Justin’s Comments (group member since Mar 13, 2016)

Justin’s comments from the Science Fiction Microstory Contest group.

Thaddeus! Best wishes in your new job! I'm sure you will continue being fantastic!

My condolences for your losses and tough times.

Best,

Justin

Wunderwaffe

“So, you think Yuri Gagarin was the first man into space eh?”
The old man coughed into a yellowing handkerchief. His wheelchair wobbled slightly.
“Well, it is a fact,” I said nonchalantly.
“How little you truly know. So trusting of facts and figures, the official stories – bah!”
It was always the same with these old Nazi types, still reliving the glories of The Third Reich, denying the Holocaust, or claiming to have just been following orders. Some went to their deaths angry, others crying for the mercy they denied so many during the war, a few silent and emotionless.
But this old prick had the stones to sit there and tell me how history had really unfolded.
“I’ve seen the old newsreels. Gagarin beat the Americans into space. A double humiliation too after Sputnik.”
“Ah, Sputnik. Child’s play compared to what we accomplished.”
I turned off the tape recorder since engaging prisoners in topics beyond the standard questionnaire was forbidden.
“Who do you say was the first man in space?”
The old man let the question hang, like a rocket right at liftoff, fighting gravity to hover just above the surface of the Earth.
I moved to restart the tape recorder, but he motioned for me to stop.
“It was me,” he said quietly.
“You?!”
“Yes me, Adolf Klaus. First astronaut of The Third Reich and the world! First in an elite fellowship of those who’ve slipped the surly bonds of Mother Earth to touch the face of God!”
He wiped a bit of spittle from his lips with the back of his withered hand.
“What proof do you have?”
Digging into his coat pocket, he tossed a small pin onto the table. Security was clearly not doing its job.
I picked it up. Any colors were long gone, but it was clearly a globe. Inside the globe’s perimeter were the bent arms of a swastika, and in the center, dividing the globe into two hemispheres and intersecting the swastika at its mid-point, was a giant rocket.
“Now I know you’re lying,” I said triumphantly. “There is no way you squeezed into a V-2 rocket and went into space.”
“Who said anything about a V-2?”
“That was the only ballistic rocket Germany had during the war.”
“That you know of,” Klaus interrupted.
“There was one prototype,” he continued, his rheumy eyes seeming to regain some of their past luster.
“It was the V-3 Amerika Rocket. We only had enough resources to build one. Hitler forbade any beyond that, demanding more V-2’s to fling at England – but it was beautiful. Its polished chrome was so blinding we had to drape it in camouflage netting just to work around it.”
“One faded little pin doesn’t prove anything.”
“Oh but it does,” Klaus countered.
“The Fuhrer himself awarded it to me just before liftoff.”
“Are there any photos? Any grainy, black and white silent film footage?”
Klaus dug his hand into his other pocket, then placed a small spool of film between us.
“It’s all there.”
I let the film sit, daring me to see a history I would rather deny than accept.
“What was your mission?”
Klaus looked around, as if trying to pull the memories from thin air.
“There was enough payload capacity for a pilot and one atomic weapon. The rocket had a small capsule at the tip, heavily shielded. I launched from a site close to Peenemunde, my target was New York City.”
My hands clenched under the table as Klaus continued. The thought of Nazis defiling outer space turned my stomach.
“We would have found the launch site after the war.”
“It was destroyed by American bombers shortly after liftoff. But they were too late…too late to stop me.”
“You still lie. Here we sit and New York still stands.”
“I was over the target, ready to drop the world’s first atomic weapon. It would have been a second Pearl Harbor, changed the course of the war...but, I couldn’t do it. As I looked out the small capsule window, I saw but through a mirror darkly the beauty of our Earth.”
Klaus looked at me with tearful eyes. I palmed the film spool and pressed a small button on the table. Two guards came in and wheeled him away. I pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and blew out a plume of smoke.
Just like a rocket, I thought.
I held the film over my lighter and watched it melt, erasing a history that should never have been.

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2022
Reviews/critiques welcome

Way to go Thaddeus! You are crushing us...I mean, crushing it! :) Great work!

Hey Jeremy! Loved your story!

Good Samaritans

“Captain Miller?”
A voice called up into the cockpit of the B-52H Stratofortress.
“Who’s asking?”
“Lieutenant Riley sir, DOD liaison officer.”
“Oh right. Come on up. I’m in the middle of preflight.”
Several other crew members pushed past Riley to scramble up the short ladder into the belly of the ancient aircraft.
“Thank you sir. I need to introduce you to someone. May I have five minutes?”
Captain Miller looked down at the Lieutenant. Based on the man’s facial expression, he understood he would have to climb down to him.
“Take over Bens.”
He tossed his checklist to the copilot. Sliding down the ladder, he landed in front of the Lieutenant and quickly noticed the man next to him.
“Captain Miller, I’d like to introduce you to Mister Jax Pelland. He’s the civilian observer for this mission.”
Miller looked the man over. He was lean, almost to the point of being gaunt, and his immaculate gray suit hung too loosely on his frame.
Pelland extended a thin arm to shake Miller’s hand.
“Hello Captain Miller, it is a distinct pleasure,” said Pelland, slowly and distinctly. “I know you’d prefer not to have a civilian on this mission, but ah…”
“It’s alright Mr. Pelland. It’s not my first rodeo. Just try and keep out of the way.”
“I will certainly do so Captain. May I?” Pelland gestured to the ladder.
“By all means. Bens! Civilian coming up. Put him in the jump seat.”
As Pelland disappeared into the bomber, Miller turned his attention back to Lieutenant Riley.
“Why is the Pentagon sending a civilian on this mission?!” he hissed.
“It’s above my paygrade Captain. I have my orders and you have yours. The payload’s been loaded and the clock is ticking sir.”
Miller snorted.
“Just one more thing sir.”
The Lieutenant handed him a sealed envelope covered with every type of security marking he had ever seen.
“What’s this?”
“As far as I know, further orders. Good luck sir.” With that, Riley snapped a quick salute, performed an about-face and quickly exited the massive hangar.
Miller stuffed the envelope into a breast pocket and launched himself up to the flight deck. He turned to his copilot.
“Fire them up!”
“Copy that sir, spooling up on one…”

***
Mister Pelland was as good as his word. Five hours into the mission he had only asked two questions and either stared out the window or at a small black tablet he worked with long fingers. It was only after inflight refueling that he appeared to grow restless.
“Everything okay Mister Pelland?” asked Captain Miller over the roar of the bomber’s eight engines.
“Well Captain, I do believe it is time for you to open the envelope Lieutenant Riley gave you.”
Bens gave Miller a questioning eyebrow.
“And how do you know about that Mister Pelland?”
“Because I helped draft the orders Captain Miller. Would you please open it now? Timing is of the essence.”
Miller pulled the envelope out, broke its seal, aligned its outer markings with pages from the classified code book kept in the bomber’s small safe, and proceeded to read the document inside.
Immediately he grabbed the yoke.
“My airplane,” he said.
“Your airplane,” Bens responded without questioning.
“Bens bring all throttles up to full and set this heading.”
Bens stared at the small strip of paper in Miller’s hand.
“Do it!”
Bens rapidly entered the course correction into the bomber’s navigation computer while Miller began a broad turn to align the aircraft with the new coordinates.
“Thank you Captain,” said Pelland. “Now if you’ll please escort me to the bomb bay.”
“Captain what’s he talking about?”
Miller passed the aircraft back to Bens and unholstered his sidearm.
“Bens, I’m taking Mister Pelland back to our payload. I’m under orders to shoot anyone who follows us into the bomb bay. Do I make myself clear?”
Bens grimaced. “Perfectly sir.”
“Mister Pelland, please follow me.”
Miller sealed the bulkhead behind him, leaving a bewildered Bens to maintain course and speed to their new destination.
Without warning, the bomb door status lights began to flash and Bens felt the aircraft rise in response to a change in weight.
Miller reappeared, sweat streaming down his face.
“Where’s Mister Pelland?” asked Bens.
Miller sat silently for a moment.
“And what the hell happened to the payload?”
A bright flash appeared off the bomber’s port wing. It flew parallel with them for a brief moment, then rocketed away almost vertically into the darkening sky.

(749 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2022
Reviews/critiques welcome

Great story J.F.! Loved it!

Parallel Planes

The fleet made its way slowly across the Pacific. A steady thrumming of massive engines beat dully into the heads of every sailor and airman aboard, while churning screws roiled the waters behind and angled prows sliced the waters ahead. Flight Officer Ken stubbed out a cigarette in the darkness of the fantail and tossed it overboard, exhaling his own smoke to mix with that of the ship’s. He breathed in the salty mist and listened to the organized chaos of the main hangar deck. Armorers scurried between the tightly packed planes, whose folded wingtips gave them the appearance of nestled birds – raptors at rest. They pushed carts loaded with bombs, bullets and torpedoes, arming one airplane, then moving quickly to another. As they finished, the marshaling crews towed the fully laden planes to the flight deck elevators for a short vertical trip to the flight deck and final fueling. Each plane was moved into position on the floating airfield, an intricate logistical dance planned for, practiced, and now executed with precision and pride.
***
An alarm sounded, dragging Flight Officer Ken from his wave-induced trance back into the urgency of the moment. He looked up at the carrier’s island and saw a row of flags run up the line. Pennants stood at attention in the wind: the attack was on. He clambered up the narrow rail ladder to the flight deck and saw his gunner running toward him. A boy really, of only 18, whose enthusiasm was as infectious as his smile.
“Sir! Sir! Do you see it?!” he exclaimed, saluting Ken crisply.
Ken returned his salute, then offered his hand to the younger man.
Momentarily caught off guard, his gunner hesitated, then shook it vigorously.
“I won’t let you down sir!”
“I know you won’t. Let’s get preflighted.”
They both moved towards the first row of planes, watching the flight deck pitch first above, then below the horizon in the reddening dawn.
A green flare suddenly exploded upwards.
“Guess they aren’t kidding around are they sir?”
“Nope. Now triple-check that gun. I don’t want it jamming.”
The young man saluted again and attended his weapon.
Ken watched as other pilots and air crews began prepping their respective aircraft: fighters, dive-bombers and torpedo planes – an impressive collection of immense firepower. But would it be enough?
That’s defeatist, he thought to himself. We have the element of surprise. They have no idea we’re even coming.
A whistle sounded.
Time to go.
Clambering up the port wing of his own dive-bomber, he clapped his gunner on the shoulder and gave him a thumbs-up as he stepped into the cockpit. The man looked even younger with his flight goggles on.
Ken adjusted the black-and-white photo of his wife clipped to the instrument panel and began testing his plane’s control surfaces.
Another whistle, a pause – and then – CONTACT!
The engine coughed, sputtered, and caught, exhausting a cloud of gray smoke that briefly hid the slowly turning propeller. Ken stood on the airplane’s brakes as he pushed the throttle forward. The noise was deafening. Leaning out of the cockpit, he saw the flight deck officer salute, give the thumbs up, point at him, then gesture down the flight deck in a crouching stance. Slowly, his dive-bomber rolled towards the end of the pitching deck, gained increasing speed, then staggered into the air. Ken felt his stomach dip as his heavily laden plane clawed for altitude. Up they went, the tip of the spear and harbinger of destruction.
“You okay back there?” he yelled through his throat microphone.
“Locked and loaded sir!”
Ken eased the throttle back to cruising speed, noting the other planes forming up on his starboard wing.
The sunrise was glorious.
***
As his squadron approached the Yokosuka Naval Arsenal in Tokyo Bay, Ken could not help but admire the crisp, snow capped cone of Mount Fuji. He scanned below him. The entire harbor was full of ships, all in neat rows, silent, and unaware of their presence. No flak or fighters rose to meet him. He keyed his radio.
“Climb Mount Rushmore! I repeat, climb Mount Rushmore!”
The code phrase was signaled from plane to plane, and finally the fleet.
They had done it! The enemy was completely unprepared!
The Imperial Japanese fleet lay at anchor, crews slumbering on their day of rest.
“This is it!” Ken yelled.
He nosed his plane over into a steep dive, loosed his first bombs, and opened a new era of conquest for the United States.

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2022
Reviews/critiques welcome

Tom wrote: "Jot wrote: "I think the criques are an amazing part of this contest and I apologize for not writing them myself hardly at all. Wish I had the time. Today mission is to keep my new job, which I have..."

I appreciated the reviews, if only to hear what people really think of my writing (good, bad or ugly). I know I have not reciprocated much in terms of reviewing others as well. I've been doing so much voiceover work that my free time is really filled up with that.

Tom wrote: "Justin wrote: "Loved the story Tom, especially with what you think is a creepy, bad alien being a good one. Great work!"

Thank you kindly, Justin. I enjoyed the richness of imagery and local color..."

Thanks Tom! It was fun poking at those myths!

Happy New Year everyone! Tom, great story to finish off 2021.

Onwards!

Loved the story Tom, especially with what you think is a creepy, bad alien being a good one. Great work!

Jack wrote: "Justin wrote: "Jack wrote: "Justin wrote: "Hey friends!

I'm thrilled to announce I've been selected to narrate and produce a short history book "Rice and Revolution" through Amazon's ACX platform...."

Thank you sir!

Origins of Legend

It was the first inter-species mission of our new alliance. Celebrated with much political fanfare and propaganda, expectations from all the participating systems were high. The pressure was on, but we actually thrived under the stress and became closer as a team because of it. I was chosen by the Supreme Committee for the Joint Exploration of Space to be the mission commander. No doubt my sterling record in other exploratory missions lent me a certain credibility, but I was no shoo-in.

Everyone on the team was a highly respected expert in their field with impeccable credentials. No one had to prove anything, to anyone. Launch day approached and we each settled into our respective seats on our shimmering ship, itself an amalgamation of systems and designs from each of the participating species. As we exited the stratosphere upon an ever expanding arc of anti-graviton waves with the best and brightest at their consoles and myself in the captain’s chair I thought to myself, “What could possibly go wrong?”

Apparently, everything.

***
- Mission report -
Joint Exploration Mission One lost
All hands presumed deceased
No emergency beacon detected
Final position – unknown
Autonomous deep space search probes launched

***
Saturday, July 22, 1933
A82 motorway, Scotland

George Spicer and his wife marveled at the lake as they drove along the new road bordering it. Although fog and overcast skies reduced the overall majesty of the view, it certainly did not dampen their enthusiasm for it or their little excursion. As they rounded a blind corner, Mrs. Spicer let out a scream as her husband smashed on the brakes for all they were worth. There, in the middle of the road, lay a creature unlike anything they had ever seen. Its grayish body glistened and its head swayed high above them on a snake-like neck.
George lay on the horn, startling the beast and sending it undulating towards the water on four large flippers. The two stared in disbelief as it disappeared beneath the waves in a crash of water and foam.

***
Friday, October 20, 1967
Bluff Creek, Northern California

The two cowboys guided their horses along the water’s edge, when suddenly both mounts snorted and neighed in terror. One horse reared up, nearly throwing its rider.
“Whoa! Steady girl, steady, what’s the…”
“Good God what is that?!”
A massive, bipedal creature with dark hair stood up and looked at the two men.
“Get your camera out!” exclaimed the one.
“Cover me!” replied the other.
While one cowboy fumbled for his camera, the other slid his hunting rifle out of its scabbard. As both men moved towards the creature, it promptly turned away and began walking along the creek and into the denser forest.
“Are you getting this?!”
Massive arms swaying in time with its tremendous stride, the creature glanced back over its shoulder once and disappeared into a grove of trees.
“I got it! I got it!”
A deep growling unlike anything either man had ever heard rumbled back at them.
The man holding the rifle cocked it, but began moving his horse backwards.
“Let’s not push our luck, okay?”
“You don’t have to tell me twice…”

***
Day, month, year – unknown
Somewhere in the Nevada desert…

“Dammit Grey I swear you’re cheatin’,” swore the young army sergeant, throwing his cards down on the makeshift poker table.
Grey raised his spindly hands in a show of incredulity and innocence, small mouth whispering barely audible protests to the contrary. His two companions mimicked the same.
“You sure you’re not readin’ my mind? I know we’re all technically inferior to you and your pals here, but takin’ advantage durin’ a poker game…well that ain’t fair!”
Grey reached out with slender arms to collect his winnings.
“Hey Sarge!”
“Yeah?!”
“The LT is on his way down. He’s got some top brass with him!”
“Roger that!” The sergeant stood up quickly, shoving the table back against the wall.
“I’m gonna need you guys back in your cells okay? Just until everyone leaves, promise!”
Reluctantly Grey and his two subordinates shuffled back to their cells, sitting down dejectedly on the spartan cots provided for them.
Just as the lieutenant and party entered the bunker, the base alarm klaxons blared.
In the blink of an eye, a large section of the ceiling dematerialized, completely exposing it to the outside.
Hovering above them in a disk of brilliant light was a ship.
Grey stood up along with his companions.
This was it! They were going home!

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2021
Reviews/critiques welcome

Jack wrote: "Justin wrote: "Hey friends!

I'm thrilled to announce I've been selected to narrate and produce a short history book "Rice and Revolution" through Amazon's ACX platform. As a history buff, this cau..."

Now that I'm using iZotope RX 8/9 editing software, it has made mastering so much easier - and of higher quality. It makes me feel bad I took so long with your book when my production rate now is so much faster!

Thank you Jot, Paula and Kalifer! It is so fun narrating a history book and filling in some of those knowledge gaps. After reading this I'm like - no wonder the Vietnamese embraced communism! Who would blame them?! Anyway, I've also just gotten my final Parkinson's Foundation project, so now I have two audio projects going at the same time. It's going to be a busy vacation!!! Thanks again everyone!

Thanks Jack!

Hey friends!

I'm thrilled to announce I've been selected to narrate and produce a short history book "Rice and Revolution" through Amazon's ACX platform. As a history buff, this caught my eye as I was looking for books to audition for. It is well written, and I'll be learning about some fascinating history that eventually led to the US involvement in the Vietnam conflict. Stay tuned and thanks for listening!

Karl, that is a fantastic short story! Loved it! Nice work!

Good story Jot! I liked it!

Another great story Tom! You're on a roll! Loved how the Denebian was a friendly.