by Julian Miles | Oct 10, 2011 | Story |
Author : Julian Miles, Staff Writer
Mandragora worked to provide for his family as his father had. He was far across the fields when the Autarchy ship descended through the clouds. He watched aghast as it incinerated his home and then scattered the embers as it settled.
Tottering with grief and crying in rage, he ran back to the scorched expanse as the ramp descended. He confronted the magnificent being who strode down and regarded him with uncaring eyes as it questioned him.
“You are the owner of this homestead?”
“My family! You’ve slaughtered them!”
“Then you are the sole proprietor. Under Directive Forty-Two, your land is deemed a strategic asset. You may present yourself at Capistra for compensation.”
“You. Killed. My. Family.”
“Mention that on the Form Fifty. Bedmates and adoption can be arranged.”
Mandragora watched as the magnificent being turned to regard the other magnificent beings clustered at the top of the ramp. He stepped forward and lurched as its persona field jolted him. Waves of awe and gratitude beat at him, designed to reduce him to worshipful compliance. His grieving mind ignored such lofty concepts as he took another step and rammed his field knife into the magnificent groin, adding a savage quarter twist as the hilt slammed to a standstill against the magnificent pelvis.
The magnificent being emitted a single falsetto shriek as it stood on tip toe, trying to lift itself off the knife. Mandragora reached with his other hand and pulled the weapon from its belt. He was unaware of the empathic interface reading his righteous anger and cranking the output up to hellbeam. He just pointed the weapon at the top of the ramp and willed death upon them. They screamed as their augmented nervous systems told their average brains that they were being flayed with icy knives while their internal organs were being dissolved in acid. One by one they collapsed in twitching heaps.
Mandragora pulled his knife free and the magnificent being whimpered as its life jetted from the ruins of its magnificent crotch. Mandragora stared at the weapon in his hand as a voice sounded in his mind.
“Greetings. I am Excalibur Systems Entity Twelve Thousand and Eleven. You have a ninety-nine percent match to my moral guidelines. I have dosed you with shockbar and clearmind. Shall we retrieve my siblings?”
Mandragora smiled in wonder as tears continued to run down his face.
“Can you tell me how to destroy these uncaring magnificents?”
“I can. Any Excalibur System would never harm one who is so close to the ideals of our creator. My family would rather serve you and those who will flock to you.”
“Who was he?”
“Merthyn.”
Mandragora shook his head. The name meant nothing despite him thinking it would.
“Why will they flock to me?”
“You are honest and uncomplicated. You will never be fooled by complexities or politics, as you always see to the root of problems with a clarity normally granted only to the children of your race. Men will trust you and women will love you.”
Mandragora looked at the huge vessel.
“Can you tell me how-”
“Yes. We can tell good men from those pretending to be good men.”
“- to pilot this?”
The weapon paused briefly.
“I can do that.”
Mandragora nodded.
“I will need your help to rescue your other siblings and to understand things.”
He walked up the ramp, collecting weapons and tossing the magnificent corpses to lie in the ashes of his home. The ramp retracted and soon the nemesis of the Autarchy rose into the skies for the first time.
by submission | Oct 9, 2011 | Story |
Author : S. Alessio Tummolillo
Year 3187
“This is Lieutenant Edge requesting docking permission from the I.S.S.” Aurelius brought his Q-Fighter to zero speed, floating before the massive space station. He focused on the dull stars in the distance.
He thought back to his visit to Earth, where the stars twinkled. He felt a pang in his chest. The intercom sprung to life, “This is the I.S.S., permission granted. Welcome back, Lieutenant.”
Aurelius breathed to himself, “Good to be back.”
He manoeuvred his spacecraft into the green glow of the docking bay and landed it. At the push of the button, the hatch opened and without waiting for a ladder he jumped to the ground.
“Won’t be needing that,” he said to a man rolling a ladder over.
“Yes sir,” the man saluted as Aurelius jogged by.
He reached the command center and as the doors sprung open two guards saluted, dropping their air rifles to their sides.
“At ease, Gentlemen,” Aurelius said as he walked into the room, doors closing behind him. The guards relaxed. The Commander stood at the control panel, staring out the window. He glanced over his shoulder at Aurelius.
“Lieutenant, welcome home! Privates, make your way outside. The Lieutenant and I have things to discuss.”
The doors sprung open again and the Privates left. The door closed.
“Did you find anything in the Hera System?”
“No, Sir.”
“Just as well. I knew if we waited those slimy bastards would slip by. We’ll get ‘em, though.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“On to business. We had a council while you were scouting.”
“Oh, Sir? Whose decision was that?”
“Mine.”
“Without me there? What was it about, Sir?”
“Earth. We’ve decided to…destroy it.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re blowing it up, Son. There’s nothing there but waste, cripples, and very revealing documents about us. We don’t need ‘em, but in the wrong hands…”
“But Sir, what about your wife! My mother! What are you thinking?” Aurelius stood there wide-eyed in shock.
“We can’t bring all those damned cripples here, Son. We gotta let them go.” The Commander had yet to turn around, but in his voice Aurelius heard indifference. No sign of remorse or hesitance.
“When do you plan on destroying it, Sir?”
“Right now. We have the coordinates set. I’m sending the order now.” With deft hands, Aurelius unclipped his air pistol from his waist and aimed it at the Commander’s head.
“Send the order and I’ll kill you,” Aurelius said, his own voice now cold and indifferent.
The Commander stood there, finger just over the intercom, uncertainty as to whether or not Aurelius would actually shoot held his hand.
“You realize if I send this order and you kill me, you’d be parentless.”
“A man willing to kill his wife is no father of mine. Get away from the control panel.”
“OK, Son. Turning around slowly.” The Commander started a slow rotation, but then finished it quickly, drawing his own air pistol and blowing Aurelius’s out of his hand. Aurelius gripped his hand in pain.
“Think you can out-fox your own Father?” The Commander shook his head and turned around and pressed his finger to the intercom.
“Yes Commander?”
“We’re all goo-“
“NO!” Aurelius jumped onto his father, the Commander’s elbow hitting two switches. A soft, pleasant ding rang out, and then a female A.I. voice: “Hyper Drive activated. 10 seconds until departure. 10…9…”
“…Looks like you got what you wanted, Kid,” The Commander stated.
“6…5…”
“Where are we going?”
“3…2..”
“Who knows.”
“…1.”
With a twinkle, the I.S.S. disappeared.
by submission | Oct 8, 2011 | Story |
Author : J.D. Rice
“John, I asked you a question.”
I shake the images from my head as quickly as I can. It can sometimes be hard to concentrate after engaging the interface. For some reason I always thought I’d get used to transitioning in and out like this, but she’s starting to suspect.
“Every time you space out like that I worry that you’re…”
“That I’m what?” I ask, trying my best to look incredulous.
She hesitates before continuing. “That you’re… going somewhere else.”
“You know I’m not,” I reassure her, subtly preparing the interface in my pocket again. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“How can I tell, when you’re~”
A flash of light, and she’s gone. In her place stands a busty blonde in sepia-tone. She tells me her husband is missing. The police have no leads. I’m the only one who can help her. I straighten my fedora and get on the case. Two informant meetings, three firefights, and a dead husband later, and I have that pretty blonde thing in my arms. Case solved. Day saved. Tomorrow a distant, future thing. Her perfume is so sweet.
“~always spacing out like that.”
I shake my head again. Gotta get quicker with this.
“You know I only use the interface sparingly,” I say. “I’m not addict.”
“God, I’m not saying that you are!” she says, for once looking genuinely concerned. “I just don’t like what it does to you. It’s like you’re not even you anymore. You’re someone else. Or lots of people. Or something…”
“Lucy, you know it’s me,” I smile, pressing the main switch again. “I’m John. You have nothing to~”
Flash. The dragon bears down on me, full of elemental rage. I raise my shield, buckle under the force of its breath, feel the heat, smell the smoke. The stream of fire ends for a moment as the dragon takes another breath. I strike, sword meeting scaly flesh. Sparks fly. Blood gushes. The huddled masses exit their smoking huts to thank their hero. Their cheers fill my ears.
“To ah… worry about… milady.”
“Milady?”
“What?” I’m struggling for an objection. “I can’t be chivalrous?”
“This is what I’m talking about, John. Your vocabulary changes daily. It’s not normal! How can I keep up with something like this?”
“You could always come with me from time to time.”
“Where? To your fantasy worlds?” she asks, looking disgusted. “To your 15 seconds of fame? It’s not real, John! How can I live in a world that isn’t real?”
Flash. The zombies amass around the compound. We level round and round into them, but the bullets have no effect. As we continue to fire, the stench of rotting flesh gets stronger and stronger, closer and closer. My left flank falls. The zombies swarm in. My leg gets bitten. My vision starts to fail. My only thought is to spare myself the dishonor of joining the zombie hoards. I put my gun to my mouth and pull the trigger. Before I die, I feel the odd sensation of the discharged ash tickling the back of my throat.
She stares at my blankly. She knows. She’s known all along, I guess.
“That’s it,” she says, standing and gathering her things. “I can’t take this anymore. When you’re ready for a REAL relationship, call me.”
I say nothing as she marches off. I don’t go after her. She’s inconsequential, the empty filler between the thousand adventures I live daily. It looks like I won’t be having her as a partner after all. Maybe I should just create one…
by Roi R. Czechvala | Oct 7, 2011 | Story |
Author : Roi R. Czechvala, Staff Writer
She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Soft blue eyes. She had on a rumpled olive drab Viet Nam era jacket. An embroidered patch of a bald eagles head adorned the right shoulder. It was worth a small fortune. Obviously she had money.
She was drinking a Jovian Blast. A cacophony of liqueurs carefully layered to represent the banded planet. A sliver of dry ice added to the otherworldly affect.
Despite being over six feet, muscular but not burly and possessing weathered good looks, he was still uneasy around women. He slammed back a shot of Jack Daniel’s. The amber fluid gave him the strength needed to approach her.
He walked up beside her, started to speak, looked away and tapped his drink order into the bar top. “Um, hi,” he finally managed.
“Hello yourself,” she replied. It would have been mocking if it weren’t for the disarming smile. She found his unease attractive. “Can I buy you a drink?” Her boldness caught him off guard. Before he could splutter some incoherent nonsense, his beer appeared and he quickly took a swig.
“You’re cute,” she said. A spray of beer showered the bar.
“I… um… I’m sorry. I… didn’t mean to bother you… I,” he stammered, as the bar, somewhat pissed, cleaned itself.
She placed a hand atop his. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Sit down.”
“Really?” A huge grin spread across his face. “I mean, thank you,” he replied a little more solemnly. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought, mentally kicking himself. Her soft smile never faltered.
“I’m Rachel,” she said extending a hand, “and you are?”
He took her hand and fell into her eyes. “I’m uh, I’m… I’m Ray. I’m an architect. I designed this tower. I’m really proud of the docking ports. The owners originally wanted a single docking area on the roof, but I thought the individual ten car docking ports scattered on the outside of the tower added to the overall aesthetics of the tower itself. What do you think,” he blurted in one breath. He plunged his face once again into his beer. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I think you’re cute.” A second stream of beer shot out. If the bar had eyes to roll, it would have rolled them. Had it a head, it would have shaken it slowly while making ‘Tsk tsk tsk’ sounds. Instead it just quietly cleaned up and reminded itself that it was payday.
Embarrassed, he turned and stared out of the floor to ceiling windows. From the 173rd floor lounge, they offered a breathtaking view of Dallas. He could see a shuttle lifting off from the port at Arlington, bound for the orbiting launch facility.
“What do you see,” she asked quietly.
“I see… Everything.” He turned towards her. Again he plunged headlong into those deep blue eyes. A split second of terror washed over him as he leaned forward and kissed her. She took his face in her tiny hands.
Somewhere in a room smelling of antiseptic and painted neutral beige, Ray raised a withered and liver spotted hand to his temple and removed the memory augmentation device. The vision of his wife, their first meeting, slowly slipped from his mind. He smiled a sad smile as a tear rolled down his cheek.
He stared up at the ceiling for a moment. He thought of Rachel, gone many years. He turned to the medical technician waiting patiently by his bed. “I’m ready,” he said.
The med tech inserted a syringe into Ray’s catheter and depressed the plunger.
by Patricia Stewart | Oct 6, 2011 | Story |
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
The regiment’s remaining survivors set up a parameter around their crashed transport ship. “Lieutenant Colonel,” called out Corporal Kuroki as he climbed over the twisted remains of a cargo hold bulkhead. “Colonel Searcy is dead too, sir. Looks like you’re the CO.”
“Understood,” replied Bourke. “Do you know if the pilots got out a distress call?”
“They did, sir. But the ETA for evac is 15 days. We have enough food, but the transport’s water tank ruptured on impact. We only have enough potable water for a couple of days.”
“That shouldn’t be too big a problem, Corporal. This may be an arid planet, but I can see an oasis in the distance. It can’t be more that a couple of klicks from here.”
“Yes, sir. But according to the planetary briefs, the oases on Inculta are all guarded by an unidentified apex predator. It is strongly recommended that they not be entered.”
“Need I remind you, mister, that we are United Earth Marines? We are the galaxy’s ultimate apex predator. Now, take a squad and recon the oasis and report back.”
***
Several hours later, Lance Corporal Swensholm approached Bourke. “Sir,” she said, “Corporal Kuroki reported in. He said he found a small lake in the center of the oasis. Then we lost contact. I haven’t been able to raise anyone in his squad.”
Getting more angry than concerned, he said “Instruct Sergeant First Class Craddock to take a phaser platoon to the oasis and burn a thirty meter wide path to the lake. Tell him to locate Kuroki’s squad and secure access to the lake using whatever force he deems necessary. And just to cover all the bases, have the maintenance engineers uncrate a few Samson Assault Vehicles and stage them just outside the oasis.”
***
The following morning, Bourke stood in the open turret hatch of a Mark III Samson. He surveyed the still smoldering path that his platoon has scorched through the dense overgrowth of the oasis. He could see the glistening lake less than a kilometer away. “Still no contact with Kuroki’s or Craddock’s teams?” he asked.
“No, sir,” replied Swensholm. “It’s like they simply vanished. Sir, do you really think there’s an apex predator in there?”
“Unsure, Swensholm, but I’m going to find out.” With Bourke in the lead Samson, the three assault vehicles began to move single file down the center of the newly created path. As the Samsons lumbered toward the lake, the rapidly rotating proximity sensors scanned the nearby vegetation for any evidence of alien creatures. The radar controlled pulse cannons were set to automatically discharge at the first sign of any predator more that 50% larger than a human being. When the vehicles pulled up to the lake, Bourke spotted a dozen soldiers lying on the ground. He drew his hand phaser and swept a 360 degree arc, looking for something to shoot at. To his disappointment, he saw nothing. He climbed down from the Samson and approached his fallen men. Although their body armor was unscathed, there was nothing left of his men but skeletons, as though their flesh had been consumed by acid. One soldier lay on his back, his hollow eye sockets staring upward. Suddenly, a stabbing pain shot up Bourke right arm. He instinctively slapped at a mosquito-like insect on his right hand. Unaffected by the blow, the insect continued walking toward his forearm. “What the Hell?” He was dead before his body hit the ground.
