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    The Press Wars
    The Press Wars
    The Press Wars
    Ebook128 pages1 hour

    The Press Wars

    By Neil Dabb

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    About this ebook

    When The Press Wars break out, they leave Calvin Wheams, an investigative reporter is trapped on a small world where a possible solution to the two presses differences lies. In order to survive till help arrives he takes cover with a beautiful local reporter.

    Help arrives in the form of his writer turned warrior pen pal/girlfriend, adding more complications to an already tense situation.

    With the help of an old friend, Cal must ease the tensions between the two women, and deal with the leader of the other side to forge a peace treaty.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNeil Dabb
    Release dateMay 3, 2014
    ISBN9781311962690
    The Press Wars
    Author

    Neil Dabb

    Neil grew up in Smithfield, Utah, and currently holds a General Class license amateur radio license. He was a material handler for over 10 years while obtaining a BA from Utah State University. He has been a freelance writer for most of that time and has been published in a variety of magazines over the years.Neil worked for Utah State University for twelve years with the Junior Engineering program. He enjoys writing, Frisbee (disc) golf and bonfires. He is the father of five children and lives in Logan Utah.

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      Book preview

      The Press Wars - Neil Dabb

      THE PRESS WARS

      by

      Neil Dabb

      Copyright 2014 Neil Dabb

      Smashwords Edition

      Discover other titles by Neil Dabb at Smashwords.com

      For my family's patience, and the help of my writers group.

      THE PRESS WARS

      by

      Neil Dabb

      Chapter 1.

      I often wish the spark that caused the press wars to turn to physical violence had happened later so that I wouldn't have had to be involved, but then again, if it hadn't been then, it would have been another time. The differences between the presses ensured that eventually war would break out.

      Angela (a pal of mine from way back) hadn't realized the depravity of the crime she'd come to help unravel. The victims' faces were contorted as though they had been in great pain. There were computer implants in the backs of their necks, but there were no other visible wounds. Later, when the computer logs were accessed, there was no way to prepare any of the investigators for the horror revealed in those files.

      The torture the young prince and princess had endured over and over in the virtual world was more than Angela could stand. She closed her dark brown eyes and left the room, her small frame trembling as she tried to force the terrifying sounds and images from her mind. Outside she watched the coroners shuttle pull away from the curb and rise into the air. A state would mourn for a while, but they would never understand the horror of the actual crime. She understood, and she would remember. The time had come for her to act.

      Two days later she arrived on Omni II and joined a militia group there. Two years later she was back on earth when the four men responsible for the murder of the prince and princess were finally sentenced.

      Angela watched as the leader of the jury delivered the verdict. When the word guilty was spoken, a huge bald man, who had been identified as a leader of the Yellow press and the father of two of the murderers, stood to object, but was silenced by the judge.

      The sentence stands. The prisoners will be executed.

      The man moved purposefully forward and stopped just short of the judge. I will have my revenge, and each of you here will pay.

      The bailiff forcibly removed the man from the courtroom, but not until Angela was able to look into his eyes. One was blue, and one was green. The one dark eyebrow that covered both eyes gave the distinct impression of a stubborn, ruthless man.

      Unfortunately it would be another five years before the executions would be carried out.

      The battle between the Red/blue press and the Yellow press had been going on for centuries, and would've erupted into violence sooner or later. It was the death of the four men, reporters for the yellows, that ignited the violence of the press wars. Their executions had been put off for so long that many people had forgotten about the beautiful young prince and princess that they had tortured and then killed as they tried to escape, all to get a story on the King and Queen of one of earths states. That violence had quickly spread to all levels of both presses.

      When the hostilities started, the first thing most publishers on both sides did was buy up all the new gunships available and issue them to their star reporters, allowing those reporters to protect themselves against the other side. Those publishers that weren't fast enough resorted to hiring pirate ships to transport and protect their writers. The Red/blues stayed with the more respectable local pirates. The Yellows were forced to move out to the Orion systems where the pirates were more ruthless. Any publishers who couldn't afford either option simply went out of business shortly after all of their star reporters were killed in battle.

      The loose senate of planets tried to end the hostilities, but their limited forces were no match against the pirates or the gunships that the big presses had purchased so it wasn't long before the senate simply gave up and turned a deaf ear to the war that was raging between the presses. They warned innocent bystanders to stay clear and then locked themselves in their ivory towers so to speak.

      On the other hand, it was kind of nice to have my own well armed shuttle for traveling from one assignment to the next, and there were still lots of assignments to be had. The innocents and the politicians may have taken cover but their thirst for what was going on in the rest of the galaxy had not diminished. The war had simply made the information harder to come by since many reporters would rather fight than write.

      I had managed to avoid any confrontations for several months before I joined the battle in ernest, and even then if I'd been just a bit quicker....

      I had gone to a little backwater planet called NitoKan to get some background information on a developing race that was applying to the senate for membership. I spent two days gathering information in the jungle villages, while I stayed in the one hotel built for outsiders on the planet. I was just preparing to leave when the pirates showed up.

      My shuttle was boarded before I could hit the emergency lock-out and while I did get one quick shot off, destroying their ship before they got to the bridge, the press team and the pirates that were on my ship were more than I could handle by myself. I grabbed my information chips, punched a command into the ships computer and dove out the emergency hatch as they entered from the other side of the tiny room that was the bridge. The fact that they were all inside allowed me to roll under the ship parked next to mine, and sprint into the crowd before they realized that I was gone.

      I loathed the loss of the shuttle, but decided it wasn't worth risking my life for. I had put a sizable distance between myself and the shuttle when they realized that the information I'd gathered wouldn't easily be gleaned from the computer. By this time many writers had resorted to stealing from other writers, so the pirates sent the writers after me, while they prepared to steal the ship itself. The speed of the writers told me that they were desperate for my stories.

      The ability to blend into the crowd is one that many writers develop out of necessity. People tend to give a different (and usually cleaner) account of things if they know someone is watching. My research, while scant at best had been thorough enough for me to find a hiding place and stay there.

      I had taken the guise of a shopkeeper, on his lunch break. It almost worked, I thought, as they came up to me and leveled their blaster rifles at me. There was a moment of evaluation as they watched. I held my breath, trying to look every bit the part of a frightened shop keeper. Unfortunately one of the writers wasn't convinced and I took a blast right in center of my body armor (a precaution Angela had suggested in one of her letters to me).

      I was thrown violently back into the arms of a lady shopkeeper standing near by who let out a string of curses at the writer as she gently lowered me to the ground. I continued to play dead until they were well out of sight, hoping they'd believe they'd shot an innocent and not search me for my stories.

      You can get up now. The lady shop keeper moved on about her business. They're gone.

      Thanks, I said before she disappeared inside her shop.

      I moved carefully back toward the space port. A few minutes later I watched my shuttle take off over the village.

      I again regretted the loss of the shuttle, knowing that I would have to take refuge with the natives until I could summon help, but I did have the satisfaction of watching my shuttle blow up just before it got out of sight. The self destruct I had programmed into the computer had worked perfectly. Now I would have a much easier time of hiding.

      I risked entering the hotel long enough to send a coded message to my editor and another to Angela so she wouldn't worry, then I went back and tried to blend into the crowd. My shopkeepers garb and my research on the culture were invaluable for staying undercover, until the evening meal.

      I had moved quietly from shop to shop for most of the afternoon, trying to decide what to do for the night. I was about to go meet with some of the natives I had eaten with before, when I realized that everyone in the village was going to the council

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