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FSFNET Fantasy Sci- fi magazine Vol.2 #1
1 +-+ +-+ +-+
+-+--+-+--+-+ VOLUME TWO NUMBER ONE
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| | BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine
___|___________|___ X-Edited by 'Orny' Liscomb <NMCS025@MAINE>
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CONTENTS
Editorial Orny
Narret Chronicles 6 Mari A. Paulson
Featured Author: ROBERT ANTON WILSON Orny
The Thrust Jim Owens
Game Review: TWILIGHT:2000 Guy Garnett
Island Murph
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Editorial
Greetings, all! Well, first let me apologize for the lateness of this
issue, but things have been going on mighty fast. Two-two will be out sooner,
I promise!
Well, this summer has a wonderful lineup of fantasy and science fiction
films, and I heartily suggest that you keep your eyes open for them. Also,
Terry Brooks' new Shannara book is out, as is a new book by Larry Niven and
Jerry Pournelle about an alein invasion of Earth, called "Footfall". FSFnet
is in need of some submissions (as always), and this is the first issue of
volume two, which will last through the summer, and then volume three will
begin in the fall. Now that summer is here, most people have gone home, and
FSFnet needs both contributors and members! Be sure and recruit people who
are into fantasy and SF for the zine, so we can continue to send it out. And
if anyone has any neeto ideas about a special issue, by all means, speak to
me!
For those of you at VAX/VMS and MVS nodes, FSFnet is being sent out in a
new manner which can send the file by CMS DISK DUMP or SENDFILE. I have taken
the liberty of using sendfile for those nodes for which DISK DUMP is awkward;
however, if you have trouble reading FSFnet in, just drop me a line, and I'll
work on it. Aiming to please, you know...
Well, have a great summer, all! And send in those reviews and so forth,
and spread the word! Now on to the REAL stuff...
Orny <NMCS025 @ MAINE>
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The Narret Chronicles
Book the Sixth
Samo flew over the nighttime skies of North America, his mind reeling. "The
largest urban centers will have the highest photon emissions." Samo said to
himself. "Shock waves travel through this mainly nitrogen medium at lets see,
exactly, yes, that should do it. Now all I've got to do is fly over a large
metropolitan area such as that one on the east coast, veer upward at an angle
of, yes and return from over the ocean at half that velocity. There. That
should do quite nicely," Samo continued as he set the controls on a course for
New York City.
Samo broke the sound barrier as he flew over Kennedy International Airport,
sending a sonic boom crashing through the city.
"Did you see what I think I saw, Albright?"
"I was just going to ask you the same question. I've never seen anything
like that radar pattern in my twenty-three years in this tower!"
"It looked rather like a ball, or a bubble. Say, do you think it could
have been a weather balloon?"
"No way. I've seen balloons before, and they're much smaller, besides that
thing, whatever it was, had to be doing at least Mach 3, and SR-71's only
reach Mach 2.2 at top cruising speeds! I'm calling Dover Control."
"Hello, Operator? Please connect me with Dover Air Force Base's Control
Tower, 301-716-2000, Person-to-person with Maj. Jeffries"
"Maj. Jeffries, here."
"Hi Bill, it's Jim Albright at JFK. Listen, we just got a bogie on two
screens, simultaneously that had a pattern similar to a weather balloon only
larger and it was doing about Mach 4. Are you boys testing a new toy, or is
this thing a possible threat?"
"Well Jim, I'll level with you. We've been monitoring it on the national
scopes, and we don't know what it is either. It came out of nowhere, suddenly
appeared over Chicago 15 minutes ago, Made a beeline for New York, headed out
over the Atlantic, and now it's starting back for the midwest. As to Soviet
threats, we've received no messages by diplomatic courier, and intelligence
has made no reports about any new aircraft. The 71's we keep on 24 hour
standby are being fueled, and we've got two of our best pilots suiting up for
an intercept."
"I hate to think of the possibilities if it is Soviet. A bird like that
could bomb any American city and escape completely unscathed before we could
even fire an anti-aircraft missile."
"We know, and the President is being notified. Say Jim I'll need to ask a
favor of you."
"Anything--name it."
"Make sure this stays under wraps for now. Inform your staff--anyone who
saw that thing, not to talk about it, the last thing this country needs right
now is a panic created by the press."
"Sure, you got it, we didn't see anything."
"Great, thanks. I've got to go now, but I'll let you know what
develops..."
"...Ah, NORAD, Seeker-1 here, this is Colonel Roberts, neither Captain
Phillips nor I have seen the bogie. What is it's present position? Over."
"Seeker-1, NORAD here, bogie heading 270 at 25,000 ft. slowed to Mach 2.
Fly on heading 285 at 25,000 full-open to intercept in 2.45 minutes. Over."
"NORAD, Seeker-1, proceeding 285 at Mach 2.2 . Roberts out ."
"What do you think we'll find sir?" Phillips asked.
"Your guess is as good as mine captain. But since you asked my opinion, I
think that ever since the top brass closed the Bluebook Project a lot of weird
things have happened."
"What kind of things sir?"
"Well it just seems to me that since the books have been closed on extra-
terrestrial visitation research the number of bogie sightings hasn't really
dropped. Now if most of the reported cases were hoaxes as the project's final
report states, then why do people continue to report sightings with the same
continuity as before. Even when they don't have the chance of our
investigating their story to back them up. I don't know captain, I just don't
know."
"You're right sir that doesn't make sense. Now this...could the soviets-"
"I know what you're thinking and the answer is doubtful. They couldn't even
get to the test level without our intelligence finding out. Besides, at the
briefing we were told the craft created a sonic boom at Mach 3 and the
russians don't have the metallurgical technology to create an alloy malleable
enough and heat resistant enough to prevent heat fatigue of the metal due to
air friction. "
"In other words your saying this bogie really could be extra-"
"I'm saying no such thing, Captain. I'm merely pointing out the
possibility that there is more out there than we are capable of understanding.
and that's all. I make no allusions as to what those possibilities are.
Listen Dave, I've given more than half my life to this Air Force, and there
are a few things I've learned. One of them is that if you come across
something you can't explain, and you're enjoying your career you don't ask
questions. Most likely there's someone who doesn't want you to know
something, and if you don't get curious, you'll be fine. I've lost more
pilots for "Disturbances of an emotional nature," than anything else. Is any
of this registering, captain?
"Uh, yes sir, sort of."
"'Uh, yes sir sort of.' What kind of cocka-maime answer is that son? Give
me a big 'Yes Sir!' or 'No Sir!'"
"Sir would you please look out your starboard window. It's the bogie,
three o'clock low!"
Mari A. Paulson
Ed. Note: This work is a piece of fiction. All characters, places, and events
portrayed in this work are fictitious. Any similarity with actual people,
places, or events, are disclaimed by the author and this publication.
"The Narret Chronicles" are copyrighted (C) 1985 by Mari A. Paulson
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Featured Author: ROBERT ANTON WILSON
Robert Anton Wilson is a very interesting author. His works deal almost
entirely with the Illuminati and other mystic horrors of the modern world.
Wilson's life has been filled with strange probings into all forms of the
occult, and he was a close friend with the late Professor Timothy Leary, a
well-known occultist.
Wilson's works began with the "Illuminatus!" series, originally written by
Wilson and Robert Shea as a parody of modern mysticism, the Illuminati, and
the U.S. government. "The Eye in the Pyramid", "The Golden Apple", and
"Leviathan" were originally meant to be farcical, written in a style similar
to that infamous style of James Joyce. The "Illuminatus!" series was
reprinted recently by Dell. The better-known "Schrodinger's Cat" trilogy (the
two other volumes being titled "The Trick Top Hat" and "The Homing Pigeons")
is a master work of confusion and fear, and is perhaps Wilson's best work.
"The Masks of the Illuminati" is a single volume work, describing the
encounters one Sir John Babcock has with Albert Einstein and James Joyce, and
the trick Aleister Crowley plays upon them all. "The Cosmic Trigger" is
Wilson's attempt to explain the events of his life that have convinced him
that there is something other than that which we know, and is very interesting
and persuasive. All the previous are available from Pocket Books. Also
available in hardcover only is "And the Earth Will Shake", a full-length novel
by Wilson.
Wilson's unique style cannot be adequately put into words. His writing
often tries to shock the reader, sometimes becomes philosophical, and
sometimes becomes disjointed, but his tales of the Illuminati are so
absolutely bizarre, and yet, somehow, plausible, that his books often leave
the modern reader horrified. Lovecraft and Chambers wrote of books that would
drive one insane to read. Wilson has created the horror that these authors
have written about. I once lent a copy of "Masks of the Illuminati" to a
friend. She reported to me that when she finished it one evening, she pulled
the sheets over her head and hoped she'd wake up sane in the morning.
Wilson's writing is truly unique.
Orny <NMCS025 @ MAINE>
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The Thrust
The forest stretched out as far as the eye could see, tall green pines and
spruce trees. But here there were no trees, only charred stumps. A long wound
had been made by the ship as it crashed. Now it lay, buried in dirt, inert.
Yet it was not a wreck. A repair ship stood beside it. The repair robots had
done a good job. The ship now had wings to replace those destroyed in the
brief but violent landing. Those new wings flexed as repulsor fields lifted
the ship into the air.
"Take care. Remember, wait until you get to op temperature before going to
full thrust. I'll take care of those bogeys."
"Roger, Gabriel. Have fun." The ship's main engine came to life gently
pushing the ship up into the afternoon sky.
One hundred miles away two interceptors rammed through the atmosphere.
The pilots watched in anger as the first ship slid across their radar scopes.
Then the repair ship rose up to replace it, and the pilots gleefully armed
their nuclear missiles when they saw that it was hovering.
Greg, alias Gabriel, watched his own detector scope in quiet joy. On one
side of the scope the blip representing the survey ship built up velocity. On
the other side the interceptors closed rapidly. The survey ship was not going
to be able to outrun the attacking craft before they could launch their
missiles. Greg didn't worry for the survey ship, though. He touched a few
controls, and the repair ship started to slide through the air at a right
angle to the path of the other ships.
The pilots of the interceptors considered. If they continued their pursuit
of the far craft, they might still catch it. On the other hand, the closer
craft was almost in range. They decided to take the closer, more sure victory.
At a distance of twelve miles, the interceptors fired their missiles.
They banked hard, and put as much distance as they could between themselves
and the target as they could. In the repair ship, Greg smiled as the scope
reported that the survey ship had reached operational temperature and had gone
to full thrust. With it safely out of the way, Greg could now leave. He
reached out and touched a button, just as the missiles fired their warheads.
Twenty miles away, the interceptor pilots' stomaches clenched in thrilled
excitement as they watched the blast through their flash goggles. Had they
been one hundred miles further away, they might have seen something even more
spectacular. In the instant before the nuclear explosion, a seemingly pencil-
thin line of violet flame drew itself five hundred miles straight up. It then
curved, as Greg punched in the command to go home.
Jim Owens <J1O @ PSUVM>
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Game Review: TWILIGHT:2000
"Division commander to all units: Good Luck, You're on your own." So ends
the player's introduction to "Escape form Kalisz", the starter scenario
included in GDW's new Role-playing Game, Twilight:2000.
Twilight:2000 is set in Europe in the year 2000, after a five year long
world war. World-wide casualties are over 50%, and rising. The governments
of most major countries (the US included) have been eliminated or fragmented.
Wide-spread convertional warfare and liberal use of both tactical and
strategic nuclear weapons has destroyed most communication and trade routes.
The Black Death (Bubonic Plague) has run rampant, and lingers in some areas.
Most major cities are radioactive ruins. The players are (or were) soldiers
in the US Army, part of the last NATO drive into Poland.
The primary objective of a Twilight:2000 player is to stay alive. If that
gets boring, he can also try to strike a blow for freedom, democracy, and the
Joint Chiefs of Staff (the de facto government of the United States).
Twilight:2000 consists of 2 rulebooks, one for the players, which describes
how to generate a character and conduct simple combat. The Play Manual (as GDW
calls it) has plenty of illustrations and examples. The Referee's Manual
covers many of the same topics as the Play Manual, but in greater depth. It
also includes sections on experience, disease, and the campaign background.
With the manuals are a set of tables, again divided into separate player's and
referee's charts. In the way of campaign support, GDW has included a detailed
price list and equipment descriptions separately from the rulebooks. There is
an introductory adventure, "Escape form Kalisz", to start the campaign, and a
map of Poland.
Twilight:2000's strong points include: Randomly rolled attributes, but the
player can select a character's skills. Character generation, while not
extremely fast, is straightforward. The combat system is detailed, and covers
all of the weapons in the game well.
On the other hand, Twilight:2000 is plagued by typos. Most of them are
easy to figure out (like switching from B for Back in the chartbook to R for
Rear in the manual) but can be confusing when they are first encountered.
Compounding this is the extensive use of abbreviations (all skill names are
abbreviated to 3 letters), again easy to figure out, but confusing untill you
are used to the system.
The only serious problem with the design is the heavy use of charts. The
referee really needs a copy of the Player's Manual, the Referee's Manual, and
the Referee's Charts open in front of him at all times. The combat system is
completely table-driven, which means that in combat the referee has to
organize his time, or forever flip through the chartbook.
All in all, Twilight:2000 may be the best new RPG released in the last
year, my complaints above notwithstanding. (I have many more gripes about
every other RPG I can think of) Twilight:2000 is complete all by itself, and
well worth the $17 price tag.
Guy 'WildStar' Garnett <GG822C @ GWUVM>
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4/1/85
Island
An island unto myself. Where I can sit and watch.
I can look around and see all the beautiful things.
The simple and the complex, the large and
The small, the conspicuous and the not-so-conspicuous.
I am in awe of it all, of them.
And they, of me. For I am here to care for
And protect them, to keep the balance.
I am here to prevent what happened the last
Time this project was attempted. Responsibility to
One's position was not my predecessor's strong suit.
It is so beautiful here. How could he have left
His garden unattended for so long? It was so
Unmanageable by the time he got back to it that it
Had to be razed and left barren for a mere eternity.
Well, it is beautiful now. And my task is to keep
It this way, maintain the balance. Not necessarily
An easy task, but an enjoyable one. Yes..., maintaining
The beauty while balancing the evolution will not be
Easy, but it will have its rewards. My garden will become
Something infinitely more special than it is already.
The sun is setting now for the sixth time. I shall rest tomorrow.
Michael Murphy <MURPH @ MAINE>
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XPAGE
1 +-+ +-+ +-+
+-+--+-+--+-+ VOLUME TWO NUMBER TWO
| | ==========================================
+___________+ FFFFF SSS FFFFF N N EEEEE TTTTT
| ++ | F S F NN N E T
| ++ | FFF SSS FFF N N N EEE T
| | F S F N NN E T
|_________| F SSS F N N EEEEE T
/___________\ ==========================================
| | BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine
___|___________|___ X-Edited by 'Orny' Liscomb <NMCS025@MAINE>
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
CONTENTS
X-Editorial Orny
Man's Best Friends Alex Williams
All's Well that Ends. Well... Cliff Thayer
Review: THE COLOUR OF MAGIC Orny
Alas, Babble On Jim Owens
Selection Orny
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X-Editorial
Well, greetings, all! Another issue of FSFnet has come, and I'm sure
you'll find this one rather refreshing. Due to circumstances beyond our
control, there is neither a featured author or a Narret Chronicles in this
issue, although both will continue in issue 2-3, with Narret 5 and a column on
Christopher Stasheff, author of 'The Warlock in Spite of Himself', 'The
Warlock Unlocked', 'King Kobald Revived', and 'Escape Velocity'.
But this issue contains some excellent works of fiction, including a
wonderful poem by Jim Owens (a poem I sympathize with), and my own newest
imaginings in 'Selection'. If anyone who receives this is still having
problems with the sending format, please let me know. I'd also like to
welcome those few people who have been added to the mailing list since May,
and hope that they will continue to spread the word to interested parties.
Well, enough of the propaganda... on with the show!
Orny <NMCS025 @ MAINE>
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Man's Best Friends
"You know John, the Telrani are man's best friends. And there is nothing
you can say that will change my view of them."
John Stevenson picked up his beer and resumed drinking it. He stared
blankly at the ring of moisture it left on the bar.
"I know that they have given us some good things...", he started.
"Some good things?!? What about the De-armatron? That's more than good,
John. That's the end of war. Flick the mother on and Zap! No weapons, even
nukes, work! And what about Super-Wheat? The solution for world hunger. Grows
anywhere. And the cures for all the diseases man has ever known. I just don't
understand you, John."
"I know what they've done, Dan. I just have a bad feeling about them. It's
just too good. One day a hundred flying saucers come out of the sky, some
aliens get out that look like Bigfoot, they say they are from Rigel and are
here to help us, and Wham! all the world's problems are solved. I just have a
funny feeling about it."
Dan took a pull at his drink, set it down and continued.
"And now they are offering trips to their home planet. What a deal!" So
what if when we get back everyone who knows will be dead or at least a hundred
years old, we're not married, so what do we care?"
"Yea, but..."
"No buts about it. I'm going. In fact I'm going in just a month. And get
this, so are you!"
John, who was drinking, suddenly sputtered and splashed beer all over the
bar.
"What?!?",he yelled,"How come you didn't ask me? How can we pay for it? I
don't want to leave Earth forever!"
"It isn't forever, only for 8 months, our time. It's free, and I didn't ask
you because I know you'd say no. Anyway we're going, so it's settled."
"No it isn't, but I have to go home, so we'll talk about it tomorrow."
"See ya, John."
"Later."
"Hi Dan! Whatcha lookin so pale for? Are you sick? Hey bartender, get this
man a drink!"
"Dan, last night I decided that I might as well go to Rigel with you. Hey,
I mean my 'funny feeling' is unfounded, and there's no reason why we
shouldn't. Right, Dan?"
Dan sat down, and stared straight ahead.
"John, you know how I taught myself the Telranian language and alphabet,
even though it's forbidden. Well I finally got a chance to use it. I found a
Telrani handbook yesterday for sale at a bookstore, and I bought it."
"But possesion of any Telrani text is illegal!"
"I know that, but I bought it anyway, just to see if I could read it. And
I could."
"Well, what was the book about?"
"The title was 'How to Serve Man', which they have been doing, right? The
De-armatron, Super-wheat, free interstellar trips, stuff like that."
"Yea, so what's wrong?"
"Well, I read the first chapter, and I thought I must have read it wrong,
so I read it again, and I found out I didn't."
"And?"
"It isn't a handbook on how to help us, Dear God John, it was a cook-
book!!"
Alex Williams
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All's Well That Ends. Well,...
The hall was dark, but the thief carried a torch, and could see rather
well. He needed to see, but he also knew where to look, and so his job was
made a little easier.
He moved his hand across the wall. It slid quietly, and then fell into a
recess. He edged his hand up and down what appeared to be a slot cut from the
floor to the ceiling. Near the bottom he found it; a break in the slot, where
the wall seemed uncut. He held the torch low. On the wall beside the break
there was what seemed to be a rectangular metal inlay. The thief knew better.
He set the torch into a wall bracket, and licked the palm of his hand well. He
then placed his hand, palm first, against the metal. He then pulled his hand
away suddenly. The inlay moved out just enough for him to get a grip on it.
He slid it out, revealing it to be a square steel peg. He took it and ran it
inside the top of the lower half of the slot. It caught, and he deftly slid it
up and out of sight. It just as easily slid out of the hole when he pulled his
hand away, however. He set it down, and took off his pack. Taking the tent out
of it, he once more inserted the peg. He then tossed the tent onto the floor a
short distance ahead. The floor sank perceptibly. The break in the slot also
moved, trying to slide into the wall. The peg caught it, and it stopped.
The thief crossed the drop-away floor, leaving behind his tent to hold the
peg in place, for his escape. He had already crossed three such floors, evaded
two patrols, crossed two revines, traversed endless dark halls, and even
outwitted a maze. If his source was correct, he was now home free.
His target was a small ceremonial table. It was gold, with gems set in each
corner. Legend had it that it had never been touched since it had been set in
its place eons ago. No one had even approached it, only gazed on it from a
distance. Now he wanted to take it.
He walked down the hall. His source had been a priest once, and had studied
this temple. He knew how the traps worked, and what the walls and floors would
look like when a trap was built in. The thief now recognized such a pattern in
the walls. A low ceiling, with square pillar lining the walls. That meant that
the roof would drop on him if he put weight on the center of the floor without
putting weight first on sides near the walls. He accordingly edged along the
wall, and was soon past.
That was the last trap. He turned the corner, and there was the altar room.
Rich furnishings lined the wall, but he had eyes only for the gold table on
the far wall.
He walked fearlessly forward. Nothing impeded him as he went to claim his
prize. He lifted it off its stand, although not without some effort, as it was
very heavy. He turned, and staggered down the steps. He reached the floor,
took two steps, and, without warning, the floor collapsed under the
unaccustomed weight. The thief fell down to the next floor, which happened to
be the dining hall for all the novices. He escaped with his life, but, alas,
without his prize, as the one thing he had not planned on was running with
such a great weight.
Cliff Thayer
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Review: THE COLOUR OF MAGIC
Terry Pratchett is a British author of several SF short stories and a novel
entitled 'Strata', available in a Signet edition. 'The Colour of Magic',
printed in England in 1983, has recently been released in an american
paperback edition by Signet, and has been a main selection of the Science
Fiction Book Club.
The book recounts the adventures shared by "Twoflower, a naive insurance
salesman turned tourist" and his reluctant native guide, an inept wizard named
Rincewind. The first of four short stories in the book tell of Twoflower's
arrival in the corrupt city of Ankh-Morpork. After meeting Rincewind,
Twoflower's adventures in the city, reminiscent of Aspirin's Sanctuary,
culminate in the destruction of the city. The second book describes their
awakening of an ancient horror in an abandoned temple. The third is an
account of how Twoflower finally gets his wish to see a dragon, and the final
story sends the two reluctant adventurers over the edge of the Discworld into
space.
Pratchett's style is very readable, and spotted with just the right touch
of humor. At times 'The Colour of Magic' reminds one of Anthony's Xanth or
Adams' Hitchhiker series, yet it always retains a new and unique frame of
fantasy. An excellent book for those who are intrigued by the unusual, and
the interaction of modern ideas and medieval technology. This book is
thoroughly enjoyable light fantasy reading, and quite amusing as well.
Orny <NMCS025 @ MAINE>
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Alas, Babble On.
Here I sit, with page all plain,
With nary an image in my brain.
Not spaceship fast or slaughter gory,
to be embellished into a story.
So contrary to my charitable wish,
I'll have no story in your next ish.
And why is my mind all turned to rock?
I'll tell you. I've got writer's block.
Jim Owens <J1O @ PSUVM>
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Selection
The air was stale, and he felt very little. His plastic environment suit
made a crumpling noise as he turned to face her. "Lisa?"
"Yes, Lloyd?"
"What happened to us? I mean, we can't touch any more..." He left the
sentence hanging, contemplating. Lisa knew what he wanted to say, and she
shamefully looked at the floor a moment before answering.
"I'm sorry, Lloyd. I know. But if we were to remove these suits, you know
what would happen..."
"Yes, the germs in the air would kill us, since our bodies have no natural
defenses. So we have to live all our lives in these shells, in our own self-
contained environment, but why? When did it all start?"
Lisa was a mother, explaining a difficult and harsh reality to a child.
"Well, it all started a long, long time ago, when mankind was first developing
intelligence, and made houses to keep him safe and warm, so that he didn't
have to face the elements. But it really got worse in the last hundred years,
when we concentrated on welfare programs, health care, and started taking care
of the physically or mentally deficient. We cheated natural selection.
Because the weaker members of our society were protected, they survived, and
because they survived, they bred. The weaker genes were not weeded out due to
natural selection, and gradually the entire human species became weaker, until
we became wholly dependant on our man-made artifices to cheat natural
selection."
Lloyd also looked thoughtfully downward. "And then there was the Great
Plague? Is that why we have to wear these suits?"
Lisa's eyes burned with tears. "Yes, love. The Great Plague came upon us
not long ago. A sudden outbreak of disease became a worldwide horror, because
our scientists couldn't find a cure for it fast enough. The disease spread
quickly, and millions upon millions died, because they had no natural defenses
left, and we couldn't even find the cause of the disease. Now we must remain
isolated from the natural environment, or else we will die like they did."
Lloyd mustered the courage to look into Lisa's deep brown eyes. "But it's
unbearable! Is this what mankind has come to?
What can we do about it?"
Lisa broke the contact by averting her eyes. "Nothing, Lloyd, except
live."
Lloyd looked about him, through the clear plastic suit, at the antiseptic
white walls, and the sterile linoleum floor. "If you can call this life."
Orny <NMCS025 @ MAINE>
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