Layover

by | Sep 14, 2006 | Story | 0 comments

Author : Dr. Alexanders

Kevin stared upward at the “Arrivals/Departures” sign in the main concourse of the Europa Delta Interplanetary Spaceport. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. The information didn’t change, not a single number. It read:

IBSF #452

Europa Delta, Jupiter to Gatwick, U.K., Earth

Scheduled Departure: 18:45, Aug. 23, 2159

Scheduled Arrival: 03:22, Aug. 29, 2159

—DELAYED— 83d 13hr 27min

Glancing around the concourse he saw a customer service desk on the other side of a throng of Brazilian tourists. When they didn’t immediately part for him he simply pushed his way through so that when he finally reached the desk he was followed by strings of what he assumed were Portuguese curses and swear words. A slender, blonde woman wearing the standard spaceport uniform took a second to finish whatever she had been typing and then looked up at him with a false smile.

“And how can I help you today, sir?” Her eyes flicked past him for an instant to the Brazilians who were still shouting at him incomprehensibly.

“I think there has been a mistake… my flight, ummm, here’s my ticket; the board over there says that my flight’s going to be over eighty-three days late.” He started to laugh and then stopped when he realized she wasn’t laughing with him. Instead she looked at her computer and his ticket, typed something and faced him once again.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the board is correct. Here at Icarus Budgetary Space Flights we offer flights at a quarter of the price of other space liners by passing on savings to our customers. One of those savings is reduced fuel costs by taking advantage of optimal flight windows and I am afraid that your flight just isn’t going to make this next window due to spaceport congestion.”

“What!? And the next window isn’t for 83 days? I have a meeting in Prague in two weeks!”

“I am sorry, sir, but you booked a flight at our minimal fuel cost price. There is only a ten day window between arrival and departure and today is the last day in that window. I could book you on our premium flight that leaves tomorrow, though it would cost a little bit more.”

Kevin sighed, “Fine… how much?”

The woman checked her screen again, “An upgrade will cost 1,345 credits.”

“But that’s more than four times what I paid for the flight to begin with! I can’t afford that!”

The woman gave him a sympathetic smile, “I am sorry, sir, but there really is nothing else I could do. Can I give you a voucher for a free night in the spaceport hotel?”

Kevin cursed, violently.

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The Great Pervasor

by | Sep 13, 2006 | Story | 0 comments

Author : Phil Jacobsma

The magician known as the Great Pervasor finished his trick with a flourish. As the audience applauded, Anders sat nervously awaiting his cue. He had agreed to be part of the show because he needed the money. He had already missed two car payments, and the bank was threatening to repossess. The magician had offered him $200 to pretend to be an audience volunteer. It would make just one payment, but it would get them off his back for another month.

“For my next illusion, I require a volunteer”, declared the man on the stage. He searched the audience, his eyes finally alighting on Anders. “You, sir” he said, pointing his long black wand, “come down and be a part of the mystery!”

Anders stood, feigning reluctance as the audience applauded their approval. He made his way to the stage, turning to face the bright lights. He noticed he could barely see past the edge of the stage in the glare.

“Now, sir, do not be afraid”, said the Great Pervasor. “There is no danger. I am simply going to make you exit this universe for a short period of time.” He turned toward the audience, grinning. “But I promise I will bring you right back!” Anders heard the audience laughing. Let’s just get this over with, he thought.

The trick went just as Anders had rehearsed it that afternoon. He took a seat in a chair on the left side of the stage. An identical empty chair sat at the right side of the stage. When the magician raised his cloak, a jet of smoke rose from the floor and a trap door opened allowing Anders to drop below the stage. He was to reappear in a moment through another trap door on the other chair.

Anders dropped to the floor, and felt hands on his arms helping him up. He was about to offer his thanks when he gasped in surprise. Holding his arms were two small gray creatures with large black eyes. They appeared to be perfect cliché aliens. Anders wondered if these costumes were part of another of the magician’s tricks. The costumes were amazingly detailed. A third alien walked toward him, holding out a small silver device. Behind this alien, standing under the trap door to the other chair, was a man who looked exactly like Anders! He was even wearing the same clothing as Anders. Just before the charge from the alien weapon hit him, Anders saw his double smile at him and wink.

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Paranoia

by | Sep 12, 2006 | Story

Author : Michael “Freeman” Herbaugh

I know he’s been here. I’ve seen the signs and clues of his passing. It feels like ages since I started waiting for him to show himself. Heh – that’s almost funny, thinking about the relativity of time passing and all this time I’ve been working on Interspatial Time and Chronological Mechanics as they relate to the movement of a body. That is to say time travel.

I’ve been struggling since my doctorate to find the break through, that one formula that’s been on the tip of my tongue for these past few months but can’t seem to get out. I keep thinking that he will show up and give it to me, I know he will, it’s just a question of time.

But, I also think that maybe he is just watching me, amused at my plight of going through what he has surely gone through. He probably thinks “Why should I give it to him when I worked so hard to get it myself?” Or, perhaps, he is just waiting for the right moment that matches when he gave it to himself.

I don’t believe that you can really screw up the linear nature of time. If he were to give me the answer before today it would already have happened and I would remember so it’s got to be coming in the future. I know he’s watching, after all I would. Why won’t he just speak up already?

I guess I will just have to persevere in my research so that, when I am ready, I can become him.

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Water of Life

by | Sep 11, 2006 | Story

Author : Steve Smith, Staff Writer

It had been eighteen years since they’d seen their home world.  Eighteen years since the earth had lain before them vibrant and blue. They had come home, and brought with them the water of life, salvation for a world in need. They’d left a desperate band of men with a mission, journeyed the stars as beggars, then thieves, and ultimately destroyers to return home to be heroes.

‘Orbital control, this is the Lazarus on return approach, we’re inbound heavy looking for our vector, over’

Nothing but silence greeted their request.

Earth was being consumed by a terrible plague when they had left, a plague that destroyed the infected from the inside.  The doctors needed fresh blood, in great quantities in order to transfuse, and to synthesize the antibodies that had been cleaned from their blood through the generations. They had dug up a horrific judgement of a great many years ago, and no one was immune anymore. A disease their ancestors would have thought nothing of now stood to annihilate them to a man.  How far they’d come, and how quickly they’d fallen.

The mission of the Lazarus was to visit the worlds colonized over the generations, to collect blood from the inhabitants of these civilizations the earth had birthed amongst the stars, and to bring it back to save their ancestral home world. The people on these worlds had forgotten who had given them life, and they were reluctant to help when asked to share their blood.  Maybe one in twenty would offer up a litre willingly, but the men on the Lazarus found that everyone had 5 litres to spare if they weren’t given the choice. These roving collectors of the water of life were prepared to sacrifice these insignificant worlds in order to save their home.  They could be colonized again, but the survival of their planet of origin must be assured.

Almost four million litres of blood filled the belly of their ship on its return voyage, three quarter of a million lives sacrificed for the sake of the human race. They had become masters of its retrieval, machines of exsanguination gone mad, but justified in doing gods work, and now they were home.

‘Orbital control, this is the Lazarus, are you reading us?’

The silence mocked the heros return.

‘Orbital control, we’re on an urgent approach, we have no sensory data on proximal traffic, we’re bypassing your authority and dropping into lower earth orbit.’

The Lazarus rolled into its approach, the crew fastened safely in their harnesses as the giant craft burned through the upper atmosphere in a red hot blaze of glory before leveling off to cruise above the planet in the direction of its home landing field.

‘Cheyenne control, this is the Lazarus on return approach.  We’ve cleared the atmosphere and are requesting an airway inbound. Over.’

No signal greeted the pilot, nothing at all.

They slowed and gave up altitude gradually, straining to see through the view ports and scrutinizing the sensors to see what would greet them below. Across Iowa and Nebraska they saw nothing, no life signs, no radio signals, no navigational beacons, nothing but barren ground and silence.

As they reached the border of Wyoming, the radio crackled to life first, followed by a video transmission that filled the view screen.  The crew turned from their tasks and windows to watch a shrunken man, gaunt and lesioned as he cleared his throat and spoke.

‘Lazarus crew. If you are receiving this transmission, I’m afraid you are too late.  The disease has accelerated beyond our ability to contain it, and most of the population of this earth has succumbed. Do not land your craft. Do not take on any material from this earth. The planet must remain in quarantine. This planet has survived the loss of its inhabitants before, it will rise again without us.’

The man paused, eyes closing for moment before taking a breath and continuing.

‘Lazarus crew, the only hope for humanity lies now with the colonies.  You must go to them, help them, protect them, provide transport between them that they may share knowledge and resources and assure the future of the human race. If you are here, then it’s because these colonists gave freely of themselves in order to save us, you must now give back to them in order to save us all. The future of the human race lies in your hands, good luck, and god speed’

As the transmission ended, silence once again filled the cabin. Through this silence everyone onboard could feel the cries of the lives they carried, litre by litre in the belly of the beast that was all that was left of the human race.
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First Contact

by | Sep 10, 2006 | Story

Author : Patricia Stewart

“Commander’s Log, Hyper-light mission Alpha-one, Ship’s chronometer, Day 23,: Commander Adelmann reporting. The Tycho Brahe has completed another uneventful day. We are currently 7.1 light years from Earth. All systems are operating in the green. However, earlier today, during routine maintenance, Lieutenant DeHennis experienced a minor injury while attempting…”

Just then, the ship dropped out of warp, and all systems shut down. The entire ship was pitch-black. Even the independent emergency power did not function. However, there was a barely detectable blue haze visible outside the ship. That’s when Commander Adelmann noticed the menacing looking alien spacecraft floating 50 feet beyond the forward viewing ports. The alien ship launched a grappling cable that slammed into the hull. Almost instantly, the main computer came on-line. A few minutes later, a disembodied voice began to speak over the intercom. “Translating protocol initiated…click…please stand by…click…click…State your system of origin and destination.”

Under the circumstances, Commander Adelmann thought it was best to cooperate. “Uh, Earth. I mean Sol. We’re headed to Tau Ceti.”

“Do you know why your ship was deactivated?”

“Uh, because you wanted to make First Contact?”

“Negative. Your ship was flying at warp 1.1 in a non-designated area, your identification transponder is not functioning, and your warp field is not dampened…click…please stand by…click…click…Sir, Sol is in the Sirius Sector, but this ship is not registered. Please state your Sirius Department of Transportation Pilot Identification Number.”

“Identification Number? I don’t think I have one. This is the first manned mission outside of our solar system. I didn’t know…”

“Sir, are you saying that you are unaware that all warp corridors are either radial, at one degree intervals extending from the galactic black hole, or circumferential, at concentric intervals ten parsec apart? Are you also unaware that transponders are needed to identify and track ships in hyperspace?”

“Warp corridors? Transponders?”

“Sir, you cannot warp randomly around the galaxy. There are 14 quintillion spacecraft registered in this quadrant. If you don’t follow the designated corridors at the specified warp limits, you risk a collision with your fellow travelers, especially if you are not transmitting your spatial spherical coordinates. Surely sir,…click…You didn’t think you were the only one out here, did you?”

“Well…”

“In addition, sir…click…by warping through a non-designated area, you have caused damage to the Cetus amino-acid fields. I’m afraid…click…that your ship will have to be impounded. I will…click…activate you life support and communication systems. You will wait here until a tow-craft comes and takes you to Sirius Station. Your ship will be released when it is brought up to code, properly registered, and all fines and damages are paid. Your passengers can book transportation back to…click…Earth. However, you, sir, will have to be detained. The Magistrate…click…will want to talk with you. Since this is your species first offence, you will probably get…click…probation.”

“Probation? But…”

“I’m sorry, sir. If you have any…click…complaints, you’ll have to take it up with the Magistrate. In the future sir, please use only designated warp corridors, and…click…obey all warp limits…click…click…and sir…click…have a nice day…click.”

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Back From Outer Space

by | Sep 9, 2006 | Story | 0 comments

Author : B.York, Staff Writer

The trick is to never underestimate the power of normal. One has to believe that everyday life can somehow bring wondrous adventures because of its unpredictable nature. If this effort fails in the mind then the heart can never be happy. –Oxford’s Guide to Happiness Amongst the Stars

Javier Marx was trying his best to remember these things from the guide when his shuttle arrived at Newfoundland Spaceport in August. Earth was a blue dot in his memory and he hadn’t been able to shake the idea of returning to settle in a gravity bubble during the last three months of his tour.

“Fourteen years…” He muttered to himself as the re-entry began to flash against the outer hull. Fourteen years had passed since he stopped moving. This would be his final stop at the ripe Earth age of 43. Javier thought silently to himself if this was a mistake. He thought about the multitudes of wonders he had seen and experienced outside of a globe.

Javier wondered about a life he’d have to get used to again. This thought was compounded by artificial gravity shut down as they entered atmosphere. He felt the real push of his weight and almost became sick. Most people couldn’t tell the difference or even notice when one switched to the other. Not Javier. He felt the way the balanced pressure became almost rounded when it switched to natural gravity. It was all he could do to not get ill at the feeling almost as if he despised it.

The shuttle doors opened after arrival and the man from space exited with the other more content humans with nothing but a vac-bag strapped over his shoulder. Bags looked better after being caught in the wake of a meteor. This one had traveled with him for the entirety of his adventures and now to end here at Newfoundland Spaceport.

Masses of people walked around, greeting their families and their friends here. The cries of joy and laughter rang in his ears and yet he preferred one thing to din of it all: the silence of space. His brow was moist with sweat and he could feel his muscles ache from the balance of solid ground.

It was then he glanced up to see his family. His wife and children had all smiles broadening as they recognized his features. They waited just beyond the orbital glass gates to celebrate his arrival.

Javier looked down at the weathered bag and glanced to the shop to his left where he had bought his first. He took a glance back to his wife in a look that turned her smile into a face ready for tears. It could be made out from the movement of her lips that she protested his decision greatly. With a smile he mouthed “I’m sorry” and stepped quickly into the store.

“How much for one of these?” He asked the clerk while pointing to a bag of the exact model as his own on display.

“Fourteen Credits, sir…” The well-dressed clerk smiled as he gladly accepted Javier’s credits, watching him empty the old bag into the new one.

Turning his back on the globe he went for the terminal desk. “One ticket please” he said in confidence to the lady standing behind the computer.

“Your destination, sir?”

Javier smiled to himself, tossing the old bag in the garbage disposal unit next to the desk. The sweat had already begun to subside upon his face as he thought of weightlessness again. “Doesn’t matter… just as long as it’s a journey to somewhere.”

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