by Patricia Stewart | Jun 4, 2010 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
Faced with almost certain defeat, Earth Command committed 70% of its deep space fleet to a last ditch effort to conquer the Arcturian homeworld. But the Arcturians were well prepared, and Earth’s future was looking bleak as the defenders were ripping apart the attacking forces.
***
The bridge of the Starship Saratoga shook violently as an enemy torpedo plowed into its starboard bulkhead. “We’ve lost shields and weapons,” reported the tactical officer.
Reluctantly, the captain was forced to retreat, at least temporarily. “Helm, take us to the other side of the sun.” The Saratoga left formation and streaked away from the battle. And the Arcturians let her go, for now. They’d mop up the scattered remnants of Earth’s fleet when it was convenient. The captain opened the intercom, “Engineering, how long before the weapons are up? The Admiral needs every gun we can give him.”
“Sorry, Captain,” replied the chief engineer, “but he won’t be getting any of our guns. The reactor’s containment field is failing, and I cannot repair it. We only have a few minutes before the warp core explodes. We can save the crew if I jettison the core, or we can take our chances in the escape pods.”
“Based on what I’ve seen of the battle so far, Chief, I don’t think anyone will be around to rescue us, and the Arcturians don’t take prisoners.” The captain racked his brain for options, even bad ones. “Listen, Chief, I have a crazy idea. Do we still have warp drive?”
“Eye, sir, but you’re not going to get very far in 90 seconds.”
“We only need to get as far as the sun. I was thinking about creating a Corbett Prominence.”
“A Corbett Prominence? Ahhh,” replied the Chief Engineer as he realized what the captain was proposing. “Planning to go out with a flare, eh? Well, I like it. But, sir, the Corbett Prominence Theory is just that, a theory. Scientists have never been able to generate one.”
“Well, Chief, they’ve never tried to do it with a Galaxy Class Starship. Helm, put the sun directly between us and the Arcturian homeworld.” The captain rose from his command chair as the Saratoga made a gentle arc to align itself with the sun. “Gentlemen,” he said, “Let’s see if we can cook some Arcturian butt. Maximum warp, Lieutenant.”
The Saratoga leapt into warp drive. The engines became deafening trumpet blasts as the ship’s velocity raced upward. The Saratoga entered the Chromosphere at warp 7.5, and was accelerating past warp 9 when it entered the photosphere. Seconds later, it vaporized, just as it was entering the sun’s core. However, the warp bubble maintained its integrity for a few additional seconds as it burst out the far side of the sun. In the wake of the collapsing bubble, an enormous solar prominence erupted from the surface, its arc extending millions of miles into space. Then, the super prominence snapped, releasing a quintillion tons of plasma in a conical plum headed toward the Arcturian homeworld at nearly the speed of light.
Ten minutes later, the coronal mass ejection impacted the planet, bathing the sunlit side with a lethal dose of ultrahard radiation that instantly exterminated every living thing it its path. Although the Arcturians on the night side of the planet escaped the onslaught of radiation, they helplessly clutched their throats as the fiery plasma blasted their atmosphere into space.
by Patricia Stewart | May 28, 2010 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
The shuttlecraft was careening out of control in the upper atmosphere of an uncolonized Class-M planet orbiting Alpha Mensae. Lieutenant Ashby reached down and touched the control panel to shut off the alarm. “What’s the Manual say we should do now?”
“Who cares?” responded Ensign Tappan. “The Manual told us to stay with the shuttlecraft. Considering that we’re about to be vaporized, it doesn’t seem like its giving us very good advice.”
“Would you rather be floating around in a spacesuit until your oxygen runs out? At least we have a fighting chance in the shuttle.”
Tappan scanned through the index of his hand held electronic Flight Manual, and displayed the recommended actions. “Well, let’s see. Ah, here it is, right after ‘kiss your ass goodbye.’ It says we should remain calm, disengage the autopilot, increase our angle of attack to 25 degrees, and begin executing S-turns to bleed off our forward velocity. Okay, you do that. I’ll modulate the underbelly force field and manage our life support system.”
“Wow, flying manually,” remarked Ashby. “I haven’t done that since my Academy days.” The ship buffeted erratically. “What’s the Manual say about landing?”
“Landing? Aren’t you being optimistic?” Tappan scrolled to the next section and read aloud. “At an altitude of three kilometers, our velocity needs to be approximately 600 kph. Maintain a glide slope of 22 degrees until we are exactly 80 meters above the ground. Then perform a flare maneuver to change our final glide angle to 1.5 degrees. Try to land on a flat patch of snow, sand or dirt. Water is acceptable if we have flotation gear on board, which we don’t. Oh, this is good; it says don’t attempt to land in a mountainous or rocky area.”
Tappan watched nervously as sheets of hot plasma shot upward past the forward viewport. The shuttlecraft came out of its final arc and headed toward a grassy field. Its landing approach had it passing 50 meters above a heavily wooded area. The radiant heat from the shields started a long, narrow forest fire. Ten seconds later, the ship was skidding on the grass. After half a kilometer, it came to a smoldering stop. The cabin began to fill with acrid smoke. Ashby and Tappan unbuckled themselves and scrambled out of the escape hatch.
The two men were standing 100 meters from the shuttlecraft when it erupted into flames. “That’s just wonderful,” said Ashby. “What does the Manual say we should do now?”
Tappan turned his body to block the sun from the viewscreen, “According to the Manual, we need to look for shelter and water. I say we head toward those mountains. Maybe there are some caves and a creek.” Per the Manual instructions, they used a bunch of rocks to create an arrow pointing toward the mountains, so a rescue team, if one ever came, would know where to begin looking for them.
After they walked several kilometers, they spotted a large cloud of dust heading their way, accompanied by the sound of stampeding animals. Ashby used his hand to shade his eyes. “There must be a thousand of them,” he said. “What does…”
“I know, ‘the Manual say’. Oh great. It depends. If they’re herbivores, we run with them and they’ll run around us. If they’re predators, we stand still, and don’t make eye contact. If we’re unsure, it says we should lie down and play dead. With our luck,” he remarked, “they’re probably scavengers looking for corpses.”
by Patricia Stewart | May 21, 2010 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
A small boy sat in his father’s lap staring at the full moon as it rose above the eastern horizon. “Daddy,” he asked, “Where’s mommy?”
The father rested his son’s head against the inside of his right bicep and pointed toward the moon. “See that dark circle. It’s called Mare Crisium. That’s where mommy is. She’s going to become very famous tonight.”
*******
At the Buzz Aldrin Advanced Research Laboratory on the moon, Doctor Julia Hess adjusted the baryogenesis detector for the hundredth time.
“Vill you relax, Julia,” said Doctor Lukyanenko. “It’s going to vork just fine.”
“I hope so, Alexander. Everything hinges on this ‘proof of concept’ transfer attempt. Imagine the consequences; unlimited energy, forever. If we successfully transfer conventional matter to their anti-universe, and we get back an equivalent mass of anti-matter to our universe…” Her voice tailed off as she made a tiny correction to the asymmetric compensator. “I can envision Earth dotted with hundreds of anti-matter power generators within the decade. No more carbon dioxide emissions and no more nuclear waste to deal with.” She took a deep breath to force herself to calm down, and then checked the microscopic particle of osmium on the transfer platform. “The integrity of the containment field is at maximum intensity, and the Alpha Magnetic Spectrometer is ready to verify the matter-anti-matter transfer. Okay, we’re as ready as we’re ever going to be. Signal the anti-Doctor Hess in the Anti-Universe that we’re ready to make the exchange. Have them initiate the transfer at exactly 2100.” Doctor Hess nervously watched the chronometer.
*******
Joe cradled his sleeping son in his arms as he watched the full moon drift higher into the cloudless sky. He wondered how different their lives would be tomorrow, and the days after. There would be parades, holovision appearances, and wealth. Unbelievable wealth. That was a good thing, he concluded. Then again, how would the fame and fortune affect his relationship with Julia? Could he and their son live a normal life after today? He shifted Joey’s weight to ease the numbness in his legs. He noticed his son’s eyelids twitching in the pale moonlight as he entered REM sleep. He wondered what Joey was dreaming about? Then his son’s face became very bright, as if a helicopter searchlight was suddenly shining down on them. He was forced to squint his eyes as the entire back yard was washed in bright light. In horror, Joe tried to look at the moon, but had to divert his eyes. The right hand side of the moon was an intense fireball that was many times brighter than the sun.
by Patricia Stewart | May 11, 2010 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
The alarm of the Olympia Undae Penitentiary snapped warden Jacobs from a deep sleep. He hurried down to the den to access his computer terminal, only to be greeted by a dozen escaped convicts. Jacobs recognized them as members of the Tharsis gang, a group of third and fourth generation settlers known for their sadistic brutality. He glanced at his phaser rifle above the mantel.
“Don’t even think about it Warden,” growled one of the prisoners. “As you can see, we have weapons. Your guards in the armory insisted that we help ourselves. Well, that’s what they would have said if they were alive.” The prisoners broke into laughter.
“You can’t escape,” argued Jacobs. “There’s no place on Mars that you can hide. Surrender now, before things escalate out of control.”
“It’s already too late, Warden. Besides, we don’t plan to stay on Mars. That’s why we came here. You’re going to take us to your ship in orbit, and then to the asteroid belt. We have a standing invitation to join the pirates.”
“I have no intention to take you anywhere. I’ll die first.”
Just then, three convicts marched down the steps dragging the warden’s wife and two children. “I never understood,” stated the lead convict, “why there is a policy to house the warden’s family on prison property, but I’m not complaining. Now, take us to your shuttle.”
Reluctantly, Jacobs lead them to the attached hanger. The shuttle was only designed to hold twelve, but they all crammed in. Jacobs was glad to see that his wife and children were placed in seats. Jacobs sat at the pilot station. He did not delude himself. He knew that it was unlikely that he or his family would survive. If they weren’t shot down by security, they would certainly be killed when they reached the asteroid belt. As he programmed the shuttle for lift off, he committed to a desperate plan.
The lead convict grabbed the radio. “This is the Warden’s shuttle; we have four hostages on board. Stand down, or we’ll start executing the children.” The hanger doors opened and the shuttle lifted off. It was not confronted. The shuttle climbed through the thin Martian atmosphere, and headed toward the harbor in orbit. At an elevation of 100,000 meters, the computer shut down the main engine. The shuttle leveled out and began to fall toward the red Martian surface.
“He’s trying to kill us all,” yelled one of the convicts.
“No, I swear,” pleaded the warden. “Not with my family on board. I don’t know what happened. I can restart the engine as soon as it cools down to 2000K.” When the shuttle dropped to 20,000 meters, Jacobs restarted the engine and pulled back hard on the controls. As he watched the accelerometer climb to 7g’s he strained to keep from passing out. When he leveled the shuttle at 50,000 meters, the convicts were motionless on the deck. His wife and children were unconscious, but still breathing. He activated the radio, “Warden to AUP, the situation is under control. I’m returning to base. Have medical teams standing by.”
The warden helped his family off the shuttle; the children were crying. Armed security guards rushed toward the shuttle. “That won’t be necessary Sergeant. They’re all dead.”
“But how?”
“Simple physiology. My family and I were born on Earth. We’ve only been on Mars for a few months. Those guys are third generation Marsers. They’ve lived at 0.4g all their lives. When I pulled 7g’s on the shuttle, it felt like 17g’s to them. Their weakened bodies couldn’t take it.”
by Patricia Stewart | Apr 29, 2010 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
“Tell me, Mr. Brunner, how did your first date go?”
“Very well, thank you. She was quite pretty. Actually, ‘cute’ would be a more accurate word. She had curly blond hair, crystal-blue eyes, fantastic smile, and dimples.”
“How about her scent? Did you notice if she had a sent?”
“What? Of course not. Why would I smell her?”
“Thank you, Mr. Brunner, that’s all for now. We’ll talk again tomorrow, after we make some adjustments.
***
“Tell me, Mr. Brunner, how did your second date go?”
“Absolutely fantastic. Louisa is a goddess. And I noticed this time. She has a lavender fragrance that drove me wild.”
“Excellent. Have you thought about proposing to her?”
“What? Of course not. We’ve just met.”
“That will be all for today.”
***
“Tell me, Mr. Brunner, how did your latest date go?”
“Doctor Kane, Louisa is the one. I can’t imaging living another day without her. She’s all I think about. I plan to ask her to marry me tonight.”
“Perfect,” replied the doctor. Turning toward his partner, he said, “Well, Dianna, I believe the new formula is ready. I think we can terminate the experiment, and set up a conference with the client.”
“What are you talking about?” inquired Brunner. “What experiment?”
“I guess we can tell you now,” replied Kane. “Louisa doesn’t exist. She’s a virtual person that the computer created so that we can test simulated drugs for the treatment of depression. Ever since 2135, we’re not allowed to use actual people to evaluate the effects of experimental drugs on humans. All of our clinical studies have to be done on simulations.”
“Nooooo,” cried Brunner. “Louisa is real. I know it. I love her.”
“Come, come, Mr. Brunner. You’re not listening? We can’t use real people in these experiments. And that includes you. You’re an android. Your emotional responses are just complicated mathematical algorithms intended to simulate the mental state of depressed humans. And, if we programmed you correctly, you’re about to make Dianna and me very rich.” Kane picked up the control padd and put the android in sleep mode.
“Dammit Tom,” snapped Dianna, “Was that necessary. You didn’t have to tell him. We could have let them get married before ending the simulation. He was in love. You could have given him a happy ending.”
“Dianna, I thought that you were a scientist, not a romantic. He’s just a tool. A means to an end. If you make him real in your mind, you’ll lose your objectivity. It’s all programming; ones and zeros, nothing more.”
“I don’t know,” Dianna replied. “I keep thinking that if it were me, I wouldn’t want to know that I was just a simulation?”
“Well, it’s not you, so let’s drop it.”
“How do you know it’s not us? Maybe we’re creations in a computer too. We could be part of an experiment to test the ethical behavior of research scientists. How can you be sure?”
“I’m sure,” was the curt reply.
“Okay then, let me ask you this. We’ve worked together in this lab for two years. Do you know what perfume I use?”
“What? Of course not. Why would I smell your… Oh crap!”
