Scorpio's story

This is another excerpt from the first Zodiac Team book, currently in progress. It's the story of how one of my favourite characters came to join the Team...

"It must be amazing to have worked with a legend," said Scorpio.

"Well, yes it was," admitted Capricorn. "Of course the way we’re going we’ll all be legends too."

There was a pause. "You really think so?" asked Scorpio.

"Oh, undoubtedly," said Capricorn.

Scorpio smiled secretly to herself: not bad for a screw up reject pilot. A legend… she liked the sound of that.

Nearly four years previously, as an UDFEG Air Force Flying Officer, Scorpio had stood before the ornately carved desk of the Flight Colonel, looking like a pupil called to the headmaster’s office. The Colonel had been recalled to active duty a year into his much-awaited retirement and hid his resentment poorly. The young woman in front of him had been waiting in nervous silence for nearly a quarter of an hour while the officer reviewed a large file.

She came to a decision. "Sir, permission to speak, sir."

"Denied," replied the Colonel without looking up.

"Sir, if this is about the refueling problem, I accept full responsibility and-"

The Colonel’s sigh cut her off. He tossed the file aside and steepled his fingers together, fixing her with a piercing gaze.

"Yes, full responsibility," he said. He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Of course you take full responsibility, you always do. Your willingness to take full responsibility for your actions would be highly commendable if it wasn’t the reason you have been bounced out of six squadrons in less than two years!"
She didn’t respond. What could she say to that?

"Officer, you are a damn good flier, one of the best I’ve seen. But you are also a soldier and no amount of natural ability or bravery in the line of fire gives you the right to do whatever the hell you feel like!"

The Colonel paused to let his words sink in. "Since you’ve been in my wing there’s been no end of trouble. Fist-fights in the canteen, rookies out after curfew, accidents, pile-ups, injuries to support personnel. I have had to unruffle feathers from the mess room to the control tower and why? Because of you and your-"

"Sir, I-"

"And you interrupt senior officers!" The Colonel’s voice took on a harsher tone. No longer an exasperated avuncular old man, he was a Colonel, a position earned through courage and sacrifice. Earned the old way. The hard way. And this upstart flyer needed to learn some respect.

"No, Flight Officer, not this time. No appeals, no arguments and I do not wish to hear your side of the story. I am taking the steps that should have been taken by your first commanding officer and dismissing you from the squadron. Understand that? Not a transfer, a dismissal! For the good of the entire Combined Air and Space Arm!"

The pilot stepped backwards in shock, reaching for the chair that she had refused when she had first reported to the Colonel’s office. She sat down, so numb that she almost missed the seat.

"Wha… what do I do now?" she asked, tears springing to her eyes.

The Colonel eyed her coldly. "You can stop your pathetic snivelling for a start. The waterworks won’t sway me. The decision has been made. And as a fully trained fighter pilot you will spend the rest of the war in an internment camp to prevent the rebels turning you into a prize asset. Mavericks like you need to be kept under close scrutiny."

Her tears were real now, although they were of anger. The door of the office swung open, but she was barely aware of the Military Policemen who had clamped a firm hold on her shoulders. She tried one last appeal. "But there must be something I can do," she pleaded. "I’m not a complete write-off!"

The Colonel allowed himself a thin ghost of a smile. "Oh but you are," he said.
---
The month in the internment prison passed excruciatingly slowly. She refused to accept that she had been lumped in with traitors to her race, losers and drop-outs. Within three days she was in solitary for punching a political dissident who had referred to her as a military lackey in the dining hall. She was out for less than a day before a savage revenge beating saw her returned to solitary for her own protection.

Then from out of nowhere came a summons to the Administrator’s office. Eyes glazed due to the calmative drugs administered in her food, she meekly accompanied the armed guards until they took up station on either side of the door. She entered the room and walked over to where the Administrator sat at a desk piled high with unread reports and computer print-outs.

The large woman handed her an envelope wordlessly. It had been opened already, but the contents had been replaced. Inside were call-up papers and an itinerary.

"Looks like you got bailed, missy," remarked the Administrator with a smile.
---
Two days later the troop transport docked at Trans-Lunar, the asteroid that had been ‘parked’ in geo-stationary orbit around Earth’s Moon and turned into an intermediary boarding station for traffic to and from the lunar surface. She was directed by several helpful members of base personnel towards a cluster of domes separated from the main docking facility. One of the domes was a hangar with a sling-shot ship launcher. A Sleeq shuttle sat in the barrel ready to launch.

A petite blonde stood waiting by the entry ramp. Her icy stare immediately precluded any possibility of small-talk.

"You’re late!" snapped the blonde.

"I didn’t know where to find you," replied the newcomer.

"Shut up! Listen, you’re only here because of this." The blonde held up a heavily bandaged hand. "A zarq bullet went straight through it on the drop run. We’re going to be flying the retrieval. It’s hazardous and you might get killed. It’s also highly classified information that we’re even on a retrieval, so if at any point you decide you can’t continue with the mission you will be killed. It’s your choice."

"Retrieval?"

"Four deep insertion ops. Do it right, you can join the Team."

"And if I do it wrong?"

"Just get in the shuttle."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Virgo."

"Like the star-sign?

"Just get in the shuttle."

Much later Scorpio found out the bullet that had passed through Virgo’s hand had come to rest in the neck of her former co-pilot.

She had to admit, reflecting on it, that the years of service together in some of the worst battle zones of the Earth-Palloshan Space War, had caused a strange form of respect to grow between the two of them. But she could never quite decide whether she could forgive Virgo for not telling her that the first retrieval run she performed for the Zodiac Team would be to the Palloshan home-world of Pallo Prime.

This explains Big Brother

Food for thought from Scott Adams:

"My hypothesis for today is that a person’s need for social interaction is inversely related to the quality of his or her imagination. In other words, if you have an excellent imagination, you might enjoy people, but you’re equally happy to be alone with your thoughts for large stretches. To put it bluntly, you fascinate yourself.

A key part of my hypothesis is the assumption that people have widely different powers of imagination. This seems likely. People are all over the map for every other mental ability. Whatever is happening inside the mind of the person with the worst imagination on earth is clearly very different from what’s happening in the mind of the most creative.

Presumably, if you have no imagination whatsoever, you need to get all of your stimulation from the environment, mostly from other people, or at least TV shows about other people. You wouldn’t want to be alone with your thoughts for more than two minutes because your thoughts would bore the living piss out of you."

Scott poses the question: "Do you have an unusually good imagination? If so, do you enjoy being alone more than most people?"

And that does fascinate me. Because for a long time I thought I had difficulty making friends, until I took a Birkman profiling test which showed I was 'selectively sociable' ie I only look to a few people for approval/support. I did another psych test which revealed I was an introvert with extrovert characteristics. So I can get up and speak to a room full of people - but that doesn't make me an extrovert. I recharge my batteries by spending my downtime by myself.

Which presumably is why I can spend hours writing a story in a universe I'm making up off the top of my head and not feel tired, but twenty minutes into my work day in a crowded office and I become Lethargico, the Sloth Superhero.

And it also explains why people who I can only charitably describe as dullards buy Closer magazine*, care about whether D-list celebrities have tan lines, worry over Posh Spice's weight, and will watch the imminent new series of Big Brother.

*it even has the word 'loser' in the title. I mean, come on...

Wembley defeat, but small consolations

"Maybe not going up is for the best."

Less than 24 hours after losing 3-1 at Wembley, the revisionism has kicked in with my little brother leading the charge.

Instead of welcoming fallen giants Leeds United and Nottingham Forest to the new stadium next year, we'll get a trip to the Lancashire seaside to see newcomers Morecambe. But we do have derby games against Wrexham and Hereford which will ensure all 10,000 shiny new seats are sold. And there's an expectation of more than another scrap against relegation.

[And, for the first time ever, Shrewsbury Town led at Wembley. It didn't last long...]

[And, they now hold the record for the quickest goal scored at the new Wembley.]

[And, they had the first player sent off in a compettitive fixture at the new Wembley!]

As a final irony for the weekend, Dave's kickabout on Gay Meadow scheduled for this afternoon was cancelled because of a waterlogged pitch. I laughed.

We played well.

But not well enough.

And those of us who were there,

Were there.

Whether the war paint helped I can't say.

Man flu film reviews

Being off for a few days with a particularly vicious form of man ‘flu meant I’ve watched quite a few films, including quite a few where I had to take the shrinkwrap cellophane off before watching it! So, after Return of the King, Curse of the Were-Rabbit, Beetle Juice and Pirates of the Caribbean, I got onto a couple of films I hadn’t seen before…

Collateral is perhaps the film which proves Tom Cruise can actually act (unless you think the whole ‘Katie had a baby, so I guess Tom's straight’ thing is a diversion). As in Heat, Michael Mann uses the urban wasteland of LA to great effect, with the city effectively the third major character in the film. The ending is a bit contrived, but the plot works and everybody’s favourite Thetan in disguise puts in a great performance as Vincent. Playing against type as a bad guy clearly works for Tom, so hopefully he’ll take on a few more villainous roles.

Jongudmund’s rating: 8/10

Do you remember when pre-recorded videos were expensive and so you taped films off the telly? I revisited those deprived days of yesteryear and watched a film Cath taped back at Christmas. Down with Love is a ‘screwball comedy’ starring Renee Zellweger and Ewan McGregor.

The film’s passable. Ewan McGregor is always good value and David Hyde Pierce is surely one of the most gifted comic actors around, even if he is playing yet another version of Niles Crane. While there are some funny scenes, and some decent dialogue, most of the key scenes are contrived and the performances smelt so much of ham I thought I was in the sandwich meat aisle in Tesco.

The thing which struck me most though, about the film, is that seeing him in thick glasses and a side parting, Ewan McGregor would make a great Clark Kent. Why wasn’t he signed up to play Superman in the limp ‘Returns’? With a knowing smile and a slightly feral glint in his eye, he’d be a fantastic Superman.

Jongudmund’s rating: 5/10

And is it nerdy that when I watched Beetle Juice I recognised Glenn Shaddix's name because he played the Mayor in Nightmare Before Christmas...?

Day out in Worcester

It seems a perilous place, albeit with free parking if you're willing to explore side streets. I got accosted by a slightly intense emotional mugger (you know, pours out his woeful life story, then asks you for cash) who seemed to have stalked us from when we left the SPCK Bookshop.

We had pizzas at a nice Italian restaurant, which a local mouse seemed to like too, because he kept popping up from among the cracks in the floorboards.

Then, much later, outside McDonalds, we witnessed the unfortunate sight of a 'well built' young lady adjusting her short shorts and standing on the street corner in just her thong in the process. Shudder.

The reason we were in Worcester was to see Nizlopi play at the Marr's Bar, a venue described as 'intimate' in the pre-show publicity. That must be 'intimate' as in 'tiny and rammed to the rafters'. It was the third time we've seen the band live, following Greenbelt and the excellent show last year at The Point in Cardiff Bay.

With hit-and-miss support from some random competition winners, it was a great night out. As before, they chose to play a couple of songs out in the audience, which, with the lights down, made the night very special. As an added bonus this time they played 'Clear' with the awesome rhyming couplet of 'shaolin' and 'towel in' (you've got to hear it to get it), which they'd promised us last time but didn't sing.

With the curfew curtailing the gig at midnight, they weren't allowed to do an encore (boooo! to midlands licensing laws!). After braving the aforementioned horrors to get drinks at the home of the golden arches, we drove off into the night, arriving home in the wee small hours, tired but happy.

Smash and Grab

Milton Keynes Dons 1
Andrews 74
Shrewsbury 2
Cooke 58
Cooke 76

That's right folks, next Saturday I'm going to Wem-ber-ley!

Spidey 3

Reports of Spider-Man’s demise may have been premature, but it’s hard to see where the franchise can go after this latest installment. The film isn’t half bad, although I have to admit I was more thrilled with the trailer for Transformers beforehand. Now that looks amazing.

The problem with Spidey part three is primarily the time it takes to get going. Maybe I’m in a minority, but I find the Aunt May character incredibly boring. In most of the ‘rocky relationship’ scenes I found myself distracted by Kirsten Dunst’s peculiarly pointy teeth. And then there’s the cheese factor too – really, what is the likelihood of Spidey being cheered on by a street full of New Yorkers with the backdrop of an American flag?

And I know I’m not the only person who felt that Peter Parker’s turn to the ‘dark side’ should have had more obvious signs than changing his parting to a moody emo ‘fringe in your eyes’ look, a black suit and eye-shadow. Gosh! How evil!

I was also slightly disappointed, given the high quality of the two main villains involved, how little screen time they got, especially Venom. But there’s an interesting subtext to Spidey 3 – when Spider-Man offers Sandman forgiveness instead of taking revenge, he makes amends for giving in to his own dark side previously. In teaming up with a former enemy (I’m not going to spoil it and say who), and appealing to him for help, he breaks down old, misguided hatreds in the face of a common foe.

And in those two instances, perhaps Spider-Man reveals something of the psyche of contemporary America; a move away from posturing next to a flag and going it alone towards a world where even long-time villains are capable of redemption. Or maybe it’s just a comic book flick trying to do something a bit different.

Roll on Transformers.

Jongudmund’s rating: 7/10

And you're basing that observation on what exactly...?

I spent most my coffee break today talking to some guy who rang in oblivious to my need for caffeine and a chat. When I finally managed to end the call I turned back to our team's breaktime conversation to catch our head honcho start an observation with the line:

"I think the thing is with strippers these days..."

Play offs in the pub

I went to The Grange pub last night to watch the mighty Shrews take on MK Dons in the League Two play offs and Sky’s surprisingly unpatronising coverage of a fairly dull, if fast-paced, scoreless draw. The pitch, now free of ducks and even swans, was muddy, but held up reasonably well in what will be the last ever Town game on it.

I did feel nostalgic though, as the cameras panned around a ground I know so well, lingering on the crumbling terraces, the trees above the stands, and the parochial advertising hoardings, while the commentators dutifully reminded us that this was the last game at Gay Meadow after 97 years…

So farewell then, the family stand, where as a lucky mascot I watched Town decimate Grimsby in the old second division; goodbye Christmas Steel Stockholders, the blue ad sign on the Wakeman End where me and Jim used to stand during our sixth form years; arrivederci the Riverside, with its tiny snack bar and stinky bogs.

It’s the end of an era. And I watched it live on Sky in a run down pub where no one cared. Except me.