by submission | Jul 19, 2012 | Story |
Author : Darrin Drader
I remember giving her one last kiss as I prepared to step into the elevator that led to the nine-stage rocket.
“Please, don’t do this,” she said. “I love you.”
I remembered laying out in the lawn looking up into the stars of the night sky as a child. I had grown up on a farm, away from the light of the cities. I could see the clusters of stars, and I had always felt drawn to them. So many times I had put myself at this moment in time, getting ready to launch.
“This is what I was born to do,” I said simply. And with that, I had turned and left her, and the planet, forever.
I’d signed up for exploration, but that was before we learned of the others. When their signals reached us, it became clear that they were jealous, petty, greedy, and worst of all, warlike. The idea of welcoming them into galactic society was repugnant. They exploited everything they touched, including each other.
The first five stages of the rocket propelled it out of the atmosphere. Once in space, the next three had sent it moving ever faster toward the edge of the solar system at relativistic speeds. This portion of the journey lasted the longest, and it was the loneliest. I couldn’t help but question whether I’d made the right decision to volunteer to die.
“They’re getting close,” the General had told me. “Despite social, religious, and political forces working against them, they’ve finally unlocked all of the science. It won’t be long now… It’s a hell of a thing to volunteer for, but we’ll remember you. I promise.”
Three weeks of remembering her, our love, and our life that would never be. Three weeks, cut off from the planet because they’d said it would be easiest for everyone if the only communication was an automated confirmation of success or failure.
The faster than light engines had kicked in once the ship had made it far enough away from any of the planets to cause damage to them. This portion of the journey lasted only minutes. Entire solar systems sailed by in the blink of an eye.
They could have sent an unmanned missile to do the job; however, such missiles weren’t able to guide the warhead in manually if the enemy managed to hack the main computer; and this species was far too dangerous to allow even a chance of survival. Given that communication moved at the speed of light, and the kill order was given decades ahead of when this species would likely achieve faster than light travel, it was entirely possible that they were already building their ships. Once our existence had been detected, it would be all over.
The engine cut out inside the orbit of the single moon. The enemy had referred to it as “Earth.” However, what awaited me was not what I expected. Instead of blue oceans and green continents, I saw only brown craters. Even the oceans had boiled away.
My four hands quickly worked the controls to disarm the missile, change the trajectory, and abort the impact. These idiots had destroyed themselves; my sacrifice was unnecessary. I didn’t have to die! I could return to her.
The planet’s gravity captured the vessel and I fell into orbit.
That was when I remembered that this was a one way mission. The faster-than-light engine was spent. They’d said it would be easiest for everyone if the only communication was an automated confirmation of success or failure…
by submission | Jul 14, 2012 | Story |
Author : Regina Clarke
“Look. Here’s the deal. It’s a no-brainer. I do all the hard work. All you have to do is wait for my signal and then press this button to start the accelerator.”
The old man listening had a worried expression on his face. “What if nothing happens?”
“How long have we known each other?”
“I don’t know. A couple of years, I guess.”
“Have I ever led you wrong before?
The old man twisted his hands together. “I guess not. But we haven’t really done anything together before, not that I can recall.”
“Only because you hesitated, didn’t want to take a chance. You were just afraid all the time, right? Like you are now?”
“I’m cautious, that’s what I am. My wife always said so. It’s a good way to be. Law-abiding and I mind my own business. Only now, with her gone…” The old man ran his hand over his thinning hair and stared for a while at the brown spots that covered the skin on his hands.
“You don’t have to say it. I know,” came the soothing voice of the man next to him, whose pallor held the look of the dead.
“What do you get out of this?” the old man asked.
“Satisfaction. Oh, not just because I see you in a happier place. After all, I’m a businessman, not a charity, right? But it doesn’t end there, no pun intended.”
“What’s that mean? You want me to pay you more, is that what you mean?” Agitation filled the old man’s eyes. “I don’t have any. You’ve got all the money I had left.”
“No! You’re fine. All paid up. What I was just trying to say was about that satisfaction thing. It’s not just about the money. I feel—what’s the word—fulfilled. Know what I mean?”
“I guess.”
“So, ready to start?”
The old man took a deep breath and gave a quick smile to his companion. “Yes, I am. It’s what I want. I’ll wait for your signal. Thank you. For caring about me.”
“It’s what I do, and what…like I said…fulfills me. I’m leaving now. You stay here. Soon as you see the flash we talked about, press the button.”
“It’ll start right away? I’ll see my Mary again?”
“You got it. On the instant.”
“How will it feel?”
“Just what I told you. You won’t feel a thing. Then you’ll see what I promised. Everything will change, believe me.”
The old man stood straighter and smiled again. “I’m ready.”
His companion left the warehouse, closing the heavy metal doors behind him. Moments later a massive flash filled the space. The old man was startled but managed to press the button on the wall in front of him.
Nothing happened. He pressed the button a few more times and then walked over to the large set of doors and with some effort pulled them open. Everything was the same, parking lot, blue sky, cars on the highway. Where was Mary?
“You know, they all ask that—different names but the same idea. I’m sorry. We’re set up for ages forty to fifty. You’re seventy-five. We’re a bit cheaper than the seventy to eighty group. I’m afraid he’s sent you to the wrong place. He always does that. Your Mary is in a different dimension.”
The old man spun around. A young woman with curly auburn hair spoke in a soft voice.
“He took my money! I paid him the full price! He promised me!”
“Yes, he always does that.”
by submission | Jul 10, 2012 | Story |
Author : Bob Newbell
It was with trepidation that the Secretary-General of the United Nations brought his lips near the microphone to make the first verbal attempt to communicate with the 1,500 spaceship armada that had infiltrated the outer solar system. With a steady voice he said, “On behalf of the people of Earth, I bid peaceful greetings to the visitors to our solar system.”
It was expected that it would take perhaps 35 minutes for the message to reach the fleet and as long for a response to be heard back. To everyone’s surprise, the reply was immediate.
“Yeah, hi there. Sorry to just barge in like this, but we have orders to repossess your gas giants.”
The Secretary-General and the other dignitaries who heard the message were stunned.
“Would you please explain how you are communicating so quickly over hundreds of millions of kilometers and explain what you mean by ‘repossess your gas giants’?”
“We put a satellite in orbit around Earth to convert between your radio communication and our tachyon pulses which are faster than light. It also translates languages,” came the reply over the speakers. “Your world’s account with PlanetShield Incorporated is 65.5 million of your years delinquent. The company hired Interstellar Repo — that’s us — to collect the four gas giants PlanetShield sold to your ancestors to gravitationally sweep up asteroidal and cometary debris in your star system so the inner planets wouldn’t get pummeled.”
The United Nations delegates looked at one another in utter astonishment. The Secretary-General composed himself and spoke. “There was no intelligent life on our Earth 65 million years ago.”
“You’ve got that right,” replied the alien. “No intelligent life form would try to protect four rock-worlds with just four gas giants. Not only does this solar system have a large comet cloud, it’s got a great big asteroid belt right outside the orbit of the fourth planet. You really need six and ideally seven or eight gas giants for proper coverage.”
“No,” responded the Secretary-General, “I mean there literally were no beings on this world who could have engaged in any sort of business agreement to celestially engineer our solar system 65 million years ago.”
The U.N. delegates heard what sounded like papers being shuffled over the speakers. “Let’s see,” said the alien. “Large reptilian beings, some bipedal, some quadrupedal, most with scales, some with feathers, collectively dubbed ‘dinosaurs’ by subsequent dominant mammalian species. Sound about right for 65.5 million years ago?”
“Yes, but–”
“Got the signed contract right here.”
“But the dinosaurs went extinct! We believe an asteroid struck the Earth and–”
“Well of course an asteroid struck the Earth. Those cheapskate dinosaurs went with a package designed for a star system half as big as this one. And then they didn’t even pay for that. And I’m afraid under the terms of the contract responsibility for payment devolves to Earth’s dominant life form after the 90 kilandra trial period, or 65.5 million of your years. Well, folks, the ships are in position around the outer planets and we’re ready to warp out.”
“Wait!” screamed the Secretary-General. “If you take those planets Earth’s orbit will change. Our civilization will be destroyed!”
“You can use the satellite to send a tachyon pulse to contact PlanetShield Incorporated if you want to negotiate a new contract. No hard feelings, I hope. We’re just doing our job.”
The speaker went silent. Telescopes and space probes quickly confirmed that Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune were gone.
“Hmm, think we could get by with five gas giants?” asked a delegate.
by submission | Jul 8, 2012 | Story |
Author : M.W. Fowler
She has legs that she keeps up with a regimen of oiling, tensioning checks, and recalculations. She could have downloaded all of her famous dances into them, but somehow, that didn’t seem right. After all, she wasn’t a toy, and she had earned her career through hours of sweaty practices and sweaty stage directors.
The wrong step, the wrong trip or jump, she reminds herself, and it will be given away, this game.
When she was young, her parents knew nothing of her dreams, her true dreams, and they made her dance. Traditional ballet. Neoclassical ballet. Contemporary ballet. And now this. Only the pointe shoes remain. She did not dance at prom. She stopped outside the overly waxed floor, her date’s hands—one on her waist, the other holding the spiked punch—and watched as her classmates danced with the freedom of ignorance to the dance. A freedom she had never known.
“Do you want to?” her date asked her. He was named Steven, and he nodded reluctantly towards the dance floor. “You know, the next song maybe?”
She ran her fingers softly along his at her waist and pulled his hand towards her breast. Steven left the punch on an empty table, and they found a dark spot of the world to park his car.
No. Her parents knew nothing of her dreams to dance the world into its cold, hard end. She would dance at it tomorrow. In front of millions, as they watched their galaxy fall away into an icy darkness that could no longer sustain life, she would dance from the safety of their new mobile planet in space. For them she would dance a dance that would end in the shaped shapeless becoming free.
She knows, though, now, after all of these years, that she was trying to free herself, not the dance. She is trapped inside the dance, inside the machinations of the world around her. They were floating away to their doom. Where were they going? Wherever it was, her legs had carried her there, and when she thought of it like that she began to wonder if she were really in control of the legs or if they had control of her.
She was old. What could they possibly want with her? They were the reason people talked about her age in wonderment: she dances like she is a girl. She was never a girl, she reminds herself, staring at the corner.
“And you,” she says to her legs, “you were never really legs.”
They rest, unmoving in their med-case, waiting for the engineer whose silence she pays handsomely to figure out if the trembling in her last performance was from the end of the world, like a change in the weather, or just the end of her career.
by submission | Jul 7, 2012 | Story |
Author : Thomas Desrochers
He thought that maybe he should be angry. After all, everything he had ever known was falling apart and there was nothing he could do about it. His hands shook with the energy of the blow-by self-consuming passion of intense anger, and his eyes were clouding up with tears. It really wasn’t fair.
Samuel screamed, shouted at the sky, shook his fists at the God he’d never believed in. Where was the bastard now, when everybody needed him more than ever? Gone, it seemed, to some other planet down the road where some other fledgling race needed their pot stirred and their morals directed.
Maybe this was God’s way of punishing man for overstepping his boundaries and assuming the role of creator when he was only the apprentice, like a parent who forces a child to figure out his own mess.
In the valley below Change writhed.
The news reports said it was an accident, an experiment in physics gone awry, changing the fundamental workings of space and time itself. As near as the scientists could tell there were no neutrons in the expanding haze. There were no electrons or protons, either. Really, there were no recognizable particles of any kind.
And it was growing, too, extending tendrils into real space like some sort of giant, horrifying, laws-of-the-Universe defying amoeba. Samuel watched one expand into the air above the zone of occurrence like some lance of the burning workings of the unknown, touching the air and turning it into something else. It was simultaneously too bright and too dark to see.
Samuel thought that he should be angry, but he wasn’t. He was tired. The world around him was falling apart and there was nothing that he could do about it, but hadn’t life always been that way?
The air had a cold November chill to it, and the leaves had all left for the winter. Everything seemed sharp, too in focus to be seen. Samuel sat back down in his lawn chair at the top of a hill over looking the End (Or was it the Beginning?) and picked up his bottle liquor. As he drank the warmth spread out through his stomach and into the deep and hard-to-reach places of his body and mind.
Surely there must be a way out of this, he thought, though for the life of him he couldn’t think of one. Perhaps if the same experiment that had gone wrong were repeated… But that was an impossibility now. The equipment was gone, the knowledge too. What else was there?
Most certainly there would be an end. That thought, at least, comforted Samuel in a way nothing else could. The black and bright nothings of something new lapped at the foot of the hill he was sitting on. Soon, while everybody else lived on running in circles from something that inevitably would always be front of them, Samuel’s life would be much more peaceful.
He gazed up, again, at the long fingers that extended further than he could see toward the cold reaches of space. There had always been a lingering question at the back of his mind his entire life: Was mankind’s dream of reaching the stars a joke? Was it the grandiose dream of a megalomaniac young race? He looked the the growing certainty before him. He looked at the shapeless hand stretched out toward Heaven, God, and Hell, and he knew.
Man had reached the stars and would grow out among the alien world and sights of space long after He was gone.
Samuel smiled.
He didn’t feel a thing.
