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

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

Paula wrote: "Wow, Justin, what a story. Superb suspense and dialogue. Excellent story. And the jump-to ending does work--and is quite beautiful, and neither too long nor too short. Lovely."

Thank you Paula. I asked my youngest brother for authentic pilot dialogue with the tower on final approach since he flies for Delta. I was also inspired by the scene in Close Encounters of the Third Kind with the air traffic control tower talking to two airliners who encounter a UFO.

Tom wrote: "Interesting concept, Justin."

Thanks Tom - hopefully that is a "good" interesting and not a "bad" interesting. LOL!

A Flight Like No Other
The weather over Seattle-Tacoma International Airport was its usual gray overcast, with zero visibility and intermittent precipitation. For Captain James Harrison, it was a routine approach into this particularly soggy airport. The only thing different about this flight was that his own two children were onboard, seated in business class.
“Gear down,” he ordered the First Officer, who quickly toggled the appropriate switches.
“Gear coming down. All green,” the First Officer reported.
Harrison could hear the hydraulic whine and clunk of the descending gear locking into place.
“Seattle Approach this is Trans-Air 258 descending via the Hawks arrival out of 8000 for 6000. We have information kilo.”
“Trans-Air 258, Seattle Approach. Descend and maintain 4000, heading 340. Expect ILS runway 16 right.”
“Trans-Air 258 copies. Four-thousand feet on the altitude, 340 on the heading one-six right.”
The 737 banked gently, its winglets creating vortices in the atmospheric soup.
“Keep your eyes on the scope,” Harrison admonished the First Officer.
“Scope is negative Captain.”
“Trans-Air 258, Approach, turn right, heading 090, speed 210.”
“Trans-Air 258 copies Approach, 090 heading, speed 210.”
Another bank and a bump by turbulence – then a sudden blinding flash that was gone as quickly as it appeared. Rain streaked across the windshield faster than the wipers could clear them.
“Did you see that?” gasped the First Officer.
“Quite the lightning,” replied Harrison.
“Trans-Air 258, Approach, turn right heading 140. Intercept the final approach course. Maintain 3000, cleared ILS 16 right.”
Through his headset, Harrison could hear some kind of commotion erupting in the cabin, but he was on final and could not give it his attention.
“Trans-Air 258 maintain 180 knots until final approach fix, contact Tower.”
“Seattle Tower, Trans-Air 258 inbound 16 right ILS.”
The cacophony behind him continued to grow, and one of the flight attendants was pounding on the locked flight deck door.
“Why isn’t she strapped in?!” Harrison said half aloud.
“Trans-Air 258, Seattle Tower, you’re number two for landing following heavy 767. Caution, wake turbulence, cleared to land runway 16 right.”
Harrison could see the 767 on the glidepath before him. Touching down, it left a wake of turbulent air and water behind that Trans-Air 258 would have to pass through. The 737 vibrated and bounced as Harrison fought with the yoke to maintain control. With another heavy thud they were down, thrust reversers screaming with the effort to help decelerate the aircraft.
The pounding on the flight deck door was so incessant, that – in a rare breach of protocol - Harrison jerked his thumb at the First Officer to open it. The lead flight attendant nearly fell through the narrow opening.
“Captain!” she exclaimed. “The children! They’ve disappeared! All of them!”
“What?!” replied Harrison.
“After that flash, they were just, gone!” The woman was on the verge of hysteria, tears streaming down her face.
Harrison’s own mind raced. What he was hearing was inconceivable, impossible, and yet…
“Seattle Tower this is Trans-Air 258, I’m declaring a medical emergency, multiple casualties! I repeat, multiple casualties!”
It was all he could think of. The taxi to the gate seemed to take an eternity. Finally pulling into position, Harrison killed the engines, ripped off his headset and staggered back into the bedlam of the cabin. Passengers were yelling, screaming and crying. He looked at the two business class seats where his son and daughter had been.
Nothing but empty safety belts greeted his eyes.
The airbridge attached, the business class door hurled open and medics streamed onto the plane, forcing their way through clots of passengers standing in the aisle. One stopped to talk to Harrison, but all he could do was gesture to the empty seats. The lead flight attendant had regained a measure of composure and filled him in.
Slowly, dumbfounded, the medics disembarked, their waiting gurneys returned empty to the waiting aid cars.
Airport police arrived, followed by Seattle police, and then agents from the local FBI field office.
Harrison was debriefed, then debriefed again by a revolving door of different federal agencies.
All he knew, all he could say, was that his children were missing – and would they help find them?
***
Under the twin suns of a planet far from Earth, a group of young students studied under the gentle tutelage of their Moreanian instructor. One young boy raised his hand.
“Why did you bring us here?” he asked.
The instructor looked at him curiously and replied, “We thought all Earth children wanted to get away from their parents…”

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2025
Reviews/critiques welcome

Wow, those lists of themes are amazing. We've certainly written about a lot of different things! Congrats on the win Jot!!

Really appreciate the reviews Tom, very much!

Thanks, much appreciated. I wasn't sure how it would really pan out and I worry that the quality of my writing is going down or is lazy.

Thanks Tom, I managed to pull one out of my brain. I think my muse has gone on sabbatical and left me to figure it all out myself!

A Matter of Perspective

Corporal Stryker Delrand sat at his post and watched the threat board with an intensity and focus that belied his relatively young age. It was late, and most of the command center was empty except for the watch duty officer and a few aids who were milling around trying to stay awake. Delrand stood and did a few deep knee bends at his console to get some adrenaline pumping, when the Supreme Commander – Red Army Forces, strode purposefully into the room, trailing a host of lesser ranks behind him.
“Room ten-hut!” ordered the duty officer, snapping crisply to attention. Delrand was just on his way back up from another exercise, so he segued perfectly into attention as well.
“As you were,” ordered the SCRAF, as he was affectionately known by the troops under his authority. He stopped by Delrand’s station and looked down at the monitors the corporal was responsible for.
“Quiet tonight eh Corporal…Delrand is it?”
“Yes sir, all quiet, nothing on the Big Board as you can see. Seismometers register nothing, wind velocity is nominal, precipitation within normal limits,”
“But there’s still a chance for an incident,” noted the SCRAF. It was not a question so much as it was a statement of fact. Everyone knew it.
“That’s true sir, but our data suggests a fairly stable pattern-”
“That’s enough Corporal,” the duty officer intervened. “Let’s not bother the Supreme Commander with your unproven theories.”
“What theories?” asked the SCRAF, to the consternation of the duty officer.
“They’re just the Corporal’s wild ideas sir. I wouldn’t give them any credence or attention.”
“I was addressing Corporal Delrand, not you,” growled the SCRAF. “Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee and let me chat with the good Corporal eh?”
The duty officer hesitated.
“That was not a request.”
Pulling a sharp about face, the duty officer marched crisply to the mess station for a beverage.
“Now, what’s your theory son?” asked the SCRAF.
“Well sir, we’ve noticed that these environmental disturbances seem to happen approximately every fourteen days. It starts with seismic disturbances, followed by strong winds that lay waste to our forests and ends with heavier than normal rains and concurrent flooding.”
“And it’s been how long since the last environmental incident?” queried the SCRAF.
The Corporal paused uncertainly.
“Don’t sugarcoat it son. Spit it out,” the SCRAF ordered.
“It’s been thirteen days sir.”
“Thirteen! Good Lord! We’ve… we’ve got patrols out there foraging for food, building new outposts, scouting for Black Forces…” the SCRAF trailed off.
Delrand kept his eyes straight down and pretended to be invisible.
“Pull them all back! Get them back now!” barked the SCRAF. “Duty Officer!”
The watch duty officer scurried back, wiping donut crumbs from his face with the back of his arm.
“Reporting as ordered sir!”
“Send out the recall signal now. All units, all stations. No exceptions. I want everyone back to base and buttoned up until after this next incident – on the double!”
“Sending out the signal now sir, but it may take some time to reach our outermost patrols.”
“Damn it man! I do not want any casualties on my watch. Send out drones to pick them up if you have to, but get those soldiers back before dawn!”
The duty officer saluted and pivoted to make his way over to the main communications station.
“Very good work Corporal Delrand. You may have just saved the lives of your friends and comrades.”
“Yes sir, thank you sir.”
“Now, show me your sensor data in real time. I want to see this phenomenon happen for myself.”
Delrand made some adjustments, then pulled up another chair for the SCRAF.
It was going to be a long night.
***
Corporal Delrand’s data was better than good. It was perfect. Everything happened in exactly the sequence he predicted. The base shook under a seismic assault, knocking Delray and the SCRAF to the ground, and then, just as operations returned to normal, the heavy winds came, destroying the surrounding forests. The SCRAF and all his soldiers could do nothing but hang on with their enhanced strength and endure the environmental assault. Lastly, the rains came, flooding several sections of the base. Yet in the end, the base survived, along with everyone inside it.
“Corporal, I’m recommending you for a promotion! Because of your theories, you saved everyone in this facility,” said the SCRAF.
Delrand saluted smartly.
***
In the backyard, Jimmy put away the lawn mower and turned the sprinklers on.
(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2025
Reviews/critiques welcome

Great stories Tom and Jot!!

Yes, I concur. Great theme!

Congratulations to you both!

Okay, I voted. Thanks!

Jot, do you want me to vote even though I didn't do a story this month? Just let me know either way. Thx!

Great stories friends! I do not think I am getting one in this month though, unfortunately.

Great job J.F.!!!

Tom wrote: "Very good imagery and pacing, Justin."

Thank you Tom!!

Story is up! It's a new year but I feel like I'm watching a rerun! Best wishes to all in 2025!

Fairy Tales

Ashton’s alarm softly chimed as the lights in his room slowly came up in a facsimile of dawn. He stirred slightly, but fought for a few more precious minutes of sleep. Today was THE DAY, one that he should be excited about since he was the sole candidate from his district to be accepted into the Diplomatic Corps and a posting to the CAMELOT colony. Instead, he just felt numb, as if it was happening to someone else. He had already said goodbye to his parents and his few remaining friends. Now, it was just him. Alone.

Reluctantly he sat up in bed, turned off the alarm clock and grabbed his tablet off the nightstand. He swiped left for the day’s schedule. It was all blank of course, except for the noon segment highlighted in bright yellow: LAUNCH. Swinging his legs out onto the cool bedroom floor, he dropped into a pushup stance and proceeded to crank out several dozen until he finally lost count. Then it was time for a sanitizing decon shower, a new spray-on unitard, and his morning food allotment from the kitchen dispensary.

The news on the holofeed that morning was universally dismal: air quality (dangerous), fallout levels (high), rioting (in progress in Districts one, three and twelve), government gridlock (absolute). Ashton finished slurping his vitamin enhanced breakfast gelatin and turned it off in disgust. After taking care of his oral hygiene, he went and sat in a white plastiform chair near the door to his quarters and did some breathing exercises to calm his nerves. When the CAMELOT Commissar finally arrived, Ashton was ready.
***
The rest of the morning sped by in a blur. Since the fallout levels were so high, only underground travel was permitted (rioters notwithstanding), so Ashton entered the tube transit system with the Commissar in tow and was whisked away quickly and quietly. Transit to the launch complex took little time, and before he knew it, Ashton was in line with other CAMELOT candidates. They proceeded in an orderly line of white and gray to receive their final immunizations and body scans. One poor soul apparently had developed a “biological anomaly with structural changes” and was rejected for transport. Two Commissars pulled him screaming from the line. “I want to go!!! I’m healthy!!!! I want to…” The wailing faded into the background as Ashton marched forward to the shuttle. He kept his eyes forward and mouth shut. He was not going to do anything at this point to jeopardize his spot on the ship. Passing through the shuttle’s outer bulkhead, he found his assigned seat in the passenger compartment and strapped himself in.
***
CAMELOT. The word stirred visions of King Arthur and the Knights of the Roundtable – of a civil society that flourished under wise and benevolent leadership in a bucolic land of prosperous farms, defended by good men of strength and renown. It was Man’s attempt at something truly different, before the nuclear war had destroyed most of the infrastructure necessary to get to a new planet in the first place. It was to be a new type of government on a new world for the best and brightest of humanity to try and escape the mistakes of the past.

Ashton felt a mild wave of nausea as the shuttle made the jump into hyperspace, but focused his attention on the high definition video playing on the screen before him. Rolling green hills unspooled before him next to sparkling blue waters, crops waved in gentle breezes under a tender sun, while picture-perfect families stood smiling in front of gleaming white houses that blended harmoniously with their surroundings. All of this and more awaited him on CAMELOT. Once his tour was complete, he would receive his first posting in the Diplomatic Corps to help with CAMELOT’s continued growth and governance. An abrupt thud signaled the shuttle’s trip through hyperspace was complete. Ashton pressed his face to the viewport for a glimpse of CAMELOT as the ship began its landing sequence. On the half that was dark, he could see flashes in the atmosphere.
***
The ride down was bumpy, so by the time the shuttle landed on the large circular pad just outside the main city complex, Ashton was extremely nauseated. Staggering towards the exit, he noticed the two Commissars were aggressively pulling each candidate off and hurling them down the short set of stairs.
“No time to waste!” they yelled.
“Grab a rifle, pack, supplies and move out!”

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2025
Reviews/critiques welcome

Good story Tom to start the new year!

Congrats Tom!