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April 2016 Fanfic Challenge
Edited by Travisina on 01 April 2016 20:16:15
Spaceship Dispatcher
Reversing the polarity of the neutron flow. I bet that means something. It sounds great.

Blake's 7: Trojan Horse (s4 fanfic) - Blake's 7: Through the Needle's Eye (s2 fanfic)

Spaceship Dispatcher's fanfic site
Good Morning!

Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
Thank you for your patience. Our engineers are busy working on the problem...

Now if they would only perfect cloning, create a time machine and solve the problems of parenting teenage rebels, I might get around to the important things in life like Blakes 7.

So finally:
Spring comes into its own in April but this time also heralds the beginning of a new financial year and the dreaded tax return (guess what I've been doing!)

April's word prompt is ... TAX

A compulsory contribution to state revenue, a tithe or levy, or to make heavy demands on someone or to confront a person with their faults or wrongdoings.

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

So begins the infamous example of purple prose, much mocked and parodied. The second challenge is to use this opening for a B7 fanfic - and you can get as purple as you like!
Ooh Fiendish prompts! I have some ideas but most are X rated. Back to the think tank!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Anniew wrote:

Ooh Fiendish prompts! I have some ideas but most are X rated. Back to the think tank!

Anniew. I cannot believe that a nice person such as you can have such ideas!!! Grin
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!

sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
Well here's the first. ( From the nicer half of my imagination Sue! ) Now on with the child care!

Sometimes Servalan remembered her father. Those nights when she couldn't sleep and he'd come to see what was the matter.

"Tell me a story, Daddy," she'd beg.

He'd smile.

"Listen carefully, Little Princess."

His voice would take on a mysterious register and he would begin:

"It was a dark and stormy night. A group of brave Space Captains sat round the old port replicator waiting for the order to 'scramble' and their leader said,

"Youngest, tell us a story."

The lightening flashed, thunder cracked and roared and the youngest pilot cleared his throat and began.

"It was a dark and stormy night. A group of brave....."


It had been a dark and stormy night when they'd brought the news that his ship had been destroyed in the fight to subdue Sardos,

Dark and stormy when her mother finally gave up the fight to live without him and slipped away gratefully leaving her daughter to the indifferent care of the State.

Dark and stormy when Don Keller had told her that he was not prepared to be the trophy consort to her rising star.

The storm on Gauda Prime was one of the worst the planet had experienced. White tongues of flame licked and spat and thunder blasted the night with long percussive explosions. But picking her way delicately past the bodies of the dead, Servalan remained untroubled. Even passing the body of a dead lover did not disturb her, or meeting the dying, dark and stormy gaze of the man she had hounded and manipulated and driven to this death.

For her that was just another telling of an old, old story.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Angry Angel
Clever! You managed to fit a lot of emotional ideas into a very short space.
So beautiful...................
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!

sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
@Annie: Excellent ... and so sad!
The first April stories are coming in, and I still have to catch up with the March threads! But the new prompt already got me thinking ... so I'll give you a piece of hopefully not-so-purple prose:

A Matter of Perspective

It was a dark and stormy night – or was it? After all, ‘dark’ and ‘stormy’ are just ... words. What I see in your memories looks dark and stormy for me, but did you really experience the same gloom and tempestuous wrath that I would have felt? There is no night on my home planet, Zondar. Nights are always dark for me. I can see in your memories that this strange orb that you call ‘moon’ was shining . Maybe it was actually a surprisingly bright night for you. As for the storm, with no night and day on Zondar, the temperature does not vary much, and thus there is never much wind. Was the storm that I feel when I read your memories really a storm or just a light breeze?

We helped you to fight an evil entity, and I like to feel your presence, Cally. I sing for you to show you how much I appreciate your company. But we will never fully understand each other. Even simple words like ‘dark’ and ‘stormy’ have a completely different meaning for us. You took me with you because your human companions do not understand your Auron ways, while I have at least telepathic powers. But it is not possible for us to communicate.

You are still alone.
Can we have a tissues rating please?
Having read Anniew's story and now Hugbot's....
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!

sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
Clever, Huggy, very clever.

I admire your ability to tell so much story in so few words. Very Ray Bradbury.
Thank you all for lovely comments and Hugbot for another great story.

Here's one I made earlier and it fits the prompt! ( well with the addition of a key word!) Hope you enjoy it too.

The headache was low-level but persistent. He thought it might be caused by eye strain and resigned himself to a life-time of pain suppressors - unless Orac and Avon could be persuaded to come up with a technical solution - something he thought unlikely.

And then a recurring dream, strange, yet familiar, began to disturb his sleep and further tax his control.

Night after night, he found himself standing on the shores of a frozen lake. Snow had fallen recently. A coverlet of white unrolled into the distance, merging with the sky: an infinity of white, timeless and still. All seemed peaceful, silent and yet he knew that under the ice-shell, nameless beasts snarled and snapped.

Now a woman joined him, her face calm, unworried. She met his eyes and knelt, tenderly placing her hands on the frozen surface. The beasts sank back into the depths.

Light on the snow threw waving lines across the stark landscape. The air shivered. The woman was ill. If he didn't reach the Governor she might die. Frantic he tried to push his way through but an Enforcer stopped him, raising a gun. The beasts snarled, splintering ice with their claws. She cried out, his woman; tried to intervene. Then she was falling, falling in a graceless heap, her dress riding up exposing lumpy white thighs. Her hands scrabbled for a moment at the red hole in her breast, clenched and relaxed. He noticed briefly how worn they were, those hands; their skin raw and cracked.

With a roar the beasts broke from the ice, teeth and claws slashing and he commanded them to tear their way into his heart. Effortlessly he tossed the gun aside, took the neck of the Enforcer in purposeful hands and started to squeeze slowly. As he pressed, the face clenched between his iron fingers changed. His mother, eyes bulging, stared imploringly but he remembered her contempt as she ordered him and his woman to leave and pressed harder. The tongue protruded, the struggling weakened and the face of his father, swollen and brutish now as any of those, like Gan, who were forced to scratch a miserable existence in the shanty hovels on the edge of town, turned red, then puce and finally blue.

Why his father used the authority of his position to demand the lesser punishment, he never discovered but, because of his intervention, Gan received a life sentence on a penal colony and a limiter that would tether the beasts. He had known as he travelled on the transporter to the ship that would take him to Cygnus Alpha that she deserved more, the woman who had helped him control his rage with her love but he could no longer remember the feeling or shape of his grief.

Waking from the dream, headache worsening, he realised that it was not just physical pain that was hurting him.

Slowly the beasts were rousing and demanding that he act.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Sorry this is well over the 500 - hope that is OK.

It was a dark and stormy night, one when primeval tensions strained and shook at breaking point and screamed their anger into the power of the wind. The roar of descending engines was no match for it. This was a night when anything might happen, in a place where almost everything had.

The mutoid rose from her seat, ungainly but steady, the grace she had once been capable of sacrificed to power. With the same inelegant competence she crossed the small flight deck and leaned across to unfasten the straps that held an unprepossessing box securely in its tray. The communication between them, though real, was silent to any listener, but in response to a peremptory command she tucked the box securely under her arm and strode towards the hatch.

Neither the mutoid nor the box was bothered by the banshee wail of the wind, or by the ice crystals that were starting to ride its gusts. In response to another command the mutoid turned towards the specified direction and began to walk.

A mile on she reached the appointed spot, placed the box on the ground and waited. When the box was satisfied with whatever it was scanning she followed the command to release the door, then tucking her burden under her arm again she silently began the climb down into the dark.

In a room at the end of a corridor a man was waiting, a man the mutoid recognised though she could not have said why even if she had been asked. Has she been capable of surprise she would have been astonished to see him. In response to another silent command she put the box onto a table and stood back into the shadows.

The man took no notice of her but came forward and put his hands on the box and for the first time in several years it heard itself named by a human voice.
For the first time in those years it activated its voice circuits and responded.
“How did you know I would be here?”
“The nature of Terminal is such that you were bound to be here eventually. That you would know yourself was less certain, though I took certain measures to increase the probability.”
The man smiled a slow and appreciative smile,
“Your measures worked.”
“I have observed as much.”
Avon’s smile widened and he inclined his head slightly,
“Naturally.” The smiled dimmed, “So why have you come? Not for the dubious pleasure of our re-acquaintance I’m sure”
The box was silent for a moment as if considering its reply, though in reality is was merely confirming that its last assessment remained valid.
“You are needed.”

His brows rose slightly,
“Am I, by whom? You?”
Another short silence followed by an impatient response.
“Whilst it is in my interests that you return, it is not correct to say that I need you.”
“Of course not” There was a strong hint of irony in Avon’s voice. “Then who does and why do you care enough to seek me out for them?”
“Blake and Jenna. Without your assistance the probability is that all the settled worlds will be annihilated by a particularly brutal invader. Blake won his war but they cannot win this one without your help.”

Avon’s brows rose and the words came slowly.
“Can’t my …. ‘other’ self help them?”
Another short silence, before a response that seemed to come slower than usual.
“He is dead, as I think you know. He died nearly a decade ago on a planet called Guada Prime.”
Avon straightened up and the mutoid in the shadows shifted slightly as if reaching for a weapon.
He nodded his eyes narrowed and cold.
“Yes I thought as much. Why then should I help them?”
Orac would have shrugged if it could,
“The only alternative is to remain here, a hostage to the vagaries of what this world produces next; or death should the invaders come across it.”

There was silence for a moment then the man called Avon sighed,
“Yes. There is nothing for me on Terminal.” He smiled, “and a poor outcome if they find you I assume?”
“It is true that they are not of a nature to appreciate my unique qualities. Their creed would not allow my continued existence should they find me.”
“And if they win there may be no where to hide?” Avon’s voice was soft.

Orac ignored the remark, instead returning to its own objective.
“So you will come.”
Avon looked around the room for a moment then up towards a screen that showed the current turmoil of Terminal.
“Yes I will come.” He reached out for a dark jacket that lay across a chair.
“Who knows, I might even get to save the universe, Blake, and level the score with Servalan at the same time.”
Orac sent another command to the mutoid and she came forward to pick him up. Avon turned to tell her to leave it then stopped, statue still and eyes widening

Orac seemed to sense his shock and for once spoke the obvious.
“I think you will find that score has been struck out”
Angry Angel
Hugbot, Anniew and peldon, I really enjoyed all your stories. Thank you!
That's good to hear AA!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Angry Angel wrote:

Hugbot, Anniew and peldon, I really enjoyed all your stories. Thank you!

Glad you enjoyed it.
At last I am catching up ...

@Anniew: Two brilliant stories (as usual), the first one a rollercoaster ride, funny at first and then turning into something intensely bleak (proper B7!); the second with fascinating imagery of Gan's tortured soul. I thoroughly enjoyed that.

@Peladon: I am not surprised that you exceeded the word count - your story is chock-full of ideas that could have been used as the framework for a complete series Eric! So many great and ingenious ideas: Avon waiting on Terminal, Orac controlling a mutoid - oh, and THAT bitter punchline! Wow!
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