From: Marcus Champ Date sent: Fri, 19 Dec 1997 (no title) Copyright 1997 by Marcus Champ The E-Mail messages kept coming in. Publishers all over the country were contacting him. Of course many had not but he did not expect this response and from his first completed novel! The toil and lack of sleep, the pizza, the sugar it was like some kind of dream. All he had to do now was go through the list and determine his next best step. The replies from his outline were good, but who would be best suited to spread his masterpiece across the globe? A loud rapping noise emanated from the front door. Michael was so startled he fell from his chair. The door resounded again. Who the hell could that be. This had better be good. Reluctantly he got up from the floor and with a groan made his way to the offending door. " All right, all right, coming..." Thankfully the door remained quiet as he reached for the handle and yanked the door open. There were two men dressed in coats which was odd for summer, and hats. One was tall with a beard, the other shorter and carrying a briefcase. They looked like cops, or FBI or something equally unpleasant. "Yes, well what can I do for you?" "Are you Michael Cusack of 3 Stanton place?" the tall man asked, the voice was resonant and authoritative. "Yes." Something was definitely weird here he thought. "Are you the Michael Cusack who recently completed the 'Blood of Empire'?"The shorter one asked in the same tone of voice. "Yes", the two men looked at each other then leaned forward expecting to be let in. "We represent a..publisher who is interested in, ah, purchasing your work. May we come in?" The tall one looked down at him with a steely look. "Sure, sure." Hardly able to suppress the excitement, he stepped aside and ushered the two men through to the living room. The two men came through in unison and even sat on his dilapidated couch at the same time, and looked around, almost studying his apartment as they went. "Well..who are you representing...I have only sent a draft, I wasn't expecting anyone yet." They were odd but if they wanted to publish, he didn't care. "We are from...off-world publishing, and we want to ask you some questions about your work." "OK, fire away..." I wonder what their offer is going to be. "What gave you the idea for the gravitic disruptor...and the descriptions of the empires ships were so, ah creative...had you seen them before?" The shorter man seemed to glare at him as he spoke. "What..!" Something was definitely not right here, who the hell were these people. Michael walked around closer to the phone and noticed that their gaze never left him. "Yes, our government...I mean publisher would be most interested to see your detailed drawings and to know where you got your information from!" The shorter man stood, opened his briefcase and rummaged around for something. "I think you guys need to rest. I also think that it is time for you to leave..." Michael picked up the phone and began to dial. Even as he did this, the shorter man drew some kind of device from his case, pointed it at Michaels' torso and he slumped to the floor. His eyes were still open, and he could hear but he could not move. He saw feet, then was hefted between the two men. "The emperor will be pleased, another spy, and on such a backwater...but how did he find out about such things?" The shorter man asked. "I do not know, but he could not just-make them up-the detailed descriptions, even the new secret wave gun. No we will find out...that I can assure you!" The taller man shrugged and together they eased michael through the door and down to their vehicle. Michael was dumped in the back seat and an hour later was loaded onto some kind of interstellar vehicle. He still couldn't move but he knew that this was not going to be the trip of his dreams.