Christina Engela

Respect by fear isn't respect... it's fear.

Villainessa Tittel was a hired killer, an assassin by trade. She had enjoyed the best education and had been trained by assassins who had (until then at least) been considered the best in the business. She had turned to __leaning_ as an occupation because she really enjoyed endings more than beginnings _ and anyway, she didn__ need to know her mark__ entire pedigree or life__ story, or to have some kind of facetious moral justification just to collect her fee. Unsurprisingly, when she did read _ on those rare occasions _ her books were always dog-eared from the back.

Anyways, that very same night there was a fight in the casino on B Deck. Some of the passengers got in a set-to that looked to be more about who was eyeballing whose boyfriend than who had the right to wear the same outfit that two of the ladies appeared to be wearing at the same time. Or possibly, what it was really about was who was wearing said outfit better.

The TSA liked having fresh agents on the job. Fresh agents with a clear mind and steady hand. Time travel wasn__ for the faint of heart. The pay was good though, but as Scrooby had decided long ago, that even if he didn__ get paid for it, the thrill alone was payment enough. Then again, the TSA realized they couldn__ afford to have disgruntled employees with too much time on their hands and the power of the gods at their fingertips, so the pay was very, very good. Debriefing was routine. And how he hated routine! His supervisor was a senior agent called Guy Krummeck, a rather drab character who liked his shiny silver suits almost as much as he liked to go over every little detail at least three times. Minimum. This time everything went right, so it went quick. Twenty minutes later, tired, he clocked out and went home to his small apartment. Tomorrow, after all, was another day again.

Knowledge and education are the key to this human tragedy which is a bonfire of hate fueled by ignorance.

If we refuse to accept knowledge because it frightens us, we will never grow. If we give in to fear, we will never outgrow hatred

It is also aimed at experienced human rights activists who are looking for a handy collection of facts to use in any confrontations online _ or in real life.

16 days of activism? I don't know about you folks, but I'm an activist every single day.

Not many Ruminarii warships had ever been captured intact by any enemy, and so for those the Ruminarii __nvited_ aboard their vessels, this was usually a one-way sight-seeing trip. For those who really want to know, Ruminarii Hammerheads have an extensive corridor network, the interior walls are heavily decorated, savagely militaristic and inevitably, close together. He strode down one. Lesser ranks seeing him, fell to the deck and groveled like their fingernails depended on it. There was a chorus of shrieks and whimpers as he passed. When he arrived on the bridge, everyone was face down on the deck, each endeavoring to grovel lower than the next. Nothing like discipline to keep the crew in its place.

Well_ er -___xpecting a rescue is beyond hope under the circumstances!_ Sam Barthoff, Mayor of Atro City, interrupted grimly, throwing up his hands in hopelessness. __opeless!

They tell us variety is the spice of life - and yet diversity terrifies them.

Human rights protection laws typically come under attack from those who made these laws necessary to begin with.

Those who object to human rights protection laws typically do so because they want to be above those laws.

Just saying "I love you" can mean the difference between nothing and everything. Some people say it while they stab the person they say it to - some say it to the one holding the knife.

South Africa is the only country where an overwhelming majority in complete political control is apparently so threatened by a tiny minority that they need racist affirmative action policies to protect the majority by legislatively excluding the minority totally from the job market.

Tracey hurriedly shut the door behind her to prevent the flames that had been licking hungrily at her caboose all the way down the corridor, from following her inside. Then, almost falling into one of the gravity couches, she hurriedly strapped herself into it before punching the emergency release. She hoped the escape system still worked. It did. The explosive dead-bolts fired, shaking the pod loose, dislodging it from the rapidly disintegrating wreck, just about shaking the crap out of her on its bone-jarring way into the great wide open.

Swallowing, he entered the second code. Then there was a sound like a marble dropping on the floor - bouncing slowly, gradually getting faster as it dropped lower and lower_ The thing was toying with him! Where was it? He strained his hearing, but all was again silent. He wanted to shout and scream obscenities at it, but he fought the impulse. It might not really know his location after all - and that would've led it right to him. It must be coming for him! It must be by the door by now, looking for a way in. Time was running out. He hastily keyed in the third and last code.Death the destroyer never is late!

This isn't a drill, sir!""What d'you mean this isn't a drill?" It couldn't be! It wasn't possible. Things like that only happen in blockbuster sci-fi movies, not in real life!"It's not a drill, sir! This is the real thing! You'd better get up here right away sir! Sir? Sir!"But Commander Ortez was already on his way -- and he was running.When he eventually made his theatrical entrance on the bridge, nothing had happened yet. He wheezed."Well?" He appealed, ready for anything. After that, this had better not be a drill. Or else.