Tag: science fiction

prompt: Start your story with people arriving at a special ceremony.

available at Reedsy

The Bihrelli sidled close to me. They were an average sort of Bihrelli; hermaphroditic, bipedal, two-armed creatures just under one and a half meters in height, with huge, black eyes that made them cute. This one’s skin was a pale blue, with uneven pale brown spots. Their tail twitched in the way that showed nerves or fear. There was nothing unusual about that, at least for this one.

“Hi, Jordi.” I’d long ago given up trying to pronounce their name and used a close equivalent. They’d done the same with me, even though they were always so tense when we met.

“Greetings, Tŷlŷ.” They said the vowels like some sort of mega-diphthong that mixed a, i, o, and u. “I am glad you are here for this.”

“Me, in particular, or the embassy guard?” I asked.

Their tail twitched even harder. “It is always a pleasantness to be in your presence, but I am relieved to see you — a…and the other guards — here in armed uniform to keep us safe.”

“Do you think there might be trouble?”

“There are many who do not want to see this treaty finalized,” they said. Their tail wrapped around my ankle as they moved closer. “The Drogne Empire has publicly threatened Bihrel and said that a treaty with Terra would be treated as an act of war.”

I could feel the trembling of their tail against my ankle. “You’re safe here, Jordi. I’ll make sure of that.” I put a hand on their shoulder. “Do you really think Drogne will try to attack if Bihrel has the backing of the Terran Union?”

“I think it would be foolish of them, but it would not surprise me.” They seemed to realize that they had hold of my ankle, unwrapped their tail and took half a step backward. “I am sorry for the inappropriate action of my tail.”

I looked into their big eyes. “It’s okay. Why are you always so nervous around me?”

They grabbed their tail and held it in front of them. “You are so big, and your weapons are frightening, and I — uh — think you are pleasing to look at and talk to and I just wish that I could find someone like you to…” their voice dropped to a faint whisper, “to parent with.”

I smiled. I’d suspected they might have a crush on me, but now I knew. “Well, adoption is always an option, but don’t you think you should take me for a date first, at least?”

I don’t know why I said that. Was I serious? The last thing I’d want to do would be to play with Jordi’s feelings and hurt them. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe I was serious. At the very least, I knew there was more to Jordi than just the cute puppy vibe that Bihrelli had.

“Natalia, report.” The voice over the radio interrupted my thought.

“West entry, no traffic. Jordi’s keeping me company,” I radioed back.

“Eyes on. Presidential motorcade is arriving at the south entry in five minutes. Bihrelli delegation arriving in seven minutes at the west garden landing pad. Be ready to escort them to the event hall. Jordi can help out with that.”

“Affirm, chief.” I turned back to look at the little Bihrelli. “You stay with me while I escort the Bihrelli big-wigs, and I’ll take you out to dinner this weekend.”

“Is the Kŷmŷ coming here?” they asked.

“Yes, Jordi. The Koimoi of Bihrel is coming here to meet with the President of the Terran Union.” There was no way I could pronounce the weird vowels of the name of office of the leader of Bihrel, so I pronounced it as most humans did. Surprisingly, the President was known for speaking fluent Bihrellian, and her pronunciation was even better than that of the ambassador, who was at the moment waiting to meet her motorcade.

I felt the vibrations of the Bihrelli shuttle landing in the garden, and held the door open at attention. The Koimoi and their retinue walked from the shuttle, their tails held in an appropriate upward curve. Jordi followed their example and got their own tail under control.

I left translation to Jordi and spoke in Terran common. “Right this way, please.”

No sooner had the last of the Bihrelli walked in the door than another shuttle, a rental, zoomed in to hover above the shuttle on the pad. Three waves of half a dozen Drognen soldiers dropped out of the shuttle. Where the Bihrelli were cute, the Drognens were anything but. Looking like a nightmare cross of a toad and a praying mantis, they slowed their descent with wings that were useless for anything other than dropping to the ground with style.

The alarm klaxon sounded through the embassy. I pulled Jordi behind me and began firing at the intruders. “Get them to the hall!” I yelled.

The sound of gunfire was evident from all sides of the embassy. One of the Drognens set off an explosive on the Bihrelli shuttle. There was no way the pilot survived it.

I stepped back to try to get in the door before the embassy went into lockdown, and ran into Jordi, who was still behind me. “Why aren’t you inside?”

“I cannot. The door is locked.” 

“The Koimoi?” I asked.

“Safe inside.”

I pulled out my sidearm and handed it to Jordi. “Know how to—”

“I know how to work your weapon,” they said, ensuring there was a round in the chamber and the safety was off.

“You continue to amaze me.” I swapped out magazines on my assault rifle; thirty-two more rounds and then I was out. “Make every shot count,” I muttered to myself. 

The Drognens were using the fire and smoke from the shuttle to conceal their movements, but there was a clear area directly in front of the recessed doorway where we took cover. To my surprise, Jordi had climbed the vine trellis beside the door and was perched above me, their big eyes, set in such a way as to have a far wider field of view than us, scanning.

Their tail tapped my left shoulder, and I swung my rifle that way to take a shot at the shape moving through the smoke. I heard Jordi take a shot and curse.

With their eyes and my reflexes, we managed to take out seven of the Drognens before my radio crackled to life. “Friendlies coming over the wall into the west garden.”

“Hold!” I radioed back. “Drognen troops under concealment of smoke in the west garden.”

“Roger, Natalia. We won’t fire toward the door. Find cover, incoming.”

I pulled Jordi off the trellis, pushed them against the door, crouched, and shielded their body with mine. My ballistic vest was better than nothing and I expected all hell to break loose. It did.

Three explosions rocked the garden in quick succession, followed by the sound of Terran weapons firing from the wall. It ended as quickly as it began. I tried to stand, but a piercing pain in my leg dropped me to my knees.

Jordi held their tail up to me, the end covered in blood…my dark red blood, not their bright pink. “You are injured,” they said, “do not try to move.”

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I am uninjured.”

I saw a trail of bright pink blood trickling down their face. “No, you’re not.” I reached for it, but Jordi shrugged.

“I just banged my head when the explosions scared me. It’s nothing.”

“Good, good.” My leg began to throb. I didn’t know if I’d taken a bullet or shrapnel, but either way it was serious. I began to get lightheaded.

“She needs a medic!” they called out.

I was too out of it to make out what was being said on the radio, but I heard the doors unlock and the alarm stopped. The lockdown was over. I crawled to the door and opened it for Jordi. “Get inside while you can.”

The assault team carried me in, and Jordi stayed by my side, their tail wrapped around my wrist. I was glad of it. A medic put an IV in my arm, injected me with something, and I awoke in a bed in the embassy clinic.

Jordi was sleeping in the chair beside the bed, their tail wrapped around my right wrist. A large bandage covered my left thigh. I lifted the edge to see what was under it and saw the remnants of what looked like an extensive surgery.

They woke up while I was examining myself and I felt their tail tighten around my wrist. “I am glad you are alive.”

“Me too. Did they say what it was?”

“A large piece of metal from the shuttle — from when the Drognens blew it up. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t even notice until I tried to stand up after shielding you.”

“Thank you,” they said, “for saving my life.” They reached an idle hand up to a clear bandage over a couple of stitches above their right eye.

“Just doing my job.”

“Nonsense. Your job is to protect the embassy, the ambassador, and other officials, not a janitor.”

I grabbed their hand. “Well, I’m making it my job from now on. I’d hate to lose you.”

“As a coworker, or….” They trailed off.

“As a friend, at least. We’ll find out more as we go. Sound fair?” I asked.

“Very much so.”

“Where am I taking you to dinner?”

“You are not. I am taking you to my home to cook dinner for you,” they said. When I tried to interrupt they continued on. “I have been practicing cooking Terran food. I hope you like it.”

“Why can’t I take you out to dinner?”

“Because the doctor said you need to rest and stay off that leg for at least a week.” Jordi pulled out their comm pad and showed me a list of instructions and dates. “Until your first physical therapy appointment, which is already scheduled.”

“Wow, Jordi. Where is all this confidence coming from?”

“From you,” they said. “You did not laugh at me or turn me down right away, even though you are stronger, have a more prestigious employment, and are a much better fighter. That, and — I thought for a while I was going to lose you forever.”

“I thought the same,” I said. “So, first date at your place. You do move fast.”

“Second date,” they said. “The first was a little too exciting for me.”

It made me laugh, then I paused. “I wonder if we’re at war with the Drogne Empire now.”

“The Kŷmŷ and your President put out a joint statement about the terrorist attack here. The Emperor saw the wisdom of denouncing the attack by ‘unknown terrorists dressed as Drogne Palace Guards.’”

“You must have good connections around here, to know all that so fast,” I said.

They pointed with their tail at the screen on the wall. “Terran news.”

“Oh, yeah, they do seem to know everything that’s happening, whether they should or not.” I shifted slightly to one side in the bed. “Why don’t you use some of that newfound confidence to lay down here and snuggle with me? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

The little Bihrelli didn’t say anything, but crawled into bed next to me, their tail draped across my waist. I put an arm around them and snorted. “I don’t usually share my bed after the first date, but I’ll make an exception this time.”

“What about after the second?” they asked.

“You’re cheeky when you’re bold, aren’t you?” I patted their tail. “For you, sure. That doesn’t mean we’ll be doing anything right away, I just want to keep you close.”

“You are meant to be resting anyway,” they said.

“Yes, I am, and I feel so much more relaxed knowing you’re here and you’re safe.”

prompt: Set your story during the hottest day of the year.

available at Reedsy

The scant wisps of high cloud offered no hope for relief from the rising sun. The dark red soil had barely finished radiating the heat it had collected the previous day when the first rays of the sun lit the sky.

“Listen up, the word of the day is hydrate.” Captain Inez Isobel filled her canteen from the creek, pushed the button on the side, and waited for the red light on the button to turn green. When it had, she took a swig of the tepid water. “Tastes like shit, but it’s better than dying out here. Speaking of dying out here, every hour we spend reduces the chances for rescue of the crew. Weather check, McCoy.”

“It’s going to be the hottest day yet. Yesterday was already 147 drin. Shit, I can’t do hotter.” Corporal Alex McCoy, barely 150 centimeters tall, turned grey eyes in a pale face rimmed with strawberry blond hair and beard to the tall, dun-skinned woman with dark brown eyes and matching hair buzzed to a few millimeters.

“Corporal.” Isobel said the word in Dulxanit.

“Aye, Captain. Apologies. I will endure, we will endure, the Xeno Expeditionary Forces will prevail,” he replied in the same language.

She shifted back to English. “McCoy, I know you like to show off your mastery of Dulxan weights and measures, but could you please use human equivalents when it’s just us humans.”

“Yes, ma’am. It was about 43 Celsius — that’s 110 Fahrenheit, Mary-Jane — yesterday, with humidity at 22 percent. It’ll be hotter today,” he said, “but it’s a dry heat?” he added with forced jocularity.

“I know Celsius, Private,” Recruit Mary-Jane Smith shot back.

“Why did you join the Dulxan XEF?” Isobel asked, pronouncing the acronym as “zef.”

McCoy sighed. “Same story as most of us, I guess. We’re not supposed to ask, so forgive me, Cap, if I don’t elaborate.”

Isobel crossed her arms. “I know you’re probably running from a jail sentence or something, what I meant is, why did you join XEF rather than, say, hiding away in any other system outside human space?”

“I—uh—didn’t have that option. It was either the Dulxan Xeno Expeditionary Force, or Dulxan prison, and I couldn’t do another stint.” He turned all his attention on his satellite relay that displayed the weather patterns in real time, along with an overlay of the search grids the team had already combed and those that were left.

Mouths began to open, only to be shut again, as the troops all had questions, but knew better than to ask them.

Sergeant Abel Mahmouddi unfolded his wiry, two-meter frame from where he’d sat. His ebon skin showed no sign of age, although his close-cropped, tightly curled black hair had spots of grey at the temples. “XEFs, fill your canteens and be ready to move out, three minutes. McCoy, keep your eyes on our satellite, Smith on point. Private Doe, what’s our comm situation?”

Private Jane Doe gave a thumbs-up. “We’re five-by-five with command, still no fix on the transponder.”

As they trekked kilometer after slow kilometer, the sun rose, a baleful orange that made their camouflage pattern look washed out and grey. McCoy stayed close to Isobel and Mahmouddi, marking each area they searched as they went.

“Hey, Sarge,” he said, “I saw how everyone looked when I said Dulxan prison.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Mahmouddi said. “You’d have to fuck up pretty major to end up in Dulxan prison. And did you imply that you’d already done a stint?”

“Tell you what, Sarge. You or Cap tell me why you’re here, and I’ll tell you my story.”

Isobel spoke up. “That’s easy. You’ve already noticed I’m not using one of the ‘hundred names’, but my real name. That’s because I’m not running away from anything.”

“Not hard to believe, Cap,” he said. “I can’t imagine you being in trouble with the law anywhere.”

“I was in the Marines,” she said, “for the black sky Navy. I joined for adventure and travel. Instead, I spent my time on stations and guarding Ambassadors. I joined XEF for the adventure. I saw more action my first year in than I did in the six I spent as a Marine.”

Mahmouddi laughed. “I’m using my real name, too, but not because I’m not running away. I can never return to human space. First-degree murder doesn’t have a statute of limitations. I knew what I was getting into and so did my daughter. Those bastards won’t hurt her — or anybody — ever again, though.”

“Shit. Well, I guess it’s my turn. I, um, had a fling with Eviets, a Dulxan girl—”

“Wait,” Isobel said, “a hairy, snaggletoothed, stubby-legged, Dulxan? Like, with the extra bits down there and all?”

 “Yeah, Cap. Just like that. She was so sweet, though. I couldn’t help but see past all that.”

Mahmouddi’s eyes narrowed. “Was she underage? Is that why?”

“No, no, she…uh…used me…as a money mule. I didn’t know. She’d ask me to do her a favor and hand me a stack of credits with a filled-out deposit slip. Lots of different banks, but I figured it was normal for an interstellar business consultant. She travelled a lot for business, made lots of money, but still found time to keep me happy.”

McCoy marked their location on his display and continued. “It’s just that her ‘consulting’ business was money laundering for pirates and drug cartels. They arrested me while I was making one of the deposits and locked me up. I told them everything I knew, but they didn’t believe me. Eviets was in the wind. They said not even a human would get suckered in by someone as ugly as her, and I was in on it and in it for the money.

“That was the first term, for seven mita — about 2 years — and then they caught her, and she dumped it all on me. I knew I was fucked when I recognized the judge at the second trial as one of her regular customers. Now she’s free and I’m here.”

Mahmouddi chuckled. “You were with a Dulxan woman — an ugly one at that. Who was top?”

McCoy shook his head and sighed. “See, this is why I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re saying she was,” Mahmouddi said. “I see.”

“Would it matter what I said?” he asked.

“Not particularly,” Isobel answered, “as I couldn’t care less. I’m more concerned with our mission. But your history with a snaggletoothed fur-dwarf is safe with me.”

“For future reference, you might just claim the money laundering and skip the rest of the story,” Mahmouddi said.

A sharp whistle from Doe caught their attention. “I’ve got a transponder signal, but it’s weak. North-by-Northeast, probably ten or so kilometers.”

“Round ’em up for a pause,” Isobel said to Mahmouddi.

“Aye, Captain.” He raised his open hand over his head and circled it, giving the signal to assemble. Once the entire squadron was there, he said, “Drink up. We’ve got a signal and we’re diverting off the search grid. Ten minutes.”

“McCoy,” Isobel said, “weather report.”

“It’s currently 39 Celsius, and we’re expecting a high of 47,” he said. “For Mary-Jane that’s—”

“102 now, high of 117-sh” she said.

“Close enough. Humidity is dropping as the temperature rises, but we can expect 19 percent.”

“I said, drink up!” Mahmouddi yelled. “We’re going to push on through the heat before it cooks our Dulxan friends. Let’s remind ’em why they have an all-human unit in the XEF!” He switched to Dulxanit and called, “I will endure.”

The squadron answered back in Dulxanit with, “We will endure, the Xeno Expeditionary Forces will prevail.”

The squadron covered the distance in just under two hours. The Dulxan light freighter was wedged against the side of a cliff, the landing gear sheared off in the dense soil, the emergency ablative heat shield all but gone from the high-speed entry to the thick atmosphere.

There were no tree-like plants here to hide the ship. Isobel looked at the open plain and the clear sky above. “McCoy, why didn’t the satellite pick this up?”

McCoy showed her the view from the satellite. “Something in the rocks here is messing with the imaging. It’s all just a blur.”

“Doe, call command with our location. Tell them to send extraction and a medical team at once,” she yelled.

“Trying, Cap, but I can’t reach command. Something’s messing with the signal.”

Mahmouddi and the others were looking for a way into the ship, but the main door was wedged against the mountainside. Smith clambered up the rock face to get on top of the ship. “There’s an access here on top!” she called out.

Isobel looked at the Mahmouddi. “Sergeant, take two more and get into that ship. Be ready with medical requirements. And get me some comms.”

“Aye, Captain.” He turned to Doe. “Do you think you could get through from up there?” he asked, pointing at the top of the cliff.

“Maybe, probably. We didn’t bring any climbing gear, though.”

Smith had already clambered down. “I’ve done years of free climbing,” she said. “Give me the radio, and I’ll try to call from up top.”

Mahmouddi nodded. “Make it happen, Recruit. Doe, hand over the comms to Smith and come with me. Corporal Jones, you’re with me, too.”

Two of the squadron ran up to him.

“Shit, sorry, I forgot you got promoted last week. Corporal John Jones, you’re with me and Doe, Corporal Sally Jones, stay with the rest of the squadron and set up a protective perimeter. Corporal McCoy, keep an eye on the display for anything that might be coming our way.”

“Aye, Sergeant,” they responded in Dulxanit.

While Mahmouddi led his team into the ship, and Smith climbed the cliff face, McCoy kept watch on the satellite display. “Ma’am,” he asked, “what do you think a Dulxan freighter is doing all the way out here in Thaazi space?”

“I’m sure it’s above my paygrade,” she said, “not to mention yours.”

“Is this planet even inhabited?” he asked.

“Don’t know. It’s not on the public charts, but obviously the Dulxan know it’s here, and I would guess the Thaazi do too.”

Smith waved from the top of the cliff and gave a thumbs-up. Doe popped her head up from the ship and made the hand signal for medevac, followed by a raised hand with four fingers. Smith copied the movements and held a fist in front of her face to say she was relaying the info on comms.

“Here comes the parade,” McCoy said, pointing at his display. Two ships were marked in green on the satellite image, heading toward them.

“Give them a landing marker,” Isobel said. She whistled loud enough for Smith to hear from the top of the cliff and gave the signal to assemble.

When the ships landed, Dulxans in bulky environmental suits to keep them cool rushed out to the freighter. They cut through the side and carried the four injured and overheated crew out of the ship. The XEF squadron loaded onto the second ship as the last of the suited-up Dulxans left the freighter. The air in the extraction ship was a pleasant 19 degrees Celsius.

No sooner had they closed up the ship than the freighter exploded. McCoy showed Isobel and Mahmouddi his display. Where the image had been blurred and glitched, it was now clear.

She nodded. “It wasn’t the rocks.”

“And that was no freighter,” Mahmouddi said.

“Who cares?” McCoy asked. “I’m just going to enjoy this cool air for a while.”

He wasn’t alone. The XEF squadron fell silent as fatigue and the relief from the heat overtook them.

prompt: Write a story that includes the line, “Is nobody going to say it?”.

available at Reedsy

The mood in the room had been smothered to the point that if were to drop any lower, it would wrap around into manic chaos. Thirty-one red markers on the holographic display blinked and drew attention to themselves as they orbited the gas giant in the system.

“If they complete the gate, the frontier worlds are lost. They have to be stopped, now but … the nearest carrier strike group is the twelfth, and they won’t get here in time.” He looked at his reflection in the darkened screen of his terminal. Where he’d been a young captain only a few months earlier, he was now a commodore, and had aged at least ten years. Lines formed at the corners of his deep brown eyes, a few grey hairs showed at his temples, obvious in the otherwise jet-black hair. Dark circles gathered under his eyes, adding unwanted shadow to his warm brown skin.

“Commodore Singh, all due respect, sir, everything after ‘but’ is horseshit.” The woman who spoke looked out of place, wearing a track suit and trainers among a room full of dress uniforms and suits. Dull blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, showing a sun-darkened, beige face with dark freckles, and grey eyes. “The twelfth isn’t the closest or fastest resource.”

“Who are you?” he asked.

She stood and snapped to attention. “Major Brennan, sir, 48th SBS, Marines. Apologies for the state of my dress, but I was shuttled here directly from the gym on the Dublin.”

He nodded and she sat back down. “Major,” he said, “we may need to utilize the Dublin and Donegal to evacuate civilians. I’d lay good money on an Eire-class fast attack hunter against any two alien ships from anywhere. Still, there’s no way two fast-attack ships can take on a squid battle group.”

“We don’t have to take out the whole group, sir, just the flagship. Our intelligence says that without communication with their higher-ups, the squids are unable to organize and take coordinated action.”

“That’s all fine and well, I’m sure.” Governor Haight wore a rumpled, blue suit that set off her deep brown skin, her Afro uncharacteristically askew. Her pale brown eyes showed the weight of expectation. “How do we do that?”

Singh sighed. He gave the major a knowing look and set his jaw.

Brennan took control of the holograph. “Madame Governor, there’s no way for a fast-attack ship to fight through the battle group to the flagship, which is why we have to use stealth.” She entered a command that showed the class of each enemy ship, the flagship marked in purple. It was well within the sphere of other ships.

“Looking at it like this is misleading,” Brennan said, “as the space between each of those ships is a little over a kilometer. I’m suggesting we launch five, two-person BBs — that’s breaching and boarding torpedoes — with the goal of inserting a four-person and six-person team. It’s an hour and forty minutes from launch to attachment if we launch under cover of a patrol maneuver by the Dublin, staying just outside of the squid’s weapons range.” The display showed the Dublin in green moving toward the alien battle group, then turning a slow arc to return to their colony world. Behind the Dublin, five small, green lights continued on toward the alien ships.

She changed the display to show the layout of the alien flagship. “We attach two here,” she made a highlight on the display, “at the comms, and the other three here,” she made another highlight, “between engines and weapons, right near the escape pods.”

As she explained, the green markers representing the SBS squad members moved through the ship. “The first team cuts all communication. This cripples the rest of the battle group. Then they join forces with the second team here, at the main engine room, after the second team has disabled the escape pods. Once the engines are disabled, the full squad will go deck by deck, blowing or disabling every airlock, after which we detonate the BBs, exposing the entire ship to vacuum.”

The governor cleared her throat. “Don’t they breathe methane? Won’t the whole thing blow up, and you with it?”

“Their ship-board atmosphere is pure methane, no oxygen, so fire’s not a concern, unless we pump the ship full of an oxidizer, like the fluorine missiles. We don’t want to destroy it, though, we want to capture it.”

“We just pulled you here from the gym. How did you come up with this plan?” the governor asked.

Brennan smiled. “We gamed this out ages ago. We’ve just been waiting for an opportunity to capture a squid flagship.”

“How much oxygen do the BBs hold?” Singh asked. “Is it still just one hour, or have there been improvements?”

The major smirked. “One hour, sir. The upgraded versions aren’t due to be deployed to the fast attack ships for at least another two years.”

“With two hours of oxygen in your armor, that doesn’t leave a lot of time,” he said.

“Aye, sir. But we’ll get it done.”

“Madame Governor,” he asked, “what’s your decision?”

“What will you do once you detonate the boarding torpedoes?” the governor asked.

“If some of the other ships will move in closer to assist, we’ll expose the reactor to make it too radioactive for them to approach. If they don’t, we’ll sit tight until the twelfth gets here and they can capture the ship for intel.”

Haight looked between the major and the commodore. “The fleet won’t be here for a day and a half. Is nobody going to say it? It’s — you can’t — you’ll—”

Brennan looked the governor in the eye. “It doesn’t need to be said, Madame Governor.”

“Volunteers?” the commodore asked.

“I have too many. The entire squadron volunteered. We’ll draw names out of a hat, except for Lacey and Birkram. Lacey’s got a kid on the way, and Birkram has a two-year-old.” Brennan looked at the governor. “Madame Governor, do we have the green light?”

“What are the chances of success?”

“We’ll get it done, Madame Governor. Like our motto says, ‘By strength and guile.’”

“It feels wrong to throw away the lives of ten marines,” Haight said. “Is there no other way? Commodore?”

“Intel says they’ll finish the gate in the next ten to sixteen hours. After that, we have to admit defeat. They can bring thirty battle groups through in as many minutes.”

“If I may, Madame Governor,” Brennan said, “you aren’t throwing away ten marines. Ten marines are willing to pay the price to protect our borders from the squids, and considering the alternative, it’s a bargain.”

Haight took a deep breath. “Major,” she said, her voice cracking, “you have the green light.” Tears fell from her eyes, and she slumped in her chair.

The major stood and saluted. The commodore and governor both rose and returned her salute.

“God speed,” Singh said.

Haight looked like she was searching for words but not finding any. Brennan nodded at her. “Don’t worry, Madame Governor, we’ll make you proud. We knew when we gamed it out it might be a one-way trip.”

prompt: Write a story in which a case of mistaken identity plays a pivotal role.

available at Reedsy

Desperate people do desperate things. Jen convinced herself that what she was doing was desperate rather than insane. If anyone had the cure for her mother, it would have to be the aliens.

They’d arrived on Earth a few years ago, spending an inordinate amount of time dealing with human governments, greed, and tribalism. In the end, they were given places where their trade vessels could land, sell goods, and buy from the local populace in dozens of countries. One of those alien port markets happened to be just a hundred kilometers or so from her home.

Humans weren’t allowed near their ships, and they were very careful to not let anything they called “forbidden for primitive trade” out of their sight. They had no use for precious metals, human currency, or gemstones. They traded what they brought for other goods.

Jen had been lucky, in that a large part of the recent trades at her “local” port market had been live chicks, ducklings, goslings, and rabbits. She’d bluffed her way to the back streets of the market, nearer to where their ship lay hidden, by explaining to the aliens in detail how to care for the baby birds and rabbits.

When she’d finally been shooed away, she managed to hide in the back streets, creeping ever closer to the ship. Which is how she made her way to the cargo hold with the animals, where she found herself wondering what her next step would be.

She hadn’t felt anything other than a slight reduction in her weight when they left. She knew from the spate of news stories and documentaries that the aliens came from a system nearly eight-hundred light-years away. That they could cross those distances meant they had to have the technology to cure her mother’s cancer.

How long it would take, though, she wasn’t sure. Water was taken care of, as the tank carrying it for the animals was easy to get to. For food, she carried a case of two dozen meal bars, and a couple kilos of mixed nuts. It wasn’t ideal, but it was what she could find spur-of-the-moment when her desperation turned to action.

Jen guessed they’d taken off about two hours earlier, but she hadn’t eaten at all that day. She unwrapped a meal bar and took her time with a bite of it. When she was about to take the second bite, she heard movement, and large cargo door began to open.

She ducked behind the water tank. One of the aliens was probably coming in to check on the animals. A peek around the side of the tank, though, showed that the outer doors were open as well. A dim, red sun illuminated a world no other human had ever seen.

Panic began to set in. She hadn’t planned for what came next, beyond begging for help. She ducked back behind the water tank and calmed herself. Deep, slow breaths brought her heart rate down, and helped her settle her mind.

One of the aliens ducked behind the water tank with her, holding a bundle in their arms. “You’re finally here. Put these on and I’ll get you out of the port,” the alien said in perfect English.

The bundle contained clothes like those the aliens wore, with a head covering that was somewhere between beekeeper and hazmat. The gloves only had three fingers and a thumb that sat too low and was far too long. Still, she did her best to cover herself.

She followed the alien out of the ship, through the port, and into what must be a city, though there were no cars or analogues. The roads themselves, if they could be called that, moved. Everywhere she followed the alien, the other aliens gave them space, many bowing or holding up a single, long, middle finger. For a brief moment, she thought they were flipping her the bird, until she reminded herself that these grey-skinned, black-eyed, three-fingered aliens were not human and not given to human gestures.

They finally stopped in front of a low building with a yellow glass roof. The alien led her inside, then straight through the open main hallway beneath the skylight to a back room. There, the alien unlocked a panel on the wall and led her down a winding staircase to a dim basement.

More aliens waited for them in the basement. A map on the wall showed symbols she didn’t understand.

“Is that the human?” some of them asked.

Jen stripped off the gloves and lifted the headpiece off to the astonished gasps of the other aliens. “It’s true! You’re here!” they called out.

“I am Renthion,” the alien that had led her said.

“Hi. I’m Jen. What’s going on, and how do you speak English?”

“We do not speak English, Jen, but the devices we wear around our waist translate for us.” The alien that spoke raised a middle finger. “I am Abalorth, and I am honored to be in your presence, great general.”

“Um, wait, great what?” Jen asked.

“We understand you will want to secure payment,” Renthion said. “What is your desire?”

“Oh, I, uh, I just came here to find a cure for my mother’s cancer.”

They turned off their translators and spoke among themselves. Their speech sounded more like the murmur of water in a stony brook than anything else.

Finally, they turned back on their devices and Abalorth said, “We accept the price.”

Renthion pointed at the map and began explaining what all the symbols meant. It was a war map, with different troop types and sizes and terrain on display. It reminded her of the strategy games she regularly played, right down to “this unit type is weak to that one and stronger than that type.”

“We are badly scattered, as you can see. But we have it on good authority that the human great general that will stow away on a government ship will know how to turn things around for us.”

“But I’m not a great general, I’m just—”

“Your modesty is appreciated, but unnecessary. We will leave you alone with the map for a while to make your plans. Writing materials are just there, by the map.” They filed out of the dim room and Jen sighed.

She didn’t know who they were fighting, or what was their cause, or whether it was even just. No matter what she did, though, someone was going to pay the price for what she decided. Either this group meeting in secret, or the others that had them outnumbered.

She paced the small room, stopping in front of a mirror. “What are you doing, Jen?” she asked her reflection. “Are they trying to overthrow their government? Probably, judging by the huge amount of armored type units on the other side. Does their government need to be overthrown, or are these guys religious fanatics?”

She groaned and paced some more. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the look on her mother’s face when the doctor told her they’d have to stop the chemo because it wasn’t working and there were no more options.

“Screw it,” she said to herself, “mom’s worth whatever price I put on my soul.”

Jen studied the map as if it were one of her strategy games and began scribbling out early plans and options for each unit. Then she addressed any actions the enemies might take with counteractions by the troops.

If it was her favorite strategy game, she’d have the seemingly overwhelming army defeated within twenty turns and lose at most a tenth of her own armies. She was still looking for any stupid moves the enemy might make — she’d addressed every smart, logical move — when the door opened ant the aliens came back in.

Abalorth looked over the pages of notes she’d scribbled on the smooth paper. “Can you explain your plans?”

“Sure.” Jen picked up her notes, in order, and stepped in front of the map. As she pointed to units on the map and explained their best course of action, those unit markers would move on the map. As she talked through the action-reaction portion of the combat, the enemy markers would move, and the friendly markers would follow her recommendations. She detailed everything, including the possible need to sacrifice two units in order to bring down four to six enemy units.

After an hour of explaining what took her twenty minutes to figure out, she looked at the aliens. They all sat in silence for a long minute before Renthion raised a hand, his middle finger up. “It is as our spy said, the general is a genius.”

“I’m not really—”

Abalorth and another alien cut her off with a bow, holding out a large case. “This contains an automated healing machine. It is not allowed for trade with your people, but since you held up your end of the deal, we will uphold ours.”

“But I haven’t really—”

“The troops began moving quite a while ago. It was as you said.” Renthion pointed at the map. The units reset themselves to a position in what Jen considered the “late early game.” The enemy troops were responding in some cases in the most obvious way, in a few cases the second or third most likely she’d expected.

She heard explosions outside as one of the enemy armored units barreled past their location, getting themselves trapped in a kill funnel at the edge of the city. Explosions could be heard further afield as well. Units began disappearing from the map.

Four armored units and two light mounted met up at the edge of a clearing. Jen felt sick. This was the point where the purpose of two entire light mounted units was to draw them out and get obliterated while infantry closed in from behind to mine their escape from the heavy artillery that would begin to pound them from the far tree line.

The alien numbers depicting the size of the sacrificial units began to fall until they pulled further out into the clearing. Jen found herself sweating, silently urging the enemy units to take the bait. They did. She watched them advance in formation, while infantry units moved behind them to mine their escape.

The bait units continued to maneuver and dwindle until one blinked out existence on the board. The other made a beeline for far trees when artillery began raining down on the pursuing forces. They pulled back in a hurry, almost running into the infantry units that were scattering in the woods behind them.

As the enemy retraced their steps, their unit numbers began falling, until three had blinked out of existence, and the remaining three were trapped by the damaged vehicles. The infantry reformed around them, and those three enemy unit markers also soon disappeared.

There were battles happening in other locations on the map but watching that one closely left Jen feeling sick. She’d just sent a bunch of people to their death, and she didn’t even know what for. She clutched the case with the healing machine. Was her mother really worth that many lives? What gave Jen the right to decide?

She stared at the map in stunned silence over the next hours, watching more and more of the previously outmanned units coalesce and claim more of the map. The final push was for the center of the city, where the halls of government lay.

Jen said a silent prayer to any god or gods that might be somewhere out there, to forgive her weakness. Tears ran down her face unbidden for the unknown lives that were lost. The room grew silent around her, and then exploded in sounds of joy and celebration. “What have I done?” she muttered under her breath.

The map changed to show video from the government building. Grey aliens like the ones around her celebrated as massive, reptilian aliens were led out of the building in chains. With the devices on the aliens around her, she could understand what the alien shouting into what must have been a microphone was saying to the crowd.

“We have thrown off the shackles of the bordlenorb and now are masters of our own destiny. Freedom for the people, freedom for Rorbenthor” The translators didn’t translate their word for the reptilian aliens or the planet’s name, but it was enough that Jen understood what was going on.

She didn’t feel quite so bad about the dead enemies any longer, but it didn’t assuage the guilt she felt for trading so many lives for her mother’s. She dropped the case and fell to her knees, sobbing.

Renthion sat on the floor near her. “Are you injured?”

“No. Yes. I mean, not physically, but I just caused so much death, and for what?” She forced herself to look Renthion in the eye. “I am selfish, and thought only of my mother, not what my actions would cost.”

Renthion put a hand on her arm. “Do you know why we were not allowed to trade that device?”

“No.”

“It would mean that humans would live far longer, healthier lives, and likely reach the stars sooner. The bordlenorb, our previous lords, forbade us to help any ‘primitive’ world advance.”

Abalorth helped her to her feet. “You may have only been thinking of your mother, but what will others do with this?”

“Is this something we have the technology to recreate?” she asked.

“Maybe not today, but very soon.” Renthion stood, picked up the case and handed it back to her. “Your scientists and materials experts have the know-how, it will just take some time.”

Jen sighed. “Only governments and big corporations have the resources for that, and it’ll be limited to the ultra-wealthy in the end.”

Abalorth bowed slightly. “Scarcity economy, of course. Perhaps if you had the resources, it could be shared in a fair manner?”

“Yeah, but that’s not happening any time soon.”

They turned off their devices and burbled among themselves again, checking the alien script on the map screen while they directed it to do something. After they reached a consensus, Abalorth turned back to her and asked, “Would thirty-two-thousand kilograms of gold be enough resources?”

Jen stared. “Would what? That’s — a lot of gold. Like a billion dollars’ worth? Two billion?”

“Would that be enough?”

Jen nodded. “Yeah, yeah it would.”

“Well then, general, we have an agreement, and we expect to see great things from humans in the near future,” Renthion said.

“Like I said, I’m not—”

“Nonsense. You figured out how to best use our remaining troops in almost no time at all. All of our field commanders are taking your lessons as they move forward to clearing out the last of the bordlenorb.” Renthion motioned for her to follow but didn’t make her put on the clothing again.

As they passed through the streets on their way back to the port, the passersby cheered and held up a middle finger. Renthion’s translator caught their cheers for the human great general that had freed them all.

She rode back to Earth in a comfortable seat, then was taken in a smaller craft to her home along with a vault that opened only to her touch, crammed with gold. She bid the aliens goodbye and brought the healing machine to her mother.

While the machine did its work, she began researching how to set up a non-profit research organization and how to hire top talent scientists. She would not feel at ease with her actions until she had saved at least a hundred times as many people as she had condemned to death on Rorbenthor.

Something Renthion had said on the return trip echoed through her mind. “Only a great general  weeps for the cruelty of war, even after winning it.”

prompt: Make a character’s obsession or addiction an important element of your story.

available at Reedsy

The sun had set, and the planet dominated the sky, the swirls of color it was painted with brightly illuminated. The shadow of the moon would transit the planet’s face in a while. The telescope and camera were set up to capture it when it showed.

There wasn’t much else for a Royal Expeditionary Frontier Police officer like T-937/K, “Tik” to his peers, to do this far into the neutral zone. He knew what he wanted to do, but the chance of doing it here was as close to nil as to make no difference.

He checked the time on his eye implant, setting it to hover at the edge of his vision. After double-checking that the telescope and camera were properly set to capture the transit shadow, he focused on the time remaining until he needed to start the tracking.

“Hey, Tik, how many of those transit videos do you have now?”

“Morning, Kel. If this one is good, it’ll be four good ones and half a dozen that aren’t worth mentioning.” K-371/L was a fellow officer of equal rank, but she had seniority, being a year older than he was.

“Well, better focusing on something you can see and record than—,” she cut herself off. “I mean, it’s good that you have something else to think about.”

“Rather than proving they exist?” he asked. “I swear it was them, when my parents … its image is seared in my brain.”

Kel lay on the ground near him. “You remember a lot of stuff from before you were taken in to the police crèche. Do you remember your name?”

“I don’t,” he said, “but I’m sure I had one that wasn’t T-937/K or Tik. But most of what I remember is flashes, vague images, and … that day. Why don’t you have any memories before that?”

“I was taken in at birth.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were a legacy.”

“I’m not,” she said, “or at least I’ve been told I’m not.”

Tik held silent as the final moments ticked down and he started the telescope and camera, tracking the moon’s shadow beginning just below the horizon. “I thought the only newborns allowed were—”

“The children of officers, yeah,” she cut him off. “I don’t think any of us really know where we came from. They tell us what we need to hear in the crèche to mold us into proper officers.”

“I remember where I came from,” he said, rubbing the scar that ran down his face from temple to jaw, “even if it is just in flashes. I especially remember what happened the day my parents were killed, when the monsters were there.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I believe you.” She rubbed his shoulder. “You won’t ever be able to prove it, but I believe you believe you saw what you say you saw.”

Tik snorted a short laugh. “Thanks for the rousing endorsement.”

Kel pointed at the sky. “We’re a long way from the main shipping lanes, but do you think they might show up here?”

“I doubt it, but I’ll have a better chance of catching them if I’m looking at the sky when they do.” Tik groaned. “The transit videos are getting boring, and the great storm hasn’t changed since we got here.”

“Hey, amateur astronomer, is that a tiny moon, or an asteroid?” Kel asked.

Tik looked toward the area of the sky where she had pointed. It was too small to be any of the known moons or moonlets of the planet above them, and it reflected the light of the sun in a way an asteroid likely wouldn’t.

He removed the aiming scope from the telescope and pointed it at the object. “It’s a ship,” he said, “but not one of ours.”

Kel snatched the scope away and looked for herself. “That’s a weird ship. Maybe one of the colony freighters?”

“No,” Tik said in a near-whisper, “I think it’s them.”

“Your obsession needs to take a break.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Tik snatched the aiming scope back, reattached it to the telescope and pointed at the ship, following it manually.

Kel fell silent as she watched the telescope focus on the ship in the camera’s display. The writing on the ship was unlike any from anywhere in the Empire and Commonwealth. Not even among the civilizations outside the E&C, most of whom had at worst strained relations and at best trade partner status.

Tik’s hands shook, and he was glad the telescope was heavy and self-stabilizing. “The rectangle mark on the front of the ship, I remember that.”

“Is it changing direction?” Kel asked.

“It is.” He kept tracking the ship, even when it was only visible by a few lights as it passed through the shadow of the moon. “It’s coming toward us.”

“That’s pretty obvious,” she said, “since we’re looking more at the front than the side.”

Tik tracked the ship with the telescope as it passed overhead until it passed below the horizon. He opened the small terminal of the telescope and began typing furiously.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to get an estimate of its expected orbit.”

“To get more video of it?”

“No, I’ve got to warn command.”

“Tik, what if it’s just—” Kel trailed off.

The terminal spit out a tape with markings that could be read by a tracking console, like the one on the telescope … or in a trans-orbital shuttle. He grabbed the tape and ran for the barracks.

It was only after pounding at the watch commander’s door that he realized he’d left the telescope behind. It couldn’t be helped, this was more important.

“Come in, T-937/K. What’s got you by the tail?”

He laid the tape on the commander’s desk. “Alien vessel, currently orbiting this moon. I think it’s—” he stopped himself.

“You think the monsters have come back for you?” the commander asked with more than a hint of derision in her voice.

“Commander, it doesn’t matter what I think,” he said, “there’s an alien vessel out there with markings that don’t match anything known.”

The commander fed the tape into a reader on her desk and waited while the image on her wall changed. “Let’s just see what we have. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

The image came up and the watch commander stood in stunned silence for a moment. “Full scramble, intercept, detain and ascertain threat.”

“Yes, sir!” Tik ran out of the office while the console sent out the command to all on-duty units to intercept the unknown ship.

Tik jumped into the first open boarding shuttle he found and was surprised to see Kel already there. “I left the telescope,” he said.

“I brought it as far as the launch field when the alarm went out. It’s sitting in hangar seven.”

“Thanks.” Tik shrugged into one of the body armors hanging in the shuttle and checked that the comms and camera were working. He then grabbed a rifle from the rack, made sure it was charged, and the safety was on.

“Who knows?” Kel asked. “We might prove that one of the cryptoxeonlogy creatures are real.”

Tik sneered. “Is that what you think? They’re like the Aldeveran asteroid monster or something?”

She didn’t get a chance to respond, as the intercom crackled to life. “Approaching alien vessel. No sign of weapons, and they’ve extended a docking port. Environmentals on, weapons safe.”

Tik fastened the breather around his neck and checked again that his weapon was on safe. He lined up first to step out once they had docked.

The warning lights came on, flashing amber, as the inner door to the docking ring airlock opened. An enclosed walkway stood in front of them, open into a large bay in the alien ship.

As soon as the outer airlock door opened, Tik stepped through to the walkway and made his way into the alien ship, his weapon at low ready.

He stepped into the bay and saw them, freezing him in panic. It was the same one he had nightmares about, but it seemed even bigger in real life.

It spoke with a heavy accent. “Hello. We are researchers. We have been analyzing your signals for a long time now, and when we saw you so close to our home, we stopped for a look.” It turned toward Tik and dropped to its knees. It reached a gentle hand out and caressed the scar down his face. “It’s you. You made it. I’m sorry I got there too late for the others.”

Tik didn’t know how to respond. He’d spent every waking moment trying to find evidence of the monsters that killed his parents and took their ship, and every sleeping moment in nightmares of finding them, and now … now it was here, touching his face, and he felt no fear.

“I thought you killed them,” he said, “but I’m not scared of you.”

“I didn’t. The pirates left everyone for dead when we showed up. You were in bad shape, but one of your own people in a uniform like yours came and took you away.” Tears rolled down the monster’s face as it embraced Tik as if he were its own child.

Tik released his hold on his weapon, letting it hang by the sling as he returned the embrace. The monster … alien … was twice his size but held him gently. Tik felt lighter, as if the weight of the past had been lifted from his shoulders.

He was brought out of it by Kel stepping on his tail. “Ouch! What’s that for?”

“You found your cryptids,” she said, “but I thought you were going to hunt them to extinction?”

“I—I’ve been remembering it wrong. The monsters didn’t kill my parents and take the ship, they saved me.”

“I wish I could’ve done more,” the monster said.

“I can’t just keep calling you monster,” Tik said, “what are you? What do you call yourself?”

“My name is Alfibeth, and I’m a human. It’s a pleasure to finally have a proper meeting,” she said.

prompt: Dream up a secret library. Write a story about an adventurer who discovers it. What’s in the library? Why was it kept secret?

available at Reedsy

After nearly thirty years of research, field work, digging, and sometimes living off the land, Ana had finally found what her family had sought since her great-grandfather. The door was so well hidden that she hadn’t realized it was there until she attempted to break a bit of the surface rock off with her geologist’s hammer. The hollow behind the door resonated with the sound of the hammer on stone.

She tapped along the door to find the edges. With the chisel end of her hammer, she chipped away the encrustations that had built up along the edges.  After hours of hammering, chiseling, and digging at the base, the outline of the door was visible. Made of the same rock as the surrounding gneiss, it had gone unnoticed for untold millennia.

Ana pushed the door from the sides, the middle, the top, the bottom, looking for the smallest movement. The door didn’t budge. She sat, leaning against the door on the flat bit of ground she’d dug out. She ate some of the year-old jerky she had in her pack while the sun set.

It was a clear, moonless night, and Ana focused her attention on the whirl of the Milky Way overhead. The sight wasn’t enough to keep her mind off the stubborn door behind her and the aching of her joints from sitting on the rocky ground.

She stood and turned to take a last look at the door for the day. Even in the faint light of the stars, she thought she could make out the edges. At one corner, a flash caught her eye. She moved her head back and forth, trying to find the position that had, she thought, reflected light.

Not finding it, she pulled out her flashlight and shone it on the corner of the door where the flash was. She expected to see a reflection but saw none. She turned out the light, and there it was, except it was two flashes this time.

There was no doubt it was coming from inside, shining out a pinhole in the door seam at the upper left corner. “Monkey see, monkey do?” she asked herself. She pointed the flashlight at the corner and flashed it twice. When nothing happened, she flashed it again.

The response was five flashes. “Oh, fibbi-whatever,” she muttered. “Three and five is eight.” She flashed the light eight times. There was no immediate response. She began to worry that she’d been wrong in her counting or in what pattern they were looking for.

A loud hiss sounded as the whole door slid out away from the wall. Bright light shone around the edges of the door that continued to slide out, far thicker than she’d expected. Where she’d stopped digging in front of it, the door bulldozed its own path.

It stopped with a little less than a meter clearance between the back of the door and front of the rock wall. Beyond lay a downward-sloping walkway. It was shaped like an oval with a flattened floor. A voice echoed from within, “Enter, Anastasia.”

She didn’t know how they knew who she was, but she wasn’t going to turn back after having come so far. She stepped around the door, held by a single, flat piece of metal that disappeared into a groove in the ceiling. The metal that held the massive slab of stone looked far too flimsy for purpose, but pushing against the edges of the open door did nothing to sway the door or distort the metal support.

With a deep breath, Ana threw her pack over her shoulder and stepped into the hallway. As she continued down the hall, more would illuminate ahead of her while behind her, the lights shut off. Where the light came from was a mystery to her, but she was more interested in what lay ahead at that point.

She felt a slight, sudden increase in air pressure in the tunnel, followed by the echoing sound of the door as it closed. She pushed down the edges of panic that wanted to take hold. “I’m on my way,” she said to the tunnel.

The deeper she went, the more the temperature seemed to settle at close to fifteen or sixteen degrees Celsius. Her lips felt dry in the still air, and she applied lip balm while she continued apace ever deeper. Somewhere far underground, the tunnel curved back on itself and kept descending. After two more switchbacks, and what felt like hours of walking, she found herself in a chamber.

It was monumental in scale. The walls curved to meet at least twenty meters overhead. As the lights in the chamber came up, the far side looked a hundred or more meters away, while the doorway she was in was situated about twenty meters from the walls on either side. Covering the bottom two-thirds of the walls were row upon row of plastic-like boxes with lights blinking inside them.

In the center of the chamber was a dais with a holographic glyph floating in the air above it. Standing next to the dais was the owner of the voice she’d heard on entering. The shape was semi-translucent, the lights from the boxes behind it seeming to light it from within.  “Welcome,” it said, although it had no mouth with which to speak. Its form shifted and changed, from an amorphous blob to an array of wings and eyes, then through creatures both real and mythical, until it finally settled into the shape of a large woman with wings.

“Who are you?” Ana asked.

“I am the keeper,” it said. “You are Anastasia, the seeker, yes?”

“I’m Anastasia Kell, but I go by Ana.” Ana moved closer to the center of the chamber and the shape-shifting entity at its center. “What is your name?”

“I am the keeper. I have no name.”

“Fine, I’ll call you Odette, then. You look like an Odette.”

The keeper flapped its wings twice, then shrunk its body by adding a long tail. “That is acceptable, seeker Anastasia.”

“Please, just call me Ana.”

“Of course, Ana. Please, come to the dais for your reward. Your dedication has won through.” The keeper moved away from the dais and extended an arm toward Ana. The arm kept extending, reaching Ana’s hand twenty meters away from the keeper.

Ana was surprised that the hand felt warm and dry. She’d expected some sort of slimy, cold thing, but it wasn’t. She let herself be led to the dais. “What are you?”

“I am the keeper.”

“Are you a biological creature or a construct of some sort? Some sort of soft-body robot, maybe.”

“I am a biological construct, designed to keep a record of all intelligent life on this world. I have been keeping these records for 72,363,412 years.”

“Since what…the dinosaurs?”

“Yes. The first were theropods. Traveling in hunter groups, they had a limited language. If they had been more adaptable, they might have not been already dying out by the time of the asteroid.” The keeper changed its shape to a theropod that Ana didn’t recognize. It was about the same height as her, with three-toed feet, three-fingered hand on medium-length arms, and a slightly domed head.

“That’s what they looked like?” she asked.

“Yes.” The keeper shifted into the shape of a porpoise. “There were and are the cetaceans, of course. They have language and culture but are not in a position to leave their cradle.”

“Is that what you’ve been waiting for? An intelligence capable of space travel?”

“Yes. My creators have placed other keepers like me on millions of worlds.” The keeper changed into a sphere. “This is where I am keeper.”

“So now, humans, I guess, are what you’ve been looking for.”

The keeper changed into a primate that resembled a chimpanzee and then morphed through several hominin species shapes, pausing on Neanderthal before finishing up with modern human. “I’ve watched entire civilizations come and go without so much as a scratch to mark them in the geologic record, and yet your kind has made an indelible mark on the planet. Whether that is for better or worse remains to be seen.”

“My guess would be worse, but I’m a pessimist.”

“So you say, but you never stopped searching for the library at the heart of the world.”

“True.” Ana took a deep breath and put a hand on the dais. The holographic glyph hovering above it disappeared, and an eight-limbed creature appeared in its place.

The creature spoke in English, even though its squishy mouthparts made movements that were often in total contradiction to the sounds it made. “Welcome, seeker Anastasia. Updating. Welcome, Ana. What would you like to learn today?”

“What are my limits here? This place was hard enough to find, what kind of things won’t you tell me?”

“The records will answer any questions you have that can be answered. Nonsensical and paradoxical queries will be ignored. The library is hidden to ensure that only those ready to take the next steps beyond their cradle can find it. As such, all our knowledge is yours for the asking.”

“So, I blinked a light in a simple sequence. How does that mean we’re ready to take the next steps – whatever those are?”

“You are the fourth generation of your family that has searched for the library, correct?” the holograph asked.

“I am.”

“And you have spent the majority of your adult life in the same search, have you not?”

“I have,” she said, “but how does that–”

“Multi-generational planning and execution, combined with drive and determination, and the knowledge of basic mathematical concepts. This is enough to start with.”

“Are you just another aspect of Odette?”

“No, I am the avatar of Krshnlgik-mlOgnk, the current head of remote planetary studies on our home world of MFkst.” The pronunciation of the non-translated names sounded more like someone choking in a bowl of oatmeal than a language.

“Is faster-than-light communication possible?”

“It is. I am currently speaking with you from a distance of thirty-one thousand light years.”

“How?”

A series of formulae appeared in the space above the dais. “You may use your phone to photograph these, since memorization might be difficult.”

Ana did. “And faster-than-light travel?”

The formulae were replaced with more, some of which looked similar to the first. She photographed those as well.

“Do you have any other questions?”

“How can you claim to keep track of everything happening all over the world?”

“The keeper, or Odette as you call it, has a connection through quintillions of microscopic wormholes to points all over the planet.”

“So, would you have the contents of the Library of Alexandria as they were just before it burned?”

“We do.” Thousands upon thousands of titles scrolled by, many in languages Ana couldn’t even guess at, but with an English translation next to them.

“That might be something for another day,” she said. “Are there others out there in the galaxy or just your people?”

“There are many others,” the avatar said, as images of dozens of strange body plans showed. “We are a small part of a wider galactic community.

“You seem to be pondering something,” the keeper said. “Do not be afraid to ask your question.”

“How do we get off this rock and join the galactic community?”

The keeper morphed into the shape of a cozy chair and said, “Get comfortable.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because,” the avatar answered, “this is going to take a long time to explain.”

prompt: Write a story about a character driving and getting lost.

available at Reedsy

Arn pushed the truck as fast as he felt was safe, and then some. The terrain was uneven, bouncing the truck like a paper boat in a storm. He swerved around unfamiliar trees with their pinkish trunks, the low brush scraping the sides of the truck with a sound like nails on a chalkboard.

He could’ve been back already if the road hadn’t been bombed to hell. The interlocking, grey canopy above hid the sky and any hope of navigation. He looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the gyro bed and attached seat in the back. A wounded pilot on the bed, the medic doing everything she could to keep her alive.

From his vantage point, the bed bounced and swung wildly, while from their perspective, the bed maintained little more than a gentle sway while the truck around them jerked around in response to the terrain. He couldn’t spare more than a glance, though, as speeding through the forest required his attention. He avoided notice of the body bag strapped on the floor beneath the bed.

“Luz, any luck on the radio?” he asked the medic.

“Negative. I’ve gotta find this bleeder,” she said, “we’re running low on synth blood.”

“External?” Arn asked.

“Internal. If you think we can sit still for a few minutes, I need to open her up and find it.”

“You got it.” He slowed to a stop, realizing for the first time that his hands were cramped around the wheel, his heart pounding and his breath ragged.

While Luz did field surgery on the pilot, Arn tried to raise anyone on the radio, but was met with only static and silence. He switched the radio to transmit a locator-only signal on the emergency channel.

“Hey, Arn, I need a hand.”

He slid out of the driver’s seat and stepped into the back of the ambulance. He grabbed gloves from the dispenser on the wall and pulled them on. “Where do you need me?”

“Hold these clamps. Don’t let go, but don’t squeeze too hard.”

“I know how to hold an artery,” he said.

“Look at your hands, they’re like claws right now.”

He flexed his fingers a few times. “Shit, you’re right. I’ll be careful.” He took control of the clamps, surprised that it hurt to hold his hands in the right position. The clamps were situated one on each side of a nick on the right common iliac artery.

Luz dug through the bin beside her and pulled out a tool. “Hold very still.” She used the tool to apply a screen around the artery where it was nicked, then filled the screen with a paste that sealed it closed.

She took back control of the clamps and released them with slow, deliberate movements, letting the artery settle back into its normal position. Luz let out a sigh. “Can you start up the suction so we can—”

She was interrupted by the sound of trees crashing down. Arn didn’t respond to Luz but dove back into the driver’s seat as fast as he could, strapping himself in even as he began to build up speed again.

“Sorry, Luz. Drain and staples for now?”

“Yeah, just get us away from the crawlers.”

The crawlers, alien behemoths of segmented, armored vehicles standing three meters high on twelve pairs of legs, could move almost as fast as Arn could drive the truck through the forest. Unlike the ambulance, though, the trees were no obstacle as the crawlers pushed them over like grass in front of them.

“We should’ve been back over the line to friendlies by now,” Luz said.

“I know. I think I’m going the right way, but with no sky, there’s no way to tell.” Arn grunted as he bounced the truck through a particularly rough patch. “Why are they wasting crawlers to chase an ambulance anyway?”

“Hey, Arn, I don’t know if you heard, but there’s no Geneva Convention on this planet.”

“I figured that out right away when they started shooting at us.” He sped up more, his body slammed against the restraints over and over, looking for anything to point him in a direction.

“Tell me again why we rushed across lines to rescue a downed pilot and gunner, rather than waiting for infantry?” she asked.

“We were closest, barely ten klicks, and MI wasn’t going to get there for at least an hour. They would’ve been crawler meat by then.”

“It would be safer if the ambulances were armored,” she said.

The crawlers never slowed, but he’d left them behind some when he saw a bright spot in the forest ahead. “There’s a clearing ahead. I’ll slow down and get my bearings.”

“I hope we’re close,” Luz said. “At least she’s stable for now.”

As he neared the clearing, he saw a crater surrounded by trees downed fanning out away from it. “Bomb crater. I’ll have to get out to see anything.”

“Don’t take too long.”

“No shit.” Arn jumped out of the truck, one of the razor-sharp bushes cutting his calf as he did. He ignored it and stepped into the edge of the bombed out clearing and looked to the sky. Based on the time of day and the position of the planet’s sun, he’d been running a line parallel to the front.

Arn climbed back into the truck and turned it right ninety degrees as he started driving again. “If I can maintain this direction we should hit the front soon.” 

The sound of the crawlers grew closer, coming from their right. “Hold on, Luz, they’re taking the short-cut. I’ve gotta go faster.”

No sooner had he said it than he pushed down the accelerator and shot through the trees at dangerous speeds. The gyro bed made thunking noises as it hit its upper and lower stops. It wasn’t the smoothest of rides for their patient, but it would have to do.

“We should be getting close enough,” he yelled over the din of the banging truck, “try the radio again.”

He whipped the truck around a tree and started to slide. Before he could regain control, the rear of the truck hit a tree, bouncing them back into a mostly controlled direction. Arn knew he was driving too fast for the conditions, but it was that or be pulled apart by the crawlers.

The forest opened up into a road crossing in front of him with a steep grade. “Hang on!” he yelled as he gripped the wheel tight and kept the accelerator floored. The truck jumped the road. For a brief second, he was weightless, he saw two crawlers approaching on the road, then they slammed into the ditch on the other side.

The truck made a lot of noises it wasn’t supposed to, but he kept it floored as it limped into the trees before stopping with a grinding groan. In the silence, he could hear radio traffic, and the sound of tracks outside.

Arn took stock of the situation. Two tanks rumbled past him, firing rounds toward the area where he’d seen the crawlers. The ambulance was totaled. He’d hit so hard that the steering wheel was bent toward the dash on one side. A puddle of blood surrounded his left foot from where the bush had slashed him.

“How’s the patient?” he asked.

“Still stable. Evac is on the way.”

“How about you?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Banged my head a couple times, but nothing serious. You?”

“I might need some stitches. One of those bushes got me. Nothing serious, though.”

Luz stuck her head into the cab and looked Arn, and the floorboards, then back at Arn. She keyed the radio again, “Make that one for retrieval and two for evac.”

“I’m fine,” Arn said. He tried to wave her away but realized there was a sharp pain in his arm when he did. He looked down to see the extra bend in his right arm where he’d broken it. “Oh, maybe not.”

prompt: Write a story titled ‘Paradise Lost’.

available at Reedsy

Jade leaned back against the tree that sat surrounded by a few meters of grass with a sign that said, “Dedicated to the memory of Howard Mack.” Beyond the grass lay leveled land-vehicle parking and travel lanes, a shuttle landing port, and the sprawl of commerce they serviced.

The lone tree she leaned against used to be one of hundreds. An accidental orchard of sorts, propagated by the squirrels that escaped the bounds of their “escape-proof” enclosure at the research center.

Years upon years were spent on research to perfect a sustainable, balanced ecosystem, only to have the squirrels make it all moot. Escaping with a handful of newly received English walnuts, the squirrels had done more to shape this area of Eden in a decade than humans did in the preceding sixty years.

“Hey, Jade. Taking lunch?”

Jade turned to see who was speaking to her. Zed, her coworker at the deli. Like Jade, Zed’s skin was a pale brown with a reddish undertone, and they both had straight, dark-brown hair. However, Jade’s eyes were a deep brown while Zed’s were a piercing green.

“Yeah. Have a seat.”

Zed looked at the ground next to Jade. “I, uh, don’t wanna sit on a grave.”

Jade laughed. “No problem, then. I didn’t invite you to sit on my lap.”

Zed sat next to her. “You’re okay with sitting on a grave?”

“I should be,” she said, “since I dug it with my own hands.”

Zed narrowed their eyes. “You’re telling me you buried your own ancestor?”

“No. I buried my dog here when I was nine.”

“But the gravesite that the builders built around….”

“Was where I buried my dog Howard.” Jade chuckled. “It’s not my mother’s fault that the builders didn’t bother to ask what was in the grave she marked on their map.”

“I always thought that Howard Mack was one of your relatives. Maybe a grandparent or something.” Zed chuckled. “That’s weird.”

“What?”

“When I thought it was a person buried here, it creeped me out. Now that I know it was your dog, it just…makes me sad.”

“It was almost twenty years ago.” Jade sighed. “You know what makes me sad, Zed?”

“What?”

Jade swept her arm in a broad gesture at the monument to commerce around them. “All of this. I used to spend my autumns here picking walnuts. For as long as I can remember.”

“But the land belonged—”

“To the village,” Jade finished. “We all picked here, mostly for our own use, but a few people started selling their share to other villages.”

Zed raised a finger. “Wait, I remember as a kid getting ‘Lake Village Walnuts’ in a net bag.”

 “That’s the ones.”

“You think they’ll change the name?” Zed asked.

“Of what?”

“Lake Village. I mean, it’s already got the population to be classed as a city.”

Jade shook her head. “Nah. It’s too good of a draw. People think they’re moving to someplace quaint and special, when it’s really just another exurb with no urban connection.”

“I just moved here a couple years ago, but it’s already gotten bigger since then. I can’t imagine how much change you’ve seen being born here.” Zed shook their head. “What happened?”

“Some corporation slithered into the garden, offered the council a shiny apple, and it’s all gone to hell from there.”

“Oh my god, Jade read a poem?”

“Shut up. You’re the one with the English Lit degree.” She nudged them. “I thought I’d put it in a framework you’d understand.”

“Lot of good my degree does here,” Zed said. “I wanted to be a teacher, but there’s not enough openings.”

“Maybe you should try to incorporate your degree into your day-to-day, see if helps any.”

Zed laughed. “Wouldst thou prefer mayonnaise or mustard, milord?”

“Yeah, class up the joint a bit.”

Zed pulled a blade of grass and began to roll it in their fingers. “Did you really read Milton, though? Or just the Cliff’s Notes?”

“Nah, I read it. A few times.” Jade sighed. “It’s bullshit, you know.”

“Well, yeah. It’s a retelling of a religious myth.”

“The myth is bullshit, though.”

Zed flicked the rolled blade of grass out to the middle of the tiny lawn. “That’s the thing about myths…they’re all fake.”

“It’s an excuse to make women second-class citizens,” Jade said. “The snake would’ve had a better chance of tempting Adam first, by telling him it would make him rich and irresistible to Eve.”

“Oooh, taking a stab at masculinity. Bold move.”

“Taking a stab at the patriarchy.”

“We’re past that now,” Zed said.

“Really? What’s your proof?”

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem to be big deal now. Hell, even the President of Earth is a woman.”

“Not good enough. I’ll state my points.” Jade turned to face Zed. “First, men still outnumber women in positions of corporate and political power. Second, for as long as women were on the village council, they turned down every offer to develop.

“Third, it was an all-male council that decided to sell off the village land to a developer, despite a vote to the contrary just a few months before. They claimed it was because the village needed to ‘grow up’ or something.

“Fourth, every one of those men from the council, despite being voted out for their actions, are now wealthy, and several of them now hold important positions in the corporations that settled in here.”

Zed put an arm around Jade’s shoulders. “That’s why you’re my favorite friend. You’re not afraid to paint yourself into a corner.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s assume that the snake tempted Adam first. Why would Eve follow? According to Milton, Adam followed because he couldn’t bear to be separated from Eve.”

“If anything, Adam probably made a bunch of promises about how he’d change and let her take the lead sometimes. I don’t know.” Jade snorted and exclaimed in a goofy voice, “I can change, Eve, I swear!”

Zed laughed. “You know what? It doesn’t matter which one bit the apple first.”

“Why?”

“Because it was just meant to enforce the cultural stereotypes. If the culture had been matriarchal, Adam would’ve been created from one of Eve’s ribs, and would’ve been the one tricked by the serpent.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I think what it comes down to is simple, human greed. It’s like me…no gender required.”

“Goof.” Jade leaned her head on Zed’s shoulder. “I miss the orchard.”