November 24, 2010
The Fire Ants of Terrorism

An interesting article I found at CNN:

Is America on the path to ‘permanent war’?

The fight against terrorism will fail if we continue to frame it as a “war”. I’m not against war; I am against the futile waste of people and resources on an unwinnable situation. We honor our service men and women by NOT throwing away their lives in a “war” that has no victory condition.

Wiping out terrorism is like fighting fire ants (a Florida pass time) — I kill them in my yard and they pop up at my neighbors. If my neighbor gets rid of them, the ants will move to an abandoned lot, or public land, or inside my frelling car’s engine.

Wage “war” all you want, but the ants aren’t going away, no matter how much poison anyone applies. Biological warfare almost always fails, too — it kills non-target species, or the ants evolve an immunity. In a similar way, the “War Against Terrorism” creates more problems than it solves.

Terrorists are fire ants and africanized bees. They hurt us, sometimes kill us, and often surprise us. They can’t be beaten by a frontal assault with tanks or bombs or drones or armies. We kill a nest here and a hive there, but the threat continues, morphs, and moves.

Are we in this to succeed, or are we just engaged in expensive and ineffective theater?

We need to be smarter.

November 17, 2010
Busy-ness

When I’m not active on my blog or Twitter, that means I’m working.

Which is good. :)

I’m in the midst of a time-critical project for one of my clients, plus I’m trying to wrap up Revelations of Darkened Souls by the end of the year.

However, I do have some subjects to post on the blog, once I get my head above water. I’ll see if I can find time later this week to make a posting or two…

October 30, 2010
A Musing on the Nature of Music

Information without substance exists; 2 + 2 = 4, even if there is no sentient being to add the numbers. Thus, we discover math, rather than invent it; our only creation is the notation, not the actual concept. Is the same true for other aspects of the universe, such as music? Does a song exist before it is composed, and where does it reside if it is not written down or played?

October 23, 2010
The Potential Redemption of Villains…

From the forthcoming Revelations of Darkened Souls

Lightning struck the ground, crackle-walking between trees, briefly illuminating a hunched, hooded shape on a nearby path. The path was steep, and the person moved slowly but steadily through the torrential downpour, approaching the unlit castle. Once inside the barbican, the figure stopped, leaning its back against the wall under an overhang, breathing heavily, a hand gently caressing its rounded abdomen. She looked back at the valley below, and wondered where her pursuers were. She hadn’t seen them, but she knew they were there. He would never let her escape…

“Who is it?” came a deep, melodic voice. “Show yourself!”

The figure moved into the courtyard. The rolling clouds above thundered and flashed; For an instant, she saw water cascading over blue scales, great white wings stretched up, a head with long teeth and silver horns.

“My name is Danelle,” the figure said, pulling back its hood. She bowed, letting her long, wet blond tresses fall over her face. She brushed them aside. “I beg your indulgence.”

“My mother has told me about you,” said Hassakkor with disgust. “You are not one of our friends.”

“That may be so,” Danelle said. “I’ve made… mistakes.” She paused, wincing. “It’s very important that I go to Caerelon. I must speak to Kaylen Thyr.”

“No,” said the dragon. “I am tasked with protecting this place.”

“I’m familiar with your mother’s teachings,” the woman stated. “I believe mercy was among them.” Exhausted, she dropped to her knees in the mud. “I am in great danger. Please.”

Hassakkor looked at her carefully, considering.

“You are with child,” he said.

“Yes,” she whispered. Even above the roar of the storm, Hassakkor heard her.

He reached one of his great paws toward her…

October 20, 2010
What we don’t back up…

For the last couple of weeks, I haven’t been able to post on this blog because I lost my log in information…

My main computer recently lost a hard drive controller. I’m pretty studious about keeping track of things. For example, I have a vast spreadsheet containing license keys, passwords, and other critical data (very encryted, thank you). But it didn’t have my magic words for Tumblr.

And it’s been rather busy, what with new work for my partner in Finland, writign my books, and general chaos.

New excerpts from the books are coming shortly.

11:15am  |   URL: http://tumblr.com/ZBvwDy1H0pfg
Filed under: update writing work 
September 26, 2010
On Kehklik: A Dragon’s Perspective

From A Journey of Dragons, here is the dragon Sytherek’s consideration of the kehklik, a unique species in the lands of Syraqua…

Sytherek lay atop a mesa, head held high, motionless except for his searching eyes. His perch offered an exceptional view of two neighboring kehklik hives, one young, one old. Recent events had rekindled his interest in the creatures. He observed, contemplated, and formed hypotheses; later would come elegant experiments, in which humans might play an involuntary role. His goal, befitting his species, was nothing less than liberating the hidden potential of the kehklik. Brother Symurall could play with the silly humans who’d washed up on the beach; Sytherek’s grand plans involved the evolution of something new.

The hives lay at the edge of kehklik territory; they were entirely separate, each with its own queen and distinct population. The older hive was the healthier and larger of the two. A lone proto-queen had established the younger hive, only twenty years earlier, without apparent assistance, extending her species’ domain. Across thousands of square leagues, hundreds of hives lay scattered. The distance between colonies was almost a constant: an hour, as measured by the relaxed flight of a dragon. It was as if no kehklik would travel more than a dozen leagues from its queen. When circumstances forced a kehklik outside its home territory, the likely result was confusion or even insanity. Behavior was universal; any kehklik colony could replace another, and the change would hardly be noticeable.

That is, except for a remarkable exception: The hive at Jozin’s Peak.

Sytherek once again rebuked himself for failing to monitor the kehklik hives along the coast. He’d never had faith in Symurall’s plan to isolate the humans of Tramora; however, rather than oppose his brother, Sytherek had implemented a private backup plan. Taking proto-queens and placing them along Syraqua’s northern shores, he’d created a defense against human incursion. As many years passed, his attention was drawn away by other concerns, and the hives had been left to their own devices. Only one guardian hive survived, near Jozin’s Peak. In a strange turn of fate, that lone colony had grown to unusual magnificence in isolation; it had even attempted to fulfill its intended destiny, thwarted only by Symurall’s intercession on behalf of Kaylen’s people. Yet in their defeat, the kehklik had demonstrated unexpected, original, strategic thought – proof that a key existed to unlock the sentience of the kehklik. Sytherek treasured that discovery, grudgingly admitting gratitude – rather than annoyance – for his brother’s actions. He would find a way to recreate that key, and apply it to other hives.

Other mysteries lacked answers as well. The finale of The Reckoning, the unprecedented and unique kehklik assault on humanity – that, too, required an explanation, in case he had need of such power…

Read more at A Journey of Dragons.

September 17, 2010
Of Love, Bathrooms, and Laser Pistols

I’ve been very busy recently, with programming and life and writing and… well, stuff. This passage is from the the third act of Revelations of Darkened Souls, the forthcoming sequel to A Journey of Dragons. I’ll be posting more int he coming weeks… as always, this is preliminary text, from before major editorial passes and final polishing. :)

Norgrim is the leader of the Loreseeker dwarves, a sect devoted to the acquisition of knowledge; Kalinda is his daughter. Alanora is the leader of Caerelon, the only remaining major human city in the world, and Zarah is a young woman who’s their friend. And now for the story segment…

“Where is Gyre?” Alanora asked.

“Fifty leagues northwest,” Kalinda told her. “They’ll take Zarah there by underground steamrail, but the terminus on this end is under the Theorist compound. There has to be some other way to get there quickly.”

“Are you insane?” Norgrim yelled. Alanora shot the dwarf a look he’d only seen once before, and his blood froze.

“Norgrim, take the viricide to Caerelon,” Alanora ordered. Norgrim started to object; her eyes told him it would be unwise. “Make it look like I’ve gone with you.”

“No!” Norgrim burst forth. “We’re lucky to have gotten out of this as well as we have. Zarah accepted the sacrifice.”

“Then she made a bad choice,” said Alanora. “There is no Caerelon if we abandon our principles. I will not leave Zarah behind to be picked apart and murdered.”

“Where do you keep your toys, father?” Kalinda asked.

“What toys…”

“Where?” she demanded.

“What are you talking about?” Alanora asked.

“My father collects interesting things,” Kalinda replied. “Odd devices, forgotten technology, whatever comes his way in dusty old ruins and hidden vaults. He must have some of it here, in case of emergency. Hidden.”

“I don’t even know how most of it works!” her father insisted.

“We’re bright girls,” said Kalinda. “We’ll take what we can figure out.”

“You’re not going!” Norgrim said, realizing what her “we” implied.

“Yes I am.”

“No you’re not!” Norgrim declared. “I like Zarah, but to throw your life away –”

“It’s my life and my choice,” Kalinda said, firmly and calmly. “Zarah is more than my friend. I love her, father.

Norgrim looked very confused for a moment.

“That’s part of what upset those Theorists, isn’t it?” Alanora asked. “Under the drugs, she told them how she feels about you, didn’t she?”

“Maybe. Probably,” said Kalinda. “The two of us keep dancing around our feelings, not quite sure what to do. It didn’t happen overnight, and it certainly wasn’t planned. It just happened. And I’ll be damned if those zekts are going to take her away from me.”

“It makes no sense!” exclaimed Norgrim. “You’re both –”

“Yes, we’re both women. I’ve noticed. And we aren’t even the same species. But we make each other happy… as Tohkay once said, does anything else really matter?”

“You discussed this with Tohkay?” His eyes went wide.

“He’s a wise little lizard. I think he’s been talking to both of us, and I should have listened to him sooner. If she dies before I can… well, that’s not going to happen.”

Norgrim shook his head. “You aren’t serious about this.”

“More serious than you imagine,” said Kalinda. “You’d fight a pack of dragons for mother. Alanora risked her life to rescue Kaylen. Don’t deny me the right to protect the person I love. Now – where are your toys?”

Norgrim was silent.

Alanora kicked him.

“Fine, fine,” Norgrim growled. “This way.”

He lead them through the house, to the bathroom.

“You keep toys in the toilet?” Alanora asked.

“Would you look here for a cache of deadly antiques?” Norgrim asked. “What did you expect me to have? A secret door behind a bookshelf?”

“Actually, yes.”

He mumbled under his breath about people who lacked imagination. Taking the top off the toilet’s cistern, he reaching inside; two loud clicks later, the bathtub slid sideways into a compartment in the wall, revealing a stairway down.

They descended quickly. Light came on automatically, revealing a large room, lined with shelves, cabinets, and crates. Devices strange, wondrous, and incomprehensible surrounded them.

“Most of these are dwarven make,” Norgrim said.  “A few come from human ruins or Roqat. I’ve never had time to study them all.” He walked to one set of shelves, and picked up a folded piece of shimmering cloth. With a quick motion, he wrapped it around himself – and disappeared.

“An invisibility cloak?” Alanora asked. “What is this, your collection of clichés?”

His head appeared, disembodied, smiling. “It’s not perfect,” he said. “People will see distortions from certain angles, or when you’re moving.”

Kalinda’s attention was drawn to a complex device. The central component was a long, wide cylinder made from orange-red metal, its surface inscribed with dull blue runes.

“This has a power port,” she said. “Do you have a charged anpheric crystal at two thousand peranils?”

“Careful!” he father exclaimed, tossing the cloak aside and moving quickly to her side. “That thing’s dangerous.”

“Only if I aim it the wrong way,” she said. She pointed to the blue symbols. “This is an ancient form of Dwarven – here’s Istona’s signature mark. She built this! You found this in Roqat, didn’t you?” For the first time in hours, she smiled, but it was a dark smirk Norgrim had never seen on his daughter’s face. “This says something about quantum displacement,” she continued. “That’s one of the principles underlying the harmonic gateways – what’s that whining noise?”

Instinctively, she and Norgrim dropped to the floor. A burst of intense purple light filled the room, accompanied by crackling sounds and acrid odors. They looked to see Alanora rubbing her eyes amid settling dust, holding an object with pulsing red and blue crystals on top.

“That was fun,” Alanora said. “I made your storage room bigger.” In the wall across from her, a smoking hole extended into darkness.

“Gah!” Norgrim said. “What did you do?”

“This looked interesting,” she said, examining the weapon closely. “It had two color-coded sockets, so I plugged in a pair of these glowing crystals from this cabinet. I didn’t know what this button did, so I pushed it. It seems to be working.”

“Be careful!” Norgrim said. “You can’t rescue anyone as a corpse!”

“Why in hell do you hide all this stuff?” she asked. “Why are you afraid of anything? Just this one weapon could –”

“I could conquer all of Syraqua in a day,” Norgrim said. “And so could anyone else who got their hands on my collection. I’ve spent decades keeping Theorist hands off tools like these.” He pointed to a table against one wall. “Those were made by your species, Alanora. You might want to see if any of them make sense to you. Just don’t blow us all up, please. I want to live long enough to see if we survive.”

(more to come)

September 1, 2010
 
Revelations of Darkened Souls is the sequel to A Journey of Dragons. What follows is the opening scene…
Lightning struck the ground, crackle-walking between trees, briefly illuminating a hunched, hooded figure on a nearby path. The path was steep, and the person moved slowly but steadily through the torrential downpour, approaching the unlit castle. Once inside the barbican, the figure stopped, leaning against the wall under an overhang, breathing heavily, a hand gently caressing its rounded abdomen. She looked back at the valley below, and wondered where her pursuers were. She had not seen them, but she knew they were there. He would never let her escape…
“Who is it?” came a deep, melodic voice. “Show yourself!”
The figure moved into the courtyard. The rolling clouds above thundered and flashed; For an instant, she saw water cascading over blue scales, great white wings stretched up, a head with long teeth and silver horns.
“My name is Danelle,” the figure said, pulling back its hood. She bowed, letting her long, wet blond tresses fall over her face. She brushed them aside. “I beg your indulgence.”
“My mother has told me about you,” said Hassakkor with disgust. “You are not one of our friends.”
“That may be so,” Danelle said. “I’ve made… mistakes.” She paused, wincing. “It’s very important that I go to Caerelon. I must speak to Kaylen Thyr.”
“No,” said the dragon. “I am tasked with protecting this place.”
“I am familiar with your mother’s teachings,” the woman stated. “I believe mercy was among them.” Exhausted, she dropped to her knees in the mud. “I am in great danger. Please.”
Hassakkor looked at her carefully, considering.
“You are with child,” he said.
“Yes,” she whispered. Even above the roar of the storm, Hassakkor heard her.
He reached one of his great paws toward her…

Revelations of Darkened Souls is the sequel to A Journey of Dragons. What follows is the opening scene…

Lightning struck the ground, crackle-walking between trees, briefly illuminating a hunched, hooded figure on a nearby path. The path was steep, and the person moved slowly but steadily through the torrential downpour, approaching the unlit castle. Once inside the barbican, the figure stopped, leaning against the wall under an overhang, breathing heavily, a hand gently caressing its rounded abdomen. She looked back at the valley below, and wondered where her pursuers were. She had not seen them, but she knew they were there. He would never let her escape…

“Who is it?” came a deep, melodic voice. “Show yourself!”

The figure moved into the courtyard. The rolling clouds above thundered and flashed; For an instant, she saw water cascading over blue scales, great white wings stretched up, a head with long teeth and silver horns.

“My name is Danelle,” the figure said, pulling back its hood. She bowed, letting her long, wet blond tresses fall over her face. She brushed them aside. “I beg your indulgence.”

“My mother has told me about you,” said Hassakkor with disgust. “You are not one of our friends.”

“That may be so,” Danelle said. “I’ve made… mistakes.” She paused, wincing. “It’s very important that I go to Caerelon. I must speak to Kaylen Thyr.”

“No,” said the dragon. “I am tasked with protecting this place.”

“I am familiar with your mother’s teachings,” the woman stated. “I believe mercy was among them.” Exhausted, she dropped to her knees in the mud. “I am in great danger. Please.”

Hassakkor looked at her carefully, considering.

“You are with child,” he said.

“Yes,” she whispered. Even above the roar of the storm, Hassakkor heard her.

He reached one of his great paws toward her…

August 19, 2010
Mean Atheists (of the big-A variety)

I am an atheist, in that I do not believe in the existence of supernatural “gods”. While I deny the existence of Gods in the traditional sense, I have reasons to accept the existence of higher purposes and spirituality. If people must apply a label to me, I am a Theravada Buddhist (for the most part).

I am NOT an Atheist (note the capital “A”), a subset of atheism associated with a dogmatic adherence to the writings of Christopher Hitchens & Richard Dawkins. I find big-A Atheism distasteful for many of the same reasons I reject religions like Christianity — in particular, these groups have a nasty bias against anyone who asks questions (no matter how polite.)

When anyone criticizes or questions the motives or actions of big-A Atheism, one of its defenders inevitably brings up this XKCD cartoon:

http://xkcd.com/774/

The cartoon is an ad hominen attack on Atheism’s critics… which seems a tad ironic, considering how often Atheists complain about the use of ad hominem tactics by their “opponents.” They’ll even attack one of their own “superstars” when that person steps out of line, if only for even a moment.

A recent example: Phil Plait gave a talk asking big-A Atheists to be nicer and more polite.

Plait, Part 1 (with video)
Plait, Part 2 (with links to pro and con reponses)

Critics of Plait’s talk ask for examples of “Atheists being dicks”, a request easy to answer. For example, this morning’s news contained the following article:

Federal appeals court says highways’ crosses are unconstitutional.

Posting ad hominem attack comics as a response to criticism seems a tad… well, childish at best.

Religion looks for evidence to back up preconceived answers; science looks for the answers that arise from questions. If you can’t accept reasonable questions or make measured criticisms, you aren’t being rational or scientific.

I fully and completely support anyone’s right to believe whatever they want, so long as they give the same freedom to others. It’s a version of the golden rule… and yes, it is possible to find good advice and philosophy in religious texts. :)

If the government required me to put a cross on my own gravestone, I’d object. If the government prevented people from making memorials with other religious or philosophical symbols, I’d object. When religion says my children must be taught creationism, I object. If the law stated that I must send my kids to church, I’d object.

But I don’t care if someone wants to personally believe in Odin or take Genesis literally. My beliefs are not threated by crosses and minarets and idols, as long as I am not required to venerate such symbols. I don’t see anyone imposing Christianity on me with a roadside memorial.

When Atheists make small-minded attacks on religions and critics, they hurt the cause of rationalism by creating a purely emotional conflict. Such tactics are counterproductive, and should be rejected by truly scientific minds.

Phil Plait made an excellent and valuable point in his talk: Atheism needs to be nice. Doing so is only rational.

August 11, 2010
An Excerpt from the New Novel…

Revelations of Darkened Souls is the sequel to A Journey of Dragons. What follows is a scene that is inspiring quite a bit of artwork, including the cover for the new book.

A bit of background: Three women — the humans Alanora and Zarah, and their dwarven friend, Kalinda — have escaped from a research facility operated by the Theorists, an autocratic group of dwarves who use steampunk-like technologies. To escape, the women commandeered an experimental steam-powered aircraft; they are now being pursued by their enemies…

Alanora fired another short burst. With a satisfied grin, she watched another Theorist flyer spin toward the rectangular fields below. “I think I’m getting the hang of this!” she yelled to her companions.

Hot metal clanged; sparks exploded; the weapon shattered; steam whistled and spewed. Alanora screamed, falling to the floor of the aircraft, leaning against its side, rocking, holding her left hand by the wrist. The flesh was bright red with white streaks of hanging skin. She barely noticed when Zarah crawled through the fuselage to her side.

Another series of impacts shook the aircraft. In the front cockpit, Kalinda brought the plane into a slow turn, the engines trailing steam and other fluids. The craft bucked, shuddered, and swayed. The stick jerked from the dwarf’s hand, and the nose pointed straight downward, toward the trees, spinning wildly. Zarah embraced Alanora, burying her face in the other woman’s shoulder. Kalinda yelled something neither of them could hear. Alanora waited for the impact, wondering what it would feel like.

The hairs on her arm prickled and began to dance.

The shudders and vibrations changed in subtle ways; the forces pressing the women into the side of the fuselage abated. Alanora’s stomach complained less, and she noticed her wounded hand more. Looking through the cockpit hole above, she saw the clouds slowly stop spinning. Then trees came into view; a series of impacts and bumps shook them. There was silence, and stillness.

A blue dragon’s head appeared. Kyazura’s enormous eyes glowed, and so did Alanora’s injured hand. The pain faded, not completely, but enough so that it was no longer overwhelming.

The aircraft moved again, but only slightly. Beneath the dragon’s head, Kalinda’s face appeared. Dark blood ran down her cheek from a nasty cut across her scalp.

“I didn’t know you were hurt!” said the dwarf anxiously.

“I’m not dead,” Alanora replied. “Where are the Theorist aircraft?” She struggled to her feet with the aid of Zarah, surprised at how strong the slight girl was — and embarrassed at how much she needed the help.

Alanora wondered if anyone had ever witnessed a battle such as the one unfolding overhead. A dozen brightly-colored machines trailed white steam, dancing with blue dragons against twilight clouds and sky; the setting sun flashed against scales, metal, and glass. She’d never seen so many dragons in one place at one time, all performing extraordinary acrobatics amid their mechanical enemies — impossible turns, rapid spins, dramatic dives, and rolling loops, far above the ground in a mad dance of war. A large dragon launched a blast of blue plasma into a dwarven aircraft, sending it crashing to the mountainside, a cloud of smoke and debris marking the grave of his foe. The devastating beauty of it all fascinated her, and she forgot her seared hand.

One of the mid-sized dragons was caught between two aircraft, bellowing in pain as it was bombarded by their projectiles. The great reptile wavered, almost falling; two of its comrades arrived, destroying the enemies with deadly efficiency. Then they began escorting their wounded relative away from the fight.

“I must go,” said Kyazura, leaping into the air, joining another elder, one even larger than she: her primary consort, Karfegren. Alanora watched, remembering the joyous reunion flight of Symurall with his mate Kahshiki; theirs had been a passionate embrace of long-separated lovers. What she saw now was something entirely different; Kyazura and Karfegren soared in artful violence, coming together, rolling as one into a pirouette, the air around them glowing, spikes of red flame fanning out from their energetic cloud. Moments later, the mountain was decorated with the smoldering corpses of more machines and their occupants.

Somehow, one Theorist pilots avoided the devastation, firing metal into the great male dragon. Breaking away from Kyazura, the blue-silver Karfegren flipped into a tight turn, slapping the craft with his tail, smashing it to pieces. The dragon grabbed the falling pilot, tearing the dwarf apart in his talons, casting the remains aside in a bloody spray. A roar of victory and anger split the early evening sky.

Alanora glanced at the two women next to her. Neither said anything, their eyes transfixed on the violence above. Moments later, dragons ruled the sky. Kyazura and her mate came to land nearby.

“One of them is escaping!” Zarah shouted, pointing to an aircraft limping away in the distance.

“Yes,” said Karfegren. “I want them to know we are coming.” He nodded toward the women in salute. “I do not believe we have met. I am Karfegren, father of Arrokka.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Zarah said.

“As are we all,” Karfegren replied. His silver eyes flash, sending shivers down Zarah’s spine. “I will ensure that our enemies will regret the murder of my daughter.” He looked at his mate. “Are these are the small ones you spoke of?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Kyazura. “They are as one of our own.”

“Then take them to safety,” Karfegren said. “When our revenge is complete, I will come to see you at this Caerelon you have spoken of. If it is peopled by ones such as these, it must indeed be a great city.” Regarding the women again, he asked, “Are any of your friends still in the research center?”

“No,” said Kalinda. She choked for a moment. “My brother Argrin… he died helping us escape.”

“I shall exact a price for both our losses,” stated Karfegren. For a moment, he studied the dwarven woman. “You are the daughter of Norgrim and Dorna, are you not?”

“I am,” Kalinda said proudly.

“You remind me of them,” Karfegren said. “When this over, I shall write a ballad in honor of you and your companions.” He suddenly launched into the air, joining the dragons already there, leading his flight westward.

Copyright 2010 Scott Robert Ladd. All Rights Reserved.

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