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<title><![CDATA[Maveric L's Blog]]></title>
<link>http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-Mghwshc8erBChDEuasuOux.kaar8Lyce</link>
<description><![CDATA[Fiction.]]></description>
<language>en-us</language>
<lastBuildDate>Wed, 08 Aug 2007 15:24:28 GMT</lastBuildDate>

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<title><![CDATA[Entry for August 08, 2007]]></title>
<link>http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-Mghwshc8erBChDEuasuOux.kaar8Lyce?p=37</link>
<description><![CDATA[c. 2007 Maveric Lion Productions]]></description>
<pubDate>Wed, 08 Aug 2007 15:24:28 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Entry for August 08, 2007]]></title>
<link>http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-Mghwshc8erBChDEuasuOux.kaar8Lyce?p=36</link>
<description><![CDATA[c. 2007 Maveric Lion Productions]]></description>
<pubDate>Wed, 08 Aug 2007 15:23:16 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Entry for August 08, 2007]]></title>
<link>http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-Mghwshc8erBChDEuasuOux.kaar8Lyce?p=35</link>
<description><![CDATA[c 2007 Maveric Lion Productions]]></description>
<pubDate>Wed, 08 Aug 2007 15:20:18 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Entry for June 20, 2007]]></title>
<link>http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-Mghwshc8erBChDEuasuOux.kaar8Lyce?p=30</link>
<description><![CDATA[<p><strong>Button for your Web page</strong>  <p> <table cellspacing="0" style="background-color:#fff; "> <tbody> <tr> <td><img height="26" width="132" alt="Google Groups" src="http://groups.google.com/groups/img/3/groups_bar.gif" /> </td></tr> <tr> <td style="font-size:125%; "><strong>SF&amp;F Writers Forum</strong> </td></tr> <tr> <td style=""><a href="http://groups.google.com/group/sff-writers-forum">Visit this group</a> </td></tr></tbody></table><pre style="font-size:x-small; font-family:Courier; ">  &lt;table style="background-color: #fff; padding: 5px;" cellspacing=0&gt;   &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;     &lt;img src="http://groups.google.com/groups/img/3/groups_bar.gif"          height=26 width=132 alt="Google Groups"&gt;   &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;   &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="padding-left: 5px;font-size: 125%"&gt;     &lt;b&gt;SF&amp;amp;F Writers Forum&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;   &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="padding-left: 5px"&gt;     &lt;a href="http://groups.google.com/group/sff-writers-forum"&gt;Visit this group&lt;/a&gt;   &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/table&gt;   </pre> <p><strong>Subscribe box for your web page</strong>  <p> <table cellspacing="0" border="0" style="background-color:#fff; "> <tbody> <tr> <td><img height="26" width="132" alt="Google Groups" src="http://groups.google.com/groups/img/3/groups_bar.gif" /> </td></tr> <tr> <td style=""><strong>Subscribe to SF&amp;F Writers Forum</strong> </td></tr>  <tr> <td style="">Email:   </td></tr> <tr> <td align="right"><a href="http://groups.google.com/group/sff-writers-forum">Visit this group</a> </td></tr></tbody></table><pre style="font-size:x-small; font-family:Courier; ">  &lt;table border=0 style="background-color: #fff; padding: 5px;" cellspacing=0&gt;   &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;     &lt;img src="http://groups.google.com/groups/img/3/groups_bar.gif"          height=26 width=132 alt="Google Groups"&gt;   &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;   &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="padding-left: 5px"&gt;     &lt;b&gt;Subscribe to SF&amp;amp;F Writers Forum&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;   &lt;form action="http://groups.google.com/group/sff-writers-forum/boxsubscribe"&gt;   &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="padding-left: 5px;"&gt;     Email: &lt;input type=text name=email&gt;            &lt;input type=submit name="sub" value="Subscribe"&gt;   &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/form&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align=right&gt;   &lt;a href="http://groups.google.com/group/sff-writers-forum"&gt;Visit this group&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/table&gt;  </pre></p></p></p></p>]]></description>
<pubDate>Wed, 20 Jun 2007 15:32:01 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Entry for April 03, 2007]]></title>
<link>http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-Mghwshc8erBChDEuasuOux.kaar8Lyce?p=28</link>
<description><![CDATA[<p> </p> <p><strong>New Google Group:</strong></p> <p>http://groups.google.com/group/sff-writers-forum My intention in creating this group is to provide a place for wrtiers of Science Fiction and Fantasy to post their stories and discuss their craft. Members shouild feel free to post their material. -0-0T::Z Google Groups </p>]]></description>
<pubDate>Tue, 03 Apr 2007 16:14:14 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Entry for December 01, 2006]]></title>
<link>http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-Mghwshc8erBChDEuasuOux.kaar8Lyce?p=22</link>
<description><![CDATA[<p style=""><span style="font-family:'Antique Olive Roman'; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></span></p>
<p style=""><span style="font-family:'Antique Olive Roman'; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></span></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman">The First Day on the New World</font></font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">By</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">Carl E. Thompson</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">c. 2006 Maveric Lion Production</font></p>
<p style=""><span style="font-family:ABRACADABRA; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></span></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">My brother and I entered the ICU. The shriveled shape on the bed only looked remotely familiar. But it was Mom, no doubt about it.</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>They had called us this morning to tell us that she was not expected to live. So Joe and I had hurried to Frankford Hospital to say good-bye.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Kathleen L. Thompson, nee Hardiman, had spent eighty-three years on this earth and had been the mother of two sons. She’d worked in a defense plant during World War II. She was the first love of my life. I don’t think that there are many men who cannot say that their mother filled that role—if they are in any way honest. And she gave me an even greater gift. She taught me to read and, without that gift, I would have been unable to commit these works to paper—or its electronic equivalent—now. And, when she was in High School, at Hallehan Catholic High School for Girls, she’d been a fairly good artist. So I’m sure that my brother, Joe, inherited his artistic gifts from there.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Not to mention that she had given us the encouragement to pursue these gifts that he own family had denied her.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I had trouble learning to read and the good sisters at St. Joachim School weren’t going to waste their time teaching me. My father wasn’t rich and he wasn’t catholic so they basically didn’t give a damn. I wasn’t one of the elect who were bound for Heaven anyway. Do I sound bitter?<span style="">&nbsp; </span>No, I realize now that they couldn’t help it. The nuns at that school were mostly the crazy daughters of wealthy catholic families foisted off on a church that was desperate for vocations. I really do believe that that is the source of the Church’s current problems. They wanted to fill habits with warm bodies and not necessarily people of quality. but before you all jump on me for addressing the ugly elephant in the middle of the room let’s get back to the story of my mother and how she filled in for an inept and bigoted educational system that is even now dying as I speak.</font></font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;</span>Mom got Encyclopedias at the Supermarket and every night she would read them to me. Somehow that worked. Before long I learned to read them for myself.</font></font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">My mother opened up that door for me and for that I will always thank her.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">It was also my mother who introduced me to Science Fiction by letting me stay up late on Saturday night to watch <i style="">Chiller Theater</i>. It was here that I first saw such 1950s SF classics as <i style="">The Day the Earth Stood Still</i> and <i style="">Forbidden Planet</i>. Not to mention just about every one of the Universal Movie monsters.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">I always suspected that she just wanted company while watching the scary movies but, just the same, I was hooked on SF. All it took was <i style="">Star Trek</i>, <i style="">Lost in Space</i> and the Robert A. Heinlein juvenile novels at the Free Library to finish the job.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">And it was my mother who took me to the library and helped me get my first library card.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">For that, if not all the other countless Mother things she did for me, she will be missed.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">Joe and I stood by the side of the bed as the life signs monitors bleeped, the signal of my Mom’s life fading with each pulse. Somewhere in the back of my mind I thought about the monitors in Doctor McCoy’s sick bay. I needed to think of anything but what was happening.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">I kissed her temple. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">“Good-bye, Mom,” I whispered. “Your boys are going to be all right. We’re going to make it.”</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">We stood there silent as the waves on the monitor flat lined. She was gone. A big piece of my life went with her.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">The pretty Japanese-American lady doctor pronounced her and the nurse disconnected her from the leads.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">“I’m an orphan too,” said the nurse.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">“No,” I said, “that can’t be right. You don’t call adult men orphans, do you?”</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">“Sure you do,” she said.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">There were papers to sign and then we walked away down what seemed to be the longest hospital hall in the Universe. Two orphans, two grown men, heading out to face the new world.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">A line from an old movie went thought me head. It was one of those SF films my mother had let me stay up late to watch.</font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">It was called <i style="">When World’s Collide</i> and it ended with the survivors of a destroyed earth landing on an alien planet—their new home. </font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman">The end title said: <b style="">And that was the beginning of the first day on the new world.</b></font></font></p>
<p style="text-indent:0.5in; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">I knew just how they felt.</font></p>
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<pubDate>Fri, 01 Dec 2006 16:26:56 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Entry for November 08, 2006]]></title>
<link>http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-Mghwshc8erBChDEuasuOux.kaar8Lyce?p=20</link>
<description><![CDATA[<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><b style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman">Space Family Churchill</font></font></b></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><b style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman">Part 5</font></font></b></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">By</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">Carl E. and Joe G. Thompson</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">c. 2006 Maveric Lion Productions.</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">The heat shielded belly of the saucer shaped pod bit into the atmosphere of the new planet.</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The point of entry was over the large, western ocean of Oceania. So far so good. I had started off my marine career in helicopters and stealth infiltrators before becoming a space marine. I still felt very much at home at the controls of aircraft and spacecraft.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>But not too comfortable. Because getting too comfortable doing anything leads to mistakes and mistakes lead to crashes and crashes…well you can work out the rest.</font></font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">*</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">Once we were past reentry and deep enough into the atmosphere I activated the Negative Matter Drive and leveled off. Our sensors scanned ahead of us picking out the safest route to the proposed landing site, which was on the central continent on a plateau that overlooked the ocean. This was a place where our robot probes had touched down and, therefore, one of the few places we knew with any confidence.</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Almost at once we had a problem. Ahead of us, over the big ocean was a big assed storm. I informed Dave of that.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“We should have expected that,” he said. “One, big continent means lots of oceans for storms to build up on and very little land mass for them to waste their energy on. They have plenty of time and plenty of energy to grown really big. That’s going to be a problem living on this planet.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Yeah, that if I can set us down safely and not kill us by splattering us all over the surface.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I had to keep the pod above the storm and look for an opening where we could set down. That was going to be a problem. We had only so much fuel and when it ran low we’d have to land, one way or another. Furthermore, if we were on the surface with dry tanks then someone would have to land and bring us more—or we were staying, like it or not.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Already I was getting buffeted by high winds. It was going to be hard to keep altitude if this got much rougher.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>And it did.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The pod took a sudden dip down into the clouds and we were struck by lightning. The power systems were shielded but they still went down and took a second to reboot.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Now we were in the storm and being tossed about. This was not going well.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Contrary to popular opinion, lightning does strike twice when you are flying a charged spacecraft through a storm. It struck us six more times and that was enough to cause loss of several key systems. While they regretted and rebooted we plunged down into the clouds. I struggled with the controls trying to keep us upright while Doctor Dave struggled with his stomach contents, trying to keep them down. I did not envy him his humanity at that moment. I might well survive a crash at sea and be able to walk out across the oceans floor. He would not do as well.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>As this thought was crossing my mind the power cut out and the pod began to drop. <i style="">Oh, shit!</i></font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>If the systems were not fried the nanites would repair them and the computer would boo them up again. If not. Well, maybe I could find Dave some sort of floatation device. Because were still far out at sea.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I didn’t bother to tell Dave we were crashing. He’d find that out soon enough. I figured that the best use of my time was to see if I couldn’t repair the ship and get her operating again.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Deep inside the storm I managed to get some control back. I cold keep her level and flying—perhaps long enough to reach dry land and set her down. But the winds were giving us a hell of a buffeting and I didn’t know how long I could retain fairly level flight on manual.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The altitude continued to drop as the NMD was no longer on line. We were gliding, as well as our flat saucer shape would allow us to glide. Maybe, with enough speed and if we didn’t get bucked around too much we’d make it to the shore—to dry land. I crossed my mental fingers and prayed to whatever god might be listening.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>We managed to say airborne for another twenty minutes. We also managed to lose enough speed so that when we plowed into the beach we were not killed.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">END OF PART 5.</font></p>
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<pubDate>Wed, 08 Nov 2006 19:28:40 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Entry for October 18, 2006]]></title>
<link>http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-Mghwshc8erBChDEuasuOux.kaar8Lyce?p=18</link>
<description><![CDATA[<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><b style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman">Space Family Churchill</font></font></b></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><b style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman">Part 4</font></font></b></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">By</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">Carl E. and Joe G. Thompson</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">c. 2006 Maveric Lion Productions.</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">We loaded up the Excursion Pod early in the morning. I was to fly the first landing. Going along with me would be a platoon of bots and David Churchill. He was to be the first human being to set foot on Oceania.</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Dave—as I now felt free to call him—was very excited. Like a kid who’s been given the keys a gaming factory. I was not. I knew that this was a dangerous operation and that getting excited before a dangerous operation can get one killed. Hell, you can get killed even if you don’t get existed but being so only increases the odd. Surviving is all about reducing the odds of certain death.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The whole family came down to the pod bay to say goodbye. I had to admit that I was a little jealous. It had been a long time since I had any living family to see me off on a mission. A long, long time.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Watching them gave me fresh and somehow different insights into this family of pioneers that I had not gotten on the first meeting.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>My opinion of Dave and Su had not changed but to a degree my opinion of the two older kids had.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Rachel Li seemed concerned about her father and hugged him tightly at the embarkation lock. Frank stood off respectfully but there did seem to be admiration for the old man in his brown eyes.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Junior was the only exception. He seemed to be more interested in me. He even walked me from the ready room to the embarkation lock.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“So,” I asked him. “You excited about the landing?”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>He shrugged. “I guess you’re skilled enough to handle it.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“No one is ever too skilled when it comes to landing on a new world, kid,” I said.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“But you’re a machine. You’re programmed to land the ship safely.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I didn’t want to explain that I’m not exactly a machine. That inside this shell I am a human being, and that even the best of machines sometimes, and often do, fail. But I had another concern.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“What about your Dad? Worried about him. Frail human that he is.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Junior shrugged that annoying shrug again. “He’ll be okay.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Apparently the relationship of Junior and his namesake was not as good as it should have been. That was too bad.</font></font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">*</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">I entered the ship and climbed up to the cockpit, where I strapped my metallic/ceramic bulk in—not so much to protect me from harm during a rough flight, as to protect the interior of the ship. I’m built pretty sturdy.</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Dave was strapped in down below, his wife and his elder son helping him to secure himself.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>While this was going on a plugged into the system using the fiber optic leads that allowed me to thought control the ship as if it were my own body.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“How are you feeling, Doc?”<span style="">&nbsp; </span>I asked my passenger.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“Nervous and anxious as hell.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“Then I reckon you’re ready to go.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“Past ready, Gunny.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“Then let us ride. This is Planetary Excursion Pod 007 to Bridge. We are ready to launch.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“Very well, Colonel, “said the Captain. “Launch.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The pod dropped away from the ship and headed for the planet.</font></font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">*</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">END OF PART 4.</font></p>
]]></description>
<pubDate>Wed, 18 Oct 2006 15:53:46 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Entry for September 28, 2006]]></title>
<link>http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-Mghwshc8erBChDEuasuOux.kaar8Lyce?p=13</link>
<description><![CDATA[<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><b style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman">Space Family Churchill</font></font></b></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><b style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman">Part 3</font></font></b></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">By</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">Carl E. and Joe G. Thompson</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">c. 2006 Maveric Lion Productions.</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">The Skipper moved <i style="">Conestoga</i> into a low, circular orbit of Oceania.</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Once in the low orbit we began to launch probes.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I had to admit that Oceania was an apt name for the place. Eighty percent of the new world’s surface was ocean—five percent more than Earth.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>We were soon sure that the atmosphere contained oxygen and nitrogen and the green was chlorophyll. Which meant algae and plant life—just like home.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>It was the first time anyone had seen living life off Earth. Until then the fossils of Mars were the only evidence we had that Earth was not the only planet that had ever sustained living organisms. </font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Now all we had to do was give the bio-monitor systems on the probes time to evaluate these life forms with respect to our own.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Would the Churchills be able to walk around in open garments or would this be another hard suit environment?</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>It too a week.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">END OF PART 3.</font></p>
]]></description>
<pubDate>Thu, 28 Sep 2006 14:52:47 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Entry for September 13, 2006]]></title>
<link>http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-Mghwshc8erBChDEuasuOux.kaar8Lyce?p=11</link>
<description><![CDATA[<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><b style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman">Space Family Churchill</font></font></b></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><b style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman">Part 2</font></font></b></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">By</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">Carl E. and Joe G. Thompson</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">c. 2006 Maveric Lion Productions.</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">&nbsp;</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">The dining hall was on the middle deck of the torus that spun to provide gravity for the humans. Along one side were high definition vid windows that showed a panoramic view of the planet and stars. The view one would have seen had the <i style="">Conestoga</i> not been clad in radiation armor.</font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>This hall had never been used before, though the mechanoid crew often held celebrations in its hyper-reality simulation. Holidays, birthdays, upload days—whatever. Inside our mechanoid shells we still maintained our core humanity.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The officers gathered around the table with the Churchill family. The cook, who was also the chief medical officer, had prepared her first meal of the voyage. Though we mechs require nourishment we do not eat as live humans do. We receive inductions of nutrient for our organic parts.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Nonetheless each mech had a plate in front of him/her with a name card. But the plat would remain empty.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>A robot warden served the humans their fare. It was a non-humanoid machine.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Skipper’s hologram sat at the head of the table. The rest of us were arranged in a boy-girl formation with the humans, as far as we could stretch it. Five humans and forty mechs—you do the math.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>At first it appeared as if the dinner would be a silent one. It’s hard to get humans to converse with mechs. We’re not the sci-fi robots that their culture has brainwashed them to expect. We’re a little too human—which increases the discomfort.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The captain, of course, broke the ice.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“Doctor Churchill, what do you think of the Tau Ceti System so far?”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>David Churchill smiled for the first time since coming aboard.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“Well, I haven’t actually seen much of it,” he grinned.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“So I gather it doesn’t feel like home yet,” I said.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Churchill looked nervously at his kids. All of them, save for Junior, seemed pained.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“No not yet, Colonel. Not until I get to walk around on the floors and kick off my shoes—so to speak.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“And what do you gave to say about that, Mrs. Churchill?” asked the Skipper.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“Well, first I have to examine the floors and see that he won’t be picking up any nasty fungi,” she joked. “And, please, call me Sue.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“Very well, Sue it is.”</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>After that the ice was broken.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>We learned a lot about the Churchill family that was not in their official biographies.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>David Churchill had begun his official career with the intention of being on this mission. He had been ten years old when <i style="">Conestoga</i> boosted out of El-Five. He’d watched the launch on Global Video and made up his mind right then and there. If there were to be no human astronauts then he would become a scientist, a planetologist and volunteer for the mission.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>If he had any resentment for mechs it was only in that they got to go first into the great beyond. But, as a man of science, he understood why that was necessary. The journey to the stars would take decades and no human could endure that, even in suspended animation. This way was the best way.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>His wife, as good waives tend to be, was more pragmatic. She was here because her husband wanted to be here and she had come to share his dream. Besides, this was a great opportunity for a biologist. No life had been yet found off Earth. And in addition to that the colony would need a physician. Su-lin Kim had graduated from medical school before going on to get her PH.D in biology, if there was no life on Tau Ceti’s planets a colony would still be established and she would found that colony’s first medical center.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>This brought us around to the kids.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I’d had kids in my past life, all grown and gone now. So I understand that kids never share their parents’ dreams. At least not in any form the parents might recognize.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Rachel Li was a Hollywood brat with digital paint in her blood and—guess what—Tau Ceti was decades away from needing, wanting or having an entertainment industry. At least not a professional one. She also fancied herself a trophy—as many young women still, unfortunately, do. Guess again. There’d be no eligible bachelors—especially not the kind of shallow gasheads she was into—for many years. She’d have to reach down into her promising genome and bring more to the table than looks.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I reckoned she’d head back to Earth in three months.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I gave Frank even less time.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>He answered questions in short grunts, when he wasn’t listening to pop music on his ear bud or snaking peeks at the Caption’s bosoms. He was girl crazy and there weren’t too many girls around here. Not real ones anyway. That was understandable. But it didn’t make his lack of attention any less annoying.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Every teenage boy fancies himself a rebel when in actuality all teenage boys are followers. Not a Thomas Paine or a Che Guevara amongst them. They think that being fashion victims and label junkies makes one a rebel. It doesn’t.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Frank would probably be sent back to the Homeworld in a third the time it would take his sister. They might even leave on the same pod.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Which brought us to Junior.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>He was bright and attentive. Why not, he was smart. He asked questions and observed things. He’d adapt well to the new environment. Probably because his status as a child prodigy had always made him the odd man out back home. He’d never fit into the peer groups and so he would not miss them.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3"><font face="Times New Roman"><span style="">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The dinner ended and we all took our leave. The crew to their duties and the Churchills to their night’s sleep and preparations for the next day.</font></font></p>
<p style=""><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">END OF PART 2</font></p>
<p align="center" style="text-align:center; "><font size="3" face="Times New Roman">*</font></p>
]]></description>
<pubDate>Wed, 13 Sep 2006 15:03:12 GMT</pubDate>
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