Subject: File: "FSFNET VOL01N5" being sent to you

From: Revised List Processor (1.5m) <[email-masked]>
Date: Fri, 18 Mar 1988 08:45 CST

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            +-+--+-+--+-+     VOLUME ONE                    NUMBER FIVE
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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 10                 Mari A. Paulson
            Featured Author: JAMES KAHN          Orny
            Backing                              Jim Owens
            FSFnet Survey                        For you to send to me...

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                                  Editorial
   Well,  here at  last is issue 5  of FSFnet.   As the  summer approaches,  a
number of userids  will be changing,  and  many numbers which are  sent FSFnet
will be eliminated.   I would ask people who will not be around to remember to
cancel their subscription by sending me a  mail file or message.   FSFnet will
continue to be printed  throughout the summer,  and I would  like those people
who will  be staying throughout  the summer to spread  the word to  others who
might be interested in the zine,  as  many of our subscribers and contributors
will be leaving for summer break.
   Both subscriptions and submissions have slowed to a trickle.  I must remind
you that  FSFnet is  more your venture  than mine,  and  that it  must receive
submissions to continue to work.   Please spread the word and encourage others
to join the membership list,  and try  to get something written.   I know that
many of you are writers of quality...
   The CSNEWS server at MAINE now supports a bulletin board service which many
users might be interested in investigating.  For general information on CSNEWS
send it a message HELP.   For info  on the bulletin board service,  say SENDME
CSBB HELPNET.   Files  you might wish to  request can be requested  by sending
SENDME  COMICS  CSNOTICE,   SENDME STARTREK  CSNOTICE,   and/or  SENDME  SCIFI
CSNOTICE.   Maine users, of course, can get these files by sharing CSNEWS' 192
disk.
   Well, enjoy, and spread the word.  And remember, contributions are needed!
                           Orny  <NMCS025 @ MAINE>

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                            The Narret Chronicles
                                Book The Tenth
   "With all undue disrespect to His Recruitship,   what in the heavens are we
all doing here?"
   "Yes, Yes, what ARE we all doing here?"
   "Rudemen,  rudemen  please,  come  to chaos  will you."   The voice  of the
commander  of  the Narret  System's  Interplanetary  Society boomed  over  the
loudspeakers.   "You've  all been  called here out  of an  emergency situation
which has occured on our counter-planet in the Terran System.  But after I get
to that,  it is  unimportant that you remain ignorant of  the other Scientists
here.  Most of them you already won't  know,  as their infamity follows them .
Some of them may be familiar, so allow me to introduce them to you now.  To my
far right is Cpl.  Dr.  Zark,   an ignorant on counter-universal structure and
geography;  to my  right Cpl.  Stado,  an ignorant  on  daytime observation of
white-holes; to my far left Sgt.  Dr.   Guilp, an ignorant on the construction
of darktron-wave  warp engines and  their incorporation into  spacecraft;  and
finally my left  hand man on matters of  this kind,  Sgt.  Dr.   Samo Ht,  the
system's foremost ignorant on Trivia-Antitrivia reactions.   Sergeant  Dr.  Ht
comes to us from the Institute for Regressive Presearch on Amrif."
   "Fine,  now  that we're all  ignorant of one another,   lets get up  to the
matter at hand." Said Dr. Zark, wishing to get the blue tape over with.
   "Alright,  rudemen,  may I detract your  attention to the Vidscreen you see
before you.   What  you are seeing  is the product  of a bottom  secret trans-
counter-universal communications presearch project that  NSIS has been working
on  for  the last  several  Losar  Cycles.    The  images which  you  see  are
computational composite images of the  most probable counter-universal sources
for white-body radiation in our  universe.   Note specifically the chronograph
in the lower left  corner of the Vidscreen.   The sources  change from one low
energy body to another,  and the fluctuation between bodies has an upper limit
of no longer than one On.   Now note the following:  For the last ten Ons, the
source has remained constant. An image of it should come up right about..."
   "Oh no." blurted Zark
   "Just beautiful!" exclaimed Ht
   "Sorry rudemen, but the image has been confirmed and I assure you there has
been no mistake.   The white-body radiation  increase in our universe over the
last  ten Ons  has been  caused by  none other  than the  build-up and  launch
readying of enough  nuclear weapons on Planet  Earth to blow the  whole Terran
System to the sixth physical dimension."
   "(Screens down)   That's why you men  are here.   Clearly something must be
done to make them  realize that if they succeed in  blowing themselves off the
dimension scan,   they will also  be blowing us  off it with  them.   Somehow,
someway,  before  this conference  is adjourned  we must  devise a  method for
letting the Earthlings know that they are not alone."
   "Yes  but how?"  Queried  Guilp "The  humans  can't  receive darktron  wave
communications   any   more  than   we   can   receive  their   photon   laser
communications."
   "Yes,  and if they could,  it would  take trillions of Losar Cycles just to
get there," added Stado.
   "Actually, it would take quintillions,  4.57289 quintillions to be a little
less exact." said Samo.   "I was afraid it would come to this, but then again,
it always does."
   "What in the heavens are you talking  about Ht?" asked Zark.  "You sound as
if you've been there before."
   "Commander  with  your  permission  I would  like  to  raise  the  security
clearance of this meeting to the bottom-most level."
   "What is he talking about Commander Valtrep?  I thought that an Omega Class
security clearance WAS the bottom-most class." said Stado.
   "It is, for Sunaru.  But not for NSIS.   There are several lower classes in
NSIS." The commander explained.  "In anticipation of your request,  I took the
liberty of  having that level  security check  done,  merely a  formality,  of
course,  and  you all  passed.   Here  are your  Class Omega-Alpha:Alpha-Omega
security passes.  Dr. Ht would you please be mean enough to explain the future
of these security level passes?"
   "Sure," said Ht.  "This  is not the first time the Humans  have tried to do
away with themselves..."
                               Mari A. Paulson

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                         Featured Author: JAMES KAHN
   James Kahn is  neither prolific nor well-known in the  vast fantasy market.
He has written a mystery novel named "Diagnosis:  Murder", and has contributed
to other works as well.  His works of fantasy are limited to a series known as
the "New  World Trilogy".   The first  volume is entitled "World  Enough,  and
Time" and is  a unique and provocative  work set in a  more-than-half mythical
future  California.   It  is an  excellent tale,   and Kahn  has succeeded  in
bringing a refreshing newness to old mythical  creatures and the typical post-
cataclysm Earth stories.
   The second book  of the trilogy,  "Time's  Dark Laughter",  is a  much more
mature book, with more ominous plots and more involved implications.  However,
the main characters  remain the same,  and  their honesty and goodness  do not
change.   In  "World Enough",   the characters are  interested only  in saving
themselves,  while in "Laughter" they are forced  into action to stop a threat
to the entire area.  The third book, to the best of my knowledge, has not been
released as yet, but, believe me, I'm looking!
   Kahn's style is very good.   The books  are excellent for readers who enjoy
light (but far from mindless or dull)  reading.   The books are exceptional in
style, as the author brings a new richness to old beasts and situations.  Kahn
is an excellent fantasist, and these books are well worth the effort to find.
   Which brings up a point.  They may very well prove hard to find.  Published
by Del  Rey in  1980 and 1982,   respectively,  there are  few copies  left on
bookstore shelves,  and  Kahn's relative anonymity has  hampered volume sales.
The books are, nonetheless, excellent works,  and are well worth the effort to
find.    Perhaps when  the third  volume is  issued  there will  be a  renewed
interest, and old volumes will again be stocked.
                           Orny  <NMCS025 @ MAINE>

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                                   Backing
   Greg looked out  on the massed faces.   The road was rough,   and the sheet
metal cart he was in bounced and boomed over the potholes. He was often thrown
against the sides of the cart, scraping his hands. He would have sat down, but
then he wouldn't have been able to avoid the occasional thrown rock. The scene
looked so much like  the old movies he had seen of  the French Revolution that
had he not been the one in the tumbrel, he would have laughed.
   He felt little anxiety over his impending execution.  He had been expecting
it for some time.  In fact, it was almost a relief,  after the days of running
and hiding,  constantly fearing that someone would  turn him in.  He felt more
sorrow for his young companions in the cart.   They stood back to back,  their
arms tied together.  They  were close friends in life,  and  their captors had
decided that they would be close friends in death. One of them turned to him.
   "You'd think  they were angry  with us or something."  He had to  raise his
voice to be heard over the angry sound of the mob.
   "Yeah,   like we'd  been  trying  to change  their  whole  way of  life  or
something."
   Greg's reply rang true.  Even as he said it,  Greg thought back to that day
when he had first set eyes on this planet.
   "What!?" He couldn't believe his ears. "I'm going to tell them what!?"
    "You must tell them that they had better straighten up their act,  because
the  new world  order is  coming,   and it  won't  tolerate the  way they  are
presently living."
   "You can't be serious.   What is this new world order  business?  And who's
going to be running it?"
   "We are."
   Greg couldn't  believe his  ears.  He had  been sent to  the planet  by the
Paixians,  a group that had suddenly appeared  on the galactic scene only five
years previously,  with technology and power that put everything else in space
to shame.   Yet they  had consistently  used their  power only  to help  other
planets, to build the new,  to repair the old,  to help where help was needed.
True,  they weren't a  real major force in the economic  market,  nor did they
enter into  any alliances,   but they were  always on the  minds of  the major
policy makers,  as an unknown and possibly  influential factor.  But in no way
did they fit the description of empire builders.
   Yet,  here was  one of them,telling him  in all seriousness that  he had to
tell the people of this planet,of all planets,  that they were about to become
someone else's subjects.  That was sheer suicide, by any standards.  He was at
the time standing on Arelite,  the home  planet of the Arelites,  known galaxy
wide for their short  tempers and hard hitting shock troops.   No people had a
greater planetary pride.They had, before the arrival of the Paixians,  totally
sterilized half of the  populated bodies in their system in  a war that lasted
three days and which had started when  their ambassador had been insulted at a
state dinner held on their sister planet, Buccus. And he had to tell them...
   "Right."
   He had been  told to recruit 5,000  Arelites to help with  his announcement
plans.  He was not given ambassadorial  status.  In fact,  the Arelites didn't
even know he was on the planet. Fortunately.
   "But don't worry. You have our full backing."
   Elein, his traveling mate, stood beside the Paixian.
   "You'll love it Greg. You always liked public speaking."
   He hated public speaking.
   He  had been  given  money,   and the  names  and  locations of  the  major
broadcasting facilities,   so that  was no  problem.  Recruiting  Arelites to,
effectively, betray their own planet, was something entirely different,  or so
he thought.  To his surprise, for about 2 weeks solid,  every person he talked
to, or so it seemed, was discontented, upset with the government,  anxious for
a  better life,   or  somehow  mentally prepared  for  the  concept of  a  new
management, so to speak. They were quickly added to the ranks of his small but
growing cadre,  and in turn started feeling out prospective members.  At first
he wondered at the surprising amount of  turncoats,  but soon realized that it
was no coincidence that  they had happened to be in the area  the same time he
was.  It seemed that the Paixians were using every means at their well stocked
disposal to  throw him the best  possible combination of recruits.   They came
from every walk  of life,  and yet they  seemed to fit together  like a glove.
With the gentle  philosophy of the Paixians  flowing through the group  at the
instruction of Greg,  they soon had enough people to cover all the bases,  the
contacts  to get  into  the studios,   the  men  to create  the  tapes of  the
broadcasted message,   the managers  to combine all  the efforts.   With great
anticipation, they set a date, and spun the tapes.
   The result was  spectacular,  but predictable.  Most of the  group had gone
underground the week before  the broadcast,  but Greg and a  few hand selected
aids stayed behind,  so that had the  reaction been more favorable there would
have been someone readily available to lead the throngs.  The throngs came all
right,  carrying nooses.  The only reason Greg et al had not died outright was
that the secret police were faster than the raging lynch mobs.
   A sudden stop brought Greg back to the  here and now.  He looked around and
saw that they were stopped in front of  a large white marble building.  He and
the two others were herded inside,  where they were whisked five stories up to
where a wide  balcony opened out.  There  the government had,  just  for them,
erected a large  steel guillotine,  complete with basket.  As  he stepped into
view, the crowd below started a chant.  As they were pulling the blade up,  he
was able to hear the words floating up from the assembled masses.
   "Kill them! Kill them!"
   How original.
   There was no ceremony. He was roughly forced onto the steel table.   He saw
out of  the corner  of his  eye a  gaudily clad  general raise  his arm.   The
chanting ceased. The general paused dramatically,and dropped his arm. He heard
the sliding  of the blade,   then there was a  blow like a  sledgehammer,  and
everything went blinding white.
   And stayed that way.  He felt no pain.  He did, after a moment, get annoyed
with the strain  of holding his head up.   Then he realized that  he should no
longer have to hold his head up,  much  less be able to.  He realized that his
hands were now free.  He cautiously raised his body,  and found that he was no
longer locked in by steel. The light dimmed, and became normal.  He opened his
eyes, and looked around.
   "Good job, Greg."
   "I think I've asked this before. Elein, Why aren't I dead?"
   Behind Elein stood the Paixian who brought him to Arelite.
   "What were you worrying about? I told you you had our backing."
   Greg looked  back.  The crowd  below was  running,  in every  direction but
towards the building.   The guillotine still stood,  from the  table top down.
Where the blade guides  had been there were now two,   shining square patches,
sliced off flush, polished to a mirror surface.
   "I blew the rest of it into orbit.   That's the flash you saw." The Paixian
was grinning widely.  "I enjoy grandstanding.  Don't  get to do it very often.
The guys in upstairs  said it was one of the greatest  starting guns they ever
saw."
   "Actually you blew it further out than just orbit.  You might have actually
given it escape velocity."
   Greg looked around.  He saw his two companions,  grinning and rubbing their
bruised wrists. He saw Elein, listening with an amused expression.  He saw the
Paixian. But none of them had spoken.
   "Who said that?"
   "That's Michael. You'll be meeting him soon, after we finish mopping up."
   "Mopping up?"
   "Yes. You can relax. The invasion's over. We won. Of course."
                           Jim Owens  <J1O @ PSUVM>

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                                FSFNET SURVEY
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Rate authors: (6=best,1=worst,0=haven't read)
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  (  ) Aspirin     (  ) Eddings     (  ) Lewis        (  ) Pournelle
  (  ) Bradbury    (  ) Heinlein    (  ) Lovecraft    (  ) Saberhagen
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Are there any other authors you feel are particularly noteworthy?

Rate the FSFnet zines (6=best,1=worst,0=did not read)
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