by submission | Jul 21, 2012 | Story |
Author : Dan Whitley
My people called me a fool.
They said it was impossible to leave the surface. That was why no beasts flew through the air. It mattered not if I could imagine a machine that could. My people offered me hollow aphorisms; what goes up must come down.
My people called me a madman.
They said we had degenerated. That was why we could not walk beyond the sky. It mattered not if I could somehow free myself of the surface. My people declared we had become unlike Our Ancestors, and could not survive where They had once tread.
My people called me a heretic.
They said my endeavors were hubris. That was why we did not know how Our Ancestors came here. It mattered not if I could survive Their realm. My people believed attempting to exist as They once did was the worst blasphemy.
I defied my people.
For decades I toiled. I spurned friends and relations as my creation grew with my hopes. I would leave the surface and find the realm of Our Ancestors.
I called my machine a “rocket.”
No one came to witness my launch. My people did not care to watch an old man burn himself on history’s most extravagant funeral pyre. Such was their conviction.
Yet it worked.
I left the ground at an amazing speed, tearing apart the clouds as the glass bubble of my cockpit shot through them up into the sky. The blue faded slowly to black as I gained altitude.
And then, failure.
The last dregs of fuel erupted behind me, shattering my creation and sending me hurtling up and out away from it. I entered free-fall in nothing but my clothes. My canvas parachutes would never debut.
I never cared. As I tumbled through space, I knew I had not reached Th’erth, the realm of Our Ancestors. But They rewarded me in my final moments. I saw beauty in the curve of the world stretched out below me. I heard God in the dead silence of the black beyond. I felt my soul escape in my breath as vacuum tugged at it.
I died in rapture.
by submission | Jul 20, 2012 | Story |
Author : Bob Newbell
The Shallivak landing craft detached itself from its mothership and began its descent into Earth’s atmosphere. Turrox, Subjugator of the Jor’demm Empire, Conqueror of the Rinnt Confederation, Destroyer of the Hegemony of the Hyojexxi Star System, Absolute Monarch of the Shallivak, and owner of a dozen other titles watched the Earth through the windows of the vessel.
“This world will be the crown jewel of the Shallivak Imperium,” said Turrox to no one in particular.
“It is a great prize,” noted Turrox’s chief military adviser, Forlen.
“Forlen,” said Turrox turning to his companion, a veteran of a score of successful campaigns and conquests, “I’m going to handle these humans as I did the Waroon Dynasty on Dremla VII.”
“Ah,” replied Forlen. “I remember it well, Majesty. Under the pretense of establishing a trade agreement, you met publicly with the Supreme Dynast. And then, with your legendary speed and agility, you slew him before his horrified subjects. The Waroon put up almost no resistance to our forces after witnessing Your Majesty’s unanswerable fierceness.”
“And so it will be with these primitive Earthers,” said Turrox.
The vehicle made its approach to the designated landing site, a place the humans called Edwards Air Force Base. Turrox, Forlen, and several other Shallivak donned their encounter suits, entered the ship’s airlock, and waited. At last, the outer hatch opened and a motorized gangway extended itself. Two guards descended and took their positions on either side of the ramp. When they saw the human delegation in the distance, the guards exchanged concerned glances. A few moments later, Turrox and Forlen walked down the ramp. Forlen gasped.
Finally, the Shallivak monarch and his entourage stood before the humans. Or, rather, they stood beneath them. Turrox looked up at the American diplomat who rose over him like a skyscraper. The tallest Shallivak who ever lived might have stood even with the top of the Earth creature’s shoes. Forlen looked back anxiously at the landing craft, fearful that one of the humans might pick it up and walk off with it.
Turrox, Victor of the Battle of Vendicor Prime, Subduer of the Chelminar Alliance, Vanquisher of the Pudraki Dominion, said to the towering Earthling with a meek and nervous voice, “Would a five percent customs duty on imports be acceptable?”
by submission | Jul 19, 2012 | Story |
Author : Darrin Drader
I remember giving her one last kiss as I prepared to step into the elevator that led to the nine-stage rocket.
“Please, don’t do this,” she said. “I love you.”
I remembered laying out in the lawn looking up into the stars of the night sky as a child. I had grown up on a farm, away from the light of the cities. I could see the clusters of stars, and I had always felt drawn to them. So many times I had put myself at this moment in time, getting ready to launch.
“This is what I was born to do,” I said simply. And with that, I had turned and left her, and the planet, forever.
I’d signed up for exploration, but that was before we learned of the others. When their signals reached us, it became clear that they were jealous, petty, greedy, and worst of all, warlike. The idea of welcoming them into galactic society was repugnant. They exploited everything they touched, including each other.
The first five stages of the rocket propelled it out of the atmosphere. Once in space, the next three had sent it moving ever faster toward the edge of the solar system at relativistic speeds. This portion of the journey lasted the longest, and it was the loneliest. I couldn’t help but question whether I’d made the right decision to volunteer to die.
“They’re getting close,” the General had told me. “Despite social, religious, and political forces working against them, they’ve finally unlocked all of the science. It won’t be long now… It’s a hell of a thing to volunteer for, but we’ll remember you. I promise.”
Three weeks of remembering her, our love, and our life that would never be. Three weeks, cut off from the planet because they’d said it would be easiest for everyone if the only communication was an automated confirmation of success or failure.
The faster than light engines had kicked in once the ship had made it far enough away from any of the planets to cause damage to them. This portion of the journey lasted only minutes. Entire solar systems sailed by in the blink of an eye.
They could have sent an unmanned missile to do the job; however, such missiles weren’t able to guide the warhead in manually if the enemy managed to hack the main computer; and this species was far too dangerous to allow even a chance of survival. Given that communication moved at the speed of light, and the kill order was given decades ahead of when this species would likely achieve faster than light travel, it was entirely possible that they were already building their ships. Once our existence had been detected, it would be all over.
The engine cut out inside the orbit of the single moon. The enemy had referred to it as “Earth.” However, what awaited me was not what I expected. Instead of blue oceans and green continents, I saw only brown craters. Even the oceans had boiled away.
My four hands quickly worked the controls to disarm the missile, change the trajectory, and abort the impact. These idiots had destroyed themselves; my sacrifice was unnecessary. I didn’t have to die! I could return to her.
The planet’s gravity captured the vessel and I fell into orbit.
That was when I remembered that this was a one way mission. The faster-than-light engine was spent. They’d said it would be easiest for everyone if the only communication was an automated confirmation of success or failure…
by submission | Jul 15, 2012 | Story |
Author : Sheldon Kent
Stepping out into the street, Stan looked up and closed his eyes as he felt the warm rays of the sun fall upon his face. It’s not as hot here as it is back on Earth, but he liked it that way. It had been nine months since he first arrived on Coson, and it was beginning to feel like home. Though the gravity made his body feel slightly heavier.
However, people on Coson were still prejudiced, they didn’t like his kind. He thought, perhaps, that coming to a different planet would change the way people perceived him. To his dismay, he was wrong. But they weren’t half as bad as the people on Earth.
He played with the name tag that he had been given, glancing briefly at the barcode on the back of his left hand, both of which told people that he was a ‘clone’, a worker, someone’s servant sent to fulfil a task. The thought of it brought a lump to his throat, people could be so hurtful, even if it was simply by the way they looked at him. Little did they know that the barcode and the chip in his brain, limiting his lifespan, would be removed granting him full independence, should his trip to Coson prove a success.
Making his way home to his apartment, he decided to stop for some coffee, a celebratory drink that he had promised himself when he had completed his work. The coffee on Coson, it was said, tasted like no other. The locals had been producing their own coffee beans for at least a hundred years now, and was one of the most sought after beverages in the universe.
It took him a while to drink it. He savoured every moment, as this was his first step on the road to independence, he was going to make it last. He sat outside in the sun, watching people as they passed by, dreaming of what he might do once he was a free man.
He arrived home a little later than usual, taking time to let the feeling of freedom fill him up, till he was almost bursting with excitement. Opening his door, he was welcomed by a man sitting in his chair, he recognized the face straight away.
“Sir, what are you doing here? I was about to send the last piece of my research to you tonight,” said Stan, trying not to sound too alarmed after having been faced with an unexpected visitor in his home.
“It’s ok,” said the man, “I have been more than happy with your work, you have done a marvellous job.”
“Then what do I owe the pleasure, sir?”
“Well, here’s the thing, I was expecting you to be home two hours ago, so that I could spend some more time with you.”
“More time?” said Stan, he did not like the sound of that. He could feel his heart beating through his chest.
“Yes, see, the thing is, I have run out of money, I can’t afford to grant your independence,” said the man, without the slightest tone of regret, “You have exactly two minutes to live.”
Panic filled Stan’s body as he walked towards the window of his apartment. Lost for words he stared out into the city, knowing that this would be the last thing that he would see.
A sharp pain tore through his body, and then he slumped onto the floor.
The man, not caring for the body, took some time to look out of the window, then left.
by submission | Jul 14, 2012 | Story |
Author : Regina Clarke
“Look. Here’s the deal. It’s a no-brainer. I do all the hard work. All you have to do is wait for my signal and then press this button to start the accelerator.”
The old man listening had a worried expression on his face. “What if nothing happens?”
“How long have we known each other?”
“I don’t know. A couple of years, I guess.”
“Have I ever led you wrong before?
The old man twisted his hands together. “I guess not. But we haven’t really done anything together before, not that I can recall.”
“Only because you hesitated, didn’t want to take a chance. You were just afraid all the time, right? Like you are now?”
“I’m cautious, that’s what I am. My wife always said so. It’s a good way to be. Law-abiding and I mind my own business. Only now, with her gone…” The old man ran his hand over his thinning hair and stared for a while at the brown spots that covered the skin on his hands.
“You don’t have to say it. I know,” came the soothing voice of the man next to him, whose pallor held the look of the dead.
“What do you get out of this?” the old man asked.
“Satisfaction. Oh, not just because I see you in a happier place. After all, I’m a businessman, not a charity, right? But it doesn’t end there, no pun intended.”
“What’s that mean? You want me to pay you more, is that what you mean?” Agitation filled the old man’s eyes. “I don’t have any. You’ve got all the money I had left.”
“No! You’re fine. All paid up. What I was just trying to say was about that satisfaction thing. It’s not just about the money. I feel—what’s the word—fulfilled. Know what I mean?”
“I guess.”
“So, ready to start?”
The old man took a deep breath and gave a quick smile to his companion. “Yes, I am. It’s what I want. I’ll wait for your signal. Thank you. For caring about me.”
“It’s what I do, and what…like I said…fulfills me. I’m leaving now. You stay here. Soon as you see the flash we talked about, press the button.”
“It’ll start right away? I’ll see my Mary again?”
“You got it. On the instant.”
“How will it feel?”
“Just what I told you. You won’t feel a thing. Then you’ll see what I promised. Everything will change, believe me.”
The old man stood straighter and smiled again. “I’m ready.”
His companion left the warehouse, closing the heavy metal doors behind him. Moments later a massive flash filled the space. The old man was startled but managed to press the button on the wall in front of him.
Nothing happened. He pressed the button a few more times and then walked over to the large set of doors and with some effort pulled them open. Everything was the same, parking lot, blue sky, cars on the highway. Where was Mary?
“You know, they all ask that—different names but the same idea. I’m sorry. We’re set up for ages forty to fifty. You’re seventy-five. We’re a bit cheaper than the seventy to eighty group. I’m afraid he’s sent you to the wrong place. He always does that. Your Mary is in a different dimension.”
The old man spun around. A young woman with curly auburn hair spoke in a soft voice.
“He took my money! I paid him the full price! He promised me!”
“Yes, he always does that.”
