What an extraordinary time we're living in. The one thing I do know about those future documentaries is this: It will be impossible to convey the depth and breadth of this crisis, impossible to show all its destruction and its effects, impossible to show the everyday heroism that we're seeing in hospitals around the world.
When the histories really are written about this time, they'll only capture a tiny bit of it. I hope the historians do watch those PSAs, though. Because they really do capture the now. And the difficulty we all have remembering that what we're doing is important.
Even if we're just sitting on our butts. Every day. Waiting for the future to arrive.
****
The best news for the new year is that Ring of Fire Press is now publishing a book a week, so we have lots of stuff to tell you about:
The Portals of Spring
Nathan Dodge
Davin Blackthorn, the scion of a powerful family of the Northern Republic, has discovered a great potential to harness God’s Power, a capability that supposedly only priests can possess. So he travels to the land of the Chanche, to ask for their help in controlling his new-found ability. But in Akzo, the “city of cities” of the Chanche, he is advised that only Ques, a recluse living high in the mountains, can train him. Davin undertakes a harrowing journey, beset by enemies, to reach Ques. He is prepared to undergo training for as long as it takes to master the Power in order to defeat the deadly Elitos, who threaten both the Chanche and his native land in the plains. There is just one problem: The training will be every bit as dangerous as the Power itself.
From the Ashes of a Dead World
Shane Gries
Pavel Marino commands one of the last remaining squadrons in the final days of an unwinnable interstellar conflict. He must now spirit his government’s leadership across the stars to a forgotten planet whose inhabitants were believed destroyed in an ancient war. There, far from the reaches of a ruthless foe, they can regroup their forces in order to fight again.
But his ships were never designed to travel such a distance. Along the way many difficult decisions are made so that a few can survive. And when they finally reach their anticipated refuge, they discover that the planet is already inhabited by billions of humans with industrial-level technology, driving cars with internal combustion engines, flying airplanes with propellers, and waging a brutal world war.
Desperate, and with nowhere else to go, the weary space-farers make contact with their primitive cousins. They must now make a fateful decision: Should they strive for peaceful coexistence or domination?
Treadwell
A Novel of Alaska Territory
Stoney Compton
In 1915, seasoned Pinkerton investigator August Lepke is sent to Alaska Territory to “box up” captured serial killer Edward Krause, a job that should be routine. But once in Juneau he encounters complications, starting with suffragette Florence Malone and her shady, politically powerful father, Jack. The Tlingit policeman, George Mak-we, is nothing like the Red Indians Lepke had expected, not to mention the college-educated Filipino grocery clerk, Begay Santo. And how do the newly widowed flirtatious Austrian noblewoman Amanda Ganbor and the English journalist Arnold Williams fit into the picture?
There is more going on than August had supposed. To start with, numerous attempts on his life make clear that Krause can reach far beyond the bars of his cell in the federal courthouse. The belligerent European immigrant miners have short fuses—so do their dynamite charges—and seem to have at least one saboteur among them.
The mines of the Juneau Gold Belt help fill U.S. coffers and the vast Treadwell Complex dominates the region in production and cutting-edge engineering. Its loss could jeopardize the United States’ ability to enter the Great War enveloping Europe.
Gold mines can be murdered as well as men.
Designed To Fail
Virginia DeMarce
Frederik of Denmark, the son of King Christian IV, is the new governor of the new province of Westphalia, and harbors the dark suspicion that the Swedes who now dominate central Europe deliberately designed the province so that he would not succeed in his assignment, thus undermining his father’s position.
Problems are everywhere! Religious fragmentation, cities demanding imperial status, jurisdictional disputes among the nobility and between the nobility and the common folk—there’s no end to it.
And then matters get still more complicated. Annalise Richter, a student at the famous Abbey of Quedlinburg, wants Frederik to correct an injustice. Her mentor, the Abbess of Quedlinburg, is being prevented from running for a seat in the House of Commons because she is, well, not a commoner.
Surely Frederik can do something to fix this wrong!
The prince is of two minds. On the one hand—being very much his father’s son—he has developed a great passion for the marvelous young woman. He is determined to marry her. On the other hand . . .
She’s Catholic. A bit of a problem, that, for a Lutheran prince.
But there’s worse. She’s also the younger sister of Gretchen Richter.
Yes, that Gretchen Richter.
The Dragon's Apprentice
David Carrico
Evann, having survived meeting dragons and becoming a wizard, is in a tough situation. He has no idea how to handle the spells he’s learned. So he’s come to the city of Morshton to find a wizard to teach him. He’s taken on by Quinton, reputed to be the best wizard in the city, who tells Evann he’s in much deeper trouble than he realizes. He’s not supposed to have these spells at all. They could burn his mind out.
Meanwhile, Evann’s friend Rufous, the new Solon of the dragons, finds himself on the verge of a war with the goblins, who have accused a dragon of stealing some of their magic weapons. In the course of his search for the supposedly guilty dragon, he learns some of the history involved and begins to suspect there’s more going on than the goblins had told him.
Evann’s training progresses, despite some frightening episodes, as does Rufous’ search. But when the search finally uncovers the lair of the mysterious dragon, Rufous finds he has come into a trap. Meanwhile, Evann witnesses a triple murder which seems to have been committed by a goblin—and a spell marker painted on a wall in the victims’ blood.
The fate of the dragon and his apprentice are welded together again. They’ll need each other just to survive, much less triumph against their enemies.
WARSPELL: SPACE RACE
GORG HUFF AND PAULA GOODLETT
RELEASE DATE: DECEMBER 31, 2020
When the Merge happened, the world as people knew it and the world of the WarSpell role playing game got completely tangled up. That opened millions of fantasy worlds to explore, sure—but it didn’t do anything for space exploration. There was no spell to take someone to the Moon or Mars in the rule books. And to make things worse, early attempts showed that magic worked differently in space than on the surface of the earth.
Disastrously different, as a rule.
Still, if someone can figure out how to do it right, the magic of WarSpell has the potential to change space exploration from something only governments and billionaires can do to something that the rest of the human race can take a crack at. Not to mention the possible fortunes to be made in extraterrestrial magic and technology
But even with WarSpell magic, getting into space isn’t going to be cheap—and it’s not safe at all by fussbudget NASA standards. There are roadblocks in the way. Some put there by nature, some by the supernatural, some by good intentions, and others out of spite and greed.
So if the hardscrabble, by-their-bootstraps outfits are going to have any chance to win the orbit prize, they’re going to have to risk losing their lives along with their shirts. Or blouses and bras.
TOOLS OF THE TRADE
WAYLAND SMITH
RELEASE DATE: JANUARY 6, 2021
When Mike Jolson loses his wife to a drunk driver, he’s devastated by her loss. When the driver gets away with it, his rage attract
s the attention of powerful mystical beings. He makes a deal with forces he doesn’t fully comprehend, and, in exchange for his revenge, becomes their servant in the mortal world.
Mike can’t remember what happens while he does their bidding, and loses chunks of time, forcing him to work alone in his home rehabbing business. Matters come to a head when strange things begin to happen in his “normal” life and his self-imposed isolation is challenged by new friends. Can he figure out what he’s agreed to do, and for who, before what he doesn’t know not only hurts him, but also spills over onto the new people in his life?
THE GRANTVILLE INQUISITOR
BRADLEY H SINOR AND TRACY S MORRIS
RELEASE DATE: JANUARY 14, 2021
There are many stories in the naked city of Grantville. Did Wallenstein come to Grantville secretly? Is Cardinal Richelieu still alive? How did Bigfoot get trapped in the Ring of Fire? Does Cyrano de Bergerac really have a huge schnozz? Denis and Betsy, intrepid reporters, bring all that is hidden and secret to light in the pages of The Grantville Inquisitor.
And don’t forget the January Open House on January 9th. We’ll be happy to see you!
This Issue’s Cover- 93
Cassini at the Plate, Signed
This issue's cover is inspired by Robert E. Waters' wonderful story, Cassini at the Plate.
In an imagined future Cassini actually becomes a pro baseball player in the NTL's major leagues to be.
"This may be illegal, Jack—and I'm damn sure it's immoral and ill-advised." Kevin Gallo scowled at the large screen on the wall of Jack Kensington's laboratory. The image being displayed was a depiction of the gene splicing Jack proposed to do.
"Illegal? That gets complicated, especially when you've got patents covering your ass—which I do. As for immoral, much less ill-advised . . ."
Kensington shrugged. "One person's sin is another's calling, as they say."
"As who says?"
Kensington waved his hand as if swatting away an insect. "Somebody must have. What's your problem, anyway, Kevin? You're the one who's always saying that everyone should have the right to choose their sexual orientation, aren't you?"
"Yeah, but—"
"But what?" The geneticist jabbed a finger at the screen. "Once this becomes standard procedure, everybody will be born a hermaphrodite."
Gallo winced. "Can you just once try not to be offensive? The preferred term is ‘intersex,' not ‘hermaphrodite.' "
"Whatever term you use, the problem is solved."
"Only if everybody agrees—and good luck getting evangelists on board."
"Well . . . I was thinking of just adding it to the water supply. You know, like fluoride. It's a matter of public health, after all, if you look at it the right way."
"WHAT?"
****
"Congratulations, stupe. How are you enjoying your stay in prison? It's been what—a year and a half now?"
"Bit less," said Kensington. "How are things out there?"
"Completely screwed up since you miscalculated your idiot scheme. Now every newborn has no sex organs at all. ‘A matter of choice,' you said. What the hell kind of choice is that?"
"Well . . . That's a sort of choice. Null type, they call it. And I've been corresponding with a surgeon. He thinks we could probably—"
****
What has gone before . . .
In "On the Shoals of Space-Time" (Grantville Gazette 91, September, 2020), the starship Greater Good, after a near-catastrophic accident, limps at sub-light velocity to a nearby solar system. Its few survivors (four crew, all Doltan) and three passengers (one Doltan, two Vol'taki) are:
—LARROK, the lone engineer, reluctantly replacing the ship's deceased captain.
—BOLBON, navigator and computer/math expert.
—TELJOD, ship's cook.
—VIRTOF, personal trainer.
—WANDUK, passenger; retired Doltan historian; student of archived human broadcasts.
—MOR'B'FREY, passenger; Vol'taki musician returning home from a worlds tour.
—EN'TOFRI, passenger; Vol'taki holo sculptor returning home from a worlds tour.
They find shelter and much-needed supplies at an automated covert monitoring station. The interstellar community has yet to reveal itself to Earth, but the survivors convince themselves humans will qualify for contact once recent broadcasts in the station AI's archive reach distant authorities. Absent help from a barely spacefaring humanity, the survivors' bleak prospect is years living—and for most, dying of old age—awaiting rescue on that remote iceball. . . .
In "Marooned in Space-Time" (Grantville Gazette 92, November, 2020), Interplanetary Mining Company (IPMCo) spaceship Andrew Carnegie ("Andy") launches on a mining mission to a precious-metals, near-Earth asteroid ("Nugget") even as huge news breaks. Aliens stranded in the Kuiper Belt have radioed: they're coming to Earth orbit for help.
Well before the aliens can arrive, Andy will be long gone. Andy's crew:
—MIA CHIANG, pilot and mission commander.
—LIAM PETERSON, computer engineer and robot wrangler.
—ELIJAH ("BUD") FLOWERS, planetary geologist.
—CARLOTTA HERNANDEZ, metallurgical engineer.
When the crippled starship suffers a second breakdown en route to Earth, only Andy can get critical supplies to the aliens before they die. And then, only by ending up stranded together in the Asteroid Belt.
****
Adrift in Space-Time
Deep within a cocoon of blankets, Larrok drifted awake. Drifted, as well, above the . . . ground? Floor? Deck? Only the faintest of glows, digits of a dimmed clock display, relieved otherwise total darkness.
Deck, she concluded, unsure why she (thought she) knew this. Unsure, also, why she floated. A loop of tether kept the blankets around her and her close to the deck. Shapeless silhouettes, deeper darkness within the overall murk, suggested she was not alone here.
She was struggling with the meaning of here (also: who the suspected others might be, why her breath, ethereal, hung before her, why fans droned, and what had awakened her) when a burst of silent vibrations intruded. She vaguely . . . sensed? Remembered? Imagined? . . . earlier such disturbances dragging her from an uneasy slumber. The tremors seemed to come from inside a uniform pocket. An alarm of some kind?
Reminding her to do . . . what?
With a shudder, she came alert. A forelimb groping within blankets located a computer and dismissed its silent alarm. The time had come for an inspection—but what to inspect, and why, remained elusive.
Across the room, someone gave off an abrupt snore. He(?) and five others rhythmically emitted faint white clouds. All still breathing, then. Struggling free of cocoon and tether, an unwelcome doubt intruded: for how much longer?
A limb in a sticky slipper, untangled at last, anchored her to the deck. Then a second limb. The extraction process became easier. But only a bit.
So tired. . . .
Unsure why, only that she must, Larrok shook herself more fully awake. Awake enough to recognize she was shivering with cold. Exhausted by constant shivering. Breathing rapidly. Hearts racing. Confused from . . .
Hypoxia! That was it! It was time to inspect life support. Or, it seemed, past time.
Only, was it that simple? Was anything, anymore? As from a great distance, her task, and its many steps, came to mind. Every step, she hoped. Getting it wrong could get her killed. And as the last engineer aboard, her death would get everyone killed.
All but overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all, wanting only to huddle in her blankets and sleep, she scanned the dark room until, along one bulkhead, she saw tall cabinets glimmering in the reflected light of the clock. Inside them she would find . . .
Vacuum suits.
****
A jolt of pure oxygen from a helmet delivered much-needed clarity.
Scrubbing carbon dioxide from the air took energy. Electrolyzing water to replenish oxygen—even the best recycling incurred slow losses—to
ok energy, too. So had she permitted their oxygen level to ebb too low? Had life-support systems, long overdue for overhaul, further degraded? In some even more frigid region of the ship, had a critical circuit malfunctioned, conduit burst, valve frozen, pump blown a gasket? Or had another problem, something she had yet to imagine, struck?
The scary truth? Absent a bow-to-stern inspection, the problem could be any of those. She had to review log files. Run diagnostics. Confirm calibrations of sensors. Test for leaks . . ..
The oxygen jolt had also delivered sufficient clarity to know: she dare not venture unaccompanied from this derelict's last pressurized deck. Little more than half the deck, at that.
Larrok decided next on whom to disturb. Someone reliably clearheaded, because she was feeling none too competent. "Teljod," she chittered softly. He did not respond. Not to his name. Not to a nudge. Not to a firm poke. A rough shake—difficult to administer because he remained afloat and swaddled in blankets—got a reaction.
"Let me sleep," he grumbled.
"Sorry," she said. "I need your help."
The old cook opened his eyes. "Yes, Captain."
It was a struggle, but they got into vacuum gear. They checked each other. Only when both were ready did she rouse Bolbon. "I'm sorry to bother you, but someone should be on the bridge, keeping tabs on us."
Because even watching out for one another, she and Teljod could have some momentary lapse in attention.
Bolbon, finally alert and shuffled onto the bridge, belted himself in at the comm console. Larrok and Teljod, with helmets locked in place, clomped on magnetized boots toward a stairwell leading aft. With adequate oxygen, suit heater set high, her surroundings revealed in the bright beams cast by helmet headlamps, Larrok felt better—which remained a far cry from well. Apart from a brief sojourn at the monitoring station, she had lived in microgravity for more than a year. Weightless she might be, but with every step, the inertial mass of suit and bulky oxygen tanks made atrophied muscles scream.
Grantville Gazette Volume 93 Page 15