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

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

Hopefully a good "interesting" and not a bad "interesting." LOL! Thanks Paula!

A Season of Fire and Fear

Lieutenant Fireman Trent Dejhar stepped out into the predawn chill and inhaled deeply. Yes… there it was. He could smell it… that mixture of damp leaves, needles, cones – and frost. The illusion of summer had finally vanished, followed swiftly by the specter of fire season. Last year had been a tough one for the city, with several hectares lost to its ravages, parts of the dome penetrated, and infrastructure destroyed. Dejhar stretched and looked up at the massive geodesic structure far above his head, noting fewer intact glass panels. He wondered how much of the dome’s fire system would actually work when the time came. Pulling his hood down more tightly, he took off at a respectable clip. He had only gone a few blocks when the sound of wailing bagpipes pierced the quiet through the dome’s static-laced PA system.
Assemble, they called.
To duty, they reminded.
Firemen forever, they praised.

***
“Take the scenic route Dejhar?” his Captain chided.
“No sir,” answered Dejhar, sweating profusely despite the cool temperatures.
“Got here as fast as I could. Straight past the Fireman’s Memorial.”
“Well, you’re faster than the quick and the dead,” the Captain conceded.
The Station House briefing room smelled of coffee and stale sweat. Groups of firemen clustered in the dim light, helmets in hand. They glanced at tactical displays flashing like sparkling gemstones along the wall. The newer firemen were understandably nervous.
“Be seated,” ordered the Captain.
“Gentlemen, this is fire season and the city is depending on us.”
He called up a map of the surrounding area. The display failed momentarily, then projected a shaky, hazy image.
“Our few remaining seismic sensors have detected rapid movement in the northwest quarter…here. We don’t have any recon drones left to put eyes on it, but make no mistake, it’s coming and it’s coming hard.”
A subdued murmur rippled through the assembled firemen.
The Captain was interrupted by a warbling siren that cut in and out.
“Okay. The city is moving everyone to the inner defenses. Fortunately, Engine 2 is operational again so we’ll have more firepower.”
Dejhar gave a small shout and pumped his fist in the air.

***
The massive firetrucks roared out of the Station House, gleaming red, glistening chrome, lights strobing and sirens shrieking in warning: Make way! Make way for the Firemen!
“Nuclear core stable Lieutenant,” reported a Techman.
“Understood,” Dejhar grunted, manhandling the firetruck’s steering wheel over the rough terrain outside the dome’s perimeter. Tension ran high among the crew, who tried bravely to beat back the flames of fear.
“Gel now at operating temperature!”
“Cannon fully stabilized and ready for dispersal!”
“Contact in sixty seconds!”
External sensors showed a steep plunge in temperature as Engine 1 and Engine 2 set up on opposite sides of a narrow ravine.
“Deploy stabilizers,” Dejhar ordered.
Legs unfolded from the engine’s sides and buried themselves deep in the ground.
“Pumps to maximum!”
The Captain’s voice crackled over the wireless.
“Wait for my signal Lieutenant.”
“Understood Captain!”
The ground was shaking now, travelling through the Engine’s suspension and chassis.
A titanic wall of blue ice raced down the ravine, subsuming everything in its path.
“Deploy fire!!”
Twin jets of nuclear heated flaming gel cut straight through the ice, instantly vaporizing it and causing the glacial bow wave to collapse in upon itself – but still the ice came. Inexorably it crept closer to the two Engines, who were now in real danger of being engulfed by its frigid embrace.
“Leap frog retreat!” ordered the Captain.
“Copied!” replied Dejhar. “Retract legs now!”
Engine 2 retreated, spraying nuclear flames in a protective forty-five-degree arc as it rolled backwards, then waited for Engine 1 to do the same.
It didn’t.
“Captain!”
“Transaxle failure! Retreat, that’s an order!”
“Sir!”
“Do it! The city can’t lose both Engines!”
Dejhar maneuvered Engine 2 behind a crumbling concrete buttress at the ravine’s mouth.
“Maximum cannon elevation!” Dejhar screamed. “Empty the tanks!!”
Flaming gel rained down near Engine 1, tearing at the faceless ice.
Suddenly, Engine 2’s cannon fell silent.
Dejhar watched as ice covered Engine 1, turning it into a gleaming red gemstone behind a clear wall of blue.
“What do we do now Chief?” asked the Techman.
Dejhar realized he was addressing him.
“We reload and go back to get our friends. That’s what we’ve always done. That’s what our ancestors did – and we can do no less.”
Dejhar maneuvered Engine 2 towards the Station House, silently cursing the never-ending battle between fire and ice.

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2020
Reviews/critiques welcome

Great story Tom! Loved it!

Anyone heard from Jack or C lately?

Thanks Tom for the comment. It was not my strongest ending that's for sure. I found this story hard because everything I thought about was too similar to Dune. :) Getting swallowed by a giant sand worm seemed too cliché. Thanks again!

Yea Marianne!!!! Nice work!!

It's interesting Marianne. Don't "meh" yourself just yet! :)

The Last Sortie

Brandt Tucker sat on the porch of his prefab, sipping a cold one and resting his well-worn boots on a dingy wicker ottoman. Evenings on the outskirts were always quiet – just the way he liked it. Squinting up through the deepening red twilight he could easily make out Phobos and Deimos, and beyond that, Earth and Luna.
It hadn’t always been that way of course. There was a time when he enjoyed the hectic life of a transporter, running critical freight between Central and its outlying settlements, but those days were over. A steady stream of alcohol helped ease the bitterness of forced retirement. Sometimes it required more than one application, but tonight one beer seemed to suffice.
He was just about to turn in when he heard the rising whine of a vehicle making its way up the winding path to his home. Since no one ever came to visit, he unsnapped his holster and checked the charge on his repeater. There were a few in town who still held grudges. The ground car pulled up in a cloud of dust and flashing lights. A man in an impeccable black suit exited and strode purposefully towards the dilapidated domicile.
“You must have a real burr up your ass to come all the way out here Connor,” said Tucker.
“Love what you’ve done with place Brandt.”
“Screw you. Whaddya want?”
“Unfortunately, your help.”
“I’m retired. Remember? Courtesy of you.”
“Yes, well, I’m here to un-retire you.”
“I think ‘take this job and shove it’ comes to mind.”
“You haven’t even heard my offer.”
“Go find Anderson or Franks, I’m sure they can handle whatever it is you need.”
“Already did. They’re both dead. I hate to admit it, but you were the best.”
“What’s the matter? AI let you down? I told you those things couldn’t find the road much less stay on it.”
“The rigs aren’t getting through and we don’t know why,” Connor offered. “Supplies are reaching critical levels at many of the outlying settlements...”
Tucker yawned.
“If my offer isn’t generous enough, I’ve been authorized by the governor to invoke the Critical Personnel and Capabilities Act if necessary.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would. Take compensation or be conscripted.”
Tucker blew out his breath in exasperation.
“Fine, you win. But I want my old rig back, not one of those automated monstrosities. I don’t need an AI second guessing my every move.”
“We thought as much. It’s already standing by,” said Connor.
“I’ll grab my coat.”

***
It was a reunion between old friends when Tucker slid into the rig’s cockpit and deftly ran through the startup sequence. The cab still smelled exactly the way he remembered. With all systems green across the board, he pushed the throttles forward and felt eighteen, six-meter tires bite into Martian soil. Ignoring the navi-computer and its highlighted waypoints, he pointed the rig out to where the invading grasses of Earth gave way to relentless Martian sand. The route was etched in his memory like a well-worn path.
“Ranger One this is Central. Comm check.”
“Acknowledged, reading you five-by-five,” answered Tucker, immediately muting his onboard mics.
The rig gently undulated beneath him, rolling across the Martian dunes like a leviathan of old – and just as heavy. He adjusted his seat, settled in for the long-haul and scanned the horizon. The rig’s sensors looked beyond even that but detected nothing except sand and rock for kilometers on end. Tucker’s brow furrowed.

***
The first three deliveries went smoothly. Grateful settlers offered him homebrew and home-cooked meals, which he politely declined. While driving Brandt Tucker was strictly business. Besides, he could always collect on his way back. Three hours later, Tucker wondered if he would ever sit on the porch of his prefab again. He had no idea where he was, only that the road had suddenly disappeared from beneath his rig and sent them both plummeting into a yawning chasm not on any map. Fortunately the rig’s reinforced cab had protected him – barely, but escaping to the surface was going to be difficult. Extricating himself from the rig’s safety harness, he stood on the nearly shattered windshield and surveyed his situation. With a small flashlight he could see two other smashed rigs not far away, the final resting places for Anderson and Franks. Then it dawned on him what had happened, and it was all he could do to keep from laughing hysterically. He had driven into the largest pothole ever recorded by man!!

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2020
Reviews/critiques welcome

Yes! Great work!

I've been making sure the six simultaneous school Zoom meetings don't melt down my Internet service. It's required some equipment/infrastructure upgrades. Otherwise I've been submitting my audio auditions to audiobook studios around the country. I've been accepted into the talent roster by Deyan Studios down in California. No work guaranteed, but I'm able to audition for their projects. I also auditioned for a book with Cedar House here in Seattle. I didn't get the book, but they liked my audition and so I'm on their contact list now too.

Tom wrote: ""Piece of Mind" by Justin

A marvelously written tale of a future archaeologist finding an ancient tomb where virtual reality becomes a honey trap for unwary visitors.

The sensory and images are p..."

Thanks Tom, you always make me sound like the great writer I aspire to be.

Piece of Mind

Tyson Delacroix trudged through sand and searing heat to reach the ancient ziggurat. Awestruck, he keenly felt his own insignificance in its shadow. The ziggurat dominated the surrounding landscape in every direction, a great shock of reddish-brown regolith reaching skyward from the endless desert. This was definitely not how he had envisioned spending his vacation.
A refuge of shade for the body and an oasis for the mind, the ziggurat had steadfastly defied windborne erosion and decay over countless millennia. Ornate carvings both ancient and contemporary projected conspicuously from its crags and crevices, like gargoyles on some massive, undomesticated cathedral.
Following his team’s marker beacons, he entered through an arch of finely polished stone. Cool air washed over him as a perfectly round room carved out of solid rock opened before his eyes. The ceiling vaulted up and away to a tremendous height then disappeared into darkness. A shimmering pool beckoned from the center of the room, surrounded by what appeared to be hundreds – possibly thousands – of stone platforms.
“Hey Delacroix, over here!”
A dimly lit figure waved to him.
“You don’t need your suit on D, the atmosphere’s breathable in here – and safe. We detected no pathogens.”
“But, how…”
“We don’t know. It appeared as soon as we crossed the arch’s threshold. And that’s nothing compared to everything else we’ve discovered here.”
“You going to debrief me Simmons or do I have to play twenty questions?”
Delacroix reluctantly unzipped his suit, then shook the other man’s ungloved hand.
“You did interrupt my vacation.”
“Forget your vacation!” Simmons snorted. “This is the archeological discovery of the century, possibly of all time!”
“You do know you’re prone to exaggeration, right?” said Delacroix.
“You’ll change your tune soon enough,” replied Simmons. The other nearby team members nodded in agreement.
“I want you to lie down right here,” Simmons patted one of the stone platforms.
“What? Right now?”
“Just humor me a moment,” Simmons cajoled.
Reluctantly Delacroix lay down, feeling the small ridges of the platform’s surface along the exposed skin of his arms.

Delacroix reached over to accept the proffered drink from his wife. It was one of those fru-fru concoctions with an umbrella sticking out of it, but he was on vacation and willing to indulge a small encroachment on his ego for her sake. Besides, she looked stunning in her one-piece. Seagulls wheeled and skimmed above the surf and Delacroix felt at peace with his feet in the sand and sun on his face.
“We really needed this,” she said.

Delacroix gasped as Simmons helped him sit up on the platform. His mind reeled, grasping for a foothold in reality. He broke out into a cold sweat.
“Just breathe D. The first time is always a bit disorienting, but you get used to it.”
“F-first time?”
“Yes, we’ve already experimented with this many times now. Where were you?”
“Back…on vacation…so real…”
“Amazing eh? I told you you’d change your mind.”
“Something’s…not right…”
Delacroix looked around and saw the other team members in repose.
“D you worry too much. Now listen, we’ve tried out different ones and each has a unique experience. We’ve even seen the memories of other sentient species!!”
Delacroix shuddered as his sweat evaporated. It was too much, too fast. He couldn’t keep up.
The chamber seemed to echo with overlapping whispers, ancient conversations long past, in alien tongues that made no sense to him.
“Get them out…” he ordered Simmons.
“I really think you’re taking this the wrong way,” answered Simmons firmly.
“Now!!”
Delacroix fought down a wave of nausea. He could see the other team members twitching and jerking spasmodically on their platforms.
“No,” said Simmons. “I won’t do it. Think of all the places we’ll go, the other life we’ll see through their own eyes.”
“It’s killing them!”
Delacroix struggled to stand but Simmons slammed him back down onto the platform.

“We really needed this,” she said.
“I’m sorry we didn’t do it sooner love,” answered Delacroix. Sipping his drink, he placed the paper umbrella on the lowboy between their beach chairs.
Delacroix sighed, then stared out at the horizon where the ocean met the sky. He felt relaxed, but something nibbled at the corners of his mind. He was supposed to be somewhere, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“I wish this would last forever,” said his wife, beaming at him with a beautiful smile.
“Me too love. Me too…”
Delacroix noticed the paper umbrella.
It was shaped like a ziggurat.

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2020
Reviews/critiques welcome

Great stories so far this month! Really interesting the different directions they each take. Nice work!

Great story Greg! Congrats!

Good story Chris! It reminded me of a mix of A.I. and World War Z (with the robots piling on each other in an attempt to reach skyward).

Creepy good!

Yikes Jot! Remind me not to download your new computer language! LOL! Nice one!

Thank you for the insightful feedback Paula! This was the first story where I intentionally set out to write three sections each of 250 words. That was the limit I gave myself - so micro stories within a short story. I felt like how his discovery would upend the entire world, much like if ET's should suddenly land in Calcutta, Moscow or D.C., was the broad brush, snow globe upending finale I wanted for part three. I also wanted the antagonist to be the one to confirm his life's work, validating his obsession and highlighting the enormity of what he had accomplished. Again, thanks for the feedback, I know you're busy!!

Tom wrote: "Justin wrote: "Thanks Tom, much appreciated. I was finally hit with an inspiration last night while trying to fall asleep. I kept waking up to make sure I remembered it. LOL!"

Very interesting sto..."

Ah, indeed. I wrestled with whether I wanted to describe these Inheritors of Earth. But I felt like having the two main characters shake tentacles or antennas or wings or whatever was something I had done many times before. You get a hint about them though, just a tease, understanding that our skeletons are very small compared to them. Thanks for the feedback!

Thanks Tom, much appreciated. I was finally hit with an inspiration last night while trying to fall asleep. I kept waking up to make sure I remembered it. LOL!

Paula wrote: "I'll try to get one in. I've been swamped with an editing project plus preparing the 2nd edition (self-published [1st edition was published by Lillicat Publishers])-- of my '60s novel, The Change C..."

That's great to hear Paula! Best wishes for your success! Wonderful you're working with Jack. I hear he's a nice guy. LOL! :)