Task Force

by | Jun 14, 2007 | Story

Author : Patricia Stewart, featured writer

“I’ll take two,” said Joe Ferry, the rookie member of the Preemptive Anti-Criminal Activities Task Force. It was traditional for the elite four-man teams to play poker prior to the start of the shift. It was a way to relax and bond before the mainframe department head handed out their assignments.

“So, Joe, how did your blind date go last night?” inquired the team leader, Mark Robbins. “I’ll take three.”

“Not so good, Sergeant. I thought it was going real well, until I mentioned to her that I work for PACATF. Man, she ran away so fast, I swear I saw her red shift. What’s up with that anyway? We’re the good guys. Why does the public think we’re monsters?”

“That’s easy, Joe. They think we’re spying on them. They think we have a time portal, or something, that looks into the future to see if they do anything illegal. If they do, we arrest them preemptively. Then throw them in jail for crimes they were about to commit.”

“Is that true? I thought our information came from informants, or high tech surveillance equipment? Time machines? Are you sure?”

“Did you really think that we achieved a 99.8% conviction rate using moles and wire taps?”

“I never really thought about it before. I just assumed the mainframe had irrefutable evidence. Is there really a time machine?”

“That’s not our concern, Joe. The mainframe gives us a name and address, and we go pick up the perp. That’s our job. After that, it becomes the judicial system’s problem.”

“Wow. I don’t know if I like that. To be arrested for a crime you might commit.”

“Will commit,” corrected Robbins. “Why do you think the first word in our task force is ‘Preemptive’?”

“There’s got to be hard evidence. Not the word of some computer who says it saw someone commit a crime a year from now. How do we know that’s the true timeline? Maybe it’s an alternate reality. Some other future. Not our future. This is wrong. No wonder they hate us.”

Before Robbins could respond, his communicator signaled. “Listen, kid, we’ll continue this discussion when we get back. In the meantime, keep these accusations to yourself. Understood?” Robbins activated his audio implant to take the call. “Yes sir. I understand sir. Right away sir.”

All four men stood up, and began collecting their gear. “Hold on,” instructed Robbins as he reached into his equipment bag and extracted a pair of wrist restraints. “Joe, you are under arrest for the future destruction of government property. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you will say or do can be used against you…”

___________________
This is your future: Submit your stories to 365 Tomorrows
365 Tomorrows Merchandise: The 365 Tomorrows Store
The 365 Tomorrows Free Podcast: Voices of Tomorrow

USS Dreadnought

by | Jun 11, 2007 | Story

Author : Patricia Stewart, featured writer

Captain Leonard Thompson stood at attention as Admiral Richards’ shuttlecraft docked to the Dreadnought. Moments after the shuttle was secure, the hatch opened, and Admiral Richards stepped over the threshold. “Leonard. It’s good to see you again. How have you been?”

As Captain Thompson reached out to shake hands he replied, “Fantastic, Admiral. Thanks for asking. Well, this is certainly an unexpected surprise, considering our upcoming mission. Central Command did not notify me that you were coming. Is there a problem, sir?”

“No, Leonard. In fact, Command doesn’t know I’m here. This visit is strictly personal. I was on Thaxion V when the Dreadnought was commissioned. And, since you’ll be gone for four years, I was hoping you’d give me the 50 credit tour, off the record, of course?”

Somewhat nervous about an unauthorized guest, but helplessly outranked, Captain Thompson relented. “Aye, Admiral, it would be my pleasure,” he said with a forced smile.

Captain Thompson gave the Admiral more than 50 credits worth of tour. They started at the shuttle bay and worked their way forward through the cargo bays, engine room, armory, sick bay, gymnasium, recreation area, crew’s quarters, battle bridge, main bridge, and finally, two hours later, into the officer’s lounge for coffee.

“Absolutely, fabulous ship, Leonard,” said the Admiral with more than a little envy. “Does it live up to the contractor’s advertising?”

“Mostly, sir. The performance of the ship is exemplary. But, I have to admit, sir, the computer is beginning to get on my nerves.”

“In what way?”

“I’m probably overreacting, sir, but it seems hesitant about obeying certain commands. It seems overly concerned about protocols, etiquette, and political correctness. Last week, I gave it an order, and it replied that it was inappropriate because it might offend some members of the crew. On another occasion it replied that I was putting one ethnic group at more risk than another ethnic group. Frankly, sir, I never even heard of the ethnic groups it was referring too. I’m somewhat apprehensive about proceeding with this mission if I can’t count on the computer following my orders.”

“Ah, O.C.P.C.M.C. (Obsessive Compulsive Politically Correct Main Computer). I’ve run into them before. I can fix it, if you’d like.”

“Please, sir. I would be very grateful.”

He spoke into the air, “Computer, this is Admiral Horatio S. Richards, per the authority of Earth Force Declaration 24532.8, I order you to obey any command given to you by Captain Leonard Thompson, instantly, and without question.” He took a gulp of coffee then said with a wink, “Well, Leonard, that should solve your PCMC problems.”

They finished their coffee, and returned to the shuttle bay. “Well, Leonard, thanks for the tour, and good luck on your mission. Oh, don’t forget, erase the logs. This visit never happened.”

“Aye, sir. As soon as I return to the bridge.” They shook hands, and the Admiral disembarked.

When Captain Thompson returned to the bridge he walked to the forward observation port and watched the Admiral’s shuttle pass by. “Computer, remove all traces of Admiral Richards…” all of Dreadnought’s phasers fired simultaneously at the shuttle, vaporizing it instantly in an explosion of light and ion gas, “…from…the…logs.”

___________________
This is your future: Submit your stories to 365 Tomorrows
365 Tomorrows Merchandise: The 365 Tomorrows Store
The 365 Tomorrows Free Podcast: Voices of Tomorrow

Unexpected Consequences

by | Jun 7, 2007 | Story

Author : Patricia Stewart, featured writer

Roy O’Donnell was working his way down the pre-launch checklist when I decided to make sure the cargo was secure. Normally, we only haul equipment and supplies back and forth between the Vinogradov mining facility on Mars and the supply station on Phobos. But when I entered the cargo hold I saw an android sitting in a steel cage. I turned toward the cockpit and yelled, “Roy, What’s with the android?”

“Beats me,” Roy replied. “It must be a piece of crap. That’s the only reason they go to Phobos.”

It looked functional to me, so I’d thought I’d ask. “What’s up bud? You OK?”

“I am unsure, sir,” it said. “I remember being caught in a plasma arc. It may have affected my positronic brain. When I was rebooted, I failed the ASAT .” (Asimov Safety Assessment Test)

“Oh boy, that’s not good. If that arc messed up the three laws, they’ll have to destroy you. I hope things work out.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I finished checking the cargo, and returned to the cockpit. Roy had completed the pre-flight, and we were cleared to launch. About fifteen minutes into the flight we had a gyrocompass failure, and we lost attitude control. The last thing I remembered was plunging into the Valles Marineris as Roy was trying to regain our angular position.

When I came to, I was lying on the ground, wearing my survival suit, and looking up at the face of that android we were hauling. “What happened? Where’s Roy? Damn, my leg is killing me.”

My short-range radio picked up the android’s transmission, “The ship has crashed, sir. Mister O’Donnell is dead. Your right femur is fractured. I was able to set it before I put you in your survival suit. The long range radio is not functioning. We have no way to contact the mining facility, or Phobos station. I am afraid we are on our own.”

“Well, my friend, if they can’t find me in 4 hours, I’ll run out of oxygen. And that seems pretty unlikely since we’re trapped at the bottom of this canyon.”

“Do not despair, sir. I have performed some calculations, and I believe that I can carry you to the mining facility in approximately seven hours.”

“But I only have four hours of oxygen.”

“I am aware of that, sir, but we also have Mister O’Donnell’s oxygen supply. He no longer requires it. Come, I will help you onto my back.”

I could not believe the speed that android could move, regardless of Mars’ lower gravity. He climbed out of the valley, scrambled over rough terrain, and ran like a gazelle over the plains. My leg throbbed like hell, and I blacked out a few times, but somehow that android managed to keep me on its back. I was down to thirty minutes of oxygen when we entered the airlock of the mining facility.

When I woke up in the recovery room, the android was standing vigil by the bed. “Thanks, man,” I said earnestly. “I’ll never forget this. You saved my life. Well, I guess this sounds awful, but I should also be thankful that Roy died in the crash. Without his oxygen, I would have died for sure.”

“Oh, Mister O’Donnell didn’t die in the crash, sir. I broke his neck. He should not have called me a piece of crap.”

___________________
This is your future: Submit your stories to 365 Tomorrows
365 Tomorrows Merchandise: The 365 Tomorrows Store
The 365 Tomorrows Free Podcast: Voices of Tomorrow
___

Warp Vortex

by | Jun 4, 2007 | Story

Author : Patricia Stewart, featured writer

Professor Murphy carefully reviewed the checklist of the Warp Vortex Generator. In a few minutes, it would be used in an attempt to divert a three kilometer asteroid from striking the Pacific Basin. This impact wasn’t going to be a “civilization destroyer,” but it was estimated that it would kill close to one billion people if it couldn’t be diverted.

The asteroid had been detected six months earlier by the Shoemaker Spacewatch Observatory in Arizona. A few days after its orbit was calculated, scientists from around the world gathered to determine the best method to alter its current path, but no satisfactory solution could be found. The asteroid wasn’t detected early enough to make any significant change to its orbit with the existing technology. That’s when Professor Murphy suggested using his experimental Warp Vortex. The prototype hadn’t actually been tested, but these were desperate times and they required desperate measures.

Murphy’s Warp Vortex had originally been proposed for space vessels. In theory, the generator would distort space-time in such a way that it would simulate a very large gravity well immediately in front of the ship. The ship would subsequently “fall” toward the vortex. However, since the generator was mounted to the ship, the Vortex would also advance. As a consequence, the ship would continue to fall faster and faster as it tried to drop into the ever advancing simulated gravity well. Later, when the Vortex was collapsed, the ship would maintain its forward velocity. Murphy’s current idea was to construct a massive Warp Vortex Generator on the surface of the Moon, at the Armstrong Lunar Base on the Kant Plateau. Then, as the asteroid shot past the Moon toward the Earth, he would generate a 200,000 kilometer wide space-time distortion that would cause the asteroid to whip around the centerline of the newly formed gravity well. When the Vortex was collapsed 30 seconds later, the asteroid would continue harmlessly into space.

“We’re ready, professor,” said an astrotechnician. “The asteroid will be in position in 10 seconds.” Ten seconds later, the computer initiated the Warp Vortex. The lunar base shook violently. Everybody was being tossed around, the lights flickered, and most of the bench-top equipment vibrated off the tables. The module walls groaned in protest, but remained air tight. After 30 seconds, the computer shut down the generator.

“Damn,” announced Murphy, “I didn’t expect there to be a moonquake. It’s lucky we weren’t killed. What’s the trajectory of the asteroid?”

“Tracking stations report that the asteroid is heading out of the ecliptic. It’s going to miss the Earth!” The lunar base erupted into spontaneous cheering and self-congratulatory hugs and handshakes. It wasn’t until one of the engineers, who wanted to look at the asteroid through the viewdome, realized that they had a serious problem. “Professor,” she yelled. “You need to look at this. The Earth is getting larger.”

“What?” The professor, and most of the staff, crammed into the viewdome, or looked out the bulbous wall ports. Sure enough, the Earth was twice its normal size, and growing larger. The professor staggered backward, and collapsed onto a lab stool. He steadied himself on a nearby table, as he brought his trembling left hand to his forehead. “Oops.”

___________________
This is your future: Submit your stories to 365 Tomorrows
365 Tomorrows Merchandise: The 365 Tomorrows Store
The 365 Tomorrows Free Podcast: Voices of Tomorrow

Wishes Ain't for Hoboes

by | May 29, 2007 | Story

Author : Mur Lafferty, featured writer

Cthulhu Bob and Hominy Jack were warming their hands over a barrel one chilly night on Londo 13, right outside of Hazy City, where hoboes were dumped after branding.

Hominy Jack looked up. “Gonna snow.”

Cthulhu Bob squinted into the blackness. His stomach rumbled, distracting him from the weather. “Don’t look like snow.”

Hominy Jack snorted. “Gonna snow.” He pulled back his tattered coat and sweater sleeves to show Bob the brand on his forearm.

“Snowflake. That’s for meteorolon- uh, weather predicting, isn’t it?”

Hominy Jack nodded. “I was Hazy City’s premier meteorologist ten years ago.”

Cthulhu Bob rubbed his hands. They usually didn’t get into pasts. That led to tears and drinking. He looked around and groaned.

“Aw hell. Space Cowgirl.”

She was about as old as Cthulhu Bob, with better teeth than most. She wore a purple scarf regardless of weather. But despite the hobo brand on her forehead – a capital H with a sunburst around it, the last brand anyone received – she always acted superior. But you didn’t turn a hobo away from your fire, so they made room for her.

“Boys,” she said.

“Gonna snow, Space Cowgirl,” Hominy Jack said. “Cthulhu Bob doesn’t believe me, but I got the meteorology brand.” He showed her.

She nodded. “Cold enough to snow. Cold as space, almost.”

Cthluhu Bob rolled his eyes. Some people weren’t just content to live their lot in life. His stomach rumbled again. Space Cowgirl glanced at him.

“So when were you in space, Space Cowgirl?” Hominy Jack asked. “I thought astronauts never fell this low.”

She sniffed and stared into the barrel’s embers. “I’ve never been.”

Cthulhu Bob laughed. “Then why do you call yourself Space Cowgirl?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t go. I said I haven’t been yet.”

“Wishes ain’t for hoboes, Cowgirl,” Cthulhu Bob said, deliberately leaving off the honorific. “Wishes are for people who still have dreams. No astronaut program is gonna take you into space with that brand on your forehead.”

Her hands rose and touched the brand. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll get there. Somehow.”

Hominy Jack just looked impressed. Cthulhu Bob opened his mouth and was about to mock her again, but the entire outskirts lit up around them.

Space Cowgirl looked up, grinning, her mostly-good teeth shining in the bright light coming from the unidentified space ship above them. With her head thrown back, the scarf slipped down and brand underneath her chin was visible for the first time. The eye of Horus. The seer.

Without a word, she sprinted toward the landing craft and up the descending ramp. The alien ship rose into the air and disappeared.

Hominy Jack threw some trash into the barrel. “Huh. I thought we got our names arbitrarily. I like grits.”

Cthulhu Bob felt his hunger, deeper, now, stir within him, and wondered for the first time why Space Cowgirl was so eager to leave Londo 13.

He was just so hungry.

___________________
This is your future: Submit your stories to 365 Tomorrows
365 Tomorrows Merchandise: The 365 Tomorrows Store
The 365 Tomorrows Free Podcast: Voices of Tomorrow