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.
by submission | Sep 29, 2011 | Story |
Author : Cal Glover-Wessel
I guess I thought there would be more turmoil, more mounting panic, but when you know the date and time of the end I guess it’s easier to accept it. There were no riots; there were no religious upheavals. It was as if the whole world had skipped every stage of grief and was ready to ride this one out. I tried to explain everything to my son, Harlan. He was petrified, of course. He didn’t really understand. He had always relied on me to fix the problems and have all the answers, but here was something so big that even I couldn’t fix it. He saw right through my calm facade. If I was terrified in his eyes, what hope did he have? I’d forbidden him to watch TV as to avoid the hype and the pretense, so he would spend all of his time watching the sky. There were times I needed to shut his blinds so he’d stop watching the stars and go to bed, but sometimes I would watch with him.
I had a dream the night the world ended. I was driving through the desert in my first car from high school, a dark blue clunker of a Buick. The clouds were heavy and thunder rumbled all around me, but there was no rain. Massive gray birds flew overhead, sharply pointed wings cutting the heavy clouds; fat red crests sitting over solemn hooked beaks. They flew towards and perched upon an iron tower far ahead of me, and as I sped towards them they began to scream. Their shrieks grew louder and more frequent as I drove closer to the tower, and soon the screams pierced even the thunder. I drove ever faster and as the monstrous birds screamed the clouds parted above their heads and a blinding beautiful light shone through. As I drew closer the bird’s shrieking squawks become more mechanical and more monotone until they had blended entirely with my alarm and I awoke, my body still tired but my thoughts clear.
It’s dark now in my room, but out the window I can still see the stars. I walk into Harlan’s room and gently shake him awake. We step outside onto our walkway. There are no streetlights in our neighborhood, but I can see the lights from neighbors’ houses. Some of them have stepped outside like us, while others wait indoors. Our own stoop light shines behind Harlan and me, casting our shadows on the lawn. I watch his tiny shadow reach out and clutch at my shadow, and I feel his arms around my leg. I pick him up and hold him as we look at the sky and wait.
First the lights go out.
And then the stars.
by featured writer | Sep 28, 2011 | Story |
Author : Julian Miles, Featured Writer
Gravity sucks. I mean, who wants to be stuck to anything because it’s so big you can’t get away from it?
I was born in the same cubby that Mom and Dad raised fourteen of us before the aches got ‘em. “Drive stress”, the officers call it. Seems like that gravity thing is plain mean. After all, they did their best to “replenish population” and their only reward is being deadified by the ship? Seemed unfair.
There I was, working my way up the ladder in the tech section. Didn’t plan it this way, but after we’d left the fortieth planet we could have settled on, seemed to me like some officers liked things just as they were a little too much. Told us about “adverse cultural impact” and “negative bacterium adjustment” and stuff like that. I had an idea and then found out I wasn’t the only one.
So when the officers culled all the people who had “formed quasi-religious ideals counter to mission parameters” I knew we were on to something.
So I’m hanging upside down trying to keep my gear from tumbling on to the deck a long way down. I’m skinsuited so I don’t drip, which is going to wrinkle me like a prune so I’ll have to hide from the officers tomorrow. Been here for two hours and my head is pounding and my eyes keep blurring, seems like gravity knows I’m here to mess with it and is trying to make my head explode.
With a smile I complete the reroute and flick the switch I’ve just hooked into the “gravitic core stabiliser coupling”. Only box I could find that related to gravity, so this must be the one. Techs only do some stuff and “mission critical systems” are fixed by the officers. So I spent days looking for a gravity bit. Worked back from the “drive attenuator” box I found behind a bulkhead. Took six weeks but I got it. Gonna teach this gravity thing who’s boss, gonna see the officers spit when me an’ mine from below level ten can turn their ship on an’ off unless they do as we say.
Mom, Dad; this is for you. I flick the switch back and forth a few times.
It gets real noisy down there and officers is runnin’ all over the place, shouting and yelling in their fancy lingo. Then a real bright light hits me. One of them officers seems to have got a line on what I done. I hears a real posh voice from behind the light,
“It’s a squaddie, skipper. Up in the routing duct, he’s done something to the connections, can’t see what.”
“Tell that distant spawn of a redneck émigré that unless he undoes what he’s done, we’re buggered.”
I got the drift of that alright. So I wiggle the switch a few more times. They all get frantic down there and suddenly I don’t feel so good and I hear a ladies’ voice below, all squeaky-like;
“He’s stuttering the coupling! Can’t you feel the fluctuations? If he keeps doing that we’re going to be a toroid denser than a collapsar!”
“Shoot him. Now!”
I heard that. I shouts down to them.
“Don’t you be thinkin’ about that, officers! I knows you got a plot to keep us down an’ if you don’t ‘fess up, I’m just gonna keep wigglin’ this here switch.”
So I wiggles the switch some more to show I wasn’t messin’.
Then gravity roars at me as it presses down real hard.
