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Dusk settled upon the city of Alkam-Zar. Rays of deep-crimson sunlight flared through the seam of the horizon, casting a fiery glow across the sullen, steel gray clouds. Wind like a mournful cry twisted between the towering husks of buildings both ancient and modern -- all sinking now into decay and history.
Starfleet Ensign Fiona McEwan stood on the edge of a rubble-strewn plaza near the center of the battered metropolis. Alkam-Zar, like many other Tezwan cities, was still smoldering more than two weeks after it had been racked by a shock wave from a Klingon torpedo, which had destroyed a military starport several dozen kilometers away from the urban center.
These people probably thought the base's presence made them safer, McEwan mused. It just made them a target.
Behind the petite, red-haired young officer, a Federation relief team coordinated the distribution of food, clean water, and medicine to local Tezwans, who had lost most of their basic utilities because of the Klingon barrage. The relief group was composed of civilian workers and physicians. McEwan was one of six Starfleet security personnel assigned to protect them. Some relief groups, working in similarly war-torn urban areas around the planet, had been nearly overwhelmed by Tezwan refugees whose suffering and desperation had led to food riots; other groups had been ambushed by Tezwan military insurgents still loyal to the deposed prime minister, Kinchawn.
Today things had been quiet in Alkam-Zar. Most of its people were still in shock. Tezwan adults and children wandered the streets like gangly, looming phantoms. Their feather-manes were pale with dust and matted with neglect, their arm feathers tattered and scorched and stained with blood. Shuffling footsteps crunched across boulevards dusted with shattered glass and pulverized rock. Broken beams of metal crusted with ancient stone had impaled the ground and dotted the thoroughfares and side streets like monuments to a quiet despair.
So far, the Federation's efforts had focused on providing these people with the essentials of survival -- food, water, shelter, and basic medical treatment. Just two days ago the Starfleet Corps of Engineers had arrived, to direct the monumental task of rebuilding this world's ravaged cities.
For her part, McEwan was in no hurry to see the streets swept bare. If a Loyalist ambush were aimed at her squad, she would be grateful for all the cover she could get.
Thirteen more days, she reminded herself. Then I rotate back shipside. She had just begun her two-week deployment to the planet's surface and was already looking forward to her return to the Enterprise. Because she had risked her life during the commando mission that neutralized Tezwa's ground-based antiship artillery, she had been lucky enough to miss the first, grueling two-week rotation. Danilov had told her the reeking, insect-infested carnage in the major cities had left him with nightmares. Seo had described -- in a haunted monotone that made his nauseatingly vivid details all the more unsettling -- a guerrilla ambush in Anara-Zel that killed four security officers from the Republic. Danilov and Seo were frontline veterans of the Dominion War, so McEwan took their warnings seriously.
A keening cry, anguished and beautiful, cut through the heavy hush. Turning toward its source, McEwan looked up, toward the top of a twenty-story building rendered by war into a gutted frame. Standing like an emperor atop the structure was a lone Tezwan singer, his arms flung wide as if to embrace the sky. Nasal and piercing, his voice reverberated off smashed, hollow edifices painted with the dying light of day. McEwan's heart stirred with his projected grief, ached as it grasped the terrible emptiness of his operatic wails.
Without taking her eyes from the singer, she grabbed the sleeve of a young Tezwan boy who was walking past her. Holding him with one hand, she pointed with the other at the singer. "What's he singing?"
Following her gesture with stunned, distant eyes, the boy seemed utterly unmoved by the singer as he answered. "It's a sorrow-song. We sing for the dead."
McEwan stood, transfixed by the singer. His voice was like a majestic wolf cry, despondent beneath a shadowy dome of gray, casting on her an enthralling spell of mourning. The boy pulled away from her, and she let go of him. "Who's he singing for?"
The boy glanced up at the singer. As he turned away, he answered with an ominous emotional flatness, "The world."
She glanced at the boy, who plodded off, his daily ration of Federation emergency nutrition packs tucked under one arm. Then the singer's tune crested, pulling McEwan's eyes back to the top of the tower. For a fleeting moment the singer's voice filled every corner of Alkam-Zar. Then his music dropped away like a dying breath. A faint and tragic note rose and vanished into the heavens, like his soul taking flight. He leaned forward and pitched headfirst off of the building.
McEwan's cry of alarm stuck in her throat as she watched the singer plummet. He neither flailed nor cried out, but fell as if it was his destiny to do so. Empathetic dread swelled inside her as the singer's body accelerated.
He hit the ground with a dull, thick, wet crunch.
McEwan's horrified gasp was tangled up in her choking sobs. Burning tears ran from her eyes.
Fighting to compose herself, she turned slowly back toward the plaza. Behind her, the other Starfleet personnel watched in shock. A civilian woman with the relief team covered her mouth and began to weep. Many other relief workers turned away. A young doctor sprinted across the plaza with a surgical kit in his hand, apparently undeterred by the futility of his impending efforts. A Federation News Service reporter ran after him.
But all McEwan could see were the Tezwans, who continued to wait for their food packets and water rations, oblivious of -- or indifferent to -- the singer's gruesome end. Even more than his suicide, their numb disregard of it frightened her deeply.
Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she counted the days until she could leave this world and never see it again.
Geordi La Forge cinched his parka hood tighter around his face. He hunched his shoulders against the chilly acid rain, which misted, gray and cold, into a blackened and almost perfectly round crater. The circular depression had, until recently, housed one of Tezwa's formidable artillery pieces. A pool of ruddy mud at the pit's bottom grew deeper by the minute.
All around him, once-verdant hills were ragged with skeletonized trees and withering ground foliage. Wafting odors of decaying vegetation tainted the cold, ozone-scented morning air. The catastrophic environmental damage hadn't been caused by the implosion of the nadion-pulse cannon. It was the result of massive quantities of ash, dust, and other toxins hurled into the atmosphere by the retaliatory Klingon bombardment, which had all but annihilated the rank and file of the Tezwan military and obliterated its principal surface installations.
A Starfleet forensic engineering team slogged around the eroding sides of the crater. They scanned the area with tricorders and a variety of specialized devices. Ensign Emily Spitale and Lieutenant Mitchell Obrecht were members of La Forge's staff aboard the Enterprise. The other nine engineers were from the starships Republic, Amargosa, and Musashi. Judging from their long faces and exasperated sighs, La Forge concluded that this search was proving as fruitless as the twenty-nine others they had already conducted during the past week.
He shared their frustration. Mounds of preliminary evidence had suggested that the Tezwans' brutal weapons might have been based on Starfleet technology. Unfortunately, almost nothing had survived the hastily executed Starfleet commando strike. The six firebases and their antimatter reactors, as well as all thirty-six guns, had imploded. The vaporized facilities had left behind little more than their glowing-hot craters, which had taken nearly a week to cool to a temperature safe enough for on-site inspections.
Along with the physical remains of the artillery system itself, other evidence that had been encountered during the strike missions was now lost or out of reach.
Security Chief Christine Vale had reported discovering, as part of the underwater firebase in the Nokalana Sea, a camouflaged iris composed of chimerium -- a rare and restricted material to which only the Federation was known to have access. But when the undersea firebase imploded and sank into the planet's crust, it took the chimerium iris with it, beyond the reach of further analysis.
Assistant Chief Engineer Taurik had shown tremendous foresight in pirating large numbers of encrypted Tezwan military data files from a firebase computer in the Linoka Forest. Immediately after Captain Picard reported the seizure of the evidence, Starfleet Intelligence had exerted its authority and confiscated all copies of the files for its own secret investigation. Two weeks later there still was no word from SI regarding its findings -- or lack thereof.
The best evidence that the artillery system had originated in the Federation had come from acting First Officer Data's positronic memory, which had interfaced directly with the Solasook Firebase computer system. After his allegedly "unstable" performance during the Rashanar incident, however, Starfleet Command had expressed grave reluctance to accept the android's perceptions as incontrovertible evidence.
All of which left La Forge kneeling in the mud, a tricorder in one hand and not a shred of proof in the other.
Spitale deactivated her tricorder and turned toward La Forge. Her shoulders were slumped, her expression blank. "There's nothing here, sir," said the athletic young blonde.
"Maybe not on the surface," La Forge said, studying the scene with his cybernetic eyes. "Run a deep-level -- "
" -- icospectrogram and a dekyon resonance pattern," she said, repeating the instruction he'd issued by rote all week long. "Aye, sir." Reactivating her tricorder, she pivoted away from him and faced down toward the mud pool.
Chasing down one dead end after another aggravated La Forge as much as it did the rest of the team. We all have our duties, he reminded himself. His was to search for evidence that would explain how the Tezwans created their armaments. Data's was to serve as the first officer of the Enterprise during Will Riker's absence. Vale's was to find Riker -- and bring him home in one piece.
La Forge couldn't imagine what Riker must be going through -- or perhaps he simply didn't want to. The first officer had been missing for seventeen days so far; if Kinchawn and his allies were holding him, they had yet to demand a ransom or even acknowledge that they were holding him. Worse than any fear of what might happen to Riker was the simple fact of not knowing.
By nature and training, La Forge lived for hard facts, for answers to riddles, for certainties. Now he had none. With the Enterprise repaired and once again fully operational, he had volunteered to lead the forensic engineering team on Tezwa in order to keep his mind occupied and his fears at bay.
Cycling through another series of tricorder scans, he repeated his silent, reassuring mantra: Vale will find him. He's gonna be all right. She's gonna find him and bring him home.
He wasn't sure he believed that. But he was certain that he couldn't stand not to. Slip-stepping across the interior of the slick crater, he held his tricorder at arm's length and continued running scans. "Just keep looking, folks," he said. "Just keep looking and don't give up."
"Relief Group Four-Sixteen Bravo to any Starfleet vessel! Mayday, we need emergency evac!"
The woman's voice squawked from the cockpit speaker. It sounded distant and flat in the rear compartment of the cramped but still antiseptic-smelling runabout. Tenila huddled with four other recently recruited Tezwan peace-officers-in-training and a quartet of Starfleet security personnel. She clutched her phaser rifle and tensed as the team leader, who sat up front next to the pilot, answered the distress call.
"RG Four-Sixteen Bravo, this is Runabout Cumberland," replied the confident-sounding young officer, a human named Peart. "We're en route, ETA forty-five seconds. Hang on."
The long, blocky craft banked to starboard and accelerated. Peart rose from his seat and strode into the aft compartment. "Check your weapons," he said. "Make sure they're on light stun. As soon as we're on the ground, wait for my order before you do anything." Tenila nodded along with the other Tezwans, then checked her weapon. The four Starfleet personnel seemed totally confident that their weapons were set properly, because they didn't bother to check their settings.
Suddenly anxious at the prospect of leaving the protection of the runabout, Tenila was grimly amused by how much her feelings about the vessels had changed recently. The first time she'd ever seen a Starfleet runabout was only two weeks ago; she had journeyed home to Savola-Cov, one of the great trinae cities, to bury her husband, Sangano, and to place her young son, Neeraj, in her parents' custody for a while. Kneeling in the ashes that surrounded the broken memory-stone of her family's ancestral tava, she had been carving Sangano's name into the rock with a plasma cutter when she'd heard a faint screech tearing across the darkened sky. Looking up from her sacred task with tear-drenched eyes, she'd decided the Starfleet vessel resembled a sinister bird surveying its new domain.
In the days since then, however, she'd learned of the fanaticism of the former Tezwan government -- and how close it had brought her world to suffering wholesale extermination by the Klingon Empire. Realizing the Federation had intervened to save her people, she signed up last week to begin her training as an officer of the law and a defender of the people.
Now she wondered if they might need someone to stay behind and defend the ship. Peart dispelled that fledgling notion with one snapped order: "Everybody -- transport positions."
The away team, as Tenila had been trained to call it, moved to the aft of the runabout. They grouped together beneath its recently installed ten-person transporter device. Despite having already survived the "beaming" process a handful of times as part of her training, she was still not comfortable being atomically disassembled, transmitted as energy, and reassembled. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to not dwell on it.
Glancing out the starboard aft window, she saw the smoking ruins of Kuruk-Tau rising from the river plains like a blackened smile of broken teeth. Architecture from twelve distinct eras of Tezwan history all lay in ruins, epic-scale memorials for one of her world's greatest cities. Once a center of commerce and the arts, it vomited black smoke like a volcano, blotting out the daylight. Its millennia of history had been turned into a fine, carbonized dust that lingered like a shadow over the land.
Piercing a dark wall of ashy smoke, the Cumberland banked again into a swift dive toward a cluster of Tezwan refugees. Several twisting, irregular columns of people had intersected at a point not too far outside the city, to form a group at least a hundred thousand strong. From this altitude the swarming masses resembled an army of insects converging around a tiny morsel. I'm not ready for this, Tenila confessed to herself.
"Look at this," a bald and blue-skinned Starfleet man said to his dark-haired, pointed-eared compatriot. Jabbing a thumb at the view outside the aft window he added, "The Klingons really outdid themselves."
"The damage is extensive," said the pointed-eared one, who Tenila remembered was called a Vulcan. "The city will likely not be salvageable."
Tenila was unsure which she found more infuriating -- the blue one's flippant sarcasm or the Vulcan's dispassionate evaluation of a tragedy unlike anything she had ever witnessed before.
Raising his voice to be heard over the suddenly deafening roar of the Cumberland's engines, the copilot hollered back to the away team, "We've got a lock!"
Peart flashed the man a thumbs-up and said, "Energize!"
Paralysis was the sensation Tenila most strongly associated with molecular transport. Some kind of beam held subjects immobile at the beginning and ending of the cycle. It felt to her like being trapped in an invisible, smothering embrace. Next she became aware of a sudden minuscule gap in her consciousness, which the Starfleet people told her was purely psychosomatic -- "a physical impossibility," one of them had assured her -- but she still felt it all the same, like a miniblackout. Finally, she returned to herself in a tingle of adrenaline, the world reassembling around her, revealing itself in a wash of light and a soft, high-frequency musical drone.
Settling her feet on the dusty ground, she felt relieved to be back on her homeworld. After two weeks living and training aboard the Federation vessel Enterprise, she had almost become accustomed to its higher standard gravity.
Her feeling of relief vanished as she saw the six wounded Federation relief workers sprinting awkwardly away from a massive wall of starving, filthy Tezwan refugees.
Peart's voice cut through the angry clamor of the crowd. "Away team! Firing line!" The away team moved forward and formed a half-circle perimeter around the injured relief workers. Peart lifted his rifle, braced it against his shoulder, and stepped toward the rapidly closing multitude. Hesitantly, Tenila pressed the butt of her own rifle against her left shoulder, then held her ground with the rest of the away team. She thought Peart seemed irrationally bold, given the circumstances. Aiming his weapon's muzzle above the crowd, he fired a warning shot that slowed the stampede. More warning shots issued from the other Starfleet soldiers' rifles.
The blue Starfleet man grabbed one of the relief workers, a young human woman. Her forehead and face were streaked with blood. He spoke sharply to her. "Are you all here?"
"Yes," the woman said, terrified and hyperalert.
The away team's defensive perimeter around the relief workers shrank as the refugees pressed in. Their advance was slower than before and more cautious, but no less relentless.
Rounding up the six relief workers into a tight knot, the blue man motioned four of the Tezwan away-team members to join them. The Cumberland roared overhead, stopped cleanly, and pivoted to face the oncoming crowd, which recoiled.
Tapping his combadge, the blue man yelled over the engine noise, "Leet to Cumberland! Lock on to Khota's signal -- ten to beam up." Stepping away, he lifted his rifle and rejoined the firing line as Tenila's fellow Tezwans beamed up with the rescued relief workers.
Which left Tenila and the five Starfleet security personnel surrounded by a massive throng of hunger-crazed elininae, who were quickly gathering handfuls of large stones.
Glaring ferociously at the wall of raging faces, Peart warned them in a tense voice, "Halt, or we will open fire."
The Tezwan refugees crept forward, a slow wave of menace. Choruses of angry shouts overlapped one another, in several major Tezwan languages. Gradually falling back, the away team stood shoulder-to-shoulder in a tight half-circle, weapons held at shoulder height. Billows of hot yellow dust drifted languidly through the horde, propelled by an ominous, low-howling summer wind.
A transport cycle is five seconds, Tenila reminded herself. Sixty seconds to reset the system. She had no idea how many seconds had passed since the relief workers had been beamed up, but apparently she wasn't the only one growing anxious. Beside her, the blue man muttered to himself, "What's taking so long?"
From somewhere in the midst of the glowering mob, a single stone catapulted forward and ricocheted off Peart's left shoulder. Like a breaking dam, the sky suddenly filled with airborne rocks. Tenila was certain she'd frozen with fear -- until her vision flared white on the other side of a gap in time. She sagged to one knee in the runabout's higher artificial gravity. Already the small vessel was accelerating away.
Peart clapped Tenila's shoulder. "Nice work, but I don't think you're ready to be knighted just yet."
Sometimes he made no sense. "I don't understand," she said.
"Sorry, it's a cultural thing. Knighting...kneeling." He looked frustrated. "Never mind." He turned toward the relief workers. The woman with the bloody forehead was being patched up by Khota. The young Tezwan had proved to be a quick study in the Starfleet first-aid course. Peart said, "Are your people okay?"
"I guess," the woman said. "We tried to keep things organized, but then a group of them demanded our portable replicator. I told them we..." She trailed off and shook her head. "There was no reasoning with them."
"I just don't get it," said another relief worker, a young man whose face was purpled with fat bruises. A clump of his light-colored hair had been torn out, and his nose was broken. "We're trying to help these people. What's wrong with them? Are they crazy or something?"
"Maybe they are," Tenila said angrily, her nape feathers rising. "They just lost their homes, their families have been killed, and they're starving to death. Wouldn't you be crazy?" She was surprised to hear herself defending the actions of the elininae. She knew that Tezwan ethnic differences would likely seem petty to outsiders, but to her, as a trinae, speaking out for her tribe's most bitter rivals felt downright surreal.
The battered young man hung his head sheepishly. No one said anything. She thought maybe she had been too harsh -- after all, he had just suffered a violent attack and only narrowly escaped being killed. The Federation people she had met really did mean well -- they believed in their mission, in laws, and in justice, and in helping people for no other reason than because it was right. That's why she took a chance and believed in them.
But her own world's imploded government had taught her that the individuals of a society and the power they served were not the same thing. No matter how hard she tried to believe that Starfleet's presence on Tezwa was lawful, peaceful, and benign, there was a part of her that could never forget that the Federation and its awesome technology had come to her world as conquerors.
Copyright © 2004 by Paramount Pictures
Posted August 30, 2004
While well written, the book lacked a depth of feeling. One would expect a novel with the Captains' picture on the cover, and by the excerpts on the back, to be about Captain Picard. However, the Captain was a minor character, at best, and most of his role was not true to form.
1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Anonymous
Posted September 5, 2004
Simply one of the darkest, most ethically frightening Star Trek novels in years. The horrors of war, the anguish of being forced to do the wrong thing for the right reason... this is a Star trek book that makes you think. As for a previous reviewer's comment that the book 'lacked a depth of feeling' -- I think we must not have been reading the same book. The sorrow, the bitter anger, the terror of combat, the indignation of betrayal, even Troi's descent into the darker parts of herself ... this is some of the most emotionally intense writing I've seen in a Star trek novel in years. Just because it had Picard's face on the cover, I didn't expect it to be all about him; it was an ensemble piece, which is quite common in Star Trek Books. Besides, who hasn't heard the admonition, 'Don't judge a book by its cover'?
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.This book is a really great addition to an already thrilling series! Now, you do have to be a Trekkie Fan in order to enjoy ANY Trek book, but if you do, you should read this entire series!! It helps you to better understand the smaller story lines inside of the bigger one, while at ther= same time, helping you to get even morer attached to the characters! This book is one of my favorites in the collection.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Anonymous
Posted September 28, 2004
I thought this was one of the best books in this most recent series. It was very well written with imagery that was quite stark. One could not help to see an analogy between The Federation's role with this planet and the current US role in Iraq... I pray the US role ends at least as well.
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subset: commoncrawl


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∅ Offer copies of all documents to the judge (master, referee, etc.), the court reporter, other counsel, other parties.
∅ Authenticate the document.
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∅ Sample cases on authentication
Laura Morgan is a family law consultant in Charlottesville, Virginia, and a member of the Family Advocate Editorial Board.
Published in Family Advocate, Volume 29, No. 3, Winter 2007. © 2007 by the American Bar Association. Reproduced with permission. All rights reserved. This information or any portion thereof may not be copied or disseminated in any form or by any means or stored in an electronic database or retrieval system without the express written consent of the American Bar Association.


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The Best Vancouver Beaches
Vancouver might not be known for its beaches, but in summer the long stretches of sand that fringe the city are a hive of activity. Here's a list of the best spots to sun yourself or take a dip in the Pacific.
Vancouver might not be known for its beaches, but in summer the long stretches of sand that fringe the city are a hive of activity. Here's a list of the best spots to sun yourself or take a dip in the Pacific.
The Adirondacks, Catskills, and Finger Lakes are particularly well known for their wild places, but every region of the state offers something special. Here's where to go to get outdoors in New York state.
Located along the Three Capes Scenic Loop, the small town of Pacific City attracts an increasing number of vacationers. Read more about the area, including the authors' top choice for the nicest place to stay along the loop.
Just a short ferry ride across the harbor from downtown, the Toronto Islands in Lake Ontario are the city's backyard. Learn about the different islands and plan to escape the urban bustle by lounging at the beach, cruising around by bike or kayak, or having a picnic.
North Umpqua is a premier fishing river full of trout and salmon, as well as a source of excitement for white-water rafters who shoot the rapids. Learn more about where to camp when visiting this stunning region, including information on pricing and amenities.
Padre Island National Seashore is undertaking extensive efforts to protect one of the most endangered species of sea turtle, the Kemp's ridley, which nests along its shoreline.
Plan a visit to Playa Matapalo, a beautiful gray-sand beach on the Pacific coast, and the nearby Refugio de Vida Silvestre Ecológico Portalón.
Puerto Vallarta has many gay-friendly establishments and events. This guide for planning your visit includes recommended accommodations, nightlife, and tours, as well as advice on which beach is the place to be.
Traveling along coastal Oregon's Three Capes Scenic Loop? On the road between Cape Meares and Netarts, you'll find the beach house community of Oceanside. Discover where to stay and where to grab a bite.
There are plenty of beaches to enjoy on the Georgia and South Carolina coast—and many of them tend to get much less traffic than more touristy areas. Here's a quick guide to figuring out which beach is best for you.


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2007 Ford Mustang Super GT500 Twin Turbo: 7.890 @ 175.220 EV, Engine: Built 5.4L Aluminum Engine, Turbos: Twin 67mm Precision Turbos
1989 Ford Mustang LX Hatchback 10.5 tire: 8.000 @ 170.000 Marshall Hancock, Engine: 572 ci, Supercharger: n/a Turbos: n/a Tires: M/T
1986 Ford Mustang THE STAMPEEDE BANDIT: 8.013 @ 170.033 Larry Gotreaux, Engine: BBF-ELIMINATOR-460-605ci, by Tims Engines, Denham Springs,, Supercharger: N/A Turbos: N/A Tires: 27x15 GY & 33.5x17x15W-GY-D1
1993 Ford Mustang LX: 8.390 @ 167.870 Lee Howie, Engine: Bennett, Turbos: 1 Precision PT90 Tires: DOT
1987 Ford Mustang coupe: 8.400 @ 162.370 Todd, Engine: 385ci,
1989 Ford Mustang coupe: 8.420 @ 167.000 Ryan Ellington, Engine: sbc 434, Tires: mt 275/60/15 drag radial
1991 Ford Mustang GT: 8.520 @ 172.700 PRO LARRY, Engine: 351W, Supercharger: NA Turbos: NA Tires: NA
1990 Ford Mustang GT: 8.527 @ 172.300 PRO LARRY AND BRANDON G.T, Engine: 351W, Tires: 10.5 SLICK'S
1993 Ford Mustang Cobra 363 Nitrous: 8.541 @ 152.870 CJ Williams, Engine: 363,
2006 Ford Mustang GT: 8.579 @ 158.780 Paul Fercho, Engine: 572 CID big block ford, Supercharger: none Turbos: none Tires: M/T 29.5X10.5WX15 Slicks
1985 Ford Mustang lx: 8.600 @ 159.000 mike pritchard, Engine: 537ci, Tires: 30x13.50 et streets
2005 Ford Mustang GT 281 CI 80mm Turbo: 8.720 @ 155.000 Mark , Engine: 281 CI, Turbos: 80mm
1990 Ford Mustang LX Coupe: 8.780 @ 154.000 Clint Lynch, Engine: 418 windsor, Tires: 28x10.5
1991 Ford Mustang Turbo: 8.800 @ 161.000 Mike, Engine: 306CI, Turbos: Air Research 91mm Tires: 28X13.5X15 ET STREETS.
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Has anyone able to verify your website in google webmaster tools?
I have tried
1.HTML file upload (it was there for sure since clicking on the 'confirm' returns the google site verification correctly, but after click the red verify button. Google says it can't verify)
2.HTML tag
Doesn't work.
I'm using a shared host (but my others 2 sites can verify easily)
Any clue?


text:
Martin George
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Norfolk MP and education minister Elizabeth Truss will lead a delegation of experts to Shanghai to learn how the city topped the 2012 international league tables for maths.
The group will also include Dame Rachel de Souza, chief executive of the Norfolk academy school group the Inspiration Trust.
Shanghai's 15-year-olds topped the 2012 international Pisa tables for maths, while England was ranked in 26th place.
The group will visit three schools at primary and secondary level and teacher training institutes in Shanghai next week, allowing them to study successful methods and potentially adopt them in schools here.
Ms Truss said: "Shanghai is the top-performing part of the world for maths – their children are streets ahead. Shanghai and Singapore have teaching practices and a positive philosophy that make the difference. They have a belief that diligence redeems lack of ability.
For five year-olds:
Xinhua library has received new books at these prices: Animal world 32RMB, storybook 65RMB, colouring book 18RMB, science book 29RMB. Xiao Pang and Xiao Ding bought their favourite books: Xiao Pang spent 32RMB and 29RMB, while Xiao Ding spent 65RMB and 18RMB.
- Which books have they bought?
- Calculate how much money they need to buy the books.
- Who spent the most? How much did s/he spend?
- Which two books would you buy?
- How much would that cost?
For eight-year-olds
- Xiao Ding Ding buys 33RMB worth of sports clothes with 100RMB. He then spends 61RMB on trainers. The store gives him a free pair of socks worth 5RMB. How much does Xiao Ding Ding have left?
- 32 different football teams entered the 2006 World Cup. Every team had 23 football players. How many players in total were entered in the World Cup?
- Newbright clothing store launched a 'Reduce energy' activity. During one month they saved 37 watts. How many watts could they save in one year?
"Our new curriculum has borrowed from theirs because we know it works – early learning of key arithmetic, and a focus on times tables and long division, for instance.
"This visit represents a real opportunity for us to see at first hand the teaching methods that have enabled their young people to achieve so well in maths.
"They also have a can-do attitude to maths, which contrasts with the long-term anti-maths culture that exists here.
"The reality is that unless we change our philosophy, and get better at maths, we will suffer economic decline.
"At the moment our performance in maths is weakening our skills base and threatening our productivity and growth. I am determined to change this."
An analysis by the OECD will show this week that the children of manual workers, including of cleaners, in Shanghai and Singapore do better in maths than the children of highly paid professionals in the UK.
6 comments
Maths at GCSE is largely numeracy and arithmetic. It is a completely different ball game. Theoretical mathematics bears little resemblance to the useful ability to add up and keep accounting books which is largely what the population needs. I do wish these two would actually focus on this and stop trying to boss children and their parents around. Why don't they try and get all children to study music A level, a phenomenally difficult subject, or Chinese, which would enable them to go over to Shanghai and study maths there! My daughter is studying music A level which is way more difficult than maths because she needs the subject. The chance of her needing maths is somewhere below zero.
Monday, February 24, 2014
Barely 15% separates the top 25 countries in the unreliable Pisa survey - sampling discrepancies can mean wild shifts in the table. What's more the China survey is based on Shanghai alone, which excludes many students from its tests because they have migrated there from the countryside. What's with the cult of maths? Didn't the mathematical expertise in the world of banking lead us into the worst recession for a long time?
Sunday, February 23, 2014
I would add too that Norfolk CC undertook a similar trip a few years ago and already has some answers so perhaps Liz Truss and Dame DeSouza could take a taxi trip to Norwich to find out. But of course they won't since they can't stand the lot in power now so we pick up the bill for this trip which has already been undertaken, again at our expense....DISGRACEFUL.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
The answer is very simple......UK parents should stop hating maths; we could teach maths all day everyday as in China, Singapore, Shanghai......; parents could support schools and see education as being most important......etc. Our cultures, aspirations etc are very different and we really don't need expensive trips to Shanghai to prove this. Why Dam DeSouza too......she only represents 7 schs.......all to do with a cosy elite who haven't a clue about education and will doubtless return spouting their usual ill-informed rubbish at our expense.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Why should we believe that these two ladies, riding on a wave of moralistic change, are able to persuade our children that math is cool and necessarry? This another old fashioned perk with lots of chat afterwards. The best thing these two could do for the future of those children entrusted to their care is to stop wasting this energy jetting round the globe, reduce their CO2 household and inspire children by paying good math teachers some decent wages.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
I expect some GCSE students would struggle on those questions.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
The views expressed in the above comments do not necessarily reflect the views of this site


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Dowd on Drinks
News and commentary on wines, spirits and brews from around the world.
Monthly Archive for October, 2011
Beer dinner at Jacob & Anthony's
SARATOGA SPRINGS — Jacob & Anthony's restaurant and the Davidson Brothers brewery are teaming up for a four-course beer dinner. The event is set for 7 p.m. Wednesday, October 26, when seasonal beers from the Glens Falls brewer will be served with each course. Jacob & Anthony's is located at 38 High Rock, adjacent to […]
[Read More]
Latest NY gold rush roundup
Here are the latest competition success stories for New York wines. • New York wineries won six gold, five silver and seven bronze medals in the recent Denver International Wine Competition, where Coyote Moon Vineyards also won a gold and Best Label Series Design for its packaging. Gold medals went to Chateau Frank 2005 Blanc de […]
[Read More]
Show More


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GUELPH — In three months, the face of harness racing will change forever. But nobody really knows what that new face will look like.
March 31 is when the provincial government is ending a relationship that has seen the harness industry run the slot machines at 15 race tracks in exchange for a cut of the revenue. That money, almost $350 million a year, was put back into the industry, primarily through prize money.
Hosting communities also made millions from the slot revenue, with Wellington County and the Township of Centre Wellington receiving roughly $15 million from the program in 10 years.
That's all about to change.
Guelph's Bob Young has been in the harness industry for 44 years and for the first time he has no idea what his future holds.
A well-known owner, breeder and trainer of horses, Young, 58, and thousands like him are holding their breaths.
"Nobody knows what's going to happen," said Young, during a break from exercising his horses on a chilly January morning at First Line Training Centre just outside Guelph.
"Nobody knows how many race dates there will be, what the purse money will be: nothing. But one thing's for sure, it could destroy the industry and the government doesn't seem to care about that."
The harness industry estimates 55,000 jobs are at stake in the province and the trickle down affect has already started.
Stud fees have been slashed and owners are buying fewer horses than before, uncertain if there will be a place for those horses to earn their keep in the near future.
With revenue for the popular Ontario Sire Stakes program for Ontario-bred horses uncertain, Young and others are choosing to breed their horses in the U.S.
Last week, Woodbine Entertainment Group, who operates Woodbine and Mohawk race tracks, announced a 10 per cent reduction in purse money in advance of the looming changes.
Harness racing in Ontario gets 60 per cent of its revenue from the slot money that is expected to disappear at the end of March, although exact details have not yet been determined.
A provincial task force recommended slashing race dates in half to maintain higher purses, but Young sees such a move, along with the government's $50-million "transition" fund as delaying the inevitable.
"A lot of people are going to lose their jobs because of this," Young said.
At Elora's Grand River Raceway, the stakes are high. Reduced prize money, horses and drivers will have a dramatic effect.
"There will be life after March 31, the only question is, what circumstances will we be working in?" said general manager Dr. Ted Clarke. "If it means we have to get by on less, then perhaps so."
Being a not-for-profit entity and having horse racing as part of its mandate should help Grand River survive. But how many races dates, how many races and what the prize money is for those races remains to be seen.
Clarke said Grand River Raceway is following the lead of some other small tracks in the province, looking at working out an agreement with the Ontario Lottery and Gaming Corp. to continue operating its slot machines. There are 240 at the Elora raceway.
That revenue would be a fraction of what the track and community currently make.
"It's on the agenda, but not imminent," Clarke said.
Elora is also in one of 29 zones the province has selected that can apply to host possible full casinos down the road, but the timetable for that selection process and when they would be up and running is another unknown.
"It will be a lot harder for people to make a full-time living in the harness industry, that's for sure," Young said.
A few hours at First Line Training Centre shows the breadth of those who will be affected: owners and drivers exercise horses, a ferrier works on putting new shoes on a Young horse, grooms washing them down and a truck delivers sawdust for the stalls outside. All face an uncertain future.
Bob Young's son Scott, 21, is among those who don't know what's next for them.
An up-and-coming driver, the John F. Ross high school grad is learning his trade on the province's B tracks while catching the odd drive at the big money tracks at Woodbine and Mohawk.
"I'm kind of wondering what the future holds," said Scott, who started jogging his dad's horses on his own when he was 10 years old.
"I love what I do and I want to do it for the rest of my life, but it all depends on what happens after March 31."
He wonders what the future holds for young people and those making their living on the smaller tracks in the province such as Grand River.
"The top drivers, owners and trainers will survive. It's the small guys and the young guys trying to get established at smaller tracks that are in trouble," Scott Young said.
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Great heavens… I imagine this is what we would've got if we crossed Jackson Pollock with a handyman or something.
Having never really experienced abstract art, I can barely make head nor tail out of the whole artwork, but it is truly fascinating to see how multi-layered and unconventional the piece really is.
Can one really see something this out-of-place when we pass on to the next plane?
What's with the fancy patterns on those nails?
I see a ball as well rolling toward it, so are they pins and not nails?
What's with the streaks of shooting stars and flaring rainbows in the background?
There is certainly much to be pleased and puzzled about in this piece, so full credit where it's due Joe. A really fascinating bit of work here.


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Good. The bottom corners are worn and the interior card slots are slightly stretched. There is a noticeable dent on the interior coin pocket.
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Bar bet
A bar bet is a bet made between two patrons at a bar. Bar bets can range from wagers about little-known trivia, such as obscure historical facts, to feats of skill and strength. Some bar bets are intended to trick the other party into losing.
Famous bar bets[edit]
- The annual Midnight Sun baseball game played in Fairbanks, Alaska (the only game to be contested after midnight without the use of artificial lighting) was established in 1906 as the result of a bar bet.[1][2]
- Two of Tony Hawks' books, Round Ireland With A Fridge (ISBN 0-09-186777-0) and Playing The Moldovans At Tennis (ISBN 0-09-187456-4), were written describing Hawks' attempts to win two bar bets.
- The film To Have and Have Not is supposedly the result of bar bet between Ernest Hemingway and Howard Hawks, with Hemingway betting Hawks that Hawks couldn't make a good film from Hemingway's worst novel.[3]
- It is widely believed[according to whom?] that the creation of Scientology was the result of a bar bet between L. Ron Hubbard and Robert A. Heinlein. The story says L. Ron Hubbard dared that he could create a religion all by himself. According to Scientology critic Lindsay[4] this is "definitely not true", no such bet was ever made, it would have been "uncharacteristic of Heinlein" to make such a bet, and "there's no supporting evidence". However, several of Heinlein's autobiographical pieces, as well as biographical pieces written by his wife, claim repeatedly that the bet did indeed occur. Heinlein's novel Stranger in a Strange Land is sometimes claimed to be his attempt at winning the bet.[citation needed]
- A class of Feynman Diagram became known as a Penguin Diagram due to a bar bet between physicists John Ellis and Melissa Franklin.[5]
This section needs additional citations for verification. (May 2014) |
Under contract law, bar bets may or may not be legally binding, and the winning party may have difficulty having a court enforce the bet. A written contract, drawn up soberly the next day and signed by both parties, can avoid doubt.
For example, if one or both parties are intoxicated when the bet is made, they may be found to lack capacity to agree to a contract, and the contract thus found void or voidable.
However, the fact that the agreement is oral but not written does not undermine it: oral contracts are valid, though certain contracts must be written, under the statute of frauds.
This section needs additional citations for verification. (May 2014) |
Trick Bets[edit]
In the UK in particular, bar bets are tricks which the "mark" cannot win. They usually depend upon a condition set in the bet that the mark doesn't notice. Some famous examples:
- The mark is told that a coin of a particular denomination has been made so it cannot be laid on its edge. The trickster offers him a sum of money for any the mark can lay on edge. When the mark succeeds, the trickster grabs the coin and rewards him with the promised sum - which is always less than the value of the grabbed coin.
- The trickster bets a mark who has just bought a drink that he can swallow the drink without touching the glass or using a straw. When the bet is taken, the trickster grabs the drink and swallows it - and hands over the wagered sum, again much less than the value of the drink.
- A darts player is bet by the trickster that he will lose a game, even though offered many advantages, one of which is always that the mark's scores will be doubled. Only when close to finishing does the mark realise that because he started from an odd number (say, 201) he cannot finish on a double (as is traditional in darts) because he always has an odd score as a target. The trickster can continue to play from, say, 1001, but is bound to win eventually.
- A mark is informed that it is possible to push a wine glass through the handle of a pint jar without breaking either. When he accepts the bet, the trickster places the wine glass next to the handle and pokes it with a finger that passes through the handle.
- A mark is told that if he stands in the middle of the floor, by the time the trickster has walked around him three times, the mark will have walked away from the encounter. Various conditions ensuring no violence will be used are given, but when the bet is taken the trickster simply sits down, leaving the mark stranded in the middle of the bar.
- Some bar bets are physical impossibilities rather than word-based tricks, such as that supposedly invented by music hall start Tommy Trinder.
Sometimes collectors of bar bets will battle each other to see which one knows the most tricks. It is a given that each must accept the bet proposed by the other.
- ^ "Midnight Sun Game". Alaska Goldpanners. Archived from the original on 10 December 2005. Retrieved 2005-12-19.
- ^ Williams, Van (2005-06-22). "100 Years of Midnight Baseball Fun in Fairbanks: A 1906 bar bet has turned into a tradition on summer solstice". Anchorage Daily News.
- ^ "To Have and Have Not". The Rake. Retrieved 2005-12-19.
- ^ Don Lindsay. "Non-Scientologist FAQ on "start a religion"". Church of Scientology exposed. Archived from the original on 12 December 2005. Retrieved 2005-12-19.
- ^ "ITEP Lectures in Particle Physics".
Further reading[edit]
- Diamond Jim Tyler (September 2008). Bamboozlers: The Book of Bankable Bar Betchas, Brain Bogglers, Belly Busters & Bewitchery- Volume One. Diamond Jim Productions. ISBN 978-0-9676018-1-6.
- Diamond Jim Tyler (December 2009). Bamboozlers: The Book of Bankable Bar Betchas, Brain Bogglers, Belly Busters & Bewitchery- Volume Two. Diamond Jim Productions. ISBN 978-0-9676018-3-0.
- Diamond Jim Tyler (June 2013). Bamboozlers: The Book of Bankable Bar Betchas, Brain Bogglers, Belly Busters & Bewitchery- Volume Three. Diamond Jim Productions. ISBN 978-0-9676018-5-4.
- Rub Cruit (October 1985). 175 Ways to Win a Free Drink: The Complete Book of Bar Bets. Dodd Mead. ISBN 0-396-08586-5.
- Henny Youngman (1974). Bar bets, bar jokes, bar tricks. Citadel Press. ISBN 0-9676018-1-9.
- Alan Ericksen (1981). Bar games, bets and challenges. Warner Books. ISBN 0-446-90648-4.
- Rich Ferguson (2010). Tricks to Pick Up Chicks: Magic Tricks, Lines, Bets, Scams & Psychology. Ingram. ISBN 1-4505-6018-0.


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Current Version | 3.5.3 |
Author | Identity Finder, LLC |
Price | $25.00 |
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License Type | Trial |
Date Added | Mar 21, 2011 |
Operating Systems |
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