There Are Those Days
By: James Dubeau
There are those days
Where everything seems
To be going your way
But then
Brick by brick
It all comes tumbling down
Leaving me
Nothing
But
Bruised
And Battered
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
Thursday
Thursday
By: James Dubeau
Out and about
Margarita in hand
Music thumps
And bumps
As dancers
Jump and
Grind
New friends
Smile and
Laugh
Good times roll
On this
Half price
Thursday
By: James Dubeau
Out and about
Margarita in hand
Music thumps
And bumps
As dancers
Jump and
Grind
New friends
Smile and
Laugh
Good times roll
On this
Half price
Thursday
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Lagrangian Waltz - Episode 13
Lagrangian Waltz - Episode 13
By: James Dubeau
Start the adventure here
Previous episode here
Next episode here
“Get up,” echoed off metal walls. Jarring pain of a battered body brought reality crashing back to the unconscious smuggler. A booted foot had decided that the best nesting grounds lay in Sin’s ribs. His mind rushed through his body, surveying each limb, finger, and toe for appreciable damage. No sharp pains from broken bones or open wounds seemed to be present.
“Get up,” once again echoed above Sin. The smuggler rolled, cushioning the second kick, and his handcuffed arms wrapped around the boot. With a jerking motion the boot was twisted ninety degrees, sending the attached leg and body crashing to the metal floor.
Sin leapt upon his fallen foe. Fingers squeezed into a fleshy neck. “And stay down Hener,” his voice trailed off. The face that stared up at him was not Hener’s.
The smuggler leapt to his feet, backing from the man on the floor. Laying at his feet was a human dressed in a uniform as black as night. Emblems upon his shoulders declared that he was an Imperial colonel.
The room was surgical white, save for the gray table and two red chairs. Standing in front of the only entrance of the room stood a guard. His dark uniform contrasted the stark white walls, making him almost as imposing as the pistol in his hands. Scents of sweat, blood, and disinfectants wafted through the room, an Imperial interrogation chamber.
Backing away, Sin practically fell into one of the chairs. “You aren’t Hener. Where am I? What is this, hell?”
“No Mr. Sin Naggai, Captain of the space freighter Bolide. This is not hell and I am most certainly not the bounty hunter Hener Hawau. Rest assured though that some do call me the devil. Hener most certainly did,” the colonel spoke as he rose, joining the stunned smuggler at the table. A gleam shown in his eye. “I am Colonel Gerhard Voshage and you are upon my ship, the ISD Valiant Quasar.”
“A nice ship indeed,” Sin’s fingers traced the faint reminders of blood stains upon the tabletop. The presence of an Imperial Intelligence officer can only mean bad things. There would be no easy talk to get out of this one.
“Do not worry. I will not hold your aggression towards me against you. I was merely conducting a test to see if you were truly the man that your file says you are. However it was fortunate that you let go when you did, otherwise I would be having this conversation with a charred cinder.” The guard grunted as the colonel spoke. “You are one dangerous individual, wanted in eight Imperial star systems for various counts. Most recently an offence was leveled against you for evading an Imperial blockade on Calenist seven. A blockade which, if I’m reading this correctly, was designed to catch the Bolide and her stolen cargo before reaching this system.”
“Looks like your jackbooted soldiers need to work on their blockade skills,” Sin said defiantly. “All it took was a heavy foot to hightail it out of that system.”
Colonel Voshage studied his datapad. “Your record also shows a certain willingness to work for the Imperial cause. A fact which led many Imperial pursuers down a path of leniency, to allow your trail grow cold when justice could have been delivered.”
“So then I’m free to go?” Sin held his cuffed hands up to his captor. His eyes were wide in that doe eyed look of newborn kittens.
“Not quite,” the colonel laughed. “Your file portrays you as a blunt object. Major Weston likened you to a hammer ready willing to smash through the plate glass window of societal norms. Your methods are blunt, but results are always produced. However, I see a Sin Naggai that lives between the lines of this report. A man that has a follower of the way as a copilot cannot be as straight forward as these words portray.”
“What are you getting at?” Sin’s eyes grew heavy at the colonel’s droning tones.
“Eight worlds are demanding your apprehension. Six warrants that demand the rest of your short life be lived out from behind bars. Two warrants for your head on a pike. Eight calls of action that can be silenced by one stroke of my pen.”
“What do ya got?” Sin defiantly barked. An Imperial Intelligence colonel giving out unprovoked deals reeked with the stench of death.
“I want Master Solda Kumil. I want him alive. You will bring him to me.” The Imperial colonel’s fist crashed against the table, punctuating his words.
“And you expect me to do this how?” The sarcasm was thick in Sin’s voice.
“The boy will be released to your custody. Use him to lure Master Kumil from his ship to the planet’s surface. That is all that I request of you.”
“Tahnel comes with me,” Sin’s eyes narrowed.
“He is a good first mate to hold onto. None of our techniques could break his spirit or get a word out of him. He will be released as well.”
“Let’s talk turkey,” Sin leaned back in his chair, feet firmly on the tabletop. “I can deliver Kumil, but I need our records wiped clean, a fresh ship, and any Imperial presence removed from this star system.”
“Those are some bold demands for someone that has no stake in regional politics. Governor Beltran has requested that Naurchand be protected by Imperial forces. It was something about requesting freedom from the Consul’s persecution, a stance that I can’t fault him for having. Why do you care if this system is under Imperial protection or not?”
“Over zealous demands gives me a chip to give away in our bargaining,” Sin’s statement was brought home with a knowing wink and nod.
“Glad we got that out of the way early then,” Colonel Voshage shook his head. “Hener’s ship is yours and your records will be cleaned up once you have brought Master Kumil to me.”
“Before.”
“Before?”
“Before.” Sin’s gaze locked with Colonel Voshage. “We both know that this plan suicide mission. The fact that you voiced this plan shows that there is at least an insignificant chance that Master Kumil will be lured to the planet’s surface. Whether or not I survive is inconsequential to you. In fact, if I wind up dead then all the better for Imperial Intelligence. So, if I’m going to die doing your dirty work then I want to die as a free man. Or are you afraid that somehow I’ll escape and put a black mark upon your impeccable record?”
“Airlock him,” Gerhard dismissively waved his hand.
“Before,” Sin growled.
Colonel Voshage sighed and made some notations on his datapad. “Take him to the hanger. By Imperial decree, all charges upon you and your crew from Imperial controlled systems will be dropped by the time you leave this ship.”
The guard led Sin from the interrogation room, his pistol found a home in the smuggler’s kidney. Tahnel was directed out of another room and the pair marched side by side down the corridor. “We going to be thrown from the nearest airlock?” Tahnel flexed, testing the tension in his bindings.
“Believe it or not, but I think we made a deal,” Sin walked in step with his friend.
“Ahhhh, then we’ll live to see tomorrow.” The large green being’s voice boomed with joy.
Sin’s head hung low, “Most likely we will not.”
By: James Dubeau
Start the adventure here
Previous episode here
Next episode here
“Get up,” echoed off metal walls. Jarring pain of a battered body brought reality crashing back to the unconscious smuggler. A booted foot had decided that the best nesting grounds lay in Sin’s ribs. His mind rushed through his body, surveying each limb, finger, and toe for appreciable damage. No sharp pains from broken bones or open wounds seemed to be present.
“Get up,” once again echoed above Sin. The smuggler rolled, cushioning the second kick, and his handcuffed arms wrapped around the boot. With a jerking motion the boot was twisted ninety degrees, sending the attached leg and body crashing to the metal floor.
Sin leapt upon his fallen foe. Fingers squeezed into a fleshy neck. “And stay down Hener,” his voice trailed off. The face that stared up at him was not Hener’s.
The smuggler leapt to his feet, backing from the man on the floor. Laying at his feet was a human dressed in a uniform as black as night. Emblems upon his shoulders declared that he was an Imperial colonel.
The room was surgical white, save for the gray table and two red chairs. Standing in front of the only entrance of the room stood a guard. His dark uniform contrasted the stark white walls, making him almost as imposing as the pistol in his hands. Scents of sweat, blood, and disinfectants wafted through the room, an Imperial interrogation chamber.
Backing away, Sin practically fell into one of the chairs. “You aren’t Hener. Where am I? What is this, hell?”
“No Mr. Sin Naggai, Captain of the space freighter Bolide. This is not hell and I am most certainly not the bounty hunter Hener Hawau. Rest assured though that some do call me the devil. Hener most certainly did,” the colonel spoke as he rose, joining the stunned smuggler at the table. A gleam shown in his eye. “I am Colonel Gerhard Voshage and you are upon my ship, the ISD Valiant Quasar.”
“A nice ship indeed,” Sin’s fingers traced the faint reminders of blood stains upon the tabletop. The presence of an Imperial Intelligence officer can only mean bad things. There would be no easy talk to get out of this one.
“Do not worry. I will not hold your aggression towards me against you. I was merely conducting a test to see if you were truly the man that your file says you are. However it was fortunate that you let go when you did, otherwise I would be having this conversation with a charred cinder.” The guard grunted as the colonel spoke. “You are one dangerous individual, wanted in eight Imperial star systems for various counts. Most recently an offence was leveled against you for evading an Imperial blockade on Calenist seven. A blockade which, if I’m reading this correctly, was designed to catch the Bolide and her stolen cargo before reaching this system.”
“Looks like your jackbooted soldiers need to work on their blockade skills,” Sin said defiantly. “All it took was a heavy foot to hightail it out of that system.”
Colonel Voshage studied his datapad. “Your record also shows a certain willingness to work for the Imperial cause. A fact which led many Imperial pursuers down a path of leniency, to allow your trail grow cold when justice could have been delivered.”
“So then I’m free to go?” Sin held his cuffed hands up to his captor. His eyes were wide in that doe eyed look of newborn kittens.
“Not quite,” the colonel laughed. “Your file portrays you as a blunt object. Major Weston likened you to a hammer ready willing to smash through the plate glass window of societal norms. Your methods are blunt, but results are always produced. However, I see a Sin Naggai that lives between the lines of this report. A man that has a follower of the way as a copilot cannot be as straight forward as these words portray.”
“What are you getting at?” Sin’s eyes grew heavy at the colonel’s droning tones.
“Eight worlds are demanding your apprehension. Six warrants that demand the rest of your short life be lived out from behind bars. Two warrants for your head on a pike. Eight calls of action that can be silenced by one stroke of my pen.”
“What do ya got?” Sin defiantly barked. An Imperial Intelligence colonel giving out unprovoked deals reeked with the stench of death.
“I want Master Solda Kumil. I want him alive. You will bring him to me.” The Imperial colonel’s fist crashed against the table, punctuating his words.
“And you expect me to do this how?” The sarcasm was thick in Sin’s voice.
“The boy will be released to your custody. Use him to lure Master Kumil from his ship to the planet’s surface. That is all that I request of you.”
“Tahnel comes with me,” Sin’s eyes narrowed.
“He is a good first mate to hold onto. None of our techniques could break his spirit or get a word out of him. He will be released as well.”
“Let’s talk turkey,” Sin leaned back in his chair, feet firmly on the tabletop. “I can deliver Kumil, but I need our records wiped clean, a fresh ship, and any Imperial presence removed from this star system.”
“Those are some bold demands for someone that has no stake in regional politics. Governor Beltran has requested that Naurchand be protected by Imperial forces. It was something about requesting freedom from the Consul’s persecution, a stance that I can’t fault him for having. Why do you care if this system is under Imperial protection or not?”
“Over zealous demands gives me a chip to give away in our bargaining,” Sin’s statement was brought home with a knowing wink and nod.
“Glad we got that out of the way early then,” Colonel Voshage shook his head. “Hener’s ship is yours and your records will be cleaned up once you have brought Master Kumil to me.”
“Before.”
“Before?”
“Before.” Sin’s gaze locked with Colonel Voshage. “We both know that this plan suicide mission. The fact that you voiced this plan shows that there is at least an insignificant chance that Master Kumil will be lured to the planet’s surface. Whether or not I survive is inconsequential to you. In fact, if I wind up dead then all the better for Imperial Intelligence. So, if I’m going to die doing your dirty work then I want to die as a free man. Or are you afraid that somehow I’ll escape and put a black mark upon your impeccable record?”
“Airlock him,” Gerhard dismissively waved his hand.
“Before,” Sin growled.
Colonel Voshage sighed and made some notations on his datapad. “Take him to the hanger. By Imperial decree, all charges upon you and your crew from Imperial controlled systems will be dropped by the time you leave this ship.”
The guard led Sin from the interrogation room, his pistol found a home in the smuggler’s kidney. Tahnel was directed out of another room and the pair marched side by side down the corridor. “We going to be thrown from the nearest airlock?” Tahnel flexed, testing the tension in his bindings.
“Believe it or not, but I think we made a deal,” Sin walked in step with his friend.
“Ahhhh, then we’ll live to see tomorrow.” The large green being’s voice boomed with joy.
Sin’s head hung low, “Most likely we will not.”
Thursday, April 08, 2010
Why Is There Snow
Why Is There Snow
By: James Dubeau
Why is there snow
On my car
This lovely
April morning
Please
Do not tell me
It is because
Wisconsin
Is where I call home
For there really cannot
Be any other reason
Than because
Mother nature
In all her glory
Sought to destroy
Bring me to my knees
With all the pain
And suffering
These frigid temperatures
Bestow upon me
By: James Dubeau
Why is there snow
On my car
This lovely
April morning
Please
Do not tell me
It is because
Wisconsin
Is where I call home
For there really cannot
Be any other reason
Than because
Mother nature
In all her glory
Sought to destroy
Bring me to my knees
With all the pain
And suffering
These frigid temperatures
Bestow upon me
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
On This Night
On This Night
By: James Dubeau
On this night
Of storms and such
I do want
To write so much
But my eyes
Grow weak and weary
Days been long
With rain and dreary
I must sleep
To gain my strength
Must be done
At any length
By: James Dubeau
On this night
Of storms and such
I do want
To write so much
But my eyes
Grow weak and weary
Days been long
With rain and dreary
I must sleep
To gain my strength
Must be done
At any length
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