These brief
scenes were written mainly to keep the gears greased between writing
bouts on bigger projects. The funny thing about writing, but the more
you do it, the easier it is to do. I decided that if I could put little
efforts into one to three page stand alone pieces that I would keep the
creative juices flowing for the longer stories. So far it is working.
Often I write these smaller
pieces or scenes and they get incorporated into my larger stories.
Earlier before this got started I had used up my entire supply of stand
alone scenes between The First Principe and Ships in the
Night. Well more came out, but with Jerry as the theme for the most
part. A few of those I didn't include here feature other characters.
If something dissapears from
this page that means it found it's way into something bigger. Two of
the shorts I have done, Eulogy and Departure have
already suffered that fate and are seen in That Thou Art Mindful
Caroline
swept through the front parlor and onto the veranda a soft rustle of
skirts marked her passing. Her husband sat, silent. The letter lay
loose in his hands.
"Jean, what news do you have?"
"Paul is coming home."
"Is it the end of this awful
war."
"Yes. God be praised, at long
last yes."
She gently touched his
shoulder. "Any word...."
"No." He shook his head. "No
word on either Richard or Jerold."
"Jean, can you soften your
anger?"
He say back in the chair, the
letter forgotten. "To see my sons alive, I would forgive anything
Caroline. I would forgive anything."
Paul
LaSaille finished hammering in the last nail. He laid the musket in the
hooks. "May it never again be rasied in anger."
Jean nodded. "Amen son, amen."
"How fairs the farm Father.
Have we damages that must be repaired?"
"No, by God's mercy we have
been spared the worse of the ravages of war. The core of the stud is
intact, and the majority of the good brood mares we have saved. Our
buildings have not been greatly damaged."
"Pray tell Father, how did
you save the horses?"
"By God's mercy the space we
made benieth the barns to hold the runaway Negros were large enough to
hold our horses. Yes, we lost some. But they did not seek below the
stalls for further animals."
Paul nodded. "What one gives
freely, God returns."
"There is work to be done,
and it falls to you and I to do it Paul. Have you given thought to
marriage?"
"Yes. I have not had the time
of yet to seek a wife sutiable to our station. It shall be my concern
to do so."
"What do you know of Jerold?"
"Little I fear. We were
seperated at Cold Harbor, and I have no word of his fate."
"Of Richard, I fear that like
my brother James, we shall not hear of him again."
Let us pause in life's pleasures and
count the many tears
While we all sup sorrow with the poor
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears
Oh, hard times come again no more
It's a song a sigh of the weary
Hard times hard times come again no more
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door
Oh hard times come again no more
Though we seek mirth and beauty and music
bright and gay
They are frail forms a-waiting by our door
Though their voices are silent, their pleading seems to say
Oh, hard times come again no more
It's a sigh that is wafted across the lowly
plains
It's a wail that is heard upon the shore
It's a dirge that is murmured across the lonely grave
Oh hard times come again no more
It's a song a sigh of the weary
Hard times hard times come again no more
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door
Oh hard times come again no more.*
Annobellum -- Garry Stahl, April 2005
An historical piece. A bit
of flesh on an otherwise dry entry in the Epiphany Trek chronology.
Like many families the LaSailles were divided by the issues of the
Civil War. Lexington itself was divided in sympathy and changed hands
several times, but with minimal damages. Cities such as Atlanta were
burned to the ground.
* Hard Times Come Again no
More --Stephen Foster. The song written in 1855 was popular after the
war, for obvious reasons.
Title Navigation
"Read'm
and weep Pauly." Ryan tossed the cards down on the wardroom table."
"Damn it LaSaille, do you
know how to loose?"
"Sure I do." replied the
flier with the Clark Gable grin. "I just forgot for tonight." His
buddy, Patrick laughed.
Lt. Paul Gram shook his head.
"That wipes me out."
2nd Lt. Morris looked
disappointed. "Pauly, you can quit, we have to get our money back from
this Navy card shark."
Gram shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't have scratch Morris. How can I play?"
Lt. LaSaille pointed to the
new .45 Lt. Gram wore on his belt. "What about that?"
"My gun?"
"Why not?"
Gram unhooked the holster
from his belt. "If you're willing to play for GI issue, who am I to
argue?" Gram placed the pistol on the table. Ryan handed him the cards.
Paul Gram shuffled the cards.
"Ante up boys, deuces wild."
The cards softly hit the
table as each player examined their hand. "Gimme two." "I'll hold."
"Damn, three." The cards were again passed around the table.
Gram looked around the table.
Hailey tossed his cards on the table. "Fold."
"Too easy Pat." LaSaille
threw a fin into the pot. "I'm in."
"Me too." said Morris.
Gram pointed to the .45. "I'm
good with that?"
"Sure," LaSaille replied.
"You're all in."
"I stand."
Silence lengthened as Morris
considered. "Raise." He tossed a fin and two bucks in the pot.
LaSaille considered. "Stand."
and matched him.
Gram nodded.
Morris laid his cards out.
"Two pair, aces high."
Gram smiled. "Looks like we
got you LaSaille."
LaSaille shrugged and laid
out his cards. "Full house, threes and fours."
Gram's face dropped and he
laid out his cards. "Three of a kind." The two aces and a duce looked a
little disappointing.
LaSaille gathered up the pot,
including the gun. "Gentleman, it is now fifteen minutes later than we
agreed to halt this game. Ensign Hailey and I have operations at 0500.
We bid you goodnight." The fliers left leaving the two Marines sitting
in the wardroom.
Ensign Hailey grinned. "Lt.
Commander Carter is going to split."
"We are going to get split if
we don't get in before curfew. Come on."
Lt
Commander Jim Carter was finishing the morning briefing. "Weather is
reported to be clear and cloud free for the remainder of the day. If
you see otherwise report it at once. The latest intelligence puts the
Jap forces at 150 miles and closing. If anything has changed you will
get reports before takeoff. Lastly, these are Devastators, not the
Dauntlesses. We have not had, to my mind, near enough training in these
planes. Killing Japs is good, getting you all back on the carrier is
better. OK, let's suit up and roll.
Lt
Commander Carter was suiting up with his squadron when he spotted Lt.
LaSaille with a big-assed holster in place of his issue .38.
"Lt. LaSaille." He inquired
in his sweetest voice. "Where did you get that .45?"
LaSaille turned so the "USMC"
was plainly visible on the holster. "One of the Marines was kind enough
to part with it Sir."
"Kind enough... What manner
of persuasion did you use Lieutenant?"
"Poker sir, and I won a
hundred and fifty bucks from the Marines as well as the pistol."
Carter raised eyebrow. "A
deal is a deal Lieutenant, carry on."
Card Night --Garry Stahl, May 2005
That .45 had to come from
somewhere. So here is where it comes from. I have been reseaching Ryan
Clark LaSaile's past. Tenitively the USS Bunker Hill CV-17 is the ship
he served on. The Marine holster is no longer in existence. Jerry did
not take it to 'Nam and it did not survive the destrucion of the house
in 1971.
Title Navigation
Gerry
ran down the line of trucks until he came to the first one. He levered
himself on the step.
"Paul."
The trucker rolled his window
down. "Yes Sir."
"OK, get rolling and don't
stop for anyone short of Virgina"
"Yes Sir."
Gerry lowered his voice.
"Paul, you have two hundred years of this stud's work behind you.
Please don't lose it."
Paul offered his hand, Gerry
shook it. "I'll do everything humanly possible Mr. LaSaille, and God
willing a little bit more."
Gerry jumped down from the
truck step. "ROLL OUT!"
He watched the trucks leave,
with his heart in his throat. When the last of the big trailers had
turned out of sight he trotted back to the house. He could see the
smoke from the big howitzers on the other side of the highway. The low
thudding of the artillery fire sounded dully over the hills.
The parlor was a buzz of
activity. General Hearkens was directing communication with his forces.
His aides and other officers shuffled in and out of the room. Gerry
looked at the rifled musket over the mantle, it was the last time this
manner of man had mudded the floors of his house.
The general looked up from
his computer bank. "Did you get your horses out?"
"Yes. How far?"
"They are fifteen miles away."
"What are your plans?"
"If we don't hold they will
over run Lexington. I plan to hold. What are your plans?"
"This is my home General.
I'll be damned if any man drives me out of it."
The
flashes continued over the hills long after dark. Gerry sat looking out
the bedroom window with a rifle over his lap. Aleilan lay beside him.
**You want to do something.**
**Yes.**
**What would you do?**
**I don't have any
intelligence on their positions.**
**You don't believe in this
war.**
**No, I don't, but they are
attacking my home, that makes them my problem.**
**Would you have us act?**
**Why get involved in the
wars of men?**
**You are one of us, this is
our home too.**
**Have everyone meet me out
back by the dump.**
Gerry
looked the computer screens over. The Vietnam era camo fatigues still
fit. The vacuum sealing had done its job.
As he finished up the General
came back in. "What the hell are you doing?"
"My friends and I are going
for a walk."
"A WALK! Are you crazy man?"
"No, anything but." Gerry
walked out of the room and house towards the ammo dumps. The General
was right beside him."
"All I have to do is call the
MPs, mister."
"I would advise against that,
it would be a waste of good MPs."
"Who the Hell do you think
you are?"
"Jerold Ryan LaSaille, owner
of Bellicolone and veteran of more battles than you are."
"What kind of bleeping answer
is that?"
"The truth."
The remaining farm hands had
loaded the five Ane down with munitions from the dump. Gerry twisted a
hand into Aleilan's mane and transmitted the first location to the
group.
The general continued to
seethe. "And you're going to attack the entire Western Alliance with a
bunch of antelopes?!"
"Something like that."
<CRACK!>
Tefban
looked down the hill at the camp. **So, what's the plan?**
**You lot say out of sight.
Killing grunts isn't going to stop them. I plan to hit the officers.**
**So what are we doing?**
**Carrying the bombs for
me.** Gerry loaded up with a good selection. **I'll be back.**
The
guard looked the right size. Gerry stood up and belted him with the
tree branch. The kid went down like a stuck ox. He quickly stripped him
then dressed in the uniform himself. He called an Ane down to get the
kid back to the farm. A quick moment of contact taught him what he
needed to know.
Gerry
trotted back up the hill twenty minutes later. Behind him the camp was
coming apart at the seams. The fuel and ammo dumps rocked with
explosions throwing flaming bits all over the camp. The headquarters
and officer's quarters were mostly flattened and ablaze.
Gerry grabbed horn. **Next
stop.**
Just
before dawn Gerry walked back into the parlor wearing the wrong uniform
and covered in mud. The General was shouting into phones as soldiers
rushed around.
He handed the phone off to an
aide. "What the HELL have you been up to?!"
"A little native insurgency."
"A LITTLE!? The whole of the
front for fifty miles is seething."
"I know a few tricks. Are
they falling back."
"Yes. But..."
Gerry turned around and went
back to the kitchen. The General followed him. Gerry started making
some tea.
"How in Hell's name did one
man cover a fifty mile front, and get in and out of those camps?"
"I have a few tricks."
"I wouldn't mind getting in
on those tricks Mr. LaSaille."
"No."
"What do you mean 'no'?"
"Just that. I am not going to
tell you how I did it."
"We are in a state of
emergency Mr. LaSaille. I do have certain powers at my disposal."
"General, I don't give a
rat's ass about you, the United States, or the Western Alliance. Those
men threatened my home. They are now falling back on all fronts and a
goodly percentage of their officer corp is dead. Yes, I targeted fuel,
ammo, and the top brass. Before you threaten me General, I would keep
that in mind."
Defense -- Garry Stahl, April, 2005
This would be during
Green's War in the 2040s. Jerry was home for this one. I have discussed
the situation in the Epiphany
Trek Pedia. While Mr. LaSaille didn't save the Eastern US single
handed, he was instrumental in turning them back at the gates of
Lexington.
Yes I have used "Gerry"
throughout. It was Jerry's habit to change his name through the 21st
and 22nd centuries. Jerry, Gerry, and Mr. Ryan are all variations on a
theme.
As to his comment about
fighting more battles than the General, it is likely true. Jerry was in
East Africa during the Eugenic Wars, and fought Kahn's forces and the
chaos that followed that dark time. A story on that could be in the
works.
Title Navigation
"Ahem,
start log, January 14, 2064.
"Sol is a distant light. I
am further from Earth than anything man-made has ever gotten. I passed
the Voyagers, passed the Rangers. I'm even further from Earth than
Alpha Centauri.
"Why? Why am I out here?
There are easier ways to become a hermit, but I have to question that.
Earth has gotten so small in the last century, small and very uncaring.
Technology has made it near impossible to hide. Am I hiding? After all,
I might have the first ship out the gate. I seriously doubt I have the
last, or the fastest.
"I might have simply picked
the most interesting way to die, if I can die. I question that.
Bullets, blades and bombs, oh God they hurt, but I always get better. I
at best should in an ancient cripple. More likely I should be moldering
bones. I am 116 years old today, and I am every bit as fit and strong
as the day I turned 18. I have no right to be fit or even alive, but
here I am.
"Professor Smythe always
said; "Never argue with facts. Facts will not casually brush aside if
you disagree with them". The fact is I am alive, and I am fit. I may
never know why.
"Today is my birthday. No one
here to celebrate except Aleilan and Elizabeth, not that I have much to
celebrate. After what the bastards did to Anne, I suppose they are the
only friends I have in the universe. I have nothing left but them, and
this ship. No doubt all I have worked my life to preserve is gone.
Destroyed by that bastard and his pet bastards. It would be like Green
to take it out on my horses...."
Jerry pushed away from the
computer. "Damn."
**You're troubled.** Aleilan
nuzzled the back of his neck.
**Vile thoughts. I thought I
was beyond being hurt, but I left Bellicolone behind, and I left part
of me in it.**
**It's taken care of Jerry.**
**How do you mean, it's taken
dare of?**
**You signed everything over
to the Ansisi, money, farm the works. They will take care of it. I know
how you feel, love. Those are my feelings too.**
**I figured they would
liquidate everything and hide.**
**No. I saw to that. You love
Bellicolone. And the Creator willing when you can return to Earth, it
will be waiting for you to return.**
Jerry spun his chair around
and hugged her heck. He worked up to her head until they were nose to
nose. **That's the best Birthday gift I could get.**
**And don't forget. Just
because we are way out here doesn't mean we are out of touch.**
**The All can reach out
here?**
She slurped his nose. **Look
around you Jerry. What do you think I spend most of my time doing?**
**I have been self absorbed,
haven't I."
**A little.**
**A lot. That ends tonight.
As much good company as you two girls are, I could use some mental
stretching. I am getting out into the All tonight, and maybe I'll bake
that cake after all.**
Birthday -- Garry Stahl, August 2005
I've had a bit of a dry
spell, not totally dry as I have been working on larger stories,
including one that is expanding on the "Briefing" short. This came up
tonight, so I thought I would toss it out there. The timing is obvious,
during Jerry LaSaille's journey from Earth to El Nanth. It is also one
of the few times I have placed a CE date in the story to allow it to be
nailed down.
Title Navigation
Lt.
Madison checked her board. "Commander Taggart, the aliens are closing
fast."
Taggart looked cool and
collected. "Steady as she goes Lt. Laredo."
"Yes, sir, holding steady."
Dr. Lazarus looked up from
his sensors. "Commander, if all goes as we expect this will be an
historic first meeting."
Taggart threw a grin in his
direction. "Yes, but does anything ever go as we expect?"
Jerry hit the pause button.
**I don't know, it just isn't the same any more.** He got up from the
pile of Ane he was sprawled among. **Five hours of Galaxy Quest is too
many I think. It just doesn't thrill anymore.**
The Ane pile shifted around a
bit. Lassilan asked, **Why? You have indicated you are fan of this
entertainment.**
Jerry got himself a glass of
oom juice. **A show about people pretending to be in space. Here I am
on a world that is not Earth, among a pile of very unhuman people,
watching actors pretend to be space explorers. It's dihydrogen and
antimatter, not beryllium spheres. My uplink is smaller and higher
tech, than their comms. Aleilan and I have crossed 74 light years of
space. Real adventure, and I was scared, not throwing quips to the
crew. If I want mysterious alien artifacts I need only take the shuttle
back to Builder Station. What else does one say? Fiction pales before
the reality.**
Aleilan got up. **So are you
giving up on Galaxy Quest?**
Jerry shook his head. **No,
I'm a too dyed in the wool fan I guess. But right now I'm feeling
jaded. On the bright side I am catching up on the movies I missed first
run. I'm just twitchy. It's getting late. I should turn in. I have
plenty to do tomorrow.**
**Would a few human faces
help?** Aleilan nuzzled him under the chin.
Jerry petted her absently.
**It's been what, four, five years since I've seen a human face? Do I
even remember how to talk?**
**Judging by your singing
earlier today, yes.**
**Where would we get human
faces?**
**The Ansisi have asked to
leave Earth. The post war conditions are disintegrating.**
**Damn. Even if I could get
the antimatter plants working on my own, I don't know if the Savanna
can make the haul. Never mind if I show my face I'm likely to get
shot.**
**Jerry?**
**Yes.**
**The Express, remember?**
**Oh, yea, that long distance
teleport thing. We would need to work on more than my little garden and
the oom orchard.**
**Yes, that is why we would
bring in a few at a time.**
**That's a relief. More than
few would rapidly strain my ability to cope.**
**The more we bring, the more
we have to cope. We must work quickly.**
**I don't know why you are
bothering to ask me, it is your world. I have to admit I'm looking
forward to seeing other Humans again.**
Imitating Art -- Garry Stahl, January, 2006
IIn Epiphany Trek Galaxy
Quest replaces Star Trek as the gee wizz science fiction
hit of the mid 20th century. For my money Galaxy Quest is a
throughly enjoyable parody in which I clearly saw both my self and my
friends. It also managed to be a good adventure tale on top of that.
Since Jerry is a frank self
insertion character he was a pretty serious "Questy" back in the day.
Of course the Savanna was packed with every form of entertainment he
could lay his hands on, including his favorites.
For the true "Questy" the
full run of the Galaxy Quest franchise.
Galaxy Quest (TOS) three year run The classic series.
Galaxy Quest: Reunion (motion picture) The crew of the
Protector ride again.
Galaxy Quest II (TSS) (same cast but with Guy and Jane) 7
year run. Endless arguments over whether the soul of the show was lost
even as it gained with new and better production values.
Galaxy Quest: the Spawn of Sarris (motion picture) The Son
of Sarris returns to gain revenge for the death of his Father.
Galaxy Quest: The Legacy of Lazarus (motion picture) Dr.
Lazarus was lost in the last film, or was he? The Crew of the Protector
follow the clues he left behind.
Galaxy Quest: Return to Thermian (motion picture) Having
retrieved the clone of Dr. Lazarus the Protector crew return to find
Thermian under siege by aliens with strange powers.
Galaxy Quest: Star Station Andromeda (series with new
cast) 7 years With the cast and concept getting long of tooth
Hollyweird trys the same thing, but different and harder.
Galaxy Quest: The Last Outpost (motion picture) The
brother of Dr. Lazarus seizes the Protector and takes them on a
quixotic quest to the edge of known space.
Galaxy Quest: Beyond the Farthest Star (motion picture,
original cast wrap picture) Old foes seek rapprochement when there is a
disaster on their home world.
Galaxy Quest: Traveler (series with new cast) 7 years With
the concept getting even longer of tooth Hollyweird tries again, but
with more boobs, more explosions, and harder.
Galaxy Quest: Passage (motion picture) Aging members of
the Protector crew aid the crew of the Traveler to over come a galactic
madman.
Galaxy Quest: Mutiny! (motion picture) The Traveler is
taken by renegade crew. Can Commander Wayjane save the day?
Protector Begins (Later Galaxy Quest: Protector) 3 years.
With the Galaxy Quest franchise floundering on the rocks Hollyweird
tries again with a prequel, dumber with more action and HARDER!!!
Galaxy Quest: Serpent's Tooth (motion picture) Commander
Wayjane must face off against his own son turned against the
Confederation.
All tongue firmly in cheek,
of course.
Title Navigation
The wind
sighed softly through the structures around them. Towers a half mile
high stood dotted among lower buildings, everything glass and crystal.
Aflin M'bongalonga spoke at
last. "So Jerry, what do you call this place?"
Jerry shrugged his shoulders.
"I've just called it the crystal city. I only come here to loot the
place for useful items."
"Why didn't you settle here?"
"In an empty city? I'm no
believer in ghosts but this place is spooky. It doesn't look like a
ruin. It looks like it should be full of people, but it's not. Even on
my looting trips I catch myself looking behind me suddenly."
Aflin craned his neck at one
of the taller towers. "But you want to settle the refugees here."
Jerry waved in the direction
of one of the buildings. "Come on, I'll show you why."
The
building was a midget among the giants. It was a mere two stories tall.
All the unburied windows were clean. The door had been dug out of the
dirt. Jerry walked down into the hole and in the door. Aflin followed
him. The lights came up as they did.
Aflin looked around with big
eyes. "The LIGHTS work!"
"And everything else too. The
first couple of years I was here I cleaned this building up from
boredom. Once I got a third of the glass clean, the lights came on.
Sanitation works, there is even running water, hot and cold. We can dig
the first story out, finish cleaning the glass, get some more furniture
in here and we have a nice welcome center. Heck the first refugees can
live here while they clean another building. There are some apartments
units that are small enough to get reasonably clean. The guys that
built this place were damn good engineers. It's ready made technology.
Leverage for city folk that have never lived rough."
Aflin looked about. "Crystal
City eh?"
"That works." Jerry wiped his
finger through the dust on a table.
"What about farms?"
"That we are going to have to
teach. However, those that wish to eat will learn. Come on. Lets get
going."
He and Aflin walked back into
the harsh sun.
"You have to wonder what this
place looked like at it's height." Said Aflin.
"Ask the All, someone will
have memories." Jerry punched the button to open the shuttle craft.
"Yea, I suppose they would."
Aflin mounted the shuttle ramp. It's gotten pretty bad on old Earth.
The people we bring here are going to see roughing it as a blessing."
"At least there is a here to
rough it in. Heinlein always said that the beauty of space travel is
you could get away from wars. I suppose he was righter than he would
ever know."
Settlement -- Garry Stahl, May 2006
Well the refugees had to
start coming in at some time. This would be some time after "Imitating
Art" and before "Breakthrough" by several years.
Title Navigation
Jerry
glanced at his terminal once more on the instructions of "how to stow
you kit". He continued to follow them with economic movements.
Meanwhile...
"Man I can't believe it, I
have been trying for two years to get this position, and here I am at
Starfleet Academy, the bestest place in the whole universe, now I am
finally here, it took me two years of hard work to get out of Billings,
Montana, not that Billings isn't a great place to be mind you, but it
is Montana, so I am use to wide open spaces, but not like the wide open
space of space, yea man that is the ticket, and I finally got the
ticket to here, Starfleet Academy where the spaces are wide and the
science is cutting edge like so sharp you will bleed! What did you say
your name was again?"
"Jerold LaSaille, Jerold Ryan
LaSaille."
"Can I all you Jerry?"
"Doesn't matter to me."
My name is Simon, Simon
Tullard, but I answer readily to Sam, man Jerry can you believe we are
finally here this is just awesome, totally awesome, to be at The
Academy, the very one and onliest Starfleet Academy. Four years of the
best training in the universe right here in old San Fransisco, can't
wait to get some time in town, I've never been here before, but I
understand the town is wonderful, but not has good as The Academy no
sir Bob it isn't, nothing could be as good as finally getting into
Starfleet because that is indeed the place to be, everything that is
happening is happening right here in Starfleet and now we are going to
be a part of that, new worlds new civilizations, riding out in the
latest and best of the ships in the Federation, out on the cutting edge
peeling back the unknown, you couldn't ask for better than that, and it
all starts right here at Starfleet Academy...."
Jerry folded the last
uniform, and closed his locker. It was going to be a long four years.
First Day -- Garry Stahl, August 2005
As we see Jerry LaSaille
as a Captain in the 2260s it follows that at some point he had to start
at Starfleet Academy. "Diversified" room assignment have their pitfalls.
Title Navigation
Jerry
carefully placed the copper cap over the steel nipple. The mutter of
the small crowd gathered was slightly distracting. He pulled the hammer
back to full cock and lifted the heavy riffed musket to his shoulder.
Silence fell over the observers as he drew a bead on the unfortunate
plank at the end of the field.
Kapow! A corner
of the plank flew apart as the shot echoed off the Barns. There was a
smattering of applause at the historical event. Jerry grinned from ear
to ear. "I've always wanted to do that. Thanks Ian."
"It was a pleasure Captain,
but ye need to be thankin' Lt Masterson. He did the work."
"Excellent work Mr Masterson.
It has been a hotly debated question for nearly two hundred years as to
whether this gun could be fired. Thanks to you, we have an answer."
"I was an honor to work on it
Captain."
"Well I'd better clean it out
before I hang it back up." Captain LaSaille tuned to the crowd at
large. "Party down people."
Giles
Masterson turned back to his lover Candy Meyers. "Pay up."
The Bet -- Garry Stahl, March 2005
A really short short.
Something from Jerry's "Kongo" era.
Title Navigation
Commander Levyson looked
around Admiral LaSaille's gracious home while the Admiral himself
delved back into the private areas of the house. Aleilan, the little
Ane that followed him everywhere lay to one side of the study and
chewed without comment.
One shelf of books attracted
her. They looked a little on the careworn side, and were made of real
paper. Levyson studied the titles on the spines.
The Admiral returned as she
was peering at the books.
"See something you want to
read Tara?"
"No, well, maybe. I don't
know that I would want to touch them."
Jerry quirked a smile. "Books
are for reading."
"I've never seen paper books
outside a museum Sir. How old are these?"
"Late 20th century, some
early 21st."
"And you have them on an open
shelf?"
"I had the lot acid
stabilized back in '29. The process was a revolution at the time and
saved a hell of a lot of books."
"Where did you get them?" Her
fingers ran down the ancinet spines, just short of touching them.
"Bookstores. Walk in select
your title from the copies on the shelf, pay at the counter. That bunch
is very lucky."
"How so sir?"
"I had packed my favorites
and moved them to Purple House before my apartment was bombed."
"Bombed?! Who would do such a
thing?"
"Green, Tara. Colonel Green."
"Green was the 21st century.
Wait, when you said '29 did you mean 2029?"
"Yes Tara. I meant 2029. Have
a seat."
She sat. A badger brought her
a drink. "I have heard you where old, but that old?"
"Don't be too shocked, the
Galaxy is a strange place. We were discussing books."
"I took a minor in literature
in the Academy. Heinlein I know has a sizable body of work. E. E. Smith
I have never seen. And I have never seen anything but the two books by
Anne McCaffery?"
"McCaffery is one of my
favorite authors. She was a sparking woman with a great sense of humor."
"You met her?"
Jerry smiled. He got up and
took The White Dragon down from the shelf. "Take a look."
Levyson handled the antique
gingerly. She opened the cover and read. "'To Jerry LaSaille, Anne
McCaffery.' She signed it for you?"
"Yes. These shelves hold my
first editions, my signed books. The books I love. They are all that
survives of a much larger collection."
"Sir, half these books are
not even in the catalog?"
"What?"
"The White Dragon,
Renegades of Pern, and more. They are not listed."
Aleilan by this point had
stopped chewing and tuned in as well. Jerry looked at the book in his
hand. "You mean that one of my all time favorites has never gotten into
the database?"
"No Sir. I don't know why.
But I would say a good half your collection here is lost books."
"I never even considered it.
They were so popular I thought all of them would surely survive. Do you
have your tricoder."
"Of course Admiral."
"Then let's rectify that lack
right now."
Common Knowledge -- Garry Stahl, November 2004
The one point of truth.
That hardback copy of The White Dragon exists. The only
difference is it's signed to me. Jerry being a blatant self insertion
character, he has my taste in books.
Title Navigation
He
gently massaged his temples. At long last he raised his head. "OK,
let's hear it again."
"...save your ships, save
yourselves. This is our final message...."
"Turn it off." Admiral
LaSaille lurched from his chair headed for the door.
"Sir?" Said Commander
Levyson. "What are we to do?"
LaSaille stopped and looked
back. "What do you suggest Comamnder? We are 74 light years from Earth."
"I... I don't know sir." She
sank into her chair.
LaSaille walked over to her
and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Tara, I want to do something. But
I'm as much at a loss as you are. We are too far out, and no better
equiped. If Earth can't handle it, what can we do? We don't have a
super ship hidden in the back of the station."
"I feel so utterly helpless."
"As do I. Don't count the old
Lady down yet Tara. Earth has survived before. And as much as the
thought is not a comfort now, Earth is not the Federation. We are still
here. Humanity will survive."
She looked up thought tear
stained eyes. "What are you going to do?"
"I know the location of a
very fine bottle of burbon Tara. I'm going to get a stiff drink, and
remember Earth as I knew her."
It
took Jerry three tries to get the door open, and he hadn't even reached
that burbon yet. He finally got to the wardroom door. Clarke and
Aleilan were waiting for him.
"Son?"
"Sit down Dad."
"How did you know I would
come here?"
"Where else would you go when
you feel like Hell?"
**And don't ask how we know
you feel like Hell.**
Jerry grabed her neck and
buried his face in it. He stayed there a long time. At last he came up
for air and pulled himself together. "So, how's your Mother?"
"Mother is fine, she heard
the report and was worried about you. She was afraid you would do
something stupid, like get drunk. You're a lousy drunk."
"I don't get much pratice."
He quirked a smile. "You didn't hide my burbon did you?"
"No, it's in the rack where
it always is."
"No, that's happy burbon. I
don't think I'll drink that now. Were is the Black Jack? Nasty stuff,
perfect for a pity party."
"It's in the rack too."
Jerry searched the overhead
for a moment and came down with the required bottle and glasses. "Want?"
"One. You should have one
too."
"You're right." Jerry poured
the glasses and put the bottle back.
Clake looked the wiskey over
and took a thoughtful sip. "Earth is in deep this time."
"Yea, happens ever couple of
decades, and no Kirk to help this time."
"Where is he?"
"Vulcan, having his own pity
party. It's all top secret, I shouldn't even think about it without a
tinfoil hat on."
"So, why did you come down
here."
Jerry smiled sadly. "It's my
own little piece of Earth." He softly caressed the bulkhead. "Built of
Earth, by Humans. There are bits of the past in this hull. Bits of
Home."
"I thought Savanna was home?"
Jerry took a sip. "So did I.
I guess Earth still means something to me. Why else do I keep that old
farm?"
Clarke leaned in. "You are
not, going to start singing My Old Kentucky Home."
"No, half a drink is not
nearly drunk enough for that."
**For which all present are
grateful.**
"Et tu Aleilan?"
**I get the headache too.**
He kissed her nose. "I
understand."
"Dad, let's go home."
Jerry drained his glass. "All
right. Let's go home."
Clarke
joined his Father on the veranda. The distant storms backlit by the
fadeing sun. "So Kirk pulled another rabbit from his hat."
Jerry swirled the juice in
his glass. "Yep. The gods favor that one. Earth is saved, and the hero
triumphs."
"Bitter?"
"No. Better him than me. It's
been a long time since I wanted to be a hero. The job is too dangrous
and the side benifits are too fleeting."
"What now?"
"I head back to Earth. My
leave is over at the end of the week in any case. I'll grab Levyson and
we head back by Express."
"Mom worries about you."
"She can always join me on
Earth, I've said as much, to her, directly."
"That's not what she wants."
"She knew I was in Starfleet
when she begged me to marry her."
"Yea. I know. It sucks being
caught in the middle."
"Clarke, you are your own
man. It's time you left the nest."
"Who will take care of Mom?"
"No one here goes without
what they need. You presence is a want."
"It's hard to say no."
"That is the nature of life
Son. The good things are seldom easy."
"I'll think about it."
Helplessness -- Garry Stahl, November 2004
As I was writing this
little piece to explain what Jerry was doing during the principle
events of Star Trek 4, Clarke LaSaille popped into my head. "Well,
Aleilan will be waiting in the ship," followed by "and so will his
son." I love it when that happens. Thus were born Clarke LaSaille and
his unseen difficult Mother. Jerry is Human, and no monk. Wives and
children do happen from time to time.
Title Navigation
Jerry
LaSaille sat in the antebellum office of Bellicolone with Jacob Martin
his farm manager. "All considered Jacob, the farm got off easy. Outside
of the old barn what more needs repaired?"
"We lost some fencing in the
western pastures Mr Jerold. The low ground took some mighty flooding.
Them old posts just bubbled up right out of the ground. Was all washed
clean away."
"Fix what needs fixing. I'll
not tell you your job. I am grateful we lost no people or stock."
"Grateful indeed Mr. Jerold.
Claiborne lost half their barns to flood. Will you be staying long?"
"Yes, I am stationed in San
Fransisco. I see no reason not to sleep in my own bed. And see what
assistance we can get Claiborne, or any farm that was hard hit."
"Yes Mr. Jerold. Miss Lilly
will be glad to have you back."
Jerry wagged his eyebrows. "I
hope I still pass muster. Miss Lilly is not an easy master."
"No Mr. Jerold, you be the
one that owns this farm."
"You tell that to Miss Lilly."
"I happen to like living Mr.
Jerold, happens I do."
Jerry clapped him on the
shoulder as they rose. "Keep it up Jacob and you'll have me drawling
like I never left the place."
"Well Mr Jerold, the
tourists, they do expect it, and they don't teach this on Deneva."
Jerry laughed. "I better see
to my bags. Call me if anything unusual comes up."
"Will do."
They both left the office.
Jacob back out to the farm and Jerry into the main house. The parlor
was an eclectic mix of styles from the 19th century to the 21st.
Commander Levyson was looking at the ancient screen.
"It's not responding Sir. Who
do we call for repair?"
"For that? No one as far as I
know. Tara, that's a 21st century plasma screen high definition
television. It was on the fritz back in 2050. I don't think it works at
all now."
"Twenty-first century?
Shouldn't it be in a museum?"
"I'd call one if it worked. I
was too busy to replace it then, and it has become a bit of a fixture.
I suppose I could have the old guts pulled out and modern comm gear
installed."
"Sir, that's a priceless
artifact."
"Tara, the whole house is a
'priceless artifact'. That chair you're sitting on is from the 1860s."
She jumped up, carefully. "Sit down. Everything in this house is an
antique, including the house."
"How can you live here?"
"It's the family estate. You
might as well ask the Windsors how they can live in Windsor castle. The
house was first built in 1833."
"First built?"
"Yes, it was largely
destroyed in 1971 by a tornado. I had it rebuilt. We recovered a good
deal of the furniture. Haunting antique shops or modern work replaced
the rest."
"How do you replace such an
old house?"
"With improvements. Central
heat and air conditioning, insulation and hidden double pane glass if I
recall. We kept the look antebellum, but modernized throughout. I have
it gone over every 50 years and improved as required. the parlor is
something of a family museum. That musket over the fireplace for
example, it was used by Paul LaSaille as a member of the Union army in
the American Civil War. Other kids in school were taught history. I had
it on the wall. Farm records go back unbroken to the original deed in
1833."
"I've always lived in city
apartments. I thought this kind of thing was history?"
"It is history. The only
reason the estate has lasted is some careful work by myself and people
I trusted. It also involved a bit of shooting in Green's War."
"What do you do with all the
land?"
"Raise horses. The farm
started as a walking horse stud. Since the 20th century we have
expanded into breed preservation. You will find the Bellicolone Stud on
the list of biological preservation sites. You need a lot of open land
to breed and raise horses. Bellicolone is one of less than a dozen
farms that still operate. Let's take a walk."
Jerry suited actions to words
and headed out the front of the house. Alielan looked up from her
grazing as he came out and wandered over to join them.
Tara, I intend to live here
as long as possible. Duty might take me away, but while stationed on
Earth I will live in my own home."
"What is expected of an
Admiral's aid Sir?"
"Mostly it's a nine to five
job. I can't expect Starfleet Command to alter its operations for
little old me, so it will be late to bed and late to rise, by local
time."
"Am I expected to be on call?"
"Not to the degree you need
to sleep under the same roof I do if that is what you're thinking."
"Yes sir, that had crossed my
mind."
"Keep your independence. We
will see enough of each other during duty hours that we don't need to
be bumping into each other on the way to the bathroom in the middle of
the night."
Levyson looked relieved.
"I've heard some tales sir."
"Of Admirals that wanted aids
waiting hand and foot?"
"Yes."
"I've heard them too, but
I've never run into those Admirals. There are demanding men and women
in the service, and I am one of them, but not that demanding."
As they spoke a horse
wandered over to the fence. Jerry gave it a fond pat. Levyson looked
askance at the horse.
"Do horses bother you?"
"I can't really say, I've
never been this close to one."
"We'll save the horse lessons
for another day."
"This is all so different.
The sights, the sounds and smells. I never dreamed that a world like
this could even exist as a child in Jeursulam."
"The rural life is a fragment
of a bygone era. The world this farm represents was dying at the time
that the Stud was at it most prosperous, the late 20th century. My
invenstments in other endeavors support the Stud. It loses money every
year, even with the endowment of the BPS. If it hadn't been for the
Ansisi looking after my affiars I would have lost the farm between 2063
and 2210."
"You were gone over a hundred
and fifty years?"
"Yes, it's one of the reasons
I reguard Landing City as much home as I do Bellicolone."
"I can't wrap my head around
that Admiral. I can't concieve of someone being that old."
"Most people cannot. Don't
worry about it. Live in the here and now. Speaking of which, I should
get you back to Frisco."
Night
settled gently around the house. Jerry sat on the porch with a cold
glass of tea in one hand and his favorite Ane under the other. The
night sounds drifted around them.
**It's been a while.**
Jerry ruffled her mane.
**Yes, but it feels comfortable now. I think I've gotten the old ghosts
to rest.**
**Sleeping in the master
bedroom?**
**Yes, as fitting for the
master of the house.**
My Old Kentucky Home -- Garry Stahl, November 2004
A bit of character fluff.
After every disaster comes the clean-up. As we were so brutally remined
with the Tsunami of 2004. How many died in the Whale Probe caused
weather? We are never told. But nature is mighty, and we are small.
This is also a chance to see
some of Jerry's Earth home, Bellicolone. Take paridise as seen by a
horse add one antbellum mansion as per Gone With the Wind, and
you have the place. Kentucky horse country is pretty indeed. My thanks
go to the Lexington Hosts of Breyerfest, which has been my main look at
the area. I am impressed.
Title Navigation
The fog
lay thick across the bay. The inside of the Captain's club was warm and
cozy. A few of his colleagues ate quietly at their own tables. It its
own discrete corner Howard Nelson's hat rested on Richard Barnard's hat
rack. Jerry raised his tea in silent toast. Good men both.
Joe the club Steward came
around to check the condition of the Admiral's teacup. Jerry nodded in
greeting. "Morning Joe. What is the good word?"
Joe nodded in return. "The
Coast Guard salvage ship arrived last night. Word is they are going to
pull the Klingon Scout off the bottom today."
"That will be worth looking
into."
"The Enterprise trial is
tomorrow."
"That I knew about. I have to
be there. Kirk did blow one of my ships up."
"Do you have an opinion sir?"
"If I did Joe, I couldn't
tell you."
"Understood sir."
"Well I need to be off.
Nogura wants everyone there at 0900. That is one man you don't keep
waiting."
Admiral
Robert Wesley was holding forth. "Kirk has once again proved his
ability to roll though the worst pile of crap and come up smelling like
a rose. I don't like the idea of Geneva interfering in Starfleet
business. I know he saved the Earth, again. But he broke just about
every regulation in the book doing it, and likely some regulations we
haven't even made yet."
"What do you suggest Bob,"
asked LaSaille, "a return to keelhauling?"
"Kirk has been a loose cannon
since his days as an active Captain, and worse as an Admiral. What kind
of example does this show the rest of the service?"
"Perhaps that certain men
should be left in the jobs they do best."
Nogura broke in. "So Admiral
LaSaille, what do you think of Geneva's request?"
"We are the handmaiden of the
civil government sir."
Wesley leaned in. "So you
think Kirk should get off scot free?"
"No, I don't, but shall we
weight the factors? Of all the ships that could have responded, all of
them ships better equipped and manned. Kirk and his handful of
renegades, in a seized rust bucket of a Klingon ship, acted, found the
answer, and delivered. What did he destroy? A ship that we had planned
to scrap, for political reasons. What did he gain? Only the lives of an
entire planet. Why? He failed to do as he was told."
Wesley rapped the table as he
spoke. "We cannot allow the disobedience to orders to be condoned by a
lack of action."
"Fine, demote him. Put him
back into line command."
"You call that a punishment?"
"That is exactly what it is.
Drop him to Captain with appropriate loss of seniority and position on
the Captain's list. He'll never make Admiral again."
Nogura looked thoughtful.
"And if he resigns rather than take a reduction in rank?"
"Punishment self inflicted.
We don't have James T. Kirk to kick around any more."
Nogura frowned. "I don't
know. Kirk has done outrageous things before. But this is the most
outrageous yet. Never before has he disobeyed a direct order."
LaSaille leaned his elbows on
the table. He looked Nogura right in the eye. "Never in your haste to
do the right thing, forget to do the good thing."
Nogura locked eyes with
LaSaille. After a brief moment he nodded briskly. "This meaning is
adjourned. I will deliver my recommendations to the President this
afternoon."
Deliberations -- Garry Stahl, November 2004
Yes, LaSaille is an
Admiral, and senior one at that time. It only makes sense he would have
a say, or at least a word in the matter of Kirk.
There are a number of
references to other stories in this one. What you get with a single
author is continuity.
Title Navigation
The
window lit up with lightning shortly followed by a roll of thunder that
shook the house. Jerry LaSaille could hear Miss Lilly on the floor
below as he worked at his desk in the study. It would be a while before
anyone on Earth slept through a thunderstorm after the weather caused
by the Whale Probe.
He snapped the PADD off with
a sudden decision as thunder buffeted the windows yet again. He made
his way down to the kitchen. Miss Lilly looked up from her fussing as
he came in.
"Mr. Jerold, you still up?"
"I should ask the same
question. It's well past your bed time."
"I find it hard to sleep."
She looked out the kitchen window at the beating rain.
"I understand. I came down to
raid the fridge."
"Well, don't let me stop
you." She peered out the window with the next flash of lightning.
"There is someone on the back lawn."
As if in reaction to her
statement the outside lights came on followed by a pounding on the
door. Jerry shot her a look and went to the door. The rapping was
repeated. "Who the Hell?" Jerry opened the door. His son was framed in
the opening "Clarke? How did you get here?"
Clarke LaSaille stood on the
back porch with water streaming down his face. "Roban. Do you mind if I
come in?"
Jerry stepped out of the
door. "Come in, please. Miss Lilly, get a robe and some towels please."
Miss Lily went for them at
once. "I don't know why anyone would be out on a night like this. Mercy
sakes." Her voice fadeing as she left the room.
Clarke came in followed by
Roban, who was equally as wet.
Jerry took Roban by the nose.
**Don't shiver, or we'll all be wet.**
**Tall order.** His skin
twitched with the suppressed instinct.
"Clarke, get out of those wet
things."
Miss Lilly was back shortly
with an armload of towels and a robe. Towels were dropped over Roban
and Clarke got dry as well while Jerry dialed up some tea.
Jerry then helped Roban get
dried off. **Are you staying or moving to join the general herd?**
**It's the middle of the
rainy season. Where is everyone here?**
**Tonight, in the ballroom.
There might be one or two Ane wide spots left.**
**Thanks.** Roban left the
kitchen seeking the company of his own kind.
By this point Miss Lilly had
Clarke into the robe and sipping on a cup of tea at the Kitchen table.
Jerry sat down as well.
"I suppose the obvious
question is what brings you here?"
Clarke looked into his tea.
"I had a blow up with Mother. Shouting, arm waving, the works."
"And...."
"I needed to get away."
Jerry took a sip of his own
cup. "Crystal City wasn't far enough 'away'?"
"Not this time." The rain
continued to vent it's fury.
"What was different this
time?"
Clarke sat back pulling the
robe around him. "I don't really know Dad. It was the same tired
argument, the same emotional appeals. Maybe that is it, there was
nothing different, except I have heard it one too many times."
"So why all the way here?"
"Mom might look around
Crystal City for me. She won't come here."
"That's likely. What about
your work?"
"It will hold. I told
Elizabeth I was leaving."
"That will keep you covered.
What next?"
"I don't know. Maybe I just
need some time to cool off. Time to think without my head being messed
with all the time."
"Indefinite stay?"
"Yea, until I can think this
out."
"You'll need to call Nairobi
in the morning, and let them know you are here. This is Earth, not El
Nanth. Bureaucrats so thick you can't help but step on them."
"Ugh, it might be a short
indefinite stay."
"Don't make plans now. That
will keep till morning."
"Yea, is there anything to
eat around here. I left just before dinner."
Jerry smiled. "I was fixing
for a kitchen raid myself. Let's see what we can find."
The Break -- Garry Stahl, November 2004
Another character piece
with Clarke. Not much else to say about it.
Title Navigation
"Good
morning Tara." Jerry walked passed his aid's desk. toward his own
office.
"Morning Admiral. Captain
Styles is waiting for you."
"Good. Are the orders in
place."
"Yes sir."
"Tell everyone to move. I
want it done in five minutes."
Levyson pressed a stud on her
desk. "The word is given."
"affirmative" said the voice
from the speaker."
LaSaille nodded and entered
the office. Styles was looking out the windows at the morning traffic
on the bay. Jerry waited a moment, watching him watch. He walked to his
desk, sat, then cleared his throat.
Styles started and turned
quickly. "Admiral LaSaille, I didn't hear you come in."
"Captain Styles, sit down."
Styles took the indicated
seat. "You left a message that I was to see you sir, as soon as
possible."
"Yes. Why isn't the Excelsior
ready for operational status."
"Well, ahem, we have been
having some difficulties in the shake down. I don't think we have
located all the damage done to the drives Admiral."
"You have had two months to
repair ten minutes of work."
"Mr. Scott is a most thorough
engineer sir...."
"I don't buy it. I don't buy
the 'Scotty is an engineer beyond mortal hope.' line. I am calling some
engineers in from outside the project, to audit it."
"Sir, I must object, the
transwarp project is cutting edge. Most engineers will not understand
it."
"I am of the opinion that if
Starfleet engineers cannot understand something, if it is beyond their
understanding, then it is not engineering. What might it be if it is
not engineering?"
"Admiral LaSaille, I have the
highest confidence that we can work these minor bugs out of the
traswarp drives. We will have them working."
LaSaille noted the light
winking on his desk. "We shall know shortly if your confidence is well
founded. As of this moment the command codes have been changed on the
Excelsior by my order. You are relieved of command Captain. The
auditors have control of the Excelsior."
Styles sat gaping like a fish
out of water.
"I strongly suggest you keep
yourself handy should the audit team have any questions."
"On
examining the USS Excelsior we have concluded that the transwarp system
is unstable, and even if run within accepted tolerances would prove a
danger to her crew." Captain Henderson sat down.
LaSaille looked over the
figures in front of him. "In short Captain Henderson you are telling me
the transwarp project is a crock of shit, and it stinks?"
Henderson leaned on the
conference table. "Yes sir, it is my opinion and the opinion of my team
that Starfleet was sold a bill of goods. The promised performance will
never materialize."
"Your recommendation?"
"I recommend that the
Excelsior be refit with a standard warp drive system before it is
turned over to an operational crew."
LaSaille sat, arms crossed.
"Just ducky."
Henderson blinked. "Sir?"
"An expression of frustration
Captain Henderson, proceed with your recommendation. Excelsior is back
into the design phase. Get the refit rolling at once, if not sooner.
I'll file the report with Admiral Cartwright.
"Admiral
LaSaille, this is unacceptable."
"What sir is unacceptable
about the report?"
"We cannot have the Excelsior
tied up for additional years waiting for a new warp system, we need her
and ships like her out on patrol, now."
"I strongly disagree sir. If
we have ships like her on patrol we will have less ships and fewer
crews. Captain Henderson's report states the facts. Excelsior is not a
safe ship. I will not certify her for duty."
"Do you have any safe ships
Admiral LaSaille?"
"I have several thousand. I
take it you are referring to the Enterprise A."
"I seem to recall asking for
her specifically to deal with the Nimbus 3 situation."
"You did and you are changing
the subject sir."
"Then I'm changing the
subject. Why wasn't she sent?"
"The Enterprise A had not at
the time been reported fit for duty by her Captain. An officer of long
experience."
"Which is why I wanted him on
the scene."
"Then why was transferring
him to the Constellation for the mission not acceptable? I offered you
the combination of any fit ship and Captain James T. Kirk, but you
refused. It was Kirk and the Enterprise A, or nothing. I seem to recall
that Captain Strak handled the matter without further loss of life, and
saw the miscreants arrested for their crimes."
Cartwright fussed with the
PADDs on his desk. "Yes, an acceptable outcome."
"But not the outcome you
wanted."
Cartwright's head snapped up.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because...it is most evident
that it was not the outcome that was wanted." LaSaille looked him right
in the eyes.
Sweat popped on to
Cartwright's brow. "What outcome do you think was wanted, Admiral?"
LaSaille continued his level
gaze. "I don't know, but displeasure at the the outcome we have is
evident."
"Get your freaky powers
out of my head!"
LaSaille kept his level gaze.
"My, 'powers', as you quaintly put it are not in your head Admiral
Cartwright. Telepathically probing a superior officer is not a
permitted action under the uniform code if I recall correctly. Unless
one believes and states sufficient cause to believe that one's superior
officer's mind has been controlled by someone else, and have so logged
that belief."
Cartwright broke the stare.
"You seem to know a lot about the uniform code as pertains to telepaths
Admiral."
"It is in my best interest to
know these things. About Excelsior...."
Cartwright went back to his
PADDs. "Do as you see fit. Dismissed."
Audit -- Garry Stahl, March 2005
I did this one some time
back, but was holding it back to see if it developed into something
more. What the heck, here it is. The timing of the story is fairly
obvious.
Title Navigation
Rain
hissed down in sheets outside the stable door. Jerry continued to brush
down the big Tennessee Walker in the quiet gloom of the barn aisle. No
sound but the rain, and the horses muttering one to the other. A dusty
haze filtered the wane light as he worked. This was simple work that
hearkened back to a time before memory. A time when some forgotten
genius decided that a horse was better to ride than to eat.
**I would love to meet him.**
**Yes Aleilan, so would I.
Every time I touch a horse I think of the wonderful gift he gave us.**
Aleilan cocked her head at
him. **Horses are a gift?**
**A gift, helpmate,
companion, friend. For three thousand years we built our world on the
backs of horses."
The mare turned her head to
look him in the eye. "Yes, girl, I'm thinking about you." He briskly
brushed her withers. **Now we give the few that remain beautiful places
to live, and a life of horsey ease.**
**Today's ride was ease?**
**You ask her. Is she happy?**
**Yes, but you knew that.**
**You asked me a question
beautiful one. I know she likes running with you.**
**We like running with the
horses. They are bright for animals.**
**So made by man. Horses and
dogs are the animals we bred for intelligence. Someone to be our
friends, not simply our servants.**
**You don't seem to have much
affinity for dogs.**
**I never have.** Jerry led
the mare into her box. He checked her hay and the water system.
Aleilan idly chewed at a bit
of hay. **Better quality than usual.**
**Good crop this year. We
have a good amount laid up as well.** He latched the stall door behind
him. The mare continued to pay attention to her hay.
Jerry looked out again at the
rain. The barn cat twined around his feet supplicating for any treats
he might have. **Well, we might as well finish up in the barn before
supper. That doesn't look like it is letting up soon.**
Miss
Lily cocked her head at the slight "whump" upstairs, and the kitchen
chandelier shook slightly. "Well. Mister Jerrod and Aleilan are finally
in from the barn.
Clarke continued to mash the
potatoes. "At least he has time to clean up before supper. Horse, ugh."
"Now young man, horses,
including their smell, made this here farm all it is. You best be
learning to like it."
Carol shifted the roast as
she basted it. "Horses don't have as much odor as Ane. They are both
pleasant."
Clarke shook his head. "I
guess it's what you grow up with. I grew up with Ane. We don't have
horses on Savanna."
Carol finished up with the
roast. "You don't? I'm surprised someone didn't import them."
"Someone did after contact.
They died. I understand it wasn't pretty. No one has tried since."
Miss Lily continued forming
biscuits and placing them in her pan. "More's the pity. I don't think a
place is fit for man without horses."
"I remember Dad telling me
stories about Bellicolone when I was a kid. It always seemed to be a
magical place like Pern, or Middle Earth. Not a place where real people
lived or worked. I always got Bellicolone and Benden Weyr mixed up in
my dreams. Horses were dragons, dragons were horses. I guess my biggest
surprise on seeing a real horse was that it was so small."
The kitchen door shook as
Jacob came in from the farm. He stripped his slicker and boots. "Woh,
that rain is coming down. Mr Jerrold in from the West Barn?"
Miss Lily nodded. "Yes, they
popped in a few minutes ago. You still have plenty of time to clean up."
He smiled. "I'll take that
hint." He departed for the upstairs.
Miss Lily continued with her
biscuits: "Horses were small. Heh, I would never have thought it."
Clarke continued mashing. "I
was disappointed they didn't fly too."
Carol set the roast back in
the oven. "I thought you were born on Earth Clarke?"
"I was, but when Dad took
command of the Kongo Mom took me back to Savanna. I was too young to
remember then."
Miss Lily put her biscuits
into the second oven. "I have never been off Earth. I cannot see why I
should start."
Carol checked the green
beans. "It is worth it if only once in your life. I can see why it
draws the people it does. Space has a stark beauty."
"Dad said you and Jacob are
from Deneva."
"That's right. Jacob answered
Mr Jerold's ad for a horse farm manager. Deneva has plenty of horses."
Dad took me out once on the
Kongo. I was still a kid and it was very exciting. Other than shuttles
around the system, that and my trip to El Nanth in the first place it
was my only Starship trip. I always wanted to take a trip on the
Savanna."
Jerry entered the kitchen on
that remark. "Sorry Clarke, that isn't likely to happen."
"Pity, she is a marvelous old
ship."
"Marvelous old wreck. I don't
want to think about what it would take to get her space worthy."
"You should consider it. It
would aid in preserving her."
"Yes, that it would. I'll put
it on the list of things to do."
Jacob looked into the
kitchen. "Supper about ready? I'll chase down the boys."
"Soon as the biscuits are out
and the table set." Said Miss Lily.
Jerry went to the cabinet.
"I'll get those dishes."
After
supper Jerry walked back among the barns with Aleilan. Water ran down
the cobbled path in the aftermath of the rain. The clouds slowly parted
to reveal the stars.
**I used to stand here as a
kid and look at the stars with my brother. We had a telescope. The
wonders that simple tube revealed. I never dreamed I would be here now,
seeking the places I have visited.**
**The past we can know. The
future is always a mystery.**
**Yes, but it's that mystery
that keeps us going.**
Reflections -- Garry Stahl, April 2005
I have been working around
this one for a while. It wasn't going anywhere. Well it never did, but
it's too good a character piece to leave behind.
Title Navigation
Snow
fell gently on the bare trees. Big soft flanks drifted down on a nearly
windless night. Jerry lifted the mug of hot coco to his lips and
watched the snow fall. Magical, that was the word that always sprang to
mind. Snow changed everything. The trees and fences became things of
wonder in the difuse moonlight and the falling snow.
The fire burned low. It's
glowing logs were the only light in the parlor. Christmas Eve. The tree
lent it's odor to the atmosphere. The speakers softly played the tunes
from his childhood.
Jerry smiled, the old crooner
never sounded better, and indeed it would be a white Christmas, a rare
one. With half lidded eyes he could almost see his Mother in the
rocking chair, her kinting on her lap. He and his brother by the old
RCA putting the big 78 records on one by one. His sister as usual was
shifting the presents beneath the tree, looking to see how many she
had. Dad? But of course, he was in his Father's chair, and the presence
of the old man was close beside him. Uncle Joe doubtless had all his
corny old stories to tell again, and Aunt Marie would fuss about them
as usual.
Susan was here with their
young son, and Anne, it was good she could make it too. Connie sat by
the fire with her warm smile, just for him. Hanee and Nia gathered into
the circle. Sara was here too, Oh Sara, the things I never told you.
Just then the kids came bursting in from some game. He reached out to
hug them all.
"...Just like the ones I used to know
Where the treetops glisten
and children listen
To hear sleigh bells in the snow..."
The
fire slowly died in the hearth as Jerry sank down into his chair.
Aleilan, carefully not to wake him, licked the tears from his cheeks.
She lay back down at his feet and cradled her head in his lap. His
hand, unseeing, sought the comfort of her touch.
**Sleep well my love. For as
long as we remember, are they ever truly gone?**
Ones I Used to Know --Garry Stahl, November 2004
I seriously doubt anyone
will ever get the punch in the gut this little piece gave me, and I
would not wish it on them. Never have I poured words onto a page with
as much emotion. I have had an interesting life. That is really all
that need be said. It gives insight into the character of someone that
has loved and lost, again and again.
Title Navigation
Clear,
bright, cold. Christmas morning was cold for the typical Kentucky
winter day. The new-fallen snow covered Bellicolone in a blanket that
muffled sound. The horses frolicked in the unfamiliar snow. Even they
seem to understand that the day was special and the snow was meant to
be played in.
Jerry stood on the porch and
watched for a few minutes. He heard the door creak open yet again.
Aleilan checking to see that he hadn't frozen stiff, again.
"No I have not succumbed to
the rigors of the weather."
**It's cold outside. You
should be wearing more.**
"Yes mother." Jerry continued
to watch the horses in the nearest pasture as they tossed their heads
and chased each other.
The door creaked again as she
stuck her head out up to the horns. **Breakfast is ready. Are you
coming in?**
"Yes yes, I'm coming in. Miss
Lily's biscuits are not to be missed."
Jerry
hung his jacket by the kitchen door. The kitchen was warm. Miss Lily
had gone all out and cooked a real meal for Christmas breakfast,
nothing from the processor this time. She looked up from placing dishes
as he closed the door.
"Well, it is about time you
stopped looking to catch a cold."
"You know I've never been
sick a day in my life."
"Well that's something where
it's never to late to start."
The door opened again. Jacob
and Clarke stomped in from the snow. Clarke looked about half frozen.
Jerry poured him a coup of coffee and got it into his hands. He
clutched the cup gratefully.
"Man oh man, I thought I
would never miss El Nanth. It is cold out there."
"Brisk." Said Jacob. "That is
what we call brisk. Oh boy I smell something good."
Miss Lily fussed. "And it is
right going to waste if you men do not set down and start eating."
Carol Martin came in from the
parlor herding her and Jacob's two boys. Presents had been opened at
the crack of dawn. They piled into chairs agog at the breakfast spread.
Clarke took a seat and Jacob sat next to his wife. Aleilan settled down
at her place next to Jerry's chair. At last Miss Lily sat as well,
satisfied that all was prepared as well as it could be prepared.
Jerry addressed the table.
"We come once again to join in the fellowship of food. Here at the end
of the year, and the beginning of the next. Let us dwell on those gifts
we have, and not upon those we do not. May we be grateful that within
the circle of our family we have not suffered loss as we have in years
past. Let us hold in our hearts a proper thankfulness for the fact that
we have food in plenty, shelter that is secure, and that out other
needs are equally met, for this is not the universal case for all
beings. Lastly may we be thankful for the gift that is each other. Both
those present at our table this morning and for those who are not. For
our greatest gift that is given and that is to give is the love and
friendship we share one with the other. Merry Christmas to each and
every one of you."
The Gift of the Magi -- Garry Stahl, December 24, 2004
God bless us, every one.
Title Navigation
The
company was good, the new warriors fresh and eager from their training
gathered about the old heroes and begged tales of glory. All but MogQua
told their tales of battle to the eager youth.
Finally Mogtak turned to his
Grandfather. "Sire, you are the greatest warrior among all here. What
is the most frightening foe you ever faced?"
The old man took a long sip
from his blood wine. "It was a Human." he said quietly.
The young warriors muttered
their denial. "A human?" "How could a Human be fearful?" "Humans are
barely worthy foes."
"SILENCE." Cried the old
warrior with a roar, lurching to his ancient feet. "Silence! Since you
have been impudent enough to insist, I shall tell you. I shall tell you
what fearsome really is."
All sat silent now, gazing
with respect at the ancient one.
"When I was young as you are
now, I had a friend. Kars was his name. His Father had been a warrior
in the first war with Humans. His Father had died in that war on
Anaxar, as had many. But, Kars knew the name of the Human that had
killed his Father. He had a name, and he nurtured that name like a
malignant thing through many years and many cruises together.
Lieutenant Jerold LaSaille. Yes, I remember the name. I heard it often.
"We were on cruise, shortly
after the First Kittomer Accords. Klingons were welcome for the first
time on Starfleet worlds. We toured the city at the foot of Starbase 24
as it was known then. Kars, Ger'Mok, and myself. As we swaggered down
the street we passed a group of Starfleet in their soft uniforms. I
heard the fateful name spoken by one of them. 'Admiral LaSaille' she
said to an older Human. Kars stood like you had run the main power bus
of a war cruiser through him. 'Wait' I cautioned. 'Humans have only so
many names'. Kars was unhearing. He turned toward the Humans, who by
now were watching us. 'Are you Jerold LaSaille.' Kars demanded of the
older man. 'Yes" he replied. Kars was working himself up. 'Were you a
Lieutenant on Anaxar?' 'Yes.' said the Human, as calmly as you please.
'You killed my Father'. said Kars. He was in a full rage by now. The
Human stood impassive. Kars drew his knife and spat out the words of
challenge. 'I challan... BOOM!" Yelled the old one, the young warriors
started back slightly. "The old human had a slug pistol in his hand
quicker than we could see. Kars was on the ground.
"It was only later I recalled
this to any detail. Kars fell as if someone had jerked him down with a
rope from behind. He fell heavily he did not move or cry out. A small
hole oozed blood from between his eyes. Bits of his head spattered the
street and his blood pooled beneath his shattered head. We turned
toward the Human named LaSaille. His fellow Humans looked as shocked as
did we."
One of the young men leaned
forward. "And then you killed him."
The old man fell heavily back
into his chair. "No. The Human held the slug pistol at arm's length. I
moved slightly, and the gun moved to cover me. I looked into the eyes
of my foe... and saw nothing. NOTHING!! He would as soon have killed me
as taken his next breath. My honor, my skill, were meaningless to him.
If my movements displeased him at all, I would die, and my foe, did,
not, care.
He put the gun away. 'Pick up
the trash, and leave.' He said. As calmly as you ask for more blood
wine. He turned back to the officers he was with, and we were
dismissed. Ger'Mok and I grabbed Kars' body and fled."
"Grandfather, it is hardly a
tale of honor. Why was this frightening?"
"Must I spell it out?"
grumped the old man. "Yes, yes I must, because you are young. Well you
have learned the ways of the warrior and well you understand the way of
honor, and the relationship between you and your foe." The young men
all nodded. "Even Humans understand this, even if most of them could
not articulate it." Again the nods. "This man did not fight. He cut
Kars down before he could get the challenge out of his mouth. He
measured Ger'Mok and myself and dismissed us. To find a man that did
not fight. One who killed or did not kill, without consideration of his
foe. To find a reasoning being that refused the most basic of
relationships, that of foe to foe. That was frightening beyond any
creature I have done battle with."
The young warriors were
quiet. At last Mogtak broke the silence. "In all due respect Sire, this
man is long dead."
MogQua leaned forward, his
voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, that he might well be. As you sit
here full of blood wine and your own potential for glory, an ancient
tale does not sink it. He is out there, him, and others like him. Old
Human warriors get this way I am told. They grow bitter and tired, but
no less deadly. This LaSaille is not unique. Some night, some sober
night when perhaps everything has not gone your way this man will steal
into your courage, thieve into you hearts. He will sink to the bottom
of your being, and you will know fear. Remember this: You never know
where, and when, you will cross his path."
The Warrior's Tale -- Garry Stahl, October 2004
In this case it was
controversy. Never has anything I have written engendered so much
comment, both for and against. I wanted a Klingon point of view to
Jerry. I got it.
Title Navigation
"Admiral
LaSaille, I understand that you do have a right to defend yourself, but
the manner of your defense...how does one say this...it was brutal."
LaSaille locked eyes with
Admiral Cendara. "Have you ever been stuck with one of those knives?"
"No, I can't say I have."
"It isn't pleasant. I don't
intend to have a repeat of the incident."
"Why don't you carry a phaser
like everyone else man?" Added Admiral Yanyos of Military Command.
"I do."
"Why didn't you use it? that
would have saved a world of trouble."
"Trouble from whom? The
Klingons?"
Cendara broke back in. "No,
the only complaint I have gotten from the Klingons was your parting
comment about trash. They claim that it was and I quote 'not an
honorable tribute to a fallen foe'."
Jerry shrugged. "They would
be right, it wasn't the most diplomatic thing to say. I do regret it."
Cendara was on his feet. "Why
didn't you just stun him, they we would have nothing to regret!"
"Admiral Cendara, how well do
you understand Klingons?"
"I've met a few."
LaSaille leaned into his
point. "I mean understand them, how they think, how they act, why they
act as they act?"
Cendara sat down. "No one in
the Federation knows them that well."
"There is one person."
"Who?"
"Myself."
"When did you spend time
among Klingons?"
"How soon we forget. I spend
two years slinking around in the rain and mud of Anaxar studying
Klingons."
"What's your point?"
"Stunning him would only have
made it worse. I would have dishonored him among his fellows. He would,
at that point, do anything to find me and kill me. The reason the
Klingons have not complained about my shooting him down in the street,
is they would have done the same thing. OK, they likely would have
fought him blade to blade. I declined to fight. He didn't do his
homework."
Cendara looked at LaSaille
with horror. "You don't even understand this, do you? Your actions are
a public relations nightmare. We cannot have the head of Galaxy
Exploration Command, a full Admiral in Starfleet shooting people in the
street like some 20th century thug!"
"Far better the Admiral take
a knife in the gut, or have a Klingon gunning for his hide the rest of
his life?"
"That isn't what I mean."
"It's exactly what you mean
even if you don't have the guts to say it. You would prefer a Galaxy
where that sort of thing didn't happen. A Galaxy where nothing and no
one ever rocks the Public Relations boat. I would prefer a Galaxy where
I could eschew violence as well, but it isn't happening. As for PR, I
have some suggestions that are likely to be physically impossible."
"We have to consider the
reputation of Starfleet."
"Individuals can take it up
the ass if that helps PR. Better an heroic funeral than a dead punk."
"I'm not wishing anyone dead.
Good grief man, we do have to consider how the public views us."
Yanyos interjected. "We
cannot allow this incident to go without some manner of action Admiral
LaSaille, for the good of the fleet."
LaSaille addressed the
Advocate General, who had remained silent to this point. "Has any law
been broken?"
She consulted her PADD. "No,
to the best of my knowledge no laws have been broken."
"Has any Starfleet regulation
been broken?"
"No, there are no regulations
about flag officers carrying personal weapons, or defending themselves."
"Has there been a diplomatic
complaint about the shooting?"
"No."
Jerry looked the other
members of the joint chiefs over. "But 'something must be done', and
that solely for the PR. 'For the good of the Fleet'." His face
hardened. "There was a time, when the actions of this body were
directed to the honest accomplishment of the mission in our charter.
There was a time that any officer that did right and good could expect
that his actions, no matter how unpopular, would be defended."
Cendara sat with his hands
spread firmly on the desk. "We must consider the good of the service.
Times are changing, Starfleet must keep up."
LaSaille looked right at him,
and spoke softly. "There was a time we lead, not followed. There was a
time when such nonsense as 'the greater good' was not tolerated in this
room. There was a time I was proud to be a part of Fleet. I have served
Starfleet for 61 years. I have done good in that time. But I have no
more patience for the mealy mouthed organization that flinches with
every change in the wind of almighty public opinion that Starfleet has
become." Jerry opened his jacket and shrugged it off. His shoulder
holster and the grip of the darkly blued Colt were exposed to everyone.
He tossed the coat down in front of Admiral Cendara. "I'm through with
the lot of you, as of right now. I have other things to do with my
time."
Old and New -- Garry Stahl, January 2005
"...to everything there
is a season, and time for every purpose under Heaven". All actions
have consequences. Here we see the consequences of the events in A
Warrior's Tale. Jerold Ryan LaSaille moves into the era beyond his
time in Starfleet.
Title Navigation
Summertime,
Savanna sizzled on a perfect day. El Nanth was at zenith, and you could
all but hear the UV hit the ground.
Aleilan was out playing among
the herd. Jerry brushed his hair, nearly white from the sun, back from
his face. Time to pop down for a haircut. Might as well fire up the old
hovercar and take a run into town.
The
garage was a cavern of cool compared to the sun outside. Jerry ran a
through preflight on the old Sabb. It didn't get out very often.
Preflight finished he buckled
in and opened the garage door. As he hovered out the roof turned a near
black as it came out under the open sky. He flipped the approach radar
on, and put on the headphones with the mike around by his mouth.
"Jerry to Landing traffic
control, how is the approach at 500?"
"Morning Jerry, you are clear
at 500, enjoy your drive."
Roger that Landing. Approach
at 500 is clear into town."
Jerry ran the car up to 500
meters, eased the throttle forward to Mach 2 for the drive into Landing
City.
Twenty
minutes latter he settled the car down to ground hover mode and eased
into the town proper. There wasn't anyone's vehicle in front of Floyd's
barbershop, but a small herd of Ane was gathered in and about. When he
entered he noted that several of the locals were present as well. An
Ane was getting a mane trim at the moment. It was someone he knew.
"Treban, when did you decide
on the cultured look?"
**Today, and I am following
through on the decision.**
"It suits you."
**Why thank you.**
Jerry looked at at the small
crowd. "Who's next?"
"You are." Said Jila. "We're
just hanging loose."
Nuru looked up from the filmy
he was reading. "When are you rolling the Kongo out?"
Jerry smiled. "Next week. Oh
she looks good. All finished except for a very through inspection."
"That's something I don't
think anyone wants to miss. It's going on three years now?"
Jerry sat. "Five. It took me
two years to get her bought and moved to El Nanth."
Jila nodded. "Yea, she looked
a sight coming in. Starfleet used her up good."
"That is what starships are
for."
"What are you going to do
with her?"
Jerry scratched his chin. "I
don't have that part thought out truth be told." **It is always best to
tell the truth.** Interjected Treban.
"A statement of the obvious.
She isn't the ship the Desiderata is, not as fast, not as roomy. She is
a bit of history at this point."
"What about starship rides?"
Asked Nuru.
"Starship rides?"
"Yea, let people get a feel
for what a starship is like. So many museum ships are locked down and
safed to the point they might as well be mock-ups. Why not let people
feel the real thing, underway."
"I'll have to consider that
Nuru. I don't want to play tour guide to an endless parade of tourists,
but the idea does have a certain appeal."
"It would do these kids good
to learn what went before."
A light came into Jerry's
eyes. "Yes, it would."
Nuru looked at him. "You're
not thinking what I'm thinking?"
"No, I don't think so. Taking
school kids out would be a good thing and I will be doing that, but
taking Starfleet kids out would be good as well. They need exposure to
something outside the latest thing. A chance to absorb an older
Starfleet culture."
"Always the subversive."
"Damn straight Nuru, Damn
straight." Jerry grinned.
"Next?" Called the Barber.
Now That You Have It... -- Garry Stahl, March 2005
The question asked of the
dog that finally caught the car.
Title Navigation
The
Klingon warrior approached the Human with caution. He kept his drink
firmly in front of him. He would have preferred a disruptor, a ship's
disruptor. A public place was no assurance with this Human. He stopped
a few feet from the Human's table.
"Are you Jerold Ryan
LaSaille?"
"I am."
"I am Karass, son of Karnor,
House of m'Thos I have questions I would have answered."
Jerry looked at the Klingon
doing his best to be calm. "Sit, ask your questions."
Karass sat and placed his
drink on the table. He placed his hands flat on the table as well.
"Twenty five years ago you shot my Uncle at Starbase 24."
Jerry's face drooped a bit.
"Yes, I shot a Klingon."
"Why did you dishonor him
with your words?"
Weariness stole over Jerry's
face. "I was not a Klingon, and at that time, I was barely a Human."
"I do not understand. I want
to understand."
"I don't know if I can
explain it."
"Will you try?"
"This understanding matters
to you?"
"Yes. I want to know what
differences drove you to say these things. You are not a Klingon. Your
death will not unsay the words that have been said. Only your words can
accomplish that."
Jerry nodded. "I will try to
explain. twenty five years ago I was suffering the long term effects of
a most rare malady, longevity. I have spent the last ten years trying
to get a grip on that."
Karass furrowed his brow.
"How is living long a disease?"
"It depends on how long you
live Karass. I am nearly 400 years old. Humans are not evolved to live
400 years. My mind was slipping. I was forgetting the when of things, I
had started to look on shorter lived people, as being less people
because of it. Your Uncle, at that moment meant less than nothing to
me, and I said words that should not have been said. I have since
regretted them deeply."
"Your words are strange. But
I sense truth in them. How comes a Human to live so many years?"
"You find that out Karass,
and then tell me. I don't know. I simply fail to die, I fail to age. No
one can explain me, least of all me."
"You tell me that you regret,
what have you done to repent your actions?"
"I have sought help for the
problems of my mind. It was seek help or descend into madness. I had no
desire to live a mad man."
"Have they worked?"
"I am in public. It is only
recently I have allowed myself back into public. What token do you wish
to take from this Karass?"
"I do not know."
Jerry nodded and spoke in
Klingon. /"Your Uncle was a proud warrior. He was prepared to avenge
the death of his Father, your Grandfather. His only error was in
misjudging an old wolf that had seen too many fights. I dishonored his
efforts with my words. Can I restore that with new words?/"
"/You are Human, I will
accept your words. I have one further question./"
"/Ask./"
"/How did my grandfather
die?/"
"/He died performing his
duty. It was war, he was my foe. I thought I had killed him cleanly.
Klingons are a tough people./"
Karass rose from the table.
"I leave with a lighter heart than I came with." He turned and left.
Jerry sat at the table for a
long time.
Reasons -- Garry Stahl, Febuary 2005
Title Navigation
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The Above is a work of fiction. All characters are
fictional, any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.
Copyright Garry Stahl: 2004-2006. All rights reserved,
re-print only with permission.
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