Tuesday, March 3, 2015

A Little March Tease!

I recently joined the Scifi Romance Group on Facebook (they spell "Sci Fi" differently than I do) and today is a day to advertise our books via blog posts. So here I present a tease of Applesauce and Moonbeams, which isn't Sci Fi Romance but rather Sci Fi with Romantic Elements. Yes, there's a difference. Ah, categorization!

Let's set the stage: Our Hero has been in a battle that ended on the Lunar Express, a shuttle going from Earth to Luna. Unfortunately (actually fortunately, or I'd have no plot), he lost that battle and has collapsed into one of the passenger sleep pods. I'll let Pippin take it from here...

---
How odd. Pippin had expected to wake up brimming with unbounded zest, free from the crushing gravity that had been Earth for the past six weeks. She should be home: back on Luna.

This trip had left the rest of her life hanging and her nerves shattered. They had already been stretched thin as a plastic sheet. During the past six weeks that plastic had been pulled and distorted, finally snapping into shreds by a lack of time and more gravity than a human body was ever meant to bear.

What she needed was a long vacation. What she faced was the most important deadline of her life.

Now at last she could pick up where she’d left and get on with everything. She’d have to do so at a dead run; her schedule was squeezed unbearably tight. Instead, she found she literally couldn’t move. Was some fear of failure immobilizing her? Or worse: artist’s block?

I should have refused to go to Earth, she reminded herself as she put up faint struggle to open her eyes. She thought she’d left Earth behind four years ago. But poor Jonathan. He couldn’t have lasted much longer without Terran help. And of course, poor old Aunt Evie anxiously waited for him at home.

Evie certainly couldn’t have survived the trip, so Pippin had put her dream on hold for six weeks. Forty-two irreplaceable days. She’d accompanied Jonathan throughout his ordeal, and had now brought him back home. She hoped he appreciated her sacrifice. She knew Aunt Evie didn’t.

Her time was her own again, but time now ran oddly. It was dark. Oh yeah, she had her eyes closed, but there didn’t seem to be any light on the other side of her lids. Open, open, open, her mind commanded, but her mistreated body groaned, Five more minutes.

She still felt heavy, though maybe half or a third as bad as the horror Mama Terra had been. Not only heavy but a tad claustrophobic. She squeegeed the sleep-slime in her mouth with her teeth, trying to taste what the problem was as her senses slowly awoke. Ew, got some hair in her mouth. She spat it out.

It was really quiet in here. Funny odor; guess that was the plastic sleep suit they made her wear, with its plumbing and sensors and everything. It really smelled icky. More than ripe; kind of rotten, like when they brought in a big batch of manure from the Luna C waste facility to receive its final rounds of sterilization. That couldn’t be her, could it? Ew, ew. Never!

She must be still in the sleep pod. Cocooned to withstand the hard acceleration that powered the Express, it fed her enough drugs to keep her unaware of the day-and-a-half ride. The faint sounds she made as she squirmed echoed back to her, reminding her of how tiny it was.

People weren’t supposed to wake up in their pods, were they? Had something catastrophic happened? She started throwing off the drug effects at that thought. Was there something wrong with the ship, that the sleepers had been awakened prematurely so they could deal manually with the emergency—or at least say their final prayers?

Meteoroid collision? Crew decompression? Was no one left at the controls?

Maybe some glitch had cut off her nutrients or, God help her, her air, and some keen animal instinct had snapped herself alert so she could jump up and—

Not bloody likely, with this weight pinning her down.

Funny, it didn’t extend to her arms or hands. Her left foot also seemed to be free of it. Still, it was... well, something. An object of some kind, a smushing load, a—

“Wooo-AAAAHHH!” she shrieked. “Dead body! Dead body!”

She scrabbled her free fingers, searching for some kind of help button to alert the staff. There must be a help button. And a staff that was awake. Please, God, a— “HAAAAAALLP!” She ended it in a pure, unadulterated screech guaranteed to penetrate six inches of solid steel if need be.

Suddenly it occurred to her that her screams might use up all available oxygen.

Oxygen or zombie initiation? “YAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! EEEEEEEEE!”

Excited voices penetrated from the other side of the pod. She shrieked as loudly as she could: “Dead! BODIEEE! Lemme out! Lemme OUUUUT!!!”


For the first time in her life, Pippin Applegate fainted.

---
Hope you liked that! You can find out more about this book here, including buy links. (It's $3.99 for e-book.) (And darn it, even though it looked perfect the other week, I see I have to nudge the type on that webpage just a tad once again. It never ends, does it? Siiigh.) And remember, if you sign up for my VERY infrequent newsletter at the top right side of this blog, you will get a FREE e-copy of Touch of Danger, vol. 1 in the "Three Worlds" series!

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

The greatest book you've never read!

Forget those AWFUL, PUTRID Steve Martin movies! They are zero, nothing, nada like the original book!


What book? Cheaper by the Dozen, by Frank B. Gilbreth, Jr., and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey. (Illustrations on the first printing, which I show here, were done by Donald McKay.) (That's right; I stole my parents' copy of the book and kept it for myself!)

The Steve Martin movies showed an inept father of 12 whose lesson to be learned in the first movie (I haven't had the stomach to watch all of the second one) was this: Children are king. Whatever they want, the parent should provide, no matter what the dreams the parent has to give up to achieve that.*

Phooey! Frank Gilbreth would have had a fit!

Frank and Lilian Gilbreth were industrial engineers, the first to do motion studies of various professions. (Look 'em up on Wiki for some fascinating facts.) Their firm operated from 1910 until 1924, when Frank died. After that, Lillian, who was also a psychologist, took over the business. But this book isn't about the business, it's about their family. As the dedication reads:

To DAD
who only reared twelve children
and
To MOTHER
who reared twelve only children

Can a man shave faster by using two razors? Yes, but he loses time
in administering first aid to himself afterward.

Frank, who was crazy about kids, wanted to see if the improvements he'd made in industrial efficiency could work in a familial setting. (He also knew he had health problems and wanted to make sure the family would survive well without him.) So from the birth of his first child, Anne, he began experimenting.

He asserted that baby monkeys could function at advanced levels compared to human babies, and tried to get Anne to, for example, learn to swim while she was still an infant. Oh well, that didn't work, but other things did.

The family grew, gaining 12 kids in 17 years. (Poor Lillie!)** The Gilbreths instituted family councils, sealed bids for household jobs the kids could do in addition to their regular chores, and such things as learning from language records during "unavoidable delay" (using the bathroom).

Gilbreth painted Morse code on the walls and bedroom ceilings of the family's vacation house, and the kids used their silverware at dinner to tap out messages—and receive rewards—during dinner. CAREless CHILDren: dash dot dash dot = C. I'll always remember that.

The children buried coffins of pencils for advertising newsreels, helped develop the touch typing system (aided by sharp taps of a ruler to their heads when they made mistakes), and they lived in fear of a younger sibling skipping a grade to land in their class.

If one got sick, they all did, and set New Jersey health reports suddenly skyrocketing. There's one section that deals with the kids' tonsils coming out. For some time Frank had been wanting to capture multiple identical operations on film so he could teach doctors how to operate quicker. Now all but one of his kids needed tonsillectomies. Perfect! He decided to have the operations done at home while a cameraman filmed everything.

I'll let you discover what happened along the way.

Anne wasn't keen on wearing long underwear, so she
got a job and bought her own clothing.
The Jazz Age arrived just in time for the older kids, three girls, to be in high school and dating. Bobbed hair, nylons, short skirts, stripped-down Model T's, and greasy-haired collegiate sheiks made Frank Gilbreth's blood pressure skyrocket. Still, he and his wife managed to muddle through and even enjoy the process—a little—along the way.

The ending is sad, but the rest of the book is great fun. There's a sequel, Belles on Their Toes, that I read ages ago and recall that it seemed a bit repetitive. It did mention that Mary, the second child, had died at age five of diphtheria. At Lillian's Wiki page, I discovered that there was also a stillborn baby girl in the Dozen (which was always referred to that way, though after Mary died there were only 11). The eleven Gilbreths who survived childhood ALL graduated college (imagine!) and lived long lifetimes, like their mother. You can read more about the family at this website or here.

Because Amazon is offering the book at only $1.99, I bought it just because, and discovered that Ernestine had written an introduction to the book (which maddeningly listed the questions people most often asked her, without giving any answers), and that there are photos at the end of the book showing the family back then and as time went by. The 1923 photo includes them all, and sure enough, all the girls have bobbed hair. There's another picture from the 80s with Frank Jr. and three brothers, but the brothers aren't named, darn it. The 1920 picture of Frank Sr. and Lillian doesn't show Frank as being nearly as large as the book paints him. Don't know if he was having a good year or if the book was just using literary license. (This could have been the point at which he began slimming down on doctor's orders.)


The main point to take in is this: you'll enjoy this book enormously! In addition to being a memorable family comedy, it also shows the transition society made moving into the Twentieth Century and celebrates that rarity of the time: a professional, educated woman. If you haven't seen the 1950 movie with Clifton Webb and Myrna Loy, save it until after you read the book. There was also a 1952 movie, Belles on Their Toes. Audible has an audiobook of Cheaper, and the sample sounds pretty good.
_____

*It also showed that you can dream up a book, write it, get it published, and become a best-selling author within the space of something like 3 months. Riiiiight.
**Make that 13 kids in 17 years, counting the still-birth daughter. Lillie also birthed all those kids at home, except for the last one, Jane, whom she had at a hospital. Lillie came home wondering why she hadn't done that before, because it had been such a pleasant experience.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

No new blog this week...

…Because I'm sick. Currently I'm more interested in the fact that I just picked up two boxes of lotioned Kleenex and a bottle of Dayquil.

The only good thing about all this is that I'm catching up on Maverick and Deep Space Nine—both first seasons. Good stuff! (Though so far Maverick's plots have revolved around a "mistaken identity" theme.)

Stay healthy out there!

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

The apple doesn't fall far...

This morning for some perverse reason I was watching The Roy Rogers Show during breakfast. Well, that and the news and QVC in little blips as I surfed. I noticed that Roy had a male sidekick named Pat, a man with a rubber face who made all kinds of OTT expressions and generally played Barney Fife to Roy's Andy Taylor. Pat was dumb as dirt.

But in this morning's half-hour episode, poor Pat got hit on the head. A lot. I counted at least three times that he was hit so hard he went unconscious. The bad guys on the episode miraculously missed being shot (of course none of the good guys were), even though everyone had unlimited ammunition. Well, except at one point Bad Guy #1 ran out of bullets, Roy jumped him, they had a fist-fight, and the next thing you know, Roy's grabbing BG#1's hand, in which BG is holding that empty gun, and the gun fires into the air.

As Bats-Man (from Mad Magazine) once so wisely noted, "TV writers have no logic!"

But the bad guys also got hit on the head, several times, to the point they were rendered unconscious. I figure that because poor Pat got hit so hard on the head so often was the reason why he was so slow of wit. Keep that in mind…


A couple months ago one of the Legion of Super-Heroes groups on Facebook was talking about Superboy #197, Sept. 1973, the one where the cover has Saturn Girl's gawd-awful bikini miscolored, and where cover artist Nick Cardy used an old reference, which is why cutey Element Lad is wearing a Legion flight belt from the Legion's earliest days.

This was still early, around the seventh or so issue, of the beautiful Dave Cockrum run of the Legion. Each story unveiled new costumes for the Legionnaires. Dave had previewed four of the costumes in The Legion Outpost, the Legion Fan Club's fanzine that I dutifully subscribed to, and I was excited to open up each new issue (if it had a Legion story) to see what other costumes would be showing up. I was mad about costumes! Still am.

(By the time this issue came out I had been notified that Dave was using my suggestion of a new look for Light Lass. He'd already designed one but had forgotten that she and Lightning Lad [for whom Dave had designed one of the all-time spiffiest comic book costumes EVER!!!] were twins. Mine matched the new LLad costume, which was no coincidence as I had dashed off a new design as soon as I'd received the Outpost with the new-look Lighting Lad on the cover, and sent it off to DC. Ayla's new threads premiered in Superboy #202.)

ANYWAYZ, that's not what we're here to talk about. Scripts for both stories in this ish were by Cary Bates. The first story was "Timber Wolf: Dead Hero, Live Executioner!" But we aren't concerned here with ol' Brin Londo, he of the Wolverine 'do.

We are merely concerned with page two. (You should be able to click on these for a larger view.)




Spring is in the air; in fact it is April as Lana Lang and her next-door neighbor, Clark Kent, lounge under an apple tree. Tra la! How could anyone have problems with this?

Well, first it's April. Those are ripe apples overhead. I believe the earliest apples in the continental US ripen in July.

Secondly, Lana (an intelligent and fashionable young woman) is wearing white. And she's sitting on grass. Grass leaves stains; everyone knows that, especially those of the female persuasion because they're usually the ones who have to launder the family clothing. Lana has not spread out a blanket to protect her lovely white outfit from the grass. This story would be taking place in the late Fifties, extremely early Sixties, since Superboy by this time was lagging 15-20 years behind his stories as Superman. Stain-fighting technology now is not the best, but back then…


Lana expresses normal teenaged curiosity, wanting to learn the first practical steps of romance. She'd like to try a kiss with her friend. For some reason Clark is not so inclined. In fact he's sweating bullets about the thought of kissing gorgeous Lana, the only long-lasting opposite-sex-type interest in his boyhood.

Have the Kents been so puritanical in bringing up Clark? Has Red Kryptonite affected his natural desires and/or curiosity? Has he been questioning his sexuality? Man, it's just a kiss. Perhaps he's afraid that one kiss will unleash years of hot teen lust and he'll have Lana on her back in seconds! Well, he does do that, but not in the way you might imagine.

(Though I doubt Clark would do anything counter to the Comics Code he lives by. He's not like the hero in my Three Worlds series, who at intimate moments is too powerful for his own good, and is completely frustrated by his limitations when it comes to human contact. You can get the first book in that series free if you sign up for my newsletter [on top of the right-hand column here].)

In the midst of all this, Clark's alerted by a signal that means that the Legion of Super-Heroes needs his presence immediately.

Immediately, as in: 1000 years from then.

At this point in DC continuity, the Legion existed in the 30th Century. Clark could wait a couple weeks before heading off to the future. There was never any direct connection exhibited, any kind of time warping that showed that the Legion's future was EXACTLY 1000 years to the moment in the future. After all, Supergirl also visited the Legion, and she was from the present day Superman era as opposed to the Superboy era of the past.

So really, Clark has no reason to react quickly. But he does.
He uses his heat vision to prune off two large, ripe apples…
…that KNOCK LANA UNCONSCIOUS!

I'm sorry, but two apples falling on the top of your head are not going to make you black out. Clark had to use his super-breath or something to increase the apples' velocity so as to increase the force when they hit.

And they knocked out Lana. Superboy refers to this as a "nice nap."

I was going to explain this myself, but the website "Explain like I'm five" does it so much better than I could ever do. BiPolah (haw!) says to a questioner who has watched violence in movies, "There's a pretty fine line between knocking [movie characters] out and causing permanent damage, and it's not like they're out for hours so you can stuff them in a cupboard while you go off robbing the place. People that are knocked out from head trauma are usually out for a few seconds, perhaps minutes. Even there could be serious damage or a concussion. If they're out for much longer, you're probably looking at permanent brain damage or death."

mjcapples agrees: "Any time when you experience unconsciousness, it is a life-threatening injury that risks permanent brain damage. The exact ease of causing injury depends on several factors, including the location of the strike, the amount of linear and rotational force, and the duration of the impact. For example, impacts to the side of the head are well documented to cause injury much easier than impacts to the front or back. Also, a linear hit causes different damage than a hit with a rotational aspect, which is linked to breaking the blood vessels that feed your brain.

"As far as a general rule for head injury though, one of the basic formulas for head injury (the Head Injury Criterion), states that a score of 1000 is about a 50% risk of death and a score of 250 being a good indicator for a concussion."

I repeat: It's a "nice nap."
 
Let me get this straight. In order to respond to an emergency that is not an actual emergency either in terms of time travel or in what Clark finds when he arrives in the 30th Century (read the story), Clark injures his supposed close friend to the point where she likely has sustained a concussion (not a minor injury) and might indeed be lying near death while he departs.
 
While Lana never went stoopid after this story (she was never as dumb as Lois Lane was often depicted), one has to wonder how she managed to survive, and survive still with brains intact, unlike Roy Rogers' Pat.
 
We don't see Lana after the main plot has ended. Did she die? Did Superboy replace her with a robot, clone, or parallel-world double? Sure, she showed up in the second story in the book, but she looked decidedly different. (And don't tell me that's just because Bob Brown and Murphy Anderson did the art for that story!)
 
Threatening Mr. Clark Kent's ideas about his own sexuality does not seem to be a safe thing even for Clark's friends to do. Hm.
 
What do you think?



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Enter now by clicking on this link!

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Something old, something new...

You might know that I'm in the process of taking all the paintings that are in my house and storing them off-site. You know, so I have some room to move here. It was getting pretty crowded.

I have about half moved now. The reason it's taking so long is that I'm choosing some to be redone. In addition to me trying to get some new paintings done, PLUS work on novels, PLUS work on yard, PLUS clean/organize the house… Well, it's taking some time. But here's what I've just finished. These two paintings will be hung in the Saratoga Grill in downtown Hillsborough, NC tomorrow.

The original, a style I was trying out because it was something I could do fairly quickly. Fail!
The Old County Courthouse, acrylic, 2009
I decided to try something with this, and unpacked the new batch of alkyd oils (fast-drying!) that I'd bought last November. Here's the result:
The Old Courthouse, 9 AM. Acrylic/oil, 24x18"
I think that's much better!

And here's an entirely new painting. I had thought to do it only in acrylic, but added oils. Didn't do an all-over glaze like I did the one above, but I still think this turned out nicely.
King's Street in Its Glory, acrylic/oil, 18x24"
As I was taking the archival pictures and putting the data into Bento, I noticed that this is the 100th painting I've added to the spreadsheet!

They say that it takes 100 paintings to produce a real style. It's actually been over 100 paintings for me (not all are in my formal records), but I do think I'm starting to feel more comfortable with the process. This year not only will I be getting out more to do plein air painting with my fancy-schmancy new portable easel, but I'll also be just painting more often, and likely in smaller formats. They say ("they" being everyone in the current "Painting a Day" movement) that your style and skills can really take off by doing that.

CONTEST CONTEST CONTEST

Whoops, actually no contest this time (despite the landmark #100 up there), but on Feb. 2nd the big Valentine co-op contest for a $200 Amazon gift card should be starting. They're supposed to send me a link to it, but until then I'll just provide a link to my Facebook Pro Page, where the announcement will appear once I receive it.

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Where in the world...?


Last February I attended one of those "free" vacation weekends, where you are required to spend "just two hours" (more like four or six) listening to a sales pitch for a vacation company. I walked away with a Festiva contract under my arm. But I was told I couldn't use the system until January 1, 2015.

(Looks at calendar.)

Hey! I can use it now! I've paid up my maintenance fees and everything, and I have double points this year because it's my first year of use.

Where should I go?

I'm planning on traveling to Portland, OR via Amtrak this year. Maybe. Just to look around for retirement purposes, you know, and to actually be forced to relax for the two days (interrupted with a day's walkabout) of the rail trip. For some reason, all but one of the vacation companies I've checked into have zero places on the West Coast in their network. The one had a place in San Francisco that took about six years' worth of points to earn one night at.

So I'm talking about elsewhere.


In 2016 I want to go Great Britain via Trafalgar, which has a hand-shake deal with Festiva. (Plus I have a coupon from QVC for Trafalgar.) In 2017 I'm thinking either Greece or the Bahamas (Paradise Island!), and 2018 vice versa.

But what about 2015?

Here's the in-plan destinations. Not sure how big this map will go in this blog, so use the link as needed.


I bought the plan at Atlantic Beach, which seems a really nice place and I'd love to take my paint box down there and spend a week checking out the picturesque neighborhood and tasty restaurants. Plus the resort has three pools, a tennis court (want to come along?), beachfront, etc. etc.

When I was a kid, my parents bought some Florida swampland and we drove from North Dakota (you understand the swampland now) down there to check it out. (They got their money back.) On the way, Mom insisted we stop off at Juliet Gordon Low's birthplace in Savannah, since we kids were Girl Scouts and she was a troop leader. I recall bits of that mansion, but nothing else. I've been told that both Savannah and Charleston are great places to visit.

Then there's the option of Orlando. At some point I want to see Harry Potter Land; heck, I've never been to any part of Universal.

Where would you go? And why?

CONTESTS CONTESTS CONTESTS

Currently on my Facebook Pro Page I have a contest running until Friday evening. Name that store! Winner gets their choice of one of my ebooks.
ALSO: Stay tuned for a chance to win a $200 Amazon Gift Card! Details will arrive on that same page on or about Feb. 2.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

The Three Worlds Saga continues!


On Trial for Her Life... And Her Heart!


The exciting THREE WORLDS superhero romance saga continues!


Lina O'Kelly, psychic and interstellar transporter, is finally reunited with her love, Londo (Valiant) Rand, the galaxy's most powerful parahero. He was forced to leave her on their wedding day, but their reunion is bittersweet. He brings news of a hero's death, and then cannot stop a formal inquiry into the charge of mind control that the Mega-Legion commander has leveled against Lina. She stands to lose her very mind if the judgment goes against her.

Dark secrets revealed


No matter which way the trial goes, they both carry secrets that could tear apart their new relationship. Jae (Neutrino) Rallene, the last of his mysterious kind, holds the key that could seal Lina and Londo's happiness... or keep them separated forever.

Cover illustration by Colleen Doran.
Heat level: Moderate.

Excerpt:


Lina got up to leave. “Here, let me show you,” Londo said, quickly swinging his chair around as she went out the back. He put his arm around her and she eased it away from herself. The door to the cubicle closed behind them. The balcony outside was empty.

“Do I have to break through this again?” he asked sharply.

She looked past his cheek, not at him. “Lon, we need to talk. All these interruptions aren’t helping at all. I am trying to put things on hold until we can find some privacy. Please don’t push things until then.”

“Push things?” He pulled her chin up, but her gaze would not come around to his face. 
“Baby, do you remember a few days ago? A little wedding ceremony? And a couple days before that? ‘I’ll love you forever’? Where are they now?”

“Is this private enough to talk?” At last her eyes met his, but hers were blazing green. “Do you want to have our discussion here? In the open? How many cameras are on us?”

“There are no cameras,” Lon said, and somewhere below them a cubicle door opened. They stood still as Boroh stepped out, moved down the hall and through another door. “So we’ll make it—”

His ring buzzed. “Londo, I see neither of you are in your cubicle. Have you both lost your way?” It was Wiley.

“We’re just trying to have a private conversation. Give us a few minutes.”

“Don’t upset her. I don’t want anything to interfere with these readings. Electrolytes must be perfect.”

Londo frowned and his frown became deeper when he saw Lina striding off in the direction of Wiley’s cubicle. She had to look at the door labels. He trotted to catch up. “Damn it, Lina! I’m trying to get all this straightened out, and you’re running away.”

“Let’s just drop the whole thing until later and be professional about it now, okay? Neutral.”

“Neutral?” Londo took her roughly into his arms. “Is this neutral? Is what we’ve been doing, what we’ve been feeling toward each other, neutral?” He pressed his lips on hers, holding her head so she couldn’t get away.

She didn’t kiss back. Instead, she pummeled his shoulders with her fists.

Lina finally freed herself from his mouth but he still gripped her in his arms. “Do I have to slap you again?” she demanded. “Have you go back there with a big red mark on your face? How will you explain that?”

“I don’t need to explain anything.”

“I think you need to explain a helluva lot!”

“I think that you already knew. You’re the big telepath around here. How is it that you don’t know everything?”

Her mouth worked before she could speak. “And you’re the big parahero with the big reputation. How is it that you can’t tell the truth when it really matters? How is it that you like to hurt others just so you… so you can keep them under your control?”

“Says the woman who can read minds.”

“Is that going to be your excuse from now on? Not telling me anything and then saying that I should have known? Am I supposed to scan you every time you tell me something important? Or are you going to lie to me about the little things as well?”

“Some people would be intrigued by this, Lina. I thought you would be. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Disappointed?” The word hit Lina like a knife, echoing her father’s words: Clumsy, stupid girl! You should be ashamed of yourself! She turned her head from him. Break away; run. “I don’t want to talk about it now,” she told him, blinking hard.

“Hide from it, like you do everything else?” He shook her.

“And you just… assume that you can drop these thunderbolts and I won’t say anything about it, that I won’t question it because you’re team leader. The great and powerful Valiant. No one questions Valiant on anything! Lon, how could you lie to me like that? Have me make a vow when you hadn’t told me the truth?”

“This has nothing to do—”


“This has everything to do with that! Can’t you see? This is the very foundation of what we are, and you’re, and you’re—” She choked. “My god, what have we done?”

Jump into the galactic adventure here!

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