Sci-fi – Page 5 – Afterwards

Gettysberg – Room 101

The smell of blood and gunpowder mixed with the crack and fizz of musket balls filled Abel’s senses

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words only. I’m less strict about that now. They dont always finish, I just like to try and evoke a certain feeling or scene.

The smell of blood and gunpowder mixed with the crack and fizz of musket balls filled Abel’s senses. Cold steel met soft flesh and a young lad, no more than 18 years old, collapsed lifeless next to him – dark blood seeping into his grey uniform. His heart thundered like the endless roar of cannons trained on their position from the ridge and he took a drink from his canteen.

Looking over to where General Lee stood he reached for his revolver. It was time to end this war.

He raised his revolver but before he had chance to squeeze the trigger there was a flash of light and he found himself back on the table in the departure centre.

“Change of plans Abel” came a voice over the comms, “were going to let the war continue a bit longer.”

Future Perfect 2

The tour shuttle cruised slowly above what remained of New York City harbour and came to a halt and hovered, her anti-grav fusion engines little more than a feint hum.

Jay peered through the flap of his small grubby tent, once white but now a mottled mass of browns and blacks. The storm seemed to have passed and already the sky was filling with the thick acrid smoke of camp fires. He pushed through to the outside and looking about, the thick mud seeping over the top of his shoes.

“Where you going boy?” Snapped the old man from the tent opposite. “You better be careful out there”

He might only be 13 but he had seen enough to know how to look after himself. Mr Brabbin was harmless enough, he had lost his wife and three children to the plague so could be forgiven being grumpy.

“I will Mr B” He said reaching down and patting the lump in his pocket, checking it was still there. “I’ll bring you back something.”

“Good boy” Mr Brabbin mumbled climbing back inside his tent “just like my Jacob”. Jay watched him disappear and headed off across the camp towards the river without bothering to secure his own tent, it wasn’t like he had anything worth stealing.

Through rows and rows he walked, people emerging and getting back to what they spent most of their days doing, which was not a great deal. Dirty faced children milled about and the smells and noise of a million refugees filled the air. The food drops were due soon, which was the highlight of the day, but outside of that it was a pretty miserable hand to mouth existence they lived. Each week an envoy from New York would fly over and update them with the latest immigration status, and each week it was the same old story. New York was full.

Even from this far out he could see her in the distance, her hab-zones reaching high into the sky. They were so large they dwarfed the old skyline, huge structures of concrete and glass built to house those that were lucky enough to make it in before they stopped all movement in an out of the city.

He followed the line of tents until they lead him down towards the shoreline, the black waters of the harbour stretching out before him in the distance. He picked up a rock and threw it at a sign that warned that a one hundred metre wide stretch of land around the water’s edge had been mined. He winced as the rock ricocheted from the sign and rolled across the ground.

He climbed up onto an oil drum and reached into his pocket pulling out a ration pack, ‘Courtesy of the New York City State’ stencilled across the silver foil packaging. Sitting there watching the shuttles buzzing around the high towers of the city in the distance he bit off the corner and squeezed the contents into his mouth. Probably Banana but it was hard to tell.

As palls of smoke drifted from the camp out towards the water’s edge he watched the supply drones growing larger as they headed across the bay towards them, large spider like craft with their legs wrapped around the containers of food and water. They would drop their contents and then monitor the distribution from above, with any sign of unrest ensuring that perpetrators would soon discover that they were also heavily armed.

He craned his neck as they buzzed overhead, shouts and commotion from the camp filling his ears. He finished his ration pack and screwed the packaging into a ball and tossed it towards the warning sign and watched it fall to the ground into a pile of the discarded silver packages.

The sound of a patrol boat in the harbour caused him to look up and hurriedly he pulled a small notepad and pencil from a pocket and scribbled the time and a description of the boat. Leafing back through the tattered pages he noticed that it was running a minute late. Pretty unusual for automated craft he thought.

For a while Jay just sat, scribbling notes into his book and watching the shadows grow longer as the sun began to dip in the sky. It wouldn’t be long now.

Soon two men emerged from the tents heading towards the shore about forty metres away. It was the nightly ritual, a run for the city and a chance of a life away from the desperation, death and disease of the camp. Dressed in little more than rages, their faces gaunt and eyes sallow they moved slowly, the setting sun warm on their backs.

They paused at the edge of the restricted area and then, without speaking, set off towards the waters edge. Jay watched, his heart racing and the paper in his hand shaking as step by step they drew nearer and nearer to the waters edge. A step became five metres and five metres became ten.

He noticed one turn to the other and smile but in that moment there was an ear splitting thud and an explosion of dirt and fire and both men were thrown up into the air like rag dolls. Limbs torn from their bodies they didn’t even have time to scream before they came back to earth in a plume of smoke and falling debris. The taller of the two set off a second ear splitting explosion as he landed and he disappeared in a pink mist spread across the ground and reflected in the late evening sun.

As the smoke drifted away Jay uncovered his ears and flicked through the pages of his note book. On a small diagram of the shore front he marked the spot where they had triggered the mines. Their loss was his gain, and it had him one step closer to his own freedom…

Future Perfect 1

The tour shuttle cruised slowly above what remained of New York City harbour and came to a halt and hovered, her anti-grav fusion engines little more than a feint hum.

The tour shuttle cruised slowly above what remained of New York City harbour and came to a halt and hovered, her anti-grav fusion engines little more than a feint hum. The low winter sun glistened off of her silver sides and inside her passengers pressed themselves to the windows. To the east and out towards the Atlantic they could see the city lights were already burning brightly, 25 million people crammed into towering glass and concrete hab-zones. To the west the refugee tents stretched as far as the eye could see, fires burning and palls of acrid smoke twisting and writhing into the sky.

Caleb pulled on his father’s sleeve.

“Why don’t they move to city dad?” He asked pointing to the tents.

His father paused. “There just isn’t room son” he said looking away. “The city is full.”

“Full?” Caleb said confused “we have a spare bedroom? We have lots of bedrooms.”

“It’s just full son” he said putting a hand on his shoulder.

Caleb looked at his father and knew that it was best not to ask again. He was a patient man but some times you had to know when to stop asking questions.

“Where do they come from?” he asked.

“From the south” his father answered “they’re the ones that made it.”

Caleb knew about the South, his tutor had talked about it. “They’re the ones that survived the plague? ” he asked.

“They are yes, many died but it could have been much worse.”

Caleb sat upright, he knew about this too. “Tutor said that if it wasn’t for the great wall we would all have died, we’d have been over run.”

“Exactly” his father replied proudly, “if it wasn’t for the wall none of us would be here now…”

Moonstruck Repercussions – In the Dark 6

By the light of the silvery mooooooon

Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead. I did them all in December but was less successful in January. Let’s see how we do in February shall we.

You can see the prompts here.

Scratch howl and bark

lend ear and hark

Soul tortured by the moon

danger most stark

turned at the lark

Dark hunger sated soon

Feel burning mark

And so embark

to love and hope immune

journey most dark

new patriarch

And dance to hunger’s tune

Silly n Sexy – In the Dark 5

Imagine the scene if you will…

Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead. I did them all in December but was less successful in January. Let’s see how we do in February shall we. These pieces tend to be excerpts and flashes of something that could be.

You can see the prompts here.

The scene: A bench between A cherry blossom, petals falling gently on the late summer breeze as the sun sets and night Descends. Our couple find themselves alone and high on the intoxicating thrill of the first flushes of romance.

He: Go on, squeeze it. It’s okay.

She: Oh you are bad.

(Jumps as it honks. Giggling pushes hair behind her ear)

She: It really is rather big isn’t it.

He: If you think that’s big then wrap your eyes around this!

She: (gasps) Oh my. That’s so huge. What size is it? Is everything so big. (winks and giggles)

He: Oh yes, and this will make your eyes water I am sure. (raises one eyebrow)

She: (More gasps and slight squeal)

He: Oh my dear indeed, I am glad you approve.

She: May I touch it?

(Lights dim, stars come out. Awkward pause ensues)

She: Shrieks as it empties all over her face

He: Gotcha (loud laughter. Slaps thigh)

She: (Smiling) Oh you are terrible.

He: You’re all wet, here let me dry you. I should have warned you it has a hair trigger and goes off at the slightest touch.

She: Oh I love it, once it starts it just never stops coming.

He: (Blushing) I am indeed a man of many talents.

She: Any many handkerchiefs it seems. (Gasps and claps as he pulls handkerchiefs from his sleeve)

Scene closes as our the camera pans away, the circus tent in the background and fades to black.

Blushing Authenticity – In the Dark 4

What darkness lies in the hearts of men?

You can see the prompts here.

Simon punched snooze on his alarm and settled back onto his pillow.

“Just 5 minutes more” he mumbled to himself and closed his eyes. But as quickly as he had closed them they were suddenly wide open and he sat upright in bed. Today was the day that it would arrive.

He slipped from his bed, dragged on his clothes and headed downstairs to fired up his Laptop. He opened his Browser and logged onto the tracking company website.

Estimated time of Delivery 9am-11am

He grinned with excitement, grabbed the sales brochure and settled into his chair to wait. He flicked almost instinctively to the page for his model.

“Built of the finest cutting edge materials the M7 is designed to provide the most realistic and sensuous experience in synthetic partnerships. With 18 points of pivot and flex and a full range of customisation features this is industry leading technology at a price as certain to please in the pocket as it is in the bedroom”

He had saved every penny he could scrape together, working double shifts and picking up extra work on weekends. Even once he had the money finding a supplier that could produce everything that he wanted wasn’t easy but through an online group he had eventually found someone who could give him just what he needed.

He flicked through the brochure again. He’d been alone for so long now, this was was going to take some adjustment.

“Created to cater for both your physical and emotional needs your synthetic partner will be fine tuned to your personality and desires and our 100 point real time compatibility matrix ensures that even when you don’t know what you need your SP does.”

A sudden knock at the door caused him to jump and he sprang to his feet. It was 9:25. He opened the heavy metal door and a tall man handed him a small electronic tablet. “Sign please” he said without looking up. Simon really didn’t care how rude he was and ran his thumb over the screen and a light pinged green. The courier mumbled a thanks and turned away leaving a large plainly wrapped box behind.

Simon hurriedly carried it inside and placed it on the table in the small kitchenette. His pulse was racing. He took a small knife and carefully cut along the seam down the middle of the box and then peeled the halves open. Nestled in the packaging was a card which he took out.

On behalf of SP Industries we thank you for your customer and we are certain that you will be 100% happy with your purchase. All you need to do to initiate your SP is to place your thumb on the reader plate on the bottom of the left foot. We would though ask that you verify that you are in receipt of the model you ordered, detailed on the back of this card, before initiation as refunds cannot be accepted once initiated.

Simon flicked the card over and smiled.

MODEL/M7 Synthetic Partner/Red Hair/Green Eyes/Age 7

Echoes of Mars – Room 101

“You see that girl” he said looking over at a canary is a small cage on a dresser next to the window. “you see those vapour trails? That was me once.”

Amos sat in the old rocker looking out across the open fields in front of the farm house. He watched wisps of clouds dancing across the sky and jet trails slowly dissolving into the blue and remembered a time, long ago now, when he was more than the frail old man now living out the last of his days watching the seasons pass from his window. Snippets of another life he was no longer sure were even his.

“You see that girl” he said looking over at a canary is a small cage on a dresser next to the window. “you see those vapour trails? That was me once.”

The small yellow bird cheeped almost as if in response.

His eyes weren’t what they once were but he could still make out the feint outline of the city in the distance and he watched as shuttles, from this distance mere specks, took off and headed upwards towards the east pacific low orbit station.

There was a flash of silver as the sun caught the side of a large long haul transporter rising slowly upwards and he remembered, not at all fondly, the early days long before anti-grav when they had to strap you to a rocket just to get you into orbit.

He didn’t miss the take offs but he each landing was fresh in his mind as the day he had made them

“Good times” he mumbled to himself rolling a small red rock no larger than a thumbnail between his fingers, a memento of his last trip to Mars smuggled home and his most prized possession. He rocked slowly and pulled a blanket over his knees. He looked at it and his eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face. He had kept it locked away for decades but today, today he wanted to hold it. It was softer to the touch than he remembered, perhaps from being kept in the old cigarette tin in the dresser.

“I went there you know” he told his canary. He had told her uncountable times but he didn’t know that, not anymore. His once sharp mind was now a lottery when it came to the things he remembered and the things he did not. “I saw sunrise over the Martian planes, before we stopped going there and trust me, it was a sight to behold. Miles of red, like a sea of blood stretched out before us.”

The canary cheeped and cleaned her feathers, then hopped down to the bottom of the cage.

“Oh yes” he continued proudly, fragments of past glories now darting about his mind. “I was a real American hero indeed.”

The canary chirped again, and then for a second time as Amos suddenly stiffened, a look of pain etched across his face. His right arm reached for his chest and the small rock fell from his hand. Amos gasped as the bird continued to chirp loudly, now in full cardiac arrest. Hands clenched into fists the life ebbed slowly from his body as his eyes glazed over and with a final gasp Amos McCartney drifted into nothing.

And with that final, his body now relaxed the chair rocked forward crushing the small rock fragment, red dust smeared on the carpet beneath the runner of the old rocking chair. The canary chirped wildly, hopping up to the small wooden perch and then back to the cage floor but there was nobody to hear it or heed it’s warnings.

Slowly, spreading out from the spot under the chair a red stain began to creep. It first engulfed the chair and Amos, turning them a dark ochre red and, moments later, the wood and flesh and plaid blanket on his knees suddenly collapsed into dust. The canary chirped wildly, flying around the small cage panicked.

Outwards it then began to spread and in a moment the chirps of the canary were silenced…

Departmental Duties 2 – Room 101

PART 2

Jeremiah stepped out into the night pulling his coat collar around his ears as the rain continued to fall, iridescent pools forming across the open paved area in front of the building that lead to the cross town zip. The Immigration centre was in the heart of the market district, a leftover from decades before when this was part of a vibrant business area hosting head offices of banks and financial institutions from across the planet. Now it was very much a sea of stalls, food vendors and a pulsating night live that catered for the most basic tastes and cravings for creatures from across all four systems. High rises had been converted for accommodation and the suits were mostly long gone.

The main road through the area was a sea of neon painted against the wall of converted hab-blocks towering high into the grey skies above. Across from the immigration building, illuminated only by the crack and fizz of the day glow signs, he could make out the silhouettes of a tall Carillion and a small group of Thracians.

“What a joke” he mumbled to himself. Earth had welcomed them, gave them refuge and saved them from the ravages of their own worlds, but now they had taken over huge swathes of the city and people like him – humans, born of Earth – were an endangered species in some parts.

“Hey handsome” came a voice from the shadows as he crossed towards the Zip station. “You been working late? You looking for something special?”

Jeremiah turned towards the source of the voice. It was a Carillion. Humanoid in basic form but standing 8 foot tall with bright blue scaled skin they were quite something. Her voice rolled with an enticing melody. It was almost a song and Jeremiah paused for a moment.

“No, no I don’t.” He answered sharply. “I have a wife.”

She sensed reservation in his voice. She know his type. Hated them and their kind but couldn’t resist the lure of something exotic. “You sure baby” she answered smiling. She motioned towards a door lit by a single white light. “My home is your home.”

Jeremiah walked slowly over. There was a reason the Carillions were so popular, he’d heard the men in the office talking about them. “Show me” he said, a snarl on his face

She placed a hand on the side of his head. “Close your eyes baby”.

Jeremiah obeyed and in a moment he felt her inside his head, images of writhing flesh and darkest desires flooding his senses. He could taste her on his tongue. He could feel her long slender fingers on his skin.

“Stop” he shouted opening his eyes grabbing her arm.

She smiled at him and lowered her arm. “It’s okay baby I understand, I’ve seen your thoughts. I know how you feel about us. It’s okay”

He released her arm and stood staring up at her. He wanted it. He wanted her. He had a thousand reasons to head home but right now all he could think of was the thoughts she’d put in his head.

“How much?” he asked.

She reached for his hand and opened the door. “A hundred and fifty Credits for everything.”

He reached into his pocket and checked his wallet.

“I have one request” he said putting it back into his pocket.

“Yes baby of course, whatever you desire” she answered leading him through the door and up a small flight of stairs.

His mouth dry and pulse racing he followed her into a small room. There were threadbare carpets on the floor and a bed along one wall. On the opposite side of the room was a screen draped with a silk gown. The walls were bare save for a long mirror and a crucifix above the sink in the corner.

Jeremiah reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet and paid her. He then took out his phone and sent a message to his wife telling her he would be home late and put it back away.

He looked up at her as she caressed his face.

“So what was that request you had then“ she asked, her voice filling his head.

He paused. He hated himself. “I want you to hurt me…”

Departmental Duties 1 – Room 101

“Carillions are awful at paperwork” he said to himself opening the file on the clan connections. That was it. That’s what felt wrong, this application just looked too good. “What are you hiding buddy?”

Jeremiah pushed his chair back, puffed out his cheeks and put his hands behind his head. Just this case to finish and then he would head out for something to eat and then go home. He sighed and looked out across the ofice and noticed he was alone, the three long rows of pods long emptied for the day. As usual he was first in and last out.

“No wonder the detention centres are full” he mumbled to himself.

He scanned the data on the holo-screen before him. Everything looked okay on the surface but something about the case made him uneasy. There were no outstanding warrants or red flags from across any of the four known systems, he had clan already settled on the east coast and his paperwork was faultless. He hadn’t even had any run ins in the centre which was rare for his type.

He chewed on a pen as he went through every page of the settlement application, but he couldn’t find anything solid.

Like so many Carillions he had found his way to earth after fleeing his home to escape the persecution of the Tardaron Federation, and whilst the central Earth Government wanted to help they’d been swamped in the three years following first contact so had brought in tight regulations to ensure the other systems weren’t just shipping their problems to Earth.

Now didn’t care for either race particularly but the Carillions had provided the earth government with some pretty serious military tech so for now they were the good guys.

Jeremiah sighed. As much as he wanted to reject the case he couldn’t find anything. He tossed the pen across he desk, pressed the ‘Authorise’ button and shut it down.

“Alexa, what time is it” he asked rubbing his eyes.

“The time is Eight thirty five” came the response.

Jeremiah got up from his chair, pushed it back under his desk and headed for the door. There would be more to process tomorrow, he’d meet his rejection quota then.

A last goodnight – Room 101

The old porch swing creaked as Cal pushed slowly back and forth, the evening breeze cool against his skin and the smell of bougainvillea thick in the air.

The old porch swing creaked as Cal pushed slowly back and forth, the evening breeze cool against his skin and the smell of bougainvillea thick in the air. Sam sat with him, saying nothing, simply staring up into the sky where the huge fireball seemed to hang like a balloon on the wind. After a while he shifted in his seat and spoke.

“How long until it get’s here dad?” He asked.

Cal placed his hand on Sam’s arm. He was a great kid with so much of his life still to be lived. He deserved better than this.

“They say tomorrow will be our last.” Cal answered calmly. He thought to himself that he probably should have lied but Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew what was coming, he’d seen the news.

“So why couldn’t they stop it?” He asked.

“We did everything we could son” he answered putting his arm around his shoulder and pulling him close. “But it was too big, too fast, and we just saw it too late.”

Sam pointed at the sky. “It looks like another sun doesn’t it” he said quite calmly.

“Uh huh. I guess so” Cal answered.

Sam lowered his arm and sat up straight on the edge of the bench. He shuffled where he sat, looking uncomfortable.

“Did we deserve to die?” He asked “because Jenny Wilkes at the store said this was happening because we’re all evil.”

“Sam no, god no” Cal answered sitting upright next to him. “We’re just in it’s path son, it’s nothing we’ve done.”

Sam seemed happy with the answer. “I’m not scared you know” he said turning to look at his father. “I’ve had a good life.”

Cal choked up. He didn’t know what to say. Here he was wanting to scream and shout about how unfair it all was and his son goes and says that.

“Do you think I would have had a wife one day?” Sam continued.

“Oh Sam” Cal exclaimed fighting back tears. “I’m quite sure you would have yes. Definitely yes.”

“Do you think she would have been like mum?”

“I’m sure she would have been just as wonderful as your mum son, without a doubt.” Cal answered, tears streaming down his face. Sam wasn’t really old enough to remember her but every night he would ask and Cal would tell him all about her. “She would have been so proud of you, you know that right.”

Sam stood from the bench and turned to face his father.

“I know dad” he said smiling and reached out a hand. “Let’s go watch a movie, I think that would be a good way to spend the night. Then tomorrow we will see mum again.”

Beyond the stars – Room 101

Children for sale, get your fresh children here!

Cal opened his eyes slowly, his head pounding and a searing pain in his chest. As his senses returned he found himself looking out into the darkness of space, the earth drifting far in the distance. He was in one of the SS Brunel’s escape pods, he had done enough inspections of them in his time so that he knew. What he didn’t know was how he’d got there.

He reached for his chest and winced. There was blood and scorch marks on his tunic and he could smell med-plas. Someone had patched him up but no matter how hard he tried he had no idea who.

He stabbed a finger at the console in front of him but it was completely dead with the exception of a single blinking red light and a small dial with an indicator reading ten percent.

“Well I have life support” he said to himself tapping the gauge. “For now at least.”

He pulled at the manual ignition lever above his head in an attempt to force a reboot of the pod but there was just a dull click. A few more pumps resulted in the same result and he pushed the lever back into its housing. If he couldn’t get the pod back online this was going to be a very short trip.

“Come on baby” he said willing her back into life and shifting uncomfortably in his chair to reach for a panel to his left. He pulled open a small hatch to reveal the distress beacon which should have been blinking, but wasn’t.

He ran his hands through his hair and cursed. No power, no distress beacon and life support now less than ten percent.

By his reckoning he had maybe an hour before oxygen levels dropped to critical.

Mountains must move – Room 101

Maybe a beginning but little more…

Let’s do one of M’s prompts.

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. They dont always finish, they don’t always have a start. I just like to try and evoke a certain feeling or paint a single scene. Originally they were always 101 words but not worrying too much about word count at the moment.

Even now after all these years Cal could still recall the day everything changed. It was hard to forget.

Quite clearly he still remembered the panic in his chest hearing his mother calling his name frantically as he rode his bicycle through the tall grass in front of the farm house. He knew that this was no time to hide, no time for games.

He hadn’t made it back to her before the skies started to darken, and after abandoning his bicycle and setting off at a sprint he saw a look of fear on her face that would never leave him. As they raced inside the house the sky seemed to explode, crimsons and oranges painted horizon to horizon and a deafening roar cut through the air, shaking the house to its foundations.

“What is it Mom” he had asked her, “what’s happened.”

Se said she didn’t knew but that they needed to hide and get to the bunker. He didn’t believe her then but looking back he understood why she had lied to him.

He would have done the same because the lie was better than the truth. It was a truth very few of them would survive.

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Sea of Chardonnay – Room 101

Children for sale, get your fresh children here!

Let’s do one of M’s prompts. Rusty Bearings.

Ada and Sol stood hand in hand and waited. Before them golden waters stretched away into the distance, the sun dancing across the surface of the lake. Behind them long grass on rolling hills swayed in the spring breeze generated by the bio-hab.”

“I’ll miss the moon” Sol said, a tremor in his voice. “Nurse says this is what the Earth used to be like.”

Ada felt the grass between her toes. She would miss it too. This was home, all she had ever known.

Nervously they watched the shuttle skim across the surface of the water towards them. A long white cylinder with small dark windows along each side it caused the water below to ripple as it eased slowly to a halt on the waters edge.

“I want you on your best behaviour” a man’s gruff voice barked from behind them. “These people have paid good money and they expect only the best do you understand.”

A small hatch opened in the underside of the craft and a ramp descended slowly. They held their breath as around twenty terrans spilled out onto the grass. Ada felt sol squeeze her hand and she squeezed back reassuringly. She had always been the strong one.

A small blonde haired boy stood a few metres from Ada started to cry. “I don’t want to go to earth “ he sobbed. “I want to stay here.”

Ada turned to him and flashed him a smile and nodded. “It’s okay” she mouthed.

“You’ll do as we say” the gruff voiced man said sharply “you cant get kids of your quality back on Earth. These people pay top money, now smile.”

Rusty Bearings – Room 101

a quick something and nothing.

Let’s do one of M’s prompts. Rusty Bearings.

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. They dont always finish, I just like to try and evoke a certain feeling or scene.

Cal stood on the repair deck of the SS Los Angeles looking out into the inky expanse of space and wiped at the grease on his hands with an old red rag. He loved rest days when he could just potter around the repair deck and have time to think.

He braced himself as he felt the rumble of the high orbit burners beneath his feet and the ship manoeuvred slowly around until the earth drifted into view.

“Wow” he said to himself shaking his head. The old girl didn’t look well.

From high above large swathes of once green land were now barren and ocean’s once blue and teaming with life were now darkened with the toxic remnants of the third and fourth great wars.

He placed the rag into his overall pocket as the ships com gave a single beep and crackled into life.

”This is captain Armitage.” He sounded tired. Eight years in charge of a destroyer will do that to you Cal thought to himself. “It is with great sadness that I can confirm that Central Command have today confirmed that the SS Trump has been lost over Mars. Survivors are not expected. God bless her crew and God bless America.” The Comms beeped again and there was silence.

Cal grimaced. That was four destroyers in the last month alone. They were losing this war.

Sandpaper and Sinkholes – Room 101

Jay tapped refresh on his screen and waited anxiously for the numbers to appear.

Let’s do one of M’s prompts. ‘Pinches of positivity’.

Jay tapped refresh on his screen and waited anxiously for the numbers to appear.

“Looking nervous bro” Mo said watching him from across the room, a broad smile on his face and his brown eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Whatever” Jay answered as the numbers flashed on the screen.

“What you got then?” Mo pressed getting out of his chair and walking across to try and take a look at the screen. “How many do you have?”

Jay pulled away and pushed the device inside his robe. “2.4. Still plenty more that you” he snapped.

“Ah but it isn’t just about numbers, it’s also about quality Jay.”

Mo reached into a pocket and pulled out his own device and thrust it towards Jay. Initially reluctant he took it and scanned over the stats blinking across the screen.

“1.6 with pretty high dedication scores I will admit” he said sullenly and handed it back. “I still beat you on wealth and influence categories too though.”

“For now” Mo said still smiling. “You’ve seen my predictions for the next 80 years right? Dad thinks I’ve a real chance of catching you, especially now my mortality rates are dropping and you have your European problem to deal with.”

Jay really did find him so annoying at times.

“I have no idea why you’re grinning so much” Jay replied angrily, “Vish has nearly as many as you do and his dedication scores are nearly as high as yours. Vish what you got mate?”

Both men turned to where a third man was sitting on a small wicker chair surrounded by piles of books and papers.

“Don’t involve me in this “ he shouted back and pulled on a pair of headphones “I want nothing to do with this I am quite happy with what I have. I’m sitting this out for now thanks.”

Mo laughed and folded his arms defiantly. “You know I will get his eventually don’t you, there’s just no way you’ll ever get them. Say what you want, his dedication scores are on the slide almost as badly as yours.”

Jay balled each of his hands into a fist. He really wanted more than anything to punch him in the mouth. He was so abrasive when in one of these moods. Always so desperate to get ahead.

“You know what Mo” Jay said walking closer, chest puffed out. “Maybe it’s time we took this to the next level. Maybe it’s time I put you in your place.”

“Oh and how are you going to do that then?” he asked pushing back. “You got some secret weapon? You played the evangelist card in the eighties, you got nothing left. They were all discredited. You’re bluffing. Best you can do is damage control.”

Jay hesitated for a moment, smiled and then took a step back. He reached back inside his robe for his device and stabbed at the screen. He smiled and slowly turned the screen in his hand and held it outwards towards his brother.

Mo looked confused. “You’re playing a Donald? What the hell is a Donald?”

Pinches of positivity – Room 101

Seems this is my 500th post…

Well this is my 500th post. Not sure how that happened, I was only really popping in to see what this blogging lark was about. Oh well, better write something deep and meaningful. Let’s do one of M’s prompts. ‘Pinches of positivity’.

Lying strapped to the bed Malcolm looked around the room. Harsh chrome spots reflected on the cold white walls and floor and a single door at the end of the room seemed to be the only way in or out.

He struggled against the wrist and ankle straps but there was no give.

A woman’s voice crackled into life over a speaker, .it was calm and smooth like liquid sugar

“All things are good” it said slowly. “All things are good.”

Malcolm instinctively tried to ignore the voice but it resonated deep within his mind and filled his senses.

“Everything will work out.” it continued as the words bounced around his head and filled him with calm. The room drifted into nothing as he closed his eyes.

“This is all you need and you need nothing more.” iIt said and Malcolm began to mumble the words phrase after phrase.

“This is where you belong and what you need.” The words left his mouth almost synchronised with voice from the speaker. He felt warm and safe.

“Everything is fine”

Phrase after phrase flowed into and over him, repeated word for word as he slowly passed into sleep, the words of comfort still dripping from his lips.

As the speaker crackled into silence two orderlies emerged from the door at the end of the room and wheeled his bed back out towards the exit.

“Think he’s nearly?” a barrel chested man asked. His colleague pulled the door closed behind them.

“Just a couple more sessions and he will be ready for his wedding.”

Perfectly Imperfect – Room 101

Trash cans spilled over, their contents whipped into the sky as the air fizzed and crackled.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. 101 words allowed only. I know I said I was done with them. I lie. Probably should have wrote this in October but hey ho, better late than never. Think it works rather well as an idea given the prompt.

Joseph stood before the mirror, the face staring back a contorted mockery of his former self. He tried to smile and he raised a trembling hand to his face, slowly running his fingers along the scars.

He still remembered the pain as the fire tore through his flesh, the smell as it cooked and melted his face filling his nostrils until they too succumbed to the heat.

He turned away unable to look any more, he was too grotesque and the memories too painful.

Grabbing his coat he headed outside, at least it was Halloween and he didn’t need a mask.

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Lens

Joseph was too young to remember what had happened himself, and those left behind never seemed to want to speak of it. All he needed to know was that it was over, they had won, and they needed to rebuild.

I wrote this for a photo challenge, but I misread and its a week early I think. I will link to it when it’s time 🙂

Joseph adjusted the focus on the telescope ever so slightly as he made himself comfortable in the large battered red leather wing back chair. He looked briefly through the eyepiece then pulled a small red cloth from his pocket and carefully wiped the lens. Clear nights were still such a rarity and even though the war had ended ten years ago the remains of the destruction still hung in the air as a reminder, obscuring sun and moon alike.

In recent years, with the skies occasionally opening up to reveal their hidden treasures, he would head up to the old ruined house on the hill across the valley, and dragging the telescope he had salvaged in one of the endless destroyed homes he would clamber over what was left of the stairs to the top floor. Where once there had been bedrooms now only weather beaten and rotting floor boards remained, and where there had once been a roof now there was only sky.

It had taken some effort to get the chair from the library up to the top floor but when the grey occasionally peeled back it was well worth it.

“You be careful up there” his Aunt would always tell him, and he would always tell here that there was nothing to be worried about because the war was over, they’d won, and the visitors were long gone. She remembered the war better than he did though, and he would often lie awake at night and hear he tossing and turning in her sleep– reliving the horror that had resulted in nearly 6 billion dead.

He knew that they had been invaded, that they had fought valiantly and that countless numbers had been lost on both sides. He also knew that when the United Governments detonated the nova bombs at the heart of the visitors fleet in a last desperate stand they not only wiped out the entire visitor command and control network but they vaporised much of the southern hemisphere.

Right now though all he really wanted to think about was the moon. He loved the stars, they filled him with hope and excitement but it was the moon that stirred his soul. Another rock, drifting through space and so very close, you could almost touch it. His Aunt had told him how people had once lived there, before the war and he would often imagine himself up there, looking down on earth.

As darkness fell he sat back in the chair and pulled an apple from his pocket. It wasn’t much but it would have to do as dinner thought. He wasn’t hungry really, he was too excited.

As the sky turned dark, the stars poking through the inky blackness the Moon began it’s journey across the sky. His heart leapt as he realised it was full. He put his eye to the viewer and focussed and it grew large and clear.

He watched it travel across the sky, adjusting occasionally to ensure it stayed clear and in focus. He sat quite still as he traced the lines across it’s grey surface and each new meteor crater filled him with excitement and he hastily scribbled notes with a stub of a pencil on scraps of paper he unfolded from his shirt pocket.

As he studied the surface he thought, for just a moment, that he noticed a flash of movement. He finished the last of the apple, wiped the lens again, and refocussed.

“Probably just something on the lens” he thought, but it was no mistake and there was something in the top quadrant of his view. He adjusted again, pulling back in an attempt to focus on the object. As the dark blur became clear he could make out something angular, something man made. He was too close still, and again he adjusted, whatever it was was closer that the moon.

Joseph squeezed his eye to the viewer, heart racing. It was unmistakable. Moving through space, back lit by the moon, were a small fleet of ships circling a larger vessel. They were back.

The end of times

J pulled his bedding up around his ears and refused to get out of bed. “No” he insisted, only his eyes showing above the blanket “tell dad that I’m unwell or something but I just can’t face it today.”

Mo scratched his head and laughed “Bro, he will kill you you can’t miss this” he said “it’s the end of days – it’s a big deal.” He tugged at the edge of the blanket, “come on, seriously, he will go mad.”

J resisted but knew it was pointless, dad always got his way. “What am I even supposed to wear?” he snapped, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. “Has he said what he wants me to wear?”

Mo smiled and threw him a robe. “Same as usual J, you know that now stop being such a baby. Anyway, it might be fun, he has all sorts of crazy stuff planned.”

“Probably better than giving cancer to babies I suppose” he snapped, “that gets a bit old after a while? ”

“Come on, we’re going to be late” Mo said pulling back the blankets from the bed.

“Fine, fine” J said getting out of bed and pulling on his robe. He ran his fingers through his long dark hair and took a drink from a small cup next to his bed. “So is he sticking to the stuff they’re expecting or does he have something else planned?”

“Mostly the same” Mo replied, “But he has managed to rope Lucifer and some of his mates in for some sort of big finale.”

“Oh super” J replied, “they’re a right bunch of arses, why are they involved?”

“Dad reckons that he needs to shake things up a bit and get them back in line” Mo said “apparently they’re getting a bit too unruly and there are way too many of them they’re really screwing things up.”

J adjusted his robes and pulled his belt tight. “What has he got planned for you?” he asked.

“Same as usual mate” he said “mostly whole sale irrational panic and paranoia and he wants me to be in charge of plagues.”

“Plagues, no way man I always get plagues why has he given you those?”

Mo headed towards the door. “Apparently he wants you on apparitions” he said, he knew how much J loved plagues.

“i tell you what” J said, visibly angry “i bloody hate apparitions and visitations – all those good looking women and all I get to do is terrify them. Have you seen me?” he asked holding out his hands, “I have awesome hair you have to admit. I should be getting so many of them but no, dad reckons we shouldn’t mix”.

“Hey, I hate this as much as you do you know that” Mo said calmly, “we both know this whole thing was a huge mistake that got out of hand but we had to control them somehow.”

J sighed, he knew it was their job but sometimes he wished it was just a bit more interesting. “I just can’t wait until it’s all over and we can get rid of them and just bring the family down.”

Mo placed a hand on J’s shoulder. “Not long now mate” he said reassuringly, “and until then let’s just try enjoy it eh – apparently he has something lined up with that Donald chap and the pudgy faced lad, said it will be a right laugh”

For more of this sort of thing you can take a look here

Footprints – An AFA Challenge

Fences – FFfAW Challenge – 11th of July

I don’t have a dog called Caper – Daily prompt

Photo courtesy of intographics @ pixabay

One Word Photo Challenge: Hummingbird – Part 1

“Sorry sir” Henderson replied “but we drop out of FTL and go radio silent and now we’re locked in orbit at four times the usual distance instead of heading home. That’s not protocol.”

This was written in response to the one word photo challenge which I rather enjoy, and details can be found at the link below. This week I had to use the word “hummingbird” as inspiration. It had me thinking of thinking of things of a geostationary nature…

One Word Photo Challenge

In the cold of space, 80000 Miles above the Kazakh steppes the Hummingbird emerged from Faster-Than-Light and Captain Jenkins ordered it be placed into geostationary orbit. Shortly after a call went out across the ship-com for the vessels four most senior officers to come to the captain’s quarters.

“Gentlemen” Jenkins began, “take a seat please”.

The three men pulled up chairs around the table. Henderson, the Chief Engineer, waited for Jenkins to be seated before speaking.

“What’s happened sir?” he asked.

“What makes you think something happened Henderson” the Captain asked sharply.

“Sorry sir” Henderson replied “but we drop out of FTL and go radio silent and now we’re locked in orbit at four times the usual distance instead of heading home. That’s not protocol.”

Jenkins took a deep breath. “About 30 minutes ago, on approach to FTL drop out point, I received an encoded fragment of a sub-light notification warning us to stay away from Earth. Sub-light then went offline.” H paused before continuing. “When we came out of FTL I initiated a comms freeze override and engaged full shielding.”

Coles took off his hat and placed it on the table. “And we know nothing more Sir?” He was the eldest of his senior officers and a damned good Chief Navigator and the best Comms officer in the fleet.

Jenkins stood and began to pace, he didn’t think as well when he was sat down. “Not a thing Charles. I wanted to brief you all before we start full scans.”

“Sir, if I may” Coles interjected.

“Go ahead.”

“We’re ready to go Sir, we can initiate fulls scans as soon as you give the word.” he stood as if to leave.

“I need to know if we are visible” Jenkins asked calmly, still pacing. “I need to ensure that should we take down the shields to run scans we maintain minimal risk of exposure.”

Coles put his hat back on and straightened it. “Sir, From this distance we are pretty much undetectable with shields up. We will need to reduce shield strength to half to initiate full diagnostics but even with reduced shields we should be hidden from anything but a targeted scan”

Jenkins stopped pacing.

“Okay, let’s do it. Initiate full planetary scan.” he continued, turning to Henderson and Carter, who had sat silently throughout . “Gentlemen, all hands on deck please. We have no idea what is going on down there.”

Both men replied in unison standing. “Yes Sir.”

As the three men headed for the door Jenkins called over to Carter. “Let’s bring the rail guns online Master Chief” he instructed. “I don’t want to get caught cold”

“Yes Sir” Carter replied and exited after the others.

Jenkins followed his officers and headed to the bridge. He wasn’t prone to panic or overreaction, but something felt wrong. “Officers never run” he told himself as he settled into his chair, three large screens in front of him.

“Coles” he shouted out across the deck, “drop shields to 50% and initiate full Earth side scans please. And pinpoint the fleet for me will you.”

“Sir, yes sir” came a prompt reply.

Jenkins waited a few moments before the first results started to be returned. His screens lit up and a cascade of information began to filter through.

“Jesus Christ” he exclaimed as the information began to pour through. “Coles, are you getting this?” he shouted.

“I am sir” came Coles’ response. There was a note in his voice that made Jenkins uneasy. “I’ve validated outputs and there are no errors.”

“Shields back to 100%” Jenkins ordered sharply. “Henderson, take us out to 160 thousand miles full speed.”

“Yes Sir!” came a response “One hundred and sixty thousand. Initiating sub light engines.”

Coles walked across to the captain, his face ashen and spoke quietly “Sir, there are no mistakes – those transponder results are unmistakable – that is the entire fleet in pieces down there with zero signs of life.”

Fancy something similar? Try this, or this…

Photo courtesy of Stevebidmead @ Pixabay

Not a piece about Dr Who – Honest – Sunday Photo Fiction.

Actually, had Diane Abbott been cast as the Doctor I may actually have taken side with the crazies…

It’s hard to resist anything other than something Dr Who based on this.

I could write about how Tom Baker, Doctor of my childhood, remains my favourite though I will not because those memories seem far off these days.

I could also write about the ludicrous furore over the recently announced Doctor having a vagina. The fact that he has two hearts and travels through time seems far more palatable to many than the idea of someone with a uterus holding the keys to the T.A.R.D.I.S.

God forbid it had been a black woman, can you imagine the outcry. Trump and Brexit we can handle but surely not that.

Actually, had Diane Abbott been cast as the Doctor I may actually have taken side with the crazies. Her vagina is not something on which I wish to dwell. Jeremy Corbyn may however wish to differ.

I could also write about the shambles that was Christopher Ecclestone but the less said about that the better. Tosser.

Instead of writing I will just enjoy the memories I have of one of the greatest creative works to come out of this country and wait for next week’s challenge.

195 Words

Rehash Saturday

I’ve been doing this for about a month now, and there are some posts from the first few days which have not really been seen by anyone. Now and again I think I shall share a few.

This one was one of the first ones I did in response to the daily prompt.

I loved writing this one – it was pointless and headed nowhere but I really enjoyed not having to have an ending or a beginning. Just a middle…

Michael

More? Try this or this…

Photo courtesy of pixabay

End of days #writephoto challenge

Of life and death

Maleban the Elder stands alone, the last of his kind, remnant of all that was but that is no more. His people are all gone now, returned to dust, and the final fiery moments of this world are his alone to witness.

A slow ascent into a hungry sun is his fate, and as proud custodian of the memories of a once glorious people he stands and calls upon his ancestors, the long forgotten ways of his people and the gods of old.

Eyes closed and arms wide he embraces the end of all days as lifetimes past, present and future disappear and are lost to the universe forever.

Photo courtesy of Sue Vincent

Want something different? THIS is different and THIS is way different. This is …well you probably shound’t read THIS…

The continuing exploration of my fascination with alien probing

Malan eased the sleek silver craft to the ground, ion drives humming quietly and three silver legs sliding out slowly to cushion the ships gradual descent.

“This looks as good a place as any” said Malan as the craft settled snugly into a clearing in the middle of a large wooded expanse. His voice was full of excitement as a green light on the panel lit up to indicate that recharging had commenced and a second blinked to indicate that there were no locals within a 1 quillet radius.

“We’re here dear” he grinned “shall I put the kettle on and we can get straight to it?”

His clan mate ran a clawed hand through thick blue fur and grunted approvingly.

“make sure the system’s are running on low power” she bristled, her thick tail swishing impatiently “we need to keep usage low until we’ve recharged enough to make the next leg.”

Their unplanned detour to this awful blue and green galactic backwater was made only slightly more pleasant by the promise of the opportunity to do some probing, something she took great delight in.

“How many did you pick up for me?” Zarb asked curtly.

“Just the one” Malan said eagerly, “there seem to be rather a lot of them so he won’t be missed for a few hours I’m sure. ”

“They all looked like pests to me!” she snapped. “Hardly worth our time I’d imagine”

He was lucky to have her he reminded himself – the benefits of a wealthy family – and she was a quite magnificent specimen when she was vexed. Standing tall she was half again as large as he, her glossy fur thick and blue and a quite magnificent tail that made him want to do nothing more than please her.

Zarb punched away at a small hand held console. “According to this there are already a number of recorded instances of probing across a number of the species on the planet” she said curtly “I guess we won’t be getting any ‘first finder’ recognition! Records seem to indicate a mostly primitive society.”

Malan brought her over a steaming cup of tea, the writhing thrubar tentacles curling around the lip of the mug made her purr with delight as she slurped them into her sharply toothed mouth. “Right, let’s meet our visitors shall we” she said almost smiling.

Malan coughed nervously.

“What?” she snapped.

“He does seem rather annoying”

“Annoying? What do you mean annoying?”

“Well, just a little backwards and he really will not shut up”

“What do you expect” Zarb snarled, “an unpleasant rock such as this is hardly going to be the most intriguing of places is it. I’d be surprised if we were able to learn a single thing of interest from him.”

“I suppose” Malan replied, suddenly feeling deflated. “I just wanted it to be fun you know – special – it’s been a while since we’ve done this together.” Despite her frightful temper he really did admire her and as clan mate’s went she was the envy of many of his colleagues and friends.

“Perhaps just turn your translator off” Malan suggested, “we can still have fun without listening.”

“Hush will you!” she snapped. “Let’s just see what we have shall we.” Zarb put aside her tea and pushed past him and headed to the medical bay.

The first thing she noticed about the earthling was just how small he was. Small and pink. He seemed to have a light covering of fur in a few places but mostly he displayed a rather repulsive amount of flesh. “How revolting!” she said scornfully as Malan followed closely behind her.

Upon hearing her voice the creature turned his head towards her and started shouting something, his eyes wide. Zarb had no idea what he was saying but she thought she would at least entertain it for a while, he might actually turn out to be interesting.

She walked across to a small panel and with a curled claw punched a sequence into a keypad. With a crackle she began to hear the previously unintelligible ramblings translated as he spoke them.

“…You will be purged ..something something…” the translator was struggling a little.

“Animated fellow isn’t he” Zarb remarked, picking up a large probe from the array of tools at the end of the silver bench to which he was strapped.

“…and fire and death will descend upon you…” he continued, his eyes bulging wide as she walked towards him smiling.

“Fire and death eh” Zarb smiled menacingly “I think I may keep him awake for this you know Malan.”

Malan congratulated himself on bringing such pleasure to his clan mate as the creature continued to rage and thrash.

“…and you will be destroyed and you will submit to the… something …will of the most something…Alan Akbar!”

“Alan Akbar” Zarb remarked, “you ever heard of an Alan Akbar, Malan” she asked, now most definitely grinning.

“Alan Akbar? No dear” Malan replied playfully “never heard of the chap.”

“Well my little pink friend” She continued menacingly, running a claw slowly down the creatures stomach, “unless this Alan Akbar is about to burst through the door an rescue you you’re going to feel this descend on you most imminently!”

She held up the probe and something in the creatures response told her that it knew exactly what would happen next.

“Malan, be a dear turn the translator off will you” she asked smiling, “I think we will do this the old fashioned way…”

Whilst this piece can be read on its own there are other pieces which give it some greater context which you can find here and then here.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/pest/

A letter to the council – An Armitage Tangent

Secondly, and perhaps more obviously, I would again press as to why my husband is now on what is quite obviously a dangerous undertaking. He did not take either a proper coat or sturdy shoes,

The Cottage

79 The Crescent

Little Norwood

West Yorkshire

To whom it may concern

I would write to you in the strongest terms with regards to the recent treatment of my husband, Mr Armitage Shanks, of the address noted above.

Two days ago My husband attended your offices and was informed by the receptionist that in order for his family to continue to receive our support he would need to support one of your apparent operations within The Rift. This really is most unacceptable and not how we should conduct things as the last bastion of organised civilisation.

To this point I would ask a number of questions.

Firstly, who the devil is this receptionist. Whilst the world may have gone to hell (please forgive my language, but this matter has me most vexed), surely one would require far greater authority to compel my husband to risk life and limb that that possessed of a mere receptionist.

My husband is a weak willed man and I can only assume that she is one of these modern liberated types who, feeling empowered per some council agenda, feels that she can order people to their doom willy nilly. This simply will not do and on that matter I would ask that you escalate my concerns to the highest possible authority.

Secondly, I would again press as to why my husband is now on what is quite obviously a dangerous undertaking. He did not take either a proper coat or sturdy shoes, instead choosing a light summer jacket and a pair of tan brogues. Can you assure me that you have provided his with suitable apparel.

Lastly I would again insist that you return him home as soon as is possible. He is in no way prepared for an endeavour of this basis and not capable of a great deal more than some light gardening and the occasional trip to the pub. He has also not yet fitted a shelf in the kitchen over which he has been procrastinating for some time and I must insist that should anything untoward happen to my husband then I will hold you responsible for not only the welfare of me and my family but you will also need to put up that shelf as I currently have nowhere for my pans.

I anticipate your swift response.

Yours Sincerely

Katherine Shanks

If you want to read more about Armitage Shanks please take a look here.