chtorr

[Enforcer Talen]

any fans?

[CorSec]

Yup, at least two of us stuck here. I'm anxiously awaiting the next book (allegedly out some time this year). I even read that there's a script floating around Hollywood for it - but I don't have any hope of that ever happening. I think it'd make a better series or mini-series on Sci-Fi than anything else.

By all means, take the moral high ground. All that heavenly backlighting makes you an easier target. - Solomon Short

[Enforcer Talen]

hehe. that was my sig for a while. . . chtorr.com talks about the movie, not sure if it will come out, but the site sure looks pretty. . heh.

I'm tempted to have a limerick reading day at this site, just for fun . .

[Darth_Shinji]

Make that three. This series is so cool and so extreamly fuck-up.

And I hope the author was lying about the next novel in a interveiw I've read. Or it's going to suck.

[Enforcer Talen]

well, the plot seemed much similar to book 3. he gets captured again, goes insane again. eh.

[Enforcer Talen]

chtorr, preview, book 5

"Ignorance is natural. Stupidity takes commitment."

—Solomon Short



The chopper jerked in the air. The pilot pulled it up and around, nearly sliding us sideways out the open door. Lizard grabbed for me — a reflex. She clutched at my arm only for a moment, then pulled herself up, swearing like a longshoreman. Angrily, she began untying the restraints that still held her firmly in her stretcher.

We tilted hard then and I stared straight down at another chopper just dropping down out of the air, landing in the jungle, in a clearing carved by a daisy-cutter bomb, dotted with scattered tents and crates of supplies and the wreckage of the Hieronymus Bosch. The aircraft became the instant center of a scrambling cluster of soldiers and civilians.

We tilted again, righting ourselves this time, and I saw another chopper, orbiting the camp opposite us. Its guns were firing away at something in the distance. I became aware of the sounds — red and purple screeches, punctuated with the thudding blasts of explosions, both near and far.

"What are you doing?" Lizard demanded of the pilot.

"Orders. We have to orbit and provide covering fire until the chopper behind us gets off the ground. Then he’ll provide cover for the next one. And so on." He grinned back at us. "Sit back and enjoy the ride. You’ll get the best view of the war yet. I guarantee you." The pilot was a stocky kid with a ruddy complexion. He looked like he was having a terrific time. Probably, he was. The copilot was pointing at something and shouting. Behind us, the two gunners were launching cold-rockets, one after the other, with alarming enthusiasm.

Lizard and I exchanged a glance. It was amateur night. She looked annoyed as hell. Frustrated beyond words. I was sure she would have preferred to fly us out herself. The other passengers in this lifeboat looked equally unhappy. We’d lifted off with four GI’s, two torch-bearers, and a corpsman. I wondered what they’d been through. The torch-bearers looked exhausted. The others just seemed terrified — as if they’d had a glimpse down the mouth of hell. Probably they had. The corpsman had his eyes closed and was reciting his prayers.

We circled around the evacuation camp and I caught a glimpse of the pink skin of the Bosch sprawled across the jungle canopy. It stretched out for acres. Parts of it still ballooned upward like gigantic bulging breasts and stomachs and arms. Other parts sagged like the shrunken skin of a corpse. Here and there, metallic bones shone through, poking brokenly upward. I saw red maggots crawling across the body —

"All right, we’re clear," the pilot called. I looked down as we banked and saw the other chopper lifting off. The next one came dropping down behind it.

Lizard had climbed forward, to stare past the pilot’s shoulder. Now, she reached forward and grabbed his shoulder. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "You’re heading south!"

"Wanna get a better look," the pilot said. "Never seen worms up close before." He pointed ahead. "Look — !"

By now, I had loosened the bonds on my stretcher, and dragged myself halfway up too. Despite the splints, my knee still twinged with fire every time I moved. Behind me, the corpsman made cautionary noises about my leg. I told him to stuff it. After what I’d just been through, this was luxury.

Peering ahead through the clear dome of the vehicle, I could see what had excited the pilot. A fantastic river of huge scarlet bodies poured through the jungle. Thousands of Chtorran gastropedes from the Japuran mandala were pursuing the great sky-god that had passed across the roof of their world. Their song was audible even over the steady thwup-thwup of the chopper’s blades and the droning roar of its engines. The two young men in the cockpit seemed fascinated, almost to the point of being stupefied.

Lizard was shouting at them. "Don’t be stupid! Don’t you know the Chtorran ecology is hostile to aircraft engines!"

"Relax, honey," the pilot said. "You’re in good hands. Let the men handle this." Gently, he disengaged her hand from his shoulder. "I’ll drive."

Copilot pointed downward. "Let’s get close-ups — "

"Right. They’ll be worth a fortune. What do you think Newsleak will pay?"

Lizard was unfastening something from her collar. One of her stars. She reached around and held it up in front of the pilot’s eyes. She waited until she was sure that he had focused and recognized it. "My name is not ‘honey,’" she said. "It is ‘General Tirelli, sir!’ And you will turn this fucking ship around and head north for Yuana Moloco, right now, or I will drag you out of that seat and fly it myself. That is a direct order. Acknowledge it now!"

I had to give the kid credit. He didn’t flinch. "Sorry, ma’am. I have standing orders to do a photo reconnaissance. You may be a general, but my commanding officer is an even bigger son-of-a-bitch." He brushed her hand away. "You can threaten me all you want, but I’m still flying this rig, and if you interfere with my piloting again, I’ll file formal charges against you the minute we touch down."

Lizard was tired and weak. Otherwise the expression on her face would have put him into the hospital. Or perhaps she knew she couldn’t win this argument. I crawled laboriously forward. "Who gave you those orders, Captain?"

It was the use of the word Captain that got him. He said, "Standard operating procedure for all Chtorran operations requires—"

"In North America, yes," I agreed. "But not here. The general was right. There’s lumps in the air. Some of them big enough to hurt. What do you think brought down the dirigible?"

He didn’t answer. Not right away. He busied himself with buttons and knobs for a minute, pretending to be checking something. Suddenly he spoke in a whole other tone of voice, "Listen — every goddamn son-of-a-bitch in the world is getting a chance to burn these mothers. And every goddamn son-of-a-bitch in the world except me is getting rich off them. This is my chance to make some money, and not you, not anybody, is going to stop me. Understand?"

I lowered my voice. "I got it. Loud and clear. Just one more question. Is it worth dying for?"

He shook it away. "I know what I’m doing," he said. "I’ve logged nearly a hundred hours in the simulator."

I looked at Lizard. "Oh, god," I said. "He sounds like me."

She was too frustrated to appreciate the joke. Wearily, she repinned her star onto her collar. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me — taking care not to bump my knee. She was tired and her hug was feeble, but it meant the world to me. We pulled ourselves closer together and she rested her head on my shoulder. "Luna," she whispered. "We’re going to Luna."

"Why not one of the L5’s?" I whispered back. "We’d have Earth-normal gravity."

"I’m betting we can get a better salad on the moon. And there are no steaks on the L5’s yet."

"Good point. We’d better go before you start showing. Can you arrange it in the next three months?"

"How fast can you pack?"

"I’m already packed. I have everything I want right here."

"As soon as I can get to a phone — "

The chopper lurched then. Both Lizard and I glanced forward, but the pilot seemed unconcerned. "Speed bump," he explained.

Lizard’s expression said it all. She didn’t believe him. She saw me looking at her and smiled reassuringly.

"Problem?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Just my overworked imagination." But she held up a hand for silence while she listened intently to the sound of the engines. I couldn’t hear anything; they sounded fine to me, but Lizard narrowed her eyes at something.

She leaned forward again. "What’s that gleebling noise?"

The pilot replied in a laconic drawl. "Gleebling is normal for these frammis-whackers. If it were a greebling noise, however, then we’d have something to worry about."

Copilot added, "‘Gleebling’ means ‘good evening’ in the Drunk-to-English dictionary."

Lizard ignored them both. "What does the FADPAC say?"

Both pilot and copilot looked up. Lizard looked too. The voice monitor was off.

"You assholes. Where’d you learn to fly? Disneyland?!!" She reached up to switch the unit on —

The pilot slapped her hand away. "I’m flying this bird, lady!"

"Not very well!" she snapped right back.

"I don’t need a voice yammering in my ear — "

"Well, you got one now! Me!"

"Get in the back where you belong, goddammit!" He turned half-around in his seat, like an angry parent preparing to swing at an errant child.

Lizard had already unholstered her pistol. Now, she clicked the safety off and pointed it directly at his head. "Turn. The. Monitor. On."

He froze.

The copilot reached up slowly and switched on the systems analysis unit. Immediately, the familiar synthetic-female voice of "Fay" began reporting, "Number 2 engine reserve deterioration 6 percent."

Instantly, the pilot reached up and tapped the yellow panel of the device. This would give him a more detailed report. "Gas particulate limits exceeded. Non-recoverable performance loss."

"What the hell — ?"

"You’ve flown through something. That was the bump we felt," I said. "Possibly a hovering cloud of stingflies. They’re invisible. They follow the worms."

"I never heard of that — "

"Gee, that’s too bad," I said sympathetically. "In that case, maybe we won’t crash. God grants dispensation if you have a good excuse."

He didn’t answer. He was suddenly busy with his controls. So was the copilot. I looked to Lizard. She was watching them both intently. Absent-mindedly, she reholstered her pistol. She began offering suggestions. Suddenly, the argument was over and the three of them were working as a team, discussing their options. I couldn’t understand a word of their techno-jargon, but it was clear that all thoughts of the photo-mission had been forgotten.

"North?" asked the copilot.

"North," confirmed the pilot. Already, he was swinging the bird around. He looked scared. I actually felt sorry for him. His delusions of immortality had just been shattered.

As if in confirmation, the chopper lurched again. It was a barely noticeable bump, but the blood drained out of their faces. Immediately, the voice of Fay was reporting, "Combined engine performance is now 86 percent. And dropping." A moment later, she added, "Pressure failure in the primary set."

"Shit!" said Lizard. "What’s the run-dry time on this bird?"

"We’ve got active-magnetic bearings." The pilot was studying a performance projection. "We should be able to make it back — if we don’t hit anything else."

Lizard looked to me. Her expression said it all. What else do we have to worry about?

I shook my head and shrugged.

Something above us chuffled. The rotors? Almost immediately, smoke began pouring out behind us. One of the gunners started screaming. Fay began yammering. Pilot and copilot were both suddenly very busy. Lizard shouted instructions. We lurched and bumped. I looked out my side of the chopper. I could see the smoke streaming away into the distance. There were burning flecks of something churning in the greasy black trail.

"Aww, God, no — " the pilot cried. He was fighting his controls.

Lizard shouted at him, she grabbed his shoulder, and pointed forward. A wide black streak of water cut through the dense greenery. "Head for the river! Keep away from the trees."

I glanced back. Both the gunners looked pale. The passengers were wailing. The wind grabbed the bird and pushed us sideways. Either it was the wind — or we were whirling out of control —

The jets were suddenly louder. Roaring! We lurched and bounced across the sky. I bumped my head against the roof of the cabin. Then we caught the air again and came swooping down and up in a wild roller-coaster ride through a dizzying starboard turn. We banked over and around and finally down toward a dark canyon of trees. Too far! -- Abruptly, we pulled hard left and up! Things went skittering sideways out of the bird, tumbling downward into the jungle.

The pilot was fighting for control and trying to follow the course of the water, swearing and yelling all at the same time. Copilot was hollering maydays into his mike as fast as he could, yammering like a monkey. The river straightened suddenly and just as improbably so did we, racing lower and lower toward the inky surface.

"Slow down!" Lizard shouted. "Watch for a sand bar — "

"I’m trying! I can’t control her! The goddamn intelligence engine is fighting me — "

"You’re fighting it," she corrected. "Ease up! It’s trying to compensate for your panic!"

By now, we were perilously close to the black water below. We skated over shallow stretches of mud and sand and dark eddies with broken trees and branches sticking dangerously up out of them. Our reflection shimmered across the depths, flickering in and out of existence as we crossed the occasional sand flat. The spars in the water stretched up toward us like fingers.

Suddenly, we were stalling, sliding. We bounced! Sheets of water sprayed away from the chopper. We bounced a second time — a third! Something spanged against the bottom of the ship and we spun around, slipping sideways and turning, then abruptly came crashing to a sudden, jarring stop as something crunched in through the front window, shattering the plexiglas in all directions and thudding up against the framework, catching the chopper in a tangled grip and holding us sideways, pulling us downward toward the wet stinking river. The water splashed and flooded upward into the cabin. The rotors shrieked and slammed to a sudden halt in the tangle of branches; they exploded in a fury off the top of the ship. The aircraft hissed and crackled. Foam began flooding up and over everything, cascading down the outside of the ship in thick white sheets.

We’d collided with a tree that had toppled into the river. The chopper was caught. And sinking fast.

[Darth_Shinji]

I've heared he kills lizard and the baby, That will be too depresing to me.

[CorSec]

If you're talking about the interview found in the back of the last book, more than half of that is misleading. At the time Method for Madness was just past the idea stage. DG wasn't about to paint himself into a corner or give away major (or even minor) plot points. Though it is possible something -or anything- could happen to anyone at anytime.

[Enforcer Talen]

and the interview also has;

reporter: so, synopsis of book 5?
dg: um, ok. the chopper crashes, the baby and lizard die, the main pc gets captured by worms and grows fur, we learn that the worms are 8 sexed telepathic insects, etc. . .
reporter: your not serious.
dg: I guess you'll have to read the book then, wont you?

oh, and a song I find greatly amusing is at: http://members.aol.com/ChtorrFan/index.html

[Darth_Shinji]

oh, okay. Good.