by submission | Mar 13, 2016 | Story |
Author : E.S. Wynn
One ferrous meteor. That’s all it took to end it all.
That little world– they put up a hell of a fight, far more than any of us expected. When we arrived in-system, they were too busy organizing tribes in massive attempts to wipe each other out to notice us. Hell, I think we were in orbit before anyone down there planetside even tried to talk to us. Worlds with life that primitive– they’re everywhere in this galaxy. That world’s life was nothing special. We all thought it was going to be really easy to wipe them out and clear the land for colonization, but they turned out to be far more resourceful than any of us ever imagined.
We followed standard procedure for the first wave in. Big, scary colony ships perched over every major city on their little world. Posturing, just lots of posturing. Surrender yourself or die, that kind of stuff. Some of the tribes gave in immediately, but the biggest ones stuck it out, called our bluff.
Now, it isn’t often that a world that primitive stands up to us like that. Usually they see the futility of their situation and then they lay down so we can kill them without losing any of our colony ships or equipment. Not that world– that world was ruled by the dangerously insane. Even before we threatened to subjugate its people in a bloody and destructive conquest, the disparate tribes were already beginning to band together, were already working on joint projects, rushing prototype weapons into large-scale production. Usually when we come in, we fire the first shot. Not this time. This time, there was no warning shot. This time, they came at our colony ships with swarms of sleek, glossy interceptors, all remotely piloted. Didn’t even leave a scratch on our colony ships, but their attempts to drive us off were amusing to watch.
I think that’s why our President decided to throw the meteor at them. We had the power to wipe them out with minimal effort. Hell, we could have killed them slowly, sterilized them all with a flash of gamma radiation and waited for them to die off. We’re immortal. We could have waited a hundred years, two hundred, whatever it took. I’ve had VR game sessions that lasted longer than that.
No, the rock was meant to be flashy. It was meant to get their attention. It did, too. One impact, one big city, and they all put up their hands in surrender. Took about a month to skin their brains, digitize the entire planetary population and stash their collective data in the cultural archives for the academics to pick over and play with.
And that was it. That was how the whole thing ended. We moved on after that, picked another target and set a course for it. That planet– didn’t matter how fierce of a show the primitives made when we came in. In the end, it was just another hunk of rock, another world in the bucket for the good ol’ United States of Earth.
by submission | Mar 12, 2016 | Story |
Author : Jason X. Bergman
“You hold my amulet. I am bound to grant you three wishes. Three wishes and no more,” spoke the jinn.
“I need only one,” said the prince. “My beloved Meredith, killed by the dark wizard Neirin. I want her back.”
“This I cannot do,” said the jinn, shaking his head. His hair was as black as the night was dark. “She was killed by magic. I can bring down the heavens with a thought, but even I cannot bring her back to you.”
The prince thought for a moment. He thought of Meredith, his love, his life. He thought of Nerin, whose cruelty took her on what would have been their wedding day. His hand clenched. He looked into the jinn’s black eyes and said, “Very well. Then I want to end it all.”
“Your life?” Said the jinn, with a smile. The jinn are dark creatures, and taking lives is something they take great pleasure in. “This I can do. Tell me how you wish to-”
“No,” said the prince. “Magic. I want magic to go away.”
The jinn was shaken by this request. “That could be arranged, but-”
“I want all of it to go away. The wizards, the unicorns, the dragons, the fairies, the ten floating kingdoms. All of it.”
“But you and I, we are creatures of magic!” The jinn protested. “If I do this it would be as if none of us had ever existed. Magic would exist only in the dreams of men. Do you realize what you are asking?”
“Can it be done?” Said the prince. “Or do you lack the power?”
The jinn was not pleased to have his power questioned. “I am the most powerful creature in all the ten kingdoms, mortal. I could do this thing with a flick of my wrist,” and he flicked his wrist, for emphasis. “But I will not.”
“You forget your place, jinn,” said the prince. “I defeated the seven beasts to find this place. I hold in my hand your amulet of power. You have no choice but to do as I say.”
“You are correct,” said the jinn. “If you command it, I must respond. But consider what you are asking! Without magic, what would remain?”
The prince held up the jinn’s amulet. It glowed with red fire, casting a flickering light across the cave. “I hold your amulet and command you. As my one and only wish. Remove magic from the Earth. Now and forever.”
“By your command,” said the jinn, resigned to his fate. “So it shall be.”
The jinn held his arms up, reluctantly, and began his incantations, but it was clear he took no delight in them. Red light poured from his body as he spoke, enveloping the room. It spread beyond the cave and swept across the land. It covered each of the ten kingdoms and flew across the seas to the lands beyond.
The world went dark. And was reborn.
And the rest, they say, is history.
by Julian Miles | Mar 11, 2016 | Story |
Author : Julian Miles, Staff Writer
“Teatray!”
We all duck behind or under solid objects until the sound of a small crash landing gives us the all-clear. Wandering over to check the corpse, there are expressions of dismay. We’ve just clocked our first RAPTOR. I don’t know what the slang acronym means, but basically it’s a drone using ducted fans within a body designed to resemble a city hawk.
“Somebody’s lost a very expensive toy.” Mitch is unsympathetic: rogue drones cause more mayhem than any other form of technology.
I grin at him: “Looks like his birdie took a QR to the CPU. Someone won’t know we hit it.”
Mitch nods. He points toward the dot drifting high above and makes a circling movement with his index finger: “Hunt ‘someone’ down.”
That dot is Nils. Early experiments in drone policing used trained eagles. They were effective, but the wounds to the birds were increasingly horrific as drone operators started sharpening the edges of their rotors. Nils is an Osprey, brought into the program as they are the only eagle with reversible outer toes, giving them better grip to deal with drones. He was effective, but barely survived taking down a drugbug – drone full of heroin – losing both legs and part of a wing.
That was when Colonel Mitchell ‘Mitch’ Everton-Masham of MI22 – Cyber Intelligence, an evolution of MI16 – stepped in and gave me a new friend to work with. I’d handled a few birds of prey, but the first cybereagle was a whole new level of challenge. Thirteen months later, a rogue over Buckingham Palace got a photo of its killer that went viral: sunlight reflecting from the steel pinions of an otherwise-silhouetted giant bird of prey. Nils had arrived.
He’s also got a clever QR code between his wings, so drones with defensive scanning can read the encoded low-level command and obey the ‘land immediately’ directive. However, as rogues are frequently hacked to get around safety restrictors, some just fall out of the sky. The ‘teatray’ warning is one of ours, taken from the Mad Hatter’s song.
I nod and tap my comms: “Nils. Trace commsig.”
Nils spirals out westward, following the frantic commands being sent by the drone’s operator. A Metro chopper paces Nils about eight hundred metres behind: operators can turn aggressive when their getaway is interrupted.
When Nils gets within a hundred metres of the ground, his visuals sync with our main board and we get an HD view of two blokes in slouchies and donkey jackets staring in awe as Nils sidle-hovers with an eerie blades-from-scabbards noise made by his rapidly moving wings.
The audio pickups filter the noise so we get to hear the word that accompanies the operator’s stunned expression.
“Beautiful.”
I tap my comm twice to speak via Nils’ speaker: “Do not attempt to flee. Armed response is inbound.”
The two figures look relieved. There are whoops of glee behind me: these lads were leasing their expensive drone. They’ll take custody and anonymity to save themselves from mutilation by the crime lord who is out of pocket. We may well be able to roll up an entire rogue wing, right back to production facilities and related smuggling operations.
Mitch slaps me on the shoulder: “Tell your boy it’s steak ‘n’ giblets tonight.”
I grin and tap my comms: “Nils. Good lad. Come home.”
A piercing whistle of joy in my headset accompanies our display wheeling in an arc that lays London’s skyline out for us as my friend Nils, a.k.a. Pandion One, puts the sunset behind him and heads for dinner.
by submission | Mar 10, 2016 | Story |
Author : Steve Zabaldo
“Cerell, come on, the Departure Gathering begins shortly. We don’t want to miss the launch.”
“Is it true a citizen is passing?”
“Yes, that is why today’s departure is special. Citizen Herald has chosen to pass off-isle and journey the Feralands.”
“Will we be told of his adventures?”
“No Cerell, you know when a citizen chooses to pass, he can never return. We cannot foresee how the Feralands may sway any citizen and we cannot upend Balance.”
“But we are told nothing of the Feralands besides their danger. What is so dangerous? Why are we not told?”
“Cerell, do you question the Providers?
“No, it’s just…”
“It’s just? We have peace, bounty, health? Isltopia is Balance Cerell, and cannot tolerate Upenders.”
Loading the trading craft, the laborers hurried, glancing up at the Traders or out to the gathering crowd. They, as much as any citizen, excitedly await the ceremonies of the Departure Gathering; food, music, speeches, games, and the Pronouncement of the Providers from behind the Veil. The Providers are never seen in their official capacity; nobody knows who they are, only that they exist. They walk among the citizens anonymously and objectively. They are immune from Undue influence, they cannot be swayed with personal appeals, and therefore remain unbiased in the maintenance of Balance.
“Herald, why must you pass?”
“Mother, we have discussed this to its end. I want for answers, for things The Providers begrudge us.”
“The Providers begrudge us nothing; they protect us from the Undue and further the vision of The Founder.”
“I wish not to suffer the portion of an Upender, so I choose to pass.”
“You will be missed.”
“I will think of you always. Fear not, I enter my Bliss.”
Herald boards the trading craft disappearing into the hold. The Traders prepare for launch, silent and efficient, no movement unneeded. Herald makes for his cabin seemingly unnoticed by the machine-like Traders. Arriving at his cabin Herald is greeted by a man of stately stature.
“You have questions citizen Herald.”
“I, I do. Um, and you are sir?”
“I am Provider Prime. What questions would you like answered?”
“What is life like beyond our borders? Why are we not told of the Feralands? Why can we not return? Why—“
“There are many communities beyond Isltopia with many ways of life. Most live much as we do, but without Balance…people decide many issues for themselves and make many errors in judgment that cost many lives. They do not benefit from the wisdom of the Founder and the protection of Balance.”
“There is much Undue?”
“They exist in Undue and do not learn from their mistakes. There is no stability; therefore, there is anguish and pain. These are the wants that you desire?”
“No…I do not know…I, I want knowledge. I want purpose. I want to bring new ideas to Isltopia, new experiences—“
“You wish to Upend.”
“No..?”
Provider Prime’s memory activates his Principal Protocol. He approaches Citizen Herald. “Two-hundred sixty-five years ago The Founder, who we call The Creator, issued me his final directive; ‘Without Balance,’ he said, ‘there is no point in living. Prime, always maintain Balance.’ Citizen Herald you upend Balance.” With a single motion, swift and precise, Provider Prime humanely fractures Herald’s third cervical vertebrae rendering him lifeless, which, in turn initiates The Provider’s emotion chip. “I am sorry citizen Herald—Balance must be maintained.”
by submission | Mar 9, 2016 | Story |
Author : Beck Dacus
The ship had suddenly appeared in front of our Mars transport, instantly matching our speed. Then they requested to come aboard, and we felt like we had no choice but to accept. One of them, a strange being that didn’t seem to be in any one place, spoke to me in a voice that I can only describe as the perfect human voice.
“We know you are aware of cross-planetary contamination,” it said flawlessly. We know this, in part, because you have taken measures against it when to travel between worlds. This is commendable. We are glad you showed such competence. But despite this, we are afraid you must not continue.”
It took my crew and I a few seconds to process what was even happen. Then it took another few moments to grasp that they were telling us we could no longer land on any planets. Naturally, we were irked.
“It’s a fundamental part of who we are!” Inra exclaimed.
“You can’t just tell a human being not to explore,” Ian added.
“It is not a question of whether you enjoy the confinement,” the alien responded. “This is not your decision to make. It is in the best interest of all life. We both know you are only protesting because you do not fully understand the risks. We will show you.”
It was in that instant that our ship left the Solar System and arrived in orbit around a planet with two starkly contrasted hemispheres: one red, one yellow. The sight was irresistable.
“That’s amazing,” Talia said, gawking.
“Unbelievable,” I chimed in.
“This sight may register as pleasing to you, but it is the manifestation of an ecological war between the native biosphere of the planet Cudolla and one that was unintentionally planted here by an extinct race much like yourself.”
“Which color is the natives?” Ian asked.
“Irrelevant,” the alien said in a perfect annoyed voice. “The point is that this will be the result of any further exploration of your surrounding space. We will give you a chance to cooperate voluntarily, but forceful methods will be used if necessary.”
“Then why are you allowed to enter our ship?” I jabbed. “Aren’t you contaminating us?”
“I am only here in a few ways,” it retorted. “The way allowing contamination is not included.” In another flash, we were transported back on our route to Mars.
“We have refueled this vessel. Turn around and spread the message, or we will make you.” And with that, the alien and its ship disappeared into empty space. Silence on board the ship.
“Set a course for home,” I said dejectedly.
