A NEW STORY BEGINS IN OCTOBER

Stay tuned. In October 2007 you can read new adventures of Punky Pugilist, Sindy Blazer, Daggy, Ed and the entire crew.

Our next title:

A DOPPLEGANGERS DOZEN, AT THE TIMES OF SECOND LIFE.

CHAPTER 49 - INFERNO

FINAL CHAPTER OF "LOVE AND DEATH AT THE TIMES OF SECOND LIFE"
A FREE AND FULL VERSION OF THIS NOVEL IN PROPER ORDER IS AVAILABLE AT

www.TheTimesOfSL.com

CHAPTER 49

INFERNO


The flashing dagger raced toward Sindy’s heart. All heard Sindy scream in agony. Muffin turned his head. Ed fell to his knees. Witney began to cry.

The plaque of the Worm Orobos began to glow. Sodom Mountain’s rumble diminished. The light from the volcano began to fade.

Circe’s deadly blow was deflected. Circe raised the dagger again. Again she plunged it into Sindy’s heart and again it was deflected. Circe screamed in rage and plunged and plunged and plunged and plunged the dirk into Sindy. But to no avail. The dagger could not pierce the scar upon Sindy’s breast.

Muffin stood and then fell to his knees. It was Oboros, the deity before time, extending her hand of protection over the innocent and against evil.

Circe lay exhausted across the unconscious body of Sindy Blazer

Sister Letum stepped forward and pried the dagger from Circe’s hand.

Sister Letum walked to the golden throne and sat upon it. She surveyed the scene. Mount Sodom rumbled again and new lava flows appeared in the dark night.

“The Coronation will proceed. Circe has spoken,” Sister Letum said in a firm and commanding voice.

The Army of the Right and Left Hands of Circe dressed their ranks. And the ceremony was resumed.

Ed stood and walked to Sissy Talbot. He raised the crown above her head.

Mount Sodom rumbled, but Punky heard it first. A faint rustle of tree tops and the dull thunder of pumping steam engines. Punky looked up. Daggy immediately looked up as well. The sound grew louder. Others began looking toward the sky dense with trees and only a glimpse of shining aluminum.

Punky stood among the confusion and shouted. “It’s the Dread and she’s coming down. Run, Run fast, Now, Now, Now!”

Sister Letum was transfixed by the enormity of the descending dirigible. Her troops began to scatter. Punky grabbed Sindy and ran toward the gate. Muffin and the chair preceded them and the gate was opened. If any one knew the danger of the crashing Dread it was The Chair. The crash would be little compared to the explosion of two million cubic feet of hydrogen. The armies of Circe panicked as the huge metal form above them came breaking through the tree tops. Huge tree limbs were falling, as were spars of aluminum, and steaming hot water. Daggy grabbed Adel and pulled her out the gates. The army broke and ran. The polo ponies broke their tethers’ and galloped toward freedom.

All but Sister Letum ran. Sister Letum stood upon the golden throne and cursed the Dread. She held Circe’s dagger in her fist and screamed into the night sky and descending doom.

The night sky, the ancient forest and the entire caldera of Mount Sodom burst into a white hot inferno.

In moments everything in the Druid Grove was reduced to nothing. The entire grove confined with the stone walls was reduced to a slab of melted stone and rocks. All had escaped but Sister Letum, and where she had stood only an oozing puddle of silver remained in the burned blackness of the Druid Grove.

As Sindy, The Chair, Muffin, Punky, Daggy, and crew descended the mountains side, Chris turned to Witney. “I’m very proud Witney, very proud.”

Witney smiled.

Sindy was leading the group and was fumbling in her pockets looking or a pen and notebook. She had a scoop to get out.

All Punky could think of was courts martial for loosing a ship. The Chair came forward and put an arm around Punky and offered a Testosa Grande Resreva. Punky took the cigar and lit up.

“Good work Punky,” said the Chair. “Good work. Now I got another mission I want you to volunteer for.”

Punky thought a moment, smiled, and replied “What’s the odds?”

The found Tek sitting by the path.

Daggy was already thinking about improvements to the Dread’s design, that is if she ever got another chance at construction.

They were approaching the Temple of Hedon, and the party paused. Muffin took a long sip from a tankard of ale.

Witney stood deep in thought. She was watching the frolicking and dancing within the temple.

Witney looked at the little band and said, “You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up in a while.”

Chris frowned, kissed his daughter, and the band of sisters and brothers proceeded down the hill as Witney headed for the bubbling hot springs and the dancing boys and girls.

“What shall we call this?” said The Chair to Muffin.

Muffin thought for a moment. “How about the Hydrogen Revolution.”

The sun was peaking over the horizon and a new day was dawning.

CHAPTER 48 - CROWN

Sindy and Witney arrived at the stone wall of the Druid Grove around midnight. The firefly illumination was barely adequate for this night and both Sindy and Whitney had done a lot of singing. Once they had used the mating call of the firefly, but they both fell down laughing so hard that they lost any advantage of the increased illumination.

They could see that the grove was illuminated on the other side of the wall. Witney was gung-ho to continue, but Sindy felt queasy. Sindy told Witney to find an entrance while she caught her breath. Her chest hurt. It hurt on the circular scar that had been etched upon her breast just above her heart. That night, earlier in the week, at the Museo seemed to have receded into the distant past, but the pain was still new and it hurt. The scar was throbbing.

“Get a grip”, Sindy muttered to herself.

“Ouch,” said Sindy as a pebble hit her head. She turned and she saw Witney some distance away in the gloom. Witney held her fingers to her lips – the universal command to be quiet or something bad will happen.

Witney had climbed up a giant tree which must have fallen across the stone wall hundreds of years ago. The enormous tree was their ticket to get in. They scrambled over the wall and fell upon the warm fog layered primeval forest floor. The two proceeded with caution and soon they could see the glow of fires in the distance. A child’s voice was singing a sad song in the distance, but it was too far to hear the words. But Sindy recognized the tune. ‘The Hymn of Circe’s Return,’ recognized Sindy. This was going to be an ugly night. As Sindy rose to move forward she crumpled to her knees. She bit her lip to keep from groaning. Witney turned, but in the darkness she would not see Sindy’s pain.

After a moment Sindy whispered, “Its ok I tripped on a root. Lets go.”

Mount Sodom shook hard and a trickle of lava formed on the caldera wall just above the Druid Grove. It cast additional illumination into the ancient forest. The light streamed into the forest at a very low angle, illuminating everything in a reddish yellow light which flooded under the lower limbs of the giant trees. Many warriors shielded their eyes. As did The Chair and the Household Staff. Neither Circe nor Muffin moved. Both seemed know what was happening, as if the whole affair had been scripted and rehearsed endless times. Which was true. The last Ceremony of Coronation may have been hundreds of years in the past but it was as familiar as morning coffee to both Circe and Muffin.

Circe’s pure white gossamer gown turned orange and then red in the light of the volcano. Her bare breasts shone burnished bronze. Her hair raven black and her eyes… Her eyes were black pools of nothingness.

She silently raised the dagger above her head and a slow procession appeared from the distance. A most beautiful young woman held high a relic and walked forward ever so slowly. On each side strong warriors with ancient weapons walked with her. Behind her appeared another relic bearer, and then another.

As the first relic bearer approached the stone of sacrifice the paused and bowed to Circe. The attendant guards did not. Then the relic barer bowed to the man in the Zorro suit. The warrior guards were on alert to the slightest interference or danger. Circe did not respond. She stood transfixed and staring deep into Muffins eyes. Muffin did not move as he returned her stare. Circe and Muffin appeared locked in some mystical embrace oblivious to all around them.

The relic was placed upon the stone paralleling the stone of sacrifice.

Punky looked closely. The relic was flat and shiny and had a snake or something grasping its tail.

The relic barer stepped way and the second placed a jewel encrusted tall cone next to the shiny plaque.

Slowly the relic bearers approached, bowed to Circe, then to Zorro. The last relic bearer held the Crown of the Monforte Dynasty. Even Punky could recognize the crown and its famous Cote de Noir.

Mount Sodom spoke again and the illumination of the grove increased again and another trickle of lava formed on the caldera wall. In the very few places where the sky could be seen from among the ancient trees the clouded and snowing sky had turned blood red.

Circe turned, surveyed the surrounding tableau, and sat upon the golden throne.

“Bring forth the Chosen One,” said Circe.

Little Ben was escorted to the edge of the stone of sacrifice. Little Ben turned and faced Circe. Her face was blank and emotionless. But her tiny hands trembled.

“Bring forth the Life Giver,” said Circe

Ed was brought forward and he stood near Little Ben.

Circe smiled. Even Punky and Daggy high in the tree could see Circe’s wicked and depraved smile.

Circe stood from her golden throne. She glared at Little Ben. “The crown, and the prayer” said Circe. “Give the crown to the Life Giver. Say the holy words.”

Little Ben stared Circe in the eye, her tiny body shaking.

“No” said Little Ben

Circe’s eyes widened. Her lip curled. She raised her dagger high.

“The crown Ben, now!” Circe shouted.

“No. Never,” said Little Ben

Circe laughed with a touch of rabid madness.

“Bring the father brother,” Circe said quietly.

Into the light two warriors dragged a man, which the Chair recognized as Dr. Benway.

“This is your father brother Little Ben. This is your father Doctor Benway. This is your brother Fenway Ben,” shouted Circe.

One warrior took a knife and held it to Dr. Benway’s throat.

Little Ben retracted in horror as she understood the price of disobedience. The death of her long missing brother and her real father.

Little Ben clenched her jaw and began crying. She looked at Fenway and then she turned and picked up the crown. She paused and then handed the crown to Ed – the Life Giver. A trail of symbols and runes flowed from Little’s mouth like butterflies and dandelions in a gentle breeze. All but Circe stood in wonder and amazement.

“Crown your King, Life Giver,” commanded Circe.

Ed took the crown in both hands and held it high. He felt programmed and he seemed unable to stop his motions. Deep within is drug addled brain, his years of Naval training and discipline took hold. He lowered the crown and turned slowly to Circe.

“Crown your King, Now!” screamed Circe

“No,” said Ed. “Never.”

Circe began to tremble with rage. Spittle formed at the corners of her mouth. She looked frightening to everyone and strangely more beautiful in the glare of the forming lava pools.

“Bring the girl,” screamed Circe.

A warrior threw a small woman into the light. She was tightly bound and a hood was covering her head. Circe stepped forward and yanked the hood from their captive. She raised her dagger to the throat of the woman.

Ed saw it was his Sparkle. He began to cry.

“No Ed,” said Sparkle, “Don’t do it, please, for our future family. Don’t do it.”

“Yes, yes, I will obey,” said Ed. Ed and the entire plan of the Long White Hall had been defeated.

Ed walked slowly toward Bradford Cananticle Monforte IV, Royal, Dauphan of Second Life. Ed raised the crown above the royal head. Muffin reached to Ed’s hand and held it there. Then Muffin stood.

“No,” Montforte IV said loudly. “No. Never!” Muffin paused, “Monforte’s are not fit to rule… the Republic shall stand!” There was not a hint of the ancient tongue in Muffin’s determined refusal of the crown.

Punky and Daggy both noticed that Circe’s warriors seemed stunned. For a brief moment they seemed to waver and look about in confusion.

Sister Letum stepped forward and taking her sword brought it down hard on a silver shield held by one of the guards. The sound rang out throughout the grove. The Armies of the Right and Left Hand’s of Circe resumed their orderly composure.

“As I suspected,” said Cerce, “As I suspected.”

Circe smiled at Muffin and motioned again.

A small family of women was ushered into the light. It was the Talbot family. Sissy Talbot looked smug. Her mother stood confused, but grandmother Talbot seemed to understand the unfolding drama.

Grandmother Talbot stepped forward. “Don’t do it Muffin. Don’t let them back. Please stop them. We cannot have the Druids back!”

Muffin pulled the mask from his face. He recognized Snuggles Talbot as did The Chair, from long ago on the sports fields of Old Andirons. The younger Talbot’s were of royal blood realized both Muffin and The Chair. Bastards, but still of royal lineage. Sissy Talbot was eligible to wear the Crown of the Monfortes.

Sissy Talbot stood and forced her way forward. “I shall be Queen,” she yelled. “I shall be Queen, all shall bow before me.”

Sister Letum chuckled under her breath as Sissy spoke.

Circe smiled again. Mount Sodom sounded approval in a thin tall fountain of lava and red illumination.

Muffin almost collapsed on the throne. He grasped his head in his hands. After hundreds of years they had been foiled by the psychotic and bloody Druids.

Circe pointed toward Sissy Talbot and Ed moved and raised the crown above Sissy’s head.

Daggy and Punky got ready for their desperate and futile gesture.

The from the Darkness came running both Witney and Sindy, unarmed but with total surprise on their side. Circe’s army was caught off guard. Sindy made for Circe and Witney hit Sister Letum with a hard blow in the stomach. Witney stood back as Sister Letum quickly righted herself, but then Witney kicked hard into the sister and followed the kick with a powerful punch. Something broke, it was Sister letum’s jaw and she spit out teeth and blood. While Witney and the sister were locked in combat. Monforte’s household staff sprung into motion and formed a ring around Sindy and Circe, and Witney and Letum. The Army of Circe moved into action and soon chaos and confusion ruled.

The Yellow Knights moved in the chaos and freed themselves. The grabbed whatever weapons they could and they too joined the fight.

Circe grabbed Sindy around the throat by one hand, and in the other hand she held her dagger thrusting at Sindy’s throat.

“You vile ungrateful child,” hissed Adel into Sindy face.

For the first time in her life Sindy was not afraid of Adel or the Wrath of Circe. As Adel lowered the dagger Sindy grabbed her wrist and deflected the deadly blow. But Circe was a warrior and Sindy was a reporter. In a few moments Circe subdued Sindy and they both fell upon the stone of sacrifice. Sindy was pinned and Circe raised the blade above her head. Circe was laughing hysterically. The volcano boomed. And Daggy and Punky fell from the tree limb and on top of Circe.

But the defenders of the Republic of Second life were outnumbered. They were too few, too disorganized, too unprepared, too nice, and too weak.

After a few moments of frightful fighting it was over. The Army of the Right and Left Hands of Circe was triumphant. They had surrounded the defenders of the Yellow Revolution. Circe had broken free, but she still straddled Sindy on the stone of sacrifice.

Sister Letum, holding her jaw said “Resume the Coronation of the Talbot slut.”
Circe shouted “No.” She paused and spoke with great fury, “First I must reward this ungrateful child and send her to her everlasting reward of agony and pain”. Circe raised the pearl encrusted silver dagger edged in carbon steel above her head and then with great force plunged the dagger into Sindy’s heart.

CHAPTER 47 - CIRCE'S LOVE

Punky moved slowly through the ancient forest toward the distance bonfires. She was very quiet but the sulphur in the air almost made her sneeze. To her left was considerably more light behind a large iron and wooden gate. Then Punky heard movement along the road and she dropped to the warm but prickly forest floor hidden by fog. This place was very dangerous decided Punky. After a few moments the large gate opened and the procession entered the compound. She was about to stand when she noticed warrior guards standing near the gate. They looked serious in their furs and with very sharp spears. Punky decided to stay put and invisible in ground fog.

As she lay on the ground behind a very large rotten tree stump she found a place where she could peak thought the skeleton of decaying bark and take in the entire scene.

She saw hundreds of warriors lined up in some kind of formation. Like graduation at the Academy of Blimps thought Punky, but these were not happy graduating cadets. These were warrior women in ancient dress, or undress in some cases. They were heavily armed and Punky recognized some of the modern weapons. There faces were painted blue. Punky did not know why they looked that way, but she knew that the entire effect was screaming “don’t mess with me.” She watched as the procession advanced to a stone monument and then set up a chair or throne opposite the stone and the silent warrior guard. Some kind of ritual thought Punky. Then she recognized The Chair. An inner voice told her to remain hidden. The Chair did not look happy at all. He was surrounded by a small group of oddly dressed seniors and a rather short man with a mask and a black outfit. Zorro came to mind, thought Punky, but that made no sense.

Punky decided to creep forward with care and determine what was going on. She looked carefully and saw no one but the phalanx of warriors and the elegantly dressed group standing with The Chair. The guards by the gate had disappeared when the gate had been closed moments before. Punky moved swiftly and silently across the road. She hugged the ancient wall of stones. The fires grew dim as she followed the wall for some distance. Then the wall made a 90 degree turn and she followed it until she estimated that she was behind The Chair and his group. Punky rested a moment. She could see clearly two of the bonfires, but the ground fog obscured the others.

Punky advanced with caution. The bonfires grew brighter and she advanced slowly and silently. Then she came upon a huge slab of stone angled at about 30 degrees toward the sky. The top of the rock slab must have been 10 meters and above the slab. At the top of the slab a group of very large tree trunks obscured the scene below. Punky found climbing the stone easy and she soon reached the top. Several bushy tree limbs the thickness of a cow obscured here view. She stopped for a moment and then began to climb out on the limb. The limb was solid and Punky found many sturdy handholds in the tough fibrous bark. As she inched forward the limb stopped. It had fallen off or been destroyed in some primordial storm. However the view below was spectacular. Punky could see everything including the ranks of warriors and beyond. She saw a large flat stone covered with yellow flowers. Punky was high above what she decided must be a Druid sanctuary. She was perhaps 15 to 20 meters high. Directly below her was the little man dressed like Zorro sitting on a very large and ornate golden chair. And next to him stood The Chair.

All Punky needed now was to light up the Testosa Grande and take in the spectacle. However the blue painted faces indicated that smoking in the grove would not be advised.

Just as Punky was settling in she heard in the distance a child’s voice begin to sing. It was a single voice of intense beauty. The voice was sorrowful, innocent, and delicate. The single voice resonated throughout the grove and Punky listened carefully.

“Circe’s love and lust so fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy sacred chair,
Stately guide and laws to keep:
Tigers entreat thy might,
Circe’s love excellently bright.”

Punky saw movement at the far end of the warrior phalanx. Four tall and nearly naked blue painted women carried a golden throne between the two lines of guards. They moved slowly as the solitary voice sang the dirge like melody. The jeweled throne was carefully placed opposite the flat flower covered slab that faced The Chair and Zorro. A bit like two chess masters getting ready for a showdown thought Punky.

The mountain rumbled and the glowing pit in the distance suddenly lit the sky. Punky thought she might be seen, but soon a cloud of stinky gas obscured the entire area. Soon it would pass. Time to light up thought Punky. She drew the Testosa Grande from her pocket, bit off the end which she put into her pocket. Then she lit a match cupped in her hands and puffed hard like a blimp climbing for altitude. The Testosa tip glowed a dull red. Eventually the stinky cloud of smoke cleared and Punky could see the scene below again.

Punky was less than three puffs into the Testosa when again she noticed movement at the far end of the lane of warriors. Two very burly, very ugly, and very nude women were dragging some poor soul dressed in an outrageous outfit into the light. There was a chain about his neck and he wore a dumb purple robe, was stripped to the waist, and was wearing some kind of sparkly gold skimpy shorts. Punky thought it was almost funny until she looked closely. It was Ed! Ed Hallard. This is getting serious thought Punky. Dangerously serious.

The voice began to sing again.


“Earth, let not thy envy shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Circe’s darkened moon was made
Heaven to clear when day did close:
Give us then our blessed night,
Circe’s gift excellently bright.”

Not a very catchy tune thought Punky, but she found the words and melody deeply disturbing.

She spied another movement. Two warriors were carrying Little Ben toward the golden throne. Punky was sick. Little Ben! They were supposed to protect her. Not deliver her up to the hands of Adel’s maniacs. But there she was. Little Ben was unbound but looked as if she were drugged or in some kind of trance. The warriors gently placed her at the foot of the golden throne next to the chained Ed.

Gods thought Punky they probably got the rest of the crew as well. Punky thought hard. She had no weapons. She was determined to protect Little Ben, but there was nothing she could do. I’ll wait she thought perhaps Kees or Macboy got away. They were heavily armed, and as Omega Squad people, they could help out if they found this place. Perhaps those Knights might show up. They sounded pretty powerful thought Punky.

She took a puff and continued to observe as the ground rumbled again and smoke obscured the scene for a few moments. As the smoke cleared and the view returned Punky was again shocked. For behind the golden throne she saw the crumpled forms of Kees and Macboy. They were bound hand and foot. As a blimp captain she could see that the ropes were sturdy and the knots very clever. Even the Omega Squad could not escape.

Things were bad realized Punky and they were getting worse by the moment.

Just as the solo voice began to sing again Punky heard the clattering of horses’ hooves in the distance. Must be those Knights to the rescue. But the sound was not the clattering of hooves on a mighty charge as one heard on old youtube westerns, but the sound of small and very tired ponies.

“Sacrifice the ones apart,
And with thy sparkling dagger;
Give unto the bleeding hart
Dispatch them now then to stagger;
Thou that make a day of night,
Circe’s lust excellently bright.”

Sacrifice thought Punky. That’s what this is all about. It’s a Druid Sacrifice. An evil thing outlawed hundreds of years ago.

Probably Little Ben or perhaps Ed. Or perhaps all of them and the crew. I gotta do something thought. But what?

The gate slowly opened and bright white torches illuminated brilliant yellow banners and mounted Knights. Dusty Knights. Rusty Knights. Very very old Knights. Slowly the Knights ambled forward on their steeds. Soon they stood facing, what Punky now knew, was a stone of sacrifice.

On the right of the Knights sat Zorro and The Chair. To the left the golden throne, Ben, Ed, and the captives.

A tall beautiful warrior stepped forward and stood between the sacrificial stone and the little band of Yellow Knights.

“Just on time,” said Sister Letum. “Just on time.” Sister Letum was dressed in a brown leather outfit that left nothing to the imagination. In her hand she held a long and very sharp blade. Sister Letum continued “Welcome o Knights of the Yellow Banner, Bearers of the Concordat of Abdication, and Brothers in Arms to Mofo the Brave and Very Dead. Welcome to thy doom and the Druid Resurrection ”

In an instant a giant net fell heavily from the darkness above onto the Yellow Knights. Warriors hidden in the dark rushed the Yellow Knights. The Yellow Knights crumpled and fell. The ponies whinnied and pawed the ground desperate to escape. One Yellow Knight managed to cut free the thick netting but was immediately overcome by five strong warriors. The Knights had failed. There were too few to counter Adel’s swift and savage attack.

Soon the knights were bound and arrayed before a stone slab bordering the stone of sacrifice. They stood upon their knees like supplicants at some holy shrine thought Punky. Behind each stood a blue smeared warrior with a dagger held to the throat of each Knight. Silence again fell upon the primeval grove. Only Mount Sodom occasionally spoke.

A snap sounded just to the left of Punky’s ear. She froze and turned expecting to see an ugly blue face with a nine inch blade. To her amazement it was Daggy, her fingers to her lips. Punky quickly looked down. No one had noticed the tiny noise. Punky looked back and Daggy smiled. Punky raised her fingers and began signing to Daggy. Navy hand signals needed when the storms, or howling boilers made hearing and speaking impossible.

“Did you see?” signed Punky.

“Yes, everything,” replied Daggy. “There is only you and me to stop this madness.” “

Yes,” said Punky, “but first lets plan this out.”

Daggy nodded.

The beautiful voice resumed her song.

“Monforte throne in the night,
Our exile over and now so new
The crown and jewel to set it right,
A blessing for the very few
Yellow Knights fail in fight
Circe’s dagger excellently bright.”

Mount Sodom spoke again, this time with a bright flash and deep roar. Steam and smoke obscured the scene.

As it cleared there stood Circe. Circe was radiant in her splendor and fearful in her eyes.

Punky was shocked at the beauty of Circe. She turned to Daggy.

Daggy signed, “Look in here eyes.”

Punky leaned forward just a bit and looked long and hard. “Insane,” Punky signed to Daggy. “Completely insane.” Then Punky signed “Look at her hand.” Daggy nodded ‘yes’ as she spied the jeweled dagger of Circe.

CHAPTER 46 - SEEKERS

The Chair, Muffin, and their entourage passed a number of busy shrines and temples on the climb to the Druid Gove. Along the northern path several temples were doing a lot of business saving souls and after it began to snow the Holy Hot Springs and Spa of the Profit of Hedon was packed. As they passed The Chair saw hundreds of little heads poking up out of the steaming springs. Each had a snowy patch on top of their heads. Muffin had laughed saying they looked just like Cappuccino Monks. As they passed the gate of the Temple of Hedonism Muffin downed two flagons of ale and resumed the climb. The courtiers all lit the insta-torches and the gloomy surrounds became illuminated in a flickering brilliant white light with harsh shadows cast into the dark forest. The higher they climbed the fewer seekers they saw. Many had turned back in the snow and dark and were headed for the temples below. Soon they passed a determined seeker still headed upward, who was carrying a box of Corneal Beers. How the seeker was able to carry a heavy load of beer all this was a mystery to The Chair.

The snow, which was light at the base of the mountain, became heavy as they approached the sacred grove. But The Chair noticed that some ground was volcanic in nature and was warm to the touch. Not hot, just warm, and the snow quickly melted and a kind of wispy ground fog developed in its place. The path finally leveled out and a broad bench of land opened before them. It was deeply wooded with ancient trees. “Cryptomeria, cryptomeria,” shouted a giddily happy Muffin.

The Chair looked carefully. Redwoods thought The Chair. In any event they were very very old. There was little or no under story, or ground vegetation, because the towering trees cut out all sunlight at ground level. The ground was warm and the entire forest floor was covered in a thick blanket of fog. The fog held low to the ground at about knee height. In the distance they could see, hear, and smell several enormous bonfires which cast a yellow and orange light into the vast collection of brownish red tree trunks. The light of the bonfires was covered in a kind of dome of fog and was dim at this distance, but they could see a long avenue before them leading to ancient gates.

Muffin raised his plastic sword in one hand and held his Zorro cape in the other and shouted “To Victory!” The royal party set off down the avenue to their appointment with the ancient Ceremony of Coronation.

The southern path proved a steep one and the Yellow Knights were forced to dismount and walk their steeds at the entrance to the Temple of the Maple Leaf. It was a Canadian retreat, but it had closed at sunset and no one was home. As they looked across the lower chasm they could make out another party with bright torches climbing along the northern route.

The path was dangerously slippery. Chris knew he should stop and rest the Army of the Yellow Knights, but there simply was no time. Zenith for the dead moon could not be far off he realized.

Without squires the going was tough, but there had been no squires in the Brick Layers Secret Society in years. Young people were simply not interested in learning a lot of secret handshakes, obscure terms, and odd little dances. “Ah,” Chris said to no one, “The Yellow Knights are so last century, just as my daughter claimed. So yesterday, it’s not funny.” No, not funny thought Chris. A better term would be desperate.

Chris took the lead but he could not see his hand before his face. There was some relief when the approached the Sanctuary of the triple faced god Avarice, Avidity, and Covetousness. The temple pagoda was brightly lit, but the gate was locked and an admission sign read Adults 10 lindens, Children Under Age of 10, 20 lindens. The Knights desperately needed a short rest. Chris banged on the gate with his chain mail fist. Soon a little man was seen scurrying to the gate a torch in his hand.

“How many in your party,” cried out the little man? He had all gold teeth Chris saw in the light of the pagoda.

“Ten, no nine” said Chris.

The little man looked up and said, “That will be 90 lindens, if you had been ten I would have given you a discount.” He said. Chris was tempted to ask how much, but he really needed to sit down.

“Ah,” said the little man “and another 10 lindens per horse for a total of 300 lindens.”
Chris looked at the horses. There were two per rider. “Do you take the Red Ink card?” asked Chris.

“Credit or Debit?” asked the little man. “I’ll give you a discount for Debit and a reduced price on unlimited access to our toilet”

“How much?” asked Chris.

“Lets say 600 lindens for the whole package, excluding of course actual entry to the temple, the use of the temple grounds, or any other service listed here.” He pointed to a notice board with hundreds of item listed, including heavy breathing, and oogles of the temple girls. The list went on and on.

When Chris was able to sit down on the steps of the temple, only 20 lindens, he regretted it. His steel undershorts, which were too small when he left the Capital, were now really, badly, and horribly too small

“I need some torches and a map,” said Chris.

“How many maps and what type or torches,” asked the little man?

“Sheesh,” said Chris.

As Sindy and Witney approached the initial climb of the eastern route they noticed a Mulberry farm and they purchased from the farmer four jars of fireflies. The farmer demonstrated how to control the amount of light the fireflies would yield. Say nothing and you got a flickering candle light equivalent. Sing to the fireflies about the glow worm and you got about ten candle power. If you yelled real loud and sounded like a girl firefly seeking a mate you would get a bright light.

“What does a girl firefly sound like,” asked Wintey. The farmer explained and both Witney and Sindy blushed. The jar sprang into a bright green blue light and then settled back to a dull glow. It seemed that the call of the female firefly got the males glowing with expectation and the females jealous and angry. The farmer was kind enough to attach the jars to a slender string which he placed around their necks.

Punky had hit the ground hard. She had hit several large branches on the way down and her leg hurt but she knew she would be ok. Punky could feel an ancient forest all about her. Here among the giant trees the wind seemed still and the ground covered with a thin fog. She touched the ground. The ground and the moss floor of the forest was warm. It was pitch black and Punky sensed the forest and fog rather than actually saw it. She called out several times, but there was no response. At the speed the Dread was making in the storm the crew was probably spread across the mountain side for kilometers. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she saw an orange glow perhaps 500 yards distant. She paused for a moment to inventory what she had in her pockets. One Testosa Grande in a tin tube, a half used book of matches, a bobby pin, a grocery list from last week which listed kitty litter among other things, and the dispatch box skeleton key. Not much here she thought but at least I’ll have a smoke. She bit off the end of the Testosa Grande and lit a match, it was a brilliant light to her dark adjusted eyes. She held the flame to the Testosa and puffed like a blimp climbing for altitude. The tip lit and she drew a big puff. Before she shook out the match she took a quick look around in the dying light. There were bones here she realized. Lots of bones. Very old bones and some not so old. Human bones. The light flickered out.

Punky set off in the direction of the dim orange light in the distance.

The Chair, Muffin in his Zorro disguise, and his entourage walked slowly up the gentle approach to the Druid Grove. The avenue was paved with ancient moss covered stones but the torches clearly showed that the path had been recently used and by a large number of people. Before them stood a series of monolithic stones standing end on end like marching toy soldiers all headed toward the flaming bonfire in the distance. As they drew closer they saw small fires lining the road every few feet providing excellent illumination of the avenue, the trees, and the stone monuments lining the road.

The still night was shattered by the distant roar of a lion. The household staff noticeably tensed with the cry.

Then looming before them was a tall and impenetrable iron and wooden gate anchored in two massive stone pillars. The Chair pushed on the gate and it did not move. Muffin laughed.

“Needs the Oath of Allegiance”, said Muffin. Then Muffin drew himself up as tall as he could in his short frame and spoke in the ancient tongue.

Chris could not understand a single word, for Muffin spoke in runes and symbols.

The gate trembled and then swung open. All but Muffin stood in awe of the spectacle before them. The field before them was brightly illuminated by four gigantic bonfires. One fire in each of the cardinal directions. Beyond the field the glowing pit of Mount Sodom could be seen spiting hot lava and spewing brownish smoke.

In the center of the field just above the ground fog stood the stone of sacrifice covered with yellow tulips. However the most amazing thing were the female warriors. Two files of warriors stood facing each other in total silence. They formed a lane three meters wide from the far dark end of the field to the sacrificial stone. Each file was three ranks deep. The Chair quickly calculated – 600. They were dressed in animal furs, leather, and many were completely nude. Most were smeared with blue pigment. Some were smeared with blood. The women warriors were heavily armed in ancient weapons, but many also held modern devastating weapons as well. The army did not move. The army did not speak. The army did not turn to look at Muffin’s party. The Chair knew they were expected.

Muffin looked about and paused in thought for a moment. He took note of the two smaller stones that flanked the sacrificial stone. Then Muffin spoke. “Uncrate that thing an put it here.” He said pointing to a space on the far side of the sacrificial stone away from the phalanx of Adel’s army of the Left and Right Hands of Circe.

Soon the Throne of the Montforte’s was assembled and carefully placed in the exact location indicated by Muffin. Muffin removed his Zorro hat, but not his mask, and sat upon the throne. He stared directly forward down the lane of warriors and did not move.

CHAPTER 45 - FOREST PRIMEVAL

The landing was going to be tricky and dangerous, thought Punky Pugilist struggling to keep the dirigible under control, as rain pelting the windscreen made visibility uncertain. Ice was building up on both the flight surfaces and on the upper skin. The wind howled and bright flashes of lightening, the nemesis of all airship captains, rattled the cabin.

“I should have made some sandwiches and tea while I had the chance,” mumbled Punky under her breath, “perhaps turkey and cheese, or ham and cucumber,…”

A flash of brilliant light illuminated the cabin, the instruments sharply outlined in harsh luminance and sharp edges of black shadow. The ship shuddered. Punky flinched, that was close she thought, thank the gods I have a hydrogen filled blimp which provides extra lift, rather than the more expensive and weaker helium. A small yellow light suddenly glowed red and began flashing drawing her attention from food and tea back toward the stark reality of the responsibility and danger of her mission. The red light went out, followed by a distinct click and thud, as a slice of rye toast flew from the toaster into the air next to the captain’s chair. With the fast trained reflexes of an experienced pilot Punky grabbed the toast in mid air and bringing it to her mouth, she took a tiny bite.

“There, that will settle my tummy a bit,” she uttered to herself. Why did I ever agree with this really stupid and futile gesture she wondered, but in her heart she knew that she was committed regardless of the glorious fame of success, or the iniquity of failure followed by a trial, conviction, and sentencing to the ultimate penalty, or perhaps only death? Checking the instruments, noting the falling air speed as the howling gale increased in furry, Punky looked behind her at Daggy. Daggy was desperately trying to determine their exact location. The lightening and ice was interfering with the navigation system that Daggy held tightly in her hand.

Tek had gone up to the engineering section to see why the number three engine’s boiler was loosing steam pressure at an alarming rate. They were burning coal at a frightful rate to stay aloft, heat the flight surfaces to melt the ice, and keep the cabin interior from freezing.

A flash of blinding light appeared outside the left window and a white hot tongue of lightening struck the number one engine. A huge deafening explosion of sound followed. Thunder had combined with an exploding boiler. Daggy immediately stood and scanned the gages and instruments in the Engineers station.

Punky threw open the port side sliding window at the pilot’s station and stuck her head out the window and looked up. It was bad. The entire nacelle of number 1 was gone. The engine had been blown off the Dread by the combination of a direct lightening hit and the high pressure steam explosion. Ice and hail pummeled Punky’s head and her cap flew off into the downpour of freezing water. She had seen enough. She slammed the little window closed and scanned her instruments. They were loosing altitude.

Tek came sliding down the ladder from the engineering section above. He looked tired and worried as he ran to Punky’s pilot’s seat. “We’ve been breached.” He yelled.

Punky winced, but her training took over. “How bad?”

“It’s about a meter wide breach. Kees is trying to slow down the leak with bubble patches, but we don’t have much time.”

Punky spun the UP&DOWN wheel and felt the ship rise slightly. “We still have some lift,” Punky yelled at Daggy, “I’m going for the maximum altitude I can get. Perhaps we can make it to the rendezvous by a controlled glide.” She failed to mention what both Daggy and Tek new followed a ‘controlled glide’ – an ugly crash and possible fire ball of burning hydrogen, flaming aluminum spars, and glowing coal.

Daggy nodded to Punky. Daggy was still trying to determine their heading not to mention their location. The howling wind increased in intensity and their forward ground speed could not be more than 10 knots Daggy guessed. But in this hail and sleet she really had no idea where they were. The ‘street walker’ navigation lifted from Blurts had stopped working hours ago.

As the ship shuddered and lurched in the angry sky Punky fought to gain altitude. Mount Sodom was 7000 meters in altitude and Punky knew they could never make that height. Not in a ship this badly damaged. The altimeter slowly ever so slowly rose to about 5000 meters then the altimeter stopped moving. Punky felt a sickening feeling in the seat of her pants. The ship had begun an ever so slow descent. She tapped the altimeter with her finger and it wiggled and began falling. Time to consider alternatives thought Punky, but there were not any.

On the deck lay a soaked yellow sheet of paper, its ink running and flowing from the paper and onto the decking. The note was their orders from the Second Sea Lord should they fail to deliver Little Ben to Clissa. The Dread had succeeded in its commitment to reach Clissa, but to their surprise Clissa was not there to receive Little Ben. Punky knew enough about this stupid and futile gesture that the crew knew was a suicide mission to know that the goal had been to place Little Ben in the only Sim where Adel’s order had no influence. All religions were banned in Clissa, except of course for the worship of the Great Leader and Glorious Leader. The Blue Navy wanted Little Ben safe, and isolated for at least a few days, and they had rushed the completion of the Dread to both rescue her and remove her from any influence by The Order. Punky knew they would do anything to snatch Little Ben. Punky just didn’t know why Adel wanted Little Ben so desperately.

The contingency orders were clear. Get Little Ben to Mount Sodom and into the hands of the Yellow Knights who could be found there. Punky didn’t know who the Yellow Knights were so she asked Daggy.

‘The Yellow Knights?” said Daggy. She thought for a while and said, “If I remember correctly the Yellow Knights were key in the Battle of Coronation Grove and in bringing down the stupid monarchy.” Then Daggy thought a bit more. “I think that Mofo the Brave and Very Dead had almost been prematurely killed by the Druid Priestess at the Ceremony to install the last Monforte King. That’s about all I can remember from grade school legends and civics class.”

The ship shuddered hard and a great sheet of ice slid off the nose and passed by the cockpit windows like a thundering waterfall. The nose rose sharply and Punky struggled to keep the ship level.

Daggy quickly scanned the meters and gages. “Steam pressure is nil in number 3, and were they were loosing pressure in 2 and 4. Daggy said nothing about number one. The engine lost to lightening and a boiler explosion moments ago.

“How many mules can you get me from 2 and 4,” shouted Punky as the airship lurched sharply to port in an enormous surge of wind and hail from the starboard side.

Daggy watched in horror as the pressure gages fell to 0. “Cant give you any Punkster, there gone.”

Punky thought hard. They still had two engines working but it was not enough to maintain much forward headway in this weather on a pitch black night. There was no out. “We can jump, which in this weather will probably get most of us killed or frozen regardless of the strength of the chutes. Or we can do as all good Blimp girls do and that is to ride her down.”

Daggy thought and realized Punky was correct. Besides Little Ben would never survive a parachute jump, even if the weather was fair.

The Daggy had an idea. “Which way is north Punky?” she yelled above the howling wind.

Punky knew that their survival may depend on her “dead reckoning” skills. She closed her eyes for a moment. The she shouted and pointed, “That way, to starboard, 150 degrees, that way!”

Daggy shouted, “Bring her around to 210.”

Tek suck his head into the gondola from the engineering section above. “Its not holding, the bubble wrap.”

Daggy said, “Stoke the remaining engines with all the coal they will take, then get the crew down here. Were gonna ditch.”

“Yes, Mam,” replied Tek.

‘Yes Mam’ thought Daggy, Tek never said that, never. He must be really frightened.

Daggy could hear fast and furious shoveling from above.

Kees came sliding down the ladder from above. Followed by Macboy. They were dressed warm and in the Omega team’s combat gear. Both were armed. Daggy looked at Kees and Macboy. “Take care of Little Ben, above all she must live. If either of you survive make sure …”

The Dread shuddered hard and the deck tilted 40 degrees and the crew gabbed for handholds to stay on their feet. Then she leveled out a bit.

“We hit something big,” yelled Punky. “Time to ditch. Out! Out! Out!”

Daggy grabbed the lower deck hatch and pulled it open. It was pitch black below. Daggy reached for the belaying line on the descent real and then opened the left storage bay and pulled out a grappling hook. He tossed a hundred feet o the rope and grappling hook out the hatch where it hung loosely. Kees had grabbed Little Ben and had wrapped her up in a scratchy navy blanket.

Something scraped along the starboard side of the dirigible. A scraping sound like the swishing of a giant feather against the ridged airships side. The line went taught. The grappling hook had caught something below. Perhaps a rock or some patch of ground.

“Go yelled!” Punky “Go.”

Kees grabbed the line and was gone. The Macboy followed immediately. Tek came sliding down the ladder, looked at Daggy and Punky. Then he too was gone. The line began to shudder as if it was catching and letting go and catching again.

Punky jumped up from her seat and joined Daggy at the hatch. Daggy looked hard at Punky.

“I’m captain Daggy, it’s your turn,” said Punky with a weak smile.

Daggy saluted Punky and then was gone.

Punky grabbed the line and then she paused. Punky looked around at the instruments, the gages, her toaster, at all the bits of tin and aluminum that was alive in Punky’s hands. The Dread, her ship, was going down. She stood at attention, then gave a snappy salute to the nose. “Permission to leave?” she asked to the empty ship. The ship shuddered just a bit as if to say ‘permission granted’. Then Punky was gone. The line broke and the ship, now a bit lighter, rose into the dark stormy sky.

CHAPTER 44 - SMELLS LIKE SNOW

Minister Dawdling of the Sect of Acedia the All Loving, was looking down upon the sacrilegious and disgusting cavorting of the Hedonists. He was stunned by the number of new recruits they had attracted. A long line of white clad seekers were climbing up the steep path toward the chasm above. Minister Dawdling of the Fluffy Grove and Bed of the Mother of Acedia studied the scene carefully. A third or so of the seekers were entering the wretched and sinful camp of the Hedon. May he burn in Sodoms pit thougt Dawdling.

"This will not do," he said rubbing his eyes and resuming his reclining position. Ill think about this as I nap. He reached for a cold slice of pizza but the greasy box was empty. Dawdling rolled over and decided on a beer, but the beer bottle had fallen over and the contents had disappeared into the ground. Hmm he thought. Then mother nature called. He was tempted, but his assigned mattress already smelled pretty bad so he got up and walked to the cliff overlooking the upward spiraling path crowded with seekers. He relieved himself onto the seekers below. He looked to the darkening skies. Smelled like snow he thought.

Time for a days work. He resigned himself to the onerous chore of getting more beer and perhaps a few new members. It was his responsibility as Minster of Acedia to spread the good word. He walked the short distance to the Gate of the Quiet Snooze and threw open the doors which faced the upper path. The first of the seekers was approaching the gate. Dawdling looked about and saw a tattered lawn chair and pulled it just outside the gate and sat down. As the first of the seekers reached the gate he shouted out “Free Beer and Pizza, Fresh Mattresses, No Nagging.” The lead seekers paused and pondered the offer. More than half turned and passed through the gate. The Reverend Mooch was standing dressed only in his dirty shorts and bunny shoes next to the Frig of Perpetual Beer. He held the frig door open and began handing out beers until he grew tired and lay down next to the Miracle of the Pizza Oven and took a well deserved snooze.

Not far above on the path Hubert Cenodoxus stood looking down the path toward the despicable pen of the slothful. “Disgusting” he said as he stood tall and proud, the wind flowing through is beautiful golden locks. His firm tanned body glowing in the setting sun. Only I can save those miserable seekers he knew. The true arts of humility and grace were his, and only his, to dispense to these poor ignorant seekers. I will save them from themselves he thought. He walked with authority to the Turnstile of Submission to His Beauty and Wisdom. I’ll put a stop to this heresy said Hubert. But first I need to find that snow shovel he thought. I can put the visitors to a useful purpose because it smells a lot like snow.

They dressed Ed in a gold lame loin cloth and an enormous purple angora robe with a woven image of a snake eating its tail. The Worm Oboros Ed knew. Ed though his outfit outrageous but he had been told about the ancient ritual by the Second Sea Lord and the critical role he was to play in stopping the Druid Priestess’s plans. If he lived that long. The outfit was really outrageous because he somehow knew it was going to snow. Perhaps the smell.

Ed knew the scrubbing in the icy stream was a purification ritual. His skin was indeed very clean but they had almost rubbed him raw. Then they coated him in a kind of tingly oil and rosewater mix. The oil Ed suspected contained some kind of drug. Ed had not felt this odd since the time he visited Miss Anahita at the Temple of Khajuraho off the coast of Elmore near the Sea of Dreams.

They had seated Ed in the tent. His hands and feet were free, but the tent was heavily guarded. The guards were nervous and waiting for something. The temporary temple had changed a bit and behind the alter was hung a magnificent tapestry. Ed realized it must be the lost Veil of the Temple of Circe, for in the middle of the tapestry stood the image of the Druid Priestess of legend.

Circe stood bare breasted in a pure white diaphanous gown at the top of a set of marble steps. Her raven hair radiant and with a smile both loving and cruel. In one hand she was throwing rose petals onto the five marble steps below her. Yellow tulips formed a carped upon the marble floor below the stairs. In the other hand she held a discrete dagger. She stood upon a magnificent tiger skin rug and behind and about her were monstrous wild beasts. Tigers, male, and female lions were resting at her feet. At the foot of the stair a snarling wolf was baring its teeth not at Circe, but at the position of the viewer. Circle was beautiful – stunningly beautiful and very very deadly. The border of the tapestry was covered in tiny writhing bodies which Ed could barely make out.

The Guards of the Left Hand of Circe snapped to attention. The flaps of the main entrance of the temple flew open and there stood Circe herself. She was resplendent, bare breasted and in a gown of white purity and perfection. In her hand she held an ancient dagger with a handle of pearls and a blade of sliver edged with carbon steel.

It was Adel.

She entered the room and the guards fell to their knees, but the spears and weapons remained posed for action and certain death should they be needed.

“Captain Ed Hallard,” Circe said, or rather Adel Flossberg. “Or should I say the disgraced and cashiered Ed of the wicked navy of New Rome. Welcome, welcome to life everlasting in my eager willing arms.”

“Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” replied Ed trying to make a joke.

Circe was not amused. She stepped closer to Ed. Gods she’s beautiful though Ed.

“Ed,” said Circe, “I know you hate New Rome for what they have done to you. Disgraced you, and abused you, and humiliated you before your friends and comrades. I sense you want revenge and I offer you the opportunity to strike at the heart of those who have ruined you.”

Ed was feeling very odd. He was certain he had been drugged. The drugs had two very different effects. The first was pleasant and was basically a kind of blissful easy hunger for Circe. Within moments it had turned to lust for Circe and a mad desire to embrace her. The second emotion he felt was rage and anger. He felt a need to show all who had ever slighted him, or insulted him, or humiliated him his power and anger. Demonstrating anger was never one of Ed’s emotions, but it grew very powerfully and soon his temples were pounding with rage and lust and the need to demonstrate both to the world.

Circe smiled and came closer. Ed could smell her perfume. Another drug his addled brain concluded.

Circe drew her dagger close to Ed’s face and then she kissed him lightly. She laughed the laugh of the insane and mad. She took the dagger and slowly drew it across Ed’s cheek. A thin tiny red life followed the shining tip of Circe’s blade. Ed felt nothing but rage and desire. Circe put her finger to Ed’s cheek and touched a tiny trickle of blood. She gazed dreamily into Ed’s eyes and then moving her finger tip to her full red lips she tasted of his blood.

Then she stood and turned toward the entrance to the tent. The guards opened the flaps of the tent, as she left she said “Bring him to the Sacred Grove, it is time.”

The Chair and Muffin had landed at the base of Mount Sodom. As The Chair looked to the skies he thought that it was likely to snow this eve. He had a hunch and it smelled like snow. They had chosen the northern path to the Druid Grove, not because it was the easiest path, which it was, but because their landing would be easily seen from The Orders encampment just outside the legendary Druid Grove. They faced a two hour climb to reach the grove and Muffin had chosen the Zorro costume rather than the bunny suit as his disguise. The household staff had changed as well, but their costumes were that of ancient courtiers and fops. Lots of frilly cuffs, and lace, and for the women Empire Style bodices and for the men tights that were very tight indeed. There had been a run on socks at the last moment. All were armed with dainty but effective knives and brass knuckles. They had stopped and hired several bewildered farmers to carry a large crate.

Muffin brandishing his plastic Zorro sword pointed up the path and shouted “To victory.” The small column began to move forward up the mountain and to a hoped for victory.

The Yellow Knights reached the foot of Mount Sodom just before sundown. They were nine. Sir Gandorlf of the Yellow Knights had, shortly after reaching the River of Sticks, lost his seat, and had been forced to remain on his behind. Chris though he would be greatly disappointed, however Sir Gandorlf quickly fell to sleep under a withered persimmon tree. They covered him in some blankets, gave the local persimmon farmer five lindens and told the farmer they would be back on the morrow. Or so Chris hoped.

At the foot of the mountain the Army of the Yellow Knights dismounted their ponies and remounted on the fresh charges they had brought with them. Chris and Philpot Onus took a long pause to look at their small group. In the Yellow Revolution of hundreds of years ago, Mofo the Great and Very Dead had 500 of the flour of the aristocracy at his command. Chris had nine old withered men. Men of great courage there was no doubt, but still very old and now quite saddle sore. Chris felt compelled to make a stirring speech, something about St. Crispies Day, but he was too tired, his bottom had chaffed raw in his steel undershorts. The Yellow Knights all knew their duty and the short odds of success, so no speech was needed Chris decided. They turned the horses onto the southern path and began their slow but inexorable climb to the Druid Grove and their appointment with Circe.

Witney shouted “Stop” and the red silk Mogul Kashan skidded sideways, but it was too late. Sindy and Witney were thrown clear as the Kashan collided with an enormous Bukkabrany. The Kashan was toast and the Bukkabrany tree barely moved. Witney turned to Sindy and said “Eh, it was a rental.”

Sindy Laughed. The Kashan, before the tree had decided to jump into the middle of the path, was already reduced to a threadbare carpet by Witney’s fast driving. The fringe in the rear was all worn off by the continuous high speed diving and one side had a huge gouge in it where they had skidded against an abutment on a stone bridge over the River of Sticks.

Sindy dusted the dirt from her Levis and began the arduous task of picking the bugs out of her teeth. Witney reached toward Sindy’s forehead and pulled an enormous dead and very flat dragon fly from her. They both laughed.

Looming above them was Mount Sodom with its thin vent of smoke spewing into the sky. “Which route?” asked Witney.

Sindy went back to the Kashan opened the glove box and pulled out Remington’s Atlas of All Sims. She turned to the page she had turned down. Thank god Ms. Tarttle The Times Librarian was not here to see this. “Lets try the eastern route it’s the closest”, said Sindy. Pointing to a well worn dirt path. There were several pilgrims or tourists clad in white trudging up the path. They seemed to be in a hurry. Sindy looked at the darkening sky. It would soon be sunset and it smelled like snow.

CHAPTER 43 - VOID

Brother Glutton, a follower of the Profit Hedon, was amazed at the number of seekers who were climbing the mountain path below the Holy Hot Springs and Spa of the Profit of Hedon. He stood staring at the procession trying to determine what was happening. It was difficult to concentrate, as it always was at the Hot Springs and Spa. The thin lovely hand of an acolyte and third class nymphet Cynthia Morenmore, kept caressing his wet thigh. A first class nymphet was twirling and dancing on the tiny island near the everlasting brook of Merlot, not far from the feasting tables and love couches of the Grotto of The Eighth Sense.

Cynthia’s eyes pleaded for more, but Brother Glutton knew an opportunity when it grabbed him. Quickly he gathered several acolyte nymphets and several bronzed studs clad in leather chaps and nothing else. Together they moved three feasting tables to the roadside and set up signs of welcome and hospitality. On one feasting table they laid out roasted squab, heaps of the illegal Pate Faux Gras, piles of fresh bread, and bowls of pickled pig’s feet. On another table they laid out tankards of ale, flagons of rose wine, and dozens of cold cans of Apple Juice for the young ones. On the third table at one end, a nymphet and a stud danced the little jig of blessed anticipation. At the other end Brother Glutton stood and called to the seekers to stop, rest, wash their feet, and visit the Temple of Hedonism.

The winds above Mount Sodom were powerful but the Dread was up to the task. Punky had her steaming directly between the two peaks at The Dread’s maximum altitude and aimed straight for the border of Clissa. There was very little daylight left. They were cruising at the unimaginable speed of 62 knots and the engines were screaming and pumping out mule power at astonishing levels. Once past the twin peaks of the mountain, they planned to remain at a high altitude until The Dread was over the Plaza of the Capital of Clissa. Then they planed to descend quickly and land in the vicinity of the large statue seen on the sky photos. When onlookers or authorities arrived they planned on asking them to take them to their leader. She was sure that the Glorious Leader and the Great Leader would see the crew of the Dread. They had dispatches from Governor Linden and from Bradford Cananticle Monforte IV, Royal, Dauphan of Second Life, Associate Professor, and famed historian, and recent former Head of the Anti-Monarchist Party. They would deliver the dispatches, yield Little Ben into the safe hands of the GL&GL and then return to the Capital

Punky slipped the skeleton key into the cast iron dispatch box and opened it slowly. She glanced at the large stained blue envelope sealed with Yellow Ceiling Wax and bearing the seal of the Monforte Dynasty. Next to it lay a similar envelope with the return address of Governor Linden. A third yellow envelope lay in the box as well. Printed on the face of the envelope was written ‘IF ALL FAILS, READ ME.’ Rather rude thought Punky who put a great premium on polite behavior and language. She decided to put the yellow envelope in her pocket. You never recognize failure until its sitting on your head thought Punky. Best to have the instructions at hand.

Daggy and Tek had cleaned up Little Ben and dressed her in a mix of Punky’s trousers and Daggy’s dress shirts. She wore Tek’s socks which Daggy had to wash over and over again in one of the boilers before she was satisfied. They were quite clean and had shrunk to fit Little’s little feet. Little was sleeping soundly in Punky’s bunk. Tek was watching her carefully.

“She’s doing a lot better now,” said Daggy coming forward and resuming her position in the mission commander’s chair. “A lot better.” She sighed as she sat and strapped herself into position. “I just can’t understand how our popular culture could be so insane and cruel, and so driven by our continual need for greater excess and increased titillation, as to submit Little Ben to these trials and torture. It’s a real indictment of modern life.”

“That’s heavy,” said Punky. “But I still like ‘SL Idols’, and the ‘Women’s Mud Wrestling and Tanning Federation’ programs.” Daggy shook her head. Punky checked the direction heading carefully. 220 degrees it read. Punky had put a bit of red tape on that spot on the direction heading meter so she would not get lost.

Daggy looked at Punky with resignation.

Punky handed Daggy the flight plan. Daggy took the map and stared at it for a moment. It was almost perfect she thought. Carefully laid out. Fuel calculations to the third decimal point. Neat dotted lines carefully laid out. The she turned it around. And again. “Punky” Daggy said “which way is north?”

Punky looked at Daggy with a stupid grin. That way she said as she pointed out the window.

“Sheesh” said Daggy. Gimme the street walker. Daggy punched a few buttons. And quickly she said, “Bring her around to 140 and reduce airspeed to 40 knots.”

“Aye, aye Mam”, said Punky. She loved it when Daggy gave orders.

Samuel Spud lay sleeping on an enormous down bed in the Peoples House of the Palace of the Glorious Leader and Grand Leader of the Peoples Republic of Clissa. He was thinking hard. Next to him lay the lithe and nimble form of Dotty. Dotty rolled over clutching a mink pillow to her chest, but exposing her belly button to Samuel. It was an outty and it drove Samuel crazy with desire.

“Ohh silly boy,” said Dotty. “Just say the word. If you do ill be so nice to you.”

Samuel was getting the point. He had been getting the point all afternoon and into the early evening. Dotty was persistent and he knew it was pointless to resist her demands any longer. Besides the refractory period was almost over so he had to make up his mind quickly before he lost it again.

“Yes I’ll do it,” Samuel said with great determination. “Yes its time for me to take my place in the icy cold of Clissa and run this place with real efficiency and cruelty.”

Dotty reached forward and dropping the mink pillow she kissed him. He reached for her, but she jumped back. “You silly boy,” she said. “Before I give you what you want, you need to give me the security question and the answer.”

Samuel could barely remember his own name at a time like this, but he paused for a moment to remember the security question. “What was your high school mascot?” he said.

Dotty smiled as she stood up and dropped all pretenses. “And the answer you naughty little boy?”

“Cyanea capillata”, Samuel said with a sigh.

Dotty laughed her naughty laugh and said “Little boy, you stay here. I’m going to the loo to get extra hot, I wont be long.” She giggled that girlish giggle that drove Samuel mad. She grabbed her little hand bag and sashayed toward the bath, the she turned and raised her bag. “I’ve got a magic toy in my bag, its going to drive you wild little boy,” said Dotty as she closed the door.

Samuel jumped up and down a few times on the bed and then lay down face up looking at the mirror covered ceiling. “I shall be the new Great Leader and Glorious Leader,” he said out loud. “And my first decree shall be to Dotty. Roll over Dotty, I command thee.”

Samuel began singing, he never sang, but this evening he burst into song.

We’ve tried it once or twice
And found it rather nice
Roll me over lay me down and to it again

Roll me over in the clover,
Roll me over lay me down and do it again

Oh this is number one
And the fun has just begun…

Samuel was very right. The fun was about to begin throughout all of Clissa.

The Goddess of Snow was disturbed from her sleep by the roar of engines on Mount Sodom. Her son, Demi-god K2 whispered to her mother, “I don’t know what it is mother, but it’s very very loud.”

“All I want is a good century’s sleep,” said the Goddess of Snow. “Just a short nap of a few hundred years.” She was annoyed and on the edge of anger. She said an oath, a prayer actually, or an order perhaps to the sky gods, who knows. The result was the same. The Goddess of Snow rolled over in her bed of soft clouds and went back to sleep.

It began to snow all over the mountain. Heavy snow.

Night had fallen and Punky was holding a direct course toward Clissa. She knew it was correct because Daggy kept correcting her. The wind had picked up and what she could see of the clouds said rain or, for a dirigible the worst thing possible – snow and ice. She was getting hungry but she had passed up the chance to make a sandwich snack.

Keeping The Dread aloft and completing their mission was taking total concentration. Daggy was carefully studying the flight plan and continually referring to the street walker. There was no chance to shoot the stars in the cloud infested skies. They had lost sight of the ground as soon as they passed the twin peaks of Mount Sodom. The airship was socked in by clouds and fog. Daggy had had Punky drop altitude to about 300 meters above the ground but they could see nothing. Fearing a collision Daggy had Punky bring her back to 2000 meters. A flash of light appeared on the left followed by a roll of thunder 30 seconds later.

“We’re there,” said Daggy to herself.

“What,” yelled Punky.

“We’re here, the Plaza should be directly below us.”

Punky reached for the speed control and slowed the ship down and let her settle into neutral headway against the wind. Punky stood and gripped the UP&DOWN wheel. Slowly the Dread descended. At 500 meters Daggy started calling out the altitude.

“500 meters,” Daggy said loudly.

Punky turned the wheel more.

“400 meters,”

Punky held her hand steady.

“300 meters,” said Daggy

“200 meters, ease her back a little Punky.”

“Aye aye Mam,” responded Punky sharply.

“150 meters.

“100 meters”

“50 meters, level off” yelled Daggy.

Punky moved the wheel just a tad and the ship moved into neutral buoyancy.

They could see nothing. It was completely grey. The fog and rain obscured everything.

“Kees,” yelled Daggy. “Time for a Mark Twain.”

Kees came sliding down the ladder, already suited up for a night excursion. He smiled as he attached his carabineers and figure eight to the rope hanging from the retraction wheel. Daggy pulled open the lower hatch, and wind and fog came spilling into the comfortable warm gondola. Daggy played out 70 meters of rope, more than enough for Kees to reach the ground.

Kees saluted and was gone.

Daggy held the retraction lever in one hand and the other held the taut rope feeling for rope signals denoting Kees progress.

Time passed. Too much time thought Punky.

“Daggy,” Punky said, “its taking too long, something is wrong.”

Daggy was starting to be concerned herself. Then she felt two tugs on the rope. Daggy pushed the retraction lever hard and the reel began to spin. So fast that the rope began to steam. As Kees shot into the gondola Daggy threw the lever into the locked position and the dogs took hold. The reel screamed and then a sharp thud was heard as the dog latches fell into place.

Kees was soaking wet. He pulled his baklava from his face, and shook his wet hair. He looked at Daggy and then at Punky in amazement.

“Its gone,” Kees yelled. “Gone”

Daggy yelled “What do you mean gone. It can’t be gone. A city can’t just disappear.”

Kees took a deep breath, “I tell you its gone… not just the plaza or the city. The entire sim is gone. Its just not there.”

Daggy looked at Punky. Punky looked at Daggy. Tek and Kees looked at both of them. Little Ben slept.

“*&^$%” said Tek “Clissa’s account must have been cancelled.”
Punky reached for the yellow letter that said ‘IF ALL FAILS, READ ME.’

CHAPTER 42 - AMAZON KNIGHTS

A squad of Sisters of The Order dumped a bound and gagged Ed Hallard onto the floor of a large white tent set up on the lower slopes of Mount Sodom. Sister Letum reached down and tore the duck tape from Ed’s eyes and lips. He winched as a portion of his eyebrows departed with the tape. Ed was relieved, at least he could now see. He looked up at the Sisters, they were no longer clad in traditional nun’s attire, but were dressed as Ed imagined barbarian or Amazon women would dress. But among the leather halters, and animal skin leggings, with hide straps and feathers and blotches of blue face paint, Ed could see that they were heavily armed both with traditional weapons of iron and flint, but also modern weapons of steal and lead.

“So,” said Ed, “You dropped the sham religious cover and have returned to your vile Druid ways.”

Sister Letum smiled and then kicked Ed hard. “Infidel,” sister Letum hissed.

They had brought Ed a great distance in all manner of conveyances. They left Capital City in private Rapido car, and then after hours transferred to a Turkoman. For about six hours the ride had been reasonably smooth and Ed managed to get badly needed, if uncomfortable, sleep. The road became very rough and the jolting went on for another four or five hours. After a brief stop, Ed was tied to the saddle of a horse. He was blindfolded but he could feel the warmth of the sun as it rose, and he could tell that they were climbing higher and higher.

Ed sensed they were among a large throng of moving people. He could hear the sound of hundreds of shuffling feat and the encouragement of some who urged others to keep up with the pace. The crowd was not disciplined and children’s voices could be heard. Ed knew they were ordinary city dwellers by their speech and they parted in fear to make room for his armed escorts on horseback. They were just ordinary avatars. ‘Seekers’ Ed realized, here to get their names in the Book of the Righteous.

As he lay upon the tent floor, and with great effort, Ed looked up to examine his surroundings. The tent was large and was set up as a small chapel with an altar at one end and two dozen portable pews. There were wooden crates stacked at one side. Ed had seen a lot of freight in his career and he recognized the unusual shape of the crates as well as the stenciling on the side which read ‘Bofours’ or ‘Krupp’. Serious hardware thought Ed.

Ed thought about escape, but his duty was clear so he rested gathering his strength.

After an hour of so, Sister Letum returned with a squad of The Orders “Left Hand of Circe”. They were heavily armed with matching spears with razor sharp tips, ancient damascene swords, and high tech night vision goggles hanging at their side.

“Come to kick me again,” said Ed, “it felt kind of nice.” Ed smiled. Ed knew she wouldn’t do anything rash. They needed Ed and their plan could not be completed without his cooperation. At least his initial cooperation, for eventually they would kill him and in a very ugly way.

Ed could see Sister Letum considering his offer.

Then she turned to the squad and said “Clean him up. Mother Superior will be here soon.” She looked hard at Ed and Ed could see pure hatred in Sister Letum’s eyes. “And find those robes he needs to wear. Clean him up real good.” She smiled.

For the first time since the sinking of the Duckpin II Ed felt real fear.

Ed was untied and dragged out a side entrance of the tent. An ice cold stream flowed swiftly next to the tent. They were on the edge of a precipice and Ed could see hundreds of avatars of all ages and types dressed in simple white cotton robes slowly climbing the steep path hundreds of feet below. They were having a hard time, Ed could tell, because many were stumbling or lying beside the edge of the path to rest. The air was thin at this altitude. City dwellers thought Ed.

As the squad of the Left Hand of Circe stood guard, two burly and very strong women dressed in animal skins and brown leather thongs with ponderous bare breasts stripped Ed and forced him into the icy water. They picked up some stones and began vigorously scrubbing Ed. They were pumice stones realized Ed and they hurt. Ed glanced up and saw the twin peaks and volcanic smoke of Mount Sodom.

SISTER LETUM 'THE LEFT HAND OF CIRCE' ON THE APPROACH TO MOUNT SODOM
The Muse of Journalism read Jimmy’s report carefully. Sindy had left The Times in a great hurry and probably left the city by now. The Muse considered his options. He liked the idea of living but he hated living in the sub basement. It was cold and damp and Jimmy was hardly the kind of companion he preferred at night, or for that matter at any time.

There was an old speaking tube somewhere in the basement near the janitorial management station. It had been abandoned when The Times ‘downsized’ and fired all the janitors during a strike. At first the ‘journalists’ objected to cleaning the toilets and sweeping the floors, but they eventually accepted the task when the bathrooms became unbearable and floors so littered with Styrofoam boxes and rotting tuna fish sandwiches that movement was impossible. In a few months The Times had hired dozens of new “copy boys” like Jimmy. The muse laughed. Copy boys were dirt cheap and cleaning toilets was a lot like journalism.

Jimmy was on assignment. He was on his way to Khrons for Pastrami on White, with mayo and lettuce, no mustard. It was a clever ploy on the Muse’s part. Since Jimmy got always it wrong, the Muse had a chance that a Pastrami on Dark Rye with brown mustard would soon arrive.

Jimmy’s earlier copy, a piece on the Architectural Splendor of the Art Décolleté Lobby of the Times Building, had indicated that lots of odd people were milling about on the streets and in the lobby of The Times building. “There not journalists,” Jimmy had said, “They don’t have pencils behind their ears and no notebooks or blackburys.” The Muse knew who they were, even it Jimmy didn’t.

The muse decided to act. In the name of journalism and a free press he would act. In truth he badly wanted a bath and the ministrations of Miss Taut. The muse grabbed a crayon and began writing. After an hour or so Jimmy returned, but before he could descend the stairs the Muse yelled at him and told him to go to the presses and see if any odd people were there. “I want an article on the Splendor of the Mighty Harris V55 ‘Thunder’ Presses,” ordered the Muse of Journalism “Oh and toss me my lunch.”

Jimmy was disappointed because he really was hungry and wanted a bit of the Mackerel Salad on Crustini that he had been instructed to get for the Muse, but an assignment was an assignment. He was a professional journalist. “I will obey O Mr. Muse of Journalism, I shall obey,” said Jimmy.

After Jimmy had gone the Muse of Journalism climbed the ladder into the basement of the times. As he approached the Murdstone Family Mausoleum he tip toed past the door. The last thing he needed was a screaming competition with his daughter Jaloux. Soon he reached where the janitor’s management station should have been located. There was nothing there but yesterdays news papers piled to the ceiling. They has pulled out the desk and chair and used the space to increase The Times circulation numbers. The Muse climbed through the bundles of papers and eventually reached the wall. Bingo! There was the speaking tube and its rotary director.

“Ha, ha,” chuckled the Muse. He pulled the cork like plug from the speaking horn and turned the rotary to station 7. He blew hard into the horn. Nothing happened. He blew again and again. He was close to hyperventilating when he heard a small voice say from the tube “Hello, who is there.”

His heart was racing. He gathered himself together and yelled into the tube. “Mss Taut, stop the presses. Get your pen and write down this front page lead.”

The familiar voice of Mss Taut began crying at the other end of the tube. The muse heard a small voice say, “Yes Mr. Murdstone.”

Tears of joy thought Ruprecht, tears of joy.

Chris tugged for a third time on the shoulder strap holding up his breastplate. “This used to fit,” said Chris to Philpot Onus.

“You were a lot thinner then,” said Philpot. “I’d say you need a 44 long” Philpot turned and began rummaging about in the ancient and dusty armory of the Brick Layers Secret Society. After a short while Chris found a breastplate that would fit, but the steel plate undershorts were a bit small and chaffed. They would have to do, they had to move out immediately if they were to arrive at Mount Sodom in time.

Chris and Philpot clanked into the closed courtyard of the Temple of Enlightenment and Tax Deductions of the Brick Layers Secret Society. The seven Yellow Knights of the Revolution were lined up in review before him. Chris sighed. Not a single knight was less than 80 years old. Their mismatched armor, shields, and weapons were almost painful to see. However each was adorned with a new bright yellow cape that hung from their necks, across the back of their saddles, and descended to the belly of the pony. At least Chris had gathered or ‘borrowed’ 20 tough Mongolian polo ponies from the Detached Palace of the Monforte’s. Sir Gandorlf of the Yellow Knights of the Revolution, also known as Old Nefunst the Cobbler, was wheezing and coughing. His pony was skittish. We had better get going Chris thought.

Chris and Philpot rose upon their mounts. Philpot Onus raised the Banner of the Yellow Knights of the Revolution, Bearers of the Concordat of Abdication, and Brothers in Arms to Mofo the Brave and Very Dead. Chris pushed the button on the automatic gate opener and the great iron gate of the Temple slowly opened, its script unused for hundreds of years. The procession of Yellow Knights ambled slowly, but with determination, out the ancient gate and on to Beast Street. Their yellow banner was billowing stiffly in the brisk wind. The shields of the Knights reflected the winter sunlight and dazzled the onlookers. Gasps of astonishment could be heard from the crowd.

A pert young secretary with wire rimed glasses and sensible shoes standing on the stairs at the Reserve Bank was most surprised. Her mouth fell open at the splendor of the slow procession of the Yellow Knights. She was momentarily blinded by the gleam of the breastplates of the two lead Knights. Then she grabbed her me-Phone and began dialing. “Station 43 reporting, you won’t believe this but the Knights are on the move” she said. And then after a long pause she continued, “No I’m not kidding, they are on the move down Beast Street, and No, I’m not joking.”

As the knights in all their glory passed The Times building, a news urchin came running from the side entrance and into the street. “Extra, Extra, Read All About It, Plot To Overthrow Governor and Bring Back King, Extra Extra.”

CHAPTER 41 -SPEED

Sindy was plagued with nightmares. They were frightful. Her soul was tormented by devils. Her long gone saintly parents were writhing in flames, flaming brimstone bombarded her and the screams of the suffering sinners was deafening. In the heat, smoke, and flames Sindy saw a loving Adel. Adel became her mother when her family died. But why would Adel make her suffer so. The loving Adel stood with her whip in her hand and every time she struck Sindy she would shout “Circe loves you Sindy” or “Circe loves all sinners Sindy.” Sindy looked up and flames burst from the eyes and mouth of Adel. The souls of the doomed screamed again and again. The sounds of torment were deafening.

Sindy awoke from her nightmare. She was screaming. Her bed, in the Penthouse of the Time Building, drenched in sweat. Sindy swung her feet over the edge of the bed. Sindy held her head and cried. Her elbows on her knees. Her cheeks in her hands. Tears falling upon the soft green rug. She cried, and then her cries turned to sobs.

Sindy Blazer was alone in the world. Only Adel seemed to care for her, but the price paid for that care and love was high. A high price, and immoral price, a price sure to bring death and destruction. And Sindy knew with certainty that Adel had not placed Sindy’s name in the Book of the Righteous. In the coming restoration of the Monarchy and the return of the Druid Priestess to Power, Sindy was certain that she would be included among the innocent, the faultless, and the simple avatars who did not accept the love of Circe. That spelled a fate worse than death.

Sindy stood. She rubbed her eyes.

Get a grip, she thought. Get a grip.

She walked to the bathroom, or the bathroom suite, and drew a glass of cold water. She took a sip and then a long drink. She looked in the mirror. Who am I she wondered? Am I Sindy Blazer, Daughter of Sandy and Thomas Blazer? Am I the obedient loving child of Mother Superior Adel Flossberg? Am I the Editor of The Times or a pawn of a conspiracy to control the press in a time of crisis?

Sindy stared long and hard at the image in the mirror. She took a deep breath. Sindy heard a soft scuffling sound. She turned. Nothing was there. Get a grip.

The Sindy turned and ran to her closet, or the suite of closets, and began throwing her clothes onto the floor. She picked out a few items, mostly old, warm, and worn, and some track shoes. She quickly dressed. She paused a moment and considered. Then she opened a heavy drawer and drew out a flat black P99. She felt its weight and balance and then returned it to the drawer. “This is not right,” she said to no one. She reached in again and chose the more lady like First Line Security laser sighting sling shot. Then she grabbed the back pack Sparkle had left and stuffed it with packs of ¾ inch 72 count marbles and two spare sets of power bands.

She walked to Ruprecht Murdstone’s desk and picked up the phone. To a voice on the other end of the line she said, “Give me Blurts, now!”

“Yes Mam,” said the voice on the end of the line

“Oh, and have the cook send up breakfast, yes, yes I know its midnight. Send it up. In a bag or box, I’m taking it with me. Coffee in a thermos. Step on it.”

In a moment another voice came on the line. “Hello is Blurts, How can I help you have a most wonderful day. This call may be monitored for quality control and blackmail. Please press one if you can wait on the line for over an hour, press two if you want to review your options. Your satisfaction is our most important asset. Hello this is …”

Sindy pressed 9, the number for Blurts Sucker Club Gold Line Card, and a different voice said “How can help you have a most wonderful day. This call may …”

“Shut up,” Said Sindy I’m calling for Ruprecht Murdstone of Lupine News. The voice on the other end literally gulped.

“What’s the fastest thing you have available within in an hour? Money is no object, but it has to be fast, really fast? said Sindy.

Sindy had decided to take a stand, and that decision was not to stand with Adel.

Sindy next phoned Witney ‘Half Nelson’ Llanfair. The phone rang only once and answered.

“Yo, you found me,” said Witney. There was a party going on wherever Whitney was.

“Hi Whitney, it’s me Sindy”

“Hey keep it down back there!” shouted Witney. The laughing and giggling stopped but the pulsating sound of a sub woofer could still be felt in Sindy’s bones on her end of the line.

“Ok Sin, what ya want?” asked Witney.

“Wanna drive the fastest car in Capital City, flat out, tickets be damned, on a hopeless mission which leaves far too late -- a mission to save Second Life.” shouted Sindy to ensure she could be heard above the music.

“You take the ticket points and the gas?” asked Witney.

“Yes, Witney, but were likely to get killed in either a fiery crash or at the hands of demons and devils.”

“Cool. Sounds good to me” replied Witney. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as you get here?”

Witney said “Smooth. Give me five to brush my hair and pack a bag.”

“Oh,” said Sindy. “You will need some heat. Were unlikely to make it back alive and we should make them pay.”

“The Order?” said Witney. “Don’t worry I can take care of myself.”

Witney hung up.

Sindy headed toward the lobby of The Times building

When she arrived she found Witney standing and waiting at the curb. The limo was running. Funstas was still missing. She looked very different from Witney the Chauffeur that Sindy thought she knew. Whitney the Chauffeur wore a grey uniform with a broad cap.

This Witney had several very noticeable piercing. A little stud in the left nostril was really cute thought Sindy. But the matching safety pin earrings made Sindy wince. And the tongue button, always a favorite with the boys, was a surprise. Whitney laughed and laughed again watching Sindy. “Fooled you didn’t I, they are paste ons” Just some goofy glue. I’m not so stupid as to defile this perfect temple of love,” Whitney said.

Sindy thought about her piercing and her temple of love. Sindy broke out laughing too.

This Witney was dressed in contemporary Punk Couture. She had a very tight tee shirt by Juggies. It was loaded with acid holes and Sindy could barely read the motto ‘Juicy’s Do It Better.’ There was a lot of clean scrubbed pink flesh to contrast with the black tee and the bright red letters of the motto. She was wearing draw sting pants in a kind of greenish grey. The waist was way too large and the draw string was drawn up tight. It was the look of the moment. Sindy knew this because she had written this in the society column called ‘Social Bits and Bites’ in last week’s paper. It had to be true.

Witney toped off her look with custom built C14RCA Lopet Women's 300 Skate Shoes. Those were really expensive thought Sindy. She looked closely at Witney’s feet.

“Yup,” said Witney, “All weather adnausium skate balls.”

“Wow, those must have cost a fortune.”

“Birthday gift from Dad,” Witney said with a hint of pride. "No convictions for a year!"

“Let’s go,” said Sindy and the jumped into the front seat of the Limo. Sindy had never seen the separate front drivers compartment before. As Witney pulled away, red lights and siren blowing, the streets empty and dark, she realized that Witney lived in the Limo. It was set up like a small executive efficiency apartment in one of the expensive executive dives on Soused Street. Sindy saw the microwave, the youtube station, a hair dryer, a folding screen behind which Sindy discovered an amazingly versatile wardrobe. “Witney we got to do a story on your apartment,” said Sindy.

As they raced down beast street Sindy saw an enormous pilar of fire burning south of the Capital. It was the Capital CIty Sports Stadium

As they passed the Blurts guard shack Witney noticed a bright shiny red silk Mogul Kashan with plate numbers indicating it was fresh off the loom. Witney turned to Sindy and said. “Give me your card.” Sindy passed her Blurts Sucker Club Gold Line Card. Witney pulled an enormous wad of lindens from her rucksack. “Stay here,” she said.

Sindy stayed behind and watched as Witney walked through the large glass doors. Within a few moments Witney was shouting. Sindy could hear a flood of foul language that made even her experienced ears turn red.

“%^$#, what do you mean Ardabil, you *&$^% of a *&%^#”

Sindy reached for her notebook she was hearing a new vocabulary and she needed to keep up with the social trends. Yesterday’s swear words are today’s honorifics and love talk. More words came gushing out. Sindy watched as Witney reached across the counter and grabbed the skinny Blurts agent’s necktie and practically pull him over the counter and directly into her face. More exhilarating vocabulary and Sindy wrote furiously. The clerk handed a set of keys to Witney and she kissed him. He was very frightened and a yellow puddle had formed below the counter. As Witney turned she paused for a moment and looked back at the frightened counter agent and threw a huge wad of cash at him.

As they ran to the red Kashan Sindy said to Witney, “That was a lot of cash.”

Whitney replied “Don’t worry my Dad prints the stuff in his basement.”

“That was a thing of beauty,” commented Sindy, “a thing of beauty!”

They leapt onto the carpet. Whitney wriggled her bottom into the soft cushions of the Kashan and said “Start.”

The flying carpet rose a meter and roared loudly. A flock of pigeons took flight from a tree half a mile away. Then the Kashan calmed down a bit, but the sound was powerful, and Sindy could feel the pent up energy surging throughout the carpet waiting to be unleashed and converted into pure speed.

“Sweet,” said Whitney as she smashed down the forward button.

CHAPTER 40 - AIR SPEED AND ALTITUDE

The Mammut brown rope spun wildly into the retraction reel above the belly hatch of the gondola. Daggy had her hand tightly gripped on the activation lever and as a dark form suddenly appeared Daggy shoved the lever into full stop. The reel slammed to a screeching stop as the latches took hold. Kees Kepler, pulled off his black baklava and laid down Little Ben to the deck plates.

“No sweat.” said Kees as he began to climb the gangway to the engineering station above.

Daggy looked at the crumpled form before him. Daggy put her arms around Little Ben and helped her to her feet.

“Don’t worry Little Ben,” said Daggy in as soothing a voice as a 20 year navy girl can say. “Don’t worry, you’re in the safe hands of the Blue Navy now. Don’t worry.”

Little Ben was shivering and her tear filled eyes broadcast fear and terror of a kind Daggy had never seen. Daggy had seen a lot of inhumanity in her life but nothing compared to this. Daggy was becoming a mix of intense compassion and boiling rage.

Punky turned in the pilot’s seat as the Dread sped away at 42 knots and was approaching 2200 meters in altitude. “Is she ok?” shouted Punky above the scream of the engines and the escaping steam of the double boilers.

“I don’t know,” replied Daggy, “I don’t know. Poor girl.”

Daggy knew what to do. Daggy picked up Little Ben. Little weighs practically nothing at all thought Daggy. Little was shivering, hypothermic and probably starved realized Daggy. He carried Little to the showers near the hydrogen separators. Steam power provided many advanced technological advantages, but an advantage they every sailor appreciated the most was hot showers. They had plenty of hot water in the Dread and the spacious showers were real morale boosters.

Daggy quickly stripped the rags from Little’s body. She was covered in filth, scars, small animal bites and other abuse too horrible to contemplate. Daggy grabbed the shower handle and threw it to hot. Then Daggy paused. No, not hot, thought Daggy. Hypothermia was a deadly condition. Better to start tepid and then bring it up to hot. Daggy set the setting to tepid and placed Little under the rich stream of flowing pure water. Little winched, to her frail cold body the tepid water was scalding hot. In a few moments she passed out from exhaustion. Daggy held Little up, and with her foot pulled a small aluminum stool to the shower. Daggy slid Little down onto the stool and held her up. Daggy began softly washing Little with a bar of Old Navy soap.

Daggy kicked open the shower door with her foot and shouted, “I need warm broth, clear broth and I need it now!”

Tek ran to the galley and found a can of Clumpetts Consommé Soup. He opened the can and poured it into a paper cup. Tek checked carefully, there was no pointy end on the cup. Daggy had banished pointy ended cups before the flight. The cup went into the steam cabinet and Tek pulled the handle down firmly and let go. The handle rose slowly as the cabinet filled quickly with steam.

“And I need warm dry blankets, Now!” shouted Daggy.

As the soup heated, Tek ran aft and from his bunk he pulled a navy issue scratchy blanket. He smelled it and frowned. He grabbed Punky’s blanket and tossed it into the bread warmer.

“Bzzzurrpp”, went the steam cabinet. “Ding,” went the bread warmer.

Tek grabbed the cup of soup and the blanket and ran to the shower door. He opened the door and looked upon the frail and crumpled form of Little Ben. Tek averted his eyes to save Little any embarrassment, but she was unconscious. Daggy took the soup and blanket and Tek left closing the door slowly behind him.

“&^%$, *&)#&,” Punky heard Tek say. Tek never used those kind of words Punky knew. It must be really bad.

But Punky had her hands full. She was plotting a course to Clissa, and to the Plaza in their capital. On her clipboard she had the latest weather report, and on her lap she had a map board with a protractor and divider. Airspace in Clissa would be guarded she knew, so they would have to take the long way around and approach the Capital of Clissa from Sodom Mountain. No one would expect an approach from the disputed lands. All sides in the recent Sim dispute would not risk offending Governor Linden by violating his directive concerning the Sodom Mountain area. But Punky hoped to be in and out of there before anyone noticed or complained.

The Chair was reliving his misspent youth as he piloted Old 47 “The Spirit of Io” toward Sodom Mountain. It was tight in the little blimp gondola and Old 47 smelled of cedar and naphthalene.

Muffin was taking a bath in his porti-tub. His household staff, all members of the Assassin’s and Au Pairs Union, were busy attending upon him. Mrs. Gellwatt was sorting though suitable disguises for the Monforte heir to wear on the long climb up the mountain. She was trying to decide between a pink bunny suit with pointy ears, or a Zorro costume with a red sash and a plastic sword. Molly Parsnip, another household staff member held a large paintbrush in one hand and a bucket of Killey’s Erasure Paint in the other. She was busy painting out the stenciled lettering on all the crates and portmanteau’s which indicated that the royal presence was present.

Muffin was singing in the bath. It was the only place where he sang that it was bearable. Muffin was signing songs of the Old Andirons Sailing Club. He was on the third section, the one about the captain.

“Friggin in ta riggin,
Friggin in ta riggin,
Friggin in ta riggin,
Theres nothings else to do.

The captain of ta lugger
Is jus a filthy bugger,
He wasn't fit to shovel stuff
From one place to another”

The Chair laughed loudly as he returned his attention to the flight controls. As a young new pilot he had been given command of New 47 and most of his junior captaincy had been spent in ‘The Spirit of Io.” When the paperwork came over his desk many years later for sending Old 47 to the breakers, he could not bring himself to sign the death warrant. Instead he had her mothballed.

When he called her out the mechanics at the Aerodrome urged him to take a safer more modern blimp. But The Chair knew Old 47 was the right selection. He could fly her upside down in a hailstorm, with one hand on the wheel, the other hand holding an open bottle of Dom Pigeon, a gleaming Testosa Grande clenched in his teeth, and in his underwear. He knew he could do this because there was that night long ago when he did just that with the lovely Miss Iconoklass. The had both been in their underwear. Well at least The Chair was in his underwear. Ah, what fun, he remembered. Besides The Chair knew he did not have the training to fly the new high powered, fly by wire, models of the modern Blimp Cartel fleet.

The Chair noticed that the barometer was falling rapidly and that the wind had picked up significantly. The ship was barely making ten knots at 1000 meters and every once in a while she was buffeted and rattled by the air pockets and cloud purses. Greater altitude might avoid some of this weather, but she was at her operating ceiling. The sun would be setting in an hour and it was going to be a long long night of seat of the pants flying. One of the two steam engines was leaking badly and the pressure was wavering. He had checked the left coal auto feed shoot, but it was clear. However the chain drive kept slipping on a rusted cog wheel. It could not be fixed without a machine shop.

Mr. Slipps, Muffin’s Tea Caddy, was assigned the task of occasionally turning the cog wheel. Poor Mr. Slipps was so unused to anything other than serving tea and an occasional crumpet, that he constantly was apologizing to the cog wheel when it jammed and then his first reaction was to offer it a serving of hot tea.

“Ta Captain has a daughter
Who fell in ta deep sea water
Delighted squeals
revealed that eels
Had found er private quarters”

Muffin laughed even louder and his staff was shocked by his selection of tunes. This made Muffin laugh even more. He was having the time of his life.

Old 47 pitched hard to the left and the nose lifted sharply. Muffins bath sloshed and some soapy water spilled onto the deck. The Household staff was turning white and Muffin’s bat man, Mr. Garnaph, was getting airsick.

“I do apologize sir, shall that be Earl Jones, or Chamomile?” said a voice in the gondola.

Muffin started a new song.

“Singing bell bottom trousers,
Coat of navy-blue.
Let him climb the rigging
Like his daddy used to do.

Once there was a waitress
In the Prince George Hotel,
Her mistress was a lady
And her master was a swell.”

The Chair put the blimp on auto pilot and stood up. He was going to have to stop Muffin before he got to the final stanza. After all some decorum was always needed when in the royal presence.

“At sea without a woman
For seven years or more.
There wasn't any need to ask
What he was looking for.”

“Muffin, now Muffin. I think its time to get out of the tub. We have some rough weather ahead and I don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Darns,” said Muffin, but he knew The Chair was right.

He looked to Mr. Garnaph, and Garnaph, now well into lime green color, handed Muffin an enormous pink towel.

The ship shook again and this time she rode high in the tail. The autopilot struggled to recover and the wheels spun one way and then the other.

The Chair moved fast and grabbed the flight control. The ship returned to some semblance of level controlled flight.

Below The Chair could see Sticks River and the sun was about to set. In the distance, in the direction of Sodom Mountain, the thinnest sliver of a dying moon became faintly visible. The wind increased in speed and began to howl against the skin of the aged blimp. Her airspeed began to fall, and another gasket began to leak in her ancient boilers.