<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950</id><updated>2011-07-08T04:21:41.289+08:00</updated><category term='Outside Adventures in the Glue'/><category term='Trinity Sci-fi'/><category term='Adventures in the Glue'/><title type='text'>The Wolf's Repository</title><subtitle type='html'>This is the new repository for The Wolf. Previously, this stuff was only put up at the Homepage. But now, maybe with the accessibility of blogs, this might be a better place to store and share stuff...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-6287625746828413518</id><published>2010-01-11T16:20:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T16:47:16.210+08:00</updated><title type='text'>chp 4a</title><content type='html'>The rain was falling heavily and it was hard to tell friend from foe in the darkness.  Raymond was kneeling behind a section of wall that had been blown away leaving just enough height for him to take cover from small arms fire.  His rifle was equipped with a scope and its night-vision capability was a great help.  However, he knew that looking through the scope for too long would hinder his awareness of his surroundings. And right now, he needed superhuman awareness for an enemy could appear from any side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sounds of guns exchanging fire came from somewhere in front of him.  Occasional stray rounds ricocheting off his wall.  Yes, he thought grimly.  Whatever the current situation was, this space was his.  He had been fighting for hours and though he had gone from being protected in an armoured transport to fighting in the open, he had yet to come across a single dead enemy.  Not one body was left.  Perhaps it was the heavy rain, but still, not even a body part after a grenade had gone off?  He had seen them through his scope and they looked like very disfigured humans and their clothes were filthy.  Some wore skins of creatures over their armour plating.  He knew they had armour plating for some of them could not be brought down except by a headshot.  But, no bodies!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Get over there by the wall!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raymond heard that command and tensed.  But so far, only humans from Oasis City had ever shouted commands.  Not that the enemy could not suddenly decide to mimic them.  So he got ready to get a snap shot off if it turned out to be some ugly monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came the sound of running feet and a silhouette came almost flying over the wall.  The grunt of pain as the body landed sounded feminine.  “Who’s there?!” Raymond ventured.  “It’s Shirley!” came the reply and then she joined Raymond behind the wall.  More running feet and then the medical officer came around the corner of the wall with both his and her bags.  His rifle was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last to arrive was Shaun.  He had a bandage around his left arm, but his left hand was holding the straps of two rifles.  His own rifle was held ready in his right.  His field pack was still on his back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raymond was amazed.  His field pack had been shot through some time after they had abandoned their transport.  Then the team had been separated in the ensuing fire-fight.  But here was Shaun, complete with field pack and holding two other rifles?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey man, where’ve you been?” Shaun asked Raymond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wherever you weren’t I guess.  I haven’t seen anyone else from our transport since the fire-fight,” Raymond replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We’ve got to get out of this rain. Find some shelter.  The temperature is already beginning to go down,” the M.O. said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You’re the ranking officer here, Sir,” Shaun replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So we stay together, but we have to move.  Is that a building over there?” The M.O. said, pointing to a dark shape in the distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raymond used his scope and zoomed in.  It was a building.  And he could make out some figures moving toward it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It is a building.  There was movement.  About two or three people just went into the shadows there.  Distance is about 300 meters,” Raymond reported.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, we’ll have to take a chance that those people you saw are on our side.  Let’s go,” the M.O. said, as he picked up the bags and started moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Let me help you with the rifles,” Raymond offered, reaching out a hand toward Shaun.  Shirley intercepted him and grabbed one first before handing him the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grinning, she held it low and moved off at a run, crouching as she went.  Shaun shrugged and took off with Raymond close behind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-6287625746828413518?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/6287625746828413518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=6287625746828413518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/6287625746828413518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/6287625746828413518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2010/01/chp-4a.html' title='chp 4a'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-3378497007029979394</id><published>2010-01-11T16:16:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T16:20:16.894+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trinity Sci-fi'/><title type='text'>chp 3b</title><content type='html'>The sky turned dark suddenly.  Raymond had not expected the storm to move in so quickly.  Not so long ago, it had just been a dark line on the horizon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rain had not fallen yet but the wind had picked up.  Dr Tony was sitting at the front of their armoured transport, beside the driver, another reserve personnel.  The rapid fire gun controller sat behind them.  Only the bottom half of his body could be seen as the upper half disappeared into the gun turret mounted on the vehicle.  Seated in the back were Raymond, Clement and Shaun.  There were boxes of ammunition, energy packs for the laser weapons, and food.  Still there was space left for two other personnel.  Raymond assumed they would be assigned a medic.  He wondered if they would be so lucky to get the twins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Attention all citizens.  This is your President Glau Summers speaking.  By now, you should have returned to your homes and made sure your homes are secure.  Those of you who have volunteered with our militia should have joined up with your units.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oasis City has not seen a storm of this magnitude since the horrible incident 1000 years ago. Today, the storm has returned.  The scouts we sent out have not.  The observation posts outside the protective ring of the mountains have not reported in and all communication with them is lost.&lt;br /&gt;We must assume that the worst is upon us.  The blight from a thousand years ago has returned.  We must now fight for our lives.  There is no quarter to be given for none will be given to us.  There is no need for honour in dealing with an enemy devoid of any decency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To survive is not enough.  We must win!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A loud cheering broke out from among the ranks and at that moment, two people climbed into the back of the transport.  Raymond was instantly alert as he recognized a familiar scent of perfume.  Clement was instantly awake with a deep intake of air.  Shaun checked his rifle and when he looked up, locked eyes with Shirley.  She smiled and settled into her seat, her medical bag with attached foldable stretcher on the floor, held between her legs.   Next to her was an older man who carried a smaller backpack and a rifle.  He slammed his palm on the body of the transport twice before sitting down and buckling up.&lt;br /&gt;As Shirley did the same, so the three boys hurriedly followed suit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The door of the transport swung shut as its engines roared to life.  Once closed, the door shut out the sound of the engines again. And conversation could begin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-3378497007029979394?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/3378497007029979394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=3378497007029979394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/3378497007029979394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/3378497007029979394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2010/01/chp-3b.html' title='chp 3b'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-752450401739982389</id><published>2010-01-11T16:13:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T16:16:01.222+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trinity Sci-fi'/><title type='text'>chp 3a</title><content type='html'>“How’s visual?” Ben asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Same old same old.” Came Bert’s reply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I wonder how long the fighting’s been going on… and who in the world is fighting whom?” Ben thought aloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’d say… Oasis City versus some unknown… Well, that doesn’t make any sense. We’ve not had any sort of fighting since the Great War so long ago!” Bert muttered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were both silent for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Have you ever heard the legend of the storm pirates?” Bert asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah… somebody said something to me before. What’re they called?” Ben replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“They have a name? I thought no one knew their name or what planet or…. tribe they come from.  They’re just space cannibals and storm pirates right?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben shook his head.  He’d heard their name used before.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“I know the survivors of the holocaust didn’t even speak of the incident.  They just tried to rebuild their lives.  But the way Oasis City developed, you know that they’ve never forgotten,” Bert continued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Reavers! That’s what they’re called,” Ben finally said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wait a minute. I thought the Reavers went extinct a thousand years ago.  They were a wandering tribe of canninbals with no home planet.  What’s more, they’re from a system many many many hyperspace jumps away,” Bert protested, “Did I mention many many many many?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I know. I know. But there was this old man I met once who was from Oasis City and he mentioned that name.” Ben insisted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bert scratched his head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Reavers were not part of their world.  Inter-system travel had improved over the last thousand years but for them to have appeared in this quadrant, in this system was nothing short of a miracle.  Indeed, almost as miraculous as the homecoming of the Federation Starship Voyager in the history books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Empires come and go, Alliances form and disband and Federations break up.  Evil does not change nor does the fight against it.  Still the kind of extreme darkness of heart that the Reavers represented was too hard to imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The cargo we are carrying has to do with turning this desert planet into a garden paradise,” Ben finally said.&lt;br /&gt;Bert turned to look at Ben.  “Someone gave us cargo of such GREAT IMPORTANCE?” he asked, an incredulous look on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Makes sense doesn’t it? We’re not big players in the underground, no one really bothers about us.  We’re legit enough so Police don’t have files on us.  Basically we’re under the sensors,” Ben answered.&lt;br /&gt;“But cargo of this magnitude… we don’t even have sidearms! This ship is not armed! Even though it is a decommissioned Raptor class craft and it handles pretty well, what chance would we have had if the enemies of Oasis City found out what we were carrying?” Bert blurted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, that’s where you come in.  I had a feeling you might just be as good as you claimed to be.  Someone equal to flying the Millennium Falcon.  Sure, Zoey isn’t anything like the Falcon but you do get her to do stuff I wouldn’t think possible.” Ben shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Right…” Bert replied, wondering if that was flattery or compliment and did not know whether to laugh or get angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, nothing they had done so far would have gotten them into any kind of trouble.  They were not mercenaries and they did run of the mill jobs.  In fact, most of the time, they just transported goods to places where he had managed to book gigs.  And Zoey, as the ship was called, did handle pretty well.  Bert had scrapped his beat up old personal class transport and Ben had not asked for any more payment for Bert’s lodging other than his piloting and minor engineering skills.  So Bert was cash rich.  More than when he was stuck with his old transport.  Now he could take gigs outside the local system.  Which was how they ended here on Oasis City.  However, given the information that Ben had just revealed, maybe the gig was just to give them legitimate cover to visit Oasis City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, I’ve always tried to avoid arming Zoey.  But this was to be her last trip as an unarmed vessel,” Ben went on, “Part of the payment was to be in arms.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bert nodded thoughtfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Then again, we might have to buy a new ship,” Ben said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Whoa. What’s wrong with Zoey? She’s fast, handles well, and being ex-military, she could be armed to the teeth if we could afford it,” Bert argued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That would be illegal.  A couple of projectile guns or a laser gun or two perhaps. I sincerely doubt we’d get the license to arm Zoey to the teeth. She was a missle boat y’know?” Ben said, “we’d have to be part of a system or planetary militia to have that kind of armament.  And then you’d been stuck running the same circuit, telling the same people the same jokes… unless you’ve got new material.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bert gave Ben a hurt look, “Thank you very much.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“C’mon, it’s true! We’ve been partners for about a year and travelling to different places for every gig. You haven’t had to revisit any place so far,” Ben continued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was true.  All of Bert’s appointments had somehow led them closer and closer to Oasis City.  As if some inexorable hand was drawing the two of them toward this point in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Who’s winning?” Bert asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t know,” Ben replied looking the sensor screen, “We’re running on passive scanning here. Don’t want to broadcast our position.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-752450401739982389?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/752450401739982389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=752450401739982389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/752450401739982389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/752450401739982389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2010/01/chp-3a.html' title='chp 3a'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-4163673367175675791</id><published>2010-01-11T16:10:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T16:11:25.921+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trinity Sci-fi'/><title type='text'>chp 2c</title><content type='html'>Grabbing their bags, the three boys followed their professor into the hallway and down the stairs.  As they entered the basement, they couldn’t help but notice that a number of young people were there too.  Most were students like themselves and all of them were seniors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few transports were already there with engines running, the noise reverberating in the cavernous basement parking area.  Almost all the lecturers who taught them were there too.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr Tony led them to a transport and had them board it.  Their bags were stashed in the back together with the other occupants’ belongings.  Dr Tony went to the front of the transport to speak to someone.  Probably his officer, Raymond thought.  The three of them had taken seats with the door behind them as the rest of the transport was full.  They watched as Dr Tony talked animatedly with the person in the shadows, with the occasional jab of the thumb in their direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sudden whiff of perfume distracted the three boys momentarily as did the sound of giggling.  But before they could turn, two female figures seated themselves on the bench facing theirs. “Hello boys. Are you lost?” One of them said. “Hi Shirley,” Raymond replied evenly, “we’re just doing our part.” The two girls grinned. “Of course, that’s so patriotic.  However, I bet you’re just looking for some action,” Shirley bantered.  “Oh stop blushing Shaun!” said the other girl.&lt;br /&gt;“I’m not blushing!” Shaun said, a little too loudly.&lt;br /&gt;“Alright! Take it easy cowboy.  You know Jeanne was just teasing you,” Shirley said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shirley and Jeanne were twins who were rather popular with the boys in the school.  Not that they were easy or put out, but they were pretty and fun to hang out with.  There were prettier girls who had been around the block but not these two.  Still, they had no lack of suitors.  The fact that they were eighteen and thus two years older than the three boys did not stop them from making friends with the trio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr Tony sat down next to the girls and said to the boys, “Ok.  When we arrive at our sector, you will follow me.  We’ll get you fitted out with weapons, ammunition and armour.”&lt;br /&gt;“Wow, Dr T.  They’re going into combat?” Jeanne asked.&lt;br /&gt;“No more than you and I will be involved,” came the reply.&lt;br /&gt;“Without training?” Shirley queried.&lt;br /&gt;“What does it matter? If the defences fail, everyone will have to fight for their lives,” Dr Tony replied, “assuming, of course, that the alarm is real.  This could really just be a very severe storm.  The only attack happened a thousand years ago!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever the case, the three boys were just glad to be part of the action.  Even if it meant that there was nothing to shoot at.  The doors closed and the transport moved out.  The noise of the engines was reduced to little more than a hum.  The boys were trying not to let their excitement show too much.  Though the jury was still out on whether it was because they were on an adventure or in the presence of two pretty girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why are you going? Are you trained in combat too?” Raymond asked the girls. But he was looking at Shirley.  She was the more athletic of the twins, and she filled out her uniform quite nicely.  Jeanne was on the slim side though she still had curves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Not quite,” Shirley replied, “but we are trained medics.  So we’re more a support than frontline warriors.”&lt;br /&gt;“What does that badge mean?” Clement asked, pointing to… and then suddenly withdrawing his hand self-consciously.  Shaun rolled his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Shirley did not laugh at Clement’s embarrassment, instead she said, “That means I do know how to fire a sidearm well enough.”&lt;br /&gt;“Cooooooool,” Raymond cut in.&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah. Well, we shoot pretty well too. At least, I know I do, played with my gun all the time back home,” Clement said.&lt;br /&gt;Shaun slapped his hand to his forehead and said, “Can we talk about something else?”  Jeanne laughed and said, “Hey, we’re talking about firing guns here, so stop with the weird thinking!  We know you farm boys must have handled some kind of weapon before.  Otherwise Dr T wouldn’t have let you come along.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys looked at Dr Tony.  He shrugged. Then the transport arrived at its destination.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The transports emptied of passengers and a crowd formed in the open space.  “We part here boys,” Jeanne said, “Try not to lose your heads.”&lt;br /&gt;“We’re cool,” Raymond replied.&lt;br /&gt;“She means it literally bro,” Shaun said.&lt;br /&gt;“Shaun’s right.  If it really is the space cannibals that are attacking, they like chopping off heads for decoration of their ships’ hulls,” Shirley added.&lt;br /&gt;“You be careful too,” Shaun said, not quite looking at the girls.&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, you too.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they parted company.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-4163673367175675791?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/4163673367175675791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=4163673367175675791' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/4163673367175675791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/4163673367175675791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2010/01/chp-2c.html' title='chp 2c'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-371542979069153342</id><published>2010-01-11T16:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T16:11:43.317+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trinity Sci-fi'/><title type='text'>chp 2b</title><content type='html'>Clement, Shaun and Raymond packed their bags and met at the front of the class.  While everyone else was leaving the classroom, the three boys were talking excitedly at the window.  “The thousand year storm!” Clement gushed.  The other two nodded their heads excitedly.  Everybody had heard the legend.  More than a thousand years ago, there had been a dark storm that raged in the valley.  More than natural disaster, the storm brought with it an armada of ships, crewed by pirates or some degenerate sort of human, or ex-human, beings.  They were exceptionally cruel, taking people as slaves, or food, depending on who was telling the tale.  The fact was that Oasis City had suffered greatly with only a few hundred survivors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since that time, technology had improved and the population had grown.  Settlers from off-world had come and Oasis City had once again become a bustling hub.  Still, no matter how hard they tried researchers were just not able to find a sustainable way of irrigating the lands outside of the valley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of the plants and shrubs that grew around the oasis could live for long outside the valley.  Thus there was a limit to the number of people this city could sustain.  In the face of another furious onslaught, there would also be only a limited number of people who could be trained to defend Oasis City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus, weapon technology was at the forefront of research.  Weapons of mass destruction were ruled out because there would be no place to retreat to if they were used over the valley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, no one really understood the necessity of such paranoid measures as that storm had occurred only once!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In recent years especially, there was word that an ancient plant that thrived in desert areas had been found and was being transported to Oasis City.  Its arrival was imminent.  And if it could successfully lead to the conquering of the desert, that would mean the planet could be vastly populated and increased inter-stellar traffic could bring with it protection and news about that fearsome enemy from days of yore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Shouldn’t we get home?” Shaun asked no one in particular.  The three boys still had their faces pressed to the window, watching the gathering storm increase in darkness and ferocity.  “We’re hostelites.  Where can we go?” Raymond remarked, “back to the hostel I suppose. But is that safer?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Residences were located toward the centre of the city while industries and plantations were more toward the outskirts.  Food production plants though were also built closer to the city centre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The school was only a few kilometres from the edge of the city.  Surrounding the city was the city wall.  Thick stone and overlaid with layers of dura-steel, it would take a lot of heavy artillery to bring down the wall.  That said, a wall could only keep ground troops out.  Their enemies could simply fly over the wall.  However, around the city centre, a force field, up to the radius of 50 kilometres, would be activated once the threat of the storm pirates was deemed real.  The PA announcement suggested that the threat was very real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys had a choice.  They came from off-world and their homes were not here on the planet.  Their parents would not be able to get to them once the storm began.  While the rest of the hostelites might be comfortable cowering with the rest of the civilians, the three boys wanted some action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming from farming communities, they had some experience with firearms and were sure that they could handle whatever the Oasis guards were using.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ah, the folly of youth.”  A familiar voice rang out from behind the trio.  They turned to see their lecturer Dr Antonio Weis decked out in military togs complete with gear and rifle.  Understanding their incredulous stares, he explained, “All staff have some form of military training or other you know, we’re not all drones or protocol droids.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys couldn’t believe it.  Dr “C3PO” Tony was militarily trained?  “We want to defend the city,”  Clement managed to say.  “You mean, you want some action, some adventure, some shot at glory!” Dr Tony replied. “Yes!” the trio shouted.&lt;br /&gt;“Come on then,” Dr Tony said evenly.&lt;br /&gt;“Really?” they gushed.&lt;br /&gt;“OF COURSE NOT!!!! What do you think I am? Allowing three kids to go into battle?! There may not even be a battle! We could all get pulverised with the first salvo.  Who knows how many ships those demons have? You’re not even trained! I could go on and on.” Dr Tony exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;“But we can shoot! We’ve had to keep our herds safe from wild creatures and such, so we’ve handled weapons before,” Raymond protested.&lt;br /&gt;Dr Tony looked thoughtful for a while.  Then he nodded, saying, “Alright then.  You’re with me.  I’ll have to speak to my OC but we’re a reserve unit anyway, hopefully, we won’t be called into action.  But you must stick with me at all times.”&lt;br /&gt;“Yes!” the trio exclaimed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-371542979069153342?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/371542979069153342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=371542979069153342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/371542979069153342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/371542979069153342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2010/01/chp-2b.html' title='chp 2b'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-3438735526574378619</id><published>2010-01-11T15:40:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T16:12:00.722+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trinity Sci-fi'/><title type='text'>chp 2a</title><content type='html'>It had started out as boring day for Shaun.  Sitting in the lecture, he had spaced out for a while, staring out the window at the bright sunshine.  He had been trying to read what Clement was typing on his computer but when the text was blocked by Clement’s body, Shaun realised that it would be very obvious to his lecturer that he was more interested in what Clement was doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he had taken to staring out the window.  That’s when he noticed thick grey specks on the horizon.  At least, along the mountain ranges on the horizon.  Rain fell infrequently on the planet, still, grey clouds were nothing spectacular.  However, this time, he noticed that the storm front was very much wider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He softly kicked Clement’s chair.  In response, Clement leaned back while his fingers continued typing without pause.  “Look out the window at the storm front,” Shaun whispered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clement turned his head and squinted.  Then he called up his Instant Message programme and texted a message to another classmate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raymond was sitting at the front of the class but his computer screen was showing the latest results for the city’s football league.   However, Raymond’s eyes were now focused outside the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The storm front was growing wider and darker.  Suddenly, an announcement came through the Public Address system, “Attention all citizens, the government has declared a state of emergency due to the impending storm.  Please return to your homes and stay indoors.  Supplies will be rationed. Looters will be severely dealt with.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh my, the thousand year storm,” the Lecturer remarked as he looked out the window.  Turning back to the class, he dismissed them without any homework, urging them to return home immediately.  Then without waiting for the class to empty, he had left the room and headed to his office.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-3438735526574378619?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/3438735526574378619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=3438735526574378619' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/3438735526574378619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/3438735526574378619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2010/01/chp-2a.html' title='chp 2a'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-6178431180130301969</id><published>2010-01-11T15:07:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T16:12:18.222+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trinity Sci-fi'/><title type='text'>chp 1c</title><content type='html'>The rest of the journey was rather uneventful.  The surprising thing was that the ship didn’t break down at all.  Bert expertly brought the ship into orbit around the planet before breaking into atmosphere.  The sky was unusually cloudy since this was largely a desert planet.  There was one body of water that was icy cold that somehow sustained life around it like an oasis while outside of its periphery the howling winds blew hot, burning sand around the desert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lightning flashed in the distance as the ship skimmed above the clouds.  “It looks like one of those rare thunderstorms we’ve heard about,” Ben remarked.  Bert nodded in agreement.  Soon he aimed the nose down a little more and began to descend into the cloud.  The Nav computer began a soft beeping as it locked onto the landing signal broadcast by a beacon at the city’s landing pad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben put on his headphones and fiddled with the communications equipment.  “I don’t seem to be picking up any signals,” Ben announced, frowning a little.  Bert was now concentrating on keeping the ship headed toward the city as it descended through the clouds.  By now, the winds of the storm and the air-pockets were ensuring that their descent was a bumpy one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The storm was very bad.  As soon as the ship cleared the thick cloud cover, they were met with lightning and heavy rain.  The sky was very dark now and even with the ship’s lights on, there was little visibility.  Ben turned down the illumination in the cockpit so that they could see out the viewports better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bright flashes lit up the sky frequently and then suddenly Bert jerked on the controls as another flash went by the ship.  “That wasn’t lightning!” They both exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they crested a mountain range and entered the airspace overlooking the valley where the city was, they saw the area swarming with all sorts of craft.  There were spacecraft and craft designed for atmospheric flying only. Tanks and other ground vehicles were moving around on the valley floor, their presence announced by lasers and tracer shells criss-crossing the valley and the occasional shots up toward the sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bert slammed on the brakes and killed the ship’s lights.  The wind was making it hard to hover and the mountain peaks were craggy.  Ben checked the Nav computer to see if there was a suitable landing site on the mountain range.  “Come on, can’t the computer work any faster?” Bert asked, “It will only be a matter of time before somebody spots us.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another stray shot of laser flashed past the ship but Bert held the ship steady.  The hull of the ship was painted black so even though the laser shot would have lighted her up, it might not have been noticed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, got one good spot,” Ben announced, “I’ve fed the data into the autopilot.” Bert shook his head, saying, “Are you crazy? You’d trust the autopilot to land this thing in this kind of weather?”  Still, it was better than trying to do it visually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bert reluctantly flipped the controls over to the autopilot and the ship immediately started to rock as the autopilot began to compensate for the buffeting by the winds.  Then slowly, it began to inch forwards and downwards towards the landing spot.  Miraculously, the ship’s computer landed the ship in one piece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, the battle over the valley was raging on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-6178431180130301969?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/6178431180130301969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=6178431180130301969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/6178431180130301969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/6178431180130301969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2010/01/chp-1c.html' title='chp 1c'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-9081521936285925627</id><published>2010-01-11T15:06:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T16:12:30.789+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trinity Sci-fi'/><title type='text'>chp 1b</title><content type='html'>Suddenly the ship lurched as Bert changed gears and sent them into a side-slip.  “Bert! Why are we drifting?! There aren’t any corners in space!” Ben exclaimed as he held on to his nav console.  “Ah! But we’re passing close to a planet so I can use the gravitational pull to slingshot us around the other side and save us some fuel!” Bert gleefully replied.  Ben knew the manoeuvre.  It had been first performed by some really ancient space travellers trying to catch up to a giant meteoroid that was headed to their home planet.  Apparently, it worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ship groaned as the metal plates strained against their bolts and then suddenly, Bert floored the accelerator for a short burst of fuel and they were through. The noise dropped to a hum as the ship drifted out of the planet’s gravitational pull at high speed.&lt;br /&gt;The Nav computer beeped and Ben saw that they would arrive at their destination 3 hours ahead of time.  “Well, good job… but maybe a little warning ahead of time would be helpful,” Ben remarked.  Bert shrugged, “Whatever you say Cap’n.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-9081521936285925627?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/9081521936285925627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=9081521936285925627' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/9081521936285925627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/9081521936285925627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2010/01/chp-1b.html' title='chp 1b'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-3090168469818634574</id><published>2010-01-11T15:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T15:04:53.817+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trinity Sci-fi'/><title type='text'>Chp 1a</title><content type='html'>A spaceship hurtled through the dark void of space, its engines screaming at an angry whining annoying pitch that shouldn’t have happened because sound shouldn’t travel in a vacuum.  Or does it? Well, sounds definitely travels within the confines of the piece of le se of a ship. No, that wasn’t fair, Ben thought.  He lived on this ship.  It was home.  It was a mite old-ish and in danger of falling apart.  That was why he thought of it as trash.  However, he did buy it 2nd hand.  Actually it might have been 100th hand for all he knew, used-spaceship dealers were seldom upfront about what their stuff had gone through.  Still, it had been cheap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting at the helm, Bert kept his foot on the pedal that kept the fuel pumping into the engines of the ship that kept the ship hurtling through space that kept them on schedule for their current delivery job.  Ben may have bought the ship but he was certain that he couldn’t fly it very well, especially when there were gears to be changed.  So Ben had found Bert at the usual seedy bar-type cantinas depicted in all the old sci-fi classics.  Bert had been regaling the anyone who would listen to him talk about his exploits in the great war piloting the renown Millennium Falcon.  He was drawing great laughs because EVERYBODY knew it was General Han Solo and Chewbacca who piloted the Falcon, except during the attack on the 2nd Death Star when General Lando Calrissian took the helm.  It was only after Bert got off the stage that Ben realised Bert was a stand-up comic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, Bert did have a legitimate driving license and his own cramped crate, out of which he lived and relied on for travelling to his sets, was becoming decrepit.  So when Ben approached him to be the pilot of his ship, Bert readily agreed. It was a good deal because Bert could keep his job as a comic, have a place to stay, and earn a little commission from the delivery service they provided. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben sat huddled over his navigation console.  If there was anything he could do, it was to read a map.  Well, the nav computer helped. Besides the falling prices of technology made Galaxy Positioning Systems affordable.  Still, one had to either purchase star maps or find them via utorrent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-3090168469818634574?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/3090168469818634574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=3090168469818634574' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/3090168469818634574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/3090168469818634574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2010/01/chp-1a.html' title='Chp 1a'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-6435346045244246474</id><published>2010-01-11T14:57:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T15:02:06.976+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trinity Sci-fi'/><title type='text'>Just another space story...</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;o:officedocumentsettings&gt;   &lt;o:allowpng/&gt;  &lt;/o:OfficeDocumentSettings&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:trackmoves&gt;false&lt;/w:TrackMoves&gt;   &lt;w:trackformatting/&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing&gt;18 pt&lt;/w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing&gt;   &lt;w:drawinggridverticalspacing&gt;18 pt&lt;/w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing&gt;   &lt;w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery&gt;0&lt;/w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery&gt;   &lt;w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery&gt;0&lt;/w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;    &lt;w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:dontvertalignintxbx/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt; &lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */ @font-face  {font-family:Arial;  panose-1:2 11 6 4 2 2 2 2 2 4;  mso-font-charset:0;  mso-generic-font-family:auto;  mso-font-pitch:variable;  mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face  {font-family:Cambria;  panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;  mso-font-charset:0;  mso-generic-font-family:auto;  mso-font-pitch:variable;  mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face  {font-family:"Blavicke Capitals";  panose-1:2 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;  mso-font-charset:0;  mso-generic-font-family:auto;  mso-font-pitch:variable;  mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}  /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal  {mso-style-parent:"";  margin-top:0cm;  margin-right:0cm;  margin-bottom:10.0pt;  margin-left:0cm;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:12.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-ascii-font-family:Arial;  mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;  mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-hansi-font-family:Arial;  mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;  mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;} @page Section1  {size:612.0pt 792.0pt;  margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt;  mso-header-margin:36.0pt;  mso-footer-margin:36.0pt;  mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1  {page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt; &lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable  {mso-style-name:"Table Normal";  mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;  mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;  mso-style-noshow:yes;  mso-style-parent:"";  mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;  mso-para-margin-top:0cm;  mso-para-margin-right:0cm;  mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;  mso-para-margin-left:0cm;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:12.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;  mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;  mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;  mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 24pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Blavicke Capitals&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-GB"&gt;O&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;" lang="EN-GB"&gt;nce upon a time, in a galaxy far far away…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;" lang="EN-GB"&gt;It was 9am.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Classes were in session but Shaun wondered how many of his classmates were awake.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The droning voice of the teacher went on and on.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;All around, students were hunched over their mobile computers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Most were taking notes, some were surfing the Internet and one was busy typing away, not quite paying attention to what went on around him, lost in his own daydream, writing down what looked like a story.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Shaun read over his friend’s shoulder in the hope that prose flowing from a half-awake, daydreaming student might be infinitesimally more interesting than the drone of C3P0.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-6435346045244246474?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/6435346045244246474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=6435346045244246474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/6435346045244246474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/6435346045244246474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2010/01/just-another-space-story.html' title='Just another space story...'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-4762722147016686192</id><published>2009-02-17T22:14:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T22:20:35.439+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Outside Adventures in the Glue'/><title type='text'>Autumn Leaves Falling Against the Auburn Sky</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Autumn leaves falling against the auburn sky.  A little baby, wrapped in soft purple cloth, lies beneath a tree.  A wandering street performer stops by the bundle gurgling happily in the evening breeze.  He notices a piece of jade peeking out from the folds of the cloth.  He reaches for it.  The baby grabs his fingers with its tiny hands.  “A strong grip for one so young,” he whispers.  He picks up the jade piece.  A dragon carved in emerald jade.  A sachet of fragrance lies behind the jade.  Its workmanship is exquisite.  “You were born to be raised to know the four arts of chess, zither, literature and art.  A lady worth a thousand gold.  But the cards heaven has dealt you leaves you with two choices.  To learn my trade and live a vagrant life or to lie here and wait for death to claim you.  Which do you choose, little one?”  The baby grabs his fingers again.  It holds them fiercely.  It seems he saw fire in the little one’s eyes.  “Undoubtedly you shall inherit the dragon as your surname. As for your name, this autumn evening marks the beginning of your new life. Welcome to the world, Long Qiu Xia.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;051103.0059&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-4762722147016686192?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/4762722147016686192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=4762722147016686192' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/4762722147016686192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/4762722147016686192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2009/02/autumn-leaves-falling-against-auburn.html' title='Autumn Leaves Falling Against the Auburn Sky'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-85247132674595049</id><published>2008-10-16T10:57:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T22:14:33.901+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures in the Glue'/><title type='text'>Civilization - Scene 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:12.0pt;text-indent:36.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language:EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;C2 Scene 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:12.0pt;text-indent:36.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language:EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;The gang traveled to where the brook joined the river and realized that they needed to look for a crossing.  Although the river didn't look like it was flowing very swiftly nor was it very wide, they were not sure that they should attempt wading across.  As they had all learnt during English lessons - Still waters run deep.  The river was clear and the pebbles on the bottom could be clearly seen.  This was a far cry from the man-made storm drains and concrete reinforced rivers back home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Ben knelt down by the river and dipped his hands into the water.  It was nice and cool. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"Wah, this water's really tempting.  I feel like going in for a dip," he said. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; "Yeah, I guess this should be upstream so its ok eh?" James responded.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Ben laughed, "Less chance of a UFO encounter huh?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"UFO?" Edwin asked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"Yeah, Unidentified Floating Object. Aka 'sai'," Ben answered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"Well, the city's pretty far off and its almost midday, I think we might want to find our bridge quickly so that we can get to the city before the gates close," Castor said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"Either bridge or river ferry. Y'know, like we always see in kung-fu movies?" Vince added.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"Yup.  Let's go," CK said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;The gang walked on for about 5 minutes when suddenly Ben stopped again.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"What now?" Vince asked.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"I just thought of something.  Chew-kor was floating in the cave just now right? So why can't we all just use our 'qinggong' and walk on water? You know, like 'cao shang fei'," Ben said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"That's a good idea, except 'cao shang fei' is 'flying on grass tips', that's water we're trying to cross," Vince chided.  'Qinggong' is the generic term any form of martial art ability regarding movement - either in speed or weightlessness. Vince was something of a fan of kung-fu novels so he had done some research and was considered the gang's authority on things Chinese.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"I know! then we can use 'qing ting dian shui'!" Ben exclaimed, "'dragonfly touches the water surface', is an appropriate skill."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"Oh man, why are we having this discussion?" CK asked, "it's not like we know any of those skills! We're not in the cave anymore."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"Also, maybe its not so wise to show off what we can do. It might attract unwanted attention." Castor added, before walking on.  The rest followed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"There really isn't anyone around to notice us.  I'm sure its worth the try," Ben said as he walked beside Castor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Edwin, who was just behind, said, "But what if you failed to clear the river in a single bound? Or your light as a dragonfly's touch on the surface doesn't give you enough tension to spring forward? How are we going to fish you out?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Ben turned to Edwin and pouted playfully, "Then I get the dip I wanted."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"If you want a dip so bad, we could just push you in," Castor said and gave Ben a shove.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Ben regained his balance and laughed along with the others.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"Yo, guys, we got company."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 36.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;James' remark sobered the gang a little. They had crested a small rise and arrived at a well-used track. A single horse drawn cart was cantering toward them.  They stared curiously at the driver and his passenger.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-85247132674595049?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/85247132674595049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=85247132674595049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/85247132674595049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/85247132674595049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2008/10/chapter-2-scene-2.html' title='Civilization - Scene 2'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-6392913245087770673</id><published>2008-10-05T22:49:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T22:14:12.907+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures in the Glue'/><title type='text'>Civilisation - Scene 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Scene 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Leaving the mountains behind, the gang trekked steadily down the lower hills toward the city.  The valley was lush and green.  A short distance away, a brook made its way down to the the valley floor where it joined a river that flowed through the city.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Between them, they had the clothes they were wearing, the six laser guns with harness and the ability to use some sort of internal energy, like 'qi', to enable them to move faster, hit harder or expel it like a Jedi Force Push.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The downside to this ability was hat they didn't know how long it would last or whether the energy would recover itself if depleted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Well, since we're here we might as well enjoy it," Castor said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Dude, we should be trying to find a way to get back home," CK replied.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Yeah, but we're stuck here till then, ain't we? And its not like we have any idea where 'here' is!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Castor retorted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Eh, we also might want to figure out what language we're going to use," Vincent added, "I'm not sure if they speak our kind of Mandarin or some early dialect."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The gang stopped.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That was a question they hadn't seriously considered.  Were they in Qing Dynasty China?  The soldiers they had encountered earlier wore uniforms that looked like they were from the Qing period.  How were they going to communicate?  Being Singaporean had its advantages.  To a certain extent, they were somewhat multi-lingual.  Mandarin and English came easily to them.  Furthermore, between the six of them, they also understood and spoke some Cantonese, Teochew, Hokkien and a wee bit of Japanese and Malay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Well, assuming we're still in China.." Ben started speaking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Assuming, we arrived in China in the first place," James interrupted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Ya, there's no way of telling whether that blinding flash of light sent us to another dimension or just back in time," Vincent added&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"So, that's the first thing we need to do," Edwin concluded, "find out where we actually are!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The others nodded in agreement and the gang set off once more toward the city; toward civilization.  At least, they hoped the people were civilized.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;text-indent: 36px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style=" ;font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-6392913245087770673?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/6392913245087770673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=6392913245087770673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/6392913245087770673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/6392913245087770673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2008/10/civilisation.html' title='Civilisation - Scene 1'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-112081270747838919</id><published>2005-07-08T16:45:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T22:12:58.715+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures in the Glue'/><title type='text'>Chapter 1 - Journey to the Glue</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The sky slowly darkened as the blazing sun began to set. It was a welcome change to the intense heat that the city had been experiencing lately. Castor watched the people hurrying by, going in and out of City Hall MRT station. Occasionally, a pretty girl would pass by, that made the wait easier. He sighed. It was a boring existence, in a country where nothing really happens. His watch beeped. 1700 hrs it read. They're late, he thought as he took a deep breath. "I'm not late!" a voice called from behind. Castor turned. Ben stood there smiling at him. "Didn't you come by MRT?" Castor asked. Ben shook his head and said," Nope, took a bus." Then looking around continued, " Where are the others?" Just as he spoke, Chee Keong and Vincent walked up to the pair. "Hey, guys." Vincent said. "Where's James?" James walked out of the MRT station. After a quick glance, he spotted his friends, and jogged up to them. "OK, we're all here," James said," Shall we go?" The group started walking toward Marina Square.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another typical Saturday outing with the gang, Ben thought. It was almost a ritual. The five of them had been classmates in Secondary school and somehow had stuck together ever since. Though each one now was in a different phase of life, still they kept meeting and catching up with one another; as they were doing now. Today, James had convinced the rest to go and try out the new game in Marina Square where players were armed with laser guns, put on sensors and went into a maze to shoot each other. Singaporeans needed such facilities to release their frustrations and live out their Rambo fantasies. The problem was a lack of real fun. "What's the name of that place again?" Ben asked. "It's called Laser Quest," James replied. Ben nodded. The 5 friends continued their walk toward Marina Square.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben was on point. The corridor was hazy with the smoke churned out by a machine. The place was dimly lit so that laser shots fired could be easily seen. Following behind him were the rest of the gang. They were the Red team. The 'enemy' was the Blue team. Made up of strangers who were also looking for fun. So far, they had made a few kills and managed to keep a clean slate. Having basic military knowledge helped, Ben thought. The five of them had all been through National Service. And though only Chee Keong was in a combat vocation all the way, each of them had gone through the Basic Military Training Phase. Those on the Blue team were mainly teenagers, kids whose training came from watching gung-ho movies. Ben peeked around the corner. He saw 3 members of the Blue team with their backs toward him. Where are the others? He thought, lying in ambush? Is that possible? Probably, Ben decided, never underestimate your enemy. He turned and told the rest what lay around the corner. James suggested they just go for it, after all it was just a game. "Let them get a few shots at us," he said. So the gang stepped around the corner, guns blazing. Suddenly a bright flash of light engulfed them and blinded them. Pain shot through their bodies. Then all was quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chee Keong, nicknamed Panda because he was built like one, opened his eyes. The surroundings were quiet, dark, yet the air smelt fresh. It was misty, not the heavy, smelly machine-created smoke. He sat up. The floor was cold and rocky; it had been carpeted a moment ago. Something stirred beside him. He looked down and saw that it was Vincent. "Hey, Vince, wake up." He whispered, not knowing why he didn't want to break the silence. Vincent groaned and pushed himself up. "Where are we?" He asked. Panda shrugged. Vincent and Panda looked around. They were in a cavern of some sort and there was a light in the distance. "This like some science fiction movie," Chee Keong remarked, "Look, there's even a light at the end of the tunnel." Vincent smiled. "Ike-masho?" Vincent asked in Japanese. It was a phrase he was fond of adding since he studied the language. It meant "Shall we go?"Panda shrugged and started toward the light. Both of them realised that they still had their "Laser" guns with them. "Might come in handy," Vincent reasoned. So they carried their equipment with them. As they neared the mouth of the cave, they heard some shouting, as if there was a fight going on. They cautiously peered out of the cave. The warm rays of the sun shone on their faces but they did not have time to appreciate it. Down below, at the foot of the hill they saw James, Castor and Ben running from a group of soldiers clad in what looked like Qing dynasty uniforms. And they were heading toward Vincent and Chee Keong.A thought suddenly hit Vincent and he raised his gun, took aim at the leading soldier. Chee Keong turned and stared at Vincent. "You're kidding." He said. Vincent responded by squeezing the trigger. A burst of light shot out of the gun and hit the soldier in the chest, knocking him off his feet and burning a hole in his uniform. Everybody stopped and stared. Then Vincent let loose a few more shots around the soldiers, kicking up stone and gravel. James and the rest ran up the hill toward the cave while the soldiers picked up the wounded and ran in the opposite direction. The 5 of them peered out of the cave. Nothing seemed to be moving outside. They moved in a little deeper into the cave and settled down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How did you do that?" James asked Vince. Vincent shrugged and said, "I don't know. I just thought about the gun being able to fire real laser and squeezed the trigger. It really happened." The five looked at the gun lying on the floor. Ben picked it up from the floor and pointed it toward the mouth of the cave. "You think if I squeeze the trigger this thing'll go off?" Ben asked, looking at the rest of the gang. Their looks told him to go ahead and try it. Gently, Ben squeezed the trigger and the gun jumped in his hand as a beam of light shot out of the cave. Ben put the gun back on the floor. "Well, at least we can defend ourselves for some time, assuming that this gun will run out of power." Ben said. Everyone sat deep in thought trying to make some sense of the events that had transpired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly CK got up and thrust his right arm toward the wall of the cave with his palm facing outwards. He looked like he was delivering a blow of some sort. The next thing came as a shock to all present. The wall exploded and scattered bits and pieces of stone all over them. "No, I don't believe it. It's the 'Divine Panda Palm'." Vincent exclaimed. CK looked at the them. "I just thought about it and did it." He said. "Wait. You're telling me that whatever we think of, that's what will happen?" Castor asked. Ben suddenly jumped up and started leaping off the walls of the cave. He took a long leap into the back of the cave and while he was doing a better 'Air Walk' than Michael Jordan, he thrust out his arms in the same fashion as CK. At the far end of the cave, the walls shook and pieces of rock were blown away. Ben landed in a pose a la Wong Fei Hong. This was too good to be true. Suddenly everyone was leaping around blasting rocks out of the wall with their new found skill. "This is incredible." James said, looking at his hands. Vincent looked the others standing on the ground. "Hey, I've been floating here for quite some time but I don't really feel tired." He said. The rest looked up. One by one they leapt up and thought about staying there. They did. Then Castor began to laugh. "Why, what's so funny?" Ben asked. Castor put up his hand like a stop sign and paused to catch his breath, before saying, " I suddenly had this urge to wear my underwear on the outside."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-112081270747838919?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/112081270747838919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=112081270747838919' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/112081270747838919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/112081270747838919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2005/07/chapter-1-gang-go-back-to-ancient.html' title='Chapter 1 - Journey to the Glue'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14269950.post-112073088448931666</id><published>2005-07-07T18:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T18:08:04.493+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It is always good to have a new start every once in a while.  In this case, it is a new start after a looooooooooong time.  The link to the original Lair of The Wolf will lead you to discover why I say that.  Anyway, I hope to be able to share some original stories and my other works as well as works of friends... anyway, now that it is so easy to do stuff like that I'm actually thinking of starting a story where each person gets to write a part of - limited by the number of characters a post allows...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;That would be kinda interesting don't you think?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14269950-112073088448931666?l=benlewolf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/feeds/112073088448931666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14269950&amp;postID=112073088448931666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/112073088448931666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14269950/posts/default/112073088448931666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://benlewolf.blogspot.com/2005/07/first-post.html' title='The First Post'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06845526951890919137</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
