Reflections on Barsoom, Part 3

3. The Naked Truth of Mars

If the past is prologue Disney, currently helming the John Carter of Mars project, is not likely to rush to take up the baton of aboriginal rights. This studio ran like a scared cat to the editing room to alter a brief segment from Fantasia that featured cartoon Centaurettes. The fact faux nudity and/or characterizations of fantasy creatures in a cartoon bothered anyone would be funny, if it weren't so ridiculous. But, to be fair, that anyone felt a cartoon required editing for content is a sign of shifting attitudes. What once didn't raise an eyebrow several decades ago becomes scandalous, or politically incorrect, today and so too might attitudes that obtain today seem archaic or puritanical decades from now.

How non-Aboriginal cultures treat depictions of aboriginal cultures often reveal far more about the non-Aboriginal culture than the true state of the aborigines themselves. One need look no further than documentaries aired on channels like PBS, Discovery, History, The Learning Channel, et al to see how such programs come saddled with warnings about "indigenous nudity" and, more often than not, blurring and digital fogging. Yet the MPAA rubberstamps movies depicting amoral violence in which it's okay (by their standards) to display eviscerated human bodies and internal organs yet, unbelievably, insanely, a woman's bared breast or buttocks must be blotted out as verboten to see. What this says about our culture, and it's self-anointed blowhard watchdogs, is too disturbing to contemplate here.

Nudity, in and of itself, is neither salacious nor provocative. Nor is it pornographic or erotic. It merely is. One does not become any less human, or worthy of dignity, because one has disrobed or lacks apparel. If this were the case no one would ever take off their clothes to bathe. We are born naked, not wearing burkas. Strip us of our trappings of culture and civilization and we become little more than naked apes, do we not?

Such reflections are at the core of the Barsoom novel series. For while nude John Carter is never truly naked, for he retains his wit. Edgar Rice Burroughs novels remind us it is intellect, not clothing, or trappings of civilization, that separate mankind from primates. Yet another reason for the lack of clothing on Barsoom, besides lack of resources for extensive textile manufacture, may be environmental. Extremes of heat and humidity may make it impractical for a primitive culture- or a culture with limited agricultural resources teetering on the brink of collapse, as is the case on Barsoom- to have more than rudimentary and crude textiles. Yet this does not preclude the use of skins or furs. Such certainly seems to be the case on Barsoom, or so we can extrapolate based on the following passage from Warlord of Mars:

The moment we entered the city Talu threw off his outer garments of fur, as did we, and I saw that his apparel differed but little from that of the red races of Barsoom. Except for his leathern harness, covered thick with jewels and metal, he was naked, nor could one have comfortably worn apparel in that warm and humid atmosphere.

Remember the examples of Frazetta's artwork? They're relatively timid and decorous in comparison to the reality of Barsoom as writ. And this is what Disney is planning to adapt into a movie? It doesn't make sense. Already the speculation is circulating with articles like `John Carter of Mars': Will It Dethrone `Twilight' As The Best Romance Flick? Viz:

"While “Twilight” fends off “True Blood” for supremacy over the vampire romance market, the Stephenie Meyer-penned series might have an unlikely lovelorn competitor to contend with — the newly announced “John Carter of Mars” starring Taylor Kitsch could well be Hollywood’s next romantic hit."

As are concerns such as: Disney to Fast Track John Carter of Mars Film:

John Carter is about as Disneyfiable as Tarzan is: In other words, not very. Worse, John Carter was a filthy Confederate reb. That's part and parcel of the character, and while Carter never really shows any racist tendencies in the novel (he does, after all, get along exceedingly well with both the green and red men of Mars), it's an integral part of his character, part of what makes him unique. Disney would whitewash that. And it's hard to believe Pixar would do justice to the visceral bloodshed, violence and carnage of Burroughs' classic martian pulp novels.

The worry is Disney will treat this like the typical Hollywood "property" and hire a hack to make-up their own story, slap the Barsoom name on it, and thus exploit Edgar Rice Burroughs novels to make a quick buck. The marketing possibilities if Disney turns this into a costume epic ala Pirates of the Caribbean, as the director already has indicated is the plan, are extensive. The money Disney could potentially rake in on product tie-ins with clothing lines, T-shirts targeted at 'tweens, fast food chains, action figures and their accessories, Halloween costumes, and plush toys shamelessly targeted at children will likely be phenomenal.

Alas, with the director announcing, before shooting so much as a single frame of film, this will be rated PG-13, and a PG-13 'tween flick at that, John Carter of Mars isn't likely to qualify as a faithful representation of Edgar Rice Burroughs Barsoom. It may be a pallid Goldkey version but not likely the Barsoom of A Princess of Mars. This may have critics crying foul and asking if Disney hasn't purchased their MPAA rating and that's why the project, which has languished in limbo for decades, is suddenly getting "fast tracked". There's lots of money at stake, yet so too is the literary vision of Edgar Rice Burroughs.

If Disney follows the usual pattern licensed products will be pushed into retail stores all across the country as part of the marketing blitz leading up to the release of the feature film. If we're lucky this may include new deluxe editions of the novels. And, this being Disney, there may even be a John Carter of Mars ride at Disneyland. That could be fun. But Barsoom isn't a carnival funhouse, it's not a joyride, nor should it be portrayed as such.

Studios buy the rights to something and (too often) just ignore the source material and make up an entirely different story, slap on the title of the "property" and wait for the suckers to buy tickets. It's repulsive. But it's business as usual in Hollywood. Yet, if you were to pull this kind of shell game in the food industry by advertising, say, salmon on your menu but serving catfish instead you'd be put out of business and probably fined, if not thrown into jail. Is it that Hollywood doesn't care? They say they respect authors' and their work, yet the movies they produce say otherwise. It's mind-boggling.

So what if Disney isn't likely to have the moral courage to present a candid and true representation of the aboriginals of Barsoom. They're a corporation, not cultural anthropologists. Should we hate them for wanting to make money? It's not like Disney is in the business of shaking kids down for their lunch money. At least there is going to be some version of Barsoom on the big screen, that's a good thing, right?

For those interested in the real Barsoom the full text of the novel "A Princess of Mars" can be downloaded from these sites: Project Gutenberg, Books Should be Free, and can be read online here: http://www.hoboes.com/FireBlade/Texts/Princess/. Those looking for more information on Barsoom or the works of Edgar Rice Burroughs should visit the following sites: Barsoom, Barsoomia, Official Edgar Rice Burroughs Tribute and Weekly Webzine Site, or The Robert E. Howard United Press Association. There's also some old concept art for Set Sketches for John Carter of Mars (1970's version), More John Carter, More JCOM, here's a page of Rare Unreleased John Carter of Mars Illustrations and, of course, there's always the artwork of Julie Bell and Boris Vellejo:

# End of Line

Copyright © C. Demetrius Morgan

Reflections on Barsoom, Part 2

2. The Artistic Vision of Mars

Art reflects not only the mores and attitudes of the culture in which it is produced but reflects the sensibilities of the times in which it was created. While most readers familiar with the Barsoom novels may envision Edgar Rice Burroughs' hero, John Carter, and his adventures on Mars as portrayed in the artwork of Frank Frazetta:

That work represents but one artistic vision of Barsoom. Yet a quick Google for "Princess of Mars" turns up an ad containing this iconic model kit representation of Dejah Thoris:

Look for fan art online and this is an example of what you'll find:

Obviously that's inspired by master illustrator Frank Frazetta's work. Thus this artistic vision of Barsoom has obtained as the popular one. Granted times, and cultural mores, change. A Princess of Mars was first published circa 1912 as a multi-part serial in All-Story magazine. And it was portrayed quite differently way back when:

Yet it is Frazetta's work which is remembered for it more faithfully captures Barsoom as written in the novels. Yet even Frazetta's art was somewhat inhibited. For comparison here's an example of fan art for the character Dejah Thoris:

Actually, as you may have noticed, this particular character is far more prominent in the artwork than is the titular hero. Dejah Thoris has become an iconic figure, so no pressure on the director or actors, yet if fans don't get something like. .

Or perhaps. .

Or maybe even something like. .

The 'fan boys' will probably really get nasty, though not without just cause. Disney is synonymous will family friendly entertainment. That begs the question: What are they doing buying the rights to a pulp adventure series in which the characters seem to be either naked or half naked most of the time? Viz.

I looked first at my lifeless clay there upon the floor of the cave and then down at myself in utter bewilderment; for there I lay clothed, and yet here I stood but naked as at the minute of my birth.

Naked and unarmed as I was, I had no desire to face the unseen thing which menaced me.

With the exception of their ornaments all were naked.

She was as destitute of clothes as the green Martians who accompanied her; indeed, save for her highly wrought ornaments she was entirely naked, nor could any apparel have enhanced the beauty of her perfect and symmetrical figure.

There are two ways to interpret this. The characters are either totally nude or they aren't. Naked can imply defenseless, unprotected, exposed, or without covering (as of hair or fur). The word's meaning depends on context. In the above the context is clear, it's used in reference to a character without apparel or clothing. Yet, as typical of many primitive cultures with limited textile resources, they are not entirely lacking ornamental adornments; thus in the context of their culture they are neither naked nor nude. It is only through the prism of our own culture that they appear so.

So why did the author portray the aboriginal inhabitants of Mars this way at all? Surely he must have been aware of this fact?

Indeed he was!

The characters are 'nude' in the novels not for salacious effect but because nudity was, once upon a time, viewed as being metaphoric for a return to an Eden-like state of primal grace. Yet the author also knew that their was a fine line between the "noble naked savage" and the merely "naked savage" and thus it is left to the reader to make their own mind up about the nature of the natives of Mars. Alas, in our contemporary society of the relative present, expressions of sexuality have fallen victim to politically correct fascism. In the lemming rush to judgment nudity has become viewed by purveyors of dogmatic Political Correctness as salacious and impure. This poses a dilemma since the main alien antagonists, a race of being called Tharks, and indeed most of the inhabitants of Barsoom, don't really wear clothes. Then again neither does every culture on our own planet. Witness the following images of Xingu natives of the Amazon river basin in Brazil:

Despite elements of modern influence in their dress their traditional ceremonial garb remains rather minimal, aside from body paint/tatoo art and beads. .

But are they nude or merely naked? Perhaps they are neither. There has always existed a double standard where depictions of aboriginal cultures in their so-called "native state" exist. Edgar Rice Burroughs pulled no punches with his writing about the aborigines of Barsoom, which is perhaps why his novels are so well received. They possess a reality as gritty and candid as any National Geographic article about native cultures. Alas few Hollywood studious have the moral, or intestinal, fortitude to stand up and treat aboriginals and their culture, even fictionalized representations, with the respect they deserve.

But what does this mean for the John Carter of Mars movie adaptation?

# to be concluded in Part 3

Copyright © C. Demetrius Morgan

Reflections on Barsoom, Part 1

"This piece is something of a follow-up to last weeks John Carter of Mars is GO! examining certain concerns about the announced movie adaptation. It really began as a reply to a comment and just sort of ballooned into an full on article. While a bit long and dry in places I hope it isn't a entirely dull read. - KP

1. The Harsh Reality of Mars

If memory serves there's been talk of adapting Edgar Rice Burroughs' Barsoom novels for the big screen for quite some time, the first almost-was production being an animated feature circa the 1930s then the almost-was Ray Harryhausen version discussed circa the 1980s. Paramount also had the rights circa 2000, but nothing much came of their attempt either. There may have been other aborted projects but these seem to be the best known almost-got-made attempts. So what's the hold up? What's the difficulty?

Perhaps the biggest obstacle are the novels themselves. These are old school pulp science fiction written not just in a time before political correctness but in a era when ideas about utopianism, naturism, socialism, eugenics (betterment of the species through selective breeding and/or genetic enhancement), and progressivism were being explored. Too, herein are aliens that are truly alien- not merely humans dressed up in bad costumes with prosthetic foreheads- and unabashed sexism. Or rather what the post-PC world would view as sexism. The hero, John Carter, is the epitome of what contemporary post-modern feminists would derogatorily refer to as an testosterone fueled chauvinistic male.

Why are these problems? Aside from the potentially awkward "politically incorrect" aspects there has been a shift in our social mores and attitudes. John Carter comes from an era when men were expected to be men, meaning self-reliant individuals who think for themselves and bow to no one. That's quite a departure from the prevailing mentality in our contemporary genuflecting victim culture. Too, the Tharks pose unique challenges all their own as they look like this:

Easy to do in animation or a CGI environment but difficult to do in a live-action movie. And that's just one of many strange looking creatures inhabiting Barsoom. Which explains why Pixar is involved.

Burroughs' Martians also seem to be an idealized eugenic society presaging the current trends in "green" eco-progressivism demanding the exertion of control over not merely the environment, per se, but how humanity lives (and dies) within it. Witness the following passage from A Princess of Mars:

I do not mean that the adult Martians are unnecessarily or intentionally cruel to the young, but theirs is a hard and pitiless struggle for existence upon a dying planet, the natural resources of which have dwindled to a point where the support of each additional life means an added tax upon the community into which it is thrown.

By careful selection they rear only the hardiest specimens of each species, and with almost supernatural foresight they regulate the birth rate to merely offset the loss by death.

Each adult Martian female brings forth about thirteen eggs each year, and those which meet the size, weight, and specific gravity tests are hidden in the recesses of some subterranean vault where the temperature is too low for incubation. Every year these eggs are carefully examined by a council of twenty chieftains, and all but about one hundred of the most perfect are destroyed out of each yearly supply. At the end of five years about five hundred almost perfect eggs have been chosen from the thousands brought forth. These are then placed in the almost air-tight incubators to be hatched by the sun's rays after a period of another five years. The hatching which we had witnessed today was a fairly representative event of its kind, all but about one per cent of the eggs hatching in two days. If the remaining eggs ever hatched we knew nothing of the fate of the little Martians. They were not wanted, as their offspring might inherit and transmit the tendency to prolonged incubation, and thus upset the system which has maintained for ages and which permits the adult Martians to figure the proper time for return to the incubators, almost to an hour.

The incubators are built in remote fastnesses, where there is little or no likelihood of their being discovered by other tribes. The result of such a catastrophe would mean no children in the community for another five years. I was later to witness the results of the discovery of an alien incubator.

While the term eugenics has become disused or carefully tiptoed around this is only because when taken to it's extreme it can become a dogmatic doctrine of racial purity. Such a doctrine was espoused by Nazi eugenicists, but then any science taken to extremes can become sinister. It is important to remember that Mr. Burroughs was not alone in writing about such thematic issues in his novels and that they were written long before the Nazi's came to power in Germany. Nor does the fact John Carter was a officer of the Confederacy bear any greater implications beyond the facts as laid out in the opening chapter of A Princess of Mars; namely that our would be hero finds himself destitute and adrift:

At the close of the Civil War I found myself possessed of several hundred thousand dollars (Confederate) and a captain's commission in the cavalry arm of an army which no longer existed; the servant of a state which had vanished with the hopes of the South. Masterless, penniless, and with my only means of livelihood, fighting, gone, I determined to work my way to the southwest and attempt to retrieve my fallen fortunes in a search for gold.

John Carter, formerly Captain of the Army of Virginia, was thus a man who found himself handed the shit end of fortune's stick yet managed to turn it around to his advantage. These facts form the thread from which the world of Barsoom was woven. Pull one out, white wash the facts, or substitute other threads and it is no longer Edgar Rice Burroughs Barsoom.

The current Barsoom project, tentatively titled John Carter of Mars, was first announced sometime circa 2006 or 2007, after Disney acquired the rights from Paramount, and, needless to say, this has had numerous actors and directors attached to it over the years. But, if the news from last week is any indication, it seems Disney/Pixar has finally decided to green light the project. More than that it appears this is planned to be a trilogy. But will it be Edgar Rice Burroughs Barsoom that makes it to the big screen?

One can only hope this adaptation wont be turned into some ludicrous, nonsensical, piece of garbage aimed at ADD riddled 'tweens and thus avoid the fate that befell the Land of the Lost movie. Alas this is Disney and Hollywood, where the odds that any adaptation will be faithful to the source material are slim to none. That may be a cynical view but then Hollywood is a cynical town. Then again considering this is also a Pixar movie that means there should be some potentially awesome CGI, I say potentially because Pixar does animated movies well but it remains to be seen how well they will be able to integrate their work into a live-action feature. Hopefully they'll do the VFX very well.

Despite this silver lining the fact remains it's a Disney production. One can't help but despair that what will be produced is a dumbed down, white washed, politically correct version of Barsoom. How much of the Barsoom found in Mr. Burroughs' novels will actually make it onto the screen? Sadly given the current trend to pander to the 'tween demographic with tweaked-out adventures one can only hope the worst that will be done is John Carter of Mars will be turned into a action adventure comedy with a romance subplot.

# to be continued in Part 2

Copyright © C. Demetrius Morgan

Galactica Saga: Phoenix Rising - Part 1, Act 4

Galactica Saga

Phoenix Rising - Part 1, Act 4

By C. Demetrius Morgan

From the Aella Chronicle:

Some say no one remembers how the war with the Cylons began. It began innocently enough. We sent out exploratory vessels thousands of yahren ago, because we knew we weren't alone. Our moldering histories turned myth and legend told us about the myriad worlds our ancestors trod upon, the colonies they established, and the worlds of primitives they brought the light of civilization to.

We knew, out there, somewhere, brothers of man waited us. Sadly we had no idea how those first fateful encounters in the depths of space would shape life in the Colonies. For we forgot that those same ancient histories spoke of strange alien races and dark dreary worlds where slimy brutal beings skulked in muck. Perhaps it was human folly that we never imagined such detestable creatures might one day achieve the same lofty heights, as did our own once primitive ancestors. Luckily we were not entirely unprepared for danger, or else Cylon treachery would have ended the colonies long ago.

# # # # #

ACT IV - ESCAPE

The first thing Tychon and Egg noticed about the Delos station launch bay was it was a lot more spacious than the launch bays aboard their cramped training carriers. Then this was a civilian station. The Warrior presence was tolerated, though from the way some techs reacted to their presence they wondered how much longer that would last. It was hard for Egg to align the plant vapor dreams of those with their heads in the clouds of Armistice celebrations from the reality of the war he'd been training for the past few yahrens. Looking over their assigned craft, the feel the old Starhound's pitted surface despite being many times re-painted, Egg felt like the modern scanner installed in the archaic cockpit control panel. Out of place.

'Was that what Warriors would be after the Armistice, archaic relics?' He wondered.

"They look a lot older than the Starhound's we flew back on Gemoni. No worse for wear though. "

"What were you expecting, Egg, shiny new Vipers?"

"Be nice. Still I thought they'd have something better than old MK II's."

"Actually I think they're MK IIb's, see the aerofoil?"

"Hey, you're right. They're much bigger."

"Perfect for aerial acrobatics, and that's what we're. . "

Tychon was interrupted by the sudden unexpected sound of blaring Klaxon.

"What the feldercarb?"

"My sentiments exactly, Egg. It can't be time to launch for our aerial display yet, can it?" Tychon looked around, "We're virtually the only pilots here!"

Egg turned to a crew chief he sees talking on an com, "Chief what's. ."

"Frak!" the chief faced the warriors with eyes wide in startled disbelief.

"You've got to clear the tubes. Get those birds out. No time to switch out the payloads now. Just head for the planet!" The latter was said over the chief's shoulder as he broke into a run toward the interior of the bay.

"You wearing your flight suit, Egg?"

"Always. But wha-"

"Attention. Attention. This is not a drill. All Colonial personnel report to duty stations. I repeat, this is not a drill, ALL Colonial. . "

Grabbing Egg by the lapels, "Whatever's going on I'd feel a lot safer planet side. This isn't exactly a colonial base, you know."

"I read you." Egg replied turning to run toward the nearest Starhound, "Let's go!"

* * *

Niobe's hand went unconsciously to her sidearm the moment the klaxon sounded. While all the guests merely looked around in confusion she immediately began to scan the entrances, making eye contact with other warriors doing the same. Like wayward asteroids circling a distant star the warriors slowly began to gravitate toward each other, pausing only for a moment when the announcement began, then the bedlam began as warriors began to gently fight against the crowd to make way to where they needed to be. Sadly Niobe noted there were too many who, like herself, had nowhere to go.

"What do you suppose is going on?"

Turning to the now almost familiar voice Niobe was surprised to see Aella, "Don't know."

A second body sidled up beside her. Turning Niobe saw an unfamiliar face wearing a familiar uniform. She took in his insignia and junior rank pins in barely the span of a milicenton.

"Lieutenant, ma'am." The warrior nodded to both women in turn.

"Better try some crowd control, at least until we find out what's going on."

"Might help if there was music."

Niobe turned and nodded slightly, both in agreement to Aella's remark and greeting to another colonial warrior who'd joined her little group.

"Get the band to play something light, nothing too dramatic, and pass the word this leisuron's over."

"Ma'am"

* * *

"Alright, now that we're out here let's see what our scanners can pick up on. ."

"My Com's dead, how about yours, Egg?"

"I've got Caprican ground control chatter."

"And Fleetcom?"

"That's odd. Nothing but static. I know they gutted this thing to put in loaders for pyronics and lazons for the Armistice display but, wait, scanners still work. Engaging perimeter sweep."

A pregnant paused filled the dead of space.

"Tychon I'm picking up something on the scanner at-"

"I see it. Warbook reads them as heavies, Cylon raiders. Twelve, scratch that, fifteen."

"Guess that means the armistice is off."

"Maybe," Tychon said as he began to scan through com channels, "But how in Sagan's name did they get that many raiders this far into colonial space without someone raising a klaxon before now?"

"They're probably just drawing them in, making sure they have their aim dead on."

"Then why aren't the Caprican planetary defenses lighting up with sky pulsar fire? Those ground emplacements are supposed to be able to hit an pirates arse in an airlock all the way out to Delos."

"I wish I knew, Tychon, wish I knew. Not much we can about it now."

"We've got the pyronics." Tychon clenched his teeth.

Pyronics could be dangerous, if misused, but even against Cylon raiders they'd be little better than firing an artillery shell at a Battlestar. Yet. .

"Yeah, but they're incendiaries." Egg reminded him, "No good to us up here."

"Frak." Tychon cursed.

"Yeah," Egg quietly agreed.

"We'll just have to hit atmosphere sooner, then. ."

"Then," Egg finished, "we do what we can. Fleetcom's still dead so they must be jamming us. Yet they didn't seem to bother jamming sensors. What are they playing at?"

"I don't know but they're not jamming the civilian channels either."

"What?"

"Check for yourself. I just picked up Serina's broadcast. Everything looks perfectly fine down there."

"I prefer Lyra myself," Egg mumbled as he scanned through the civilian broadcast bands, "Serina maybe the face of Caprica but Lyra has the bod-

"Got it."

"Told you. Damn strange."

"Egg I think we'd better get dirt side. Either the feldergarb is about to hit the fan, in which case we're going to be little more than target practice, or someone screwed the daggit big time. Either way we're no good to anyone up here."

"Yeah, I'd hate to be the one to go down in history as starting a war by attacking a peace envoy. But if things do get squirrelly," Egg paused to check his ailerons, "these old daggits have better maneuverability in atmosphere."

"Agreed. And all we've got are pyronics."

"Yeah. Great way to fly into a war."

* * *

Talbot Chabrol rushed onto the bridge. Sestina barely spared a glance for the ridiculous Armistice celebration costume he was wearing.

"What's going on!"

"Don't know. The station just went to alert status and, if Brackett's right, cleared her launch tubes. They've also ordered all vessels in dock out."

"That includes us, I'm afraid." Brackett retorted from his station.

Talbot sat at his command console with a disconsolate thump.

"Just five centons, just five more centons and I'd have been on my way and they could play their damn games without involving me."

Sestina noticed the mock disdain in her captain's voice and, not for the first time, wondered why Talbot really left the colonial forces. He seemed to miss the life.

"Fine," Talbot muttered sitting back, "passengers are all off anyway and there's nothing to see from the Star Kobol yet. Take her out nice and slow and, Sestina, make a note in the ship's log that this is an official colonial order. If they expect us to pay for the extra fuel load they're two cards shy of a full pyramid. Matter of fact, Brackett, did we have time to log the problem with our port thrusters?"

"I believe so but what's that-"

"Good! We'll bill them for that, too."

"But, sir, it's just a matter of routine-"

"Note it in the log!"

Brackett knew better than to press the matter when his captain used that tone of voice so he simply replied, "Noted."

* * *

There wasn't much Tychon and Egg could do, they knew that, yet they had to try. It was Egg's idea to set off his pyronics in a tangled mass as near Caprica city's busiest flight corridor as they dared. He'd hoped someone dirt side would take notice, not that Caprica was a bastion of military hardware these days. That was something he knew the Capricans prided themselves on. Perhaps that was why the Armistice celebrations were centered there. But surely that big of an explosion wouldn't go unnoticed. Surely someone would raise a klaxon, if only to mobilize the colonial police. He monitored the one clear broadcast, but Serina didn't even blink when she commented on "some kind of explosion" being spotted.

And still no sign of the much lauded Caprican planetary defenses. Neither warrior understood their silence, as those platforms were supposed to be automated. Were the Cylons using some new form of electronic countermeasures that spoofed Colonial IFF? There was just no way to know, at least not from the seat of a Starhound. To add insult to injury, the Cylons didn't seem to take notice of them. Even when Tychon set off a stream of pyronics in the path of a pair of raiders they seemed to shrug off the impotent blows like a mangy daggit shaking off water. Then, in a flash, Egg understood why.

"Tychon, I'm reading multiple flights of craft coming in from high orbit!"

"What?" Tychon had been using his lazons to play tag with one of the heavies and it took a centon for what Egg was saying to register.

But that was a centon neither he nor Egg had for that wave of ships were coming in at a combat dive, and they were playing for keeps.

The first thought that sprang to both warriors mind's was: It was impossible. No one could get that many hostile craft this far into Colonial space without setting off the perimeter klaxon. Yet, somehow, the Cylons had managed to do just that.

"I'm losing scanner resolution. Egg, what're you reading now?"

Egg moved to adjust his screen as he cursed under his breath.

"Lost it. That kind of blanket jamming can't be local. That requires a lot of power."

"Baseships?"

The instant Tychon's whisper mic relayed that word Egg felt a cold knot twist in his stomach. Much as he hated to admit it that was really the only possible answer. Smaller vessels would have been detected, not matter how good their stealth, and only a Baseship had the kind of power output needed for that sort of mass masking field generation.

'But how?' he'd wanted to say.

Instead he found himself caught up in a blur of adrenaline fueled confusion. It was true Starhounds had better maneuverability in atmosphere, even against some Viper models, but none of that mattered when assault craft were screeching out of the clouds like comets hurled from the angry fist of a raging demon. With that much g-force behind them it was all a pilot could do to stay out of their way.

'Just like the Cylons to attack from behind cloud cover,' a distant part of his mind scoffed. It was the last conscious thought he would remember of that event for many yahren after. That and hearing Tychon's voice over the com as he reported aileron failure. Egg tried to reestablish contact, find out where Tychon was, but there were now civilian small craft fleeing in every direction.

Not many made it far.

Egg didn't see what happened to Tychon. He was too busy trying to stay alive, which meant doing the one thing that went against every fiber in a colonial warriors being; run from a fight. But what else could he do?

* * *

Talbot Chabrol sat with a white knuckled death grip. He was watching events unfold in real time on the bridge monitors, yet some small portion of his mind refused to believe what he was seeing. Then something snapped.

'How could this be happening,' he thought as he checked scanner readouts with a marines strategically trained eye.

Talbot had to do something. But what could he do? He was just a marine turned liner captain. There was-

"Bring our defensive lasers online now!" he barked.

It wasn't much. In fact the Phoenix wasn't even supposed to have any weaponry, defensive or otherwise, but he'd learned the hard way while running cargo that there was only one way to deal with pirates, especially with the Colonial Forces so far away, and that was to be armed. Only problem was these weren't ramshackle pirate craft.

"What the feldercarb," Sestina cursed as she turned a questioning eye to Talbot.

Brackett had not been happy when his captain approached him about making the off-spec modifications. He'd had many questions, few of which had been answered, but then he also knew his captain had been a cargo hauler. Few ran the routes Talbot took, and with good reason, but the Phoenix wasn't going to be traveling those routes. Brackett said as much. Not that his arguments seemed to have any affect. Now, as he typed the code into his console to activate the defensive grid the liner wasn't supposed to have Brackett found himself smiling predatorily at his captain's astute foresight.

"Sorry," he shrugged at Sestina inquiring glare like a child caught with his hand in the treat bar jar, "meant to tell you about those, uhm, modifications. But with the Armistice and-"

"As first officer of this tub I should have known about this, sir."

Talbot loved Sestina like a daughter but he also knew what her temper was like. Having known her since she was a youngster Talbot didn't want it directed at him. The woman still wasn't speaking with her own father, one of his boyhood friends, so he did the only thing any colonial marine in his position would have done. He feigned innocence.

"How's everything look, Brackett?"

"Green across the board."

"That's good. Of course the system hasn't been tested yet. Meant to get to that, but with the Armistice, didn't seem that important so-"

"Not important? You mean to tell me we not only have weapons, which we aren't supposed to have, but they haven't even been tested?"

Talbot realized his plan wasn't quite working the way he intended as he watched Sestina angrily take over the board from Brackett. If he lived through this he'd have to step lightly around his first officer, at least until he could find some way to get back into her good graces. Then again if they lived through this maybe that'd be enough for her to forget and forgive him.

* * *

By the time the last of the Cylon assault fighters cleared his screen Egg was somewhere over the largest of Caprica's oceans. His fuel gauge was also dangerously close to the redline. He also realized that the entire engagement, if you could call it that, had barely lasted more than a few centons. The few cylon fighters that came after him didn't seem interested in pursuit so much as chasing him away. He'd barely had time to ponder why when warning indicators on his flight console began to wink their baleful glow just as a blinding flash of light lit up the distant horizon.

"That was near Caprica City," Egg announced unnecessarily.

Egg's scanners detected several similar explosions to the far north and west. Each one, he realized, seemed to be in the area of Caprica's major space ports. And each one gave the same trace readings on his hazard board: radiation. Yet he detected no tell tale columns of smoke. No mushroom clouds. That was why the Cylons didn't waste time pursuing one lone obsolete unarmed fighter, or probably many of the other small craft they encountered in their initial furious dive. They knew most civilian craft would be knocked out by those cloud level EMP bursts; the slimy bastards.

Luckily his Starhound was shielded. But that fortunate realization didn't change the fact Egg had to set this bird down, and soon. But where?

# # # # #

(To be continued in Galactica Saga: Phoenix Rising, Part 2)

Copyright © C. Demetrius Morgan

[DVD Spotlight] Hercules Collection

The Hercules Collection box set is currently on sale at Amazon for $10.49, a real bargain considering these are a slimline re-issue bundle of previously released titles that can still be found on Amazon for between $9.98 to $17.99 individually. This set contains the following:

Hercules/Mole Men Against the Son of Hercules

Hercules is in wide screen and looks fairly decent. .

However Mole Men is FS and a total eyesore. In fact the video quality is no better than the version found on the Warriors 50 movie pack, which makes you wonder where that version was sourced. Hmm.

###

Hercules and the Captive Women/Hercules, Prisoner of Evil

This is the best I've ever seen Hercules and the Captive Women look, and I used to have a VHS prerecord that was better than any of the PD DVD releases. Color is vibrant, the video is clear, it's widescreen, and has a touch of sci-fantasy that makes this a must see. .

Sadly Hercules Prisoner of Evil is full screen and so dark you can't see what's going on half the time. .

###

Hercules The Avenger / Hercules And The Black Pirate

Hercules the Avenger is a madcap pastiche utilizing stock footage from HERCULES IN THE HAUNTED WORLD and HERCULES AND THE CAPTIVE WOMEN to create an exegi monumentum aere perennius of exploitation hackery. .

The feature on the flip side is not really a Hercules movie at all. Rather it's a renamed swashbuckler. Alas it's FS and way too dark. Shame, it looked interesting, or would if you could actually see anything. .

###

Hercules and the Princess of Troy/Atlas in the Land of the Cyclops

For those paying attention there's three titles on this DVD, so technically that's 9 features in this set. I say technically because Hercules and the Princess of Troy was a pilot for a TV series. It runs only 47 minutes but is an entertaining diversion. Sadly this is also the worst DVD in the set. While a entertaining diversion the main feature, Hercules and the Princess of Troy, for all that it's fuzzy and the color a bit faded, has the best looking video of all the features on this disc. .

Giants of Rome is FS, too dark, and barely watchable. .

Atas in the Land of the Cyclops is even worse. .

Alas it's unlikely any other labels will be releasing better quality versions of these movies to R1. Not impossible, but as there have been high quality remastered editions of some of these released in Germany (R2) for a few years now and no one seems to be interested in licensing those prints this is, sadly, as good as it gets. So if you don't already have these titles on DVD you might consider getting this box set while it's on sale.

#End of Line.

[TGIF] Spotlight On: Reviews

Every reviewer has their own approach. Some like to break a movie down, scene by scene, while others offer bare bones op-ed pieces that barely tell you anything and then there's the reviews that read more like ad copy. As those who've read the reviews here at Cosmic Cinema and at Mise-en-scene Crypt know my style is to try to present facts and a overview of the movie without giving too much away, when possible. But have you ever wondered what a reviewer looks for in a review?

To answer that question, and find out if the reviewers read reviews that reflect their own reviewing style, I'd like to start with a recent review I read A Spaghetti-Flavored Road Warrior —- “2019 : After The Fall Of New York” (word of warning that review may contain spoilers) from the Trash Film Guru blog. Here's a movie I've been intending to review but, for whatever reason, never got around to it. Sure I've started a review a few times but I've always felt my review style couldn't do this sort of movie justice. I mean where to begin? Well, if you're the Trash Film Guru you start with a simple question:

"Anybody else besides me miss the days when any reasonably successful — and reasonably cheap — movie genre birthed scores of Italian knock-offs? Yes, whether it was westerns, crime flicks, zombie movies, or Hitckcockian-style thrillers, there was always an Italian who figured he could do it quicker, cheaper, and—most importantly—bloodier."

As a matter of fact, yes, yes I do miss the era of quickie knock-offs. And not just those produced by Italians! Roger Corman was the king of knock-offs. When Hollywood released ALIEN Mr. Corman gave us GALAXY OF TERROR. When CONAN hit the big screen Mr. Corman gave us DEATHSTALKER. Of course the Italians were also quick to cash in on the sword-and-sorcery craze with movies like CONQUEST

The following line from Trash Film Guru's above review applies to most films produced during this golden age of knock-offs: "The special effects for this film are so mind-numbingly stupid they’ve got to be seen to be believed."

Amen brother!

However one thing missing from that review are screen caps. If you're like me screen caps make good reviews better and bad reviews tolerable. And you know what blog I book marked because the reviewer makes ample use of screen caps, Movies About Girls (formerly Boobs!). Just check out any of the following recent reviews to see why (warning may be NSFW): Cheerleaders Wild Weekend, Evil Toons, and Cougar Club. The reviews are informative, let you know availability of the movies, and, for those not on dial-up, there's even some trailers. There's even a nice tang of acerbic wit. For instance take this from the opening paragraph of the Cougar Club review:

"First off, I should point out the obvious: if you use the word "cougar" when describing older women who prefer the company of younger men, then please, stop reading. Just get the f#ck out of here. This "cougar" business is so obnoxious that it can really only appeal to college-age power-pukers, so how this film managed to get produced - and with an actual budget, and with actual actors - is seriously beyond me."

It gets worse, dear friends, much worse. I caught this movie on satellite. And, while I can't repeat the summary given for the movie here (lots of naughty curse words that we don't want the kiddies to read) I do mostly agree with it. This is an obnoxiously lame movie that could have been so much better, alas it never quite delivers in the titillation department and, well, read the review.

Of course there's far more than just blogs out there. One of the sites in the links sidebar is Tars Tarkas. A nice site with reviews of the interesting, not so interesting, and totally unexpected. Reviews of things like Star Wreck: In the Pirkinning. You'll just have to click the link on that one. Articles like this will make you wish for a direct downlink into your brain. However when I want to look for informative reviews I have two sites book marked Bad Movies dot org and Eccentric Cinema. Also worth a look, though the host seems to be on a short hiatus, is Million Monkey Theatre.

I've way more links in my bookmarks than that but, well, it's Friday and I figure that if you're still reading you must really be bored. So, to close this out, here's a few more sites that should be interesting (and probably NSFW) that should help you pass the time: Nunsploitation and Encyclopedia of WIP Films. Both sites offer reviews and (some) screen caps.

Enjoy the sites and try to stay out of trouble over the weekend film fans!

#end of line

Galactica Saga: Phoenix Rising - Part 1, Act 3

Galactica Saga

Phoenix Rising - Part 1, Act 3

By C. Demetrius Morgan

From the Aella Chronicle

As adults it falls to us to teach the young. For children are born empty slates, thus they can be forgiven their youthful folly. Alas folly in an adult too often is perceived as stupidity, and stupidity unchecked becomes recklessness. As children of Kobol our ancestors, who crossed that vast void of space to settle the 12 Worlds, acted as children so often do when out of sight of their parents. So it was that, for a time and a season, our ancestors forgot who they had been. Those wondrous technologies of legend were laid down or forgotten, the colonies went their own ways until, over the course of time, all contact was lost.

We may wonder why and how, alas, after a thousand yahrens of unrelenting warfare, the colonies once more had been treading upon that same dangerous path toward isolation. We wanted to be left alone, to live our lives without being bothered, alas it was not to be. Had we but looked to our own history perhaps events would have unfolded differently.

Each of the 12 worlds recorded the return to space slightly differently, for it was not entirely a peaceful affair. We were, and ever have been, a prideful race. If our ancestors were able to do it then, so the logic followed, so too must we. But it wasn't until the colonies put aside their differences and came together, sharing fragments of ancient data, freely sharing our similar yet divergent histories; only then did colonial science and technology truly began to excel and evolve. It was together, as a single Colonial nation, not twelve individual planet-bound 'tribes', that we routed the Cylons when they first dared attack our worlds. Alas, even after a thousand yahrens of shared conflict against a malevolent alien foe, the ancient divisions remained beneath the surface.

# # # # #

ACT III - DELOS

"Alright people," Talbot began, "Soon as we get the green light from Delos control let's make this quick and as painless as possible. We all have Armistice celebrations to attend but fuel needs to be loaded and before we can do that we need to dock and disembark the passengers."

"Sounds like you have plans, captain." Sestina teased.

She knew full well that Talbot had spent more cubits than was in his comfort zone for a special Armistice costume, not that he'd let anyone see it, then again for his roguish affectations Talbot was a great big daggit. Of course there'd been some speculation amongst the crew who the lucky lady was.

"As a matter of fact," Talbot replied, "I do. First, and foremost, is seeing that this ship docks without incident."

Chuckling, "So will you be going to Caprica City or- ?"

"And waste perfectly good cubits on a skybus? Hardly. I will be attending the festivities at Planet Leisuron."

Talbot left out how he'd come to that decision after seeing how much his Armistice costume was going to cost. But if all worked out the way he hope with his paramour, well, then it would be worth every cubit.

"Nice place. Bit swanky for my tastes though." Brackett noted.

"Bet that cost a few cubits," Sestina commented, "hope it's worth it."

"She is," Talbot, momentarily distracted by new data on his board, murmured.

"Looks like we've got green lights all across the board from Delos." Bracket announced.

"She's ready for docking. Waiting your orders, captain."

"Let's take her in then."

Sestina smiled.

* * *

Niobe entered the small Phoenix lounge and did not like what she saw. Tychon and Egg were hefting frosted mugs and, judging by the expressions on their faces, it was probably of something better than the usual grog they got back home. She only hoped it wasn't their first round because they weren't going to enjoy another sip. Sometimes life was an unfair bitch; today that job fell to her.

"I thought I told you two to get to quarters," Niobe said as she took the mug from Egg's hand.

"Ma'am?" Tychon inquired with innocent puppy daggit eyes.

"Don't ma'am me," her eyes cut through Ty's light buzz like lasers through paper, "you know you've both got duties to attend on Delos that require a clear head. This isn't a dog run. No time for playing, boys.

"There'll be plenty of time for," she punctuated her remark by lifting the mug to her nose, "ambrosia later. And I'd suggest you stay away from the socialators."

"Socialators?" Egg's mouth actually dropped open.

"E-T-A to Delos station dock 10 centons," a voice chimed in over the intercom.

"You heard?"

Niobe's stern retort and unflinching glare left no room for misinterpretation.

"Ma'am," the ensigns said together as they turned heel and made haste toward the door.

"Bit harsh, don't you think?"

Niobe turned at the sound of the sweet, yet gratingly intrusive, voice. A lovely young blonde woman stood by the bar, empty glass in hand. Yet despite her charmingly disarming smile and the sparkle of laughter dancing in her piercing azure eyes Niobe's warning klaxon was ringing red alert.

* * *

"We have a problem." Sestina announced in her familiar no nonsense tone.

"Oh?" Talbot inquired.

"Looks like the port stabilizer's malfunctioning again."

"Ignore the red light," Brackett injected, "It's a minor problem with the internal sensors. Nothing a bit of station maintenance can't fix."

"I'm not made of cubits, you know." Talbot cautioned.

"Be that as it may, sir," Sestina replied, "I'd feel better if we got it looked at. I don't like seeing red lights on my board."

"Point taken. Might as well mention that when Delos control contacts us. And don't forget to tell them about the Demeter."

Rolling her eyes, "Not that there's much to tell."

"I have a feeling, call it a hunch, that there's more to the Demeter than meets the eye."

"I don't know," Brackett countered, "she didn't look like much, Cap'n, but according to the sensors she really was as beat up as she appeared."

"So does half the outlaw traffic out there. Looks can be deceiving, and sensors fooled."

"If anyone knows about being deceiving," Sestina muttered.

"What was that, first officer?"

"Nothing, sir, nothing."

'Youth today,' Talbot thought as he shook his head in mock disdain.

* * *

The first thing visitors to Delos noticed was choreographed chaos. It was a dance between checking baggage through station security, keeping out of the way of embarking and disembarking visitors, logging in, and dodging yet more people to find which terminal was the right egress to the level assigned each visitor; or at least to where it was they wanted to go. To Creusa, as steward aboard the Phoenix, he was all too happy to get the passengers into that stream of chaos as quickly as possible.

"Safe Journey and Happy Armistice," Creusa said with a formal bow as the group of Socialators approached to disembark.

"Thank you," the tall blonde said with a polite, if less formal, curtsey.

"It's been a pleasure," Creusa replied.

"Not quite, but then there's always the return trip."

Creusa actually found himself blushing at that mild jovial retort. There was something about the tall blonde. She exuding a charm and charisma that went beyond the usual practiced elegance most Socialators affected.

"Behave yourself," Calybe chided.

"Always," Cassiopeia winked conspiratorially at Creusa.

Creusa's eyes lingered on the blonde after she left just the barest of moments longer than decorum allowed and, not for the first time this trip, he entertained thoughts about how things might have been if he were but a few yahrens younger. It was a nice flight of fantasy, one he'd like to contemplate in depth, but he had other passengers to attend to.

* * *

Delos wasn't just a space station in geo synchronous orbit above Caprica. It was the space station. It hung in space amidst smaller fueling and warehousing platforms like a majestic leviathan around which starships glided like minnows. Its eateries were renowned throughout the colonies for, it was said, there was not a colonial dish, no matter how exotic or obscure, that could not be had there. Delos was a hub of activity with separate and distinct levels operated and maintained by delegations and personnel from each of the 12 Worlds.

The first thing Egg noticed about Delos was the smell. That there was one wasn't unusual. Most space stations, and vessels, had a scent of sterility covered up by a slight charcoal-like smell caused by the apparatus used to filter out body odor and other less than hygienic fragrances. Not Delos. The first breath of Delos air through his nostrils smelled vaguely of a damp spring meadow with a hint of something floral.

"Smell that!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Tychon asked.

"The air," Egg punctuated his remark by taking a deep audible breath.

"Probably just some scent a pompous Siress had her attendants spray."

Egg turned to glare at Tychon, but found him already busy leering at a group of young female greeters standing near a Scorpia Cooler dispenser. How anyone could stomach that bottled swill was beyond him. Flavored sweet water was all it really was and-

"You both know where you need to be," Niobe framed her question as a statement of fact.

"Yes, cousin." Egg blushed at the slip of the tongue.

Smiling, "Big place. Lot's to see. You sure you two boys will be alright?"

Egg visibly blanched at the jibe but Tychon just turned, his most endearing smile plastered on his youthfully smug face, and nodded affirmative.

"Of course, ma'am."

"Egg?"

"Co- I mean, yes, Ma'am!"

"And no dawdling for ambrosia or scorpia coolers this time," she yelled after the departing pair but she doubted they heard her.

* * *

Talbot watched the fuel readouts nervously as the Phoenix eased out of the main docking area. There was a lot of civilian traffic waiting to dock; mostly skybuses, and he didn't trust the maneuvering thrusters or piloting skills of the operators of those smaller craft.

"Let's try not to burn up anymore of our fuel getting to the fueling port than we need to," Talbot admonished to no one in particular.

Sestina bit her tongue from pointing out, as she had on many other occasions, that worrying about wasting fuel while maneuvering in space dock made about as much sense as worrying about a leaky airlock when a ship's been exposed to vacuum.

Instead she said, "Lights are all green. Fuel consumption is nominal."

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

Talbot got up, "Sestina take over. I've got just enough time to get into that fool suit I bought and prep the shuttle."

"You're going to pilot her yourself?" Brackett asked incredulously.

"Any reason I shouldn't? You did say she's-"

"Oh, yes, she's fine. Just a problem with a faulty coil."

"Alright then. The big seat is yours Sestina"

And with that Talbot Chabrol left the bridge.

* * *

Niobe wasted little time logging in and was soon entering the main dance floor of an establishment not quite as swanky as Planet Leisuron yet it was a hive of activity. She entered with a group of handsomely attired colonial warriors in freshly creased new uniforms, none of whom she knew, but what drew most eyes their way was wasn't her company or their smart new uniforms but rather what she was wearing. She wore a dress uniform, which was just as new, yet it was like something out of a HD play from the beginning of the thousand-yahren war. However on her it was elegant simplicity. Her silken dress tunic was tightly formed to display the most flattering aspects of her shape, even where it tapered into a pleated peplum almost-skirt.

Alas her uniform was also, to some eyes, archaic. Many whispered remarks were made, some none too discreetly, about Gemonese intractability about moving forward into the modern age. It was all Niobe could do to kept from biting her tongue off while attempting not to voice the venomous counter remarks she'd like to make.

'Some people,' she thought. This was supposed to be a celebration. Some people just couldn't let outmoded stereotypes go.

"Nice dress uniform, Niobe."

Niobe turned, a biting retort ready to launch from her lips like a Viper into battle.

"It was Niobe, wasn't it?"

"Uhm, yes. ."

Niobe nervously straightened an imaginary crease as she tilted her head to hide a blush.

"You were one of the, uhm, women aboard the Phoenix, right?"

"Yes."

"It's a classic pattern," Niobe found herself suddenly blurting, " Never been officially retired."

"And you wear it well. You look like you could go straight from the dance floor into the cockpit of a Viper."

"Starhound," she corrected absentmindedly.

"Starhound? That like a Viper?"

"Not exactly. It's an older model fighter that used to be in regular service close to a hundred yahrens ago. There probably aren't many left in service with line fleet units but some bases and outposts still use them and, of course, they make great trainers."

Niobe knew she was blathering but she was earnestly embarrassed. Living on Gemoni one can become insulated to trends, especially those concerning fashion, and she did ask for a simple classical dress uniform. It was her right after all, not that most Warriors bothered anymore, what with the cost. But it wasn't merely that she could afford it. The standard dress uniform she was issued never quite fit right.

"Oh? Why's that?"

Niobe looked up with a start, she was so nervous she'd almost forgotten Aella was there.

"Why's, oh, because their basic flight characteristics aren't too dissimilar from that of Viper models currently in active fleet service."

"If they're so similar to Vipers why aren't they still in use?"

"It's complicated. For starters if you saw one they would look similar to a Viper but with the cockpit moved further up the fuselage to make room for a oversized top thruster/engine, larger pulse canons, yet neither of them are as powerful what's mounted on Vipers today."

"Can't you just put new engines and pulsars in them?"

"That's part of the problem. Starhounds only have two wings. They're slightly larger than the wings on a Viper and swept forward with inset ailerons, uhm, stabilizer fins that flip up when the fighter is in planetary flight mode."

"What does that have to do with engines and pulsars?"

Aella smiled warmly. She realized the young warrior was babbling out of nervousness and decided to put her training to use and help her feel more at ease. It seemed the right thing to do.

"It's something about weigh ratios. The engines in a modern viper are proportionally half to a third the size and, thanks to advances in poly composites, weigh a lot less than the same sized engines we made even a hundred yahrens ago. And that doesn't even take into account compatibly issues with the power planets. To get new hardware into those old war daggits would require a total rebuild and. ."

"And there's no point to do that since you've got Vipers."

"Exactly!"

Aella noted that Niobe was smiling just as warmly now and seemed to no longer seem as ill at ease in her own skin as she did a few moments ago.

"Good," Aella said, "Now how about we find some refreshment?"

The few lingering looks that followed the women were for entirely different reasons. And had either woman been aware of the lewd speculation behind some of them a few of the individual may have spent the remainder of the Armistice in a life station pondering quite different matters.

* * *

(To be continued in: Galactica Saga: Phoenix Rising - Part 1, Act 4)

# # # # #

Copyright © C. Demetrius Morgan

Clash of the Titans remake finally getting made?

Looks like there's finally some progress happening with the Clash of the Titans remake that was announced back in 2006. The big news is Liam Neeson has been tapped for the part of Zeus. However what's disconcerting is, according to the articles (written April of this year), "Shooting will begin on the film later this month in Britain and will see Neeson team up with Ralph Fiennes for the first time since 1993 Oscar winner Schindler's list."

Fiennes will apparently be playing the part of Hades. Other actors announced include Mads Mikkelsen (as Draco), Gemma Arterton (as the demi-goddess Io), Alexa Devalos (as Andromeda), and Sam Worthington (as Perseus). In other words it's taken close to three bloody years just to get out of the announced idea slash pre-production stage and into the maybe-possibly-perhaps ready to start shooting stage. This article mentioned that Louis Leterrier (The Incredible Hulk) will direct.

But has it actually gotten to the production stage? This project has been bandied about for quite a few years with many different names attached to it.

One article casually mentions the film is "due out next year", which if true doesn't bode well for the film's quality in my opinion. It is now April. For this movie to get filmed, go through post production, and hit theatres sometime next year would mean this would have to literally be one of those hackneyed rush jobs where principle photography is done in a few weeks (or less) and post-production takes months. If this is the case my vote is just save critics poison pens the ink and trash the project before it further devolves into a straight to SyFy monstrosity.

Too, I am forced to ask, why Neeson as Zeus? I'm not saying Neeson can't play the role. But it seems like the only reason he got cast was name recognition. Has anyone involved with this lame duck production bothered to LOOK at the CENTURIES worth of artifacts in museums? Does Neesom remotely resemble any statue or, say, any idealized painting of Zeus?

Granted you put the right fake beard on Mr. Neeson and he'll look fine, but then you could probably say that of anyone. I suppose that "name power" trumps casting to type. Unless you're talking about statuary from the archaic period, in which case I think there were a few representations of Zues sans beard from that era. Yet Liam, in his prime, was more of an Apollonian youth. As a veteran actor Mr. Neeson, in my opinion, has the gravitas to portray Hades. Similarly Fiennes seems better suited to filling the sandals of Hephaestus. But what do I know. All I was ever able to come up with as a fantasy cast for my version of Clash of the Titans was a flawed, if entertaining, group of character actors. .

Yes, I know, there's no Centauress in Clash. But, c'mon, it's Jolene Blalock! Topless! Now THAT would be worth the price of admission.

#end of line

Galactica Saga: Phoenix Rising - Part 1, Act 2

Galactica Saga

Phoenix Rising - Part 1, Act 2

By C. Demetrius Morgan

From the Aella Chronicle:

The location of the star system from which our ancestors emigrated has long since been lost to the mists of time and the obscuring fog of myth. And what is known of that distant mother world? A single word ran through the legends of the 12 Worlds and that word was: Kobol.

The Lords of Kobol, for lords they were, true masters of the sciences and their world, had spread out amongst the stars seeding many worlds. Yet, being merely human, and possessed of mortal frailties and faults they, too, over the course of time saw themselves grow decadent. Some say they foolishly attempted to harness powers man was not meant to possess. Others say that while the Lords of Kobol were still at the height of their power a discontent spread through them, a wanderlust, and that a great emigration began. Whatever the truth the facts, as best anyone can know them, are that the 12 Colonies were established and settled by the last of the great "tribes" to emigrate from that distant mother world.

Yet what will our descendants say of the colonies? Will they even remember the 12 Worlds? The Cylon tyranny? Perhaps our story will become fragments of myth and legend about a distant time and space, much as has happened with the memory of Kobol.

# # # # #

ACT II - PHOENIX

The Phoenix, having taken aboard a number of passengers, including a Socialator and Colonial Warriors, at least one of which is a Gemonese female, begins it's disembarkation sequence as Sestina, the Phoenix's first officer, sat at her console plotting a course to break orbit and engage cruising speed to Caprica. Nor was the crew of the Phoenix alone in wanting to get out of Gemonese space as quickly as possible.

* * *

"Welcome aboard the Phoenix, lords and ladies," a voice spoke from the intercom, "This is your captain speaking, Talbot Chabrol, we're fueled and ready to go. Refreshments will be available for the next centare. So sit back and enjoy the stars for our next stop is the Inner Planets and peace!"

Niobe listened to the announcement with maudlin concern. Throughout the colonies everyone was hoping for peace. Yet their expectations ran far deeper than that. She'd already had a discomfiting encounter with a small group of passengers on her way to her cabin that eyed her uniform and sidearm with something approaching disdain. Nor was it entirely because of the Armistice. Warriors were ever increasingly viewed as aloof guardians of a antiquated social structure of an bygone age thanks to that pudgy merchant-prince Baltar, whose rise to prominence in the councils of the colonies was almost as meteoric as certain ensigns penchant for getting into-

"Trouble," Niobe muttered as she marched out the door.

Not for the first time since she'd been put in charge of cadet training Niobe wondered if her life wouldn't have been far simpler if she'd become a fire juggler. At least then she'd only have to worry about hot headed young males once every seven years.

* * *

Egg and Tychon barely took notice of the announcement as they hastily dumped their baggage in their compartments and made a bee line for the lounge, where they hoped to find more than just refreshments.

"Did you see that lovely brunette?"

"Easy, Ty, we're supposed to keep out of trouble, remember?"

"Oh, she's the kind of trouble I wouldn't mind getting into."

"Don't you ever think of anything else?"

"What's there to think about! Everyone's celebrating life, what with the armistice, and we are representing Gemini after all. How can we not share in that sense of jubilation?"

"Because it'll take more than fancy flying and fast talking to keep us out of the brig, this time, that's why you reprobate."

Laughing, "C'mon, I think the lounge is this way."

* * *

On the bridge Talbot smiled, knowing full well how his informal greeting and use of his full name would rattle some. Then he'd never much cared for the stodgy caste formalities. It wasn't his fault certain colonies developed cultures in which the use of any but proper familial names was considered impolitic. Besides he'd had enough of formalities when in colonial service.

"Well this ought to be an interesting cruise, too bad it's going to be a short one"

"If you say so captain."

"Where is your sense of adventure Sestina? Your spirit of. ."

"My desire to see men act like borays?"

"Why whatever do you mean!"

"Captain, I know as well as you who we have aboard. And while under different circumstance it might be amusing, entertaining even, to see what sort of mischief our mix of passengers gets up to right now all I care about is getting to Caprica and enjoying an extended leisuron of armistice celebrations."

"Fair point. Well then what are you waiting for Ms. Navigator? Plot a course and get us out of here!"

"Course set and getting us out of here, aye!"

"You know it didn't always used to be this way."

Sestina rolled her eyes. She hated it when Chabrol got into one of his waxing nostalgic moods.

"Did you ever hear about Dzihuth?"

"Odd name. Was he one of the colonial warriors you worked with when you were a marine?"

Laughing, "Goodness me, no. I'm old but not quite that old. Besides Dzihuth wasn’t a person, it was a ship. One of the last deep star exploration vessels. A great, great, great uncle or something of mine many times removed was attached to the project, I forget how. All this recent talk about an armistice got me to remembering about that bit of my illustrious family history."

"Oh," Sestina replied noncommittally, "so is that what you're hoping to do once the war is over. Pick up where your great, great many times removed ancestor left off?"

"That's not what I meant at all. You see the Dzihuth was launched, well, I forget when exactly but it was during a period of decreased tension early on during the thousand yahren war. We still didn't know much about the Cylons back then, thought we could peacefully coexist. But the lesson the Colonies learned seems to have been lost and forgotten, like the Dzihuth.

"Did you know we had just begun opening new frontiers and were establishing outposts before the outbreak of the thousand yahren war? Most colonials have become so insulated they don't see anything beyond the sky above their heads. They forget that, once, we were spreading out into other star systems when, wham, the Cylons came at us like rogue asteroids."

"Sorry to interrupt sir," Sestina said as she double checked the readings on her console, "We're well on our way now. ETA to Delos and Caprica 3 centare 28 centons, taking the quickest route possible at full cruise. There's a lot of traffic out there today."

"Still sounds like we should make our schedule."

"Depends on the traffic. I've plotted almost a straight line course but we'll need to keep a constant eye on the vectors of some of the smaller ships out there."

"Agreed."

* * *

Meanwhile, in the observation deck lounge, Cassiopeia, a statuesque woman nearly as tall as most warriors, was wearing a smile of childlike glee as she stood, arms outstretched, and spun in a circle, "See how the color shifts subtly in the weave?"

"It's lovely," Aella commented.

"Orion silk, isn't it?" Calybe observed with a twinkle in her eye.

Aella's eyes widened, "Must have cost a small fortune."

Cassiopeia turned to Aella, "Now, now young lady what did you learn about discussing affluence. Remember your protocol lessons and mind your etiquette."

Blushing, "Sorry Cassiopeia, it was an importunate remark."

"Yes it was," she replied with mock sternness then smiled, "but you're right this marvelously flimsy dress is probably worth my weight in cubits!"

And it was flimsy, for Orion silk was sheer as gossamer, yet when fashioned by a master tailor it was a tantalizing sight to behold for it hid as much as it potentially revealed.

"So what's the occasion?" Calybe probed.

* * *

"See, I told you this was the way to the lounge."

"So you did. Wow, would you look at that!" Egg said in a hushed whisper pointing to the twirling woman across the room.

"She's a beauty, but blondes aren't-"

"No, not her, well I do mean her, but rather what's she's wearing."

Blinking in confusion, "It is nice but I'm afraid you've lost me."

"I swear that's the same dress they had at the dress maker's Niobe got her new uniform at. I teased her about getting something like that for herself, she elbowed me so hard I thought for sure she'd broken a rib."

Whistling, "Means cubits. Your sister never was one to skimp on clothiers Which reminds me, you still own me from-."

"They've noticed us, quick, let's move over to the bar before they get the wrong idea."

"And what's wrong with that?" Tychon replied with a leering smile.

* * *

A warning chime from the navigation station drew Sestina's attention away from the screen where she'd been monitoring Lyra's Armistice broadcast.

"Captain, looks like one of those craft you wanted us to keep an eye out for is almost directly in our path."

Talbot quirked an eyebrow, "We're barely 47 centons out, it's probably just a sky-bus full of people celebrating. Better warn them they've wandered off the regular route before they get lost out here."

"It's too big to be a sky-bus. Not getting a clear transponder signal and the guidebook is having trouble identifying the vessel."

"Give me a visual."

"Coming up, now-"

"Frak. That thing looks ancient. What's the guidebook's best tentative ID?"

"That's the interesting part. The guidebook gives a 20% chance it's an 5^th millennium Orion freighter, a 20% change it's a old Colonial livestock transport, and a 10% chance it's a converted Cylon tanker."

"Not a lot of help there," Talbot replied as he glanced intently at the visual on screen.

"Well it's not a tanker, the engine configuration is all wrong, and that ship was built by someone with a sense of aesthetics, which rules out the Cylons. Almost looks Delphian."

"Delphian?" Sestina replied incredulously.

"There's a symmetry to her that looks like something from-"

A second chime from the navigational console drew their attention.

"About time," Sestina injected testily, "Captain we have an clear transponder signal, says she's the Demeter."

* * *

(To be continued in: Galactica Saga: Phoenix Rising - Part 1, Act 3)

# # # # #

Copyright © C. Demetrius Morgan

Will Blake's 7 ever get rebooted?

It's been nearly a year since I posted a snippet about an announced Blake's 7 remake/ redo/ reboot series. What's happened in that time? Apparently not much. Curious I did a bit of Googling and turned up a fascinating article The many proposed returns of Blake's 7 at Den of Geek. What I did not know when I posted that original snippet, but the aforementioned article has made clear, is efforts to bring Blake's 7 back to the small and/or big screen have a history seemingly more convoluted than the myriad attempts to get a Battlestar Galactica continuation made.

The article summarized how it was circa April 2008 that Sky (a UK broadcast station I believe) announced they'd green lit two scripts "for a potential event series" and recounts how a number of production companies were established as early as 2003. Viz: "[the production companies] first took form in July 2003 when they announced that they had acquired the rights to the series from a producer [who] had bought the rights from the estate of Terry Nation back in April 2000 with the intention of filming a TV movie set some 20 years after the original series."

And that "they announced that they were planning a TV miniseries <...> the series would be entitled Blake's 7: A Rebellion Reborn, it <...> would be set 25 years on from the events of the last episode <...> the series would appear by the Spring of 2005. However, in December 2003" it all fell apart.

If you're interested in Blake's 7 that article is a must read. It's really the only bit of news I've seen about the announced Blake's 7 remake/redo/whatever since last year. And while it's really just pointing out nothing official has been said and is asking what's going on it provides a fair amount of background information about the series. Kudos to the author.

For the really curious there's apparently an official site for the reboot/remake effort. While the site doesn't appear to have been updated in awhile it's chock full of info. Check it out here: http://www.blakes7.com/

#end of line

Galactica Saga: Phoenix Rising - Part 1, Act 1

Galactica Saga

Phoenix Rising - Part 1, Act 1

By C. Demetrius Morgan

SETTING

Galactic Saga is set in the Battlestar Galactica universe and draws it's inspiration from, and attempts to meld it's continuity with, the story as outlined in the 1978 novel Battlestar Galactica, the original series, specifically the pilot Saga of A Star World. While much of what is presented herein is original material built upon an extrapolation and expansion of events hinted at in the aforementioned sources and some characters from the novel/series do make an appearance this is entirely an original work with new characters, situations, and story arc. However nothing that occurs herein breaks the established canon, though it may bend it a bit in places.

* * *

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Aella: A young Socialator well-versed in colonial history; especially it's myths and legends.

Brackett: Engineering officer of the Phoenix, male.

Egg: Colonial Warrior, male; Ensign. Cousin of Niobe.

Calybe: Socialator Attendant.

Cassiopeia: Socialator Attendant.

Creusa: Phoenix steward.

Niobe: Colonial Warrior, female; Lieutenant.

Sestina: First officer of the Phoenix, female.

Talbot Chabrol: Roguish captain of the Phoenix, male.

Tychon: Colonial Warrior, male; Ensign.

###

PROLOGUE - CIMTAR

There was jubilation throughout the fleet now that they had reached Cimtar without incident. But not all fleet commanders were greeting this moment with jubilation. For Adama, elected to the Quorom of Twelve as representative of Caprica, Commander of the Battlestar Galactica, knew all too well that Galactica's sister ship, Pacifica, would never be returning home. Her battered hulk was being salvaged, discreetly, in the naval yards of Orion. Her loss had been a devastating blow following so closely on the heels of the disaster at Molecay. Adama could still remember the after action reports from survivors of the Battle of Molecay yet he could scarcely believe the Battlestar Pegasus and the 5^th fleet were lost. How had it happened? There were probe craft reports of tantalizing signals, sensor ghosts, but not even Cain would be this long overdue.

'Perhaps if the 5^th fleet had not been wiped out,'

Adama stepped on that thought.

Adama's trained warrior's mind sensed something was off about the timing of this Armistice conference. Yet even with the public story of Pacifica's destruction and the ever increasingly difficult to squelch rumors about Cain, the near legendary Commander of the Pegasus, circulating throughout the colonies there was no denying the sense of hope and palpable need to believe. A thousand yahren was a long time for any species to be at war. Adama knew the colonies had become insular, many looking no further than the skies above their heads, but that was a social problem for others to deal with, thank the Lords of Kobol, besides he had more pressing matters to worry about.

"How does the uniform look?"

It was a ridiculous question. Then that was precisely how Adama felt wearing his full formal dress uniform.

"It looks fine, Adama."

Adama turned to look at colonel Tigh, the man who was more than just his second in command, this was a friend, a drinking buddy, someone whom he trusted to have his back when the fecal matter hit the turbine intakes. But then he'd said much the same about President Adar, once upon a time.

"Doesn't feel fine," Adama replied as he unconsciously touched the seal of the Lords of Kobol that hung around his neck.

"That's because you can't relax. I've told you time and time again. ."

Adama held up a hand, "Point taken, old friend."

A tone beeped from the desk nearby.

"Looks like you better get going. Don't want to keep the president waiting."

"No," Adama replied with a curious expression on his face, "that would never do. Would you com Athene for me and let her know I'm on my way?"

"Of course."

And with that Adama was out the door and on his way to meet with the other members of the Quorum for a pre-armistice dinner. Life, he reflected, was much simpler when he was just plain old Captain Adama. No worries about politics. No need to have special dress uniforms for such occasions as this preposterous dinner he must attend.

'But,' he reflected wryly,'soon this will be over and I can get back to Ila.'

# # # # #

From the Aella Chronicle:

(Being a Socialator's Commentary on the Rise and Fall of the 12 Worlds.)

The Twelve Worlds' (of Man), or the Colonies as their inhabitants less formally referred to them- even though they had been settled by humankind for millennia- were approaching their seventh millennium of existence. Yet it was not entirely a joyous occasion for the colonies had been at war with an alien menace, the Cylons, for over a thousand yahren. Yet a bright day beckoned. Through a merchant-trader named Baltar word came that the Cylons were seeking an Armistice. It was hoped that this would lead in time to a fuller peace between our two species.

So a convoy of vessels was assembled to meet with mankind's ancient enemy. Because this was a mission of peace and so many people throughout the 12 worlds had high hopes the armistice would ring in a new era the Star Kobol, a vessel that served with distinction and honor, one of the first Battlestar's ever constructed, was re-commissioned from mothballs and designated the official council ship of the Quorum where the armistice treaty would be signed. The Star Kobol had been there at the beginning of the war and she was to be there at the end of this terrible cycle of violence. We colonials were taken with such gestures, alas it was a gesture lost upon the impenetrable alien mind of Cylons.

Yet we would not have been who we are had we not tried. Alas it was a fool's hope, though we did not know it at the time. Had we known the Star Kobol might not have been shepherded by our five most modern Battlestars and their escorts. They say pride precedes the greatest falls, and perhaps it was our smugness and conceit in our own lofty power that doomed us. For the fleet assembled was designed to convey strength. Battlestars are imposing vessels with an array of deadly armament that only the most brazen of outlaw traffic would dare approach. Alas we forgot we were not dealing with simple smugglers or pirates, these were Cylons.

* * *

ACT I - GEMONI

Sunfall across Gemoni is a beautiful sight. The wave of light washes across the dark arc of the planet like a brilliant multi-colored curtain parting the darkness. So very similar, yet unlike, sunfall across Caprica. There's no cluster of high orbitals, no clutter of ships in parking orbits, it's a serene likeness of tranquility. Of course that serenity might have been shattered if the Gemonese realized that the transport Phoenix, now slowing to dock with the lone Colonial orbital port marring that otherwise picturesque view, was carrying a delegation of Socialators.

Talbot Chabrol took all this in with his usual quirky sense of the absurd. Then when he retired from the colonial marines, not by his choice but due to wounds received, he never in a million yahrens would have pictured himself as the captain of a cargo hauler, much less a luxury liner. Even a small luxury liner such as the Phoenix. Yet he'd been both. And he'd been in this job long enough to know that the young woman lost in thought by the portside view port was trouble. Not because of who she was, the Lords knew he would never hold that against anyone with such a cute ass. No Chabrol was worried she was too young to be fully aware of the intricate social dynamics about to be unleashed when he opened the airlock and the passengers from Gemon boarded. Besides he'd hate to see anything happen to that cute behind of hers.

Had Aella, the young woman at the view port, been aware of Talbot Chabrol's thoughts she may have laughed out loud. Despite being a "profession" sanctified by the elders for well over 4000 yahren Socialators, and their craft, were not universally respected, or even tolerated, throughout the colonies. In fact their very existence had become something of a political and religious point of contention amongst certain Gemenese; especially those of the Otori Sect. And if anyone knew the sorts of problems that might produce it was Aella. True, such fervor was usually fleeting, but with the rites associated with the Worship of the Sunstorm coinciding with the recent resurgence of fundamentalism backlash against Socialators amongst the more xenophobic was sure to be on the rise.

Aella shuddered. Conceptually it shouldn't bother her, she was an orphan after all and knew nothing of her birth world, yet she couldn't help but wonder; what if. What if she were Gemonese? She'd studied them and was both fascinated and appalled by their culture.

'Nevermind that the the ancient functions of certain High Priestess' was not dissimilar from that provided by modern Socialators,' she thought.

Then times change and, if she were to be honest, there was a time that Socialators were little better than the kept courtesans of the ancient legends. Not that anyone would confuse the two now, at least no one who could truly see. But then the first thing every socialator learned was that people often saw what they wanted to see, or expected to see, not always what was really there. The truly astute socialators learned how to discern the difference and play to those expectations, or exploit them, as the situation required.

"Cubit for your thoughts, Aella."

"What, oh, hello Calybe. Nothing."

Calybe exhaled in that way she had when something (or someone) annoyed her.

"Don't give me that. I know that look all too well. You're over thinking something again, aren't you?"

"No, well not really. I mean, even the Gemonese have to admit there's few more learned women in all the colonies, right? Yet that's also a fact used as fuel by the Otori sect to "prove" how unnatural the entire "business" is whenever they. ."

Laughing, "Is that all? You know better than most that's one argument that's never played very well with all Gemonese women, thank the Lords of Kobol."

"True, but it's bad enough that any think that. Doesn't it bother you Calybe?"

"What's to worry? There's room enough in the colonies for people to live their lives however they want, wherever they want, and to expect to be left to do so in privacy."

"But if they only knew how many yahrens we spend learning the histories of all the colonies, not just our birth worlds maybe. ."

'Some of us more than most,' Calybe thought.

"Aella," Calybe made a throwing away motion with her hand, "You worry too much. Try to remember we're on our way to Caprica to attend the most prestigious armistice celebration to be held in all the colonies. This is a joyful time."

"Yes, of course, you're right. I'll try."

Chuckling, "Good girl. Now then. ."

"CALYBE!"

A familiar feminine voice shouted from the direction of the airlock.

"CASSIOPEIA!"

Aella smiled, for if anyone should have been worried about the Gemons it was Cassiopeia, who knew first hand how trying the hectare ahead could be. Yet there she was, in full makeup and wearing the sort of dress that would be conservative in every other colony but most certainly was not on Gemoni. Which perhaps explained the looks on the passengers faces embarking Phoenix just behind her. Even the colonial warriors seemed a bit flustered, then one of them was female, which may explain the exaggerated affronted look the Gemons wore.

* * *

Creusa stood patiently by the hatchway. As steward he was responsible for greeting passengers and directing them to their quarters. Most people, if they thought about stewards at all, assumed they were merely ship's cooks. And while there were some sectares he'd rather have been working as a cook he knew that he was the face of the Phoenix, and that he must extend the hand of hospitality to her guests. No matter how tardy they were.

"Ah lady, sirs," Creusa held his hands out in way of gesturing a need for introductions.

"Ensign Tychon," a young warrior replied without any hint of being remotely aware they'd been holding up the Phoenix's departure.

"Ensign Egg," the shorter of the two men proclaimed proudly, "And this lovely lady is Niobe. That's Lieutenant Niobe," Egg intoned with a casual quirk of his brow as he leaned toward Creusa in a manner that wasn't quite menacing but insinuated that if anyone thought to address her with anything less than formal regard they'd answer to him.

Bowing formally, "Creusa, chief steward of the Phoenix. Sirs, Lieutenant, I must respectfully inform you that sidearms must normally be checked with me for the duration of the voyage. However, given the current situation, and the fact we're scheduled for a least time course for Caprica, the Captain has waived this restriction. So long as you agree to keep your sidearms with you at all times and holstered."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Niobe replied flashing a stern glance in the direction of the ensigns.

"Apologies for our late arrival bu-"

"Ma'am, please, no apologies are necessary." Creusa said with an affronted tone that wasn't as forced as it might have been.

"In that case," the Lieutenant said shooting a quelling glance toward the young warriors, "here's our boarding passes. I believe all is in order."

"Indeed. Shall we proceed to getting you all comfortably situated in your accommodations?"

Niobe turned to pick up her duffle only to see Egg hefting it already.

"All ready, ma'am."

Niobe turned a glaring eye on Egg, "I can hold my own, cousin."

"Never said you couldn't." Egg smiled ingratiatingly as Tychon looked everywhere but at his friend or Niobe.

"But there's holding your own and hefting your own, and you are senior officer and," Egg paused winking at Creusa, "how would it look if you carried your own duffle while in the company of two strapping junior officers such as ourselves."

There were times Niobe wished she wasn't Gemenese. But she knew better than to argue with her tenacious cousin.

"You'll make a fine warrior, someday."

"You really think so?"

Rolling her eyes, "Get to quarters!"

"Ma'am!" the ensigns said simultaneously sketching a salute and immediately withdrew laughing about the Lords knew what.

Turning to Creusa, "Make sure they get to where they are supposed to be, will you?"

"Of course ma'am," Creusa said with a tolerant smile that indicated he'd had to look after such recalcitrant youths many times in his career.

# # # # #

(To be continued in: Galactica Saga: Phoenix Rising - Part 1, Act 2)

Copyright © C. Demetrius Morgan