Moe Lane's Blog, page 622
December 20, 2021
12/20/21 Snippet, THE STARS ARE WRONG.
Reality!
Patreon!The Vicar’s teeth showed, bright and white. “And what mishap would be greater than a dozen half-drunk, half-maddened Guardians being swallowed up by the streets?”
“Hundreds of sober ones with axes and torches, come to burn out the Razor District,” I said promptly.
“Ha!” barked the Vicar — and I do believe that he found the situation grotesquely, pervertedly amusing — “they will come anyway, your lost Guardians or not. Your masters will not attempt to stay their coming wrath, even if your comrades still live, and are brought forth. Dead fools might still have some perceived value to Seacity; alive ones enjoy none.”
“And what value is that, Reverend?” I asked, putting a bold face on a sinking stomach. Because he was correct, and his next words proved it:
“Why, Guardian Ward, they will serve as a most wondrous excuse. So rejoice! This self-chosen duty of yours is as naught. You are free from the fetters of responsibility, for what you do does not matter. You might as well return to your comrades, and prepare yourself for the coming assault.” He knelt again, this time head bowed towards the altar. “Rejoin the formless horde your city has spawned, and find what peace you can manage.”
‘Feliz Navidad.’
#commissionearned
December 19, 2021
‘The Season’s Upon Us.’
The Season’s Upon Us, Dropkick Murphys
#commissionearned
12/19/21 Snippet, THE DOOM THAT CAME TO LUNA CITY.
I didn’t get as much done as I’d like on this one today, but I did get stuff done. That’s the important thing.
Patreon!Step one was checking his suit for external piggy-back riders. And it was good that they did; an orb-camera found several black globules on Tobias’s suit, out of sight but not reach. They were sticky, but came away without residue — but Tobias sprayed ammonia dust on the affected areas anyway. “Better safe than sorry,” he muttered.
Then he just had to patch himself into the bus’s intercom without using the newly-reestablished communications network. It was one of those jobs that was mildly tricky with Asenath’s help and absolutely impossible without it; Tobias often wondered what he’d do without her help. He did not wonder why the other people at Heinlein Base never seemed to use her services, mostly because he had learned not to have (or remember) that particular sequence of thoughts. It always ended up distressing him, often to the point of passing out.
But the real tricky part was convincing Buckley and Jillian that Tobias was — well, if not fine, then currently in control of his own head. It turned out they didn’t need any particular warning. “The longer you were in there, sir,” Buckley said, “the weirder you all got. I mean, we could watch it happen in real time. Whatever’s going on in that place, it’s moving damned fast.”
12/19/21 Snippet, THE STARS ARE WRONG.
Church! What could possibly go wrong?
Patreon!More surprises awaited me inside. There was so much light, to begin with, cast from what must have been a hundred lanterns. I knew that the Kee were notoriously bad at seeing in the dark, but if this was more to their liking then they must find the outside dim, indeed. It was almost too much for me to bear at first, but I learned quickly not to directly look at any one given lamp; my eyes also seemed to adjust after a few moments. But only to a certain degree, and the sharp shadows threatened to make me shiver.
Another surprise was the congregation. That there were many here after curfew did not shock me, or even alarm me, since every person here was one on the streets not causing trouble. But there were more non-Kee than I expected. Most hunched over as if to avoid my gaze, but a few stared back, unblinking and defiant. For my part, my impulse was to match glare for glare, but why should I? This was a Seacity temple, not some primitive shrine to the dead gods of the Kee. They all had every right to worship here, alongside anyone else of the faith willing to abide their presence.
It occurred to me that they might not wish to abide my presence, but nobody said a word as we walked up the aisle to the central altar. A man kneeled there, back to the congregation, and praying to the image of the Dreamer that hung on the back wall. As we reached him, Willkoad hastily went to one knee in front of the image, his hand firmly dragging me down to do the same. It was not a ritual of the Dreamer, but I allowed him to direct me. I had no quarrel with this god, after all, and it would not hurt me to show Him respect.
Or so I thought.
12/19/21 Snippet, TINSEL RAIN.
I’m running out of easy fixes, alas.
Patreon!Hagen was the kind of guy who aimed for ‘dapper’ but landed in ‘fussy:’ he had brown hair oiled to precision and his mustache hairs were individually groomed. “Thank you.” He talked like somebody who took classes to hide his childhood accent, which I was pegging as being either Tourista or Hawaii. Either would make sense; getting out of the slums is incentive for a lot of people.
“I understand that you’re involved in the Arenque murder?” he said.
I blinked. “You asking if I’m investigating it, or I did it? — Because either way, the answer’s no. Who’s Arenque?”
That actually startled Hagen, to the point where he was scratching his chest in no little confusion. “Ah. Carmine Arenque Fogg. He was found murdered this morning? In an alley?”
“Oh, right. Him. Like I said, I’m not on that one.” I gave Hagen a slightly vague look. “You got anything on that, you should go talk to the cops. Maybe they can solve it before I get sucked in. I hate investigating murders in alleys.”
Hagen still looked confused, but he recovered pretty quick. “My apologies, Mr. Vargas. Clearly I was given incorrect information. Sorry to bother you.” He stood up.
I smiled at him, while not rising. “Not at all, Mr. Hagen. As I said: the door was open. Was there anything else I could help you with?”
“Not at this time, Mr. Vargas. Not at this time. Have a good afternoon.” And with that, he left.
I gave it a sixty second count before I shoved the small club in my lap back into the sling under my desk. I hadn’t been sure if Hagen had been reaching for an envelope full of bribe money, or just a flashy dagger. Probably the latter: he had that look. I would have hit him either way, mind you. You don’t bribe Shamuses.
December 18, 2021
Book of the Week: QUANTUM OF NIGHTMARES (Laundry series).
Charles Stross’ QUANTUM OF NIGHTMARES comes out in less than a month, so I might as well grab it now. Come, I will conceal nothing from you: I don’t read these to be scared. I read them because Charlie is a very good writer, and because I find it soothing to read horror written by somebody who’s scared by stuff* that I simply don’t find to be very terrifying. It gives me a certain detachment, and allows me to take the time to savor the book.
So, yeah, I’m looking forward to this one.
*In his case, mostly involving the Things We Don’t Talk About Here.
In the Mail: KOLCHAK: THE NIGHT STALKER (TV series).
This version of the KOLCHAK: THE NIGHT STALKER TV show was half off of an already low price. Seriously, getting this show for cheap ain’t easy. But so totally worth it, if you’re into gloriously bad 1970s monster-of-the-week network TV horror. I look forward to watching this, in my copious free time.
#commissionearned
