll. He tried to recover but couldn’t hear or see a thing.
“Stay still” John yelled out, “Wait until you get your night vision back.”
He blinked hard several times thinking he was permanently blinded when objects started to take form. It was like all the bells in Saint Paul’s started ringing in his head. He felt dizzy and for a while utterly helpless. A little while later he pulled himself together.
“Everyone alive?” he called out.
“I cannot see or hear much,” John said quietly.
“I am in one piece and not much more,” Jane said.
“I am together, more or less,” Pamela added.
Sometime later things started to take shape around him and he started to hear birds crying in alarm. He finally got to his feet.
“By the fifty-three demons, what the hell was that,” Pamela cursed still holding her hands over her eyes.
“The crystals,” he realized. “It has to be the crystals. Once they charge them fully, if the energy regulator is destroyed or it gets hit by something, it can explode. Pierre Curie once warned me he thought the explosion of a large, fully charged crystal, might be apocalyptic.”
“He got that right,” Pamela added
“Smoke,” John called out.
They looked around and then Jane pointed to the top of the ridge. They all looked up to see the tops of the trees fully ablaze. The ridge crest was an inferno.
“We have to leave,” he said loudly. “If that fire comes down the ridge, the German won’t be the only ones incinerated.”
They all ran down the hill as best they could. When they got to the place they tethered the horses and mules, they were all gone. The explosion scared them off. Their equipment and personal things were scattered all over. They spent about two minutes picking up what they could carry.
“We need to go north, quickly,” he told them. “Someone is waiting for us next to Sandy’s Ridge. The map is gone with the bay but I remember it.”
No one argued; they all moved as quickly as possible. John and Jane took the lead. Behind them, the fire was burning down the ridge. The wind was out of the west blowing against the bright yellow flames, so they did not travel quickly. By dawn, they had out-paced the fire and came to the end of the ridge. There was open space between them and Sandy’s Ridge he could see in the distance. There was one other thing he saw. In the large open space were two long black cigar vessels. One was leaning on its side with many men around it.
John reached into his bag and took out a small telescope and looked. “Looks like they are working on the engines. We can cross to Sandy’s Ridge, but they will see us for sure.”
“We can give them a wide berth; they have bigger problems than us to worry about; although I would like to talk to them to see what happened.”
Pamela looked at him as if he was daft. “After last night they may not be in a talkative mood.”
“Let us get within about two miles near the trees on the other side of the field. That should show them we don’t have hostile intent. I will then signal them and ask to talk. If they try and come out to get us, we can lose ourselves in the trees.”
“And if they take you, prisoner?” Pamela asked.
“Then you get to Mycroft and tell him what happened,” he told them. “I am quite sure if we threaten to tell the Austrians who did this, that should give them enough reason to leave me alone. They are supposed to be allies.”
They moved in daylight into the large open field and walked near the tree line as far away from the Germans as possible. No doubt they got the German’s attention; several soldiers set up a perimeter and watched them closely. When they got closest to the Germans, they stopped and he took out his small shaving mirror from his personal kit. Using International Morris, he identified himself and asked permission to approach and talk alone. At first, there was nothing, so he repeated his message and again there was no reaction from the Germans except to put more men onto the perimeter. Finally, a man came out and someone flashed a message saying they'd meet him halfway. The man that walked out was elderly and had a slight limp. He walked out to meet the old man. As he got closer he could see the elderly man was dressed in a General’s Uniform of the Army of Wurttemberg. He walked up and although not in uniform saluted.
“Captain Jeffery Ascott-Spaulding, of Her Majesty’s First Regiment of Foot and now the Foreign Office.”
“I am General Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin, of his Imperial Majesty’s Airship Service,” the elderly man replied in good English and not much of any accent. “May I ask your purpose for being here?”
He bowed slightly. “Yes, Sir, I have heard much about you. As for my mission here; it appears it was the same as yours. To remove the threat posed by the Austrian use of the Rutherford Crystals they stole from Zinj. You appear to have gotten here first.”
“You saw the results; I assume?” the Count added.
Sir, I am sure they saw the results in Sacramento. I have to tell you by tonight there is going to be a lot of anxious Americans here all asking questions none of want to answer. Can you leave?”
“Shortly I should think,” the Count said with conviction.
“Count Von Zeppelin,” he went on trying to be polite. “Can you tell me what happened? We were on the other side of the ridge preparing our own attack when the explosion occurred.”
The Count looked dejected. “As best as I can tell, two of our smaller airships approached over the ridge to drop aerial bombs on the compound as our troops attacked. They came in from the dark side, The Austrians must have had one projector ready because we saw a flash of pale blue light sweep across the sky cutting the two airships in half and setting off their hydrogen. Both ships burned and one crashed into the compound near the projector. It looked like our ground commander tried to beat a retreat, but the crystal exploded before they could hardly move. The fireball rose over the top of the ridge, bright as day, and setting everything on fire. We lost nearly a hundred men in the explosion. There was nothing left of them or the compound but ash. It was almost like they were victims of the Martian heat ray.”
“I remember that,” he said bringing painful memories to mind he'd just as soon forget. “Nevertheless, I am sorry for your loss. It is never an easy thing to lose good men.”
He heard a shot from the German perimeter. He thought, who be stupid enough to shoot at him while he was standing next to their commander? Then he realized it was fired into the air.
“I must go,” the Count said turning around. “I do not want the Americans to know we are here.”
“Their people are already here, they know,” he told him.
“That is what I was afraid of,” the Count said with resignation. “Tell your Foreign Office we would prefer the Austrians did not learn of this from you.”
“I will pass that along,” he told the retreating figure, “But I do not speak for them. Good luck Heir Count.”
“You too, Captain,” Zeppelin said walking quickly back to his ship.
He trotted back to his friends, motioning them on the way to get going to Sandy’s Ridge. He had to run to catch up with them. By the time he did, both airships had taken off and were flying south. He knew the Germans had secret bases in Mexico from which they could service airships. By the time they were across the large open field, the flying cigars were gone.”
“Did you find out what happened?” Pamela asked.
“Yes, and we are going to have one hell of a report for Mycroft when we get back to Whitehall,” he told them. “Meantime we have a train to catch.”
They all hurried toward Sandy’s Ridge. He didn’t need anyone else asking questions. He already had enough to explain to the Foreign Secretary.
The End
Author's note: If you are interested, I have published a lot of my early Fan Fiction work on FanFiction.net under Wilber Arron. To save space I will not be publishing that work on this site. Again, comments are always welcomed on this and any other of my stories.
WA
Upon a Darkside Rising(Wilbur Arron)
Upon A Darkside Rising
By
Wilber Arron
“Imperial Airship GB-107, arriving from London at Sky-port Two,” the loudspeaker bellowed out. “Persons meeting arriving passengers, please go to the Arrival Hall to await baggage unloading and customs clearance. Thank You.”
Jeffery Ascott-Spaulding, Captain in Her Majesty’s 1st Regiment of Foot, rode the large elevator up to the second floor Arrival Hall. He arrived only two hours ago from Shanghai in a similar airship and was waiting for his partner in the Arrival Lounge.
Despite the arrivals, there were not many people around. Since the Tanganyika Accident three years ago, when an old hydrogen airship exploded and killed forty-three people, the demand for airship travel had dropped to half of what it was beforehand. Even though they eliminated the need for hydrogen with the new Cavorite process and the Edison electric drive, most people were still not comfortable with the idea of careening through the atmosphere at two hundred miles an hour. It was, however, the very fastest way to travel, unless you enjoyed the prospect of being shot into space using Victor Barbicane’s huge gun.
The second floor was a marvel of modern construction. All glass and steel, it looked almost transparent. It was wide open to the bustling harbor of San Francisco. In the distance, he could see the new granite and marble buildings of the port complex that replaced those destroyed in the Martian Invasion. While studying the new construction, he heard a familiar voice.
“Henry,” the female voice called out. He turned and saw a beautiful woman dressed in a tight-fitting cream-colored dress walking toward him: a smile on her face, and a gleam in her bright green eyes. He walked quickly to her and kissed her passionately, yet in a publically acceptable manner. She returned the affection.
“Well, my darling, did you enjoy your trip?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” she seemed to bubble over. “We flew over the north pole; it took us two days to get here. It was marvelous, Henry. Uncle Albert sends his regards.”
That was the code phrase he was looking for. “Yes, I am glad he is over that gout of his,” which was his code phrase. Hell, they knew each other, what was the point. He saw little sense in some of the cloak and dagger details of their business.
He took her arm and they both walked toward the baggage check station. Two twenty-five-pound airship trunks with their names on them were already there, the maximum allowed to First Class airship passengers. He claimed them and then got two porters to take them downstairs. They presented their passports to the customs agent. He had to remind himself that neither of their passports contained their right names. The somewhat bored looking customs officer examined their documents carefully. He nodded and spoke in an official, yet lackluster voice.
“Mr. and Ms. Parker, all seems in order. Enjoy your stay in the United States.”
Since the British Foreign Office issued both false passports, he did not think there'd be any problems.
He nodded his approval. They passed their way to the street where the porters placed their bags in what looked to be a Hansom cab replica.
“Union Pacific Station,” he told the driver. He paid the porters well, but not extravagantly; then helped his alleged wife inside the cab with its red leather seats.
They both got in, the driver gave a crack of the whip, and off they went. He looked to her for some clue of what was going on, but she sat in silence and mentioned only what she saw out the window like any tourist would. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Union Pacific station. He paid the driver and paid another porter with a cart to take their trucks to the luggage car for the Salt Lake City express. Although their train did not leave for an hour, they went on board to get out of public view.
As he walked past the new Pacific Dominator engine, he stopped for a second to admire it. This new marvel of steam technology was twice as big as the previous engines he had seen in America and could run at nearly twice the speed, nearly seventy miles per hour. The boilers were made with the new Martian steel that Carnegie learned to produce. The new construction would allow operating pressures much higher than before. The 4-8-4 construction could keep a sure grip on the Krupp rails as they climbed the mountains. They would no longer need a booster engine to get over the Sierra Nevada’s.
They moved slowly to the First-Class Pullman car. It was located two cars from the dining car and next to the parlor car. Thankfully it was still well away from the Second Class and steerage cars the American underclasses used. The former colonists were no better off than their British counterparts, but they refused to acknowledge it, or even show respect to their betters. There was an arrogance to the Americans he frankly couldn’t stand. That is why he did not like coming to the States. He showed the conductor their tickets and they were shown to one of six staterooms in the Pullman for the overnight trip.
Pamela (her real name) got close to both the car porters and other people nearby before going into their cabin. Once inside, he locked the door, pulled the window drapes shut, and looked around the small room. Instantly, Pamela got down on her hands and knees and started to smell around. He went looking for any unusual holes or other devices that could be used for listening. After two minutes, he helped Pamela up and they both sat down on the same couch and started to whisper to each other.
“I did not smell that anyone else has been in our cabin except the two porters,” Pamela reported. She then went back and started to undo her tight-fitting dress. “I cannot believe that your English ladies allow themselves to be imprisoned in these clothes. You can hardly move in them. I will take a leather coverall the sailors wear in my father’s corsair fleet any day. If you do not mind, I want out of this damn corset.”
He didn’t mind at all. He helped her out of the dress and then the corset. That left her clothed in a simple chemise. She then stretched out on the opposite seat.
“Ahhhh, much better,” she moaned. She looked at him with a smile, “You’ve had that sour grapes look on your face since I first saw you. What is the problem?”
She wanted to know so he told her bluntly. “I do not like being pulled out of Shanghai in the middle of a case. Neyland Smith and I had just made some important progress in Fu Manchu’s plot to replace the Dowager Empress. Now he has to do it himself.”
“He is capable,” she said. “Besides, Admiral Hall is sending him some help.”
“It will be a hell of a lot worse if Fu Manchu succeeds,” he went on. “You think we have problems in China now, wait until that crafty old bastard takes control. Now, what here is so damn important that you have to fly me halfway around the world on a moment’s notice?”
Pamela sat up and leaned forward so she would not have to talk as loud. She also changed her speak to her native and obscure Pellucidarian language only a few outsiders like he knew. “I talked to Mycroft in Whitehall four days ago. About a month ago, Jane and John showed up at the Foreign Ministry with a tale that scared everyone. It seems like someone penetrated the upper Congo River unseen by us, somehow got into the city of Zinj, and stole a large amount of Rutherford Crystals from the royal mines. King Zubu attacked with his warriors, but the invaders had modern weapons and slaughtered the natives and killed Zubu. They then disappeared without a trace. Zubu’s son and heir, Cabu, got a hold of John and Jane in Upper Rhodesia and they came to us as fast as they could. Mycroft got his brother to look at it. At first, we thought it was the Germans, but it did not add up. After some investigation, Mycroft’s brother discovered it was the Austrians.”
He nodded; he had heard about Austrians vanishing in the night before. “Most likely they did it by airship,” he said. “During the Martian Invasion, they painted several airships black, put heavy mufflers on the engines, and did night raids on the Martian camp when they occupied Wein. The Martians had all sorts of trouble spotting them. The Austrians eventually saw the bastards off.”
“Why the Austrians?” Pamela wanted to know. “Not your aggressive types like the Germans.”
He had a fairly good idea. “Before the invasion, the Austrians got beaten badly by the Germans and Von Moltke. They got kicked out of the German Confederation and lost their influence with the other German states. After the Franco-Prussian War, it became obvious who was going to dominate Central Europe. Germany then got hit a lot harder by the Martians than Austria did. I think good old Franz Joseph saw this as a chance to get even. If he has enough Rutherford Crystal to make half a dozen projectors, he can incinerate the German Army on the field. All that new Krupp artillery would be useless. After the Germans, they could take on anyone, even us.”
“So that’s what Mycroft meant when he said it could alter the balance of power,” Pamela added.
“Now what does that have to do with me being here in the former colonies?” he asked.
“The Austrian in charge, Count Ernest von Bladenburg, is here in the United States. The Austrians didn’t set up their lab up in Europe; too dangerous and hard to deny. We found out they have a place north of Lake Tahoe in the middle of nowhere where they are experimenting with the crystals far away from prying eyes.”
“I know this guy,” he said. “He is their chief henchman and an all-around nasty fellow. Shoot him on sight,” he suggested.
“That is about it,” Pamela said going back to relaxing on the couch.
“Makes sense,” he said calmly. “We are going to do a search and destroy?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “Both John and Jane are already here.”
At least they will have good help. “What about the Americans?” he wanted to know. “Have we told them?”
“Foreign Service told President Cleveland who told the U. S. Secret Service. Being a European power, they just as soon let us handle it, but they are providing support.”
Then the locals would not bother them. Good, he hated having some bailiff breathing down his neck after he did a job.
“So we get off at Tahoe?” he asked.
Pamela shook her head no. “We stay on at Tahoe; too easy to watch and someone might know you. No, the train will be slowed by work near a trestle about twenty miles outside of Tahoe, we jump off and meet John and Jane under the trestle.”
That seemed to take care of it. “Anything else?” he asked.
“Well it is about fifteen hours before we get there,” Pamela said with an open grin. “And I have not seen you for now for almost two years.”
He motioned her into the cabin’s powder room and rang for the porter. The middle age black man in an immaculate navy-blue uniform of the Pullman Company came almost at once.
“My wife and I will have dinner in our room,” he told the man. “May I ask you to prepare our cabin for the night?”
The porter rang for his assistant and in a couple of minutes, the two seats were converted into beds. He nodded his approval.
“For dinner, my wife and I will have Porterhouse steak, medium for me and medium rare for the wife. Also, we will have the red potatoes, baby corn, chocolate truffle, and a bottle of your best red.”
“Yes, Sir, Mr. Parker,” the porter said. He gave both porters two dollars and they went on their way.
After he was sure they were all gone, he knocked gently on the powder room door. Pamela came out minus the chemise. She still had the best female body of any woman he ever knew. She helped him undo his coat and tie.
# # #
The sun would be up in about three hours. They had left the Tahoe station twenty-five minutes ago and he could already feel the train slowing. He was dressed in a dark pullover and Pamela was dressed in her loose-fitting corsair uniform. No one else was up. They stood at the end of the car and waited for the train to slow before they both jumped off. They slid down the hill about ten yards before they recovered their footing and slowly picked their way down the hill until they stood under the trestle, next to a small stream. No one else appeared to be around which put him on his guard.
“To thy own self be true,” he heard a female voice call from above followed quickly by the sound of a Winchester rifle having a round put in its chamber.
“And as sure as night follows day, thou cannot be false to any man,” Pamela said aloud.
For a few seconds nothing happened, then almost by magic a woman appeared from the darkness noiselessly and pointing a Winchester at both him and Pamela. She was dressed in a two-piece leopard skin loincloth and top that did not hide much of her beautiful figure.
“Hello Jane,” he said in a low voice. “Been a few years since those ivory poaches on the Upper Congo.”
“Yes,” she said. She came up and kissed both Pamela and him on the cheek.
“I have the horses and mules tied up about two miles away. I have a campsite there. John does not want us to travel in daylight. These woods are not as empty as they seem.”
“Lead on,” Pamela told her and they all quietly marched from under the trestle and up into the thick forest.
They stayed low and away from the horizon, traveling in the trees and making as little noise as possible. He saw the first rays of morning as they got to a small clearing near a babbling brook and waterfall. Inside the clearing were two mules, four horses, four saddle packs on the horses, and two large packs on the mules. The waterfall was noisy; it would help drown out any sound the animals or they might make.
“John says we travel at night,” Jane told them. “We found their camp, it is about a two-night journey from here. John is still there to reconnoiter the place. Whoever is there has hired about a dozen Apache warriors as long-range patrol. John marked a trail we should follow. It should avoid the patrols.”
“Where did you get the animals and the equipment?” Pamela asked.
“An old prospector met us out here. He got fairly close before John found him. He was wearing makeup, but it was good makeup. He said he left a note for you in the saddle bag of the big bay. After we took the equipment, he disappeared.”
He walked over to examine the horses. Although not a cavalryman, the horses looked stout and well looked after. There were no brands on any of the horses or mules so you could not tell where they came from. The horses were western quarter horses and they looked well picked out. They were also all geldings and had western tack. He went over to the big bay and looked in the saddlebag. Sure enough, there was a letter. There was enough daylight now to read it without a lamp.
“I got these from our own private herd. They are well mannered. I also packed the equipment I think you will need for the job. Afterwards, there is a spur track about fifteen miles north of the compound. It is near a place called Sandy’s Ridge that I marked on the map. It was used by lumber companies before the invasion. Jim and I will have the train parked there starting on the eighteenth and will be there for four nights. The new moon is on the nineteenth. We will have a small diversion planned that night at about 2:00 AM. That is when I would make my move. That is as far as we can go on this one, orders from above. Best of luck.”
A.G.
“Thank you, old friend,” he said aloud. He looked at his watch. Today was the sixteenth. They'd be there on the eighteenth. That would give them one day to plan the assault on the nineteenth. This was cutting it fine, but doable.
He spent the early part of the day unpacking the containers and examining the contents. Inside were four Smith and Wesson 45 double action pistols, three 1886-model Winchester rifles, enough ammunition to start a small war, dynamite and the latest mechanical and chemical detonators. Included were three Bowie knives, four sets of throwing knives, and four Arkansas toothpicks for close up use. Added to this was hemp rope, muffled grappling hooks, and a beautiful longbow with arrows. John was a legendary shot with that. There was ready to eat food for a week, oats for the horses, shielded lamps, and a detailed map of the area. A four-person portable shelter completed the kit. He made sure both Pamela and Jane had a 45, Winchester, and knives. In the afternoon they all rested until the sun was down and then he let Jane lead the way.
They had the horses and mules go in pairs and lead them on foot. Too easy to see a person on horseback even at night. He was glad Jane was in front because he missed at least a third of the trail makers John had left them. He would have been hopelessly lost by midnight. Instead, two hours before dawn they came to an opening in the forest. In front of the clearing was a small ridge. Jane called them forward.
“We need to cross the open space and go to the left of the ridge,” she whispered. “The compound in on the right side and that is where all the patrols are. Near the compound is a place we can get the animals across the ridge to the other side. John will meet us there. Now we must hurry.”
They moved quickly but quietly out into the open and toward the left side of the small ridge. He looked around, but he could see or hear nothing. He had to remind himself that the Apaches, like the Afghans, were past masters of moving undetected. There could be half a dozen Indians looking at them right now and he would not know it. Neither Jane nor Pamela, who were both better than he at spotting unwanted attention, said nothing. At the first crack of light, they stopped and made a cold camp. He unloaded the animals and fed and watered them from a nearby stream before taking the early watch.
After an uneventful day, they moved off at dark along the lower ridge where the ground was still mostly flat but remained heavily forested. Again, Jane found their path and guided them until it was just past midnight. She stopped and pointed to some trees. It was hard to see, but there was a gap they could lead the animals through. Just as they entered, a Man dressed only in a simple lion skin loincloth and wearing a leather belt with a long hunting knife appeared from the shadows. It startled him for a second, but he knew the man instantly. He silently came up to them and hugged and kissed Jane passionately. He walked back to him and held out his hand.
“Jeff,” he said in a low voice.
“John,” he said and shook the hand firmly. He then kissed Pamela on the cheek.
“We need to talk,” John told them in a whisper. “Something is happening here and I did not want you all walking into it,”
“What is going on?” Pamela asked.
“We aren’t alone here.”
They moved back a bit from the top of the hill before John pulled them all together.
“Last night after midnight I heard a dull engine noise from behind the ridge. I went to the top and saw a large hydrogen airship painted jet black and almost invisible to the eye approach the back side of the ridge flying very low. The ridge hid them from the Austrian camp. They did not land but instead dropped ropes and about ten small people descended from the ship and fanned out. The airship turned around and went back the way it came. I got a good look at them during the daylight. They were Kalahari bushmen. They went after the Apaches but not until late afternoon. As far as I can see, they killed them and lost a few of their own. Not a shot was fired. A little while ago I saw three other old-style airships approach and land in the open plain about four miles away. They did it silently, no motors running. They landed and what looked to be maybe fifty men left the ships and started toward the compound. All done very quietly and raised no alarm inside the Austrian camp. That is when I left. I did not want you walking into this.”
“The airships landing silently,” he repeated. “Well they are not us, and I doubt the Americans are behind it. To land three old type airships silently requires skill and daring. Are you sure it was Kalahari bushmen?” he asked John.
“Positive, I snuck in there for Mycroft a few years ago to spy on a new fort the Germans were building in Southwest Africa. One of the few times in my life I was spotted and chased. These natives are good and they are killers, but I never knew them to be mercenaries. The Germans do not treat the natives that well.”
“Well, we are not going to walk into someone else’s battle,” he said.
“Let us take the equipment, get to the top of the ridge and look,” Pamela suggested. “One thing for sure, the Austrians will not expect another attack from a different party.”
“Crack,” came a sharp piercing noise of a rifle shot from over the top of the ridge. It was soon followed by others in rapid succession. The party has begun in the compound.
Then there was a loud “PHOOM” followed quickly by an explosion.
“Field artillery,” he told them. “Most likely a small mountain pack howitzer. The Germans are serious.”
The rifle firing and cannon fire increased. Soon he heard the distinct and rapid fire of Gatling guns. This was followed by a series of larger explosions. He could hear yelling and more firing. Suddenly staying behind a hundred yards of dirt seemed a good idea.
They heard it before they saw it. A dull muffled roaring noise of an engine coming from overhead and in front of them. Then they spotted them. In the sky moving toward them out of the west and coming over their side of the ridge; two black shapes hard to see against the dark sky. It was two black airships approaching the compound from behind the cover of the ridge. They came in very low, almost scraping the trees growing from the top of the ridge. As soon as they were over the compound, he saw them suddenly shoot up in the air like they just released a great weight.
“BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM,” thundered in a chain explosion.
Then he saw it; a pale blue beam shoot upward from behind the ridge. The hill blocked sight of the two airships, but he saw the beam arc across the sky followed by two bright flashes of light and two explosions.
“That is a projector firing,” he said. “Most likely at the airships. Those two explosions were their hydrogen being set alight.”
The flashes were followed moments later by a loud crashing noise. After that, there was utter silence for maybe ten seconds. Then what sounded like loud shouting, closer to panic yelling much louder than before. His German was poor, but he definitely caught someone screaming “Schnell!” at the top of his lungs.
He turned to look at John who was as confused as he was at the turn of events. He was about to ask him what he thought when the ground shook from underneath him. Above him, along the entire top of the ridge, there was a blinding white light intermixed with blue and green streaks. The brightness was so intense, it blinded him. He lost his night vision. The next second they got hit by a loud thunderclap that knocked them all off their feet. He found himself tossed senseless onto the ground like a discarded rag doll. He tried to recover but couldn’t hear or see a thing.
“Stay still” John yelled out, “Wait until you get your night vision back.”
He blinked hard several times thinking he was permanently blinded when objects started to take form. It was like all the bells in Saint Paul’s started ringing in his head. He felt dizzy and for a while utterly helpless. A little while later he pulled himself together.
“Everyone alive?” he called out.
“I cannot see or hear much,” John said quietly.
“I am in one piece and not much more,” Jane said.
“I am together, more or less,” Pamela added.
Sometime later things started to take shape around him and he started to hear birds crying in alarm. He finally got to his feet.
“By the fifty-three demons, what the hell was that,” Pamela cursed still holding her hands over her eyes.
“The crystals,” he realized. “It has to be the crystals. Once they charge them fully, if the energy regulator is destroyed or it gets hit by something, it can explode. Pierre Curie once warned me he thought the explosion of a large, fully charged crystal, might be apocalyptic.”
“He got that right,” Pamela added
“Smoke,” John called out.
They looked around and then Jane pointed to the top of the ridge. They all looked up to see the tops of the trees fully ablaze. The ridge crest was an inferno.
“We have to leave,” he said loudly. “If that fire comes down the ridge, the German won’t be the only ones incinerated.”
They all ran down the hill as best they could. When they got to the place they tethered the horses and mules, they were all gone. The explosion scared them off. Their equipment and personal things were scattered all over. They spent about two minutes picking up what they could carry.
“We need to go north, quickly,” he told them. “Someone is waiting for us next to Sandy’s Ridge. The map is gone with the bay but I remember it.”
No one argued; they all moved as quickly as possible. John and Jane took the lead. Behind them, the fire was burning down the ridge. The wind was out of the west blowing against the bright yellow flames, so they did not travel quickly. By dawn, they had out-paced the fire and came to the end of the ridge. There was open space between them and Sandy’s Ridge he could see in the distance. There was one other thing he saw. In the large open space were two long black cigar vessels. One was leaning on its side with many men around it.
John reached into his bag and took out a small telescope and looked. “Looks like they are working on the engines. We can cross to Sandy’s Ridge, but they will see us for sure.”
“We can give them a wide berth; they have bigger problems than us to worry about; although I would like to talk to them to see what happened.”
Pamela looked at him as if he was daft. “After last night they may not be in a talkative mood.”
“Let us get within about two miles near the trees on the other side of the field. That should show them we don’t have hostile intent. I will then signal them and ask to talk. If they try and come out to get us, we can lose ourselves in the trees.”
“And if they take you, prisoner?” Pamela asked.
“Then you get to Mycroft and tell him what happened,” he told them. “I am quite sure if we threaten to tell the Austrians who did this, that should give them enough reason to leave me alone. They are supposed to be allies.”
They moved in daylight into the large open field and walked near the tree line as far away from the Germans as possible. No doubt they got the German’s attention; several soldiers set up a perimeter and watched them closely. When they got closest to the Germans, they stopped and he took out his small shaving mirror from his personal kit. Using International Morris, he identified himself and asked permission to approach and talk alone. At first, there was nothing, so he repeated his message and again there was no reaction from the Germans except to put more men onto the perimeter. Finally, a man came out and someone flashed a message saying they'd meet him halfway. The man that walked out was elderly and had a slight limp. He walked out to meet the old man. As he got closer he could see the elderly man was dressed in a General’s Uniform of the Army of Wurttemberg. He walked up and although not in uniform saluted.
“Captain Jeffery Ascott-Spaulding, of Her Majesty’s First Regiment of Foot and now the Foreign Office.”
“I am General Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin, of his Imperial Majesty’s Airship Service,” the elderly man replied in good English and not much of any accent. “May I ask your purpose for being here?”
He bowed slightly. “Yes, Sir, I have heard much about you. As for my mission here; it appears it was the same as yours. To remove the threat posed by the Austrian use of the Rutherford Crystals they stole from Zinj. You appear to have gotten here first.”
“You saw the results; I assume?” the Count added.
Sir, I am sure they saw the results in Sacramento. I have to tell you by tonight there is going to be a lot of anxious Americans here all asking questions none of want to answer. Can you leave?”
“Shortly I should think,” the Count said with conviction.
“Count Von Zeppelin,” he went on trying to be polite. “Can you tell me what happened? We were on the other side of the ridge preparing our own attack when the explosion occurred.”
The Count looked dejected. “As best as I can tell, two of our smaller airships approached over the ridge to drop aerial bombs on the compound as our troops attacked. They came in from the dark side, The Austrians must have had one projector ready because we saw a flash of pale blue light sweep across the sky cutting the two airships in half and setting off their hydrogen. Both ships burned and one crashed into the compound near the projector. It looked like our ground commander tried to beat a retreat, but the crystal exploded before they could hardly move. The fireball rose over the top of the ridge, bright as day, and setting everything on fire. We lost nearly a hundred men in the explosion. There was nothing left of them or the compound but ash. It was almost like they were victims of the Martian heat ray.”
“I remember that,” he said bringing painful memories to mind he'd just as soon forget. “Nevertheless, I am sorry for your loss. It is never an easy thing to lose good men.”
He heard a shot from the German perimeter. He thought, who be stupid enough to shoot at him while he was standing next to their commander? Then he realized it was fired into the air.
“I must go,” the Count said turning around. “I do not want the Americans to know we are here.”
“Their people are already here, they know,” he told him.
“That is what I was afraid of,” the Count said with resignation. “Tell your Foreign Office we would prefer the Austrians did not learn of this from you.”
“I will pass that along,” he told the retreating figure, “But I do not speak for them. Good luck Heir Count.”
“You too, Captain,” Zeppelin said walking quickly back to his ship.
He trotted back to his friends, motioning them on the way to get going to Sandy’s Ridge. He had to run to catch up with them. By the time he did, both airships had taken off and were flying south. He knew the Germans had secret bases in Mexico from which they could service airships. By the time they were across the large open field, the flying cigars were gone.”
“Did you find out what happened?” Pamela asked.
“Yes, and we are going to have one hell of a report for Mycroft when we get back to Whitehall,” he told them. “Meantime we have a train to catch.”
They all hurried toward Sandy’s Ridge. He didn’t need anyone else asking questions. He already had enough to explain to the Foreign Secretary.
The End
Author's note: If you are interested, I have published a lot of my early Fan Fiction work on FanFiction.net under Wilber Arron. To save space I will not be publishing that work on this site. Again, comments are always welcomed on this and any other of my stories.
WA
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JD
05/27/2018Interesting and well-written... I felt like I was watching a movie as I read it and could picture everything that was happening. I think it would be a great story to expand into a novel and I could definitely see it being made into a blockbuster movie one day! Thanks for sharing it on Storystar, Wilber! : )
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Wilbur Arron
06/04/2018To Ms. Smith: Thank you. I would settle for having it published, but it was universally panned by the editors of the major F/SF magazines.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Rose Smith
06/03/2018I definitely agree that I felt like I was there. And I also agree that this would make a fantastic movie. Great job!
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Wilbur Arron
05/28/2018I would not mind seeing this made into a movie, but I would not hold my breath. Thank you for your comments.
WA
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