***Zorakk

Strip Poker

from
TALES OF CASA ALTO
Volume I of the Star Nomad Chronicles

STARDATE*: 3/9201.09
Starport West Sector -- Casa Alto
70 Ophiuchi Star system

The Tri-Dee projected a huge battleship of the feared Kafer* Hegemony. The Kafer Alpha Class battleship was being attacked by the brave – but terribly out gunned X-Wing and Viper pilots of the Planetary Defense Command. The small, one-man starfighters buzzed around the interstellar behemoth, their phaser beams splashing harmlessly on the dead shields. The Kafer battleship belched a swarm of deadly hunter/killer missiles from its antiaircraft missile ports. Somehow, most of the attacking X-Wing and Vipers managed to avoid the deadly barrage of nuclear tipped missiles launched at them by the inhuman foe.

The scene dissolved and was immediately replaced by a view of the Kafer Admiral's command bridge aboard the flagship of the Task Force. The only sound was the muted hum of the engines and the sharp crackling sizzle as officer applied their thought invokers to the tender underhides of the Kafer crewmen. In the corner of the vast ovoid room, on a raised dais, where all activity on the bridge was under his eyes; the Kafer Admiral [who's name roughly translated into Interlingo as One Who Inspires Fear 3; or {much to the distress of parents and sponcers alike} could just as validly be translated as He Who Kicks Ass] watched the progress of the battle moodily. The starfighters were too fast and agile for the giant main batteries of the Alpha Class battleship to lock onto and track. These main batteries were capable of obliterating a starship hundreds of light seconds away – but they were totally ineffective against the tiny starfighters less that a hundred kilometers [60 miles] away.

The admiral was not happy – a fact that was judiciously noticed by all the ship's officers and sub-officers. Already too much time had been wasted attempting to crush these sub-intelligent vermin – but they were the last remnants of military resistance in the system. When they were gone, nothing could stop his armada from looting and burning on the rich inner planets of the Tarsan Confederation. The Admiral allowed himself a moment of happy contemplation of the slaughter and looting to come.

An under lieutenant scurried up sideways to the command dais, his mandibles clicked together softly in a respectful request for attention – lowest to Most High. The Admiral's bullet shaped head swung toward the underling and fixed him in an icy stare.

"We are ready to launch the interceptors!" The under lieutenant said, averting his own eyes so not to confirm the blood challenge of the Admiral's stare. "That will surly doom the Simians, Great One," he added hopefully.

The Admiral grunted. "About time," he responded. "Launch them at once, and pass the alert to the Shock Troops to be ready for invasion duty!"

The Kafer Admiral's visage faded from the holographic display of the Tri-Dee, and was replaced by that of a pitchman hawking used nerf-fergers at unbelievably low prices. Bobby snatched up the control pad and turned the set off.

"Those Kafers are pretty slippery critters," the boy said. "Commander X had better be careful, or they'll get him!"

"Naw," Corey drawled. "Those ole cockroaches'll NEVER beat Commander X."

"I wish there was a Kafer here right now!" Michael said savagely. "I'd kick 'em!" And the seven-year-old proceeded to do his best karate kick.

"Yeah?" Douglas laughed, "And your foot would bounce right off his carapace!"

"And then he'd eat you up!" Booby said and began to tickle and wrestle with Michael.

"Take that! Bbzzaapp!" Corey screeched, jumping up and pointing his finger like a phaser pistol. "You can't do that to my friend!"

"Sure he can!" Shouted Douglas, "'Cause I'm one TOO!"

Douglas lunged at Corey, grabbing the other boy around the waist, and using his momentum to take them both spilling over a hassock and onto the floor.

In a moment all four boys were in the throws of imaginary combat to the death against implacable foes, wrestling and shouting. They were totally unaware of the approach of Heather Zimmerman.

"Shut up, you little baboons!" the thirteen-year-old girl yelled crossly. "How can I be expected to do my homework with all that yelling and screeching going on?" The older girl scowled at the boys who were frozen in mid-form. Her hands were balled into fists and these were jammed into her hips. "You guys know I'm trying to pass my Phase III exams*."

"We're sorry Heather 3;" Bobby began.

"Not good enough!" Heather cut him off in mid-sentence, waving her compu-pal toward the door. "Go outside if you want to do all that yelling!" As if to emphasize this, she threw an isolinear data chip at the door before stamping back upstairs to the second floor of the three story Victorian house. "It's TOO early in the morning to do all that screaming," the girl muttered.

The four boys looked at each other. Corey shrugged his shoulders and headed for the door.

"It's not fair – it's NOT too early!" Michael said, holding up his wrist with the chronometer on it. Michael was extremely proud of the devise – not because it was super accurate, or had exotic features, but because of the fact that he had picked it out and bought it with his own money earned at the Club. It made him feel very grown up.

"It's not too early," Michael repeated for emphasis. The holographic display, a little fuzzy at the edges, but still fully readable, hung suspended in front of Michael where the projector was aimed. It said: 07:13 AM – 21 Indian Summer*, 2392. "What's the matter with her? She's been grouchy all week?"

"They only give the Phase III exams once every six months," Bobby explained. "And Heather is about a year younger than most of the other kids who'll be trying to pass Phase III – she's just nervous, that's all."

The four boys stood around on the porch of the Victorian house on Rampart that they shared with a group of kids from the Hootchie Kootchie Klub* feeling very put upon by the Powers That Be.

"What'll we do?" Asked Douglas. "It's TOO cold to wrestle on the ground."

"Yeah," Corey agreed, "And too slushy." The nine-year-old stepped off the porch and onto the grass. Water immediately formed around his shoe, indicating that the ground had absorbed as much water as it could from the rains of the past week.

"We could go to the Club and play Triad*," Bobby suggested.

"But there's always a lot of big kids playing 3;" began Michael. "And they'll never let us play!"

The boys sat down heavily on the steps and brooded.

Then two other boys can running full tilt down the street.

"Hey, you guys," the new comers yelled as they came into the yard at 603 South Rampart.

"Hi, Wesley! Hi Brian!" shouted Michael. "C'mon, you guys, let's do something with Wesley and Brian!"

"We're going to the UTC building to play," Wesley told them.

"Good!" Bobby said, "We can play Star Quest."

"Yeah," Corey agreed, "C'mon you guys." All six boys left the wide yard in front of the house together.

The boys walked down 6th street toward Star Port Avenue, turning west on the wide avenue, the boys indulged in some window shopping as they passed stores of interest, mostly toy stores and military surplus stores. At the corner of 8th Street and Star Port Avenue, Michael paused and stared into the large plexisteel* windows of the Central Tubeway* Station.

"What'sa'matter?" asked Bobby.

"Hey, look, you guys. I got $10.00 left over from my tips last night," the seven-year-old said. "Let's go into the snack bar and get some breakfast. I'm hungry!"

"Sounds good to me," Douglas said, patting his tummy. "I'm starved too! I've got $3.00 I can throw into the pot."

"I thought Kristy took care of your tips, Michael," Corey said to the younger boy.

Michael blushed bright red and squirmed a little. "Not ALL of them. Sometimes I don't tell her about all of them."

"Aaa'ahah!" the older boys said nearly in unison and laughed.

"Naughty, naughty, Michael!" Wesley grinned at him.

"Well it's my money! I don't have to give her everything!" Michael said defensively. "After all, she's only two and a half years older'n me anyway," he growled. "I can take care of my own money if I want to!"

"Okay," Bobby laughed, "We won't tell, especially since you've offered to buy breakfast."

Wesley sighed. "I wish my Mom and Dad would let me work at the Hootchie Kootchie Klub. You guys always have money."

"Yeah," Douglas started, "But sometimes it's not so fun when some mean grup* wants to do some bad things to you 3;"

Bobby looked sideways at his friend Douglas. "You 'n Corey are still a little scared aren't you?"

"You'd be scared too if you had to do some of the stuff that Dougie and I did at McGirk's Farm – just to stay alive," Corey came to rescue of his friend.

"Aww, okay. But the Klub is nothing like Beth-el Azar* 3;" Bobby said and a shiver went down his spine.

"C'mon you guys, let's not talk about it anymore. I'm hungry!" Michael said.

The tubeway station was crowded with commuters, both human and XTs attempting to reach their destinations in a reasonable period of time with the least hassle – a job of Herculean proportion on post-Bombardment Tarsus – even here in the capitol of Casa Alto, where the defense screens had turned aside the greater portion of the Saurian enemy's attack. Although the invaders had not managed to punch through anything material like a fusion bomb, the directed energy weapons of the orbiting enemy had still destroyed large swatches of the Capitol's infrastructure. Now over two years later, the reconstruction of the Tarsus colony was well underway, but still there were large areas of the city that were nothing but blasted rubble and other detritus and debris.

The boys crowded into one of the turbo elevators near the center of the main concourse to ride up to the fifth level where the snack bar and various restaurants and shoppers were located. The turbo elevator was already crowded with adults who looked upon the little boys as disruptions in their commuting day 3; and in these unsettled times, as possible dangers to property, life and limb.

The doors to the lift car slid shut and the car rose ten meters [30 ft] to the mezzanine level. The crowd thinned somewhat as those hurrying to make connections with intra city busses and trains left the car. The third level up was the jet car* dock, and here most of the people on the lift exited.

A CAPD trooper in combat armor and carrying a light assault rifle stepped into the car. Instantly, all conversation died away as the adults nervously began to shift from foot to foot and attempted to look inconspicuous. Several who had intended to go further up, decided that this level was indeed where they wanted to get off the turboelevator. About a dozen adults and the kids were 'trapped' at the rear of the lift.

Both Douglas and Michael attempted to scrunch against the back of the lift, and were rudely pushed forward by a man whose toes they had stepped on. The police trooper noticed the confusion and turned to look at them, slightly shifting the assault rifle as he did. Everyone stood paralyzed as the seven-foot [2 m] tower of plastic and aluminum turned his head and brought his photoreceptors in line with the two boys. A high pitched, almost inaudible whine indicated that he was sending a thermofax* to the watch commander for a wants and warrants check. As the data transfer was completed, the only sound in the lift was the loud wheeze of the trooper's air-breather.

The car stopped at the restaurant level, and Wesley quickly grabbed both younger boy's hands. "C'mon," he said and the six boys began to leave the lift.

"Halt!" the electronically filtered voice of the storm troop said. He reached out to Douglas as he stepped out of the lift. The man's plastic coated fingers closed in a viselike grip on Douglas's arm. There was a sharp intake of breath from Bobby; and Michael uttered a small involuntary scream as the storm trooper stepped out of the car, still holding Douglas by the upper arm. The door to the lift slid shut on the relieved looks of the adults still in the lift.

"You are Douglas Drew," he said with grim finality. "And you are Michael Pasce." The trooper's free hand quickly snaked out to grip Michael. "You are fugitives from the Justice of the State: Escapees from the State Orphanage. You are under arrest for illegal flight to avoid prosecution."

"You're not even supposed to be here!" shouted Wesley. "According to the Treaty of 103rd Street* 3;"

"A shit house lawyer," the CAPD trooper snarled, "Nothing I hate worse than a shit house lawyer 3;"

"My Mom is gonna be a lawyer, and a good one too," Wesley said, and ducked an ill-aimed backhand by the trooper.

"N'yaahhh! You missed me!" Wesley shouted and danced back a few steps.

"Filthy street urchin, I'll 3;"

But suddenly Wesley was a blur of motion as he darted in and gave the unprepared storm trooper a solid shove. "RUN !!!" he screamed at the others. The kids scattered as the storm trooper, caught off balance toppled over into a twisted pile of armor, momentarily released Douglas and Michael.

Michael spun out of the attempted snatch and ran. Douglas turned to follow, but the armored fingers of the CAPD trooper closed on his ankle.

"Not so fast, sewer rat!" came the trooper's rasping electronic snarl. "You're worth $300 to someone. The others would only wind up at Beth-el Azar, but you're valuable to someone – someone who's placed a $300 price on your head."

A ring of curious bystanders had started to form around the armored giant and the small boy.

"David and Goliath," Someone in the crowd muttered.

"Yeah, only this time Goliath wins!" another voice agreed.

The trooper scrambled to his feet, his armor glittering in the pale yellow of the polyarc lights inside the tudeway station. Deep in the remote depths of a terrified eight-year-old's powerfully telepathic mind, something stirred to life and began to gather strength and purpose from the strong emotions of the crowd – the hate, blood lust and even some pity which currently permeated the higher dimensional reality of the Mentalt* realm. The teaching Gestalt that had been implanted in him from the before time* rose into his conscious mind and spoke to him, in a crystal clear voice that triggered all the memories that the eight year old had labored so long and hard to put aside.

The voice sounded exactly like his mother.<<{Douglas, you can do something about this.}>>

>[Huh?]<

<<{Are you ready for the lesson to begin?}>>

>[Ready? Ready for what? This gorilla is going to cream me!]<

<<{Nonsense. You are special. Use the Power.}>>

>[Burn him!? NO! I can't]<

<<{There are other ways to use the Power. Ways that you are mature enough to learn about now. Especially the ways of imposing your will upon the weak or defenseless mind. Here, like so 3; and SO! 3;}>>

A few fleeting milliseconds passed in the subjective world as time seemed to telescope for Douglas. One part of his mind was aware of the fact that his friends had come back, crowding and pushing through the crowd of spectators. Another part of his mind – that part that was different, and which Mommy had called 'Special' was paying strict attention to the teaching gestalt that was showing him something different – something very interesting, oh so interesting 3;.

The storm trooper began to feel groggy and a little lite headed. The first throbbing waves of pain that heralded an approaching migraine headache began to assail him. He shook his head and tried to clear it, but that only made things worse 3; infinitely worse!

'Mut-ah hit harder than I thaw,' the trooper thought. 'Wot a laff McRafferty would have if he knew about that street urchin 3; mut-ah been sa'thin I et 3;'

As clouds of confusion slowly began to rob Patrolman Johann Krebelmann of his higher reasoning functions, his last coherent thought was that the swine of a sergeant must never find out that he'd been caught off guard by a tiny little baby boy 3;

Douglas, fresh from the session with the teaching gestalt was radiating confidence now. The crowd started to shuffle and as a body drew back somewhat. Douglas stood in front of the trooper, who's hands now hung uselessly at his sides, the assault rifle lay forgotten at his feet. The boy made a complex gesture in the air, and the air itself seemed to shimmer and glow with an afterimage of his sign of the slightest fraction of a second before it became just thin air again.

"You are confused," Douglas said in a soft voice.

"Uhnhhnnhh 3; yes, wha's happin'?" even through the breather's electronic filters, the trooper's slurred voice was obvious.

In the crowd, Corey elbowed Wesley. "Watch, he's doing IT!"

"Doing what?"

"I dunno, but the cop has had it. Watch."

"Look't!" Brian hissed.

Douglas reached out and laid a palm flat on the storm trooper's breastplate. "You're sleepy. Take a nap." he said quietly.

The trooper wavered for a minute, unsteadily, weaving back and forth like a drunk, and then collapsed into a heap on the polished onyx concourse floor with a resounding clang of metal and plastic. There was an uneasy silence from the crowd of spectators.

"You couldn't have done that 3; it's impossible!!" said a man in a business suit, clutching a thin metallic briefcase to his chest.

"You didn't see anything," Douglas said looking up at the rather mousey-looking man.

A vacant, distracted look came over the man's features for an instant and then faded away.

"No," he said in an uncertain voice, "No 3; no, of course not," he muttered, more convincingly now, "I saw nothing out of the ordinary, nothing at all."

"Geeze!" Wesley whispered to Corey, "He's a mentalt!"

Suddenly, a woman screamed, and began to back away, her knuckles jammed into her mouth.

"DOMINATOR*!" a man spat the word like a deadly oath. "A frakking dominator! Run for it!"

"Witch!" Someone else shouted, and a soda can flew through the air, narrowly missing Douglas.

"Spawn of Satan!" an old woman clutching a Christian bible and waiving an umbrella in the air roared. "Kill them! Kill them for Jesus!"

"Mutie* scum!"

Wesley, seeing the crowd was turning ugly and violent, quickly grabbed his friend's hand. C'mon," he shouted, and the six kids melted away before the crowd could recover from the shock. The adults showed no signs of attempting to pursue the children as they bolted for the stairway and went down them three or four steps at a time as only kids can do.

It was never known whether the lack of pursuit was due to some mental tweaking by Douglas, or merely the imaginations of the adults kicking in; and showing them the folly of chasing off blindly after an unknown mutant power which no one knew anything about, or how potent it might be.

As they burst out of the stairwell on the ground level they careened into the unsuspecting commuters crowded around the ticket and information terminals on the main concourse. Their momentum carried them through the sea of angry faces and cursing adults to the big main doors and out onto Starport Avenue. The six fugitives quickly ran around into an alley way between a parking lot and a row of ancient quonset hut tenement housing; seeking shelter behind a huge dumpster about halfway down the alley.

"Wow!" Bobby said excitedly after he had caught his breathe, "I still can't believe it."

"Yeah," Wesley cut in, "Dougie's a mentalt! And a powerful one too! What are you? T+2? +3?"

"You should have told us!" Brian said excitedly "What else can you do?"

Douglas blushed, "Oh 3; uh, a lot of stuff."

"WOW!" Brian breathed, "I'll bet. Can you fly?"

"Uh-uh. At least not without a jetcycle!"

"At the McGirk Farm, he took on this big, tough, mean kid that everyone else was afraid of," Corey said.

"Yeah," Michael added, "And even made him cry. They told me the story the first day after they got here from the Farms."

"C'mon, you guys," Douglas said – a little uncomfortable with his sudden meteoric rise to celebrity status. "Let's go over to the 7-11 over on Eleventh Street and get something to eat, I'm hungry!"

"What about the cop?"

"WHEN he wakes up, he won't remember a thing," laughed Douglas, "except for the hangover!"

After doing some shopping for breakfast – consisting of ding-dongs, candy bars, potato chips and soda [a typical kid's breakfast] the boys headed over to the United Technologies Building. The UTC building in down town Casa Alto was a monstrous building covering two square blocks from Rampart to Starport between 12th and 13th streets. It had been deserted and boarded up for as long as recorded history.

When the big kids and teenagers told tales of the long ago days when they themselves had been mini-kids, the UTC Building had been a playground; and occasionally even a grown-up could be coaxed into spinning yarns about the UTC Building in prehistoric times. No one knew for sure why the building had been abandoned, but there were of course the obligatory tales of Zama Khan and his legion of ghost monsters* haunting it.

The building itself was solidly built, and in the days before directed energy weapons and high energy laser cutters, it would have formed an impregnable fortress. It had been constructed from huge basalt blocks cut from deep within the planet's crust. Some of the blocks were as large as 2,500 tons. The stone blocks had been carefully set together, with a special compound filling the cracks, and then fused into one enormous solid, but hollow stone by the incredible heat of laser welders that had caused the joints between the individual stones to liquefy, run together and then resolidify into igneous rock.

Inside it was a huge cathedral like building, some sixteen meters [50 ft] from the solid, fused bedrock floor, to a vast, vaulted ceiling of foamsteel*. Along the front of the building, facing out on Starport Avenue, were four tiers of what must have been at one time offices and conference rooms. All the furnishings and fixtures had long ago been stripped out of the building by salvage firms, but this did not mean that the UTC building was a dead, cold lump of stone. Electric power and water still flowed into the building from the city's power grid and aqueduct systems. Generations of kids had used the building as a club house, playground and fortress. It was now well furnished with home built furniture, wall hangings and other decorations – as well as furniture and appliances liberated from other ruined buildings around the city.

Just after the Bombardment*, a group of kids had undertaken a major renovation project at the UTC building. The materials had come from the Delos Mega Construction Corporation* on Northwestern, and of course had been out right stolen. The eleven to fourteen-year-olds who had carried out the raid, and several subsequent ones, [one with a heavy lift jet truck* and counter-grav pads!] thought that they had escaped undetected. After all, Delos had literally tons of materials in their scrap yards.

Sophisticated security and surveillance equipment in and around the materials yard had, of course, tracked and identified all of the raiders long ago. At first Delos had watched with a mixture of consternation and righteous wrath; but a funny thing began to happen as they watched how the stolen materials were being put to use in the unauthorized renovation project at the UTC Building. Several of Delos's senior engineering and management people (who has coincidentally ALSO played in the UTC Building as kids) began to watch and closely monitor the project.

For the past year, unknown to the kids, they have had an audience that had become totally enchanted and intrigued by the pint-sized architects and engineers working on this project. This interest had become SO prevalent at the company, that company quality assurance people now oversaw in secret all the construction, and on occasion, repair crews had torn down and rebuilt substandard work that might have been dangerous to the kids. The children themselves had always attributed these repairs to gremlins*.

As Brian pushed back a rolling shutter, one of the building's many loading docks was exposed.

"Wow!" was all Douglas, Corey and Michael could say 3; it being their first visit to the UTC Building.

"See! I told you," Brian said proudly, as though he owned building. "C'mon, over here is the elevator. It really works! That's because my big sister helped to fix it."

The boys walked over to the elevator and waited while Brian proudly pressed the call button, which immediately lit as the double doors of the stainless steel elevator car sighed open.

"Usually there's a bunch of kids here," Wesley explained. "It's still early, I guess, but by noon there'll be maybe a hundred kids our age here."

"What about the big kids?" Corey asked.

"Some," Wesley replied, "But for the most part they know that this is a little kid's fort. They come sometimes, some of them, but they don't try to boss us around.

Pushing and giggling the little boys crowded into the elevator and Brian reached out and stabbed at the 'THREE' button. The doors slid shut and somewhere overhead heavy-duty electric motors started to throb and hum as the elevator car rose smoothly up to the third tier.

"We have a club up here," Bobby explained to Douglas, Corey and Michael, "You guys can be in it too!"

"Oh-KAY!" The three boys replied enthusiastically.

The boys walked down the wide hallway, one side of which was lined with big, solid looking oak doors, while the other side was a floor to ceiling solid sheet of transparent crystal. Some of the doors in the hall way had signs on them, some crudely hand lettered, others produced by home computers:

or

"Here it is," Wesley said and pushed open a door with a cardboard sign liberally adorned with skulls and crossed bones and the words:

The room was about eighteen by twenty-four feet [5½ x 7½ m]; the far wall had large plexisteel windows, which reached from floor to ceiling. Currently the windows were polarized so that only a dim gray light filtered through from the outside. The room was furnished with a threadbare sofa bed, a low one meter [3 ft] square table and an ancient recliner chair. On the table was a rickety-looking lamp; the floor was covered by a wide assortment of rug and carpet remnants and samples.

"Pretty neat, huh?" Bobby said, turning to Corey.

"I'll say!" Corey acknowledged and went over to the sofa and flopped down on it. "So 3; what're'we gonna do?"

Wesley grinned at Brian. "Brian 'n me were gonna play strip poker!"

"Yeah!" Michael said in a nasty little boy voice, "Let's!"

"Wanna?" asked Douglas.

"Sure, why not? We're all boys."

"Got any cards?" Corey asked.

Brian went over to the table and opened a drawer. Reaching in, he held up a well worn pack of playing cards. "We're always prepared," he said grinning.

"Okay," Bobby said. "Let's all agree on the rules before we start. Everyone has to start even, so everyone get out of the cold weather gear.

The boys all shed their outerware.

"And NO cheating!" proclaimed Michael in a loud voice.

"Brrr, it's kinda cold in here. If we're gonna play strip poker, you'd better crank up the heat, Brian," Wesley said.

"Okay."

"You guys got a heater?" asked Douglas.

"Better'n that!" Wesley said, "And complements of MY big brother, Kevin. He fixed the central heating system." Brian was standing by a computer wall panel, adjusting the environmental controls.

"And there's more," Bobby said, pressing a wall switch. A portion of the wall slid aside to reveal a small executive food processor, refrigerator and microwave unit. "We can come up here and camp out, without having to rough it 3; all the comforts of home."

The six boys all flopped down on their tummies or sat cross-legged on the largest carpet remnant, which was nearly eight feet [2½ m] on a side. It was a sky-blue shag remnant from some long ago forgotten roll of carpeting.

"Remember," Brian said, looking directly at Wesley. "NO Cheating!"

"Moi?"" Wesley asked innocently.

"Okay, okay," Bobby said. "First we'd better all agree on what beats what." He pulled out a piece of paper and a small stub of a pencil from his pocket. "Okay," he began. "Five of a kind beats everything."

"And a straight flush is next." Douglas chimed in.

After a little arguing over whether three of a kind beats a strait or not, the boys were ready to begin playing. They drew cards to determine who would deal. Douglas won the deal.

"Okay," he said, "We'll play regular five-card stud 3; draw poker."

"What's wild?" Wesley asked.

"Jokers and twos 3;" Douglas paused, screwed up his face while he considered, "and I guess one-eyed Jacks*."

"One more rule," Bobby said. "You can only draw four cards if you've got an Ace, King or Queen."

"Okay?" Douglas asked.

"Yeah, deal."

"Hey! Let's tell dirty stories too !" said Michael hopefully. He was always ready to add to his own stock of raunchy stories and jokes.

"YEAH!"

"Okay, who's got one?" Wesley asked.

"Well," Bobby said slowly, "This isn't a dirty joke, but its got the 'F' word in it 3; and I think its pretty funny."

"Well c'mon, let's hear it!"

"Okay," Bobby said. "What were General Custard's last words?"

"Huhh?" Douglas looked blank, "I dunno."

Brian shrugged his shoulders.

"He said: 'Where did all those fucking Indians come from?'" Bobby said and then collapsed in a heap of laughter. His five friends roared with laughter and rolled around on the carpet.

"That was pretty good," Douglas said, picking up the cards. "How many cards do you want, Wesley?"

Wesley screwed up his face as he scrutinized his cards. He started to throw down two cards and then at the last minute changed his mind, deciding on only one.

"One," he said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Ah-hah!" Douglas said. "That's what I like to see, confidence." He flipped the top card off the deck at Wesley. The other boy's smile grew even wider as he looked at the new addition to his hand.

Douglas distributed cards to the other players and then looked up. "Well, whatya got?" Wesley thought about it for a minute and then said: "I think I want to go last."

"Okay," Michael said. "I gots a strait. Beat that!"

"I didn't get anything!" Bobby complained, tossing the cards into the discard pile at the center of the ring of boys.

"Well, I've got Michael beat," announced Brian. "Four nines, and ace high."

"Damn!" Michael swore and tossed in his cards.

"Beats me," Corey said and tossed in his cards. Douglas also tossed his cards into the discard pile with a dissatisfied snort.

"Four KINGS, ace high." Wesley said laying the cards down with a flourish.

Everyone but Wesley took off their shoes.

"I gotta dirty joke," announced Brian. "My brother told it to me."

"Okay," Wesley said, scooping up the cards to reshuffle them, "tell."

"Okay. Well, it seems that there was this soldier who was coming home from the war 3;"

"What war" asked Michael.

"It doesn't matter," said Bobby impatiently, "It's just a joke. Say it was the Bombardment."

"Anyway," Brian continued, "It started to look like a storm was coming and he was way out in the country. Okay, so you know there was this farm house and so he goes and knocks on the door 3;"

"Knock, Knock, knock!" Michael supplied the sound effects.

"And the farmer comes to the door. The soldier says: 'I need a place to sleep tonight.' and the farmer says: 'I haven't got any room in the house, but you can sleep in the barn with my pet gorilla'."

"A gorilla" Michael shrieked with laughter.

"Yeah, and so the soldier goes out to the barn and makes friends with the gorilla; and then another soldier comes along and the farmer tells him to go out to the barn, so he goes out to the barn too. Then about an hour later, a socialator* comes along 3;"

Brian paused and grinned, "and she has a great set of tits! The farmer's eyes pop right out of his head they are so good. But his wife is right there, so she can't come in. Instead the farmer tells her to go out to the barn with these two soldiers and his pet.

"So time passes, and pretty soon it's morning. The first soldier comes out, and he's real happy 3; looks like he's had a good time. And then the second soldier comes out, and he looks real good, and rested, and like he's had a good time.

"Then about a half hour later, the socialator comes out, except she's all beat up, her dress is tore and her hair's a mess 3; she goes out to the road, and one of her friends comes by in a pink pimpmobile. 'Why, what happened to you?' " Brian said in a high, squeaky falsetto voice.

"So the socialator stops," he continued after catching his breath, "And leans on the door of the pimpmobile. She says: 'Boy, I had a wild night! One guy gave me 15 Solars and five inches [12½ cm]; another gave me 10 solars and eight inches [20 cm] 3; and one big hairy son of a bitch gave me eighteen inches [45 cm] and a banana! ' "

Instantly, all the kids, except Michael burst into laughter.

"I don't understand. Eighteen inches [45 cm] of what?" Michael asked.

Grinning a still half laughing, Corey said: "His dick, Michael, his dick! The gorilla stuck her with eighteen inches [45 cm] of dick, AND gave her a banana!"

Michael still looked puzzled for a moment, but then a knowing grin spread over his face. "Oo-ooohh!"

The gamblers, who had all been paying too much attention to Brian's story to do much with their cards, now began to consult their cards in earnest.

"I'll stick," Corey said, trying to keep the joy from registering in his eyes as he looked at the five diamonds in his hand. After a lot of reshuffling, and dealing cards around, it developed that Corey's flush was indeed the winning hand. The rest of the kids took off an article of clothing and threw it into the mound of clothing on the sofa bed.

"Lets start a new rule," said Brian, as he flopped down on his tummy, "The winner has to tell the next joke! "

"Okay," Corey said, accepting the challenge. I've got one. There was this fisherman once who cast his net out and hauled it in with no fish in the net. He was about to throw it back into the water, when he saw an Aladdin's Lamp in the net."

"Huh? What's that?" Asked Douglas.

"You know," Wesley said with an air of authority. "Remember that really old, ancient 'movie' we saw at the solidio?"

"You mean that thing on the flat screen?"

"Yeah. The Golden Voyage of Sinbad. Well, there was an Aladdin's Lamp in that, it's where a jinn lives."

"Oh, yeah," Douglas said, trying to cover up that he really had no idea of what a jinn was – from watching the 'movie' they appeared to be some kind of ghost monster who were forced to live in jars and such.

"Anyway, the fisherman takes the lamp out and rubs it three times, and -poof- out pops a jinn. The jinn says that the fisherman can have three wishes, but what ever he wishes for, his boss will get twice as much. So the fisherman makes his first wish: 'I wish I had a million stellars*!' and the jinn says, 'It is done, oh Master, your bank card now has a million stellars credited to it; and your boss got two million.' So the fisherman takes out his bank card and keys the balance, and sure enough, there's a million stellars. So the fisherman says: 'for my next wish, I want to have a brand new boat.' and poof, it happens, and the jinn says: 'that was your second wish, oh Master, what is your third wish, and remember, your boss will get twice what you do.' The fisherman grins and says: 'I want to be beaten half to death!' "

The laughter which floated out over the vast cavernous main floor of the UTC building was echoed and reechoed back again as the serious business of determining who would win the next hand got under way. The next big winner, with a five aces hand, was Bobby Running Deer. For his joke, he stood up and took a deep bow. "There was this Amerind kid once who went to his father and asked: 'Father, how did I get my name?' and the old chief looked very solemn 3; like this –" and Bobby made a face like what he thought a solemn face was.

It caused the others to burst out laughing at once.

"And the old chief said, in a very deep voice: 'My son, when your older sister was born, I was very proud, and went to sit in council and tell the other men of my pride in my first born. Among our people, it is the tradition to 3;" Here Bobby had to pause to breathe before continuing in his artificially basso-profundo voice. " 3;'name a child after the first thing that the father sees upon leaving the lodge on the day of the birth. This is why your sister is called Morning Star; and also why your brother is Walking Bear'."

Again Bobby paused and grinned at the circle of youngsters before he said: "'Do you have any OTHER questions, Two-Dogs-Fucking?'"

The poker hand itself was hotly disputed.

"You said a strait flush beat anything but five of a kind," Michael pouted.

"It does," said Douglas, patiently laying down his four nines and the carpet. "But a strait flush means the cards have to be in order."

"Like 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 3; all of the same kind," Bobby offered.

"Or Ace, King Queen, Jack, Ten," said Brian, "that's a Royal Flush."

"Yeah," Michael said slowly. "But look't, I almost got it 3; I got Ace, King, Queen, Jack, Eight 3; and all clubs."

"Almost only counts with hydrogen bombs," Wesley said.

"It must be something," Michael said.

"It is," Corey said, "It's a flush 3;"

"But you guys just said it had to be in order 3;"

"A strait flush does," said Corey patiently. "But a plain flush, like you've got, only has to have all five cards the same kind. But Doug's got four of a kind, that comes between a flush and a strait flush."

"Oh," said Michael in a small voice; still not sure that the older boys were not cheating.

"A strait flush beats four of a kind, and four of a kind beats a flush 3; a plain flush." Wesley said

"Okay," Michael said. "That means that Douglas has got to tell the next joke. "

"Hmmmn," Douglas said, stroking an imaginary goatee, like Commander X's. "Here's one," he said as Michael picked up the cards and started to deal. No one corrected this error in gambling procedure; they knew that was what Michael liked about winning, dealing the next hand.

"There was this flood in the Brekka Valley*," Douglas began as the others settled in to listen to him, "And everyone was evacuating because the water was getting higher and higher. Everyone had left, except this one Christian 3;"

"Ugh," Michael paused in dealing the cards, "I'm afraid of them, they're mean. "

"Yeah, always talking about how Jesus is going to send everyone to hell, especially the kids," Wesley shivered and snatched up his cards to blot out the visions of fire and brimstone that old lady Huffnaggle had told him was waiting for all bad little boys when they died. There was no hope for Wesley, he knew in his heart that he was a bad little boy. He enjoyed it, and if the Christians were right, undoubtedly he would go to hell.

"They're not all like that," Bobby said. "Just the kooks, the 3; what're they called? fundamentalist vigilantes or something?"

"The Puritan Fundamentalist Christian Full Gospel Vigilante Committee*," supplied Wesley. Old Lady Huffnaggel was a card carrying member. "They're all grups!" he snarled. "They don't have any kids in it, I think they eat kids."

"Anyway, not all Christians are like that. I don't think they're real Christians anyway. My grandma had a Christian bible 3; we used to be Lutherans, before my family went back to the real religion a long time ago," Bobby said. "And it didn't say anything about all the kids going to hell. Go on with the joke, Douglas."

"Okay, anyway, this Christian doesn't evacuate, and pretty soon the water gets so high he has to go up on the roof and sit. A guy in a boat comes along and asks if he wants a lift, and the Christian says: 'No, brother. My faith is in Jesus.' So the boat goes on 3;"

"That was dumb of him," muttered Michael and leaned against Wesley.

"So pretty soon, the water is so high, he has to stand up, and the water is around his knees. Another boat comes along and asks if he needs help, and the Christian asks them what they mean 3; he KNOWS Jesus is coming to save him. And finally the water is up around his neck, and he's standing on tiptoes about to drowned. A Defense Forces flitter* comes by and throws the guy a rope, but he won't take it.

"'My faith is STILL in Jesus!' he said. So finally the water goes up over his head and he drowns and goes to heaven. He's just going through the Pearly Gates when he sees Jesus. So he walks over to him, and he's really mad. He starts to yell: 'I had faith in you and you let me die!' And so Jesus turns to him and says: "I sent you two boats and a flitter, what more do you want?' "

Michael won the hand that he had dealt, thus causing some eyebrows to raise, but nothing was said officially. The other boys shed an article of clothing and tossed it into the by now quite sizable pile of children's clothing on the sofa. In Brian's case, he was left with only his underpants between him and the loss of the game.

"Okay, what's your joke, Michael?" Douglas asked.

"I gotta Amerind joke too, is that okay, Bobby?" the younger boy asked.

"Yeah," the Modoc boy said. "Why not 3;?"

"Okay. Well one day, Tonto and the Lone Ranger were riding along and they came to a box canyon. And so the rode in. Suddenly, all around them, a lot of Indians charged them. They fought for awhile from behind a rock, but it looked like the end. And so the Lone Ranger turned to Tonto and said: 'Well, ole friend, it looks like we're done for!' and Tonto said: 'what you mean we whiteman?' "

And again the room filled with uninhibited laughter.

"Wait, wait, you guys. I got another one!" Michael shouted, encouraged by the laughter that his joke had elicited from the older boys.

"Why did the Lone Ranger shoot Tonto?"

"Okay, why?" asked Corey.

"Because he found out that 'Kemosabe' meant 'chicken-shit' in Cheyenne!"

After the laughter had subsided some, Bobby gathered up the cards and handed them to Michael, who enthusiastically began to show off his newly acquired ability to casino shuffle cards. The sixth hand was won by Brian, with four queens, narrowly beating out Corey's four fives. Again everyone removed an article of clothing. When it came to Wesley's turn to shed his pants, he stood up and slowly began to unzip his zipper while whistling the 'stripper's theme'. As he slid his pants down over his slim hips, the others cheered, whistled and shouted loud catcalls. He flung the pants over in the general direction of the sofa and sat down again in only his underpants.

"Here's a joke that one of the big kids at school told me," Brian said as he stood up and took a bow. "Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson were taking walk in the park, when the came to three women eating bananas on a park bench. 'Good morning, ladies' said Sherlock Holmes. 'Did you know them?' asked Dr. Watson. "No, but I do know that one was a nun, one a socialator, and one a newly wed.' "

"What?" Douglas said, "How could he possibly know that?"

"Maybe he was psychic." Offered Corey.

"NO, wait a minute, you guys, the joke tells the rest of it," Brian said." So Sherlock Holmes says: 'The nun ate the banana by holding it in one hand and using the fingers of her other hand to break off pieces. The socialator grabbed it with both hands and crammed the whole thing into her mouth, and the newlywed held it in one hand and pushed her head toward it with the other. "

"Haw!" Bobby let out a horse laugh. "That's a good one!"

Corey and Michael looked puzzled and shrugged their shoulders. Wesley and Douglas each looked rather uncomfortable.

"Don't you get it" asked Brian, rather abashed that his joke had not gone over as well as the ones in the past.

"Uh-uh." Michael immediately said.

"They're talking about giving head." Wesley said in a subdued voice.

"What's that?"

"Sucking a guys dick 3; that's what the banana stuff was about."

"I had a guy suck my dick once," Bobby said, "It wasn't so bad."

"Yeah," Douglas said, "But then he might have made you suck his dick 3; and maybe cummed in your mouth."

"UGH!!" Bobby made a face. "That's what they do to kids that they take to Beth-el Azar. Moochie told me."

"Aww, that's not real," Brian said, in a not too certain tone of voice. All the kids of Casa Alto knew of Lord Rhomburr and the brothels in the deserts, but few if any ever returned from Beth-el Azar, and so the tales grew.

"Oh yes it is," Wesley said, "Just like they used to kill kids at Springfield before the Bombardment."

"How do you know?" asked Michael, wide eyed.

"I know! " Wesley said with confidence that did not invite disbelief.

"They used to take people out there, even kids our age and younger, and then strip them naked and shoot them with lasers, or maybe chop off their heads."

"Michael rubbed his skinny little neck and said: "I'll bet that hurts 3; to have your head chopped off. I'd rather be shot."

"Not me!" Brian exclaimed. "My uncle was shot with a laser once. He said it hurt worse than getting kicked in the balls!" Brian began to deal the cards for what promised to be the last hand, because four of the six boys were down to their underpants.

"Geeze! I've got garbage," Corey said, "Can I get five cards?"

"No," grinned Brian, only four, and only if you've got an ace."

"Frak! Then I'll take the four."

Brian dealt the cards and turned to Douglas.

"Three for me."

"Hey you guys," Michael said suddenly, "Let's go to Springfield to explore."

"Want to?" Asked Corey.

"Are you two koo-koo" asked Bobby. "Remember all those kids who were tortured and killed there just has to be a lots of spirits there. Moochie says it's bad medicine to mess around with the pirits."

"Yeah," Wesley said slowly. "But they were mostly kids like us, I'll bet that if there ARE kid's ghosts there they'd be lonesome and be glad to see us. "

"Aww, Kristy says there are no ghosts, not really."

"I don't know about that 3;" Douglas began.

"If we do go," Bobby said, still unsure of how wise an idea the whole thing was, "we'd better get one of the big kids to go with us 3; just in case."

"Ya know something?" Michael asked rhetorically as he snuggled next to Corey.

"What?" Corey asked, gently squeezing Michael's shoulders.

"I really LOVE you guys 3; I mean we're like brothers, all of us, aren't we?

"Sure we are, Michael," Douglas said.

"I mean, well 3; I guess 3;" He paused and looked up at Corey, love and trust filling his electric blue eyes, "It's always been just Kristy and me, since the Before Time, I mean. She's okay, and I love her 3; but she's a GIRL. It's not the same as having a brother."

He squirmed around and threw his arms wide and caught Bobby, Corey and Wesley in a bear hug. The others automatically joined in. "I love you." Michael said.

"You know," Douglas said, "We are like brothers 3; of course Wesley and Brian live with their parents, but at least we're like cousins, and that's almost like being brothers."

"Hey!" Bobby said and sat up suddenly, "Let's be blood brothers."

"You mean like the Indians"

"Yes," exclaimed Bobby.

"You're an Amerind, Bobby," Douglas began. "Do you know the right spells and rituals*?"

"Well 3;" Bobby began, "Not exactly, but I'll bet Moochie does!"

"Yeah," the others exclaimed, "Moochie will know the right spells."

"Let's ask Moochie."

From the doorway came a quiet voice, "Ask me what?"

All six boys squirmed and struggled to undo themselves from the knot of other kid's arms and legs.

"Michael!" Kristy Pasce said. "Have you nasty little boys been playing strip poker?"

Michael looked up at his slim nine-year-old sister, "Yeah," he said matter of factly, "I guess we have."

The little boys all scrambled for their clothes as eleven-year-old Moochie Running Deer sat down cross- legged in front of the others.

"Now," he said, "Ask me what?"

"Wow," sighed Wesley, "You sure scared me," he said. "I thought it was my mom. I'm not suppose to come here."

"What are you guys doing here anyway?" asked Kristy, glaring directly at Michael. "You know the rules about going off alone."

"Aww, Kristy, this is our clubhouse," Michael protested.

"Yeah," added Bobby. "You big kids have a clubhouse, why can't WE have a club house? It's safe here, even the micro-kids* would be safe here."

Moochie paused and looked around at the other younger boys. Outside the club house, the sounds of other kids were slowly climbing the decibel scale. By noon, the UTC building would have over a hundred kids playing in at least a dozen different groups, all dedicated to the premise "There is no tomorrow."

"Ya know, Kristy, they're right 3; and it's not like they were roaming the streets or something, like a pack of wild kids."

"But, Moochie 3; they 3;" Kristy began, she was very protective of her little brother, a left over from the Bombardment almost three years ago when a jut turned six-year-old had suddenly found herself responsible for herself and her baby brother in a battlefield situation. This was at times a source of embarrassment to Michael, but it also felt good to know that his big sister [who Michael worshipped] was still looking out for him.

"Kristy," Moochie said and put an arm around her shoulders, "They've started to grow up – they've not micro-kids any longer. They want to explore and push back the boundaries of their world – just as we did when we were little. "

"Yeah, but 3;" Kristy protested weakly, even though she knew that Moochie was right.

"In fact," Moochie said slowly, "They might even be old enough to go through the Ordeal."

The younger kids sat in strict silence while Moochie's words sank in. Each of them knew what the Ordeal signified, the end of a long initiation rite into the local 'real' gang – the Checkerboard Kids. The initiation rites were designed to test a candidate's resourcefulness and ability to remain calm in a crisis situation under stress. One portion of the Ordeal called for the candidate to demonstrate bravery above and beyond the normal required for living life in a postwar world ruled by organized crime, Lord Rhombiirr and his brothels and the mercenary cops. The form of this bravery test was left up to the individual, and had to be witnessed by two other members of the gang. Another portion of the ordeal, also to be witnessed by two 'monitors' involved acquiring something that would be useful to the club as a whole. Each kid had to select and then obtain the object on his/her own, in any way short of purchasing the object, since the mere purchasing of an object would not test the qualities that the Checker-Board Kids were attempting to measure, the purchase of an item was strictly forbidden and would result in the disqualification of the candidate.

Until quite recently, the older kids (12-15) had always insisted that a candidate be at least ten to try, but at the last Grand Council, a faction led by Councilor Running Deer (Moochie) had succeeded in lowering this to nine.

"When?" the younger boys shouted excitedly.

"I'm going to propose it tonight, I think I've got the votes. I've always thought that if a kid could pass initiation, then we should let 'im in, even if he's only three!"

"Hooray!" the younger boys shouted together.

"But remember," Moochie said seriously, "You won't get any special favors because you're mini-kids. You'll have to pass the initiation and go through the Ordeal 3; the same as anyone else."

"Moochie," Bobby said, looking up at his older brother, "We kids want to go exploring out at Springfield!"

"Springfield 3;" Moochie said softly.

"Yeah, we want you and Kristy, and maybe some more big kids to go with us. You guys know more magic than we do 3; and there might be ghost monsters."

"That would certainly satisfy the bravery portion of the Ordeal. I can't remember ANYONE ever going to Springfield of their own will. And we'd best find someone who's armed to go along. Ghost Monsters aren't the only thing to be afraid of out there."

"Huh?" Bobby asked, "What do you mean?"

"That's STILL a dangerous place of kids," Kristy said. "We learned about it in urban geography. When they closed it down, a lot of bums and chingadarahs* moved in. They probably won't like us poking around, and they MIGHT turn out to be jacks."

Moochie looked thoughtfully at his little brother and the others, "Okay," he finally said. "You guys can start thinking on your projects for the Ordeal, and we'll go out to Springfield in two weeks."

"Yahoo!" The younger kids shouted.

Moochie and Kristy looked at each other, each with a tiny premonition of hard times ahead, and maybe disaster at the Springfield compound.

The End ??

FUTURE SHOCK NOTES

Glossary for STRIP POKER

1. Before Time, The. (Childhood slang).
Refers to that long ago lost golden age before the world went crazy: before the war 3; before all the people that they loved were killed 3; before (fill in the blank.)

2. Beth-el Azar.
It is said that you can buy anything in Casa Alto, if you have enough money. All forms of vice are available, from gambling and getting high to prostitute and slavery. Beth-el Azar is a tiny village com- pound out in the Jutland Waste that is owned by Lord Rhomburr and which caters to all forms of kiddie-porn and child prostitution.

3. Bombardment, The.
During the Third Intersystem War, the planet Tarsus was attacked by the Rebels and almost totally destroyed before being driven off by units of the Star Fleet. This episode, three years ago is referred to by the local Tarsan's as the 'Bombardment'.

4. Brekka Valley.
On post-bombardment Tarsus, the Brekka Valley is one of the world's bread baskets; growing 45 to 50% of all the food grown on the planet. It is located to the west of Casa Alto and south of the Carpathian Mountains. 5. CAPD (Casa Alto Police Department).

After the Bombardment, the civilian government collapsed and left the average citizen to take care of himself. The CAPD became a freelance mercenary outfit, supplying protection to those who could afford it. They became in effect a private army of the rich.

6. Chingadara (CHING'-gah-dare-ah, n. Neo-hispanic slang. )
Literally a 'thing' It is sometimes used to refer to a non-humanoid XT in a derogatory way.

7. Delos Megaconstruction Corporation.
The Bombardment destroyed over 90% of Tarsus's infrastructure. Delos is one of the only surviving Tarsus construction firms that is capable of handling the re- construction of the planet. Several off-world corporations are also involved with the rebuilding of the infrastructure.

8. Durra-Steel.
An alloy which much greater tensile strength and greater elasticity than normal construction grade steel.

9. Dominator.
A dominator is a kind of psychic-power individual who can influence or outright control the thoughts and 'freewill' of another individual.

10. Flitter.
A Flitter is roughly a combination of a helicopter and a car, some models even look like a helicopter, using a rotary wing to stay aloft, but much more common is the type that uses a .controlled counter-gravity field to supply lift and a turbofan engine for thrust. [see: Jetcar, Jet Truck]

11. Foam Steel.
A high grade of construction material which resembles steel, and with the added ability of being liquefied at room temperature. Foam Steel can then be spayed into a mold or area, and when it is treated with several chemicals, it reverts to the crystalline structure of steel.

12. Ghost Monsters. (Childhood mythology).
Demons in the employ of Zama Khan, and who were dispatched to the physical plane specifically to steal the souls of children – who then became the slaves of Zama Khan.

13. Gremlins (Childhood mythology).
Small humanoid beings that are primarily engaged in making sure bridges don't fall, that the doors to bedroom closets are secure against ghost monsters, and a host of other 'helper' chores.

14. Grup (slang).
The word 'grup' is a bastardization of the term 'grown-up'. It is childhood slang, and a swear word. To call an adult a grup is akin to calling a child a 'brat', except that there is no 'affectionate' way to use 'grup' as an older brother or sister might refer to a little brother or sister as a 'brat' affectionatly.

15. Hootchie Kootchie Klub.
A night club owned by the Casa Alto Syndicate, and affiliated with NAMBLA and BLI {Boy Lovers Interstellar} where several of the autonomous kids in my stories work, as busboys, entertainers, messengers, errant runners, etc. It is a combination speak-easy and casino catering to the up-scale interstellar pedophyle..

16. Indian Summer.
Because Tarsus is a member of another planetary system, and circles a brown dwarf (Awesome) instead of the primary of the star system (70 Ophiuchi), the seasons are quite different from those on Earth. Taking the Spring equinox as the beginning point, the seasons on Tarsus are: Spring, Summer, High Summer, Autumn, Fall, Winter, and High Winter. During some years there are Summers that are especially cold, these are called 'Fimmblewinter' (or winter in summer); and some winters that are especially warm (Indian Summer). Tarsus's year is 2.1 years long (767 days) long. The seasons on Tarsus also respond to an 87 year cycle of the second star in the system (70 Ophiuchi B).

17. Jacks (slang).
Short for 'Jackal'. Jackals are the lowest form of pond scum. They work for Lord Rhomburr and Beth-el Azar to procure children for use in the brothels and kiddie-porn studios. Usually these unlucky kids come from the millions of homeless children on the .streets of Casa Alto, but there are documented cases of kidnapping rings run by Jacks.

18. Jetcar, Jet Truck.
A special case flitter. Jetcars are the 'unit' of personal transportation on Tarsus. They are powered by small fusion fuel cells that supply electricity to he vehicle. Lift is acomplished with a small dedicated counter-gravity generator and thrust is supplied by one or sometimes two turbofan engines. Theoretically they have no 'ceiling', but in practical operations, most jetcars are limited to under 100 meters [300 ft] in altitude and less than 1,000 km hr-1 [600 mph]. Jet Trucks are larger, cargo versions of the above. They range in lifting capacity from 3/4 ton to well over 100 tons.

19. Kafers.
An alien race hostile to the Federation and with whom the Federation fought a series of boarder conflicts and wars just beyond the Arcturus Warp Gate in the period 2295-2320.

20. Mentalt.
A Mentalt is a MENtal TALenT. Mentalts were called mutants in the 20th century on earth II, and that term is sometimes also used in the 24th century, but it is not accepted in polite society (see: Mutie). Mentalts are compared against each other in the overall potency of the effects their minds can produce in the environment on the 'T-Scale' developed in the 22nd century by the Psychology Service. T-O is 'normal' for non-Talented individuals, with the scale continuing both positive and negative from there. The scale is logarithmic and essentially open ended. Although it was designed for use with humans, it is often used to compare Mentalts of differing specesis also.

21. Microkids.
The kids of Tarsus have arranged themselves into informal 'castes' which are based upon an individual's age and educational achievements. The designations refer to both boys and girls.

22. Mutie. (slang, derogatory.)
Akin to 'nigger' and 'kike'. It refers to a mutant, or Mentalt. Another acceptable term, enhanced-power being, is preferred in some circles within Federation culture.

23. Phase III Examinations.
Education in this future world is much more complex, the sheer volume of data to be absorbed has rendered traditional education obsolete, Instead, an electromagnetic forcefield is used to 'etch' memory pathways in the brain. Education then became fitting this instant memory into a coherent world picture.

25. Puritan Fundamentalist Christian Full Gospel Vigilante Committee.
A splinter group of the Christian evangelical church. It's main tenet is 'If it feels good, it MUST be sinful'. They are totally opposed to all forms of the current human civilization, which they call Secular Humanists as a class.

26. Rituals and Spells.
The kids of Tarsus are a superstitious lot, but in a funny, childhood kind of way that does not visibly impede their educations. As a result while 'knowing' that monsters are not real, the kids of Tarsus never the less believe in magic and the ability of humans to influence the surrounding environments by the application of spells and rituals designed to seek the aid of elemental spirits, akin to Gaia, Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, etc. Soon enough, kids 'get over' this phase [normally from ? to about 10 or 11] of believing in magic. The kids of Tarsus have their own rich mythology drawn from all the mythologies of old earth, several dozen alien mythologies and some home-brew creations. It should not surprise the reader to learn that on the planet Tarsus there are childhood magic spells to help with everything from homework to keeping the closet door securely closed all night and cleaning one's room.

27. Socialator.
A Call-girl. (Reference: Battlestar Galactica).

28. Springfield.
A state concentration camp akin to Buchenwald, where the leaders of Tarsan politics sent those they wanted to make disappear – for good. In the unsettled periods of the Interregnum following the collapse of the Terran Theological Tyranny in the 22nd century and during the Clone Wars, Springfield was the last stop for tens of millions of men, women and children.

29. Star Dates.
The Star Date system used in The Star Nomad Chronicles is the same one developed for use with the FASA Star Trek Role Playing Game. The Star Date contains four fields, three of which [the year, month and day] are commonly stated and one [the century] is assumed. The current date, May 14, 1994 would be written as -1/9405.14 -- with the century field (cc) first, then the year (yy), month (mm), and day (dd)
format = cc / yy mm.dd

30. Stellars.
The Stellar is the unit of interstellar monetary exchange. One Stellar is arbitrarily set as being valued at $364.00 – the value of one troy ounce of 99.99% pure 24-karat gold on April 10, 1989. The symbol $ is used to denote Stellars; while 's' is used to denote Solars. A Stellar contains 20 Solars, each worth approximately eighteen dollars.

31. Thermofax.
Every life form in the galaxy is endowed with a distinctive psychic aura, which in turn has an individual electromagnetic 'signature'. This thermofax has replaced the older retinal scan, and truly ancient fingerprinting, as the standard of identification.

32. Treaty of 103rd Street.
After the collapse of the civil government, a bloody civil war was fought in Casa Alto. On one side were the urban poor, the youth gangs, some segments of organized crime and most of the homeless; on the other side were the remnants of civilized society and the rich in unholy alliance with the now marooned Rebel ground forces under the command of Brigadier General [Lord] Harkonen Rhomburr. The battles fought were fast and indecisive. In November, 2389; the war sputtered out, and an armistice was established. 103rd Street was established as a 'boundary' zone between the two segments. There have been several minor skirmishes along this boarder over the treaty boundary.

33. Triad.
An advanced three dimensional 'virtual reality' game. Players are connected to the game by means of the same kinds of electromagnetic forcefields used in the psychobriefer educational terminal. This causes the player to experience the game in 'real' time. (Reference TRON, Virtual Reality).

34. Tri-Dee.
A three-dimensional video display which can be connected to a wide variety of input devices, just as a modern television can be. The Tri-Dee in it's most advanced versions also uses computer generated 'virtual realities' to allow a viewer to interact with the drama being viewed.

35. Tubeway.
A planet wide transportation network using maglev trains. More than 88% was destroyed in the Bombardment, but the surviving 12% covers an area of 490,000 square miles [1,270,000 km²] in and around the capitol of Casa Alto.

36. Veep (slang.)
Phonetic pronunciation of VIP or Very Important Person. The tone of voice reveals if this is sarcasm or used with deference to an 'actual' Veep.

37. Wild Kids.
A generic term used to refer to the hundreds of thousands of children on the streets of Casa Alto who are living on their own, without direct adult supervision. Most wild kids are members of the hundred + juvenile gangs in and around the city.

END OF STORY 7-17-98