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Halloween Fantasy (part 34)

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 A glance at the crowd showed Bodil that all attention seemed to be directed to the left and down the avenue of aircraft, whoever they belonged to, towards the way she and Victor had just come from. Bodil followed their gaze, looking vaguely upwards. She expected to see, something. Vertibirds? She had seen huge ones that could carry many tons of cargo.

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Halloween fantasy (part 33)

 

And that pretty much killed the conversation. The potential for an embarrassing silence was dispelled when Ellie’s notebook began to beep for attention. While the head of Troy security attended to business Bodil took the opportunity to look around.

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Halloween Fantasy (part 32)

 

Ellie watched the car approaching. Though her sunglasses hid her eyes, her tightly pursed lips went a long way in expressing the feeling that she was not full of the joy and happiness being demonstrated in the crowded bleachers behind her.

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Halloween Fantasy (part 31)

 

By the time she reached the comfortable warmth and light of the outside she had pretty much regained her composure and by the time she slid into the passenger seat the panic was barely discernable in her voice.

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Halloween Fantasy (part 30)

 

Two men wearing dark blue overalls stepped out of a small, temporary looking single story structure and came to a halt about five metres away. They stood in that military looking way with their feet apart and hands behind their backs that stressed the ‘don’t mess with us’ image the pose was designed to project.

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Halloween Fantasy (part 26) 700ish years ago

((Well, not really a problem, an omission. Well, not even that. I just forgot to post it. At least i think i did because I've just looked through my journal posts and I can't find it. Anyway, do you remember when I did that short series of posts about Joe in space and the weird aliens and pervy senator? Well I missed a post that went between:

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Monday Morning (Let's call it 10 AM)

Tukiko took a deep breath and with two hands, placed the manila folder she had been carrying flat on Joe's desk.

"I'm not sending anyone back to the... I mean home. They're all fine." She opened the folder and read from it. "Two cases of acute viral rhinopharyngitis. Several none work related abrasions..."

Joe sat up.

"Acute viral whatnow?"

"A cold Joe. Two of the children have a cold."

"Well why didn't you say that in the first place instead of getting all 'Lah-di-dah' doctor on me?"

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Monday Morning (Getting on for 10 o'clock)

It had taken a while, but Joe's ears were now picking up the familiar sounds of ammunition, and therefore chips, being made once again. One by one even the four urchins of the apocalypse had seepishly slunk back into the office and, under Joe's hard stare, got back on with their work. Lethal head lice having beeen proved non-existant thanks to the orphanage's liberal use of a particularly pungent but effective shampoo. Peace, then, had returned to the ammunition factory.

Well, for a few minutes anyway.

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Monday Morning (About the same time)

Joe tapped the broken pencil on the desk a few times before getting to his feet and walking around the desk to the door. On the other side of the half glazed door was a plank balcony, with stairs at one end and the only unbarred window at the other. The balcony allowed Joe to look down onto the shop floor and his regular appearances through the day helped to keep up production. He stretched his arms along the bannister rail and took in the scene below.

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Monday Morning 9:15 AM (ish)

From inside his office Joe stopped hearing the normal low noise of a smoothly running ammunition production line. He looked up from his desk. The glance he directed at the four little orphans in the corner ensured that they didn't add to the sudden drop in productivity as four unkempt heads immediately assumed an air of increased concentration on their tasks.

Joe's attention was turned to the half glazed door as footseps outside signaled the hurried approach of some urchin or other, hopefully with news of why he was no longer making money.

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Monday morning 7.30 AM

Joe tried to count heads while the crush of orphans forced and fought their way through the door into the ammunition factory. The older ones won of course. Bigger, stronger, and in most cases, meaner. But that was ok because it made it easier for Joe to spot the four faces he was looking for.

"Oi! Finny, One Tooth, Casper and Worms."

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Halloween Fantasy (part 29) 700ish years ago. Last bit.

The senator stared, blank faced, for a few seconds at the gaudy flyer then, with pointed deliberacy, pressed a point on his desktop and the image of Joe Spivey’s flyer, along with the grinning buffoon face of Kort Chorfaleo joined those of the two doctors in electronic limbo. The three images might still be on their faster than light journey through sub-space but they no longer took up the senator’s time, and that was the important thing. 

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Halloween Fantasy (part 28) 700ish years ago

Kort Chorfaleo mopped his brow with a large purple handkerchief. He was a big man, in a tight suit, under hot lights facing a man who, quite frankly, scared the hrakha out of him. The prevailing thought in his mind just now was ‘stick to the report, don’t get drawn’. 

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Halloween Fantasy (part 27) 700ish years ago

((Part 26 was missed but posted later.

It was thirty days later and many light years away. In one of the more profitable sectors of Imperial space, and Senator Geesh was hoping to get the day’s business out of the way before lunch. 

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Halloween Fantasy (part 25) 700ish years ago

In the darkness, silent spurts of shimmering blue-white flame erupted like tiny random geysers. Each fiery triangle lasting for less than a second of bright, purposeful life. Their brief existence coincidentally serving to illuminate enough patches of the dark blue hull to determine the half disc shape and size of the thirty metre wide space ship as it manoeuvred incrementally closer to the still invisible derelict somewhere in front of and below them.

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Safety Inspection Day

The noise slowly fades up into a quiet hubub and we find ourselves in the smokey interior of The Tap. It is evening, but not so late that alcohol fueled arguments have yet led to spilled blood or that errent spouses are starting work on their excuses for being late home. But it is late enough that the smell of food has pretty much given way to the smell of hops and cheap tobacco.

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Halloween Fantasy (Part 24)

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The Alps began to rise around them. Before long you had to actually crane your neck and look up to see the skyline on either side of the road. Even looking ahead the snow speckled mountains seemed to be growing up out of the ground as they got nearer. But long before Bodil had to raise her gaze to see the endless azure still ahead they came to the town of Niederurnen, filling the now very narrow gap between the limestone walls of the pass. 

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Halloween Fantasy (Part 23)

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The professional in her, the intellectual, wanted to call Victor out on his bold assertion. But forcing an argument on a man she was hoping to get closer to was not exactly going to be a winning strategy.


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Halloween Fantasy (Part 22)

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Bodil relaxed… a little. Well, perhaps more than a little. It was a nice day. The countryside was beautiful, despite the lurking Auto-Cults. The car was air conditioned. Victor was charming, and he smelled nice. So, Bodil didn’t let little things bother her. Like that she was being driven to a place she didn’t know, to be among people she didn’t know to be a witness to something she knew nothing about.

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Halloween Fantasy (Part 21)

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((I at last found a picture that does justice to my concept of the Troy family headquarters seven hundred years after the end of the Clone War)) Cool

 

 

 

Eggy House

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Halloween Fantasy (Part 20)

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The following morning there was a note with breakfast.

Dear Professor Hill.

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Halloween Fantasy (Part 19)

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Bodil’s eyelids drifted slowly upwards, the right eyelid seeming to require all the effort her barely conscious brain could muster. Then her priorities changed and the right eyelid remained at half-mast while the brain’s resources were channeled towards reading the glowing blue numerals on her bedside clock. ’03:01’ Its task done, Bodil’s brain was left to wonder why it always had to be three in the morning.

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Halloween Fantasy (part 18)

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Professor Hill’s previous search had resulted in her sitting on the dusty floor of the archive in the middle of a circle of neat piles of paper. The search on Joe Spivey hadn’t resulted in a ‘neat’ anything and some of what she was reading was downright creepy. 

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Halloween fantasy (Part 17)

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Ellie pulled off the thin latex gloves with a casual elegance born from long practice. She rolled them into a neat ball and tossed them into the wire waste basket next to the desk where she sitting. Her steel grey eyes stared at the crushed but recognisable gold and bejewelled automaton, now innocently imobile on the desktop, while the pencil thin line of her mouth betrayed a gamut of negative emotions.

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Halloween Fantasy (Part 16)

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It was hungry. The hunger never went away, not entirely. The passage from day to night was no longer cognate with the abstract label called a ‘day’. Such mental constructs were well beyond its pulped and botched brain functions. But it knew that there had been ‘time’ since its last meal and it new that this time was bigger than some of the other times it had experienced. It was hungry. 

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Just a Job (parts 1 through 5 reprised and part 6, finally)

Joe shifted down to a safer gear for the rough dirt track. But still the car bounced and lurched along in a cloud of brown dust and the screech of protesting shock absorbers.

"Ow!. Shit!" He grimaced and wondered if his spine was going to survive the journey. He was getting too old for this.

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Halloween Fantasy (part 15)

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Archaeologists tend to love digging holes and getting their knees and fingers dirty. Perhaps it’s a throwback to early childhood and playing around in the sand pit. Archaeologists tend not to love sitting in libraries at a desk piled high with books or at a computer screen where access to social media has been blocked by some university admin.

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Halloween Fantasy (part 14)

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Inside the museum it was pleasantly cool but there was something different from yesterday. A strange smell that grew stronger as Bodil and Victor wound their way through the exhibit stands to the doors that led to the conservation area beyond. It took Bodil a few seconds to recognise the odour before memories of sun-soaked parties on the golden beaches above the submerged ancient city of Rio de Janeiro brought it back to her in a wave of hedonistic nostalgia. Seaweed. Old, rotting seaweed.

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Halloween Fantasy (part 13)

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 Bodil was propped up in bed enjoying yet another wonderful breakfast. It had been served by the same young man from yesterday and, between mouthfuls of perfectly cooked bacon and sips of rich-people coffee, she watched him as he pottered around the suite refreshing flowers and tying back the drapes and doing the half dozen or so other little jobs created just by the professor occupying the room. Smalltalk had revealed that the boy’s name was Arno, which apparently means ‘eagle’.

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I Got Those Forced Adoption Blues

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Joe was sitting in a quiet corner of his favourite watering hole when the door opened and Tukiko Troy stepped across the threshold. Joe looked up from his suds. Tuki appeared a tad annoyed about something and possesed of a certain Hyle-like determination in her demeanor that made Joe think that genetic traits might, in fact, be contageous after all. Sighing, Joe put the glass back down on the wet, mug-ringed tabletop as Tuki marched across the sawdust strewn floor towards his little haven. "Here we go." He muttered under his breath.

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