by Duncan Shields | Sep 5, 2013 | Story |
Author : Duncan Shields, Staff Writer
I suppose if it was anything that drew me to her, it was the scars on her face. Four parallel lines on one cheek. Too precise to be accidental, I assumed, but too faint to be for show. Too far apart to be a bar code, and just near enough to each other to look like four years on a prison wall without the fifth crossing them yet. Like she’s fallen asleep on a bread cutting machine for a second and let it heal naturally.
I probably wouldn’t have noticed them if it wasn’t for the lighting in the club. The black light near the bar lit up the lines of scar tissue.
Yeah, she had beautiful eyes. Yeah, she had great skin. Yeah, her body was amazing. We were all hot back then. Every single one of us. It was that kind of place and most of us had fake ID.
That made her scars stand out all the more to me. They could easily be covered with a little make up. They were light enough to be removed with plastic surgery.
It wasn’t until I saw the other three of her that I realized just how rich she must have been. She was obviously slumming it here.
The one with no scars must’ve been The Prime, I thought. I was sure that another one of her had two scars and one of her had three.
I liked the four-scar one. Maybe it was just that I saw her first but I like to think it was because there was something reckless in her eyes.
The other three of her were dancing in a circle around their purses. They were wearing identical dresses. Her muscle-slab bodyguards were hovering in the crowd. Everyone was watching and everyone was jealous.
The show of wealth was obscene. She was here to rub our noses in the copies of her she could afford.
The wealthy could only afford one clone with a memory dump and that clone would only be awoken in case of an emergency.
Two was whispered for the richest.
I’d never heard of more two.
There was no way that they were quadruplets with today’s fertility laws.
To this day, I’m not sure how I got the courage but maybe it was something in her eyes.
I walked up to four-scar and said hello. Her name was Angela.
——-
That was two days ago in LA. She had a routine prepped to fool her guards that worked when we left the club. I’m in a tin-shack barter motel with her in Uganda now. She knows her Prime’s secret accounts. We drained them. We are off the grid. We use cash. We’re in a part of the world that doesn’t need IDs. She cut out the tracking device. They’re still hunting for us.
I know it won’t be long until they get to us but looking at her, sheets pulled up around her as the dawn sun comes pouring in the through the window and across the most expensive runaway in the history of planet Earth, I feel like my probable death will be worth it.
by submission | Sep 4, 2013 | Story |
Author : Mickey Hunt
“Welcome to the edge of the universe,” I said cheerfully. “The very edge.”
The clutch of tourists easing into my parent’s store seemed overawed. At night, part of our sky is lit with nebulae, pulsars, galaxy clusters, and all sorts of stuff, but the rest of the sky is black, pitch black. As far as anyone knows, no electromagnetic phenomena, gravity, or nothing ever emanates from out there.
“We’re stocked with souvenirs, snacks, drinks, contraband cigarettes, and camping supplies at wallet gouging prices,” I said as the customers fanned out among the aisles. “Hot showers cost a fortune per minute.”
“Excuse me, young fellow. Postcards?” the sweet little grandma asked.
I stepped around the counter to show her the rack for our best seller: a jet black card with the caption ‘Beyond the Horizon’.
“I’d like a dozen,” she murmured to herself.
Tourists. I don’t figure what they’ve come to see, but they know how to spend.
“Where’s the hotel?” a man in a sweater and shorts asked.
“Our planet doesn’t have hotels, sir, since it’s a park, except for the few concessionaires like us. If you want a room, you’ll have to stay a parsec or two closer toward the Center.”
“That’s too bad,” he said. “We’ve come so far already.”
“We have plenty of camping spaces,” I said. “Campers bring lawn chairs, extra blankets, and sit up all night staring into the dark void.”
“Do you rent gear?”
“Whatever you need.”
#
Early in the offseason, two of my school buddies thought we should take an adventure. Dad owns a junker Galaxship that once carried the mail, so my friends and I took it apart, cleaned everything, recharged the quantum cells, put it back together with the safeties disabled, and loaded up all the canned beans, frozen steak, citrus concentrate, and beer it could hold. We charted a course directly away from the Center and launched.
At first it was fun. I mean, because even scientists never attempt this. Before long it got boring, but honestly, when we weren’t lifting weights and watching movies, or playing video games, we slept. Outside, absolutely everywhere was black, black, black as we traveled four years as close to c² as we dared.
Then one of my buddies, Janos, said, “We should stop.” So we did, and other than the ship not rattling and shaking, we’d have hardly known. We looked homeward to find that the universe had shrunk to an infinitesimal spark of light.
“Holy Higgs Boson!” Janos said. “We flew faster than we thought.”
I took a picture.
A quiet minute afterwards, my other buddy, Rasper, said, “I’m scared. Let’s go back now.” So, we did. The tiny dot of the universe grew until four years later (minus a month) our planet emerged into view.
When I walked into the store, Mom asked, “How was it?”
“Okay. I’m glad to be home. It’s not so bad here.”
“That’s how I felt,” Dad said. “You’re just in time. The tourist crush begins this weekend.”
Anyway, that picture I took of our infinitesimal spark? We couldn’t decide on a caption, but we make a ton of money from the new postcard regardless. Maybe, just maybe I can now afford to go someplace really fantastic and astonishing.
by submission | Sep 3, 2013 | Story |
Author : C.L. Guerrieri
I sat at the monitoring bay as he stood there, roughened hands folded calmly behind his stained, dark brown overcoat. His receded cheeks mostly hidden by a thin, graying beard and a matted ponytail, the captain smiled as his thinned eyes squinted out the front bridge window, glazing deeply at the ice asteroid field in front of him. The lasers burned into the pale blue ice as our tractor modules hauled them back into our cargo bay, emitting soft pings for every completed cycle.
My daydreaming was interrupted by soft words I almost didn’t hear.
“Please, speak your mind. Silence can only bring miscommunication,” he said.
He knew I was worried about being the only ones out here.
“Well, sir, it’s just—You know how our scouts can’t find cloaked ships. Being alone in null-sec doesn’t worry you?” I asked.
He maintained his gaze at me before shaking his head.
“Not in the slightest.”
This seemed like a horrible lack of planning, but I decided not to press. He always had a plan.
As if on divine cue, a half dozen dark beige shapes popped into view above the belt only a half-kilometer away. Their dark, spiny tips, typical of missile-loaded gunboats and stealth bombers, meant only one thing:
Pirates.
We were far too late for warp, but the crew did as usual, setting a warp course for a nearby planet. A warning light popped on in my panel, indicating that the worst of my fears had come true.
“They’ve scrambled our drives. Webbed our ignition too. We can’t escape.” I murmured.
“Not to worry,” came the calm response.
The main comm screen popped on, the static clearing to reveal a tanned, well-groomed, dark-haired head sneering at us with a hollow grin.
After no words from the captain, he began:
“You know how this goes down. We—“
The captain interrupted, holding up his hand, silencing the man at once.
“Glad you could join us, at last,” the captain calmly stated. “Today was becoming quite dull.”
The captain hit a small black button on the front dashboard of the bridge and, a moment later, numerous faded-blue Orion-class laser and missle gunboats warped in around us with dull thwumps.
The pirate’s face contorted and drained of color.
“FIRE!” the pirate screamed.
Their missiles released, but it was too late. The blue gunboats fired their lasers and missiles, detonating the pirate missiles prematurely as missiles ripped through the pirate hulls with bright-orange blooms, sending dull booms of pressure waves cascading over our hull.
As the blue ships realigned for another warp, the captain turned, sensing my anger at him.
“They,” pointing to the destroyed ships, “are, or were, experts at hiding. They needed something to draw them out. Besides, I don’t like to quit.”
“Please resume cycling whenever you are ready, Erin,” he said as he turned back toward the front viewing panel. I pressed a few buttons on my display as the dull hum picked up, casting the green arcs of light back out to the rocks. After what felt like too long, he turned and looked at me.
“You must be tired. Feel free to go rest.”
Grateful, I nodded and made my way towards the back of the bridge and turned as I walked out. He was still standing there, facing the asteroids, hands behind his back. He began humming a verse from a tune, an old naval song every miner knew as a rite of passage. I sang the verse in time with his humming in my head as I headed out.
Now the moral of this story is
As plain as plain can be,
Don’t ever trust a sailor
An inch above your knee.
by submission | Sep 2, 2013 | Story |
Author : Timothy Marshal-Nichols
Dearest, Humblest and most Obedient Sir,
Please be informed, as agreed in mutual undertaking, that yourself named Mutch, first name, Alfred, are contracted to duty and that the lease of said duty is due forthwith to expire. Thus upon the thirtieth inst of this month, September, of this year, twenty-thousand-and-thirteen, upon such time, thus the hour before midday, you are required, as per contract, to be attendant upon your place of known residence. This residence to be within the road of Hartington Drive, within the city of Liverpool, within the county of Merseyside, within the country of England, such house, a three story residence, bearing the number upon said road to be twenty-seven. For upon said date, for upon said time, attending upon said place, upon morrow, whereupon you shall die.
It is not for you, Mr Alfred C. Mutch, to dispute said contract. May I remind you of the sanctity of such contract, founded within law and custom, thus approved by legal council upon this land and freely entered into by yourself in full knowledge of the right and proper consequence thus of said contract becoming requisite and thereupon enacted. Your request for an appeal is void and otherwise inapplicable. There is no higher court with which to request stay of enactment. There can be no council or appeal, no committee to hear such case, the time has come, you must die forthwith.
For Mr R.M. businessman, pillar of the realm, philanthropist to the poor and needy, noble and honourable sir, doer of many charitable works, benefactor of the destitute, has declared use thereof of various of your body’s natural organs, not here specified, and claims thereof there use within his person. Thus your great and illustrious benefactor has need of your body, various parts of, to improve his welfare, appearance and comfort. Whereas yourself, Mr Alfred C. Mutch, miserable wretch that you are, worm that you are, scum that you are, lived by the goodwill, grace, favour and means of Mr R.M. Therefore you posses no right to exercise such ingratitude, forbearance or obstruction as to deny Mr R.M. his legal right and your eligible duty. You have no alternate but to, with immediate effect, die.
It was some twenty-one years ago that you signed and was witnessed this contract with our company. Whereby we established, through suitable tests and medical procedure, your compatibility with Mr R.M. as to body, blood and temper and found the perfect compatibility. Thereby on contract your good self was genitally tagged, as your person shall be well aware, and thus there can become no escapement or abatement, we, the executors of said contract, shall always know the whereabouts of your force. Thence always have the performance to enact the substance of said declaration. Since contract date you have received the payments upon the declaration without let or hindrance upon our part. Each month you have received such agreed sum that our presence within the contract has been accomplished without any complaint or dispute on your part. Now whereupon it is time to exercise our utilization upon this agreement. Thus for legally agreed harvesting to proceed your death must be enacted.
May I finally remind you to attend your abode upon this morrow, as agreed. You can be assured that, commiserate with quality of harvesting, your death will be as painless as assets and practicality should allow.
Your Obedient Servant, D.
The Harvester of Human Organs.
by Patricia Stewart | Sep 1, 2013 | Story |
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
It had been four days since the ship’s doctor had quarantined the galley and shut down the deck’s gravity plates, and Captain Carson was becoming concerned. Not about the unwanted patient that was hold up there, but about his ship, its crew, and his now unachievable delivery schedule. Determined to regain control of his ship, the captain floated into the ad hock sickbay to confront his chief medical officer. “Mary, how much longer is this going to take? I have a schedule to maintain. I can’t afford to spend a week drifting around interstellar space because of that damn stowaway.” He pointed to the large gelatinous lifeform strapped down to a stainless steel food preparation station in the center of the room.
“Who let you in here?” snapped Dr. Breckinridge. “And put a mask on.” The medical staff suddenly began to scramble around the patient. Clearly, the captain realized, something significant was happening. Just then, a pinkish fog erupted form the undulating red blob. The captain instinctively began to gag as the vile smelling fog entered his throat. “As you can see, Captain,” protested the doctor, “we’re pretty busy right now. Please wait outside. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
A half hour later, the doctor and her staff drifted into the main corridor where the captain was not-so-patiently waiting. As the last medical technician exited the galley, he shut the hatch, and began entering codes into an adjacent control panel.
“Well Doctor, I’m through mincing words. Now that it’s over, when can I jettison your patients out the air lock?”
“Not so fast, Cliff. We have to gradually reduce the temperature in the galley to minus 270K, so the vapors can condense in the correct sequence. Then the liquid will need to accrete, polymerize, and crosslink. After that, we need to pull a vacuum…”
“I don’t want the details, Doctor. I want a day, and a time!”
“Fine, if you insist. The day after tomorrow, around 1400. But really, Cliff, what is your problem? Don’t you care about the sanctity of life?”
“Not when it comes to Etheronians. But unfortunately, I can’t do whatever I want. Regulations force me to shut down my reactors and provide assistance, which I have, by the way. I just don’t understand why the world needs to come to a stop just because an Etheronian hitches a ride on a starship. By the way, did you figure out how that damn thing got onto my ship in the first place?”
The doctor smiled. “Ship’s captains have been asking themselves that question for centuries. No one seems to know. It just happens. You should be savoring the moment? The rest of the crew isn’t spittin’ comets, like you.”
“Well, maybe the crew likes eating Q-rations. I don’t.” The captain pirouetted and pulled himself toward the turbolift. A few minutes later, the captain walked onto the bridge. It was comforting, he realized, to feel the pull of artificial gravity again. He strided to the command chair and sat down. That’s when he noticed that the entire bridge crew was staring at him.
“Well?” asked Lieutenant Faunce at Opps.
“They will be gone in two days, Lieutenant. Then things can get back to normal.”
Lieutenant Faunce put her hands on her hips and scowled through murderous, squinting eyes. “You know, sir, that’s not what I wanted to know.”
“Oh, very well, Lieutenant, it’s a girl.”
