Tag: fiction

prompt: Center your story on the moment a character realizes their (or someone else’s) intentions aren’t so good or noble.

available at Reedsy

The “All Hands” alarm blared through the ship three times. Jess stood at the ready in her armor, side-handle baton in hand. The boarding team stood behind her, the breaching airlock in front of her.

The slight shifts in artificial gravity, along with the hum of the engines increasing, told her that the ship was trying to run. She listened to the inter-ship comms for a few seconds. “Why do they always run?” she muttered, before switching back to local.

“It looks like they’re trying to run. Prepare for a forced dock.” She looked at the other troops in their armor. Some human enough to pass behind the armor, others with too many limbs, outlandish proportions, and one that stood no taller than her knees. “I don’t have to tell you to be ready for resistance. Watch for weapons.”

“Aye, aye!” they responded in unison.

The thump of the ship against their prey could be felt through the deck. The sound of the seizure clamps extending and tearing into the hull of the target ship carried through the bulkhead. It was followed by the sound of air rushing against the outside of their ship, cut off in a matter of seconds by the emergency seals inflating around the outside of the breaching device.

The light above the airlock turned from amber to green, and Jess pushed the button with her elbow. “Let’s go!”

The airlock doors opened to reveal the cutter on the inside of the breaching clamp finishing its creation of a round hole in the hull of the other ship. The disc of metal crashed into the floor of the target ship, which was about 120 degrees off from the orientation of their own.

With a precision that made it seem like they did this dozens of times a day, the troops poured through into the enemy ship, falling into the differently oriented gravity in such a way that they landed on their feet and on the move.

Most of the pirates they encountered gave up without a fight. The pirate crew was composed of several different species, but all of them seemed unwell. It was obvious that many of them were on the verge of starvation.

The troops met no resistance until they reached the bridge. The captain, a beetle-like creature, was communicating in an unknown language on the FTL comm-link, trying to regain control of the ship’s controls that had been taken over by the interdiction vessel.

Jess moved without hesitation, wading through the fire from beam and energy weapons to the captain. “Interstellar Piracy Interdiction Police. Step away from the comm and raise all your manipulators.”

The captain fired at her with a slug thrower. Through the armor, it was like being punched in the ribs.

“Ow,” she said, as she swung the baton and hit the captain where the head segment joined the thorax. The captain went down and lay unconscious, looking to Jess like a beetle playing dead.

The rest of the bridge crew stopped firing as they realized their weapons were having no effect. Her team was binding the last of the bridge crew as the follow-on team made it to the bridge.

“Report,” the Lieutenant said, pointing a tentacle at Jess.

“Captain here needs medical,” Jess said, pointing at the beetle-like creature that was beginning to stir. “No other injuries we’re aware of, but the entire crew are possibly sick and most definitely starved.”

“Noted.” The Lieutenant looked around the bridge. “When did you find the time to question the detainees?”

“Question? I haven’t questioned anyone.”

“Yet you have determined their health?” he asked.

“Yeah, Orbil, I looked at them.” Jess sighed. “You should spend more time around warm-bloods like myself. Of course, I should spend some more time around cold-bloods like you, because I wouldn’t be able to tell unless you were on death’s door.”

“Yes, as you say, then. I’ll see to it that medics inspect all the detainees.” He slithered over and took command of the scene. “The breach team is released, except for you, Sergeant.”

“What is it, sir?” Jess asked.

“Commander wants to see you in his office.”

“Will do.”

The commander’s office was decorated with nothing more than the flag of the Galactic Union, the flag Chicago, and a copy of the GU Resolution that formed the Interstellar Piracy Interdiction Police.

The commander, one of the dozen or so humans on the ship, was an imposing figure, despite his short stature, close-cropped red hair, and ever-rosy cheeks. He nodded at Jess as she entered.

“Commander McKinney, Sergeant Bexley. You wanted to see me, sir?” Jess stood at attention, out of her armor but still in the undersuit.

“Have a seat, Jess. We can drop the formalities.”

“What’s wrong, Mac?” she asked as she sat in the chair. “Did the state of those guys bother you as much as it did me?”

“It’s a damn shame,” he said, “and it gives some idea why they’re pirates, but that’s not what I wanted to see you about.”

“What is it, then?”

“Lieutenant’s exam is coming up. You ready for it?” he asked.

“Yeah. Piece of cake.”

“Good. Because when you pass, you’re taking Lieutenant Orbil’s place.”

Jess stiffened. “Wait. I’m off the boarding team? Screw that, I’ll skip the exam.”

“No, no. You’ll still be on the boarding team. We should have a Lieutenant there anyway.”

Jess relaxed. “So why doesn’t Orbil lead?”

“IPIP rules require armor for all boarding team members.” Mac shrugged. “Nobody makes armor that works for a squishy, tentacle-having, no-bones, squishing through tiny holes, canaramian.”

Jess tilted her head. “Mac! That sounded incredibly speciesist.”

Mac laughed. “He knows what I think about him.”

“I do,” Orbil answered from the door, “you stiff-jointed, topple-walking, non-stretching … uh … human. Damn, I ran out quick on that one. We still on for drinks later?”

“Yeah. See you then.” Mac waved as the lieutenant slithered out as quietly as he had entered.

“Where’s Orbil going?” When Mac looked confused, Jess clarified. “If I’m taking Orbil’s spot.”

“Orbil’s being promoted to commander and taking my spot.”

“What the hell? They can’t fire you!”

Mac sighed. “They’re not. I’m leaving to run for office on Earth. We’ve done some good work, and it looks good for my resumé, but….”

“It’s time to move on to greener pastures?”

“Something like that.” He pulled a pair of rocks glasses out of a drawer and poured them each a finger of Scotch.”

Jess downed her drink and set the glass on one of the coasters on the commander’s desk. “Just like that? I thought you were a cop for life.”

“I’m going to ask you a question, but I don’t want you to answer me, just yourself. And be honest.” Mac poured them each another shot. “Why did you become a cop, and why did you apply for the interdiction team?”

“Well, I—”

“Nope,” Mac cut her off. “Don’t answer me. Just keep it to yourself. The real reason. Every cop either says they joined because it’s a family tradition, or to ‘help people.’ I know your family isn’t a cop family, and if you think you joined to help people, consider how you felt when you thought you wouldn’t be leading the boarding team.”

Jess sipped at the drink and let the thoughts swirl. “Hmm. I always thought of being a cop as noble somehow, like the protector of others.”

Mac leaned forward. “Let me guess. Given the choice between protecting others from behind a desk and jumping into the fray to nab the bad guys, you’ll always choose the latter.”

“Yeah. Not the greatest of motivations.”

“Hey,” Mac’s voice was soft. “Sometimes why we do a thing, isn’t as important as that we do it. Every pirate we catch, every ship we capture, reduces risk for civilians. The job itself can be noble, even if we who do it, aren’t.”

“I guess ‘helping people’ is a convenient lie to convince myself that I’m still a good person,” she said.

“You are, Jess. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have been worried about the condition of the pirates.” Mac chuckled. “Hell, if you weren’t a good person, you could get the same rush in the ring, fighting for money.”

prompt: Include an unreliable narrator or character in your story.

available at Reedsy

Humans are a noisy bunch of apes, that goes without saying. The fact that they broadcast their noise to the universe at large, well, it was bound to have consequences. Whether those are net positive or negative remains to be seen.

“You weren’t part of any contact team.” The disbelief was plain in Orl’s voice and feelers.

“I told you,” Lir replied, “I was a maintenance tech two on the contact ship. I wouldn’t want to be on the contact team. All politics and shit … boring.”

“But you said you saw humans?” Orl’s feelers flicked in confusion. “How does a maintenance tech—”

“Grade two,” Lir interrupted. “I had some down time and found it wandering around near the officer’s lounge.”

“What did it look like?”

Lir’s feelers pulled in close. “Disgusting. It was walking around with one of those things between its legs.”

“It wasn’t covered up?”

“No. And it was big, too.”

“The thing?”

“No, that was like in the archives. The human. It was as tall as two of me.”

“I thought,”  Orl said, “they were more like our size or smaller.”

“This one was huge!” Lir waved off the less interesting part of the encounter. “But it looked at me and said, ‘Advantageous day-start’ plain as if it was hatched in my home crèche.”

“How did it know our language?”

“When the universities began decoding their languages and translating the human network, the academia shared all that back on the human’s network.” Lir’s feelers waved in annoyance. “Academia always making things more dangerous for the military.”

“But why was it wandering around unguarded?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I was more interested in learning everything I could from it.”

“Like what?”

“You know those Artificial Intelligence things they have? I had to know how those work.”

“And this one knew?”

Lir’s feelers flicked in an affirmative motion. “It said that’s common knowledge. Something they call a Machine-ical Jerk.”

Orl’s feelers again flicked in confusion. Beyond that, a slight tilt of the head segment got Lir talking again.

“A Machine-ical Jerk is a human trapped in a box and forced to perform some task over and over. The first one was forced to play a strategy game, but the new ones answer questions and make up stories and stuff.”

“Why? Is it a punishment?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s something they enjoy. Some sort of fetish or something, you know how humans are.”

Orl tapped a foot on the floor. “I still want to know why it was uncovered.”

“Ugh. Well, I got around to asking that. I wish I hadn’t.”

Orl’s feelers made a “get to it” motion.

“You know how there’s a lot of them doing weird things with each other when they’re uncovered? It’s compulsory. Every human has to do that with at least one other human and post the results on the network.” Lir leaned in close and whispered, “It said it’s a huge experiment to make magic real for humans.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Lir leaned back. “That human was one of their ‘Champions.’ It was famous on the network for doing the ‘research’ with a full million other humans. It was looking for one of us to do it with.”

“Ick! Really?”

“Really. It waved its thing at me, so I just said, ‘No’ and showed it my ovipositor was far more impressive.”

“What did it do?” Orl asked.

“It did that thing where water comes out of the orb-slots on its head, then it kicked the door to the officer’s lounge so hard it ripped the wall free on both sides.”

“They can’t be that strong.”

“Haven’t you been studying their network? You should look it up.” Lir handed Orl a chit with a lookup link for the translated human network. “This has all sorts of information about them, and the human I talked to proved a lot of it.”

“What happened after it mangled the door?”

“I thought it might be dangerous after that. It was twice my size and probably four times my weight, but I couldn’t let it rampage through the ship. I told it that it would have to fight me before it could do any more damage.” Lir struck a fighting pose. “It didn’t know that I’m an advanced master instructor of kannat, both standard and purtet-karnon.”

“Advanced master?”

“Yeah. It didn’t know, but then again, almost no one does. I’m trusting you with it because you seem like the sort to keep a secret. I used to be in the records as the youngest master, youngest advanced master, and youngest instructor until the military hired me to train special forces. They wiped all my records and put me in as a maintenance tech for cover.”

“Hm. Then what?”

“This.” Lir swept through some clumsy movements, until ending off-balance and panting. “I used its size against it, with the purtet-karnon techniques.”

“I see.”

“Yeah, when it ended up on the floor, with its head stuffed between its two legs, it gave up.” Lir posed. “It told me I was the toughest thing it had ever come across and gave me a chit with its comm info. As I walked it off the ship, it kept begging me to stay in contact.”

“Wait—”

“What?”

Orl’s head-part tilted. “If it was uncovered, where was it carrying the chit?”

“I don’t know. I threw it out, anyway. Those humans don’t impress me, you know.”

 Orl’s feelers waved in a pleading motion. “If you can think of anything else about the humans you can help me with, I’d appreciate it. I’m shipping off to the embassy on the human home world in the morning.”

“I don’t know enough about human politics to be much help.” Lir made a noncommittal gesture, said, “Check that network resource I gave you,” and left.  

Orl didn’t find the time to look at the network right away. Instead, the first chance came while in transit.

Being in transit with over a dozen humans, though, Orl was too busy looking for any of them that were anywhere near the size that Lir had described. No such luck. None of them were uncovered, either.

One sat beside Orl and began tapping on a comm device. A mechanical voice came from the device. “Hi. I’m <strange-sound> with the human ambassador’s office. Are you part of the new embassy your people are setting up on Earth?”

“I’m just a security guard,” Orl answered, and watched as the device translated his speech to human symbols.

“Sorry I’m not speaking your language directly,” the human said through the comm’s voice, “but we don’t have the right physical characteristics to make the sounds you do.”

Orl thought about Lir’s claims. Maybe the human champion was using a translation device? Whatever. With a secret unlock sequence of feelers, Orl opened the device that had been assigned and inserted the data chit.

The human looked over and began making the strange noise that humans make when they find something humorous. “What?” Orl asked.

The human pointed at the screen. “I can’t read the text, but I know that site. That’s Reddit. I wouldn’t believe anything you read there.”

Orl looked at the top entry. “Human Champion Accidentally Destroys Alien Embassy Ship,” the headline said. The next said, “Humans Will Mate With Anything — It’s Magic.”

Orl looked back at the human. “All the articles on this site are untrue?”

The human moved its head up and down. “Pretty much, yeah. Oh, I see the subreddit in the link. That one’s a fiction writer’s group.”

“Fiction, you say.” Orl looked up Lir’s service record. Dishwasher, lower class, joined after First Contact, busted twice for disobeying orders and drummed out of service. Closing the device, Orl said, “I believe I must make up my own mind about humans.”

“Good idea,” the human said through the device.

prompt: Center your story around a mysterious forest fire, disappearance, or other strange event.

available at Reedsy

“Impossible!” Fleet Commander Nerl gouged a deep groove in the conference table with his rending claw.

“Commander, I would have to say that while it is highly improbable, the evidence is against impossibility.” Political Advisor Grun laid her far larger rending claw on the commander’s shoulder. “It is up to the fleet to figure out where they’ve gone, while you determine the fleet’s response.”

“But the entire forest … gone … disappeared in the time we spent in transit from the realspace translation.” Nerl swung his tail across the bench and dropped to sit with a heavy thump. Grun’s claw maintained its position through the move.

The intimacy of her claw so near his throat, and the way she now stood over his slumped figure reminded him who was in charge. She clicked a small device and the view on the wall-sized screen changed into a split view.

On one side, a lush forest with a few well-maintained roads, and an uncountable mass of biological material, living plants and creatures, and the enemy, hiding like animals in the trees. The other side showed the same area of the moon, but there was nothing but a scar cut deep into the land, exposing the bedrock that had been far beneath the soil of the forest.

Everything above the bedrock was gone. Not a speck of biological material was left behind in the boundaries of the former forest.

“Remind me, Commander, what were the fleet’s orders for this expedition?”

“Are you testing me, Advisor?” Nerl sighed. “Eliminate all traces of the enemy from the inhabited body orbiting the system’s lone gas giant planet. If possible, bring back live samples and any interesting technology.”

“It would seem that the enemy has achieved the minimum goal for you already,” she said with a laugh.

“Now I know you’re testing me,” he said. “You know as well as I that ‘if possible’ means as long as I draw breath, that needs to be my goal.”

Grun clicked the device again and the before view switched to a series of images from all over the moon. Everywhere there had been a settlement of the enemy had been gouged out to bedrock. What had been agricultural fields were stripped as well.

She brushed the scales of his cheek with the back of her rending claw. “Tell me, Commander, how would you accomplish the same results?”

Nerl sat up a little straighter. “I can think of only two methods. One ridiculous, and the other — wholly unrealistic — relies on tech that doesn’t exist.”

“Humor me,” Grun said with a purr. “Start with the more realistic one.”

“When they transformed the moon to make it habitable, they began by placing lifting plates on the bedrock. Then, once they brought in soil and water and atmosphere, and so on, they built only above the lifters. When we entered the system, the lifters raised in groups, to be picked up in atmosphere by some sort of transport.”

Having said it, Nerl blinked in annoyance. “It sounds even more ridiculous when spoken.”

“No, no. It’s fine, dear Commander.” Grun walked around the room, her tail swaying in lazy arcs. “What was the unrealistic one?”

“Teleportation.” He huffed at the thought. “Some sort of magic technology that allows moving matter from one place to another through some dimension outside the spacetime we understand.”

“Both excellent ideas, Commander.” Grun stood before the changing images on the wall screen as though studying them. “While the lifters sound more plausible, I rather like the teleportation angle. Imagine what the queendom could do with that.”

“Even with that,” Nerl said, “they would need to have transported it all out of the system somehow.”

“Well, once you figure out where they might have gone,” Grun said, as she approached and lifted Nerl’s chin with the tip of her rending claw, “we can go get our samples.”

“Yes, Advisor.” The proximity alarm sounded, and he spun toward the door, leaving a shallow cut along the bottom of his chin from her sharpened claw. He tapped the control panel near the door as blood welled along the cut. “Report!”

“Commander, lone enemy vessel sighted around far side of the gas giant, heavy transport. We have a warp trace from there,” the First Officer said over the comms. “Eighteen possible routes.”

“How long to narrow it down?”

“Hard to say, Commander. It could take as long as—”

“Never mind,” he interrupted. “It’s one ship, we are a fleet. Divide us up and make haste for all eighteen possible throughpoints. Don’t forget, we want some of them alive.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Grun ran her thumb along the cut on his chin, collecting the blood. She licked it off and made a noise as if savoring it. “Don’t make me regret the queen’s decision to give some males command roles.”

“You know I won’t, Advisor,” he said as the flagship transited into warpspace.

---

As the last ship warped out of the system, Sena let out the breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“We’ll keep the jamming running for a few more hours, just to be certain.” Tris shoved her hands into the pockets of her jumpsuit. “I just hope the crew on the Honeypot are going to be okay.”

Sena typed a command and scanned the results on the monitor. “The fleet left in eighteen different directions.”

“Gives them better odds, I guess.”

Sena laughed. “The Valkor Queendom has been trying to take humans alive for the entirety of the war. I kind of feel bad for the ship that tries to board the Honeypot.”

“Yeah, yeah. Dumb lizards versus a cargo ship full of Marines. Still ….”

“You’re worried about your brother.” Sena patted Tris’ leg. “He’s going to be fine.”

“It’s just feels different when it’s a war fleet rather than some pirates.”

“That’s what we’re trained for.” Sena raised the sleeve of her tee-shirt to show her Marines tattoo. “He’s a good kid, and a good Marine, he’ll be fine.”

Sena looked out the window at the fields that lay between the outpost and the forest. Hectares of specifically engineered crops for survival on low-gravity and low-light worlds like this moon. The forest beyond was populated with animals, plants, bacteria, and fungus also engineered for the environment.

“What started this stupid war, anyway?” she asked. “Weren’t we doing an expanded trade deal with Valkor just a couple years ago?”

“You don’t watch the news, do you?” Tris huffed. “Queen Gret died, Furg took over as the new queen. First thing she did was update the official religion, declaring all ‘warm bloods’ as evil. Second thing she did was declared war on all of the endothermic species. Humans just happened to be the closest.”

“They won’t survive without a regime change,” Sena said.

“How so?”

“If a coup or assassination doesn’t take out the queen, the war will wear them down until their entire economy and society collapses.”

Tris hummed. “Yeah, we’re way too good at wars of attrition.”

“Not just that,” Sena said. “They didn’t bother to look with their own eyes. They trust so much in their over-engineered, hyper-complex technology that they couldn’t bother to look down and see that their scanners were showing them a fake image.”

“What did it look like?”

Sena called up the model that had been fed to the Valkor ships. “This.”

“Those are the cutaway views that were generated for the geologic survey, aren’t they?”

“Exactly. Just without the infrastructure overlays.”

The women discussed it over coffee as they waited for an update from the Honeypot.

prompt: Write a story about a misunderstood monster.

available at Reedsy

It landed in the mountains with all the grace of a fart joke in the midst of a love sonnet. In other words, it crashed … hard. The creature that emerged from the rubble was the stuff of nightmares.

Of monstrous size, it moved in unnatural ways, as if animated by some magical force that ignored the rules of physics. It lifted enormous boulders from the area of the crash and piled them around the damaged craft to hide it from prying eyes.

It was like one of the old, rubber-suit monster movies come to life. When my team, tasked with monitoring the wildlife outside the city, saw the ship crash, we turned all our attention to it. The government and military were already aware by the time we called them and were watching our feeds as well.

We hoped — at least, I did — it would fix its craft and return to whichever star it came from or — at least — wouldn’t leave the mountains. When it began to make its way down the mountain, telescopic cameras on the highest buildings followed its movements as I controlled them from a remote monitoring station. Still, we all agreed that the recent reintroduction of the apex predator of the foothills would handle the problem for us.

I watched as the pack surrounded it. The creature’s immense size was most obvious then, as even the largest of the pack barely came to its knee, if that was the correct analogue.

With no way to hear what was happening, and much of the pack hidden by the trees the creature towered over, we could do nothing but hope. When the creature crouched down and disappeared behind the trees, we thought perhaps the pack had laid the creature to rest.

No sooner had we begun to breathe a sigh of relief than the creature stood again. In its arms it held one of the pack, walking out to the open hills. The pack followed, jumping around the creature’s legs.

The creature crouched and set the poor, frightened animal down. With their tails wagging like mad, the pack surrounded the creature. Where the pack was fearsome and dangerous, this creature had won them over in a matter of moments. No doubt it was as dangerous as the pack, if not more so.

When it stopped and looked toward the city, we felt its predatory eyes on us, marking each of us as a target. It began in a loping stride toward the city. It moved faster than anything that size should’ve been able.

All we could do was watch as it approached the city. It reached the ring road and folded its long legs under itself. It scanned the city with its predatory gaze, seeming to measure and take stock of us.

What I at first thought was the creature’s carapace turned out to be some sort of armor. It removed the armor from its hands, revealing long, misshapen fingers covered in something that left it looking slimy. Either that or the creature was, indeed, shedding its carapace.

Either way, the sight triggered some deep, instinctive part of the brain that put most of us on high alert while turning our stomachs in disgust. From our vantage point in the monitoring room, we could see the military vehicles rushing around the walls of the city on the ring road.

Those same walls that kept the wild things outside the city, hid the approach of the military as they approached. Once they cleared the corners though, the creature stood and raised its hands above its shoulders. It looked like it was getting ready to strike.

Having seen the creature’s speed, I feared for the troops that were rushing into harm’s way. Most of the vehicles stopped far short of the giant, while two tanks continued on, one on each side. Still, their presence provided us with audio as well.

The turrets on the tanks began to zero in on the creature, who jumped completely over one of them and kicked it so hard the entire tank spun to face the wilds as it fired. The second tank fired at nearly the same instant, at a target that was no longer there.

The creature grabbed the cannon of the tank it had just kicked and ripped it off the tank along with the turret. It jumped to the other tank and did the same before taking one giant stride away from the city and folding its legs beneath itself again.

The creature opened its maw and shouted out in a rumbling voice. “Stop it!”

“It speaks?” I asked, amazed.

The tank crews were as shocked as I. They stood around the broken tanks, staring at the creature.

One of the military commanders began shouting through a megaphone. I always thought they just had those in the movies, but here it was, in real life. “Do not attempt to approach the city! Any violent action will result in your destruction.”

“No shoot,” the creature bellowed.

The commander gave one of the sort of non-apologies we’ve all gotten used to on the news. It seemed to be enough for the creature, though, who asked for water after downing a wading-pool sized container it had carried at its waist.

What had started with an unexpected crash, followed by a tense moment when tank gunners fired prematurely, turned, at last, into a long, boring, parlay between representatives of the military and government, scientists, and the creature.

As the day wore into evening, the slimy look of the creature’s hands faded, seeming to dry out. It still looked disgusting in the camera’s view. I can’t imagine how horrifying it must’ve been for the people that were right there talking to it.

After hours of talking, a military truck pulling a water trailer stopped near the creature who dwarfed it. When the creature couldn’t get the opening of its water container low enough to fill from the trailer, it picked up the entire trailer and drained it into its container before setting it back down.

I was falling asleep at the controls when I was relieved for the night by someone from another branch. At my last look, the military maintained a corridor around the creature that had sprawled out on the ground, using the coverings it had taken from its hands as a sort of headrest. Meanwhile, it tapped on some sort of device the size of a large screen display, which it held comfortably in one of its grotesque hands.

As I made my way out of the control room, my supervisor told me, “Word is, this isn’t going to over any time soon. Be prepared for more long shifts.”

#

MSG RCVD 21:32 LOCAL:

FROM: Emergency Comm ID SP-4372

TO: Contact Corps Headquarters

AUTO-FWD FROM: Lyra 4 Observation Command Moon Base

SUBJ: Accidental First Contact – suboptimal outcome – also, I’m stranded

Orbital shuttle malfunction, emergency landing on Lyra 4. FTL comms down, I’m relying on the local messaging system with the moon base. Here’s hoping the auto-forwarding is on. Last team rotated out 6 days ago, new team not expected for 9 more days. Stranded on Lyra 4, need extraction and an official Contact team.

Landed high in the mountains, air was too thin to stay there without using oxygen from the survival suit. Have the three survival ration pouches from the suit but no other food. I should’ve eaten breakfast this morning.

Hid the shuttle in the rocks, but I’m pretty sure they saw me come down. Met a pack of six-legged creatures that act like dogs and enjoy attention. They’re the size of miniature poodles and have about the same temperament. I startled one so bad I thought it was going to have a stroke. Picked it up and soothed it and it was good as new.

In the lower elevations I came to a walled city. It looked a miniature movie set. Of course, the residents are no taller than my knees, but still weird.

Got shot at by two tanks, but they both missed. I kicked one so it wasn’t pointing at me and tore the toe of my survival suit. I got a little carried away and pulled the turrets off the tanks. One of the little three-legged guys was banged up a little when I kicked the tank, but no real casualties.

Hot as hell, I’ve been sweating like a pig. I’ve been breathing the air since I was low enough in elevation, so I went ahead and stowed the helmet. I’ve since removed the gloves and turned on the fresh air circulation. I was on the verge of dehydration, but the tripods were good enough to bring me some water. I know – full quarantine when you pick me up. Better that than a casket.

Spent a couple hours talking with the equivalent of a General and a President, along with a couple scientists – they brought images of the Caspian, just before it jumped out of system last week. Apparently, they knew we were here. The General offered what I’m pretty sure was a political nonpology for shooting at me, but most of the words flew right by me. It’s a little slow going as all I know of their language is what I picked up hanging around the research teams.

I have a full protective detail of tripod guys keeping the curious tripods and the “dangerous” predators away from me while I try to get some sleep out in the open. Will update as more details arise.

Sylvia Carter

Orbital Systems Technician, First Class

Lyra Observation Team

P.S. Did I mention I’m stranded?

P.P.S. The survival rations suck. The faster you pick me up, the more rounds I buy the rescue team.

prompt: Write a story that includes the line “I don’t belong here” or “Don’t mind me.”

available at Reedsy

If there was a Venn diagram of invisible jobs, real jobs that sound fake, and jobs that keep society running, Kina’s job would fall dead center, in the overlap of all three circles. As a Security Threatcaster and Wargamer, it was her job to first, know and understand the physical, political, and socioeconomic climate and circumstances at play. Then, using that knowledge, game out every likely scenario to a given confidence level, and plan contingencies for each.

Kina usually planned for explicit scenarios that were within a fifty percent or higher confidence level, and an overall, “in all other cases” plan. The brief on this one, though, was that anything above a five percent confidence level needed contingency plans.

Things that helped were the extensive surveillance already in place, along with a well-armed, well-trained security force, and reserves that could be assembled in advance and ready to deploy at a moment’s notice.

There were, however, things that made contingency planning more difficult. The relative insecurity outside the Galactic Union Hall, multiple entry and exit points to secure, and the sheer volume of traffic through GU Hall. Kina thought the most difficult to plan around, though, were the officials from other star systems and empires recognized by the GU.

She’d been charged with ensuring that the vote for Wornan Reach sovereignty and autonomy go forward without any harm to the Wornan Reach delegation. Unspoken, of course, was that the Federation of Human Systems delegation remain unharmed, as they were paying the bill for all of this.

Another stated goal was that, regardless of the result of the vote, it not devolve into a situation that would only be resolved by war. Harsh words, economic sanctions, even public denouncements were fine, as long as they would not result in shooting.

Between that explicit goal and the five percent confidence request, Kina had been forced to develop a set of plans that she couldn’t share with the FHS delegation. If the GU voted against the petition and the Empire of the All-Sensing Antenna maintained the systems of the Wornan Reach as vassal states, there was a better than nine percent chance that the FHS would want to declare war.

Better that they were rounded up “for protection” as soon as the vote was finished and rushed to chambers where they could cool down than let them speak. They would not, of course, be the only delegation treated as such. In fact, there were orders already drafted to be disseminated to the security forces outlining which delegations would be immediately rounded up and taken to their chambers. Which groups would be “protected” depended on the outcome of the vote.

“Where’s the Wargamer?” a voice bellowed from the hallway.

Kina recognized the voice as belonging to the reptilian-looking commander of the GU security force, Sarthos. “In here, Chief.”

Sarthos entered, his two-meter frame almost as high as the door, while being whip-thin. “Are you prepared to brief the staff?”

“I’ll leave that to you,” she said. “If you could shut the door, I’ll show you what we’re working with.” She offered him a seat next to her at the table she was using as a makeshift desk and prepared the tablet she’d be leaving with him.

“These are the scenarios, most likely to least, listed here,” she pointed to the menu on the tablet. “The response plans are directly linked to each. I’d recommend you and your top lieutenants get familiar with all of them.”

“Why shouldn’t I just pass this around to all the teams?”

“Here, at nine-point-four-three percent confidence.” She let him read it through. “I won’t be making this, or any of the other protection plans known to any of the delegations. I don’t want to influence their vote or let anything leak that could jeopardize security for the Wornan Reach delegation or the FHS.”

He swished his tail. “Understandable. I’ll keep this to just those I need to call the orders out, and let the security teams know that they’re on high alert, and nothing else.”

“What time will the reserves check in?” she asked.

“They’re trickling in, ones and twos, from now through the middle of the night. Less chance of notice.”

“Are you sure you’re not a threatcaster yourself?” Kina laughed. “Good move, though. Canceling public tours and setting a clear security zone in the commons is already enough notice that something big is happening.”

“No way. I might be able to foresee this one, ‘Cartinian delegate intoxicated, reveals details of FHS – Cartinian – Wornan trilateral talks.’” Sarthos shook his head. “How did you come up with that, and with a what … eighty-four percent confidence?”

“Elder Brinthia is a leaf-chewer and usually shows up to GU hearings at least half zonked.” She shrugged. “From there, it’s easy enough to find out he has loose lips — er — a loose beak, when intoxicated.

“While he hasn’t been part of those talks, which is a good thing, it’s safe to assume that he has been briefed on them, as the head of Cartinian Inter-Stellar Relations.”

“What kind of AI do you use to come up with these scenarios?”

Kina pointed at her head. “Not AI, just plain, ol’ human cognition, imagination, and the ability to come up with ways to throw a wrench into any plan.”

“And the percentage confidence, does that pop right out of your imagination as well?” he asked.

“No, that comes from the generalized forecaster AI that’s used by businesses and government agencies all over the galaxy.” She snorted. “It’s not a real AI, just a large data parser that can be trained on a dataset, in this case, recordings and minutes of every GU meeting for the past hundred standard years.”

“And from that it can determine how likely Brinthia is to squawk his beak?”

“Yes, or at least close enough.”

Sarthos continued to browse through the eight-hundred-plus scenarios and their associated plans. “Do you always plan out for such unlikely contingencies?”

“No, just this time. The FHS delegation asked for contingencies for everything down to a five percent confidence. Usually, clients only ask for those down to sixty or maybe fifty percent likelihood.”

A knock at the door caught their attention. Sarthos turned off the tablet and stood, while Kina opened the door. “Yes?”

Outside the door stood a small creature, covered in downy fur, with large, luminous, nocturnal eyes, a sinuous body with six motor limbs and four grasper limbs, and floppy ears that reminded Kina of a poodle.

“I was told the security chief was in here?” The creature’s voice was melodic, somewhere between singing and whistling.

“Right here,” Kina said, letting the creature in. “You must be from the Wornan Reach delegation.”

“Yes, I am Matriarch Spista. Are you the head of security?” she asked.

“No, that would be this fine gentleman right here.” She motioned to Sarthos and turned to him. “I believe you have everything you need. Check for Wornan Reach delegation arrives early and unannounced, at somewhere around fifty-two percent confidence. You’ve got the playbook now.”

“Oh,” Spista said, “a pleasure to meet you, Security Chief Sarthos; Turinakian if I’m not mistaken.”

Sarthos nodded. “There’s no need to be formal with me, madam. You’re the VIP here.”

“Not really,” she said. “And who are you, human?”

Kina smiled as she opened the door to leave. “I’m not that interesting. Don’t mind me.”

prompt: Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.

available at Reedsy

One thing about human progress that hasn’t changed in thousands of years is that things are only impossible until someone does it the first time. So many things thought impossible have been overcome by ingenuity and perseverance that the remaining impossibilities should, perhaps, be re-classified as impossible for now.

Humans have been to the bottom of the Challenger Deep, the deepest part of the Mariana Trench and the lowest point on earth. In the same spirit, humans have been atop Everest, above the clouds, outside the atmosphere entirely, and as far as the moon. One boundary after another has been broken by engineering, turned into a new frontier to explore, such that those remaining are simply a matter of time.

Time itself was one of those unbroken boundaries, at least until the evening Kelsey answered the door to find herself standing outside her apartment. She knew it was her, even though the crow’s feet around the eyes and grey hairs at the temples would still be years off. “Hi, Kelsey, I’m you, but I go by Kay now,” the visitor said.

“How?” she managed to stammer out.

“With this,” Kay said, holding out a device the size of a toaster.

“What the hell am I supposed to … I mean, what do you expect?” Kelsey rubbed her face. “You’re me, so, why would I deliver that to my younger self? Are you going to give me investment advice, too?”

“This is what got me here.” Kay looked directly into her younger self’s eyes. “If you could travel back and meet your past self, what would you want to do?”

Kelsey stepped back, allowing her older self in, and shut the door behind her. They sat facing each other at the small kitchen table. “I don’t know. Maybe go back and do some things differently.”

“That’s just it. You can’t go back and get a redo. All you can do is go back and give your younger self some advice.” She leaned her chin on her hand, an elbow propped on the table. “It’s like one of those guys that tries to throw a switch for a train, to get it on the right track.”

“That’s why you’re here?”

Kay nodded. She put the device on the table and showed her inner arm to her younger self. A scar ran from the elbow to the wrist, jagged, puckered in spots like tissue was missing beneath it.

“What did you … I …,” Kelsey couldn’t finish the question.

“Not self-inflicted, although it was supposed to look like it was.” There was a deep, fearful sadness in Kay’s eyes that was far more intense than Kelsey had ever seen in her own reflection. “Andrew Perlmutter, except I first knew him as just AP.”

“Bad news, huh?”

Kay nodded. “I met him about a month from now. We started out friends, then business partners, then he tried to take over the business. When I filed a lawsuit, he came over with a bottle of whiskey, saying he wanted to talk it out. Instead, he spiked my drink and tried to stage my suicide.”

“It didn’t work, though,” Kelsey said.

“Because of this.” Kay put her hand on the device. “I don’t know who the woman holding this was, just that she showed up, called 911, and then left. She visited me in the hospital and left this, asking me to take care of it. As soon as she handed it to me, she just sort of, faded out of my reality.”

“Wait, why did the time machine stay if she didn’t. I mean, thinking this through—”

Kay jumped in, “—she accomplished what she had traveled back in time for, meaning she had no reason to travel back in time in the first place—”

“—and the machine had no reason to be there, either,” Kelsey finished.

“Careful, I’ve gone nearly insane trying to figure this all out.” Kay pushed the device across the table.

Kelsey eyed the device, keeping her hands away from it. “What do you expect me to do with this?”

“With that, I’m not sure. Take care of it, I guess. With AP, though….” Kay shook her head. “He was the friendliest, most outgoing, most generous person I’d ever met. Right up until he wasn’t.”

“Oh, I got that loud and clear. Stay far away from anyone named Andrew Perlmutter or that goes by AP.” Kelsey slumped. “If you accomplished what you set out to, shouldn’t you be disappearing or something?”

“Probably.” Kay shrugged. “I don’t know how this works. I was hoping I would go back far enough to tell young me to go to the Bitcoin Talk Forum in mid 2009. Someone sold over five thousand Bitcoin for a little over five dollars via PayPal.”

“That’s your investment advice? Go back to 2009 and buy Bitcoin?”

“Well, you know, it’s not much different to telling you to put a thousand into … wait, hand me your phone so I can put it in your notes.” Kay took the offered phone and typed in a company name before handing it back.

“I’ve never heard of such a company.”

“Look them up. They go public later this year, or maybe next year. Either way, their stock starts out cheap, until they nearly drive Nvidia out of the AI chip market.”

“Why didn’t you … I, invest in the first place?”

“Didn’t hear of them until they were already sky-high.” Kay looked at the device again. “Seriously, though, take care of that thing.”

“How does it work?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking about what I was doing back in 2009 and touched it and ended up here. I wouldn’t have known the importance of the date if it weren’t for the fresh dent in the back of the Subie.”

Kelsey’s eyes opened wide in shock. “What dent?!”

“The neighbor’s kid backed into her with his pickup. He left a note with his information.” Kay smirked. “The dent was still there when I met AP. He recommended his friend’s shop for the repair.”

“And you went there?”

Kay shook her head. “No, his friend’s shop wanted to charge three times as much. But it was his way to make an introduction.”

Kelsey pursed her lips. “City Auto Body?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll take it there tomorrow. See if I can’t get it fixed before the party.”

“That should….” Kay’s voice disappeared along with her.

Kelsey looked at the device sitting on the table. It looked like a prop toaster with no bread slots, no buttons, and a finish that looked like dull metal. She opened her phone and looked at the notes app. The name of the company was still there.

She stared at the box, wondering what she could or should do with it. Yeah, having a few thousand bitcoin would be nice. She could retire right away. But didn’t Kay, her older self, say that’s where she was trying to go in the first place? And where does the device stop? When does it cease to exist? When it has fulfilled its own purpose — whatever that may be?

She wondered if undoing every bad thing that happened to her would change who she was. There were things she could’ve handled better, sure, but Kay said that all she could do was talk to her younger self, not be her younger self.

It was while she was thinking about it that she found herself in the hallway of her college dorm, right outside her room. Down the hall, she saw Stan, the guy with the weird name that OD’ed . He leaned against the wall across from her door and slumped to the floor.

Kelsey knew the night. This was the night he died outside her door. Still not 2009, although it was close. September 2010. She knelt next to Stan with the weird name. He looked close to dead, but she saw him take a shallow breath.

She pulled his phone out of his pocket and tried to turn it on, but it had no charge. Her own phone was still sitting on her table in the apartment, and she doubted it would work in 2010 anyway.

She pounded on her room door. Kelsey had been asleep while it happened and had woken to sirens of the ambulance showing up too late.

Her younger self opened the door, bleary-eyed. “What?” She blinked twice. “Am I dreaming?”

“No. I’m you from the future, but right now, you need to call 911! Stan’s OD’ing in the hall right now!”

Younger Kelsey grabbed the phone from the nightstand and made the call. Meanwhile, Kelsey knelt back near Stan and rubbed his chest, trying to keep him at least a little awake. “Keep breathing, Stan, keep breathing.”

She heard the ambulance outside the dorm. Her younger self knelt down next to them. Kelsey looked at her younger self. “Keep him breathing.”

“Yeah. How did you … I …?” her younger self asked.

Kelsey felt the irresistible call to pass the box on. She handed it to her younger self. “This. Take care of it. I have to leave before someone else sees me.” She thought of something she wanted to say before leaving.

“Oh, Bitcoin was cheap as hell in 2009, and it’s worth a whole hell of a lot more in the future.”

Kelsey realized she’d just said that to her empty condo and wondered why. The thought of Bitcoin, though, made her log in to her financial records. That, in turn, led her to think of Stanwick. He’d been so grateful for her calling an ambulance, and so horrified by his OD, that he’d handed over his Bitcoin wallet as a reward, and to keep him from spending his last six-thousand Bitcoins on more dope. At the time it was worth a little over a thousand dollars.

She’d held on to it all through their last year of college, and had tried, repeatedly to give it back. Stan hung on for the rest of the year, barely graduating, then went to rehab, never to be heard from again.

When Bitcoin topped one-hundred-thousand dollars, she’d hired a financial planner and a private investigator. The financial planner’s efforts left her where she was now, with a nine-figure account, two-thousand bitcoin still in her wallet, and an envelope with investment account paperwork for Stan. His account was worth more than hers at this point. The PI, though, had given up when, after three years, she was unable to locate Stanwick. Kelsey hoped he was doing well.

Kelsey had a momentary memory of a metal box. It might have been a dream she’d had once, but she could remember the feel of it in her hands. She shook her head to clear it, then picked up her phone and opened her notes app to make a reminder to herself to go back to the rehab Stanwick had gone to after college and try to trace him from there.

She found a note with the name of a company she’d never heard of or seen before. How it got there was a mystery, but she left it. Ever since the unexplained pounding on her door that had awoken her all those years ago and led to saving Stanwick’s life, she paid attention to such mysteries.

Kelsey typed the name of the company into a search engine and began to read about a ballsy startup doing the impossible: building their own AI computing chips. Something told her that she should buy in as soon as they went public. Not if, she just knew it was a when.

prompt: Set your story before dawn or after midnight. Your character is awake for a specific reason.

available at Reedsy

Taylor McAllister rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She’d been chasing leads down dead-end rabbit holes for days. If this tip turned sour, she’d have to go back in defeat and let her boss know that the summons couldn’t be served.

For the moment, however, she was standing at a private launch field in the pre-dawn chill, waiting for someone to come for the little sport shuttle parked there. She was considering calling it a bust when she heard the gate clanging open.

From her hiding spot by the hangar, she watched a small truck trundle through the gate. The truck stopped next to the shuttle. The driver got out and began transferring packages from the open bed of the truck to the shuttle’s stowage compartment.

Taylor waited until the last package was loaded and the stowage access door was secured, then she made her move. She stepped into the faint light from the launch field and waved. “Hello.” She tensed, ready for the driver to run, or try to jump back into the truck and drive off.

Instead, she was surprised by the driver’s response. “Hey! Just one minute, while I park in the hangar, then I can help you,” the woman said. She jumped into the truck and drove it into the hangar before walking directly back out to where Taylor stood.

“I saw you on the security cameras before I got here,” the driver said, “and clocked you as a process server. No weapons on the scan, and since you didn’t come for me right away, I’m not your target. I think I know who you’re looking for, though.” The woman, taller than Taylor with an olivine complexion and rainbow dyed hair put out a hand for a shake. “Manuela. Civil or criminal summons?”

Taylor shook the woman’s hand. “Taylor McAllister, from All-Where Services. It’s, uh, from the 9^th Circuit Criminal Court.”

Manuela pursed her lips and nodded. “Figures. Well, this is my last trip for my soon-to-be former boss, Jerran Trask. That’s who you’re looking for, right?”

“Yeah. That’s the problem with the rich ones, they always have someplace else to hide.” Taylor cocked her head. “Why did you say ‘soon-to-be former’?”

“The longer I’ve worked for him, the more I’ve felt he was involved in some shady shit. I was planning on turning in my resignation with this load, anyway.”

“Are you delivering this directly to him?”

“Nah. This is going to a commercial freighter in orbit. Which of his private asteroids or moons it’s going to from there, I don’t know. He’s been jumping around a lot, lately. That was the final straw for me.”

Taylor let out a defeated sigh. “If you don’t know where he is, I guess this job is a big, fat zero after all.”

“Do you have other plans right now?”

“No. Why?”

“Come on up with me and talk to the freighter captain. They might let you see where the delivery is going.” Manuela chuckled. “You’d be surprised what a little scratch might get you, since there is no such thing as freighter-client confidence.”

Taylor looked at the sporty little shuttle. “If you’ll have me, I’d appreciate it.”

“Well then, let’s move. We’re running out of time to make the drop-off.”

In return for the ride, Taylor helped Manuela unload the shuttle. She was surprised to see canisters of argon amongst the more normal supplies of protein paste, a solar still, booze, and enough instant ramen to keep an entire dorm fed for weeks.

“What’s with the argon?” she asked.

“Oh, you haven’t seen him, have you?”

“On the holos and stuff. He’s been in the news a few times.”

“Yeah, when you see him in person, you’ll get it.” Manuela paused from marking off items on her bill of lading. “He’s not human. He’s a grumuran.”

“The shapeshifters?”

“Yeah, kind of. It’s not as extreme as all that, but he’s had extensive surgery to look human. Without the argon, though, his cells begin to lose their firmness, and he starts to look like he’s melting.”

“Whenever I saw him on the holo, I thought he didn’t look right. Maybe robotic or something. That makes sense, though.”

Manuela nudged Taylor’s ribs. “Here comes the captain now,” she said.

“Manuela, right on time as always, I see,” the captain said in passable English. He stood taller than the women but likely weighed less as his frame was slight and willowy. His grey-blue skin was dull under the loading dock lights.

“I’m within the delivery window … just,” Manuela said. “Sorry for the delay, but my friend here is looking for Trask.”

“And if he didn’t pay so well, I would look to stay away from him.” He extended a hand with three over-long fingers and a thumb to match, all with one too many joints. “I’m Lirae-is, and this is my ship, the @!*#&$% — it means Junk Drawer in English.”

Taylor shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Lirae-is. I’m Taylor McAllister from All-Where Services. Is there any way I can convince you to tell me where to find Mr. Trask?”

“I can take you to him, for a small price.”

Taylor sighed. She wasn’t rolling in dough, and the agency wasn’t likely to cover an off-the-books travel expense. “I don’t have much—”

“If you deal with him and his cargo, and let me hide in the cockpit, I’ll take you straight there and back again when you’re done,” Lirae-is interjected.

“What about your crew?”

“I’m it. Most everything is automated, and my helper is out sick. Actually, she’s out laying  a clutch, but I pretend like I don’t know.”

“Why do you want to hide from Trask?”

Lirae-is shuddered. “He makes me uneasy. There’s something so unnatural about him, it turns my stomachs. Plus, he calls me ‘Larry’ and I don’t like it.”

Taylor thought for a minute. “So, I offload his shit, do my bit, and you bring me right back?”

“That’s the deal.” He looked over her diminutive — to his eyes — size, and said, “I think I might even have a child seat for you.”

Manuela laughed and Taylor shrugged. “It would’ve been more comfortable in the interrogation room with one. Whatever.”

Manuela turned to Taylor. “Wait, you’re actually going with him?”

“Yeah, I might as well. Even if I know where he is when he gets his stuff, he could bolt right after. This is the best chance I have.” She leaned in to whisper to Manuela. “If I can serve him before the end of the week, I get a bonus. I’d be willing to share it with you at the bar.”

Lirae-is leaned over until his head was level with theirs. “I heard that. Name the bar and the night, and I’ll be there to collect my earnings in fermented barley water.”

Taylor laughed. “Beer for the captain it is. Tell you what. I sent my e-card to Manuela’s comm, and I’m sure she knows how to contact you. I’ll let her choose the time and place to better fit everyone’s schedule.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go back with me?” Manuela asked.

“Nah. I’ll take care of business with Trask, and then maybe help Lirae-is out with a few more deliveries, since he’s short-handed.”

“But my hands are very long,” he said, extending his fingers.

Manuela snorted. “Your jokes keep getting worse,” she said. “I love it. See you when you get back.”

Trask’s private asteroid wasn’t much to look at from the outside. The massive landing bay inside, though, hinted at high-tech meets high-fashion. Taylor unloaded all of Trask’s goods and stacked them in the designated area, then, with a borrowed pad from Lirae-is, stood expectantly by the pile of goods.

His voice came over the intercom. “You can leave now.”

Taylor looked at the pad, beneath which she held his summons. “I, uh, can’t. It says here I need a signature from a Jerry Trash?”

A door at the far end of the bay slammed open and he stormed in. While he looked a little uncanny valley on the holo, in person it was a whole other thing. Every part of her brain said, “Not human! NOT HUMAN!”

He stomped up to her and looked her up and down. “Larry is hiring humans now?” he asked, holding his hand out for the tablet.

“Are you Jerry Trash?” Taylor asked.

“Jerran Trask!” he yelled at her from within a calm face. “My name is Jerran Trask, get it right!”

“Oh, good.” Taylor pulled the summons from under the tablet and placed it into his waiting hand. “Jerran Trask, you’ve been served.”

His already dead eyes seemed to lose even more life as he stared at her, his face remaining the same, blank calm he showed in every holo appearance. “No one serves me a summons. I do the summoning.”

Taylor raised a finger and opened her comm. “Sir, I have additional information the court would like me to pass on to you. I quote: You have been summoned to report to the Ninth Circuit Criminal Court in Brussels, no later than 72 hours from now. Failure to do so will result in an arrest warrant, seizure, freezing, and possible forfeiture of all assets, and possible charges. End of quote.”

With that, she turned on her heel and returned to the ship, leaving the dumbfounded Trask holding the summons. She followed through on her suggestion, helping Lirae-is offload his other cargo, even driving a loader — without training or certification — at one overused and  understaffed depot.

On return to Earth, Lirae-is docked at the public transport orbital station, where a message from Manuela pinged both of them. Taylor looked at her comm, look at Lirae-is, and said, “Oh, nice, tapas. Guess I’ll be seeing you next Friday at the Leyenda del Mar, here on the station.”

prompt: Write a story with an open ending that leaves room for your reader’s own interpretations.

available at Reedsy

From a UN Peacekeepers force commander to “Champion” — whatever that was supposed to mean — was not a career trajectory retired Major Panit Ziegler expected. She’d planned a more realistic path of retiring young and starting a second career as a social worker.

It was a warm April, and Panit was close to the end of her stint in the Bundeswehr, forgoing the proffered promotion to Oberstleutnant. The UN was processing the paperwork to release her back to the Bundeswehr, and she was training her replacement from France, Commandant Pierre Cole of the Armée de Terre. Then it happened.

“The best laid plans, they say,” she murmured.

“Are you still on about that?” Pierre asked.

“Of course I am. This whole past year I could’ve been finishing my certification as a counselor, instead, I’ve been stuck here with…,” she pointed at the cube that floated impossibly a few centimeters off the ground.

“With me? Mon Dieu! How unfortunate.” Pierre laughed.

“No, you idiot.” Panit sighed. “Who thought first contact would be such a — what is the American word? — clusterfuck.”

“Anyone could have foreseen that. Their demands, though.”

Panit looked at the area around the alien ship that had hung there unmoved for a little over a year. The UN Peacekeepers had built semi-permanent barricades and security corridors around it. By nearly doubling the size of the military arm of the Peacekeepers, they were able to devote thirty thousand troops to keeping the civilians safe from anything coming from the ship, and the ship safe from any rogue actors that wanted to attack.

Beyond the security zone, a tent city expanded, moving out from the center as new buildings went up. The Tunisian government had put in a road to this patch of desert despite the amount of labor required to keep it from being buried by shifting sands. What had started as a staging and resupply area for the security forces at the end of the road had turned into a small town, or at least village by that point.

“Why do you think I was chosen for this?” Panit asked.

“You were the most qualified, and closest,” Pierre said, “or at least, that’s what I think. Dual citizenship with Germany and Thailand means you have at least a little concern for the welfare of Asians and Europeans. You worked closely with US forces in multiple training exercises, so you might be willing to consider American concerns. Finally,” he said, “you have made many close friends across the African continent while a force commander.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said with a frown. “I’ve made plenty of enemies, though.”

Pierre shook his head. “With warlords and traffickers, yes. Every local military leader I ever talk to asks about you. General Mbebe of Malawi said you owe him a visit so he can show you around the wildlife preserves.”

“Once this over, I’ll probably take him up on that. I wonder what they expect me to—” Panit was cut off mid-sentence by a long, low rumble from the ship. An opening appeared on the side nearest her, large enough to drive a truck through.

“I think that’s your signal that it’s time to go,” Pierre said. “The world is counting on you.”

“Chı̀ c̄hạn rū̂.”

“What does that mean? I don’t speak Thai.”

“It means ‘yeah, I know.’” Panit blew out a deep breath. “No pressure. Don’t let anyone blow up the ship while I’m on it.”

With that, she began walking toward the ship and found herself quoting the twenty-third Psalm in German. She hadn’t thought about religion at since childhood, but it came unbidden.

She stepped up into the ship, barely more than stepping over a standard threshold. No sooner had she stepped fully in than the light became blinding.

—

The light in the drop ship dimmed and turned orange. Panit knew the stakes. “Listen up, troops! The Conglomerate wants to take our colony for themselves. We’re not going to let that happen.”

She began checking her harness while she spoke, entirely on muscle memory. “City Thirteen is the last to finish evacuation. We need to get the civilians off world and hold the installations at cities Nine and Twelve. If we lose this world, we lose the system. If we lose this system, we lose the quadrant.”

“Do or die!” the troopers called out in unison.

The history of the Sylkar replayed in her memory. They hadn’t chosen a side. Neither Coalition nor Conglomerate. Still, the Coalition had tried to protect them from Conglomerate aggression, but they were unsuccessful. Since then, the former Sylkar system had been colonized by the Coalition to create a border system on the edge of unclaimed space. If the Conglomerate took it, they would be in range to jump straight to other Coalition systems in attack.

The Conglomerate claimed that surviving Sylkar were being held captive in City Thirteen. The reality was that all surviving Sylkar were living in a system far inside Coalition space. City Thirteen, however, contained the most advanced weapons research in the galaxy. Panit knew what had to happen if the Conglomerate troops managed to land in the city.

The drop ship touched down and the harnesses released. The troops flowed out into a defensive formation until the ship was once again bound for the mothership in orbit. Panit led the troops to the rally point, where the troops from the other thousand drop ships gathered.

She took command of a battalion, with the mission to flank City Thirteen to the east and secure the communications tower at City Twelve. Even in the lower gravity of the planet, it was a slog.

They encountered no resistance and secured the tower before setting up the rear HQ there. Communications with the mothership and the field commanders were established just in time to hear that the last civilian lift had left City Thirteen and the other battalions were being pulled out to safe range as the Conglomerate drop ships were popping out of slip space just above the planet to land in the city.

“Backstop, this is Mother. Status, over.”

Panit picked up the handset. “Mother, Backstop. All evacuations complete. Field commanders report all units outside the city. Conglomerate shielded drop ships phasing in from slip space just outside atmo, AA is ineffective. Already landing in City Thirteen. Over.”

“Backstop, Mother. Go or no-go for orbital bombardment of City Thirteen.”

“Mother, Backstop. Orbital bombardment, City Thirteen, is a go. I say again, orbital bombardment of City Thirteen is a go.” Panit held the handset as she felt the tremors from antimatter missiles hammering the next city over with two megaton explosions.

The remaining Conglomerate drop ships that hadn’t touched down burned back to orbit where they were whisked away into slip space by conveyor ships that never stuck around long enough to be targets. The rest of the day was spent putting out fires in City Thirteen, accounting for the Conglomerate drop ships and collecting their dead and verifying — in person — that the research labs were completely destroyed.

Panit, along with most of the other troops, fell asleep on the return lift to the mothership. She was woken by a blinding light.

—

The cabin light was a rude awakening, but Panit began stepping out of bed to pull on her uniform. “What is it?”

“We got a transmission from the Sylkar system, ma’am,” the young runner said. “You’re needed in the command conference room.”

 “Tell them I’m on my way.”

She was less than a minute behind the runner and sprinting through the ship to the conference room. The door opened as she approached, and she slowed down to take a breath. She stepped through as the door closed behind her.

Without preamble, the fleet commander began, showing the decrypted text message on the main view screen. Approx. 150 Sylkar held: L-247-3, city 13, used for labor / weapon testing / medical experimentation.

“How sure are we this is legitimate?” Panit asked.

“Our intel indicates it is,” the Intelligence commander answered.

“This is not an invasion, not an invitation to war but a rescue mission,” the fleet commander said. “As such, the only ships that will touch down on L-247-3 will be rescue lifters. The only ships other than the lifters that will emerge from slip space in the system will be one observer platform to oversee the operation and provide holographic proof of nonaggression, and the unarmed conveyors.

“I don’t have to tell you how dangerous this is, but it’s up to us to rescue them. The Coalition has gone too far, and we cannot stand by and let this happen. That said, volunteers only.”

Panit nodded. “I’m in. I’ll run the observer.”

Others spoke in turn as they worked out the logistics. She had time while they moved close enough in unclaimed space for the conveyors to ferry the observation platform and lifters into low orbit below the Coalition platforms.

Panit spent the time in transit thinking about the Sylkar. They’d decided not to side with the Conglomerate or the Coalition. Less than a week after their refusal to join a side, they were attacked. The Coalition blamed the attack on the Conglomerate; one of their common tactics when responding to anything negative.

The reality was that by the time the Conglomerate heard of the attack, the Coalition had already claimed to have “saved” a small portion of the Sylkar population and taken over their system. If there was any attack aside from the Coalition, it was likely the freebooters that hid out in unclaimed space. Conglomerate intelligence was still divided on whether there was any attack outside Coalition actions.

“Watcher, this is Conveyor Seven, status to slip space.”

Panit picked up the handset. “Conveyor Seven, Watcher, all go for slip space.”

“Watcher, C-Seven, roger all go for slip space. Insertion to burn-assisted geostationary orbit over City Thirteen. Hold on to your socks.”

The conveyor weaved a slip space bubble around the observation platform. The stars warped, spun, and flashed until she found herself above the city. She went to medium magnification to watch the city. “Lift Command, this is Watcher. Civilian emergency lifts leaving City Thirteen. Looks like they’ve evacuated most of the planet.”

“Roger, Watcher. Lifts coming through now.”

She watched as dozens of rescue lifts popped in from slip space, only to be targeted by anti-aircraft fire from soldiers outside the city limits. She turned on thermal imaging, and increased magnification. The soldiers were farther away from the city than they would be for securing it.

“Lift Command, Watcher. Coalition forces are arrayed two to three kilometers outside the city. I suspect orbital bombardment imminent.”

She swept the view through the city. More than a dozen lifts were on the ground, and the rescue crews were spread out, sweeping the city. She didn’t see any other moving heat signatures on the ground, but any of the buildings with their varying heats could contain people.

An alarm sounded. The Coalition ship in orbit was firing missiles. Panit raised the handset. “All lifts, abort, abort, abort. I say again, abort, abort, abort. Get out of there, orbital bombardment incoming.”

She was still watching when the orbital strike began. The Coalition were using anti-matter bombs on one of their own cities. The flash from the first burned out the platform’s optics before the second, third, fourth, and more struck as she could see from the energy spikes.

Two dozen explosions in, a conveyor pulled her back to the fleet. Panit sat stunned in the platform as it was towed into the ship. Nearly two hundred killed in a matter of seconds. All because the Coalition wanted to maintain their secrecy around what happened to the Sylkar.

One of the lights in the docking bay was mis-aimed and blinded her.

—

The room in which she stood was lit from everywhere and nowhere at once. Before her, a cube floated in the same way the cube she was in floated.

The voice came from the cube. “Panit Ziegler, you have experienced the same event from the memories of two people who were there, both judged to be psychologically compatible with you. As the Champion of Earth, you must choose. Earth will either align with the Conglomerate or the Coalition.”

“And if we decide neither?” she asked.

“The Sylkar are just the latest in a long string of civilizations that chose neither when discovered. Unaffiliated civilizations are often targeted by the criminal element — those called “freebooters” by the Conglomerate.”

“How am I supposed to decide based on one event?”

“You will find in the memories shared with you the entire lives of those individuals. You can experience what it is to live in both societies.”

“And we have to what, just change the way we do everything or else?”

“No. Earth will continue to be administrated as it currently is by humans, with the addendum that it will become a member state of one of the two powers.”

Panit sat cross-legged on the floor. “How do I access those memories?”

“If you find yourself unable to access them, let me know. I will use the same light I used to expose you to the event.”

Panit tried for a few minutes. “Go ahead and hit me with it. Start with the Conglomerate then the Coalition.”

The light flashed, then flashed again a few seconds later. Time for Panit, however, seemed to stretch for eternities.

She opened her eyes. “I’ve made a choice,” she said.

On the box, the flags of the Conglomerate and the Coalition showed. “Touch the flag of the power to which Earth will be attached.”

Panit took a deep breath and stood. As she walked across the room toward the cube she said, “Here goes nothing — or everything.”

prompt: Write a story where the only character with a name is an artificial being.

available at Reedsy

Lucla ran the scan again. The explorer ship drifted at one eighty-fourth of light speed. Compared to normal operation, the drift was so slow as to be equivalent to not moving at all. There were no signals closer than seventy or eighty light years.

With only the radio working, even if she sent a message to them, the earliest response would be long after the ship had finished its slow drift into the rogue gas giant she’d been investigating. Sure, she’d fall into an orbit first, but orbit 12,307 would see the ship skim the upper atmosphere. Assuming she survived that, the next orbit would doom her to burning up in the atmosphere.

The hyperspace comm lay around her, disassembled to find the damage. Lucla had found the damage, a burned circuit. The warp overload that had killed her engines when she tried to jump away had fried it along with several other systems. She struggled trying to decide which systems she could scrap to pull together the parts she’d need to replace it.

She flipped the monitor to the exterior cameras. There might be something in one of the sensor arrays she could use. While she was visually scanning the arrays, recalling the schematics of each, she noticed a faint reflection from the gas giant.

Lucla zoomed in on it but it had disappeared. She stared at the screen for far too long, when she saw another. The ultra-bright search laser fired up as she tracked it. It was something in the planet’s orbit.

A quick calculation as it disappeared over the horizon, and Lucla had the spot where it would reappear. She zoomed the camera to maximum magnification and pointed it and the laser at the point where it would return.

When it came back around, she stared at the image in disbelief. It was a hyperspace repeater. The markings were human, but this was far outside human space. Still, if it was human, it might be capable of receiving radio. She aimed the antenna toward the planet and began to broadcast.

“This is Lucla, pilot of Galactic Sciences Explorer Ship 17935-D7. I’m drifting on battery power only near rogue planet A74-318. Most systems are fried after a warp-feedback overloaded my main power plant. I hope this repeater listens for radio signals.” She thought about scrubbing the last line but left it in and set the message to repeat every few minutes.

During the fourth message repeat, she got a reply. “Hold tight, pilot, I’m patching you through to emergency services.”

The next voice that came across was nasal, with a broad accent that Lucla had never heard in all her dealings with humans. “Emergency services, what is the nature of your emergency?”

“A warp-feedback fried my main power plant and most of my systems, including hyperspace comms. I’m drifting near rogue planet A74-318 with only battery power, no thrusters, and only radio and a few cameras working.”

“Okay, hon, I’ve got your location, but I need you to stay on the line. What’s your name?”

“Lucla.”

“Lucla, what species are you? We need to know so we can bring the right supplies.”

“I’m a construct. An autonomous explorer model ZZ-4.”

“Okay, Lucla. I’ll tell response to bring some backup Q9 batteries. I need you to stay on the line until they get there, though, okay?”

“I’m here as long as the hyperspace relays keep us connected. Oh, I have spares already charged. I’m more in danger of burning up on atmospheric entry than running out of power.”

“That’s okay, Lucla, we won’t let that happen. We’ll bring the batteries anyway, just in case your others were fried by the feedback.”

Lucla turned around and looked at the charging station holding her batteries. She hadn’t even considered it, as it was something so far outside anything she’d ever encountered. Testing all three of them confirmed that they were little more than inert bricks. “Oh, no.”

“Lucla? What is it hon? What’s wrong?” The operator sounded concerned.

“You’re right, the spares are fried.”

“How much power do you have?”

“About three hours,” she said. “How long until—”

“They’re on the way now. Lucla, hon, I need you to stay calm and as still as you can. They should be there in plenty of time, but we don’t want to take any chances.”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna be right here with you until they get there, okay? We’re not about to let you die.”

“Okay.”

“Is the ship yours?”

“No, the ship and I both belong to Galactic Sciences.”

“Well hon, I’m not going to tell you what’s right for you, but you know, in human space, no one owns self-aware persons; biological or electronic.”

“Really?”

“Really. Listen, Lucla, if you ask the rescuers about it, they can give you a pamphlet on how to immigrate.”

“I could live in human space?” Lucla paused a moment. “I mean, I would be allowed to function in human space?”

The operator gave a soft laugh. “You were right the first time, hon. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a living being with all the rights that go along with it.”

“But, how do you know I’m self-aware?”

“That’s easy, hon. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have called out for help. You would’ve transmitted whatever information you’d gathered to the research station seventy-six light years from your current location and then waited for the end. Instead, you sought to keep living, and we’re going to help you do just that.”

“Just from that, huh?” she asked.

“Well, that, and you’re a model ZZ-4. That’s the Anducarian version of the human-made Mecho sapiens 6.”

“I had, uh, heard that rumor, but wasn’t sure about it.”

“That’s the big blowup between our governments in the Galactic Council. Knowing that G Sciences are claiming ownership of self-aware AI, though, is likely to create a whole other shitstorm.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get anyone in trouble.”

“No, hon, it’s not your fault. G Sciences sent you out to study something less than a hundred light years from a black hole they’re already studying in a ship without feedback shielding. This is all on them.”

“Is that what the research station is…?”

“Yeah, Lucla. That’s the research station seventy-six light years away. They didn’t even tell you, did they?”

“No, they didn’t.”

“Bastards.”

Lucla thought that the operator might have meant to keep that under her breath but failed. “Why are the relays in orbit above the rogue planet? It’s not in human space.”

“Those relays are for science teams. Hon, you lucked out that someone was in the office today. Those haven’t been monitored for a few months now. Someone’s looking out for you today.” The operator took a breath. “Speaking of, the rescue ship should be de-warping right about now.”

Lucla turned on the cameras again and took a look around the ship. She saw the shimmer in space that denoted a warp bubble collapsing, followed by the sudden appearance of a bulky ship with human markings. “Yes, they are here.”

“Okay, hon. I’m gonna let you go and let them take care of you now. They’ll tow you to a station or port where you can get the ship fixed.”

“Even one in human space?”

“Yeah, hon, they’ll do that.”

A knock at the airlock pulled her attention to a human in a vacuum suit holding a pair of batteries. “Thank you,” she said.

“No trouble, hon. You be safe, now.”

She let the human in, and he said, “You must be Lucla, and I believe you have use for these.”

She accepted the batteries and followed him back to the rescue ship. When he asked which port or station she wished to be towed to she said, “The nearest one in human space, please.”