by submission | Jan 23, 2011 | Story
Author : Jason Frank
“Space is… so vast, so empty, so cold… anyone who has experienced it must desire confinement, fullness, warmth…”
The Greatest Lover of Space (TGLoS) speaks but the words, filtered through the protective arrays of my specially constructed spacesuit, become little more than a series of data points.
“Early on, I became a starship captain. Some fiction I had enjoyed as a child convinced me, incorrectly as it turned out, that this was the quickest route to love in space. A captain’s life, alas, is not a lover’s life. The responsibility of command proved oppressive (pressing concerns are the enemy of love). There were also the difficulties of managing an entire crew in love with their single captain (chronic in-fighting, zero esprit-de-corps). I gave it all up, I had to. I became more of… a drifter.”
My suit, I realize, does not offer complete protection from the allure of romanticized narrative. Mere content seems unlikely to overpower me, however. I press on. Boldly, I ask TGLoS about one of the more inevitable consequences of love in space: offspring.
“Oh, there have been some, perhaps many. The first that come to mind were the Albuntians. Those I birthed myself, not realizing that the rather invasive love of their species would leave me with a crop of youngsters growing just below the skin of my forearms. While the birthing was an incredibly painful process, it endeared me to the little ones all the more. The Albuntians love only in season and my little ones were born out of season. They left on the first cargo ship out of port. They don’t write but I often wish they would. There are rumors of other children which I cannot be completely sure of, owing to the distortions of space/time. If they do exist, it is likely that one of them will one day take my place as The Greatest Lover of Space.”
Noting these facts, alongside reminders to follow up on some of the rumors mentioned, I ask about any specific experiences, events, or happenings that stand out in the mind of TGLoS.
“Once, for what I was later told was a period of three months (time did not pass for me) I was taken into the living body of an Ilgesian firque. By turns I was partially digested and then rejuvenated. There was something mythical about it all. I imagine that I would still be there had a scruffy group of space poachers not intervened. I didn’t hold their interruption against them and even managed to love two of them before hot-blooded in-fighting claimed them both. I rode back to civilization with their robotic accompaniment, a poacher-bot all but immune to love. Our eventual parting was so poignant that the poor droid’s circuits were entirely blown. It stands at our place of parting even now, a somewhat eternal monument to love.
Having enough data to file my report (and a rapidly depleting suit battery), I thank TGLoS and rise to leave. In doing so, my suit catches on the rough corner of my chair, tearing a small hole. TGLoS is at my side immediately, asking me if I am injured (I had let out a bit of a squeal as the tearing was taking place). I make assurances that I am fine but somehow a lone finger finds its way into the tear, probing gently. My suit compromised, my head already swimming, I cannot help but be loved by The Greatest Lover of Space.
by submission | Jan 22, 2011 | Story
Author : Andrew DiMatteo
I stared out the viewport at the other ships in the fleet. Contact was infrequent – a few transmissions a year, telemetry exchanges, stuff like that. Never my deal since all I did was water plants all day, but we were a fleet, goddammit. It wasn’t fair for them to leave us behind like this.
The cold hard truth: Our velocities weren’t that different, even now. Nevertheless, they were accelerating at a steady one gee and here we were, adrift and off course. Engines and maneuvering rockets destroyed, leaving us stuck at one third c and going nowhere fast. No shuttles left of our own and no other ship willing to risk hers rescuing a derelict. Why waste resources on something better forgotten?
Every few hours I swear I can see the rest of the fleet pulling away, even though I know it can’t be visible yet. For all I know, it’s the meds. I’ve got the med bay all to myself because technically I was the only one injured – everyone else was either pulped instantly or in stasis. Evidently I was sneaking a nap on the crash couch in the garden supply closet when it happened. I had the stasis field at 2/3 strength. Very relaxing.
The docs that came out of stasis after the accident say I shouldn’t take the bandages off anytime soon. Even with most of its inertia gone, the rack of cutting shears did quite a number on me – especially the one that punctured my skull.
The newly woken crew said it was a miracle that the ship wasn’t simply vaporized on impact. They asked me about trying to get the hydroponics back online in case we can coast someplace. I choked back bitter laughter. I can’t remember my own name, let alone plant nutrient balances, but it doesn’t seem worth it to tell them that. Let them think there’s something to live for. I know better.
The gaps in my memory seem like the view outside. Bright sparks separated by cold uncaring emptiness. I can feel that emptiness growing. I can feel the other ships forgetting us, relegating us to the past as we fall further behind. The docs said my memories would come back slowly, but they’re not. I remember less of myself every hour that passes, and they check on me less frequently now – probably accepting the inevitable themselves.
I’m a damn cautionary tale just like our poor ship: Don’t nap next to gardening shears on an interstellar ark. Don’t get lax on collision avoidance maintenance and hit something while doing a good fraction of the speed of light. Simple really.
I notice that the med bay has stations similar to mine set up. The docs must have been disappointed when it turned out I was the only one not needing to be placed in the recycler. I wheel around and grab any syringe that looks the same as my pain meds – one for each ship still out there.
Back at my viewport the lights grow further and further apart. Memories of the last few days swim by and get added to those already lost. Lesson learned. On to greener gardens.
by submission | Jan 20, 2011 | Story
Author : Dan Hope
“Shut it down! SHUT IT DOWN!”
Officer Jepson hovered at a safe distance and watched as the man floated across the landing pad, bobbing up and down, bumping into the guard rail as he slapped frantically at the controls strapped to his forearm. Packs were intentionally hard to turn off–no one wanted to accidentally hit a kill switch while cruising to work at 1000 feet.
“Probably just turned legal and thought he could handle a pack,” Jepson thought. “The new ones are always shaky.”
“Shut it down, sir, or I’ll be forced to assume you’re hostile,” Jepson shouted over the roar of his pack. He wouldn’t, but it was nice to see the new guys squirm.
The unfortunate jumper managed to navigate through the shutdown menu and dropped the last three inches onto the platform. He wasn’t ready to support his weight; his legs buckled and he fell back on his rear, fuel tank clattering on the metal deck.
Jepson swooped in and landed gently on his toes. He tapped out the shutdown sequence from memory without taking his eyes off the man. A few other jumpers gawked as they streamed by on their commute home to backyard landing pads.
“Is everything alright, sir?” Jepson strolled over as the man picked himself up.
“Y-yes officer,” he stammered.
“Where you headed tonight, Mr…” Jepson waited through the awkward silence until the man realized Jepson was looking for a name.
“Oh, uh, it’s Thomson. I’m heading home. Just, um, getting used to this pack. Just got it.”
“Good for you. License and registration, please.”
Thomson’s shaking fingers reached for his display and tapped out the commands to transfer files to Jepson.
“Have any idea how fast you were going?”
Thomson’s head shot up. “Well, uh, I hadn’t checked my airspeed for a few miles officer, but, um, I don’t think I was going over 150.”
Jepson paused longer than needed. “You were going 148.” Thomson let out a sigh of relief.
“You been doing preflight before using your pack? You wouldn’t believe what happens to people. Just had to help clean up a wreck yesterday. Guy’s right thruster failed and the left kept firing. He did some pretty cartwheels right into the 37th floor of the Glandon building.
Jepson suppressed a smile as Thomson’s eyes grew wide.
“You wouldn’t happen to be jumping under the influence, would you Mr. Thomson?”
“No sir, absolutely not!” Thomson blurted.
“You just never know who’s had too much to drink up there. Last week some guy drifted out of the designated flight lane and crashed head-on into some poor commuter. We didn’t even find all the body parts, let alone pieces of their packs.”
Jepson watched Thomson take a nervous glance up at the jumpers scudding by in the afterburner lane. He allowed for another long pause while he stared Thomson down.
Finally, Thomson asked, “D-d-did I do anything wrong, officer?”
Thomson jumped as Jepson barked, “I don’t like jumpers who endanger others, Mr. Thomson. Do you honestly want to pretend you don’t know what you’ve done?”
Jepson leaned in close. Thomson’s pack rattled from his trembling.
“Your bottom left landing indicator light is burned out. Who knows if other jumpers would have seen the right-hand one. Someone could have gotten hurt.” Jepson tapped at his forearm and the display beeped. “I’ve sent out the citation. You be safe, sir.”
Jepson took off, leaving Thomson to collapse onto the platform. Jepson finally permitted himself a smile.
“The new ones are always the most fun.”
by submission | Jan 18, 2011 | Story
Author : N. Thomas Parshall
If I hadn’t made the tran-atomics strike, we couldn’t have afforded the cottage in Coventry. If we couldn’t afford the cottage, we wouldn’t have been docked during the strike. If we hadn’t been docked during the strike, we would have waited to start our family. If we had waited, we would have been destroyed with the rest of Earth Force. So the birth of my daughter saved the rest of my family.
We watched the feeds as the invaders swept aside the efforts of the belters. Our friends and neighbors died two for every one they destroyed, and there was nothing we could do. Time and again, I caught myself about to leave for my singleship to help. Then I would remember that I had rented it to a friend, and I had no way to defend us.
We watched as the invaders came within range of Earth’s primary defenses, and for once were glad that they had been so paranoid of us belters. And we cried when we saw that it wasn’t enough.
The invaders died by the thousands, yet again, but they had enough left to bombard the home planet. Even our simple scopes here in the belt could see the flashes of death on her surface. And still they fought. Missiles left from an unsought war a hundred years ago lifted slowly and locked on to anything in Near Earth Orbit. By then the only things left in that orbit were invaders, and as slow as the missiles were, more invaders died.
I supposed they knew they couldn’t win.
The few hundred invaders that were left turned to flee the system. As they flowed outward along the path of destruction they had wrought, they seemed to have forgotten the rest of the belters on the far side of the system. Weeks had passed and every ship capable waited for them. No invader left the Solar System.
That was a decade ago. Ten years at near light speeds. I know that we learned how to reach these speeds by studying the wreckage of the invaders, but it doesn’t matter. They came for us out of the black, and that is how we will come for them.
Ten years for me, nineteen for you. Daughter, this is why your father had to leave. You saved us once, and now it’s my turn.
by submission | Jan 16, 2011 | Story
Author : J.D. Rice
Discovering how to travel forward in time had been easy. Scientists had been experimenting with the accelerator for decades, perfecting safety limits, performing animal testing, making it ideal for human use. Set a dial, flip a switch, and a human being will be frozen in time until a set date. They even worked it out so you would continue to move along with the Earth through space.
The real trick, we knew, would be traveling backwards through time. Accelerating someone to the point of time freeze was simple enough. It followed the standard rules for relativity. The faster you move, the slower time passes. All we had to figure out was how to remain stationary and safe. But traveling backwards? That was a whole different can of worms. It raised questions about string theory and temporal paradoxes.
They told me it couldn’t be done, not in a thousand lifetimes. So I decided I’d just skip ahead to when it could be done and prove them all wrong.
The process was simple enough. The accelerators were getting ready for commercial use, to freeze people with serious illnesses until a cure could be found, so it was easy enough to procure a testing unit. I took it home, set the dial forward by a thousand years, and hit the switch. Protocol said that when they discovered my body in the accelerator they had to put it in storage until the thousand years were complete. The capsule’s outer shell would protect me from major wars. The external censors would delay my unfreezing if the atmospheric conditions around me were unsafe. Only the destruction of the Earth itself could keep me from waking up.
And so it was that I found myself on this strange new world. I woke up, feeling fresh and excited, and took my first breath of that oxygen-heavy air. The sky was dark, lit only by two pale moons and cluster of unfamiliar stars. The ground had a dusty, copper tint. The only vegetation were twisting, tangling blue vines.
Checking my chronometer, I found that I had been in temporal acceleration for over ten billion years. The Earth must be long gone. Destroyed by our dying Sun. Maybe even destroyed by humanity itself, a thousand years in my future, ten billion years in your past.
You found me disoriented and confused, barely surviving on the bitter fruit growing from those blue vines. Mad with loneliness, I welcomed your assistance with open arms. I’ve subjected myself to your tests. I’ve told you all I know about how I got on your planet. I’ve answered every question you have thought to ask me these last fifteen years. Now please, answer one of mine.
How do I go back in time? How do I get home?
