Edition 25: Radar Love by P. J. Keuning

flag UKChris is the only woman who works in the Radar Room. While her parents seek her a suitable marriage, Chris looks for an escape. One suitable suitor later, and Chris wonders if the freedom she dreams of may be within reach. SY

I love the Radar Room; I can be alone here. Away from my parents’ constant needling, away from the glares and the whispers behind my back; away from the oppression of doing what is expected. In the Radar Room I am free to be myself.

They only let me work the night shifts because I am not supposed to be here. They can pretend I am not here, cover the shame of a girl doing a man’s job. I pretend there is nothing else, just me and the Radar Room. No expectations, no need for propriety, no pressure to marry.

Just the job and me. The radar is my window to the world outside.

My shift ends when Mr Grumpy arrives.

‘Quiet night, Christine?’

Christine is his label for me; I am just a silly girl in his eyes. I have a label for him, he is Mr Grumpy, but I keep it to myself.

‘Yes.’ I look towards him. ‘Henry, can you please call me Chris?’

‘No girl, I won’t be doing that. It not be a proper name for a girl. It’s bad enough that you’re doing a man’s job, instead of getting yourself married.’

I stare at the radar screen, pretending to check it is clear so I do not have to look into his judgmental eyes. ‘I am not ready to be married.’

‘Not ready? Of course you’re ready. How old are you, seventeen?’

‘Next month.’

‘Well there you go; almost seventeen and you’re not even engaged. They’ll be calling you a spinster soon, if they’re not doing it already.’

They are. My parents have made a point of telling me. I get out of my chair and walk towards the exit without looking up.

Mr Grumpy is not finished. ‘And where do you think you’re going, girl?’

I stop, but do not turn to face him. I know what is coming next. ‘Home. My shift is over.’

‘Then shouldn’t you be getting changed first, girl? Out of your uniform and into some proper clothes?’ Without looking, I know he is pointing to the other door in the room. ‘We made a changin’ room just for you. You should show some gratitude and use it.’

I keep my eyes on the exit. ‘Do you change to go home?’

‘Of course I don’t. But a girl like you shouldn’t be seen around the boat dressed like that.’

I walk out.

There is no way to avoid people as I climb the levels home. As I finish my day most people are starting theirs. They are everywhere—all crowded into this steel city in the sky. A world powered by steam and turbines.

On the lower levels maintenance covers the steel with nice colours, white washed walls and doors painted brown. Touches of green, yellow and red are meant to look like grass and flowers. Blue ceilings pretend to be the sky. They are trying to hide the truth.

On the higher levels the truth of the ship reveals itself. The paint has peeled away and the hard old steel of the air ship Manchester reveals itself.

People stop and look at me passing by, a girl dressed like a man.

I hate their stares, the whispers as I go past, ascending into the heart of the ship. I am a radio room operator. This is what I wear. So, I accept their looks and say nothing.

As I arrive home Father is reading the paper, waiting for breakfast.

‘You know I don’t like you dressed like that.’ He eyes me over his paper.

‘I have come from work.’

‘But dear…’ Mother turns from the bench with Father’s toast. ‘What chance have you got attracting a suitable husband if you walk through the whole ship dressed like that?’

‘I do not walk the whole ship; just from work to home.’

‘Don’t talk to your mother like that.’ Father’s eyes do not leave the paper this time. ‘You have to come up twelve levels. It may as well be the whole ship. They should never have given you that job.’

‘I came first in the exam with a perfect score. The Radar Commander himself said I earned it.’ It is the same thing every morning.

The arrival of The Twins, fortunately, cuts the conversation short. My young little brothers always make a big entrance, pushing each other as they run in. Mother settles them down while Father grumbles and shakes his paper.

We all have toast and jam. The jam is old and runny. It has been five weeks since we last landed for supplies. There is no word when the next stop will be.

Mother catches my eye before I leave the table. ‘Get yourself a good rest now Christine. You need to be up early to put on your best dress for dinner.’

‘Why am I wearing my best dress for dinner?’

Father folds and puts down his paper. ‘I have invited a young man to dinner. Well, he approached me—’

‘Yes! He is from the third level. Imagine that!’ Mother interrupts. ‘So you have to look your best to make a good impression.’

‘He asked about you and is actually interested in the fact that you work,’ adds Father, ‘I really have no idea why. A potential husband from the third level! It would be a real step up for the family.’ Father leans back in his chair, puffing out his chest.

The Twins begin to chant. ‘Chris is getting married, Chris is getting married.’

‘Stop that!’

Another suitor. I do not know if I can face him. I do not want to marry. Well, not just anyone, not someone chosen for me. I want to love and be loved. In the library there are books and books about people in love. Why can’t I find someone to love?

‘Leave your sister be,’ Mother chides the Twins. ‘You be off and get ready for school.’

The two boys bump each other as they scramble out the door. I leave for my room without speaking.


We wait for our guest. I hold my hands in tight fists at my side.

Mother has put me in her favourite dress, the one I hate the most—white and fluffy, a line of pink flowers running from shoulder to hip. The twins squirm under the restraints of bow ties and suspenders. For the occasion of a suitor’s call, Mother and Father have donned their Sunday best. We all stand and wait for the knock until it finally comes.

Father opens the door. In walks the most magnificent looking man I have ever seen. He stands tall, towering over Father, with his broad shoulders and his head held high. Light brown hair adorns it, well kept, with just a hint of a curl. His eyes are blue like the clear sky that I glimpsed the one time I was near a window. My heart races. I am so drawn to those eyes that I almost miss Father introducing me.

‘…and this is my daughter, Christine. Christine, may I introduce Master Maddox Frothingham, the Third.’

‘A pleasure to meet you, Master Frothingham.’

A rare smile from Father shows he is pleased with my immaculate manners. So am I. Those blue eyes!

‘I am very pleased to meet you also, Miss Christine.’ He bows, but keeps those gorgeous eyes on me.

‘Please, call me Chris.’

Father’s smile has left him. ‘Christine, we’ll have none of that. Master Frothingham is a gentleman. Young sir, please forgive my daughter.’

We wait silently for Blue Eyes to respond, but he just smiles.

Finally, Father breaks the silence. ‘Shall we retire to the sitting room?’

No one speaks as we move into the twin’s room, which has been converted to a sitting room. A stern look from Father has his children sitting in our predetermined places. As expected of us, we sit in silence while Father and Blue Eyes make small talk.

‘How is your father, the Wing Commander?’ Father briefly glances at me. ‘I have heard he has been unwell?’

‘He is well. Nothing of concern, just coal dust in his lungs I think.’

‘I must get some men to go over the chutes more thoroughly.’ Father’s cheeks redden.

‘My apologies Mr Bagnott, I had no intention of disparaging your work. In fact, my father regularly comments on how the coal chutes on the Manchester must be the cleanest of any air ship in the sky.’

‘He does?’ The red in Father’s cheeks fades with his smile.

‘Yes, I was actually meaning that my father’s insistence on personally inspecting the turbines on all the steam planes under his command is the problem. It is their cleaning crews who do not do a proper job, not yours, Mr Bagnott.’

‘Well, just between you and me,’ Father’s voice quietens, ‘I have noticed their work isn’t up to standard.’ He smiles and leans back in his chair. ‘I have heard you are now a pilot, the youngest ever? Your father must be very proud.’

‘Yes, I suppose he might. Of course, it is what we expected.’

What they expected? What does a man like this want with someone like me?

Just when I think the twins are about to explode, Mother appears right on cue and calls us to dinner. It is the longest I have ever seen them sit still.

We move into the dining room, converted from the main bedroom, and take our correct places around the table.

I desperately want to talk to Blue Eyes, to find out what kind of man he is, but I must wait for permission, for him to address me first.

‘Chris, I understand you passed the test to work in the Radar Room. You must be very clever.’

I see shock in Mother’s eyes, at his audacity at referring to me in such a familiar way, and the disgust in Father’s, but they say nothing. They would never risk offending such an eligible suitor.

I ignore their looks. ‘It was not all that hard, I just did a little study in the library—’

‘You can read!’ His eyes widen and I see their full glory. ‘Mr Bagnott, I applaud your forward thinking in allowing your daughter to learn letters.’


‘I taught myself.’

‘Yes,’ Father rediscovers his voice, ‘but we did allow it.’

Father is smart, he has worked out what Blue Eyes is after in a bride, and so have I.

He looks at me with those eyes. ‘Self-taught. Very clever.’


Everyone turns to see why Mother called out. The twins, bored with adult conversation, had engaged in a clandestine food fight while we were distracted. Shirts and faces covered with mashed potato, they were now picking pieces off each other and eating it.

‘To the bathroom, right now!’ Mother hustles the twins and Father looks embarrassed as he turns to Blue Eyes.

‘Please forgive my boys,’ Fathers pulls out his hanky and wipes his brow. ‘They are a handful sometimes.’

‘It is perfectly all right Mr Bagnott. Boys will be boys.’

We sit in silence. I cannot speak unless spoken to and Father does not know what to say. So we wait.

‘Tell me, Chris, do you enjoy the view from the Radar Room?’

‘I am afraid there is no view.’

‘But, it is on the first level; there must be windows?’

‘The Radar Commander believes that windows would be a distraction, so they have been boarded up. His office has windows; I have been there once. It was in the morning and all I could see was the blue sky. It was beautiful.’

‘I’m sure you have plenty of windows in your rooms, Mr Frothingham,’ Father interrupts, ‘being on the third level?’

‘Yes, quite so Mr Bagnott.’ His eyes turn towards me. ‘Very large windows. On a clear day you can see everything: the sky, the land, rivers and trees, mountains and valleys and sometimes, when we fly close by, the sea.’ He glances at Father and back at me. ‘Mr Bagnott, would it be too bold of me to invite Chris down to our rooms in two days’ time? We will be landing at Northumberland for coal and supplies. It would be a chance for Chris to see a landing up close. There is even going to be another air ship docking: the Coventry. She is a fine ship, though not as good as ours of course.’

‘Well…’ It is the most surprised I have ever seen Father. ‘Of course. That would be fine, I mean, we’ll have to make arrangements for a—’

‘My mother will be there as chaperon, of course.’

‘Yes, certainly, what time?’

‘In the morning. Chris can come straight from work.’

This time Father is both surprised and shocked.

Before he can say anything Mother returns, straightening her hair and her nerves. ‘Anyone for tea?’

‘My apologies, Mrs Bagnott, but I really must be going, and I am sure Chris must leave soon for work.’

I look at the clock on the wall; I will not even have time to change. I will have to use that change room they made for me.

Blue Eyes excuses himself quickly, too quickly for Father to say anything about the arrangements for my visit in two days. Not that he would anyway. I dash out before he can say anything to me.


I have to get changed out of my uniform at work. I have memorised the way to Blue Eyes’ rooms, but there is no need. His man is waiting for me and escorts me from door to door.

As I walk through the passages, no one looks at me, there are no whispers. A young girl escorted by a man servant is normal, not worth a single glance from those we pass by.

When I enter the Frothingham home all I see are the windows. They cover the far wall, floor to ceiling, numberless panels held together in metal frames. Through the glass I see nothing but sky, beautiful blue sky.

‘Chris, it is wonderful that you made it.’ I notice Blue Eyes for the first time, as he stands from a lounge in the middle of the room and gives a slight bow. ‘May I introduce my mother, Lady Frothingham?’

I see Lady Frothingham, sitting in a high chair opposite the lounge. She nods in my direction, but does not rise or speak. She is the oldest looking woman I have ever seen—not weak old, but old like steel. She sits perfectly straight, hard and unyielding. Her hair grey shines, every strand in place. Her eyes meet mine, unblinking and unwavering. I feel she is examining my very soul and I quickly avert my gaze.

‘It is my genuine pleasure to meet you, Lady Frothingham.’

‘Very good, my dear.’ Her condescending voice makes me even more fearful. ‘My son has invited you to watch the landing, so off you go. I have seen more than enough landings.’ With her dismissal of me she turns her attention to a cup of tea I had not noticed in her lap.

The scenery unfolds as Blues Eyes escorts me towards the windows. Beneath the blue sky, grey rocky hills come into view, skirted by green fields with yellow flowers and a crystal clear stream. I am still many feet from the window, but I cannot bring myself to go any closer. The sights before me are overwhelming.

Blues Eyes looks at me. ‘It is all right, Chris. You are completely safe.’

‘It is just that…’

‘You have never seen anything like this before, I know. But if all my plans work out as I hope, you will need to get used to views like this very quickly.’

I do not reply. The world before me is so immense. I take a few more steps toward the window and soak in the incredible beauty. I have seen pictures of the land before, in library books, but they did nothing to prepare me for this panorama. The texture of the mountains, vivid colours of the land and the vastness of it all. It is beyond anything I could ever imagine.

We stand, in silence. Across to the left is the Coventry and I am fascinated by seeing an air ship from the outside for the first time. It is huge, dominating the landscape around it. The great grey oval of the main ship stretches over the six levels showing, hiding the many levels within. I imagine the Manchester looks much the same.

‘We rule from above.’ Blue Eyes looks down at me and back out the window. ‘Putting England’s twenty largest cities into the sky was the best thing we have ever done. From up here we are in control, we go where we please and take whatever we want.’

He takes my hands. ‘Chris, you are an intelligent girl, which is why I have chosen you. Our family is on the rise. There is a very good chance that I will be the commodore one day and effectively rule this ship. You will give me clever sons to follow in my footsteps.’ I start to speak, but he continues before I can. ‘I am pleased that you are attractive. It does not matter, as it is your intelligence I want for my sons, but it makes things…easier.’

He pauses, but I am speechless. I want to scream ‘No!’ as loud as I can, but I have lost all speech at this awful revelation.

‘It will be hard for you at first, thrust so far above your station. Since you have not had the proper instruction, it will be a disadvantage in the short term, but Mother will tutor you. She is very keen to make you into my perfect wife. You will be spending many hours with her in preparation before our engagement can be announced. You will, of course, have to give up your job at that time. My future wife cannot be improper in such a way.’

Spend hours with Old Steel! Give up my job! My whole world begins to spin around me. Every hope and dream I have has disappeared with a few simple words.

‘I have to leave,’ he continues. ‘There is a tea party with the crew from the Coventry I must attend. My man will escort you home.’

I am barely aware of my polite farewell to Old Steel, of being passed over to Blue Eyes’ man and being lead home. There, I lie in my bed and wonder at my nightmare.


I am still numb as I travel the twelve floors from home to work, letting my legs trudge the familiar path, this morning’s meeting with Blue Eyes still haunting me.

I do not hear Old Grumpy as he makes his usual complaints. I have no idea how long the Morse code has been going before I hear it. I grab for the notepaper to record the message.

<…call me Joe.>

<What is your message Joe?>

<No message, just talk. Are you Chris?>

<How do you know?>

<Met a man at a tea party. He said that I would like you.>

Blue Eyes must have talked to this man from…?

<Are you on the Coventry?>


<This is not allowed.>

<Please don’t tell.>

<This is not safe.>


<What did he say about me?>

<That I would like you.>

We talk all night by short coded messages through the Radar signal, stopping only just before our shift ends. Joe is the night shift worker, like me. However, his father is a Wing Commander, like Blue Eyes. They had met at the tea party before a formal meeting. The meeting was to coordinate a response to an intrusion into English air space by the Dundee, a Scottish air ship. I wonder why Blue Eyes would say anything about me. We agree to talk again.


Today I am to start my tutelage with Old Steel. I must arrive every morning at 08:00, regardless of my shift, and submit to four hours of instruction.

At our first session Old Steel wordlessly hands me a book, Proper Etiquette for Young Wives. After I have read for fifteen minutes the questions from commence.

‘What is the correct way to address a Commander?’

‘Which spoon should be used to stir tea?’

‘When is it acceptable to talk to a male guest at a dinner party?’

I must make sure I have read far enough into the book to know the correct answer. Failure results in a lash from her cane, which she keeps close at all times, the blow landing always where the mark cannot be seen.

After two hours of reading and questioning I am drilled on my every move. How I must walk, sit and stand in the right way and at the right times. How I should talk to men, women, children, and even commoners. Where my eyes should look and how I should use them. It is a nightmare far worse than I has imagined. I do the best I can, knowing it is the only way to avoid Old Steel’s wrath.

The view outside the windows keeps me sane, with each day offering a different landscape, new sights and new colours, but the same moving beauty.

Each night Joe and I talk when we can. Both our ships are chasing down the Dundee, so we stay close enough for the Morse code to reach through the radar signals. We talk about many things.

< Do you read?> I send.


<What books?>

<Science. History. You?>


<I like stories too.>

<Have a favourite?>

However, most often we just talk about the sky.

<You have seen it from outside?> I ask one night.


<Tell me about it.>

< It covers everything. On a clear day it feels endless.>

<I like clouds> I tell Joe.

<Why? Clouds mean storms, rain.>

<No. White clouds. Ones you can just see.>

<Night is best.> Joe continues: <Night is when you see the stars.>

I have never seen stars. Joe tries his best to explain what makes white spots on a black sky beautiful, but I cannot see it. I am sure that it is the code that makes it hard. I imagine that if Joe could speak to me, if I could hear his words, I would understand.

My life is a strange duality: by day damnation; at night redemption. However, I know that soon these nights will come to an end. We will catch The Dundee and we will go our separate ways. I will marry Blue Eyes and the life I know now will be gone forever.

After two whole weeks of this mad cycle, I begin to wish for it all to end. I imagine a world where Joe and I are together. I dream of the green valleys and the stone grey hills I see each day from Old Steel’s window. I imagine living under the sky, always seeing white clouds and stars at night, and I know what I must do.

<What will happen when we win?> I ask.

<Go our separate ways.>

<Before that?>

<We’ll land and have a victory ball.>

Just what I thought. <Will you be there?>

<Yes, father will insist.>

<We could run away.>


<Sneak away, live on the land.>


It takes some time, but I bring Joe around. It is not hard; he seems to hate his life almost as much as do I mine. Also, I think he is starting to feel for me as I feel for him. So we make plans and dream dreams of freedom. As the time comes close I must convince Blue Eyes to take me to the ball.

He comes in near the end of one of my teaching times. I give him one of the fetching looks Old Steel has been drilling into me, and it works.

‘My dear Chris, what can I do for you?’

‘My lord, you are too kind.’ I make one of my practiced courtesies.

‘So there is something you want.’

‘Nothing my lord, it is just that I have heard there is to be a ball, after we vanquish those terrible Scots.’

He stares at me, looking me up and down. ‘Mother, is she ready for a ball?’

Now it is Old Steel who looks me over. It takes all my will not to cringe under her scrutiny.

‘It would be a good test for her.’ Old Steel lifts her hand to her chin. ‘One I think she will pass. Despite my initial misgivings, you have chosen your wife very well.’

Blue Eyes walks over to me, and then around me, until he is right in front of me. I wonder how I could have ever thought him beautiful. Even his blue eyes no longer hold any attraction for me. They are cold; nothing like the sky.

‘You know,’ Old Steel addresses me, ‘once seen with my son, you can no longer work in that Radar Room. You will no longer be Chris, the silly girl child; you will be Christina, the future wife of a Frothingham.’

Blue Eyes gives me a smile. ‘Do not worry; I will still call you Chris. It will be my pet name for you when we are alone.’

I flutter my eyes, as I have been so carefully tutored to do, to hide my fear and disgust. ‘You could announce our engagement at the ball.’

Blue Eyes walks over beside his mother, and they both look at me. ‘Yes, that would be an excellent time. Clever thinking.’

Old Steel looks at her son as she speaks. ‘You can go now, young lady. Tomorrow we will start preparing you for the ball.’


The attack on the Dundee starts before dawn, while I am still on duty. However, I am not alone. The Radar Room, and surrounding offices, are full of people. They are there to catch news of the battle.

The Commodore takes the prime spot over the radar, the only means to see the battle. Next to him is the Wing Commander, Blue Eyes’ father. It is the first time I have seen him in person. If he knows that I am about to be engaged to his son, he does not show it.

Although I have been pushed aside I can still see the radar screen. It is half covered by the oval shapes of the two other air ships. Dotted around are the dozens of tiny blips that are the steam planes. As the tiny blips weave around the screen I lose track of which ones are ours and which are theirs.

The Commodore and those around him speak like they can tell, but I doubt it. Some of the blips disappear and it hits me: one of those blips is Blue Eyes. He could die. I find the idea of him dying kind of pleasant, but without him I have no reason to be at the ball, no way to meet Joe and no means of escape. I now watch with new intensity, listen to the conversations, hoping that we win quickly and that Blue Eyes will come back.

Mr Grumpy arrives for his shift in all the confusion. He tries to tell me to leave, that my shift is over. He starts to raise his voice when I refuse to move. A quick glance from the Radar Commander, who is standing behind the Commodore, shuts him up.

Suddenly, it is all over. The large oval shape of The Dundee disappears from the radar. It has been forced down. The small blips of our steam planes turn and head for home.

Everyone rushes to the hangers to congratulate the pilots. I attend for one reason. I need to know if Blue Eyes is alive.

He is.


During my last lesson with Old Steel I can see the preparations being made for the ball. It will to be outdoors in a large field between the two air ships. Hoping that Old Steel does not notice, I search the field to find a landmark I can describe to Joe, a spot from where we could make our escape. I spy an old twisted tree at the far end of the field from where the main platform. Tonight Joe and I will make our final plans for escape. Tonight will be my last night in the Radar Room.

I have never told Joe about my relationship to Blue Eyes. He does not know how I have arranged to come to the ball. I do not tell him that I want us to meet one hour into the ball because the announcement of my engagement to Blue Eyes is planned at two. I suspect that he wants to ask me more, as I want to ask him, but the limitation of the Morse code restricts what we can say. We say just enough to plan our escape.


As I leave the Manchester for the ball, I look to the sky. Seeing stars for the first time, I now know why Joe loves them. I could never find the words to describe their beauty but I am sure Joe can and I cannot wait to hear them.

I arrive at the ball, escorted by Father, wearing a dress selected for me by Old Steel. It is magnificent. All blue, like the sky; simple, but with delicate pattern that reminds me of light clouds on an almost clear day.

It draws the attention of all the ladies present. I can see them staring and whispering. My dress says I am someone important, but they do not know me or where I come from. I am such a mystery that none of them come near. I am happy with that.

I see Blue Eyes standing with his father. They are talking with the Wing Commander from The Coventry, Joe’s father. Next to him is a girl of about my age. Joe never mentioned a sister. I look for him, but no one nearby looks right, like the son of a Wing Commander.


I wait at the tree for Joe. His sister walks towards me; my heart begins to race.

‘Where is Joe? Did he send you?’

She stops and stares at me.

‘I am Chris. You are Joe’s sister right?’ I pause. ‘Has something gone wrong?’

‘I am Joe.’ A tear runs down her cheek.

I am unable to speak. How could I not have known? It is so obvious now, as she stands before me.

‘I do not know what to say,’ Joe whispers.

My voice comes back to me. ‘Neither do I.’

We stand there in silence until I can no longer take it. ‘How did you get your job Josephine? It is Josephine?’

‘Yes, it is.’ She wipes away a stray tear, looking back towards the ball. ‘My father used his influence so he could keep me off his back until he found me a proper husband. And you?’

‘One time in the library there was sign asking for applicants. I think they let me sit the exam because they knew I would fail. When I achieved a perfect score, the Radar Commander insisted I be given the job.’

We both fall silent again. Joe looks everywhere but at me.

Joe speaks first this time. ‘My father believes he has found me a husband. One of our pilots shot down two enemy planes and caused the significant damage that forced the Dundee to land.’

I give an understanding nod. ‘The son of our Wing Commander sees me as prime stock to give him clever sons. Our engagement is being announced tonight.’

She takes my hands and tries to catch my eyes. ‘We could still run away.’

‘Would we be safe?’

Joe looks straight at the ground. ‘We would likely be captured by some village and forced to marry. Or worse.’


‘I overheard my father once. There have been women who have run away. By the time they are found, they are dead or would be better off that way.’

Neither of us knows what to say.

‘What do we do?’

Joe’s expression is anguished. ‘You marry your man who wants clever children and I marry the pilot.’

I know what she is saying is true, but I do not want to face it.

I try to meet her eyes. ‘I fell in love with you.’

‘When you thought I was a man.’

It cannot end like this.

‘I must bid you farewell.’ Josephine holds out her hand.

I take it. ‘Before you go, I have one thing to ask of you.’

‘Yes?’ Our eyes meet.

‘Allow me one last memory of my own to live by.’

Twining my fingers in hers, I step forward, my face close to hers. I wait, looking into her eyes, until she nods ever so imperceptibly.

Beneath the stars, I give away the only love I would ever choose.

PJ Keuning

For others turning 50 means changing jobs, buying fast cars and chasing young women. For Rick it meant changing jobs, moving to Woy Woy (on the NSW Central Coast) and trying to start a writing career as P J Keuning. Rick’s wife and three children think his choice of mid-life crisis is a good one. Two year later the crisis continues. Rick’s name is actually Patrick, but he is still Rick. You can follow Rick’s writing adventures at http://the-rick-blog.blogspot.com.au/. Like him on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/RickKeuningWriter


About Gerry Huntman

spec-fic writer and publisher

Posted on February 29, 2016, in Edition and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. Reblogged this on pjkeuning and commented:
    Please read, I think you’ll like it.

  2. I’m not really a sci fi/spec fic fan but I enjoyed Rick’s story – plausible with a nice twist at the end.

  1. Pingback: Edition 25: Radar Love by P. J. Keuning | pjkeuning

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