Issue No. 54  Winter 199

It's a Dead Man's Party...

BSE GOES INTO COMA DUE TO ZOMBIE VIRUS!

Z-BUG KO'S BSE: SHIP-GO A NO-NO

Dramatic headlines, eh? Something the CPT should have on their front page. But has anyone seen their copy of  the CPT? 'War is Over!" Like tell us something we already didn't know. Ah, but that's just ol' Hedd, whining and complaining. Butchin' and kvetchin'...

Has the proverbial skedbe poop hit the fan, or what? Strange asteroids everywhere, zombies sneezing and spreading the Zombie Flu, and so forth. 'Course there's all these idiot starcaptains who don't wash their hands after using the facilities, spreading it farther, and so on.This is the one time I hope Werth doesn't have any traffic. Not that there's much to begin with. Seems a good chunk of Known Space is staying put and hoping the medical guys do a "Jonas Salk".

Then this little piece of news comes along- there's no more Inner Empire (stop cheering, you out there in the ROC). The Fish had 'em for dinner. No more Jasil. Der Kaiser is kaput, long live Der Kaiser. Buffalo Bill Cody probably wet himself in excitement.

What else? The Amaris Clan buys the FET and sends Ol'  Moanin' Morgan and the rest of those so-called upright and uptight "heroes" into a tizzy. Then the Amaris sell off to another group headed by a Mister X and head off to the Nexus. Then two days later. Mister X is in a psych-ward and it looks like somebody legitimate gets the job. Anyone wants to place bets on an IMPie/USA black-bag job here?

And to top off this fruitcake, the Foelians defrosted some old nut called Blood Priest Whisper and put him back to work running a colony. Did I say 'nut'? We're talking a few planets short of a solar system, kids. First thing he does is try to beat up on the Qumans. Wonder if he's related to Marshall Whispers of the former GTT?

Strange stuff, strange times. If 'n I didn't know any better, I'd swear that I'd chewed on the worm at the bottom of the bottle. And considering that the torture-with-an-eggbeater freak Ace Kreiger is now REALLY in charge here in the Periphery, I probably should have.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Zombies. I'm staying here at Werth until a cure is found or I run outta limes. I sorta said that, didn't I? GASP- maybe I already have it. Either that or a good case of margarita amnesia.

Meanwhile here's the much debated, sometimes slated, always G-rated Ringbone Interview. What a more timely interview subject than the Zombies, eh?

Ringbone Interview: The Zombie Rebels of Geeche

IND colony Romero on the planet Geeche is the home to the Necrotians, a Zombie race. Recently the colony fell to the Republic of Corona. Nearly destroyed, only five percent of the colony's population remains.

Through the aid of Hiram Schwartz, a freelance journalist, the Bone managed to secure an interview with some of the surviving colony leaders. The interview took place in what was the governmental house. Schwartz conducted the interview as the former governmental officials were packing up their belongings to allow the ROC officials to take over. It is a story of Coronan imperialism, treachery, and oppression of a sentient race.

Bone: I gather you folks call yourselves Necrotians. What exactly is a Necrotian?

NECR: A Necrotian is a Necrotian! What exactly is a Human? What is a Samillian? We are what we are. We are a group of Humanoids, a collection of differing peoples who, in our past, were brought here.

Bone: Where do the Necrotians come from, and how did they come to establish IND Romero?

NECR: Thousands of years ago, a race calling themselves the "Travellers" brought us here. We were deposited on this world, given some basic supplies and left. We have not seen the Travellers again since. The colony of Romero was named after our first leader, Romeromackesrtay Grtymcya.

Bone: Who were the Travellers?

NECR: We do not know, or remember.

Bone: Do you remember why you were left on Geeche?

NECR: To see if we can survive.

Bone: Why did IND Romero rebel against the ROC?

NECR: The ROC were invited here as guests. They then claimed to "own" the system and the planet, and tried to force their way of government on us. We didn’t like their government, told them so, and they ignored and oppressed us.

Bone: Do you mean they don't treat the Necrotians as sentient beings? Are you considered slaves or property?  

NECR: Neither. We are just ignored- as not being there. You talk to a ROC person, it's as if we don't exist. They don't acknowledge us.

Bone: You mean you're considered... machinery?

NECR: Yes.

Bone: How did the DDR come to assist Romero?

NECR: We appealed to another visiting race, the DDR, for assistance in defending our city. The DDR obliged.

Bone: What happens now that Romero has surrendered?

NECR: We lost 95% of our population in the final days of the war. We needed to have some remembrance of our past. We talked to our DDR allies, who, due to circumstances that you would need to talk to them about, could no longer support us sufficiently. We agreed that the genocide of the Necrotians was not going to help us. The DDR left and we surrendered. The ROC are going to do what they wish with the colony and our people.

Bone: Has any good come out of this?

NECR:  Thankfully, the ROC have not interfered with our religion. We have, according to our DDR friends, a "repulsive" religion. As we worship the Zombie, and the making of the Zombie is part of our worship. We are concerned about the ROC trying to interfere with our religion. If they decide to oppress this religion we will, unfortunately, have to revolt again. We would then fight to the last Necrotian in order to preserve our religious beliefs.

Bone: Who is this "Zombie"? Is it an actual being, or a concept? What is Zombie- making?

NECR: Making Zombies is a religious secret, and not for the likes of you. No offense intended. There is no "the Zombie". Just zombies. Go out into the wilds of Geeche and you will see what I mean.

Bone: Thanks. One last question. We all saw Lord Bub's last speech as Governor, where he surrendered and literally dropped off the key. Where is he now?

NECR: Lord Bub has departed into the swamps of Geeche. We have no idea where he is. All he told us is that he wanted to live out his years in solitude.

Guess what, Kiddies! You were gonna get another interview with Perfesser Italia and the new arrivals. But since that 'official newsletter of BSE' scooped me, I ditched it. Yeah, it was a pathetic interview and the reporter who did it was a weak-stomached wimp, but we got standards to uphold here. Hey, at least you got a glimpse of some Z-men.  There's a Monica joke in there someplace, but I ain't gonna go hunting for it...

Letters to the Editor

Hedd,

Good last issue [#53]. Question: you've got Maddie Mallard listed as "Editor Emeritus". Who's Maddie?

New to BSE

Ah, a BSE virgin! Lemme talk to ya about this great deposit I have out in Gank that I want to get rid of.

Seriously, Maddie was the first editor of this rag. The Bone itself was founded by Father Larry, a somewhat controversial friar who's now our receptionist as part of a rehabilitation program. She turned over running the rag to me about seven years ago and more or less retired and no one's seen her since. Supposedly she has digs here at Werth. There's one place where a lot of chocolate, latex 'thingies' and beach boys go into (and don't come out), but nobody's sure it's her place and Werth's government ain't talking.

Harold-

Got a question for you. Do you still put out a paper version for those that don't have access or email?

Chief Runamok 

Sure, Runny. We can do that. Have 'em go and pray to the BSE ghods for deliverance (pun intended) and they'll tell me. They do speak to me- honest. 'Specially after three plates of nachos.

Hedd,

Is that you as "Big Hedd Productions" on the last page of the CPT?

Curious

Dear Curious; thanks for asking. No, it isn't really me. It's my dear and somewhat distant cousin Richard Hedd (and don't ever, ever, call him 'Dick'). He used to work as a copywriter for a few short-lived rags before coming to the CPT. We don't talk too much, and he can be a bit of a- well, you know. But he did do a good job tho, eh?

Don't tell anyone, but our sources say the Zombie Virus is reeeeall bad. How bad? In two years, your ethics get warped and you have an uncontrollable urge to want to be called "Counsellor". Oh, and an 'Esq." grows out of the end of your name. Ewwww...

Well, still no Father Larry. But I promise the final chapter in the saga will be in the next issue, or else someone will pay. Unnerstand, Duckbutt? So hard to get good lackeys nowadays. Maybe I'll volunteer him as a colonist at that UNK research colony. He'd be safe; the zombies eat brains and you can't eat what you can't find.

Got this next one sent to me by someone who call himself "a lowly STC e-mail clerk". He explained these are taken from misrouted messages addressed to a certain USA personage:

Top Ten Misprinted Names for Star Admiral Morgan

10. Star Admiral Bore-man

9.  Star Admiral Moaner

8. Star Admiral Ingnorehim

7. Bar Animal Blowhard

6. The Ego

5. Mister "Way Back When.."

4. Star Admiral F-K Yourself

3.  Worf's Cannibal Doorman

2.  It's that  #$%@+* Morgan!  

1. You Insufferable Megalomaniac Bastard

Enroute to Draconia

Rollo McAllister, Agent of the STC

In the last installment, Rollo was given a surprise promotion to Inspector and an an equally surprising assignment: escorting an STC negotiator to Draconian space to re-establish good relations with ROC Corona.

The walk back home from the hotel was pretty much a blur for me. The sudden promotion and an off-the wall assignment floored me. I had a vague sense of disquiet, like I'd lost control of the situation. Maybe I was getting old, or maybe those newly-acquired war wounds took more of a toll than I thought. Time to head home and sort things out.

Even though the STC Kommercia Branch Manager rated starport housing, I was staying aboard my yacht, the Stellar Repossession. I smiled when I saw her through the corridor window. Tucked there in her berth among the Cargo Carriers, she looked like an old lady on a steroid-laden slugball team.

The Repo was an ex-IAN courier, a veteran of the Addler debacle, the CPR rebellion, and the recent SAM/USS-GA war. I'd picked her up in an STC auction after my first ship was destroyed by FET agents. She was twenty years old, but she was comfortable and could still move fast if I needed it. Best of all, it only needed a crew of two to run her. Me, and Swek.

I did my usual walk around and checked the security panel. If somebody had come aboard, two small red lights hidden in a landing gear bay would have been lit. I didn't want to deter anyone going in; I just wanted to be ready for them if they were still there examining the drapes. It had saved my life a few times, as did the laser pistol in the fake junction box next to the panel.

Swek was curled up in his usual seat, watching some show on the Kazerickii entertainment channel.

"It's a soap opera, in case you were wondering."  

Yeah, I was. I shook my head.

"How can you watch that stuff?" I grumbled., "The sports are okay, but longest I can stand watching one of those shows is five minutes." Swek said he was fascinated by the interplay. But then he's different anyway.

I first came across Swek in the cargo hold of a strange, derelict starship years ago. I'd gotten him out just before it imploded. Swek was of a race I'd never seen. I've never asked where he came from and he's never volunteered to tell me. The best way to describe him is small, sort of a cross between a femole, a bad haircut, and a scientist. Oh, and he's a telepath. He's definitely alien.

But Swek and I get along well. He's helped me solve more than a few problems, saved my life a couple of times, and I guess I entertain him in my own stumbling way. Swek's not too keen on meeting people. He's got his own cabin and the door is set up to look like part of the bulkhead. Sometimes he's stayed in there for days.

"The meeting went well?" I'd long since stopped being surprised at how he found out about stuff. He says he never reads my mind without my permission, but somehow he knows.

"Yeah, I guess," I grabbed a stimbrew from the cooler and sat down, "I got promoted."

"That's good, isn't it? You yourself told me that promotions are hard to come by in your profession"

"It's great. It also comes with a price tag attached." Swek glanced over at the holoscreen for a few minutes. From what I could see, several drones were talking together. At least I think they were talking. They could have been making cheese for all I knew. My Kazareck isn't all that good.

"Does it mean we're leaving Kommercia?"

"Yep. It's a bodyguard job." I quickly explained the assignment. As usual, Swek didn't show any emotion but I could sense he wasn't too happy, "Liftoff is in 40 TUs. We'll rendezvous with another ship and take on my charge. Whoever it is can use the spare cabin in the back."

"I'm heading back to the branch," I told him as I polished off the stimbrew, "Might as well turn over everything now."

"What about me?" The alien still had his eyes on the holoscreen. The drones were still waving and babbling, but more frantic now. Maybe it was one of those holo-news roundtables instead of a soap opera.

"Whoever's coming on board is going to have to get used to you, and you to them," I squatted down and looked at him. "Swek, you've worked with me for nearly twenty years. I know this isn't one of my usual repo-jobs. But times change, partner. I'm tired and I want to end my career doing something besides sitting behind a counter handing out T-shirts to new recruits."

Swek didn't reply, but his feline-like body was tensed up. I stood up and went over to his chair.

"Look," I told him, "I know you  value your privacy and you don't want to be seen. If I was a castaway light-years from home, I'd probably be the same way. You can stay in your cabin and lock the door. But it's going to be a real long trip out to Draconia and I don't know who our esteemed guest is. Can you see me having to deal with some cantankerous eighty-year old bastard telling me about his glory-days in the Emperor's court? How many times can you listen to stories about thumbscrews and cattle prods?"

I got that fuzzy electric charge in my brain that passed for Swek's laughter. He uncoiled a bit and looked up.

"That may do you some good," he said as he stretched and yawned, "What is that old saying of your race? 'Patience is a virtue'?" The fuzzy charge hit me again.

"At least I know now where not to look for sympathy," I replied, "I'm going over to the office and begin turning things over to my assistant. Would you download the starcharts and plot a course to ROC Corona for me?"

"Consider it done," Swek said and went back to his show. Knowing him, it probably was already done. I shrugged and made my way to the gangway.

This just in- Marshall Whispers has publicly stated that he and Blood Priest Whisper are not related:

Unless some of my forebears were less then honest with me, Blood Priest Whisper is of no relation to me.  -- Marshall Whisphers, executor GTT

We at the Bone say "Oh, yeah? Where's the DNA test?" And why did ol' Marshall change his last name? Does he think adding an 'h' could fool us? We want the truth, baby! Yeppers, we on the media fringe are always dee-manding proof. We aren't a buncha blind suck-ups like those CPT guys...

In case you were wondering, we are getting ready to input a lot of old Bones into the archive. In fact, I was rummaging through one of them and found something that gave me a nasty flashback. And a purple rash as well (you'll see why later). So as a gratis feature here's a:

Bone Retrospective: Ten Questions with LT Rlo Krieger

An (unbelievable) Interview from Issue #21, 189 by Harold Hedd

There is no doubt that Rlo Krieger is a household word. Termed the "bad boy of the Periphery", Rlo's exploits have been published in all the major newspapers. I managed to meet with Rlo at the Jolly Roger Saloon in the Black Palace Hotel at EEM Messalina. During what can be described as 20 TUs of absolute debauchery, I asked him the following questions:

Hedd: Rlo, what the hell is a skedbe?

Rlo: Huh? Ooooo, Heddman... gimme dat bottle before it be empty. (loud slurping noises) Now, youse got enymore of dat bosseven cheeselog left dat I gives ya? No? Uh, okay.

Whats did you want- oh, right, whatz is a skedbe? Ah...Itz a flyin' omnivorous rat, datz can eatz thru thorlium plating if it be hungry enuff. I gotz Phuzy when he wuz real little, like a baby skedbe, know what I mean? And he wuz a love gift from me goilfriend, da infamous but luvely in leather, Mother Bathory of the FET Rapid Deployment Force. I has trained 'im real goods too, he's my pal, he's mine. C'mere Phuzy! (loud flapping and a swish of obnoxious air finds Phuzy, and obviously incontinent skedbe, aperch on Rlo's vinyl-clad shoulder)  [Ed: a full grown skedbe looks a lot like Star Trek's Klingon "dog", only with wings].

Hedd: That skedbe needs a bath! Or has he been sick? Anyway, we've heard a lot about your, er, "reconstructive surgery". Is your pocket pal a rebuild or a bionic job?

Rlo: Well, dats kinda poisonal froms a guy I has only just met. Does you tink you is, askin' me a question like dat! Why don'ts I just bends youse over dat stool and letz youse find out for yerself? Geez de audacity of some joinalists! I oughta wait till itz dark and den sneek ups on youse in from behind in da dark. I'd be teaching youse some manners...

Hedd: Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Well, can you at least tell us if you had it done to original specs, or did you talk the doc into an "unabridged version"?

Rlo: Well...here, take a look for yerself. (Rlo stands up and drops his pants- in the middle of the saloon! Eyes widened and waitresses screamed and fainted)

Dere, dat oughta answer da question once and fer all. What? Da scabs- what scabs? Oh, dose scabs. Datz where it dragz on de ground, butz I is gettin' a seat belt retractor and I won'ts be havin' dat problem ennymore.

Hedd: You have a manservant named Myron. Who is he, and what does an Rlo Krieger manservant do?

Rlo: Myron...well, he's been wid me for abouts three years. He's just a little Gollum-like guy dat wuz a goin' away gift from dat bitch Fiona Brisen, da late bitch Fiona Brisen, I might add. [Ed: Fiona was the one who lured Rlo to her colony with promises of 'fun', then captured him and had him castrated. She and her lover later committed suicide.]

Whats does he does? He fixes me meals, he fluffs me pillows, he washes me clothes, he shines me boots, he fixes broken windows, he carries stuff fer me, he takes care of Phuzy, all kinds of stuff, dats what he does fer me. He used to give me goils a lotta grief 'cause he wuz always tryin' to look up der skirts. I told dem gals dat I'd put a stop to dat silliness right away - I made de goils goes naked!

Hedd: What's the scoop on your problems with Werth?

Rlo: Geez youse is nosey ain't cha? Well, it ain't no secret ennymore. But dat place is a heartless place, I sure noes dat for a fact.

Y'see, back when Werth wuz attacked by de COMmies, I wuz da only one dat helped. Dat's right and honest injun, I took medical supplies and a sickbay, or wuz it food...ahhh who cares. I took dat stuff to Hile and landed in da dark, at night, widout orbiting, next to da plateau. Dose guys [at Werth] shoved ten crates and ten guys on me ship and told me ta beat it quick-like. So I did. And whens I wuz in space I tried to find out wat wuz in dem crates, and who dem other guys wuz.

Well, it turned out da crates just had all kinds of poisonal stuff in 'em, dat's all, and da peoples wuz just Lord XinXon and his family and staff, tryin' to travel incognito. But I guess de ride wasn't to da liking of Mr. High and Might XinXon, ohhhhhh no, he no sooner gets outa me ship he starts accusing me and my crew of dis an dat, breakin' and enterin', assault wid deadly weapons, harassment of women and children, and he just goes on and on.

Well, I finds meself literally nailed to da starport tarmac at GTT Bome, while dese trumped up charges are decided by dat GTT rathole. Well, dey let me have one fone call and I called me Mommy. Dey sure let me go real quick, but not before dey gives me dis (Rlo pushes back his hair to reveal the word 'ASSHOLE' tattooed on his forehead. This explained why the female crew had 'Property of an Asshole' tattooed on their southern cheeks.), plus I iz banned from all GTT colonies forever. And when I tries to goes to Werth, ta make up and says I iz sorry, dey threaten to shoot at me and tells me ta go away! Now, I asks youse, iz dat fair?

Hedd: I like that vermillion and turquoise jacket you've got on. Who designs your clothes?

Rlo:  Why tank you. I worse dis special 'cause I knowed dat I wuz being interviewed, and because dis place requires a jacket. I tink da management requires dese jacket so dat de patron's weapons iz outta site from da ladies. Myrons does all da sewing and stuff. I justs picks out da fabrics. I gets me ideas from seeing da video, or magazines I find in trash cans, stuff like dat. Whatever hits me fancy. But I ain't no slave ta fashion.

Hedd: What is your ideal woman?

Rlo: Well, she oughta be alive, but unconscious. If'n youse paid for her, she should be willin' and wigglin'. But anyhow, she's gotta be wearin' leather wid lotz of rivets and carryin' a whip... wid high heel shoes...and fishnet stockings...geez I iz gettin' meself excited...next question!

Hedd: How do you feel about whips, chains, and forty-weight motor oil?

Rlo: Gosh, didn't we just answer dat question? I likes all three tings, okay?!

Hedd: What is your idea of a good time?

Rlo: A good time haz gots to have a few essential factors. Itz gotta be far away from home so's "Ma" don't find out, itz gotta have broads, booze, drugs, and an ellyment of adventure. Oh, anna low risk of gettin' caught.

Hedd: Rlo, one final question while I'm still semi-vertical: is there any place where you draw the line?

Rlo: Youse betcha! I draws da line when it comes to pickin' up da tab. I draws da line when it comes ta actin' grownup or acceptin' responsibility. And youse better not say anythin' bad about me Mommy!

Boy, that one played hell with the spell checker. But it's a keeper. Kinda makes ya wonder where all the BSE 'characters' went, eh? Nah, don't include Whisper or Scaflock in that batch. One's a psycho and the other's a reprobate. Or is it the other way around? Maybe it's both... maybe they're brothers...Aaaaaah!

In case you were wondering, I did get Rlo's bar tab. I also was found semi-conscious in Messalina's starport , wearing Rlo's suit. Oh, did I mention I was completely shaved and dyed a dark purple? And got tossed in jail, charged with inciting a riot, assault and battery of an Imperial, and a CC-load of property damages? Ah, those were the good old days before the Lords of Cohoes screwed it up and made it just another cash cow to be butchered.

Enough of the nostalgia (sounds like a nasal medical condition, doesn't it?). Let's gets to the best and last:

Rumor And Innuendo

by Kinki DeWins

*  Guess who's setting up shop in Draconia? Hint: they've got antennae and mandibles, and it isn't the KZK.

*  Rumors that there may be political movements arising among the Periphery's native races continue to surface. Two cargo shipments of weapons in Company ships have disappeared at one planet.

*  Crew members are claiming that they've seen strange doings in the big hangars at the far end of Hypso's starport. There's been reports of strange take-offs and landings, but witnesses seem to disappear.

*  Big doings in the Nexus as a "major player" decides to explore the territory.

* First the "Fish" and now this: latest rumor running through the starport alleys are about a race called "The Birds".

* What's this about the Myrrians and their "Weasel Tech" project? Couldn't be as good as the Frosted Nut...

As the Bird used to say- Yo, babies! This is finito, endsville, kaputski. But not to fret (Yeah, you there in the back- I saw ya fretting), because the Bone will be back in two months. Yeppers, we're doing five issues this year. That's still more or less quarterly, right? See ya!

Ads and Stuff

We Want You! We Really, Really Want You!  Due to a lack of qualified star captains, we are now accepting any captain with flight certifications as member traders. This now includes all alien races, plant, and sea lifeforms. We may be desperate enough to include small animals or nanites. Any and all interested parties reply at your local AFT recruitment center atten: Trade Minister or see our ad in the Ringbone Gazette.

Out Transhole Way? Please be sure to visit IND Allipon (1399) in the Limond (94) system. My used ship market can't be beat. You want something built? ASK! I have a fairly modest factory base, so I can produce most common items in a very short time. - Lord Justin Jacine, IND Allipon

Petroom Is Open For Business! Markets are reopened at Kommercia Hive. We're oriented towards entertainment modules and exploration items.Why not stop in and visit a prime example of ongoing economic reconstruction in the Periphery? - D'zk Kal'ita, Governor of Kommercia Hive.

New Free Port! IND Werth is the latest and greatest in free and open ports. Buy stuff. Sell stuff. Exchange prisoners. Shop 'till you drop. Party with the pirates! Werth is the playground of the rich and infamous. And never, ever a cover charge.

The MYR Want Your Business!! Myrrians are still building and selling Myrships (10-10-10) and Myrchant ships (1-30-2). Both these designs have the 100 mu/hull shift and are Nexus and Draconian Cluster friendly. We have added more ship building centres for your convenience. In addition to ships we also have licenses available, as well as other items for sale and barter. - Der Laul, for the MYR.

The Bone would like to thank the following:

The Necrotians                                          

Everyone who's busting their ass on a cure for the Zombie Virus.

The BSE List (and almost all the Listers)

Royal Diner, Groton CT

Totally Tasteless Transhole Treasures (T4)        

Werth Department of  Records Destruction and Alteration

Mother Blatt's Blue Flame Baked Beans            

Rolling Thunder Games (you too, Neil )      

The Pepe Lopez Fan Club

Coffee- lots and lots of coffee

CompuServe- for finally upgrading our node: bigger tin cans and a nylon string :p