by submission | Nov 2, 2019 | Story |
Author: Glenn Leung
The wail of sirens grew louder as I ran towards the control room. We had drilled for this at least a hundred times in the past year, and I had hoped this was yet another drill. The image on the Heads-Up Display said otherwise.
‘Comet inbound for Artemis One’ were the large green words on the screen. Marty was already there, typing in the activation code for the Gravitational Wave Amplifier.
“Help me turn on the graviton supply,” he shouted over the noise. I scrambled over to the controls and started flipping the switches. As I began keying in the access codes, I heard Marty say the first cuss word I have ever heard him say.
“This is bad. Today’s Harmony Day.”
I felt my heart and mind mash together in a panicked frenzy. Harmony Day was the day the two flagship space cities, Artemis One of the Earth Empire, and Galaxis Suprema of the Kuiper Federation, came in close proximity to celebrate the end of the Fifty Year War. Citizens from both cities would visit each other and partake in joint festivities. This also meant that activating the Amplifier would push the comet towards Galaxis Suprema. Even with today’s technology, we do not have fine control over the amplification process.
Marty and I looked at each other in joined paralysis, scared of our next move. The implications were pretty clear. If we did nothing, we would be sacrificing our Empire’s flagship city, along with a large part of the Ministry of Space Colonization and bureaucrats visiting from the home planet. On the other hand, pushing the comet towards the Federation’s city would not sit well in this fragile peace. It was certain to start another war.
“We have less than a minute to act, no time to ask for orders,” I did my best to steady my voice. “I say we sacrifice Artemis One. We will lose our jobs, there’ll be some political vacuum, but at least there’ll be no war.”
Marty’s look was one of disbelief and hardly suppressed irritation.
“We would lose more than just our jobs! The Emperor would have our heads! Besides, a comet like this wouldn’t just appear out of nowhere. This has to be an attack by factions in the Federation unhappy with the peace. It’ll be war either way.”
The decision should have been clear from that statement alone, but none of us wanted to go down in history as the one who pushed the button. Even if we absolved ourselves of murder, the Federation would not spin it that way. I imagined nasty books written about us, parents telling children horror stories about monsters in our likeness, our tombstones desecrated with unflattering graffiti, our kids living in a shadow of hate.
“Hey, Tim the maintenance guy doesn’t have kids, right?”
I looked at Marty with confusion before realizing what he was intending. I saw him take out a miniature welding torch from the toolbox, walk over to the Amplifier’s chiller control, and fired at the wires inside. The Heads-Up Display went dead.
“I’ll doctor the evidence further. I’ve seen blown-out circuits before.”
I did not want to question the moral grounds of the action. Marty had been the faster thinker, and he had decided that selfishness was justified here and now, that we should let historical forces bury this moment in the sands of time. I gave him a thankful nod as silent fireworks erupted in the darkness of space.
by Stephen R. Smith | Nov 1, 2019 | Story |
Author: Steve Smith, Staff Writer
Her name was Ruth, I think, or something like that. We didn’t talk much. I used to help her when she came home from the library with her cart full of books; she liked physics, and biology, and quantum entanglement. Heady stuff, way beyond me. She’d stop in the hall where my cat would come to greet us. Boris usually made strange, but not with her. She’d recite some poem in a language I couldn’t understand, and Boris would purr, then we’d continue upstairs to her apartment where she’d thank me and disappear inside.
She disappeared for good a few weeks ago now.
Her granddaughter seems to have moved into her old place. She’s got her grandmother’s strange taste in books, but she carries them up herself, and her penchant for cryptic poems which she shares with Boris too, who likes her just fine.
The resemblance is uncanny.
by submission | Oct 31, 2019 | Story |
Author: Ken Carlson
Maxx was puttering away with various adhesives and synthetics in the attic of his government-issued pod, one of the perks of being among the few humans on the Gliese 163 c mining colony. Encased in a series of domes and tubes, the inhabitants lived a rugged existence. Maxx’s family enjoyed many luxuries local citizens and visiting aliens could only dream of.
“Is Janica done with her studies?” Maxx asked.
“Yes,” said Ariana, his wife. “The comm-link with Earth should be closing down soon. She’s 13. She knows she has to complete her assignments by then.”
“Then bring her in. I’m almost done.”
Ariana sighed. She thought marrying a diplomat from Earth would be exciting. Instead, they were shuttled from one space station or rock to the next, with his attempts at forming local community bonds and rewriting war-torn history considered failed exercises.
“You wanted to see me, father?” Janica and her mother entered his room.
“Yes,” Maxx said, revealing the product of his work. “What do you think of this?”
“AAAAAGGHH!” Janica screamed and recoiled in fear into her mother’s arms.
“Maxx, have you lost your mind?” Ariana yelled.
“Hold on!” Maxx shouted. “It’s just a mask, see!” He held the rubberized image of a Genesian, a lizard creature that feasted many of this planet’s early inhabitants.
“I sculpted it from images I found in the historical medical data banks.”
“What are you doing with it?” Ariana asked.
“I thought Janica would like to wear it,” Maxx responded. His wife and daughter stared at him, then the mask.
“Back on Earth,” he said, “they used to celebrate a holiday, Halloween.” Maxx was an amateur historian, ever eager to spread the story of Earth. Janica and Ariana thought the overall embarrassment of his last effort, one involving the hiding of sweets throughout their pod under the guise of some enormous rabbit, would be the end of it.
“On that night,” he continued, “children would dress up in costumes representing fears and legends, then enter other people’s homes in search of food.”
“You want me to dress up like a giant gecko and beg for nutrition tablets?” Janica asked.
“You ask for a treat, playfully threatening to play a trick on the residents if they don’t provide one. We can try it with the Sundorffs. They’re human and older. I’m sure they’ve heard of it. They’ll probably think it’s funny.”
Ariana & Janica thought it was a horrible idea. Lars and Leiloni Sundorff were retired military attachés, more interested in credit from warding off nonexistent rebels than sharing pleasantries with their milquetoast neighbors.
Janica walked up to the Sundorff’s door in full Genesian costume. Maxx stood back on his property, beaming at his creation, as Ariana rolled her eyes.
Leiloni Sundorff opened their door. She screamed and ran inside. Janica took a few steps in tried to explain herself but was unable to be heard through the mask. She tried to take it off and couldn’t.
Leiloni returned with her husband and several incendiary laser blasts. A general alarm rang out as Janica ran out the door. Security shields closed down, cutting off Janica from returning to her home. Janica yelled for help as her parents cried as they tried to override the forcefield.
Sundorff slowly stalked his prey, steadying his hand for one final shot. Janica had nowhere to hide. She ran toward Sundorff, yelling through the muffling mask. Sundorff realized this wasn’t what he thought it was, but it wasn’t until after he squeezed the trigger for one more shot.
by submission | Oct 30, 2019 | Story |
Author: R. J. Erbacher
Power reigns supreme.
“Come, Bia. Your Master summons you.”
The man who came to get her was a slob, big-bellied and slovenly. His mouth drooled as he barked his order and stared at her.
She dressed in a simple sparse tunic, her feet were bare, and she knotted her hair atop her head to keep it out of the way. The lackey took her up the stone crest to the small arena with the hard, wooden post in the center. Circling the dirt field stood the masses of the village, murmuring and ready to explode. Her Master was there trying to hide the whip behind his back as if she didn’t know what was coming…again. Bia let her shelf be led to her Master; huge, muscular and formidable, still, even after what she’d taken from him. A single swipe of his hand grabbed the robe and tore it from her body leaving her naked. The crowd cheered. He pushed her face up to the pole and bound her hands stretched over her head, her breasts divided by the shaft.
Stepping back and uncoiling the whip the crowd began to thrum in anticipation. He heaved his arm back cracking the cruel skein behind him and let it snake into the dust, holding it there and drawing out the moment. Then with all his might he propelled his force forward and ripped the leather strap across her back, the tip curling around and catching the side of her breast. Bia’s head jerked with the pain and she bit back the scream. Every other voice erupted in shouts of ecstatic glee. Her Master pulled back the lash, held it and repeated the stroke harder, striking a fresh section of skin. The cord split her flesh and she felt the power of his energy as the braid slid along the flayed muscle, her blood soaking up the impact. Again, and again, each blow investing evermore force against her accepting body. It went on until her Master had exhausted his strength and he dropped the now red-stained leather cable onto the ground and padded away.
The throngs of people scurried off into nooks and niches to pleasure each other with the buildup of lust that had spiked in their loins from the event. Attendants untied Bia’s hands, bundled her onto a travois, covered her with a tarp and dragged her back to her room where she was dumped onto her cot. The pain was real, and Bia felt each stinging lash as it throbbed in her flesh but by tomorrow, they would be healed. Not into puckered raw scars but back to her alabaster smooth skin.
Her beautiful skin that had been the cause of so much of her troubles, had caught the attention of many of the Beings, men and women, who wanted to ravish her. But she’d shunned their advances until finally they’d collectively had enough and banished her to this rock. In this distinguishable appearance, yet still beautiful, for her continuous punishment, thinking they had ruined her. Made her pay for her audacity.
What they hadn’t realized was that each penetrating strike allowed her to absorb the energy from her Master and store it and expand it until she now could crush boulders at a distance, bend the air and manipulate the sea. Soon she would be so strong that she would blow this puny village away with a single breath.
And then it would be the Beings turn. And then they would all understand that beneath her beautiful skin was a Being who was dreadful. And Powerful.
Because power reigns supreme.
by Hari Navarro | Oct 29, 2019 | Story |
Author: Hari Navarro, Staff Writer
“I love you, my dearest”, I say folding back and patting smooth the sheet that is tucked at her chin.
I look at her and trace the thick welts at my cheek and feel within them my own mother’s bottomless affection. I, too, will love my child as she loved me. Bottomless, endless love.
I remember caressing her form as she grew in my belly. We were alone, she and I, and even then I knew she was special. More than a daughter. She is my best friend. But today is the day I will hack from her sweet face every last hint of its beauty.
“Is today when you tell me the story?”, she asks through eyes so deep and so dark.
“Yes, yes. For you to understand what’s to come, you must first learn what has already been.”
“Is it a scary story, Mother?”
“It is horrifying. This tale of the day when the world ground to a halt and then again it spun”, I stutter.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Please…”
“OK… so it was that the remnants of our burning planet’s leadership sat in the great auditorium and gazed at him up on the screen.”
“At who?”
“The one who was scrubbed from all memory. A mighty invader from a distant civilisation. He looked like us. Or, at least, he looked like we once had been. Arrogant. Smug in the certainty of his absolute power.”
“What was his name?”
“His name was God. For we had no other name for he who welds control so absolutely. We asked for mercy. We asked to be saved and in his grace he allowed us a chance.”
“I know everything about you. Your cultures, your languages but I really do not understand this incredulous notion you harbour. That there must be some underlying motive to my actions. I annihilate because I can. You want mercy? I can do that, too. Do you know of an Italian television show that goes by the name of Uomini e Donne?”, he said.
“Of course… it is very popular”, The Italian Prime-minister responded bemused.
“It is also very popular on the farthest edge of the galaxy. The borderline tortuous ever-repeating theme music, the continuous vacuous arguing and the fake body parts and the ’does he love her does she not’ dynamic… it’s all so… stimulating. I’ll spare you your world and I will leave and pledge never to return… but you must continue to make that show. You must pour all of your resources into its perpetual continuation. Beam it out into the stars. The very instant that you don’t, I will return and that… will be… the end of that!”
“And so this damned show is beamed three times daily out into the swirling mystery of the cosmos. All notion of organized religion is erased. Government’s cease to exist. There is only the show. A dating show that to this very day selects only our most beautiful. Groomed to transcend mere celebrity, you will pass into the pantheon of immortals. Only you won’t. For it is farce. You’ll be exulted and lauded only whist you still have your looks. The moment age falters your perfection, they will kill you. I’m so sorry… I love you so very, very much”, I say into the pristine ocean eyes of my unfathomably beautiful daughter as my weak fingers open and the blade falls away to the floor.
by Julian Miles | Oct 28, 2019 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
The magic came back. It went unnoticed for a while. Then a couple of bane magic covens got nasty surprises. Apprehension turned to fear as authority figures came up with increasingly implausible explanations.
‘Magewinter’ is the term everyone uses: a word that conceals more horror than the survivors care to recall. Afterwards, the superpowers allied. Frantic experimentation and desperate conscription combined with some questionable black projects from all sides to form the Magister Army – a dedicated force with the best in modern technology and rediscovered sorcerous might.
Just in time. A starving shepherd named Fusman prayed over some ancient scrolls he’d found in a cave. Desperately pleading for salvation, he accidentally raised a jinn by the name of Emeyt. After making Fusman immortal, Emeyt set about turning the Middle East into his techno-magical empire.
The Magister Army went in to deliver Operation Ascent. Full-colour footage of the operation was to be captured by the drones accompanying the army.
Two days later, those drones recorded the army melting like wax. Emeyt and the few kin he’d summoned had been practicing magic for millennia. The Magister Army had only been at it for eight months.
Meanwhile, Fusman sought to undo his mistake. Eventually, his quest brought him to the man who recruited me. Tonight, a year later, is Samhain. My mission is to stop Emeyt by any means necessary. I have been told – off the record – that if human sacrifices are needed, Bournemouth can stand to lose a few.
I take a wand made from the antenna of a tank used in Desert Storm, wrap it in a braid of ivy, stripped CAT5 cable, and my hair. On the makeshift altar in front of me rests a ruby, a chalice full of rum, an old iPod, a piece of cloth from Fusman’s turban, and a small screen with a real time feed showing Emeyt flying across the Sahara.
“Don’t we need a protective circle or something?”
I turn my head and grin at the Corporal.
“Didn’t they tell you? If this goes bad, there’s nothing on Earth that’ll save us.”
“Best leave you to it, then.” She steps back.
Squaddies. You just can’t shake ‘em. Right. Time to do chaos mages – and my mother – proud.
“I’d say something powerful, but the words are just for show. And thus: Cernunnos, I ask your forbearance. Ogun! I need the loa of the deep woods, he who knows the tech and the lore.”
The forest about me goes still. The iPod plays Greensleeves, then bursts into flames. I can’t help but laugh.
A voice from behind: “What would you of me, wyld witch?”
“The means to defeat the one named Emeyt.”
A heavily muscled arm reaches over my shoulder and retrieves the chalice.
“He’s of the old power. To defeat him would be to end the magic.”
“Tolerable. What cost your intervention?”
“Let not one more tree be cut down. You may take old branches and what time provides, but no more.”
“You know that edict will be broken.”
“Only to start. Oathbreakers pay in blood, even with low magic. You know the law. Spread the word.”
“Will the magic be lost?”
“Back to being low magic, thence to wait once more. The spiral goes ever on. Our time will come again.”
“Then, by my will, I accept your terms, and bid thee farewell.”
“Formality, so polite. It is d-”
The empty chalice lands on my foot. The screen shows empty desert.
“Had anyone made plans for how we handle the transition back to being without magic?”
I grin at the Corporal: “Oops.”
