#Tales of The Thomas Bowden

[asryakino]

Bowden’s Cure Ch 2

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The long range comms picked up the larger ship only a few moments before the communication request came in. Nev just happened to be at the controls, calibrating the engines with Tyran when it came through. He send the request right back to the ship. Everyone had gotten at least six cycles of rest, most had been working on various repair, cleaning, or research. And Bowden, refreshed after a full nine had a chat with a few potential targets among the crew. He'd also put more than a few credits in the pool, his chits were on Del having pissed off some Terran high house. Del, to his credit, wasn't positive it wasn't his fault. The situation was still bothering Bowden, however, as something still didn't add up. That was when Mariele approached him. "Captain?" The quiet voice interrupted his throughts, the return comms signal had already gone through, and he was brushing off the signature coat. It took him longer than he would have admitted to realize where the quiet, unassuming voice came from. 

Mariele rarely spoke. In fact, he could barely recall a time he'd heard more than a hundred words from her in the entire pont she'd been on the ship. "Mari." He answered shortly, then looked at her. She was frightened. No, she was terrified. His plates knitted together and he bent down to be just a bit closer to eye level. "What happened?" "I think it's my fault." Came the quiet, afraid response. Well, that got all of his neurons. He raised a hand, signaling to Nev with a snap. A wordless signal to get his second in command on deck -now-. "Mariele… what makes you think they're targeting you?" The old captain's brain was firing left, right and centre trying to place where they'd picked the blue-skinned Terranform. Some off spiral supply station? She'd been some stowaway on a cargo ship… "Captain." The short response came from his right side. "Aqua, Mariele seems to think our new friends may be her old friends. Thoughts?" By this point the blue-skinned and crystal eyed former stowaway looked as though she was going to shake herself to pieces on the main deck. Aquatani looked her over, smiled gently and seemed to regard her for several drops. "It may be possible, Captain. But the pool is still in Del's favour." The weak attempt at humour made Bowden stand just a tick stiffer.

"Get everyone on board. Nev, finish those calibrations while we're idle, disengage from the base and send them on their way." Things were lining up in Bowden's mind. He turned, a little sharper than he intended to, toward the terrified form of the ship's assistant medic. "I'll say again, whatever happened, I don't care about specifics. That's a past life. However." He bent his overly large frame, seemingly larger now that he'd put the ugly brown coat back on. "You're shaking worse than a leaf in a devil wind, Mariele. I won't ask but one question. Did you tell Aqua?" His second looked to him, Mariele looked shocked and, somehow, more frightened. Which told him everything he needed. He nodded shortly. "That's all I need. Aqua, I expect a full report -later-." He emphasized, then stood back to his full height. A hand went down on the innership comms console. "All crew, get your asses back on the Bowden. Now."

The false asteroid was floating away not even a cycle later, lost to the orbital cloud field and cloaked among the debris by the time the larger ship came into the ship's visual range. She was scuffed, tired, and old. But she was patiently waiting. So when the short range comms pinged with an open request, Bowden was ready to answer. On the screen a half dozen Terrans were poised at various positions. All slicked hair, multi-coloured private industry uniforms, and uninterested expressions. A sharp contrast to the distinctly inTerran crew consisting of: a purple, four-armed Gaarth captain; a skinny brown six-armed Klaxon navigation; a Terran-shaped android with blue covering and short white hair; and a pair of avian-like crewmembers in black/red and white. Neither crew looked particularly happy, though both captains wore vaguely acceptable neutral expressions.  

"Greetings to you Polaris. Have we finished our game of tag?"  Captain Hasser smirked. "Bit of engine trouble caused a slowdown, I suspect?" He allowed a smug twitch of his lip. "I have business with you Bowden, concerning a rather dangerous cargo you're carrying." "We're not a cargo ship, and you're being a bit rude, Captain. Seeing as you know me and mine, but didn't introduce yourself and your blind ship." The Terran seemed briefly insulted, or surprised. "Right. I did get a bit ahead of myself. My most sincere apologies, you must understand. Tales of your ship and crew do spread to the far systems from one arm to the next." He gave a short bow at the waist, the bare minimum of Captain-to-Captain respect. "I'm Cassian Hasser, Captain of the Startear. We'll speak more in person, Captain Bowden. I really am quite honoured to meet you face-to-face." He didn't allow a response, cutting the communication even as the smaller ship shook from the impact of tow cables. Bowden made a rude grunt in his throat before hitting the innership comms. "Crew, lock down in bunks. Essential crew to the top deck. We're being boarded."

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"Welcome aboard. Captain Cassian." Bowden didn't hide his displeasure at the Terran man's actions. But neither was he hostile. It was simply the proud demeanor of a leader who didn't appreciate the invasion of another. Cassian, on the other hand showed and gave off no air of ill will. Only the apparent unearned superiourity of most Terran high races "I've no fight with you, Captain Bowden. Just the opposite. I've grown up hearing the tales of you, your ship, and your crew. It's inspired countless others to take up a helm into the stars." "So you ran us into the dirt for nearly four docyce because of… admiration? Most just send a card. Some send explosives." Bowden gave his mimic of a Terran smile. His mandibles never -quite- getting the shape right, so it came across as nearly threatening. "Not at all." Cassian looked upward at the (In)famous captain. "But you're carrying an Atlemarian." He stated simply with finality.

Bowden stopped briefly. That statement threw him. "Do I look like the kind of man who would put myself, my crew, and every port I've ever been to in that kind of danger? There's no Atlemarians on this ship." If Bowden ever dealt in positives. This was the one thing even he knew. Atlemaria was a plagued world. Quarantined for generations now with the only surviving populations being deformed by plague scars. An interstellar prion disease that had ravaged three star systems before being contained via extreme measures. He'd seen the pain and suffering the Atlemarian disease had caused, the lives it had ripped down. "Terrifying. Isn't it?" Cassian's voice broke through Bowden's moment of thought. The Gaarth's eyes landed on, and narrowed at, the Terran Captain. "Not really. Since there's no such passenger on this ship. I keep extremely precise manifests, you're welcome to look them over." He shot back shortly. His secondary arms, folded under the ugly brown coat began to open. Aqua moved a half step closer to him, discreetly pressing her elbow into his hip. "I'll have a look. But while I inspect the manifest, my crew will search her out." A gloved hand lifted, sending two lines of Terran crew strode across the barrier and began making their way to the crew decks with an uncomfortable familiarity. "It won't take long, I assure you." That smug tone infuriated Bowden more than anything. More than the everlasting case, the stress, and the capture. Just that Terran smugness that he hated -so- much. Bowden's mandibles clicked slightly. He lifted a hand toward Fakeer, who delivered the manifest log in a tense handoff to the man.

"Who, precisely are you with? If you don't mind my asking. If the situation was this important, why go through all…" He motioned glibly with one large purple hand, eyeing the bold man. "I'm a privately interested party. We're researching the disease itself in search of a cure." "There is no cure. They've sought one for six generations and-" "Not yet. There isn't." Cassian interrupted. "But there is hope for one. Specifically in the 'Marian you've been unwittingly trafficking." "And I'm telling you I've never picked anyone up from that arm of th-." Bowden was growing annoyed, his hand balled tightly and resting on the back of his console. A high-pitched, terrified yelp broke through his defense and he turned sharply.

Bowden wasn't the only one to respond in defense of the terrified noise his medical assistant had made. He heard the distinct sound of four barrack doors open, and had to bark out a sharp "Quarters!" before Mariele's 'siblings' came out. The last thing he needed was a pissed off Deloth male trying to rip the arms off a dozen Terrans. He straightened up, as if he'd suddenly had a quasar steel rod implanted in his back. The doors slid shut. One. Two. Three. He turned to Aqua sharply. Who stalked, stiffly and straight, down the barracks. Four. Slowly he turned toward Cassian. Who, even if only briefly, seemed to realize -something- had been averted. Though he maintained the façade of being correct in his actions. Bowden carefully cleared his throat, Mariele was escorted to the ship-to-ship barrier by three Terrans who stood around her. He could see her. Unhurt, but shaking. He turned pointedly toward Hesser. "You seem to have mistaken my Glaxian medical assistant for your missing 'Marian plague victim, Captain. Considering her state of. A-hem, dress when we found her discarded with the rotten cargo, I can assure you, personally, she has no Atlemarian disease scars, or signs of ever having been to any affected planet in the Aquallous Arm." He squared his shoulders, rolling the tightened muscle down and discreetly shifting the tension down his smaller support arms, still folded tightly under the oversized coat. He tried to relax his expression, attempting to play off the mistake as some kind of joke. "Though I can see how, to a high Terran eyes, Glaxian and Atlemarians could look alike. I would suggest you release our medical assistant back into our care, since you're clearly mistaken." There was an edge to his tone. An edge that in the past had turned such smug men of multiple races into jelly-kneed apologists. A tone that promised the dislocation of several important body parts. A tone that did not fuck around.

And it fell flat on the Terran man. Who eyed Bowden, then casually passed the manifest log forward, holding it out as simply as if he had merely borrowed a tissue. "This is why we didn't simply attack you. To give her time to come to her senses. To realize who we were. To inform -you- of the truth, and do the right thing. A shame that the selfish creature has allowed you to live so ignorantly on your own ship, Captain Bowden. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you. But this woman…" Cassian reached blindly toward Mariele, snatching her wrist and pulled her forward, holding her up until her limbs were stretched out and she was balanced on her toes alone. He thrust her forward. "Has lied to you since day. One. Had we attacked, you would have defended her to your own last life. And no one should die for the lies of another. We tracked her after she escaped the quarantine zone on a supply crate. It took nearly a full urt to find out she had hidden away on -your- ship." He frowns sourly. "A ship that is so well known, so well protected, and so infamous that attacking without retaliation would be impossible. Sneaking aboard would be suicide. And simply requesting you turn her over would be fruitless." Bowden's body tensed. Had Aqua not returned and firmly lay a hand on his arm to physically remind him of what was at risk, he would have lunged forward and begun relieving the Terran m an of his digits. "Tell him." Cassian hissed. "Are you an Atlemarian?"

Mariele flinched, tears welled in her crystal clear eyes, her head nodded silently, tension leaving her body as a quiet sob caught in her chest. "My… name… is J'mari L'emuin… n-not Mariele J'nai." The small voice managed to hiccup out the name. Aquatani's hand gripped to Bowden's forearm in silent affirmation. Bowden's shoulders remained tense, even as he inhaled slowly. Cassian lowered the tiny woman until she was flat on her feet, shifting his grip to her shoulder. "Why?" It was all Bowden could manage. A single word that held a dozen questions. Both for the Terran, and his formerly trusted crewmate.

"Why… doesn't she have scars? Why hasn't anyone ever gotten sick, if she's been exposed to infection? Why did she flee the quarantine zone?" Cassian eyed the massive Gaarth with the self-assurance born of having answers. Why did she come to your ship of all the ships she could have escaped to?" Bowden nodded mutely, his face plates knitted so tightly across his expression they very nearly formed a mask. "She's immune." Cassian said shortly, simply. Just as if it were the answer to every question Bowden could ever have.   "Fucking impossible." Bowden snapped. "It's true. One of -four- born on the entire planet. Different areas, different families, the exact same immunity. Total protein destruction. Not built immunity. Not an adapted immunity. Neither learned nor medical. Born immune, it can't even incubate in their blood. The rarest blood in the known universe." An emotion passed over Bowden. The expression on Cassian's face was changed. His tone only barely masked the excitement he felt, and just barely, a motion that would never have been noticed by another, he squeezed Mariele's wrist. "And she ran to the Star Farer himself. The one man in the entire universe who would never question her lie, who would allow her to join without an ounce of hesitation. The one ship in all the arms that she felt could protect her secret. Polaris-class, the most well known ship for nine galaxies, feared by another fifteen. Thomas Bowden and her Captain of the same name." Conceit oozed from the man as he explained. The self-same superiourity that made Bowden want to rip his smug little arms from their snug little sockets. Self-assured that he had all the answers and could lourde it over everyone on the main deck. "Over an urt I looked for her. I chose the least violent and safest way to retrieve her. This precious 'Marian child that holds within her the possible cure for the worst disease in the entire universe. Everyone's heard the stories of what you went through facing the disease when your crewmates fell to it. Had you been infected you'd've been locked on the planet with them." Bowden remained still. If he was breathing, even Aqua couldn't be sure. To break him free of the apparent spell, she squeezed his tightly coiled arm.

The squeeze made him inhale sharply. Deep blue eyes focusing suddenly, intently, intensely, on the other captain standing before him, delicate fingers laced around the even more delicate wrist of his medical assistant. He'd heard enough. Tension rolled out of his shoulders and down his back, making his shoulders droop in defeat. His head fell forward and his hands unclenched. Inch by inch, tension and anger rolled away from his posture. When he spoke the Gaarth's voice was as calm as it ever was and nearly emotionless. His eyes focused on his crewmate. He neither raised it in anger, nor lowered it in intimidation. His words were soft, unjudgemental, and seeking only the reassurance of truth. "Is what he said true?" Mariele/J'mari held back the sobs that wanted to wrack her body. She bite back on the tip of her tongue to return his calm that was as deep as any sea. She quivered in the firm hold Hasser had on her shoulder and wrist. The truth was the only thing she had left. It had been laid out succinctly before everyone. There was more, but the fingers digging subtly into her flesh wouldn't allow more to be said.

"Yes."

Aqua squeezed Bowden's arm once again. He still didn't look up. He didn't speak another word for a long time; nor did it seem he expected anyone to break the silence between those on the tired old ship's deck. His shoulders remained limp, and a hand that seemed to move with the weight of a star on it pulled through the fog of his decision and lay atop the comforting and reassuring hand on his arm. "I can't risk the Atlemarian Prion being released on my ship. Immune or not, Atlemarian children cannot be welcomed  on this craft. Thank you Captain Cassian for telling me honestly and without malice or desire about the danger to my crew. I wish you luck in your search for a cure." Mariele's expression fell. She'd betrayed the trust of her captain. Of course he wouldn't defend her. Her voice failed. Words she desperately wanted to shout toward Bowden died in her chest as she saw his defeated shoulders. She betrayed her captain… Her body lost its will, legs losing the strength to hold her up. Cassian swept her into his arms. Had he been a bit more noble, and a bit less haughty, it would have been a sweet motion. As he spoke, Cassian gestured with his chin for his crew to leave the ancient Captain's ship. The air had grown so thick Cassian had briefly considered if it could actually storm in such a confined space.

"Thank you, Captain. The sacrifice you make today shall fuel the world of tomorrow." Captain Hasser swept the smaller woman's form through the connection and back toward his own ship. Within just a couple of moments, the connection was pulled away and the languishing ship was free to float in space as it was. While the larger ship slowly began to turn around. Within a few ionfel it had charted a new course and flung itself into space; leaving behind the Thomas Bowden and her somber crew.

They waited. The ship sat silent and still. Subtly, quietly, the computer system chirped away in calculations. When the ship was well out of sensor range, a flurry of activity stirred in her belly. "They're clear. All scans confirm Star Tear is out of range, left nothing behind." Kitani's voice was the first to cut through the thick silence. Below, the amorphous Engineer called up. "Engines calibrated."

"Ten… nine… eight…" Bowden's rumbling voice counted down from where his head remained bowed in somber contemplation. "Seven… six…" His head raised up, the expression determined, newly refreshed, and… excited. "Six… five… four…" Now as he counted down, he began moving around the flight deck. At the helm, Nev's six limbs dances over consoles, controlling four panels' worth of information effortlessly. While Fakeer and Kitani moved to the barracks deck with a renewed vigor, as if their tail feathers had been lit aflame. "Three… two…" Aqua was counting as well, moving with the speed and efficiency of a madwoman on a mission. The barracks were filled with heavily armed crewmates. Ready to go to war for their beloved crew member. Bowden's eyes told of the rage he had broiled down, concentrated into his gut so tightly he could feel his insides roiling against each other as if they would burst any moment. As the engines whirred into a new life, the ship rumbled with a renewed purpose. Gunner seats sat empty, but enticing. With the new information Bowden had his decision. He would be going to the ends of the universe. But before they could pick up the wayward crewmate, there were a few stops they needed to make. Engines hot, the ship took off through the Orbital field.

"One."

[readreadbookblog]

Books That I’ve Read

Here is all the new movies that I consumed in the year of 2020. I only put here the new items that I previously never have experienced before. Listed in the order that I saw them in. Lets hope that 2021’s list is greater.

Books

The Return of George Washington 1783-1789 by Edward J. Larson REVIEW

For Fear of An Elective King: George Washington and the Presidential Title Controversy of 1789 by Kathleen Bartoloni-Tuazon REVIEW

Springfield Confidential: Jokes, Secrets, and Outright Lies from a Lifetime Writing for The Simpsons by Mike Reiss REVIEW

Pat McCarran: Political Boss of Nevada by Jerome E. Edwards REVIEW

Negro President: Jefferson and the Slave Power by Garry Wills

Thomas Jefferson and the Tripoli Pirates: The Forgotten War that Changed American History by Brian Kilmeade and Don Yaeger REVIEW

Most Blessed of the Patriarchs: Thomas Jefferson and the Empire of the Imagination by Annette Gordon-Reed and Peter S. Onuf

The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Blitzed: Drugs in the Third Reich by Norman Ohler REVIEW

Dearest Friend: A Life of Abigail Adams by Lynne Withey REVIEW

Fardwor, Russia by Oleg Kashin REVIEW

Doctor Deal by Mark Bowden REVIEW

The Showa Anthology: Modern Japanese Short Stories Volume 1, 1929-1961 edited by Van C. Gessel REVIEW

Broad Strokes: 15 Women Who Made Art and History (In That Order) by  Bridget Quinn REVIEW

The Girls of Nevada by Gabriel R. Vogliotti REVIEW

On History: Tariq Ali and Oliver Stone in Conversation REVIEW

Mussolini by Jasper Ridley REVIEW

George Washington by James MacGregor Burns and Susan Dunn REVIEW

Elvis, Marilyn, and the Space Aliens: Icons on Screen in Nevada by Robin Holabird

Myths and Mysteries of California: True Stories of the Unsolved and Unexplained by Ray Jones

Tales To Give You Goosebumps: 10 Spooky Stories by R.L. Stine REVIEW

Even More Tales to Give You Goosebumps: Ten Spooky Stories by R.L. Stine REVIEW

More Tales to Give You Goosebumps by R.L. Stine REVIEW

Goosebumps 2000 Jekyll and Heidi by R.L. Stine REVIEW

Goosebumps 2000 Fright Camp by R.L. Stine REVIEW

Goosebumps 2000 The Werewolf in the Living Room by R.L. Stine REVIEW

Goosebumps 2000 Ghost in the Mirror by R.L. Stine REVIEW

Goosebumps 2000 Full Moon Fever by R.L. Stine REVIEW

Goosebumps 2000 Earth Geeks Must Go! by R.L. Stine REVIEW

War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells

Decision at Sea: Five Naval Battles That Shaped American History by  Craig L. Symonds REVIEW

The Bees by Laline Paull REVIEW

Serve the People! by Yan Lianke REVIEW

True Tales from Another Mexico: The Lynch Mob, the Popsicle Kings, Chalino, and the Bronx by Sam Quinones REVIEW

Harold Shipman: The True Story of Britain's Most Notorious Serial Killer by Ryan Green REVIEW

The Texas Tower Sniper: The Terrifying True Story of Charles Whitman by Ryan Green REVIEW

Colombian Killers: The True Stories of the Three Most Prolific Serial Killers on Earth by Ryan Green REVIEW

The Year of Living Danish by Helen Russell REVIEW

EROTICA: Nudist Family: 15 Short Stories by Ginger Sinclair REVIEW

My Sister the Nudist by Martin Brant REVIEW

[smithlibrary]

Read More 2020 Birds A book about birds or a bird in the title (fiction or nonfiction)

Biography I know why the caged bird sings by Maya Angelou Lady Bird Johnson by Michael L. Gillette To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Fiction The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey The Night Birds by Thomas James Maltman The Good Lord Bird by James McBride The Thorn Birds by Colleen McCullough Sadness is a White Bird Moriel Rothman-Zecher The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt 

Classic The Four Feathers by A. E. W.  Mason

Horror Bird Box by Josh Malerman

Mystery A Murder Hatched by Donna Andrews The Chocolate Falcon Fraud by JoAnna Carl Cat Among the Pigeons by Agatha Christie The Cuckoo's Calling by Robert Galbraith

Non-Fiction How to Know the Birds: The Art & Adventure of Birding by Ted Floyd Raptor: A Journey through Birds by James Lockhart Birding Without Borders by Noah K. Strycker H is for Hawk by Helen Macdonald Bird Dream by Matt Higgins A Murder of Crows by Larry D. Thomas Black Hawk Down by Mark Bowden

SciFi/Fantasy All the Birds in the Sky by Charlie Jane Anders Black Feathers: Dark Avian Tales A Feast for Crows by George R. R. Martin Mouthful of Birds by Samanta Schweblin Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Young Adult Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J. K. Rowling The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

[todayclassical]

April 17 in Music History

1568 Birth of composer Christoph Thomas Walliser.

1587 Birth of composer Marco Ivan Lukacic.

1683 Birth of composer Johann David Heinichen in Krüssuln. 

1719 Birth of composer Christian Gottfried Krause.

1724 Birth of Prince Ferdinand Lobkowitz in Prague, patron of Gluck. 1738 Birth of composer Philip Hayes.

1741 Birth of German composer Johann Gottlieb Naumann.  1774 Birth of Czech composer and organist Vaclav Jan Krtitel Tomasek.

1797 Birth of Belgian composer and conductor Jean-Baptiste-Joseph Tolbecque.

1811 Birth of composer Ann Sheppard Mounsey.

1820 Birth of composer Gottfried Conradi.

1833 FP in US of Mozart's opera The Magic Flute performed in English, at the Park Theatre in New York City.

1849 Debut of Louis M. Gottschalk at the Salle Pleyel in Paris.

1874 Birth of Czech baritone-tenor Rudolf Berger in Brünn, Moravia. 

1879 Birth of French soprano Agnès Borgo.

1882 Birth of Austrian pianist Artur Schnabel in Lipnik.

1883 Birth of composer Hermann Darewsky.

1885 Birth of American violinist and composer Cecil Burleigh.

1888 Birth of English soprano Dame Maggie Teyte in Wolverhampton. 

1894 Birth of American compóser Hans Ewald Hiller. 

1894 Birth of American composer and orchestrator Hans Spialek.

1897 Birth of Norwegian composer Harald Saeverud in Bergen.

1900 Birth of Swiss composer Willy Burkhard in Évilard-sur-Bienne, Zurich. 

1903 Birth of Russian composer Nicolas Nabokov near Minsk. 1903 Birth of Russian cellist Gregor Piatigorsky in Ekaterinoslav. 

1906 In San Francisco Italian tenor Enrico Caruso sings in Bizet's Carmen with the Metropolitan Opera company the evening before the major earthquake.

1907 FP of Sir Edward German's Tom Jones a comic opera in London.

1912 Birth of Hungarian soprano Marta Eggerth in Budapest. 

1914 Birth of French soprano Janine MicheauI in Toulouse. 

1918 FP of S. Prokofiev's Piano Sonata No. 4 and Two Sonatinas, Op. 54. The composer was the soloist, in Petrograd.

1923 Birth of Italian tenor Gianni Raimondi in Bologna. 1925 Birth of German bass-baritone Wolfgang Zimmermann in Stuttgart. 

1925 Birth of English contralto Pamela Bowden in Rochdale. 

1927 Birth of Italian soprano Graziella Sciutti in Turin. 

1927 Birth of composer Christopher Whelen.

1940 Birth of German soprano Anja Silja in Berlin. 

1936 Birth of tenor Paul Crook in Blackburn. 

1937 Birth of American electronic music composer Donald Buchla.

1940 Birth of German tenor Siegfried Jerusalem in Oberhausen. 

1941 Birth of composer Adolphus Hailstork.

1942 Death of American mezzo-soprano, soprano, Dreda Aves in Newark, NJ. 

1944 Birth of German baritone Grit Van Jueten in Hamburg.

1950 Birth of Brazilian-English pianist Christina Ortiz in Bahia, Brazil. 

1953 FP of Benjamin's "A Tale of Two Cities" in London.

1959 Death of German soprano Barbara Kemp. 

1963 Death of German tenor Fritz Windgassen. 

1964 FP of Miklos Rozsa's Notturno Ungherese. Philadelphia Orchestra, Eugene Ormandy conducting.

1965 FP of Igor Stravinsky's Variations an Aldous Huxley memoriam and Introitus a T.S. Eliot memoriam. Chicago Symphony conducted by Robert Craft.

1972 Death of Italian soprano Mercedes Fortunati. 

1974 Death of American composer Herbert Elwell at age 75, in Cleveland, OH.  1998 FP of Libby Larsen's Songs of Light and Love with poems of May Sarton. With soprano Benita Valente and the Network for New Music, in Philadelphia.

2000 Death of mezzo-soprano Paula Lindberg. 

2002 Death of Canadian composer and conductor Srul Irving Glick.

2003 FP of Sofia Gubaidulina's The Light of the End. Boston Symphony, Kurt Masur, conducting, in Boston, MA.

[gibsonsflowofthoughts]

Florida State football preview 2018: The ACC’s wild card

Bill C’s annual preview series of every FBS team in college football continues. Catch up here!

The FSU ship might have eventually righted, had Jimbo Fisher stayed in Tallahassee. Toward the end of 2017, things had improved.

The Seminoles’ 2017 was defined by injury, youth, and staleness. Fisher had labored through 2016 with a redshirt freshman quarterback (Deondre Francois), and just as he was set to take advantage of that experience, Francois was lost for the season in the first game, so Fisher went through 2017 with a true freshman (James Blackman).

That’s death for a coach with a complex offensive system, and after losing no more than four games in any of his first seven seasons, Fisher had lost five by the end of October.

The Noles won five of their last six games, though, albeit mostly against “ain’t played nobody” competition. They had eventual ACC champ Clemson on the ropes — they had the ball in Tiger territory with a chance to take the lead with under seven minutes left — in Death Valley in mid-November. They rallied to make a bowl and (after Fisher’s exit) win it, and they finished 7-6, just as they had in Bobby Bowden’s final season. It could have been worse.

FSU in 2017

Category First 7 games Last 6 games

Category First 7 games Last 6 games

Record 2 W, 5 L 5 W, 1 L Avg. score Opp 24, FSU 1 FSU 40, Opp 18 Yards per play FSU 5.3, Opp 5.1 FSU 6.1, Opp 4.3 Avg. percentile performance 46% (31% off, 65% def) 66% (65% off, 71% def) Avg. performance vs. S&P+ proj. -16.1 PPG +15.2 PPG

Throughout, there was a sense that Fisher either needed a massive transfusion on his staff or to find another job. Though the circumstances became less grave, the latter still unfolded when Texas A&M whipped out a Texas-sized check.

FSU is starting all over all the same. Maybe that means FSU can actually be fun again.

For three straight years, Fisher deployed a new QB to run an offense with a high barrier to entry — first, Notre Dame transfer Everett Golson, then Francois and Blackman. There were more shots of Fisher lecturing his QB on the sideline than there were big pass plays, and while all Francois averaged 6.6 yards per non-sack carry in 2016, and Golson rushed for about 500 non-sack yards at ND in 2014, Fisher all but demanded his QBs not cross the line of scrimmage. Plus, the defense was always solid but rarely as good as its recruiting rankings suggested.

The Noles were, until early-2017, consistently excellent, but they were frustrating. It felt like they were leaving points on the board, especially considering their use (or total lack thereof) of tempo.

If Willie Taggart has his way, that might change. A member of the Jim Harbaugh coaching tree, FSU’s new head coach found at USF that the more he opened up his offense, the better he did. He was on the ropes two years and just six wins into his USF tenure, but by his fourth year, the Bulls were 11-2 and eighth in the country in Off. S&P+. He went to Oregon last year, and when ace QB Justin Herbert was healthy, Taggart’s Ducks went 6-1 and averaged 52 points per game.

The 41-year-old is still full of potential. So is his 33-year-old offensive coordinator, Walt Bell. And he’s now got two sophomore QBs who fit that description, too. I’ve only used the f-word once in the last five FSU previews (to describe the Noles’ 2016-ending Orange Bowl win over Michigan), but I’ll say it: FSU could be fun this year.

Fun doesn’t equate to awesome. FSU was mostly awesome during Fisher’s tenure, after all. But it’s easy to see how the two might work in tandem. A Taggart/Bell offense that uses its QBs’ legs, creates more space for a receiver like Nyqwan Murray, and creates more chances for blue-chip sophomore running back Cam Akers could work.

It could work doubly well if FSU uses tempo to its advantage. When you’ve got a per-play talent advantage, it makes sense to want more plays, to maximize that advantage and increase margin for error. Oregon ranked eighth in my adjusted pace measure last year; tempo is likely coming to Tallahassee.

Offense

If you looked at FSU’s 2017 stats without any context clues, your first impression might be, “Damn, this had to have been a really young offense.” The Noles were decent and had the talent to carry out the plan — they were 23rd in Standard Downs S&P+, after all — but they were constantly done in by mistakes.

They ranked 121st in stuff rate (run stops at or behind the line) and 108th in Adj. Sack Rate; eventually a drive would be done in by a glitch, and the Noles didn’t produce enough big plays (or, with their slow tempo, opportunities) to counter that. And with the youngster at QB, they weren’t in position to catch back up to the chains.

Cam Akers

Kim Klement-USA TODAY Sports

Experience should help. Either Francois or Blackman will have each of last year’s top three running backs, four of six wideouts, and four linemen with at least 11 career starts.

The QB will also have one more new weapon: his legs.

I think it’s justifiable to expect FSU’s QBs to run twice as often. It could be triple, but that’s not a place I’m willing to go just yet. [...] Almost all of FSU’s running plays under Willie Taggart will have at least the legitimate threat of the QB running. It makes a defense defend 11 on 11, as opposed to 11 on 10.

Akers had some dominant spurts as a freshman, rushing a combined 35 times for 236 yards against Miami and Duke early in the season, then posting 32 carries for 211 yards against ULM and Southern Miss to finish the year. Plus, veteran backup Jacques Patrick was, despite his 6’3, 235-pound frame, perhaps more explosive than Akers. This should be a fun duo, and we’ll see what junior Amir Rasul or a four-star redshirt freshman like Khalan Laborn or Zaquandre White can bring. The threat of a rushing QB can only help.

The line should be solid, at least on the interior. Second-team all-conference center Alec Eberle’s back and healthy, and the depth chart will see a constant battle between experienced three-star veterans (Eberle, tackle Derrick Kelly II, guard Cole Minshew) and young blue-chippers. Guard Landon Dickerson, who missed enough of last year to get a medical redshirt and now has 11 career starts as a redshirt sophomore, is both.

Talking yourself into the passing game takes a bit more faith. FSU had a problem with developing receivers — Fisher brought in plenty of star recruits, but few were demonstrably better when they left — and veterans Murray and Keith Gavin have flashed between awesome and frustrating. Most of the “awesome” comes from Murray, who had 16 catches for just 99 yards in his first four games and four for 41 in FSU’s last three; in between: 20 catches, 464 yards. Dominant.

Gavin had four catches for 78 yards against hapless Delaware State last year but otherwise averaged just 9.6 yards per catch. He and another junior, oft-injured George Campbell, were both star recruits, and they’ve combined for just 453 career receiving yards to date.

There’s plenty of room for a youngster to break through. A redshirt freshman like Tamorrion Terry, not to mention maybe a true freshman or two, could see first-string reps. Sophomore slot receiver D.J. Matthews could benefit significantly from Bell’s system.

Nyqwan Murray

The Greenville News-USA TODAY Sports

This is all secondary to the biggest debate: Francois vs. Blackman. Francois is finally to be medically cleared this summer, so the battle can begin in fall camp. Let’s go to the tale of the tape.

Francois vs. Blackman

Category Francois in 2016 Blackman in 2017

Category Francois in 2016 Blackman in 2017

Completion rate 58.8% 58.2% Yards per completion 14.3 12.9 INT rate 1.8% 3.7% Passer rating 142.1 135.0 Ratio of pass attempts (inc. sacks) to rushes 5.9 8.8 Yards per (non-sack) carry 6.55 4.57

This all favors the more developed Francois, right down to the run-pass ratio. But Francois had a redshirt year to prepare for his trial, and Blackman was unexpectedly thrown into the fire. Plus, Blackman scored major leadership points and began to figure out where to go with the ball (last four games: 63 percent completion rate, 13.9 yards per completion, 168.9 passer rating, albeit against mostly shaky competition).

Despite Francois’ statistical advantage, this feels like a pretty even battle that could simply come down to which QB Taggart trusts more as a leader. But as long as the runner-up doesn’t immediately transfer, FSU will have a backup QB situation better than what Taggart had at Oregon last year.

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Defense

FSU’s defense was solid but inconsistent in the years after the 2013 title run. The Noles ranked 38th, 14th, 10th, and 33rd in Def. S&P+; last year’s unit basically reciprocated whatever hope its offense gave it. FSU allowed just 4.5 yards per play against Alabama, but after Francois’ injury, the Noles slumped to 5.4 per play in the following five games.

But after getting knocked around by Lamar Jackson and Louisville, FSU allowed under 5 per play for each remaining game.

The Noles were perhaps less efficient than they should have been and were significantly worse on passing downs (second-and-long or third/fourth-and-medium/long) than on standard downs, but they prevented big plays and shut down scoring opportunities before they reached the end zone.

But that’s probably enough about last year. This year’s defense will have a different coordinator and about eight new starters. Gone are stalwarts like safety Derwin James, linebacker Matthew Thomas, end Josh Sweat, and tackle Derrick Nnadi. This year’s defense will have some young stars.

Stanford Samuels III

Glenn Beil-USA TODAY Sports

You never want to rely on sophomores, but FSU’s could be pretty devastating.

Cornerback Stanford Samuels III made the second-most havoc plays (tackles for loss, passes defensed, forced fumbles) in the secondary as a freshman, combining three TFLs with two picks, five breakups, and an FF.

End Joshua Kaindoh made just 14 tackles as a backup, but 6.5 were tackles for loss, and four were sacks.

Safety Hamsah Nasirildeen saw extensive playing time and broke up three passes.

End Janarius Robinson and tackle Marvin Wilson made only a combined 7.5 tackles, but they were both also star recruits and could be ready for more responsibility. The same goes for linebacker Leonard Warner III (3.5 tackles) and safety Cyrus Fagan (4.5).

Samuels is a keeper, and Kaindoh could be dynamite opposite junior Brian Burns, who had a nice sophomore breakout, leading the team with 20.5 havoc plays (13.5 of them were TFLs). And a foursome of senior tackles led by Demarcus Christmas should assure that not too much is asked of Wilson and other young tackles.

There’s a veteran presence throughout the lineup in guys like safety A.J. Westbrook, corner Kyle Meyers, and linebackers Adonis Thomas, Dontavious Jackson, and Emmett Rice. But it’s hard not to get distracted by the younger guys here — not only the sophomores, but also the latest round of blue-chip freshmen: DBs Jaiden Woodbey, A.J. Lytton, and Asante Samuel Jr., tackle Robert Cooper, etc. (Note most of the standout names are linemen and DBs. Linebacker could be an area of concern.)

Set the bar for new coordinator Harlon Barnett at a top-25 performance this year, then raise it to top-10 in 2019.

Brian Burns

Nelson Chenault-USA TODAY Sports

Special Teams

FSU has been consistently dominant, ranking first in Special Teams S&P+ in 2015, fifth in 2014, and eighth in 2017. Logan Tyler’s punts were pretty long but returnable last year, but if that’s your biggest weakness, you’re doing alright.

Ricky Aguayo is excellent at place kicking, and the baseline of Amir Rasul and Keith Gavin in kick returns and D.J. Matthews in punt returns makes for a lovely unit overall.

2018 outlook

2018 Schedule & Projection Factors

Date Opponent Proj. S&P+ Rk Proj. Margin Win Probability 3-Sep Virginia Tech 21 3.3 58% 8-Sep Samford NR 34.4 98% 15-Sep at Syracuse 71 10.4 73% 22-Sep Northern Illinois 69 14.8 80% 29-Sep at Louisville 29 0.5 51% 6-Oct at Miami 13 -7.6 33% 20-Oct Wake Forest 34 7.4 67% 27-Oct Clemson 3 -10.6 27% 3-Nov at N.C. State 37 2.6 56% 10-Nov at Notre Dame 7 -11.6 25% 17-Nov Boston College 48 10.8 73% 24-Nov Florida 32 6.6 65%

There was a strange symmetry in Fisher’s last year, which produced an almost identical résumé as Bowden’s (both were 7-6 and between 41st and 43rd in S&P+).

There could also be symmetry in how the next season goes. In 2010, Fisher inherited a young but discombobulated two-deep, brought a few new influences, refocused the core, and surged to 10 wins and a No. 11 S&P+ ranking. That feels a little bit ambitious, but top-20 and eight or nine wins? I could see it.

The biggest obstacle is the schedule. S&P+ projects FSU 18th, but the Noles will face three teams projected 13th or better and eight projected 37th or better. There are about three or four baked-in wins (depending on what you think Florida is capable of) and an otherwise brutal schedule.

Still, you have to like where this is headed. Taggart brings all the energy that the program lacked, his staff is exciting, and early returns suggest recruiting is going to go just fine. FSU should be fun again, even if there are some fits and starts.

Team preview stats

Dope article from sbnation.com

[usatrendingsports]

Within the shadow of our opioid disaster, a school soccer participant finds a household and a future

MIDDLETOWN, N.J. — There’s completely no purpose Thomas Lopez must be telling anybody his life story.

To begin with, it is none your corporation. Would you need folks realizing your mom was a heroin addict who overdosed in entrance of you — twice?

Who would admit to an alienation so deep that his first Mom’s Day with the girl who introduced him into the world got here eight months in the past.

For that matter, why ought to anybody care a couple of 6-foot-5, 310-pound offensive sort out buried inside a storefront junior school in downtown Brooklyn, New York?

You do not know Thomas Lopez, however his story is America’s in 2018. It’s flawed and horrible and inspirational and poignant. It shines a light-weight on the human situation, the nation’s opioid epidemic, soccer tradition and the frequent decency instilled in all of us. 

However why is Thomas Lopez — who inked with Ball State throughout the Early Signing Interval — telling anybody any of this? It seems we have to know.

Addicts disguise in plain sight. Fractured households limp by day by day.

One of the best underdog tales aren’t restricted to slickly-produced weepers on ESPN’s “Faculty GameDay.”

“I feel it is lastly time for me to elucidate every little thing,” Lopez mentioned, “present folks every little thing.”

Thomas Lopez at an ASA Faculty observe. Thomas Lopez

Blink and you’ll miss ASA Faculty. The junior school at 81 Willoughby Road in downtown Brooklyn may go for an workplace constructing, a temp company or a authorities outpost.

The burden room is three blocks away in a dorm basement. Gamers bus 40 minutes to practices at a neighborhood highschool. The Avengers bussed 35 hours to play junior school energy Trinity Valley in Texas. The Brooklyn “campus” homes the one junior school soccer program in New York Metropolis. Glamour shouldn’t be the highest promoting level.

“I used to be born in Brooklyn, however I used to be like, ‘Oh my God. This isn’t like the universities I do know,”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM; mentioned Lopez’ maternal grandmother Linda Heintz, who helped increase him. “He would come residence typically and say, ‘I can not take it anymore.”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM;

There are 5 for-profit ASA campuses scattered by the New York Metropolis space and in South Florida. Soccer was added to the ASA system solely 9 years in the past.

“With out soccer, none of this implies shit,” mentioned Vinnie Rizzo, the Avengers’ offensive line coach.

It is that sort of mentality that drew Lopez from close by Middletown, New Jersey. It was shut (46 miles), and it was an inexpensive with an athletic scholarship.

“Simply the actual fact I have never paid a single penny for faculty is fairly wonderful,” Lopez mentioned.

Not that he had a lot of a alternative. His mom, Tracy, was out and in of his life with a drug drawback. His mother and father divorced quickly after he was born.

Out of Middletown South Excessive College, Lopez was pursued by Rutgers as a walk-on candidate. FAU might or might not have been , however Lopez was so uninformed about what it took academically to play school soccer that he did not know till weeks earlier than enrollment that he was a non-qualifier. There was no manner he may get a scholarship.

Somebody needed to clarify the idea to him.

“If it wasn’t for me waking up and having my again in opposition to the wall, this all would not come to fruition in any respect,” Lopez mentioned this summer season going into his second ASA season.

In the midst of a dreary cinderblock dorm room in the summertime of 2016, a line was drawn. Soccer was a way to finish.

Lopez desires to be an accountant, attend a famous enterprise faculty.  He is good sufficient and sufficiently big, simply tremendously deprived — backed into society’s nook. That is principally what JUCO soccer is: a final resort. The gamers share a standard bond. As soccer prospects, they’re virtually all poor both bodily, academically or legally. Generally all three.

It is a tradition so amazingly determined Netflix created the hit actuality documentary “Final Probability U.” ASA’s program was a finalist to be featured for the 2017 season.

“There was actually no construction on this program,” mentioned Avengers coach Joe Osovet, who took over in 2016. “The prisoners ran the asylum. Being in a JUCO, these youngsters want construction. They need construction. A number of them have by no means had construction of their life. That is why they’re right here.”

That is actually why Thomas Lopez was right here. At ASA, he placed on 40 kilos and located a objective.

“He has every little thing you need in an offensive lineman,” Rizzo mentioned. “He is a troublesome, nasty child. He is a prick. He jogs my memory of myself once I performed. I would just bury guys.”

As soon as dedicated to Scott Frost and UCF, Lopez was disillusioned to search out one other vagary of junior school: timing. The second semester began at UCF on Jan. eight. Lopez will not get his associates diploma from ASA till late January.

Akron coach Terry Bowden turned up the recruiting warmth. As a part of the recruiting course of, Lopez’s step grandmother was allowed to name Bobby Bowden, Terry’s hall-of-fame dad.

“I simply talked to a residing legend,” mentioned Julie Chidichimo, a Florida State alum.  

If it takes a village, then this village was blessed with the gene that makes people dive into flood waters to rescue drowning victims. Coaches, household, associates, a girlfriend, all of them bought Thomas Lopez to this second.

However principally it was Thomas getting Thomas to this second. A 3-star JUCO recruit who performed for a state champion at Middletown South discovered his subsequent soccer residence.

Quickly after, he discovered a life steadiness.

Tracy Lopez (proper) watches on as her son indicators with Ball State. Thomas Lopez

“I used to be fortunate sufficient to be born,” Thomas Lopez mentioned. “My mother was doing [heroin] earlier than [my birth].”

Whereas there was no heart to his day-to-day existence, his mom, Tracy, was actually the each day heart of his points.

“She’s all the time had psychological points since she was just a little baby,” Heintz mentioned. “They informed me a very long time in the past if she did not [abuse drugs] that she would have most likely killed herself.”

Tracy Lopez, 38, reluctantly agreed to an interview with CBS Sports activities. She emerged from a again room at Heintz’s residence earlier this season whereas nonetheless in therapy for her habit.

“I am a nervous wreck. I have been freaking out all week,” she mentioned.

She then went into element about that first Mom’s Day along with her solely baby, now 20. It got here in Might. Tracy was nicely sufficient to attend a household get collectively.

The son and mom exchanged playing cards.

“Mine was easy: Comfortable Mom’s Day,” Thomas mentioned.

“It was a giant deal for me as a result of that is my first yr,” Tracy mentioned, “… as a result of I often do take a setback.”

Mom and son have reconciled. The factor is, although, a motherless Mom’s Day is greater than annually. It is kindergarten, bake gross sales, Cub Scouts, Halloween, Christmas — all of it typically and not using a mother.

“Whenever you’re little, you are type of confused,” Lopez mentioned. “You are numb to all of it. It hits you in center faculty and highschool. You begin experiencing issues. I really feel like I matured so much sooner than different folks. I needed to shield myself.”

Lopez principally grew up with out his start mom and father however with a household. One which collectively hugged him in its arms, not wanting him to slide away.

“He was actually a feral baby,” mentioned Peter Kafaf, a private coach who labored creating Lopez’s soccer abilities. “He had individuals who beloved him, however Thomas’ character got here from Thomas.

“You haven’t any help at residence. You get no steerage. You attempt to preserve your mom from dying as a result of she’s overdosing. You come residence to search out her on the ground and foam spewing out of her mouth.”

The addicted amongst us can typically perform at a excessive degree. However the addicted may drag down a complete household.

They do not train you wherever how you can dig right down to the final penny of your $600-a-month baby help fee to deal with your mother’s behavior. Lopez did that on no less than one event.

“I have never eaten in two days,” Lopez as soon as informed Kafaf. “I had to make use of my meals cash to purchase my mom methadone.”

There is no such thing as a primer to rebound from hopelessness.

“I used to be pissed off at every little thing,” Lopez mentioned. “I used to be pissed off I did not have the identical residence life. The place my grandmother lives is a very nice space. Mine was a very good faculty. All the youngsters have very nice lives, and I used to be like, ‘Why do I not have this?”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM;

“I actually did not care in highschool,” Lopez added. “It actually hit me once I got here right here, once I realized I do not need to turn into what my mother and father had been.”

Tracy Lopez (center) and Thomas Lopez (proper) on the residence of Linda Heintz (left). Dennis Dodd

This American household drama was performed out within the relative opulence of the New Jersey suburbs. Middletown is an upscale group inside driving distance of New York. Heintz’s residence must be within the Nationwide Register of Historic Locations.

It was in-built 1720. A film was filmed there. In that pastoral setting, Heintz remembers the dialogue along with her two different youngsters sitting on the steps of the entrance porch deciding who needed to go inside to are inclined to Tracy after one other bender.

You go in.

No, you go in.

Is she nonetheless respiratory?

Are you able to see her chest transfer?

“We have been by so much on this home,” Heintz mentioned.

Her husband as soon as ran a psychiatric hospital. A easy Achilles surgical procedure was tragedy. Problems triggered an absence of oxygen throughout the process that led to mind injury.

“Thomas used to say, ‘This daddy’s damaged. We want a brand new one,”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM; Heintz recalled.

Thomas Heintz — really Thomas’ grandfather — was in a coma for a month. He lasted seven extra years. Thomas was named after him.

“I used to be then taking good care of somebody who had a mind damage. You simply do it,” Linda Heintz mentioned. “That is when Tracy had her issues.”

The opioid drawback within the U.S. is actual. The category of doubtless addictive painkillers is being prescribed at report charges although the quantity of ache reported by People hasn’t elevated, in keeping with the Facilities for Illness Management and Prevention.

Abuse of heroin, oxycodone and the like cuts throughout all lessons, all incomes. In October, President Donald Trump declared an opioid epidemic a nationwide well being emergency.

On common, 91 People die every day on account of an opioid overdose. Lopez says his greatest good friend bought hooked on heroin in eighth grade.

“Medicine are an enormous drawback in my space of New Jersey,” Lopez mentioned. “I by no means need to undergo any of that once more. I noticed issues I can not actually take again. It is nonetheless there behind my thoughts.”

It’s at this level a promising younger grownup along with his entire life forward has to think about what’s going to all the time be part of him.

“I noticed every little thing,” Lopez mentioned. “I noticed my mom overdose twice. The day after my junior promenade, I noticed her on the ground. I came visiting, hungover. I noticed her on the ground. She was not responding. I used to be making an attempt every little thing to wake her up. I referred to as the police. They ended up bringing her again. The second time, police needed to do an inside investigation. She did not get arrested. She had some on her.”

In some way, Tracy remains to be round and in a position to recall — in vivid element — her son’s youth. Too huge for Pop Warner soccer, Thomas gravitated to different sports activities. He beloved baseball, as soon as scooping up a handful of infield grime at Yankee Stadium, pocketing it for a memento. A Chicago Bears’ fan, Lopez as soon as wrote Brian Urlacher submitting a listing of gamers that will assist the Bears win the Tremendous Bowl.

“I actually really feel like Thomas discovered father figures by sports activities, by the years, all these males,” Tracy mentioned. “I knew he needed to get his aggression out someplace.”

Uncle Mark in Staten Island by no means missed Thomas’ highschool video games. His step grandfather turned him on to the Bears.

“A number of instances, I really feel like I used to be right here however I wasn’t current,” Tracy mentioned. “In some way, by all of it, he discovered some nice parenting and sports activities. I consider it saved him.”

Kafaf got here into Lopez’s life by likelihood. The chief vp of the swimwear division of Nautica works with native New Jersey gamers professional bono on their method. Regardless of a robust job, a 1 ½-hour commute into the town and a household of his personal in Truthful Haven, Kafaf helps out of the goodness of his coronary heart.

He tutored five-star stud Rashan Gary at Paramus (N.J.) Catholic; Gary is now at Michigan. Offensive lineman Will Fries was one among 17 freshman to play at Penn State this season. St. Louis Rams linebacker Garrett Sickels is from close by Purple Financial institution.

Kafaf contends Penn State coach James Franklin would rent him proper now if there was a gap. However this a vocation that has lasted 9 years. All Kafaf costs is a hat from the school his pupils select.

“In case you’re dedicated, I am going to work with you,” Kafaf informed Lopez. “However this is the knock on you: I hear you are weak. I hear you are smooth. I hear you do not need it. I hear you do not have coronary heart. If that is what you need, go play the flute.”

Certainly, Lopez injured his shoulder early on. What Kafaf says was Crohn’s Illness triggered Lopez to drop extra pounds.

When the kid help ran out that month, Lopez lastly broke down and informed Kafaf his state of affairs. The pair shortly bought within the automotive and went to the native grocery store.

“Purchase no matter you need,” Kafaf informed him. “If that ever occurs to you once more, you name me. Do not go hungry.”

Heintz remembers being stunned by the grocery supply. “Thomas is available in with all these packages — groceries, steak, meals. I mentioned, ‘What are you telling this man that he introduced you all this meals?’ I used to be mortified.”

Thomas’ abdomen was happy, for the second. These motherless Mom’s Days by no means appear to finish. Kafaf recalled one among Lopez’s personal highschool teammates teasing about his mom being an addict.

“I pulled the child apart,” Kafaf mentioned. “http://ift.tt/2DzDu9V do not know who you suppose you might be. In my eyes, you are a chunk of shit. I do not ever need to hear it once more.”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM;

Kafaf is not significantly non secular. However like everybody round Lopez, he does appear to have that gene concerning drowning victims.

“I make good coin at my job,” he mentioned. “For instance I begin charging these youngsters $150 an hour for a session. So now I get some wealthy child with some wealthy mother and father who’re nutty …

“Then I do not get a Thomas Lopez. I do not get, on my final dying day, closing my eyes saying I made a distinction on this planet.”

That is why Thomas Lopez’s story is everybody’s enterprise. We have to know one of many fundamentals of frequent human decency.

“He loves his mom dearly,” Kafaf mentioned.

require.config();

from Usa Trending Sports – NFL | NCAA | NBA | MLB | NASCAR | UFC | WWE http://ift.tt/2GjzWKM

[asryakino]

Bowden’s Cure ch.3

"Confirm it." Captain Cassian's voice was icy. The trembling female was passed off like some sack of tubers to Jakar. The darker man was much more gentle with her but no less firm. He set her on her feet with a strong hand held to her small torso as support as he led her to medical. The Startear's medical bay contained some of the most advanced Terran and non-Terran medical technology as well as Mepha - one of its few non-Terran crewmembers. With walls of impressive-looking bioprinters, scanners, and various other production machines that whirred, beeped, and seemed to be in constant use despite the overall healthy nature of the current crew.

Confirmation was nothing but a way to keep messy, ugly things like paperwork in order. Cassian had no question of the identity of the escaped pincushion. She'd damn near cost him everything when she'd gotten out of containment. Five lost to direct contamination, a dozen more to quarantine, and the oversite board becoming increasingly persistent about their damned bureaucratic trocq. Cassian could still recall the fallout clearly, and the looming losses in the event of failure. Something he was not willing to accept.

-----------------

If an ancient Terran had dreamed up the Sera'phar'im no one would have questioned it. Though it eventually came out that the Sera had simply discovered the planet after becoming spaceborne themselves. Finding it primitive, full of rowdy, noisy apes who seemed to stare at the skies more than they observed their own world- they had no interest in leaving it alone. Before the Gaarth had arrived the Sera had left their mark on the developing cultures, going so far as to return over and over throughout the ages to see how their little stone-bound pets were developing. Their images dotted the entire planet in various forms becoming powerful symbols of everything from death, war, and destruction to love, devotion and purity. One extreme was slightly more true than the other. Tainted by the interference, Terrans, especially High Terrans, found themselves in awe of Sera'phar'im, often without a solid understanding of why the race created such primal reactions. But, when compared to the ancient texts concerning the Terran concept of 'angels', said reactions made more sense.

Stepping into Startear's medical bay was as good as stepping into another world. One filled with constant activity that the necessity of which could, and should, be questioned. Jakar didn't like the ships medical officer. Seras bothered him at the best of times and the one employed by Captain Cassian always unsettled him more than others of the species. That unsettled feeling was justified.

Mepha made a brilliant medical engineer. Boundless knowledge paired with incredibly sensitive senses allowed the being to diagnose various forms of illness and research biological medicine with ease. Meph themself had been on the Atlemarian project for as long as the Terran scientists had been. She had followed their interest and advancements and eventually took an interest in the unique prion disease and it's devastating effects on every organic species it came in contact with. It was an absolutely fascinating subject. Jakar stiffened his shoulders as he entered into the gleaming medical bay with his escorted guest. "Mepha. The captain wan-" The speed and sudden appearance of the massive wing-like appendages startled him as they surrounded the pale blue figure. He felt her get snatched out of his grasp, and the odd fluttering sound Mephas 'wings' made sent shivers down the helmsman's spine.

They wrapped around the smaller figure and a cooing, dual-toned voice emerged from within the flurry of activity. "My favourite little 'Maran has come home again. Oh I'd know that scent -anywhere-. You'd never hide it from me…" Mephas arms were just a little too long, her legs just a little uncannily slender. The wiry body held a terrifying air of strength and the Seras' features were just a little too wrong to be Terran. As if Mepha had been a Terran and had been poked, stretched, and adjusted here and there. Eyes that were too bright, too alert, and features that were too pretty to look at for long. But the wings… looking at them from a distance they were magnificent and impressive. Easily twice the size of her main body, gleaming and covered in what appeared to be white feathers. The reality was revealed every time the predatory species was on the hunt. The wings, which could be used for short gliding were actually covered in hundreds and thousands of sensitive sensory organs. Flaring them open revealed hundreds of larger light and chemical sensory organs that looked like disembodied eyes. The white 'feathers' were tactile sensory organs. The main body of Sera'phra'im seemed to exist to deceive other species by mimicry as the eyes were effectively blind to several wavelengths of light, limited even by Terran standards. "You reek of a dozen species and more. No one cared for your balanced needs." Mepha's dual-layered voice was irritated. "We will have to ensure you are properly decontaminated. I don't appreciate all the nasty, ugly things you've been putting in my body." She tugged the small Atlemarian around by her arms, yanking her somewhat violently from one machine to the next in some kind of unknowable dance. Each time the pair stopped at another machine, something would ping, ding, or beep. Several times the tiny female would yelp in what sounded like pain. The sounds chilled Jakar's core, but he was more relieved that the Sera wasn't interested in -him-. "So it's confirmed to be the escaped subject." "Yes yes! Fine, tell Cassian I've confirmed her identity. As if I couldn't have confirmed it from a klik away. Yes. Fine, now…" Mepha was quite suddenly across the room, one long arm outstretched and holding a vainly squirming female by the head against one of the scanner machined. The eyes that stared too long focused terrifyingly on the Terran. Her other hand planted against his chest, talon-like nails prickling at the skin under his uniform through the material. "Get. Out." She shoved, sending him off balance and having to quickly correct himself. The medical bay doors slammed shut, and a two-toned shriek could be heard just as they sealed. "So much to ge-" Jakar didn't wait around, he ran a hand through his mussed up hair to smooth it back down before returning to the Captain.

-------------------------

[asryakino]

The Coat of Thomas Bowden

When one is a functionally immortal being, one tends to have many identities over the fascinatingly long time one lives. Some identities are stronger than others. But the urge to remake oneself now and then is hardly a Terran thing. It's evolution in its simplest form. To change, to adapt, to become new with new information. Many G'aarth find themselves the subject of legendary stories to the planets they visit in their younger times. Many of those versions of themselves they would rather have erased from history. Yet history has an odd way of remaining, despite attempts to erase it entirely. Someone will always find something of it. Though the context will be lost, and so will the meaning.

The infamous space faring crew of a Polaris class G'aarth ship has such a story. A sordid tale of a being that has a history, a voice, and an entire wing dedicated to it on several planets. Yet it doesn't obviously live. It doesn't breathe. But it is as alive as the owner's reputation. The coat of Thomas Bowden.

A handful of such objects exist within the universe. To Terrans "The Crown Jewels" brings up an image of a conquering nation. For Delothans "Jibly's Hat" reminds them of their moral centres.  So such items exist within their own stories, references, and the like. Though their original owners have passed on into legendary infamy. Thomas Bowden's Coat, however, exists alongside its owner to current time. And so it carries a distinguished place among such items of the universe.

Ages past, when the small blue Terran planet had only been visited rarely by other races, and had been passed up by most G'aarth, a particular being took interest in the babbling little planet. On radars, the marble floating around it's central star was only just beginning to extend its technology. Snippets of primitive radio transmission drifted from it like wisps of smoke, though below on its surface technology was still largely rare. At the time, The ship was still Polaris and its captain was known, in the tradition, as Polaris. The ship touched down, old, filled with ancient wisdom, and bearing its current sole occupant.

The being was one of the more prolific progenetators of technology. He enjoyed visiting budding planets and aiding them in exploring the stars. Among his own he was considered somewhat strange for it. Recklessly aiding races to reach higher than they may be ready for. But he, oddly for the race, was lonely among the darkness. There was so much space, and so few among it to visit. He enjoyed filling those empty places with life. So the budding planet of terrifyingly adaptive life forms, who were reaching, even if they were failing, for the skies.

He wanted to see how they were. He did enjoy good neighbors better than foul ones. He found a large track of land to touch upon and emerge from the ship. Broad, his plates a deep indigo-purple and bearing only the barest resemblence to an overly large terran. With two large primary arms, and a pair of smaller, secondary limbs that often remained out of the way he began traveling through the mountainous terrain. He was always careful to not be found by the native people unless necessary, staying to the edges of settlements, avoiding the strays he met along the way. But he enjoyed watching them from afar. They raided each other, they loved each other. They fought, and adapted. They ruled, were cruel and kind. They were capable of -so- much. He saw frightening weapons being developed. But for each horror the budding race created, they made other advancements. Being what he was, and how he was, mostly he walked. Striding in the shadows of the bipedal race. Now and then he would hear of them creating stories about him. Large mysterious creature in the mountains, woods, swamp… the bits he heard being developed into cryptic beings made him laugh. They gave him some pause, however. Knowing that they feared and respected this being. But he had seen how these odd little  creatures treated the things they feared. And so, he was in no hurry to reveal his presence beyond one or two beings now and then.

The era he eventually found himself observing had large swaths of land being taken over by the spread of these interesting little primates. He had been following the progress of one area in particular that resided in a mountainous area one one of the larger land masses. The Terrans there herded large numbers of animals and had been passing through the area Polaris has chosen to observe from. Yet, the night a severe storm arrived, the lightning, flooding, and winds forced him from his position. A misstep caused an accident, and the massive purple alien found himself injured, oozing dark ichor from several wounds, and washed downriver to a water mill to be discovered by the owner.

Terrans may not always have the most glowing reputation upon meeting The New but some are much better about new things than others. The owner of this mill was one of those glowing humans who, seeing something strange, monstrous, and downright alien didn't treat the being with disdain and fear but saw the distress it was in and took it in. And so, Polaris met the first Thomas Bowden.

[asryakino]

The Cure - A Tale from The Thomas Bowden

It had been more than five full Berion Cycles since the Thomas Bowden had been able to rest her engines. Five full cycles since they had stopped moving at nearly full speed with the engines near melting. 

"How long will it take to do the damned repairs?" 

"Sixteen cycles."

"Sixteen?!"

"I can't repair anything that's hot enough to melt my face off. We have to cool down before I can even -start- repairing the damage. And then, it'll take me a few cycles to do that. And that's even if I have all the parts I need Bowden!" The engineer's form lost its shape for just a split moment, before regaining their composure. 

"We haven't been able to shake the damn ship for more than ten in the past decta." The stress was beginning to show on the usually somber captain's face plates, his mandibles clicked together when he paused and the secondary arms he often kept folded under the ugly coat he always wore were shifting, flexing, and grasping at each other. 

"Captain, the crew is exhausted. The ship desperately needs repair. And you're going to molt if you get any more stressed. We NEED to rest."

"I know." He insisted, snapping his mandibles more sharply than he'd intended. Making the engineer startle briefly. Apologetically, he ran a hand across the chitinous plates along his head. "I know…" He said more gently. "I'll buy us as much time as I can."

------------

"Five cycles at nearly full speed. Their engines should be near capacity at that point. That model's only build for short bursts, not extended run." The helmsman declared back toward the captain. "Should we close in Sir?"

"Not yet, if they're still willing to run at that speed, they aren't finished yet. Fall back, let them catch their breath for a bit. We have time yet, and they're running out of it. When was their last stop?"

"Three docyces ago. They stopped at the Balda'roon station, we picked up pursuit within ten cycles." 

"Not enough time for a resupply and repair, but enough for a refuel then."

"Yes Sir. Confirmed with the Dock Supervisor they fully fueled, but couldn't complete repairs."

"That's fine. Where's the nearest gate."

"At current speed, they'll be within the Agralex gate in another…" He trailed off briefly, tapping something into the display. "Eight cycles. If their engines are modified."

"It's The Bowden, Helmsman Jakar. That ship is modified." Captain Hasser stated matter-of-factly. "Drop back, give them some space, and alert the crew to rest up. We'll pick back up in three cycles."

"They'll be able to put a fair distance between us at that timing, Sir."

"It's fine. This is a marathon, not a sprint." The Helmsman looked confused at the phrase. "It's an old saying from Terra." Hasser explained. "It means we're built for endurance."

----------

"They've dropped back again." Fakeer announced from her display. "Falling back… I think they've stopped."

"Don't buy into it. Keep going. Put as much distance between us as possible. How far away is Agralax?"

"Eight more cycles, Captain." She warbled.

"We can't gate in this condition, we'd arrive at the other side with no engines at all!" Tyran's form lost it's composure and for a moment looked as though they would simply turn into a multi-hued puddle.

"Easy… easy. I know that. But there's a repair base three cycles toward Havalik from there. If we get enough distance, we can  stop there and try to get some of these repairs done."

Tyran quivered in place, then made an affirmative gesture. "Understood." They slid back to Engineering.

Fakeer focused on her console. "Captain…" She kept her shoulders squared, watching the indicator of their pursuing ship get further away. "Who, exactly, is chasing us and why?"

"I wish I knew. Could be anyone from any number of systems." His purple and indigo plates shifted into what was could have been a prideful expression, if it hadn't been so weary. "It happens when you're a notorious band of pirates."

"We aren't pirates, sir." Fakeer tilted her head up in an amused motion, but exhaustion had robbed her of the genuine expression. "We're Outlaws…? Well we're not pirates."

Bowden chuckled, an odd sort of sound from the man. "I believe that means I'm right, Fakeer." He jested. His tone softened. "Just hold on a bit longer. We'll get some rest as soon as we can."

Silence hung for a thick second between the pair on the bridge before being broken.

"I wish I could believe that, Captain."

-------------

"It's not even a military ship! It has no military or mercenary insignia! Captain WHO DID YOU PISS OFF?!" Kitani's voice turned upwardly shrill in her frustration, the vibrant comb of feathers along the back of her head flared in agitation. "It's huge, it's fast, it's expensive and it hasn't stopped chasing us for over a decta! A DECTA CAPTAIN!" Again her voice went just this side of shrill, making Bowden's mandibles twitch in a grimace.

"Hell if I know, Kitani. If I knew, I'd be more willing to stop, let them catch up, and talk to them. But It seems ill-advised when you can't find anything out about it and you can't stop long enough to figure it out. "And easy on the tone, Kit." He tried to laugh it off, but even he was feeling the effects of the constant pursuit by now. 

The feathered helms pilot made a disgruntled noise in her throat and turned back to her console, ruffled. "Fakeer's course is still the best, engines are still too hot to do… well pretty much anything. And Tyran says if we don't cool them down we'll lose them anyway, even with the modifications. They sounded pretty mad too."

Bowden picked at a loose bit of chiton at his jaw idly and flicked it away. 

"Yeah, they usually are. We're what? A cycle away from the base?""We're a cycle away from Agrilax Gate."

"And our friends?"

"Not on screen, but our long-range is still out, so they could be anywhere as far as we'd know. We're all but blind."

"That's fine. Keep heading toward Havalik, straight on, you'll know the base when you see it."

"If you say so…" 

He's been awake for far, far too many cycles. Everyone had been on high alert since they noticed their tail two systems ago. Bowden himself had been awake at -least- three docyce. And if he slept at all it hadn't been more than three or four cycles at best. 

Fakeer had brought up that his decision making skills may be in question. She knew the Agralax system, even Kitani knew it fairly well. And there was no base they knew of anywhere even close to where Bowden was directing them. 

Flying blind with no long range communication or sensors, engines running so hot they were ready to melt, a powder keg of exhausted shipmates from across a dozen planetary systems being led by a captain who hadn't slept…

Kitani and Fakeer were worried about a mutiny. 

Or worse. 

"Bring up a sensor reading?" Bowden's voice sounded haggard, the tones shifting between irritation and something Kitani couldn't quite identify. 

"Sure…" She obliged, showing a display screen of the system, the rings of Agrilax visible only barely, while the giant, distant form of Havalik loomed, encircled by it's moons and trapped objects. Agrilax might host the most life in the system, but Havalik was much  more impressive.

"Perfect. Send a distress signal, pulse it twice." Kitani looked at him in confusion, the man's eyes were focused on the display, but there was a hard-to-pin emotion in his body language. Anxiety? 

Anticipation? 

Desperation? 

Worry.

Kitani opened the short range communication relay and sent out two quick distress signals.

The air on the Pilot's deck was thick. Kitani realized it only when her chest hurt that she'd held her breath, mimicking the large Captain who's eyes were locked on the visual display.

"There!" His smaller, secondary arms thrust forward, as if he could grasp at the display itself, his large hands locked tightly on the back of Kitani's console seat. "Thank fuck."

She didn't see anything at first, just the massive gas giant and it's numerous moons. But as if breaking away from the flock, one of the smaller objects seemed to be moving away from the field of moons and asteroids. 

"Thank fuck…" The captain breathed out a long, low held breath. "They're still there. Had me worried for a minute."

"Cap… tain?" Kitani couldn't quite believe it. But sure enough, a massive colony-sized station had hidden itself among the gas giant's orbiting children and it seemed to be responding to the distress signal.

"Signal them again, then head for that station, Kitani. I've got good news for the crew."

She quickly signaled the distress call twice more, and watched as the response flew out of the base in the form of a dozen small tow ships.

Bowden grabbed the ship's all alert. Putting on his Captain face and voice, despite looking so haggard. 

"Congrats everyone. We're home for a while. We're ten cycles ahead of our new friends and about to hit up an old friend. Aqua, report to the top deck. Everyone else, breathe a bit, and stand down. We're getting a tow in. Tyran, get a list of everything you need. Everyone else, be ready to disembark in… one and a half cycles."

With the message sent, inner ship comms lit up as crew started talking almost all at once. Bowden collapsed back into his console with an exhausted sigh. 

"Damn. That would have been embarrassing if they'd been collected."

"Captain… where exactly are we?"

----------------

It was populated with thousands and thousands of robots. Repair robots, scrapped together droids, cleaner bots, welding robos, builders, every type one could imagine. Even massive mining robotics on sledges, and all of it looked like it was pieced together by children.

An artificial colony of artificial lifeforms from around the galaxy. Outmodes, scrap, thrown away, and any other form of abused mechanical life form, all joined together in a base where they could exist on their own. 

When the ship docked they were greeted by an unskinned escort droid. Her shiny metal exterior, while patched in places, was well taken care of. It was the same for almost every occupant the crew passed. 

"Welcome to Bow's Den. I'm Tomi."

Aquatani spun on the purple captain. "-Really- Bowden?"

He shrugged innocently. "In my defense, I didn't name it."

"I did." Claimed the bot, matter-of-factly. "I thought it was clever."

All four of Bowden's arms pointed toward the shiny former escort droid. "See? I'm innocent."

Without missing a beat she responded. "That's untrue. But welcome to the Den all the same." She peered past him at the sleek exterior of the aged G'aarth ship. And her tone dropped almost imperceptivity. " Now, what have you done to the ship, Bowden?"

"He's been running her ragged!" Tyran's multi-coloured amorphous form wiggled out of the ship and right toward the shiny robot. Shifting their shape around until they solidified four legs to walk on and a torso to hold the portable display out. "We've been running at nearly full speed for a hundred cycles and she needs to rest"

"It hasn't been a hundred cycles." Bowden huffed under his breath. "…yet."

Tyran ignored him, and was escorted away by Tomi, ranting about how abused the ship was by 'the purple beast' while Tomi shot accusatory glances back at the four-armed captain. 

He ignored them, looking over the mismatch of crew that had managed to file out of the ship. Raising his voice to be heard over the muddled din of twenty or so crewmembers, he addressed them. Though now he didn't bother to hide the tiredness in his voice, as it was written in every aspect of his hulking frame; that was, for once, free of the overlarge coat he usually wore. 

"Alright You!" The crew fell into respectful quiet, around them the mechanical sounds of bots crawling over, under, and around the bedraggled ship turned into background clanging. "We aren't that far ahead of our new friends. A few cycles of rest, recuperation, and repair is all we can afford right now. So, here's what we know. They are persistent. They have our ship flagged, and they aren't mercs, military, or merchants." He paused, then barked. "Fakeer."

The short bark of her name grabbed the attention of the black and red half of the piloting team. She produced a light display, throwing up a visual scan of the offending ship while he continued.

"It's high end; almost twice our size, and carries no identifying insignia on its hull. We couldn't get enough signal to decode its ID broadcast because the bastards focus targeted our long-range array after we pegged them for tailing us. At least two of the crew are Terran or at least of Terran-descent… Aqua caught an image of them just after they made her at the refueling station."

The image of the ship was replaced with an eyeframe shot of a male and female dressed in sleek official-looking uniforms.

"For once in my life, I have no fucking clue who these people are. The ship's unknown, and while I've done a -whole- lot of things worthy of being chased across five systems without pause; I usually remember the people I did it to. Which means…" His weary eyes traveled over the beleaguered cast of his crew. "This particular skeleton has escaped from one of your closets. Start thinking back and figure out who you pissed off in your past lives. Because we're done running. Literally. We can't run anymore. We have maybe twelve cycles before they catch up to us and that's only if they make a wrong turn at Agrilax and head for Vermi instead of Havalik. Which I doubt they're gonna do."

Exhaustion settled over his shoulders, dropping his head and making the powerful captain look his not unimpressive age. It was a surprising show of weakness that most of the crew had never seen. Aquatani stepped up to his side, taking his large hand in her own supportingly as a good second should. 

"Look, no one's on this crew and in this ship because we're Lilly white and Simon pure. If any of you recognize these assholes, speak up. If not to me, tell Aqua. I don't care what or who it was; I don't care when or what you did. But I need to know what I'm up against, so we can stand shoulder to shoulder and either run to the edge of the galaxy or start pulling arms out of sockets. And I'm fucking tired," He waved a hand over the crew as a whole. "…we all are."

Faces turned toward faces, each crewmember looking from one to the other for a hint of recognition among them. No one spoke up, but a silent agreement fell between them all that the situation was bad.

"Now that we're all aware of how sufficiently fucked we are. Go stretch your legs and figure out who the fuck is on our ass. Ask the bots for directions." He grumbled lowly. "I'm gonna go hit the damn spa." The lumbering form of the captain turned and picked his way past clamours of bots, followed by Aqua until he waved her off, leaving her to return to the crew. 

A small compliment of robots approached, offering to lead the way to the barracks so the crew could rest and talk. Several voices speculated with one another over who they may have angered. And before long a betting pool opened up on who's fault it was. 

Despite the grumbling between them, an unspoken solidarity remained. The crew of the Thomas Bowden was a family. Like siblings in a nest, they could fight each other. And now and then had damn near killed one another in various fights over various reasons. 

If they wanted to kick the ass of a deserving crewmate? They'd do so. But some stranger threatening their beloved sibling? Twenty plus crewmates from a dozen planetary systems and a four-armed Gaarth captain would be happy to show them the nearest supernova. 

---------------------

 Sure enough, tacking on some speed caught the trailing ship to the planetary gate. Cassian Hassen eyed the display. 

"So… Havalik or Vermi?"

"Sir?"

"Do you think they aimed for Havalik? Or perhaps Vermi?"

"The Havalik orbital cloud is closer right now. Vermi's currently in it's elliptical peak on the other side of the system." The helmsman offered. 

"Head for the gas giant then."

"Sir, why did you let them get such a long head start? Isn't there a chance they'll have repaired their ship by now?"

"Undoubtedly. I'm counting on their long range communications array to be functional by now. But I don't care if they have the best mechanics this side of the spiral, their engine damage won't be repaired."

"Sir?"

"If I'm right, what we want will be waiting for us. Send a communication to the Bowden as soon as we're in range of her long range array. If I'm right, you'll get an affirmative as soon as you send it."

"Yes Sir." Jakar remained confused, but trusted the Captain's orders. It was his ship after all. And he'd been right about everything up to now.

-----------

The long range comms picked up the larger ship only a few moments before the communication request came in. Nev just happened to be at the controls, calibrating the engines with Tyran when it came through. He send the request right back to the ship. 

Everyone had gotten at least six cycles of rest, most had been working on various repair, cleaning, or research. And Bowden, refreshed after a full nine had a chat with a few potential targets among the crew. He'd also put more than a few credits in the pool, his chits were on Del having pissed off some Terran high house. 

Del, to his credit, wasn't positive it wasn't his fault. 

The situation was still bothering Bowden, however, as something still didn't add up. That was when Mariele approached him.

"Captain?" The quiet voice interrupted his thoughts, the return comms signal had already gone through, and he was brushing off the signature coat. It took him longer than he would have admitted to realize where the quiet, unassuming voice came from. 

Mariele rarely spoke. In fact, he could barely recall a time he'd heard more than a hundred words from her in the entire pont she'd been on the ship. 

"Mari." He answered shortly, then looked at her. She was frightened.

No, she was terrified. His plates knitted together and he bent down to be just a bit closer to eye level. "What happened?"

"I think it's my fault." Came the quiet, terrified response. 

Well, that got all of his neurons firing. He raised a hand, signaling to Nev with a snap. A wordless signal to get his second in command on deck -now-.

"Mariele… what makes you think they're targeting you?" The old captain's brain was firing left, right and centre trying to place where they'd picked the blue-skinned Terranform. Some off spiral supply station? She'd been some stowaway on a cargo ship…

"Captain." The short response came from his right side.

"Aqua, Mariele seems to think our new friends may be her old friends. Thoughts?" 

By this point the blue-skinned and crystal eyed former stowaway looked as though she was going to shake herself to pieces on the main deck. Aquatani looked her over, smiled gently and seemed to regard her for several drops. 

"It may be possible, Captain. But the pool is still in Del's favour." The weak attempt at humour made Bowden stand just a tick stiffer. 

"Get everyone on board. Nev, finish those calibrations while we're idle, disengage from the base and send them on their way." Things were lining up in Bowden's mind. He turned, a little sharper than he intended to, toward the terrified form of the ship's assistant medic. 

"I'll say again, whatever happened, I don't care about specifics. That's a past life. However." He bent his overly large frame, seemingly larger now that he'd put the ugly brown coat back on. "You're shaking worse than a leaf in a devil wind, Mariele. I won't ask but one question. Did you tell Aqua?"

His second looked to him, Mariele looked shocked and, somehow, more frightened. Which told him everything he needed. He nodded shortly. "That's all I need. Aqua, I expect a full report -later-." He emphasized, then stood back to his full height. A hand went down on the innership comms console. 

"All crew, get your asses back on the Bowden. Now."

The false asteroid was floating away not even a cycle later, lost to the orbital cloud field and cloaked among the debris by the time the larger ship came into the ship's visual range. She was scuffed, tired, and old. But she was patiently waiting. So when the short range comms pinged with an open request, Bowden was ready to answer. 

On the screen a half dozen Terrans were poised at various positions. All slicked hair, multi-coloured private industry uniforms, and uninterested expressions. A sharp contrast to the distinctly inTerran crew consisting of: a purple, four-armed Gaarth captain; a skinny brown six-armed Klaxon navigation; a Terran-shaped android with blue covering and short white hair; and a pair of avian-like crewmembers in black/red and white.

Neither crew looked particularly happy, though both captains wore vaguely acceptable neutral expressions.  

"Greetings to you Polaris. Have we finished our game of tag?"  Captain Hasser smirked. "Bit of engine trouble caused a slowdown, I suspect?" He allowed a smug twitch of his lip. "I have business with you Bowden, concerning a rather dangerous cargo you're carrying."

"We're not a cargo ship, and you're being a bit rude, Captain. Seeing as you know me and mine, but didn't introduce yourself and your blind ship."

The Terran seemed briefly insulted, or surprised. "Right. I did get a bit ahead of myself. My most sincere apologies, you must understand. Tales of your ship and crew do spread to the far systems from one arm to the next." He gave a short bow at the waist, the bare minimum of Captain-to-Captain respect. "I'm Cassian Hasser, Captain of the Startear. We'll speak more in person, Captain Bowden. I really am quite honoured to meet you face-to-face."

He didn't allow a response, cutting the communication even as the smaller ship shook from the impact of tow cables.

Bowden made a rude grunt in his throat before hitting the innership comms. 

"Crew, lock down in bunks. Essential crew to the top deck. We're being boarded."

---------------------

"Welcome aboard. Captain Cassian." Bowden didn't hide his displeasure at the Terran man's actions. But neither was he hostile. It was simply the proud demeanor of a leader who didn't appreciate the invasion of another. 

Cassian, on the other hand showed and gave off no air of ill will. Only the apparent unearned superiourity of most Terran high races

"I've no fight with you, Captain Bowden. Just the opposite. I've grown up hearing the tales of you, your ship, and your crew. It's inspired countless others to take up a helm into the stars."

"So you ran us into the dirt for nearly four docyce because of… admiration? Most just send a card. Some send explosives." Bowden gave his mimic of a Terran smile. His mandibles never -quite- getting the shape right, so it came across as nearly threatening. 

"Not at all." Cassian looked upward at the (In)famous captain. "But you're carrying an Atlemarian." He stated simply with finality.

Bowden stopped briefly. That statement threw him. "Do I look like the kind of man who would put myself, my crew, and every port I've ever been to in that kind of danger? There's no Atlemarians on this ship."

If Bowden ever dealt in positives. This was the one thing even he knew.

Atlemaria was a plagued world. Quarantined for generations now with the only surviving populations being deformed by plague scars. An interstellar prion disease that had ravaged three star systems before being contained via extreme measures. He'd seen the pain and suffering the Atlemarian disease had caused, the lives it had ripped down. 

"Terrifying. Isn't it?" Cassian's voice broke through Bowden's moment of thought. The Gaarth's eyes landed on, and narrowed at, the Terran Captain. 

"Not really. Since there's no such passenger on this ship. I keep extremely precise manifests, you're welcome to look them over." He shot back shortly. His secondary arms, folded under the ugly brown coat began to open. Aqua moved a half step closer to him, discreetly pressing her elbow into his hip. 

"I'll have a look. But while I inspect the manifest, my crew will search her out." A gloved hand lifted, sending two lines of Terran crew strode across the barrier and began making their way to the crew decks with an uncomfortable familiarity. "It won't take long, I assure you." That smug tone infuriated Bowden more than anything. More than the everlasting chase, the stress, and the capture. Just that High Terran smugness that he hated -so- much. 

Bowden's mandibles clicked slightly. He lifted a hand toward Fakeer, who delivered the manifest log in a tense handoff to the man. 

"Who, precisely are you with? If you don't mind my asking. If the situation was this important, why go through all…" He motioned glibly with one large purple hand, eyeing the bold man. 

"I'm a privately interested party. We're researching the disease itself in search of a cure."

"There is no cure. They've sought one for six generations and-"

"Not yet. There isn't." Cassian interrupted. "But there is hope for one. Specifically in the 'Marian you've been unwittingly trafficking."

"And I'm telling you I've never picked anyone up from that arm of th-." Bowden was growing annoyed, his hand balled tightly and resting on the back of his console.

A high-pitched, terrified yelp broke through his defense and he turned sharply. 

Bowden wasn't the only one to respond in defense of the terrified noise his medical assistant had made. He heard the distinct sound of four barrack doors open, and had to bark out a sharp "Quarters!" before Mariele's 'siblings' came out. The last thing he needed was a pissed off Deloth male trying to rip the arms off a dozen Terrans. 

He straightened up, as if he'd suddenly had a quasar steel rod implanted in his back. The doors slid shut. One. Two. Three.

He turned to Aqua sharply. Who stalked, stiffly and straight, down the barracks.

Four.

Slowly he turned toward Cassian. Who, even if only briefly, seemed to realize -something- had been averted. Though he maintained the façade of being correct in his actions. 

Bowden carefully cleared his throat, Mariele was escorted to the ship-to-ship barrier by three Terrans who stood around her. He could see her. Unhurt, but shaking.

He turned pointedly toward Hesser. "You seem to have mistaken my Glaxian medical assistant for your missing 'Marian plague victim, Captain. Considering her state of. A-hem, dress when we found her discarded with the rotten cargo, I can assure you, personally, she has no Atlemarian disease scars, or signs of ever having been to any affected planet in the Aquallous Arm."

He squared his shoulders, rolling the tightened muscle down and discreetly shifting the tension down his smaller support arms, still folded tightly under the oversized coat. He tried to relax his expression, attempting to play off the mistake as some kind of joke. 

"Though I can see how, to a high Terran eyes, Glaxian and Atlemarians could look alike. I would suggest you release our medical assistant back into our care, since you're clearly mistaken." There was an edge to his tone. An edge that in the past had turned such smug men of multiple races into jelly-kneed apologists. A tone that promised the dislocation of several important body parts. 

A tone that did not fuck around. 

And it fell flat on the Terran man. Who eyed Bowden, then casually passed the manifest log forward, holding it out as simply as if he had merely borrowed a tissue. "This is why we didn't simply attack you. To give her time to come to her senses. To realize who we were. To inform -you- of the truth, and do the right thing. A shame that the selfish creature has allowed you to live so ignorantly on your own ship, Captain Bowden. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you. But this woman…" 

Cassian reached blindly toward Mariele, snatching her wrist and pulled her forward, holding her up until her limbs were stretched out and she was balanced on her toes alone. He thrust her forward. "Has lied to you since day. One. Had we attacked, you would have defended her to your own last life. And no one should die for the lies of another. We tracked her after she escaped the quarantine zone on a supply crate. It took nearly a full urt to find out she had hidden away on -your- ship." He frowns sourly. "A ship that is so well known, so well protected, and so infamous that attacking without retaliation would be impossible. Sneaking aboard would be suicide. And simply requesting you turn her over would be fruitless."

Bowden's body tensed. Had Aqua not returned and firmly lay a hand on his arm to physically remind him of what was at risk, he would have lunged forward and begun relieving the Terran man of his digits. 

"Tell him." Cassian hissed. "Are you an Atlemarian?"

Mariele flinched, tears welled in her crystal clear eyes, her head nodded silently, tension leaving her body as a quiet sob caught in her chest. 

"My… name… is J'mari L'emuin… n-not Mariele J'nai." The small voice managed to hiccup out the name. Aquatani's hand gripped to Bowden's forearm in silent affirmation.

Bowden's shoulders remained tense, even as he inhaled slowly. 

Cassian lowered the tiny woman until she was flat on her feet, shifting his grip to her shoulder. 

"Why?" It was all Bowden could manage. A single word that held a dozen questions. Both for the Terran, and his formerly trusted crewmate. 

"Why… doesn't she have scars? Why hasn't anyone ever gotten sick, if she's been exposed to infection? Why did she flee the quarantine zone?" Cassian eyed the massive Gaarth with the self-assurance born of having answers. Why did she come to your ship of all the ships she could have escaped to?"

Bowden nodded mutely, his face plates knitted so tightly across his expression they very nearly formed a mask.

"She's immune." Cassian said shortly, simply. Just as if it were the answer to every question Bowden could ever have.  

"Fucking impossible." Bowden snapped.

"It's true. One of -four- born on the entire planet. Different areas, different families, the exact same immunity. Total protein destruction. Not built immunity. Not an adapted immunity. Neither learned nor medical. Born immune, it can't even incubate in their blood. The rarest blood in the known universe." 

An emotion passed over Bowden. The expression on Cassian's face was changed. His tone only barely masked the excitement he felt, and just barely, a motion that would never have been noticed by another, he squeezed Mariele's wrist. 

"And she ran to the Star Farer himself. The one man in the entire universe who would never question her lie, who would allow her to join without an ounce of hesitation. The one ship in all the arms that she felt could protect her secret. Polaris-class, the most well known ship for nine galaxies, feared by another fifteen. Thomas Bowden and her Captain of the same name."

Conceit oozed from the man as he explained. The self-same superiourity that made Bowden want to rip his smug little arms from their snug little sockets. Self-assured that he had all the answers and could lourde it over everyone on the main deck.

"Over an urt I looked for her. I chose the least violent and safest way to retrieve her. This precious 'Marian child that holds within her the possible cure for the worst disease in the entire universe. Everyone's heard the stories of what you went through facing the disease when your crewmates fell to it. Had you been infected you'd've been locked on the planet with them." 

Bowden remained still. If he was breathing, even Aqua couldn't be sure. To break him free of the apparent spell, she squeezed his tightly coiled arm. 

The squeeze made him inhale sharply. Deep blue eyes focusing suddenly, intently, intensely, on the other captain standing before him, delicate fingers laced around the even more delicate wrist of his medical assistant. He'd heard enough. Tension rolled out of his shoulders and down his back, making his shoulders droop in apparent defeat. His head fell forward and his hands unclenched. Inch by inch, tension and broiling anger rolled away from his posture. 

When he spoke- the Gaarth's voice was as calm as it ever was and nearly emotionless. His eyes focused on his crewmate. He neither raised it in anger, nor lowered it in intimidation. His words were soft, unjudgemental, and seeking only the reassurance of truth. 

"Is what he said true?"

Mariele/J'mari held back the sobs that wanted to wrack her body. She bit back on the tip of her tongue to return his calm that was as deep as any sea. She quivered in the firm hold Hasser had on her shoulder and wrist.

The truth was the only thing she had left. It had been laid out succinctly before everyone. There was more, but the fingers digging subtly into her flesh wouldn't allow more to be said.

"Yes."

Aqua squeezed Bowden's arm once again. He still didn't look up. He didn't speak another word for a long time; nor did it seem he expected anyone to break the silence between those on the tired old ship's deck. 

His shoulders remained limp, and a hand that seemed to move with the weight of a star on it pulled through the fog of his decision and lay atop the comforting and reassuring hand on his arm. 

"I can't risk the Atlemarian Prion being released on my ship. Immune or not, Atlemarian children cannot be welcomed  on this craft. Thank you Captain Cassian for telling me honestly and without malice or desire about the danger to my crew. I wish you luck in your search for a cure."

Mariele's expression fell. She'd betrayed the trust of her captain. Of course he wouldn't defend her. Her voice failed. Words she desperately wanted to shout toward Bowden died in her chest as she saw his defeated shoulders. She betrayed her captain…

Her body lost its will, legs losing the strength to hold her up. Cassian swept her into his arms. Had he been a bit more noble, and a bit less haughty, it would have been a sweet motion.

As he spoke, Cassian gestured with his chin for his crew to leave the ancient Captain's ship. The air had grown so thick Cassian had briefly considered if it could actually storm in such a confined space. 

"Thank you, Captain. The sacrifice you make today shall fuel the world of tomorrow." Captain Hasser swept the smaller woman's form through the connection and back toward his own ship. Within just a couple of moments, the connection was pulled away and the languishing ship was free to float in space as it was. While the larger ship slowly began to turn around. Within a few ticks it had charted a new course and flung itself into space; leaving behind the Thomas Bowden and her somber crew.

They waited. The ship sat silent and still. Subtly, quietly, the computer system chirped away in calculations. When the ship was well out of sensor range, a flurry of activity stirred in her belly. "They're clear. All scans confirm Star Tear is out of range, left nothing behind." Kitani's voice was the first to cut through the thick silence. 

Below, the amorphous Engineer called up. "Engines calibrated."

"Ten…"  Bowden's rumbling voice was sharp, clear, and echoed down from where his head remained bowed in somber contemplation.

All around the deck crew boiled from quarters and to their stations in a frantic and unified front. 

"Nine…" Clatters from various storerooms rose up as the engines began to warm up. "Eight."

No one asked what he was counting down. They knew. 

 "Seven… six…" His head raised up, the expression determined, newly refreshed, and… excited.Around him, crewmembers of all types geared up, some smirking. Some somber.

"Six… five… four…" Now as he counted down, he began moving around the flight deck. 

At the helm, Nev's six limbs dances over consoles, controlling four panels' worth of information effortlessly. While Fakeer and Kitani moved to the barracks deck with a renewed vigor, as if their tail feathers had been lit aflame. 

"Three… two…" Aqua was counting as well, moving with the speed and efficiency of a madwoman on a mission as she struck panels with light touches and sent off messages on the long range communications.

The barracks were filled with heavily armed crewmates. Ready to go to war for their beloved crew member. Ten seconds of a head start were more than some got, and more than others deserved.

Bowden's eyes told of the rage he had broiled down, concentrated into his gut so tightly he could feel his insides roiling against each other as if they would burst any moment. 

As the engines whirred into a new life, the ship rumbled with a renewed purpose. Gunner seats sat empty, but enticing. 

With the new information Bowden had his decision. He would be going to the ends of the universe. 

But before they could pick up the wayward crewmate, there were a few stops they needed to make. Engines hot, the ship took off through the Orbital field.

"One."

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