by submission | Oct 9, 2011 | Story |
Author : S. Alessio Tummolillo
Year 3187
“This is Lieutenant Edge requesting docking permission from the I.S.S.” Aurelius brought his Q-Fighter to zero speed, floating before the massive space station. He focused on the dull stars in the distance.
He thought back to his visit to Earth, where the stars twinkled. He felt a pang in his chest. The intercom sprung to life, “This is the I.S.S., permission granted. Welcome back, Lieutenant.”
Aurelius breathed to himself, “Good to be back.”
He manoeuvred his spacecraft into the green glow of the docking bay and landed it. At the push of the button, the hatch opened and without waiting for a ladder he jumped to the ground.
“Won’t be needing that,” he said to a man rolling a ladder over.
“Yes sir,” the man saluted as Aurelius jogged by.
He reached the command center and as the doors sprung open two guards saluted, dropping their air rifles to their sides.
“At ease, Gentlemen,” Aurelius said as he walked into the room, doors closing behind him. The guards relaxed. The Commander stood at the control panel, staring out the window. He glanced over his shoulder at Aurelius.
“Lieutenant, welcome home! Privates, make your way outside. The Lieutenant and I have things to discuss.”
The doors sprung open again and the Privates left. The door closed.
“Did you find anything in the Hera System?”
“No, Sir.”
“Just as well. I knew if we waited those slimy bastards would slip by. We’ll get ‘em, though.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“On to business. We had a council while you were scouting.”
“Oh, Sir? Whose decision was that?”
“Mine.”
“Without me there? What was it about, Sir?”
“Earth. We’ve decided to…destroy it.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re blowing it up, Son. There’s nothing there but waste, cripples, and very revealing documents about us. We don’t need ‘em, but in the wrong hands…”
“But Sir, what about your wife! My mother! What are you thinking?” Aurelius stood there wide-eyed in shock.
“We can’t bring all those damned cripples here, Son. We gotta let them go.” The Commander had yet to turn around, but in his voice Aurelius heard indifference. No sign of remorse or hesitance.
“When do you plan on destroying it, Sir?”
“Right now. We have the coordinates set. I’m sending the order now.” With deft hands, Aurelius unclipped his air pistol from his waist and aimed it at the Commander’s head.
“Send the order and I’ll kill you,” Aurelius said, his own voice now cold and indifferent.
The Commander stood there, finger just over the intercom, uncertainty as to whether or not Aurelius would actually shoot held his hand.
“You realize if I send this order and you kill me, you’d be parentless.”
“A man willing to kill his wife is no father of mine. Get away from the control panel.”
“OK, Son. Turning around slowly.” The Commander started a slow rotation, but then finished it quickly, drawing his own air pistol and blowing Aurelius’s out of his hand. Aurelius gripped his hand in pain.
“Think you can out-fox your own Father?” The Commander shook his head and turned around and pressed his finger to the intercom.
“Yes Commander?”
“We’re all goo-“
“NO!” Aurelius jumped onto his father, the Commander’s elbow hitting two switches. A soft, pleasant ding rang out, and then a female A.I. voice: “Hyper Drive activated. 10 seconds until departure. 10…9…”
“…Looks like you got what you wanted, Kid,” The Commander stated.
“6…5…”
“Where are we going?”
“3…2..”
“Who knows.”
“…1.”
With a twinkle, the I.S.S. disappeared.
by submission | Oct 8, 2011 | Story |
Author : J.D. Rice
“John, I asked you a question.”
I shake the images from my head as quickly as I can. It can sometimes be hard to concentrate after engaging the interface. For some reason I always thought I’d get used to transitioning in and out like this, but she’s starting to suspect.
“Every time you space out like that I worry that you’re…”
“That I’m what?” I ask, trying my best to look incredulous.
She hesitates before continuing. “That you’re… going somewhere else.”
“You know I’m not,” I reassure her, subtly preparing the interface in my pocket again. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“How can I tell, when you’re~”
A flash of light, and she’s gone. In her place stands a busty blonde in sepia-tone. She tells me her husband is missing. The police have no leads. I’m the only one who can help her. I straighten my fedora and get on the case. Two informant meetings, three firefights, and a dead husband later, and I have that pretty blonde thing in my arms. Case solved. Day saved. Tomorrow a distant, future thing. Her perfume is so sweet.
“~always spacing out like that.”
I shake my head again. Gotta get quicker with this.
“You know I only use the interface sparingly,” I say. “I’m not addict.”
“God, I’m not saying that you are!” she says, for once looking genuinely concerned. “I just don’t like what it does to you. It’s like you’re not even you anymore. You’re someone else. Or lots of people. Or something…”
“Lucy, you know it’s me,” I smile, pressing the main switch again. “I’m John. You have nothing to~”
Flash. The dragon bears down on me, full of elemental rage. I raise my shield, buckle under the force of its breath, feel the heat, smell the smoke. The stream of fire ends for a moment as the dragon takes another breath. I strike, sword meeting scaly flesh. Sparks fly. Blood gushes. The huddled masses exit their smoking huts to thank their hero. Their cheers fill my ears.
“To ah… worry about… milady.”
“Milady?”
“What?” I’m struggling for an objection. “I can’t be chivalrous?”
“This is what I’m talking about, John. Your vocabulary changes daily. It’s not normal! How can I keep up with something like this?”
“You could always come with me from time to time.”
“Where? To your fantasy worlds?” she asks, looking disgusted. “To your 15 seconds of fame? It’s not real, John! How can I live in a world that isn’t real?”
Flash. The zombies amass around the compound. We level round and round into them, but the bullets have no effect. As we continue to fire, the stench of rotting flesh gets stronger and stronger, closer and closer. My left flank falls. The zombies swarm in. My leg gets bitten. My vision starts to fail. My only thought is to spare myself the dishonor of joining the zombie hoards. I put my gun to my mouth and pull the trigger. Before I die, I feel the odd sensation of the discharged ash tickling the back of my throat.
She stares at my blankly. She knows. She’s known all along, I guess.
“That’s it,” she says, standing and gathering her things. “I can’t take this anymore. When you’re ready for a REAL relationship, call me.”
I say nothing as she marches off. I don’t go after her. She’s inconsequential, the empty filler between the thousand adventures I live daily. It looks like I won’t be having her as a partner after all. Maybe I should just create one…
by submission | Oct 2, 2011 | Story |
Author : D’n Russler
“Quick! Someone get Raul some water, he’s nearly finished!”
The Survey team rushed to follow Hallie’s shouted command, as, verging on panic she checked her barely-moving team member’s vital signs.
Yahn, the team’s medic, slowly moistened the dark-haired Hispanic’s lips with water from her canteen as Hallie supported his head. “He’ll be ok, just needs to rehydrate and crash for a week.”
Raul murmured something unintelligible. “Don’t try to talk, Raul,” Hallie murmured. “We’ll get a full report from you when you’re feeling better.”
“No… you have to hear…” Raul struggled to say. “I managed to penetrate the shell of this planet — and…” He coughed, sputtering a bit on the water. “And… I expected caves, or rock, or something, but there was nothing there!”
“What do you mean,” Hallie asked, despite her concern for the explorer.
“We knew the planet was odd, having the size of Neptune, but a mass close to Earth’s. But this…”
They had begun their on-site survey as the end of a 30 light-year journey to the planet that just shouldn’t have been. Circling a white dwarf at a distance of 26 AU’s, the planet had an albedo of over 0.7, nearly twice Earth’s 0.37. It wasn’t till they landed that the reason was revealed: it was an artifact, created by some long-lost civilization.
“We were supposed to explore the low buildings in this grouping,” continued Raul. “Nothing higher than two stories anywhere on the surface, just didn’t make sense for remains of a civilization sophisticated enough to construct an entire planet.”
“And you HAD to open that portal, or door, or whatever it was,” responded Hallie, her frustration clear.
“Well, I *am* an explorer… that’s what we do, we explore!” replied Raul.
Hallie shook her tightly braided tawny mane in annoyance. “Explore, but we don’t stick our noses anywhere we don’t…”
“I opened the portal,” continued Raul, a strange rapture showing on his face. “It seems that they’d built a system of transport tubes inside the planet between points on the surface. Some sort of intercontinental rapid-transit system.”
“So you decided to try it out, eh?”
“No, even I am not that reckless. What I could see of the hollow interior was softly lit, some sort of glowing lines or tubes on the outer surfaces of the transport tubes. But that wasn’t the most shocking part.”
“And that was?”
“It seemed they had designed a planet-wide backup system in case the tubes went down. Everywhere, intertwining, great helixes, connecting every thing to every place. I was aghast when I realized what I was
seeing.”
“You mean –”
Raul’s eyes glazed over, seeing again what he beheld a short time
earlier.
“My god… it’s full of stairs.”
by submission | Oct 1, 2011 | Story |
Author : Joe Russell
Awakened. Confused. Red alert. Hull breach. Life support failing.
Mad scramble. Explosions. Death. Escape hatch.
There is a blur and then for a time nothing. When I awake it is to the vast cold of space. I am alone.
The HUD on the suit displays system information. Seals intact. Distress signal being transmitted.
Oxygen supply at 60%.
I briefly ignite the maneuvering thrusters to turn myself in a circle. I think I am upright, but what does that really mean out here?
I see the ship. I watch her burn.
No. I watch vacuum suck the will to live from her in brief geysers of brilliant flame as the destruction spreads to the volatile gift of life sealed in pressurized canisters.
I breathe in great, gasping, panicking breaths of that same life.
Oxygen supply at 45%.
I try to control my breathing. The more I try, the harder it becomes. I try to make myself not think about breathing. Not thinking about it makes me think about it more. Makes me want it more.
Oxygen supply at 30%.
The ship breaks into massive chunks of debris that drift apart from one another in the sluggish beginning of their eternal journey through infinity. I imagine that I hear the metal rending itself apart in terrible groans of agony.
Oxygen supply at 15%.
I think of the faces pleading with me to make it better. I see the hope they put in me. Their hero. Their savior. Their messiah.
Their Captain.
I think of the woman begging me for the suit. I think of the look on her face when I turn to her with the pistol.
Oxygen supply at 8%.
I say a prayer for the faces. I say a prayer for myself. For what I have done. All I have done.
I think of the seals on the suit. I think of the release valve. I am certain about what I should do. What is right. For the faces. For me.
I don’t.
I close my eyes and devour life as long as I can.
by submission | Sep 30, 2011 | Story |
Author : Damien Krsteski
Just as I made my way next to an older lady on the pew, the general climbed on the stage. All the commotion died down, everyone’s ears eager to hear him speak. After some quieting down, he began, his tone as morose as the weather outside.
“My fellow citizens, in these dire times, know that your leaders are still among you.” Loud cheering greeted the introduction to what I knew would be a well-prepared speech.
“We have endured thus far and rest assured, victory will be ours.” More cheering ensued, to the point where I felt the urge to cup my ears. But I couldn’t, so I joined in, and clapped loudly myself. I found it rather amusing, if not somewhat pathetic.
“It has been seven years since the war began and although we have suffered great loss our spirits haven’t withered the least bit. We’ll rid ourselves of the abomination from the sky,” He pointed upwards and some people including the lady beside me gasped audibly.
Abomination from the sky? Really?
“Those creatures landed on our soil, on our very Earth, drinking our water, polluting our air.”
At around this time I must have dozed off since I can’t recall anything more. I sat there, breathing the stale air of the church, measuring the pauses between each cacophonous cheering of the edgy crowd. The woman seated beside me must have noticed how distracted I was and leaned towards me.
“I lost my oldest sun in the war,” she whispered, the general’s voice echoing all around us. “At the battle of Midland. His captain said he died as a true hero, bringing down a dozen of those slimy scum with him as he went.” She produced a silver medal from her coat pocket. “Two generals drove up to our house to personally hand me this.”
I took it from her hand, trying to feel up the metal but all that skin rendered the attempt futile. I will never get used to those sacs. I handed it back to her, nodded and offered my condolences.
Around that time the general was finishing up with the speech, calling for more endurance, more faith in their country. The time had come. People all over the church stood up, raising their fists in approval. I gave one last look at the crowd, trying to memorize as many faces as I could and savor the moment. With one click of a button the whole scene vanished.
I woke many miles away, rid of human skin but with a horrible migraine. Wrapping one tentacle around my neck, I massaged the spot up and down.
A small inconvenience for a job well done. Get some rest then get on with the next one. Although before I do so, I think thirty-seven skin-sacs deserves a silver medal too. I must remember to mention it to the suits, I’m positive it’ll look great on me.
