Promotional Video for Jack Bragen's 2024 Science Fiction Collection; available on Amazon

 

A Sequel to a Piece that Appeared in Bewildering Stories

 

THE FINAL BATTLE OF THE WEDGE WARRIORS

Jack Bragen

     Earth was in crisis. Entities believed they could benefit by bringing the peoples of our planet into global anarchy; they believed the Earth could then be taken over by a totalitarian dictator. And the dictator they liked was named Quigmer. 

     Quigmer had manipulated countries to be at war with one another, had committed acts of terrorism, blaming the victims, and had supported insurrections and coups worldwide. Quigmer believed the world belonged to him. 

     But Quigmer was often stymied in his efforts by the Wedge Warriors, a global force with special training, women and men who were fearless, putting themselves at risk to stop wars, getting between two warring parties and stopping the fights. And opening up dialogs to settle apparent differences. 

     Quigmer had slain the innocent husband Sumuk, who was the head of Wedge, and he'd kidnapped the spouse of a well-known and popularized outcast of Wedge, who had gone on a suicide mission to destroy a cluster of killer satellites. And that outcast was me. And Quigmer had kidnapped my wife. 

#

     I knew one person in the solar system who could help me get back Marla, and her name was Sumuk. 

     I was at the helm of my custom-built air/space craft, and I approached downtown Oakland, on a heading to land in its spaceport, which seventy years earlier had replaced the Oakland Airport. I planned to pay a visit to the head of the Wedge Warriors. Sumuk led the Wedge Warriors from her two-bedroom apartment that was built over Lake Merritt.

#

     Marla was no less than a wild mare in human flesh, a horse on the beach, futile to run after; she might come to you for food. I loved her and nothing could ever change that. Was I surprised at her infidelity? No. But Marla would always keep coming back because she needed me, and that would have to be good enough. 

     At age forty-five, I'd had ten years piloting experience and had become a renowned pilot--was considered one of the best. I could bring a ship to any part of the solar system that people within ships could go. 

     I'd learned piloting at an advanced age after I was ejected by the Wedge Warriors. Sumuk continued to hate my guts and she apparently always would. I'd violated a foremost rule of conduct of that organization. But now I was about to ask Sumuk for help, and I halfway believed this was futile. 

#

     The control tower instantly acknowledged my vehicle and immediately assigned me a spot to land. An automated aircar pulled up to the hatch of my vehicle. Pressures equalized with a hiss. I stepped out, and the air car was within fifteen feet. I got in and it carried me away to the parking garage up the street from Sumuk's residence. I stepped into the elevator. There was another person in the elevator. Petite, innocuous, dressed in green. 

     "I told you I'd kill you if I ever saw you again. Do you have any last words?" She paused, waiting for a response. "Very well, then." She immediately produced a blade and I assumed I was about to die. I would never see Marla again. 

     Sumuk stopped just short of slitting my throat. 

     "You've changed." Sumuk put the blade away. She produced a thin piece of plastic, put it in the keyhole of the elevator, and twisted the manual override. The elevator stopped between floors. Sumuk looked directly at me. 

     Sumuk said, "You care about someone. How did this happen?" 

     I did not speak. I was embarrassed, yet relieved that I wasn't to be killed on the spot, and I hoped Sumuk would consider my plea. 

     "What brings you here? I thought we had an understanding that you would never again show me your far too pretty face." 

     I replied, "I need to kill Quigmer and rescue my wife from him." 

     "Kill Quigmer..." Sumuk was contemplative. She apparently trusted me that I was kind enough not to try anything on her when she was preoccupied. Again, she looked at me.

     "You're in over your head. The Wedge Warriors would be in over our heads. Quigmer is no one to trifle with. If you don't get him on the first try, you're a goner. And the element of surprise would possibly be ineffective in the first place. How do you propose to accomplish such a worthy endeavor? Many on our side could be killed. You could be killed. And I, myself will not stay home and let others do all the fighting." 

     I replied, "Then this interests you." 

     "Come back tomorrow morning, first thing. We can't wait on this. If we wait, chances will increase the bastard will have advance warning." 

     I said, "How long will it take to come up with a plan?" 

     Sumuk replied, "No plan will work. We just have to go and do it." 

     "In a game of chess, it is suicide not to have a plan."

     "Humans aren't good at chess; computers are." Sumuk paused. "We must not hesitate. We must not waste any time pondering, deliberating, planning. We've lost too many lives that way." Sumuk reactivated the elevator. We went upward two more floors. 

     The elevator door slid open.

     "This is my floor. Do not follow me. Stay overnight in your vehicle. I'll make some phone calls and you should expect to fuel up and launch at eight tomorrow morning."  

#

     It was a balmy December morning, overcast with brown clouds that consisted of moisture mixed with pollutants. The air didn't smell as rancid as usual, or maybe I'd learned to ignore it. I didn't need to rely on an oxygen booster nor did any of the Wedge people, because of the insane level of aerobic training we'd received. Ten Wedge Warriors were present on the tarmac. A huge battleship loomed three hundred yards away, and I wished I could use it. 

     Sumuk looked at me and pointed at the battleship. "Look what I've rented!"

     "Gentlemen and Ladies..." Sumuk was calling the group to attention. A communicator beep was faintly audible, and a Wedge member looked to her pocket and moved a hand. Sumuk instantly drew a disintegrator gun and fired, melting the subordinate to boiling liquid in a quarter second. "Bad idea," Sumuk remarked. "I hope our location isn't given away. All members, put your communicators on exclusive and at full encryption." She paused. "Now there are nine of us, but we've rid ourselves of an individual unsuitable for the battle." 

     "Where are we going?" a member asked.

     "The short answer is, don't ask," Sumuk replied. "But I will warn you this is a very hazardous mission. If anyone wants to dodge out, you should do so now." 

     A man toward the back seemed hesitant and then raised a hand. Sumuk hadn't yet re holstered the disintegrator; she raised the weapon and disintegrated the gentleman who seemingly didn't want to go on the mission. "Now there are eight of us." 

#

     We boarded the battleship, and I had my own craft in piggyback on its side. We launched at high throttle, and this necessitated that we be in launch seats and wear pressure masks to counteract the G forces on our chests. Within twenty minutes we were in a high orbit of Earth, and we docked with a Wedge owned satellite. It provided extra fuel and some personnel, with whom Sumuk had contracted--both would come in handy. Also, tools--and some weapons that many military people dreamt of but never believed existed. 

     The battleship set course in the direction of the asteroid belt, which was between Mars and the outer planets. It was an extremely dangerous area to navigate, and special precautions and equipment were needed if one wanted to fly near there. It was believed to be the place from where Quigmer operated his empire. 

     We had some time on our hands. Sumuk ran through various contingencies with the Wedge Warriors. We rested. We used special techniques to avoid any form of nervousness. 

     Just beyond the orbit of Mars, we were intercepted. 

     Unrecognizable spacecraft flew on all sides of our battleship. The pilot hired by Sumuk seemed to have a cow. His apprehension was quite visible and it was bad enough that he froze. 

     I approached the pilot at his helm. "Just fly it steady," I said. "Sumuk worded me that she is headed to the control room." I sat as copilot and took the controls. I liked how the battleship handled, enjoying this despite the circumstances. 

     Two of the spacecrafts launched missiles that detonated nearby. The range was point blank. The detonations were big enough to leave no doubt that we were outgunned. I picked up the radio box. 

     "We won't fight you," I said. 

     The next sound I heard made me shudder. It was Quigmer's voice. "Of course, you won't. Prepare to be boarded." 

     One of the four spacecraft moved closer and matched speed and course with us exactly. Sumuk entered the control room. 

     I looked at Sumuk. She knew what I didn't have to say.

     Sumuk said, "Quigmer's got us." 

#

     Our rented space battleship had a mild lurch as the Quigmer craft latched on. Sumuk had given specific instructions in advance regarding this contingency. The area of the main airlock was abandoned. Space vehicle personnel were in strategic locations that would be hard to anticipate. The Wedge Warriors were fearless, yet they knew this could become their last battle. 

#

     The original intent of establishing "Wedge Warriors" was to act as a wedge that separated warring factions on Earth. Their training reflected that. In the primary view of Wedge's founder, Louis Baker, no side in a war was the "good" side, and both sides intended to blow each other away. However, they were dealing with Quigmer, who was in a category of entities that darkened the human species about once each century. Quigmer had to be eliminated. This was contrary to the basic ideal of Wedge, but Sumuk had decided to amend Wedge Warrior ethics to account for someone such as Quigmer. 

     The Wedge Warriors on board the rented spacecraft were authorized by Sumuk to defend themselves, even if it meant killing. This was allowed due to Sumuk's amendment. 

     And Quigmer held my wife.

#

     The airlock opened with a loud thunderclap of instantaneous pressure equalization. Enemy troops and support robots stormed into the corridor and met with no resistance--this was baffling. 

     How a few individuals with special training were able to overcome a force of hundreds of fighters--was partly luck and partly attributable to Sumuk's brilliance. I am not allowed to share too many details with you, but I will tell you, we managed to evade the "enemy" forces with no casualties. And in the philosophy of Wedge, this was considered the best possible victory. 

#

     Sumuk and I stood before Quigmer, and he appeared shocked at our presence. He reached for his weapon. In an infinitesimal moment, Sumuk gave me an instruction. I blasted away Quigmer's weapon with my drawn pistol. Quigmer appeared to worry while some blood issued from three severed fingers. Yet he reached for a weapon with his other hand. I fired and blew off that weapon. 

     Sumuk drew her disintegrator and said, "This is for my husband, you bastard." 

     She waited a split second to savor the moment, and melted Quigmer down to bubbling liquid on the floor.

#

     Sumuk and I were seated in front of microphones, and we looked forward at video cameras and reporters. Sumuk was apparently fighting the temptation to scratch at the wound on out her injured, bandaged arm. During the fray, she'd been dealt a glancing laser cut to her arm and was highly embarrassed about it. 

     We were introduced by our press director, and Sumuk began her initial statement.

     "People of the US, Europe, Asia, Africa, and of all countries on our planet will be happy to hear that we have killed Quigmer The Evil." Sumuk paused, and at the same time, the room fell silent. It was a huge relief to the people of Earth that Quigmer was gone, and the relief could be felt as a profound calmness in the nominally breathable air of Earth. 

     Sumuk continued. "We are unable to share very many details, but we are happy to tell you that Quigmer was the only casualty. The soldiers employed by Quigmer declined to fight when they became aware that Quigmer was deceased. They are mercenaries and their ethic is not to kill anyone unless paid for it." 

     The foremost reporter was bursting at the seams with his question, and Sumuk pointed at him and said, 'yes. You.' 

     "First of all, I have to express incredible gratitude..."

     "The question."

     "How does this affect the neutrality of the Wedge Warriors?" 

     Sumuk paused. I looked at her and it seemed as though she was on the verge of tears. 

     I turned on my microphone. "I can relay to you that Sumuk has made it clear the Wedge Warriors have irreversibly lost their neutrality and should be disbanded. That's Sumuk's feeling." 

     Sumuk stood and walked out of the room. I did not try to follow. I remained and answered a few questions, and then I informed the press corps that I needed to get some rest and would give out a written statement. The press people wanted to know how this amazing feat had been accomplished of killing Quigmer and avoidance of other casualties. But that had always been part of the ethic of the Wedge Warriors; achieve the objective and avoid killing. How we accomplished it was private information and could not be divulged. 

#

...One Week Later...

     Marla and I walked together in a park in the Berkeley hills. 

     Marla said, "I can't thank you enough." Her words and how they were spoken told me everything. I realized that Marla intended to divorce me. 

     

  

Is this product potentially deadly?

Ice trays made of thin plastic, when they age, often become brittle, and small pieces may break off. These small pieces can end up in your beverage and can then go into your throat, where they can cause you to choke to death, or where they can perforate your intestine.
     The solution to this is to boycott all ice trays except for those that are made from thicker plastic that won't break into pieces. 

A Different Pot of Chili

There is a very good reason why stores sell cans of chili with no beans. Above is a pot of boiled pasta and peas. Mix in the chili, and the taste is superb. You can do this!

A very simple, easy, nutritious, minimal mess meal

In my past I'd wished I could have Anthony Bourdain to my house for a meal. This is despite my absence of ability to prepare anything he might accept. The above is my idea of food. I broke the corn cobs in half to fit in a moderate sized pot. The chicken came as whole skinless breasts, and I semi-defrosted them in the microwave and sliced them across the grain into medallions. I didn't have to use a big pot for this because I was able to fit it all in. It's not fancy but will fill the belly without making you sick.

Mr. Bragen at his post

Back With More Fiction

THE DRIVER
Jack Bragen


     The city was endless.  I did not know where I was, but I knew I wanted to find home. I badly wanted to find home. I didn't know where that was, and I didn't know who I was. I just kept driving. And it was night, it was night, always. 
     I stopped at a small market. I used their toilet and I bought something to eat and drink. I didn't know why my debit card worked, and I didn't know how much money was in there. The debit card just kept working. I looked at my debit card; it had no name, just an account number, and an expiration date. I looked for a driver's license, and it said, "Driver's License" and it had a chip and a magnetic strip, but no photo or name. I got back to my car; a yellow sedan that always worked. I didn't know what kind it was.
     I kept driving, block after block. I was in a daze and I was obeying traffic signals--and observing the pedestrian right-of-way. I was in a sea of taillights, headlights on high and low beam, bright advertising signs, road signs that I could not comprehend, crosswalk signals, paint on roads, potholes, and sometimes newly paved smoothness. 
     I drove within rivers of vehicles, some people on scooters, Mercedes's, autonomous cars, Harleys driven by big men, old Volkswagens, bicycles that zigzagged ridden by people who didn't care, delivery trucks, stopped trucks with their flashers being loaded or unloaded--I had to maneuver around them--cars with yellow turn signals, cars with red turn signals, police cars, and a policeman on horseback. 
     I occasionally glanced at the sidewalks. Some of the people walking appeared prosperous; and they were shopping or going to or from a restaurant. Some appeared less fortunate.
     I passed through an impoverished area, garbage adorning the streets, empty overgrown lots, chain link fences that served no purpose, drug dealers, and their customers.
     I drove past that and went through a business district. The buildings were lit up, but no one was at work.  I reached a residential area. Condominiums and townhouses--all the same. But which one was mine? I had no idea. And who was I?
     My endurance was unlimited. Whoever had made me had designed me not to need rest. Yet, I seemed human, a person. But one with no identity. My headlights illuminated a stop sign--the first stop that was not a traffic signal. Here I was going to stop. I was going to get out of my incredible car, and I was going to stop, just stop. I turned off the car's power.
     But no, I couldn't. I had to find home.  So I just kept driving.