From: noahidebooksforever@gmail.com   
      
   SLIPSTREAM II   
      
   by   
      
   DANIEL THOMAS ANDREW DALY   
      
      
   Chapter 1   
      
   'You're a Sky-Flyer, Owens. It's all you're good for.'   
      
   The big black man took his cigar out of his mouth, spat on the ground, and   
   grinned at Ben Owens.   
      
   'Just like my daddy,' replied Ben Owens. 'Flying the Slipstream, Bruiser. It's   
   what's in me blood,' said Ben, waving his hand in a flying motion through the   
   air.   
      
   'I have 5 aces,' said Bruiser, laying down his cards.   
      
   '5 aces,' replied Ben. 'And here I thought you could only have 4 aces in   
   Poker. Must have misread them rules.'   
      
   'The money's all mine,' said Bruiser Baxter, and started raking the chips   
   towards him.   
      
   'Not so fast,' said Ben, grabbing Bruiser's hand. 'Royal flush. Read em and   
   weep. Beats your paltry 5 aces.'   
      
   'Shit,' said Bruiser, and threw down his cards. He turned to the weedy looking   
   fellow next to him. 'You said these cards were fixed proper.' The weedy   
   fellow, Jack 'Snake' Samson shrugged. 'Sorry boss. They were.'   
      
   'Not as well as mine,' replied Ben, and took all the chips. 'I'll be cashing   
   these in at Diamondstar Casino at the end of next week,' said Ben. He took a   
   chip and bit on it.   
      
   'Oh, they are real all right, you son of a gun,' said Bruiser. 'There's no   
   cheating around here,' he said, and glared at Jack, giving him a shove.   
      
   Ben put the chips carefully into his backpack, and hoisted it onto his   
   shoulders, while Snake whispered something into Bruiser's ear.   
      
   'Looks cold out,' said Bruiser. 'And it's late. Sundown soon enough. Maybe you   
   should stay the night. Hire a room, and we can booze it up and sing dumb songs   
   on Snakes banjo.'   
      
   'Tempting,' replied Ben. 'But I'm not sure if my loot will last till morning,'   
   said Ben, patting his backpack. 'Think I'll get going.'   
      
   Bruiser gave Snake another shove. 'He's not an idiot.'   
      
   'It was worth a try, boss.'   
      
   Ben shook his head, laughing softly at the two hoodlum's antics, and nodded at   
   the bartender of the 'Golden Glider' tavern, before ambling out the doorway,   
   in the cold autumn afternoon. Reaching his flyer he looked to the west. He   
   still had a decent hour    
   of flight left in the day, and he was probably about ready now to start his   
   trip back home. It had been a fruitful few weeks, flying the Slipstream, doing   
   rogue work for the rogue kind of guy he was. Bounty Hunter at times, Gun for   
   Hire, loose cannon,    
   repossession man, lost relic recovery, even saviour to struggling communities   
   from time to time, if the price was right. Almost a hero. But don't let anyone   
   ever tell you Ben Owens, son of Matt Owens, was anything approaching a hero.   
   He wasn't. He was,    
   as Carl 'Bruiser' Baxter said it, a real 'Son of a Gun'. And he had a pretty   
   fast draw as well. No, he was no hero. At least that is how he viewed himself.   
      
   'Boss man. Do you love me?'   
      
   Ben turned to the voice, as he was just about to get into his flyer. It was   
   the redhead teenage girl again.   
      
   'Look, lassie. I can't help you, ok. Winter's coming, my backpack is full, and   
   I gotta get home to my cats, you know. Their dryfood only lasts so long   
   sweetie, and I don't want em hunting Kildare's canaries again. That really   
   pisses him off.'   
      
   'You're famous around here,' said the girl. 'They all know Matt Owens son. He   
   was a hero. I know you are just like him. I can see it in your eyes.'   
      
   'I'm no hero,' replied Ben, and got himself into his flyer. The girl came and   
   stood at the window, and knocked. He wound it down. 'You still here?' he asked   
   her.   
      
   'I'm begging you, Mr Owens. We have nobody else to rely on. The marauders come   
   from the north, and they take our harvest every year. This year, if they come   
   again, we'll have no harvest, and we'll be eating bark and prickles again.'   
      
   'Kildare knows a decent prickly pie,' said Ben, grinning. The girl stared   
   blank faced in reply. 'Look, saying I help you, and I'm not saying that,   
   what's in it for me? You know, money talks,' he said, rubbing his thumb   
   against his fingers.   
      
   'We can't pay you much,' she said. 'But. But I can offer you.....,' she said,   
   and looked down, pointing her palms at her body.   
      
   'Don't say that,' said Ben. 'Nothing's that bad. Look, here's what I'll do.   
   I'll head back home, but drop around in a few weeks or so. Make sure I get   
   here before summer harvest and all. It's still months away.'   
      
   'Jonathon says if we don't prepare now, they will be too much for us,' said   
   the girl.   
      
   'And who's this Jonathon?'   
      
   'Head of our community. He talks to the wind. And it talks back. Says we need   
   you. He's sure of it.'   
      
   'I'll bet it does. So many crackpots think the wind is the answer. Just a lot   
   of hot wind as far as I am concerned.'   
      
   The girl looked at him with a helpless look on her face. 'If you don't help   
   us, we'll be done for.'   
      
   'What did Byron say,' said Ben. 'Before he put up dad's tombstone? That's   
   right. 'Should have looked before he leaped.'   
      
   'Your dad lept to his death?' asked the girl.   
      
   'It's a long story,' said Ben. 'And we never found the body either. But 200   
   feet into the bottom of a waterfall. No way he could have survived.'   
      
   'Why a tombstone then?'   
      
   'One way or another, after a few months we knew he wasn't coming back. He was   
   dead, or had found a new life. So his best friend put up a tombstone, and we   
   had a wake. Traditional like you know. It's what I'm thinking I might be   
   headed for if I take on    
   this contract.'   
      
   'We can pay 5000 credits,' said the girl. 'I was told to tell you that.'   
      
   'Not much, but I can tell you aint got much. Ok, get in then. Take me to your   
   leader.'   
      
   The girl jumped with glee and raced around to the other side of the flyer,   
   getting in the passenger seat, and giving Ben a hug. 'You are already my   
   hero,' she said.   
      
   'And hopefully I'll live to tell the tale,' said Ben, as he started the flyer,   
   and shortly it took off, flying into the gradually setting sun, leaving the   
   shanty town behind him, soon headed north to the mountains, and the community   
   in so need of help    
   headed by another likely Avatar by the name of Jonathon. Another dirty job for   
   Ben Owens, savioiur supreme.   
      
      
   Chapter 2   
      
   'It's up at the base of those mountains,' said the girl.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)