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

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

Hello everyone,

This is the original story before I pared it down to fit in our word limit. It is not here for judging of course, but further critiques are certainly welcome. If it is against group policy to post the longer version here just let me know and I'll be happy to remove it.

Thanks again to everyone who has already critiqued my official entry for this month!
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The D’nalgne Commonwealth had stood alone against the Horde for over a year before Earth and its colonies got involved. After decades of internecine strife, Earth’s unified government was loathe to engage in further military conflict. Yet the atrocities inflicted by the Horde upon conquered systems demanded some kind of response.

At first it was only shipments of weapons, but everyone knew it wouldn’t end there. Small groups of advisors were sent. Not to engage in combat of course. The media had a field day with the first deployments, vid-cams in everyone’s faces, images of gray-clad advisors disembarking from “unarmed” drop ships. Who were we kidding?

Of course those advisors had come under attack and returned fire. Dozens perished live on vid-cam. Who wants to see that while eating dinner? The public clamored for something to be done. More troops were needed to protect the advisors since all of the Commonwealth’s troops were fully engaged against the Horde. Millions were sent. Now Earth had skin in the game, and that’s where I came in.

Despite the influx of Earth’s troops and equipment, the Horde chewed through much of the Commonwealth’s outer defenses and were making a direct line to the D’nalgne home world. It was a beautiful planet, like a tropical island amongst the dark sea of space – but difficult to defend. As the center of government and commerce, every jump corridor led straight to it. Ever try to deploy a 360 degree minefield around an entire planet? Thought so.

Time was getting short so the joint chiefs of the Unified Forces Command called for a total planetary evacuation. My job was to take my team and safely escort the Princess Prime Minister Saylana Tress to one of the D’nalgne fortress worlds closer to Earth’s outermost colonial boundary. I expected it to be the usual head-of-state protective detail of some prissy, self-centered, spineless politician. I’ve never been more wrong in my life.

The Princess, I never used her full title - much to the dismay of her majordomo, was simply the most beautiful woman I had ever met. Her skin was as smooth as porcelain with a slight bluish hue that seemed to sparkle under the right light, just like her eyes. She was a full head shorter than myself, but perfectly proportioned and…

Hmm? No, I don’t know her measurements! I’m a professional. Now do you want me to continue? Fine.

What stood out to me was her hair, or, what looked like hair. Actually D’nalgne females don’t have hair. They have dreadlocks composed of soft wavy tentacles that approximate the look and movement of hair. If I didn’t know better I’d say they have a mind of their own.

Anyway, I had just touched down in my cloaked ship, the Scimitar, next to the palace when the vanguard of the Horde fleet arrived and began their orbital bombardment of the capital. As I ran out of the hardened launch bay, a massive blast took out my entire team who were still assembling outside on the tarmac. Vaporized. Just like that. But combots are easily replaceable and I had a job to do.

The palace also sustained a direct hit, but fortunately the Princess’ personal guard detachment had already hustled her out to the flight line. She did not look afraid, simply determined.

“Let’s get you out of here your Highness!” I yelled over the violent hail of destruction obliterating her capital.

“Is there room for my guards aboard your ship?” she asked. Her voice had a resonant quality to it that was soothing yet commanded instant respect and obedience. It sounded both in my ears and directly in my mind.

“I’m sorry Princess, my ship’s not a transport. It’s designed for stealth and not large enough for your personal detail.”

What? I didn’t lie to her! The combots fold up for storage. Her guards couldn’t do that. Do you want me to finish this story or not? Then stop interrupting!

She looked at me for the barest instant with those soft eyes, pivoted and simply pointed back towards the fiery furnace of the capital. “Save as many as you can Captain,” she ordered quietly. Without a word her entire guard turned and fanned out into the inferno to rescue civilians.

She turned back and looking up at me said, “Well, it’s seems I’m in your hands now Earther.”

“Commander Miles Trask at your service.” I bowed slightly from the waist.

Another blast hustled us quickly into the hangar and up the short ramp to my ship. It’s cloak shimmered and rippled as dirt and debris fell upon it.

“Sit down and hang on Princess!” She had already strapped into the seat next to mine when I allowed myself a surreptitious glance in her direction. Her tight smile told me I was not quite as discreet as I had thought, but with the hangar collapsing around us I had to refocus on getting us both as far away from here as possible.

The Scimitar erupted from the hangar and clawed for altitude. She watched the view screen as the burning capital quickly receded behind us, then vanished behind a veil of clouds and smoke. Entering low orbit, we flew right between the attacking Horde ships without being detected. I activated the decoy drones I had deployed before my arrival and gave the Horde fighters something to chase besides us.

She turned to me again and placed a data wafer in my hand. Her touch was electric. No, really. It was electric. She gave me quite a jolt.

“Oh I’m so sorry Commander! I forgot to ground myself!”

“It’s okay your Highness, really. No harm done,” I said, shaking my numb hand and cradling my bruised ego.

Yes, I was lying then. It had really hurt.

“I must get to this fortress world to rally my people. From there, I can broadcast to every city in our Commonwealth.” Her voice was so enthralling that I barely noticed she was holding my shocked hand. “Please hurry.”

Yes. I absolutely wanted to hurry. There was nothing more in the universe that I wanted to do in that moment than carry out her wish.

I let the navigation computer chew on the data wafer, then made the jump into hyperspace.

“Thank you Commander.”

“You don’t need to stand on ceremony with me your Highness. Please call me Miles.”

“Of course Miles. I am Saylana, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

“I was fully briefed.”

“Yes of course you were, but I’m not what you expected.”

“No Saylana, no you’re not.” I paused, carefully considering my next words. She was still the leader of a sovereign state entrusted to my care. “You’re better.”

I think she turned a darker shade of blue.

“I must rest now Miles. I will soon enter the d’thrall. By the time we reach our destination, I will be ready to rally our people against the Horde.”

“But, what is the d’thrall?”

Suddenly I realized she was now holding both of my hands in hers and the cockpit of the Scimitar had never seemed smaller.

“I cannot explain it to you. But whatever you see happening to me, you must not fear.”

And just like that, all of my fear and doubt about her, us, the war, anything, disappeared like mist before the sun. I pulled out the small couch behind the cockpit and…

Hey now! That’s not where this is going. I gave her a blanket and went back to my seat okay? You don’t believe me, I’ll give you the data from the cockpit data recorders. I was a perfect gentleman. Besides, after the d’thrall things were…different.

The closest thing I can compare it to is a cocoon, except it was made up entirely of her dreadlock tentacles. They wrapped themselves tightly around her –

The blanket fell off! Now if you don’t quit it I’m going to give you another hole to put your drink in. Got it?

Just as we exited hyperspace at the D’nalgne fortress world, her tentacles uncoiled, receded to their previous length, and revealed a completely new Saylana. Her soft and delicate body had been replaced with a muscled and powerful one. Standing up, she was now a head taller than me and had to stoop in the Scimitar’s cockpit. Her voice was slightly deeper, yet still with the same resonance that had graced my ears when I first met her only a short time ago.
Flexing her forearms caused a ridge of serrated spines to appear running from her wrist to her elbow.

“Now…” she said powerfully. “My people will see our hidden strength, enter the d’thrall they have forgotten about for so long and together we will crush the Horde!”

She clapped my shoulder with a powerful hand.

“Set us down there.” I hurried to comply.

And that’s how the Horde was defeated.

What do you mean you don’t believe me? You think I’d make something like this up? Okay, fine.

“Sweetheart, can you come over here for a minute?”

C. wrote: "Critique of No Damsel in Distress
A short story by Justin Sewall

This was an exciting story with a classic military SciFi ambiance.

A soldier/mercenary is hired to escort a Princess off planet fo..."

C,

Thanks for your thoughtful critique of my story! I'm not sure you may have caught the first line of the main character when he asks the "off-camera" person if he is recording. This is an interview we are listening in on.

The breaks in dialogue when the main character is seemingly interrupted is not him breaking the fourth wall to the reader, but responding to our "off-camera" interviewer. The more I worked that element into the story the more I liked it.

At the end, it is our storyteller asking the newly transformed and powerful female to come over to his table, as a way to prove to the "off-camera" interviewer the whole story is true. By calling her sweetheart, I was trying to show that their relationship had continued despite the transformation.

Your comment about more descriptive language is spot on and I agree with you 100 percent. This was of course a much longer story with a lot more background information.

I've decided I'm going to post the original longer edition in the comments section, just to show how much more I had to pare down. It is not up for judging of course, but simply for everyone to see what a broadsword and scalpel I had to take to this entry!

Thanks again for your insightful critique! I've decided to get you a Sippy cup for your whisky so as not to lose any of that precious elixir while reading!!

Heather wrote: "CRITIQUE Of "No Damsel In Distress" - a story by Justin Sewell.

An intriguing twist on a classic, timeless, spaceless Battle Of The Sexes tale ... and the only way it ever seems to end well - ie. ..."

Heather!

Thank you very much for the detailed and insightful analysis of my story. And as you predicted, I must deny consciously writing at any of the levels you have expounded on here.

The nameless/voiceless interviewer was a vehicle that I thought would allow me to inject some humor into the story without having to give any precious "space" to another character.

I appreciate how much thought went into your review and the comparison of my story to some aspects of "For Love of Babs." It is wonderful to see what other people read into and get out of anything I write.

Thanks again!

Kalifer, I really liked the twists in your story!

Fun story Chris! I liked it!

John wrote: "Justin wrote No Damsel in Distress

I liked your story. It took an unexpected twist with a modern look at the damsel in distress theme. Nice job Justin.

John"

Thanks John, much appreciated! I liked your story for this month as well!

Yes, I wrestled with what to call my nameless, faceless, giant group of attacking bad guys in light of your previous entry. But, horde is a great word. :)

What can I say? The non-verbal reporter interviewing the protagonist was a real louse. LOL!

I couldn't write anything. Your "Crunchies" melted my keyboard...

No Damsel in Distress (critiques welcome)

You recording? Great.

My job was to safely escort the Princess Prime Minister to one of the D’nalgne fortress worlds. I expected it to be the usual head-of-state protective detail of some prissy, self-centered, spineless politician. I was wrong.

The Princess was the most beautiful woman I had ever met. Her skin was porcelain smooth with a slight bluish hue that sparkled under the right light, just like her eyes. She was a full head shorter than myself, but perfectly proportioned and…

Hmm? No, I didn’t take her measurements!

What amazed me was her hair. Actually D’nalgne females don’t have hair. They have dreadlocks composed of soft wavy tentacles that approximate the look and movement of hair. If I didn’t know better I’d say they have a mind of their own.

I had just touched down in my cloaked ship, the Scimitar, when the Horde vanguard arrived and began their orbital bombardment of the capital. My entire team was instantly vaporized. But Combots are cheap and I had a job to do. Fortunately the Princess’ guard detachment had already hustled her out to the flight line. She did not look afraid, just determined.

“Let’s get you out of here your Highness!” I yelled over the hail of destruction obliterating her capital.

“What about my guards!?” she asked. Her voice had a soothing, resonant quality that commanded instant adoration and respect.

“I’m sorry Princess, my ship’s not large enough.”

I didn’t lie to her! The Combots fold up for storage. Stop interrupting!

She looked at me with those soft eyes, pivoted and pointed back towards the capital. “Save as many as you can Captain,” she ordered quietly.

“Well, it’s seems I’m in your hands now Earther.”

“Commander Miles Trask at your service.” I bowed slightly from the waist. Another blast hustled us quickly into the hangar and up the short ramp to my ship. It’s cloak shimmered as debris fell upon it.

“Hang on Princess!” She was already strapped into the seat next to mine when I allowed myself a surreptitious glance. Her small smile indicated she had noticed.

The Scimitar erupted from the hangar and clawed for altitude. She watched as the burning capital quickly receded behind us. Entering orbit, we flew right between the attacking Horde ships undetected.

She turned to me again and placed a data wafer in my hand. Her touch was electric. No, really. She gave me quite a jolt.

“Oh! I’m so sorry Commander! I forgot to ground myself!”

“It’s okay your Highness, really,” I said, shaking my hand and cradling my bruised ego.

Yes, I was lying then.

“I must get to this fortress world and rally my people.” Her voice was so enthralling, I barely noticed she was holding my shocked hand.

“Please hurry.”

There was nothing more in the universe I wanted to do in that moment than carry out her wish.

I fed the data wafer into the navigation computer, then made the jump into hyperspace.

“Thank you Commander.”

“Your Highness, please call me Miles.”

“And I am Saylana Tress.”

“I was fully briefed.”

“But I’m not what you expected.”

“No… you’re not.” I carefully considered my next words. She was still the leader of a sovereign state entrusted to my care. “You’re better.”

I think she turned a darker shade of blue.

“I must rest now Miles. I will soon enter the d’thrall.”

Suddenly I realized she was holding both of my hands. The cockpit of the Scimitar had never seemed smaller.

“I cannot explain it, but you must not fear.”

I pulled out the small couch behind our seats and…

Hey now! That’s not where this is going!

The closest thing I can compare it to is a cocoon, but made up entirely of her tentacles. They wrapped themselves tightly around her –

If you don’t quit it I’m going to give you another hole to put your drink in. Got it?

After exiting hyperspace her tentacles uncoiled and revealed a completely new Saylana. Her soft, delicate body now rippled with muscles. She stood a head taller than me and her voice was slightly deeper. Serrated spines emerged along her forearms.

“Now…” she said powerfully.

“My people will see our hidden strength, enter the d’thrall they have forgotten for so long and crush the Horde!”

She clapped my shoulder with a powerful hand.

“Set us down there.” I hurried to comply. After that, the rest is history.

You don’t believe me?

“Sweetheart, would you come over here for a minute?”

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2016

A very creative story Greg, interweaving all the right elements. Sad too. I liked it a lot. Great work!

Also, as this month's winner I'm happy to offer you copies of my sci-fi novellas as a prize. There is no pressure to accept.

Again, great job!

Thanks Tom! I appreciate the feedback. It did end somewhat less strongly than I had wanted.

Hi Thaddeus,

Just a short comment, although I hope to write a full blown critique. I really enjoyed your story!

Maybe he'll find Flight 19!

John wrote: "Critique - Finger of God by Justin

I liked the Moses like character of Sesom. It´s such a good story. I got the impression that you took an entire book you wrote in your head and condensed it leav..."

Great suggestion and thank you for the review! What might have been a bit more interesting is if the prince had left the planet and was in orbit or in space somewhere, but still died when the plague of the firstborn hit. Might have been more poignant. Thanks again!

Say hi to the wormhole aliens!

Brought low by your own plague!

Tom wrote: "Critique by Tom Olbert of ---"Finger of God" by Justin Sewall

In this space-age retelling of the plagues of Egypt and the Exodus of the Hebrews, the story is narrated by the Pharaoh's first-born s..."

Thanks for the great feedback Tom, much appreciated!

C. wrote: "Critique by C. Lloyd Preville of “Finger of God”, a story by Justin Sewall

This was a retelling of The Book of Exodus from the Old Testament with a Sci-Fi twist. The two protagonists, son of the H..."

C,

Thanks for this great review. I appreciate the constructive criticism. Perhaps I am not as clever as I like to think and my adaptation of the 10 plagues from the book of Exodus into a sci-fi story fell short.

When I read this month's criteria, for whatever reason that's where my mind went. My dragons also were not well fit into the story as you so hilariously pointed out.

Thanks again!

Review by Justin Sewall of “I Farsotus” by John

A messenger on an errand of mercy is waylaid by two pilots of unknown origin and motivation. Fire arms are bandied about with subtle threats of violence behind them. A fortunate meeting with a poisonous Toad Dragon come full circle with use of its deadly secretion to affect a daring escape and discovery of the truth.

The author deftly creates a pristine world that contrasts to the messenger’s polluted and plague infected world. It feels medieval yet is clearly in a future time as evidenced by the pilots, firearms and intimations of interplanetary travel. The encounter with the Toad Dragon is natural and fits within the story easily, ultimately providing the story’s final twist.

Tension is expertly built by the appearance of two strangers who clearly mean to kill the messenger and take his pouch which may or may not contain the cure for a terrible plague. The conversation between the three is clean and efficient, doing no more than necessary to bring the story to its conclusion. It develops and flows well, the appearance of pistols seeming to spell the end for the protagonist.

Poison ultimately saves the day, enabling the messenger to discover that the potential cure he carries does not work and he is to be eliminated. Kill the messenger indeed.

I enjoyed the contrast of future tech and medievalism, with cloaks and castles adding to a sense of the ancient. The inclusion of the Toad Dragon was a creative way to meet this month’s required criteria. Overall, in my opinion this was a very well balanced and well told story.

Extra story, non-competitive, critiques welcome:

Here Be Dragons

Commonwealth Jumpship Tiamat
Nadir jump point: Seltris III System
Commonwealth - Combine Border
1945 hrs

The darkness of space was pierced by the brilliant blue line of an artificial event horizon. It rapidly expanded to over a mile long, disgorged its contents, then snapped back into nothingness. In the blink of an eye, an enormous jumpship emerged and sat shimmering hazily in the light of the system’s sun, then fully solidified into a massive interstellar leviathan.

Mounted along the vessel’s hull like so many dragon scales sat the oblong-shaped dropships for transport. They carried the real firepower within their armored hulls to debouch in the target planet’s upper atmosphere. Almost immediately, three of the ovoid ships on the Tiamat’s ventral side decoupled and began a graceful dance away from its obliging partner.

“Dropships Gryphon, Manticore and Wyvern you are cleared for combat operations. Commence intra-system burn to Seltris III on our mark.”

A trio of acknowledgments confirmed readiness.

“Execute… and good hunting.”

***
The rain on Seltris III had been falling steadily for three weeks now. Lieutenant Astor watched the water claw at his Dragonhammer’s cockpit glass. Radar was a complete mess. Motion sensors were utterly useless. Astor could have been surrounded by enemy Stryders for all he knew. Infrared was also worthless in the cold rain, which easily hid the heat generated by infantry and vehicles – including Stryders. He was tempted to use the Dragonhammer’s powerful strobe light, but it would also give him away.

Ultimately reduced to squinting into the deepening black that passed for dusk, he cautiously moved his Dragonhammer forward. Heavy rain clouds never allowed more than a feeble gray light even at midday, but as night approached, they made it even more dark and ominous. Lightning danced violently down from the sky and for an instant, Astor thought he saw another Stryder silhouetted against the trees.

“Damn radio silence…” he muttered aloud.

He punched his IFF transponder several times but there was no response. Pausing at the edge of a small clearing, he slowly rotated his Dragonhammer’s torso left 45 degrees. He caught a sudden movement out of his left eye, but was blinded by a flash of lightning. Astor felt the thunder despite the armored cockpit around him.

Where is the rest of my unit! he thought to himself. Astor winced as an unnatural bolt of blue lighting lanced out horizontally from the woods opposite the clearing and incinerated a tree behind him.

“At least I’m not the only one who can’t track in this nightmare!”

He sidestepped his Dragonhammer away from where the bolt had hit. In the open, he was a huge target, but he could not maneuver easily in the woods either. His automatic tracking systems weren’t locking on to anything, so he toggled the combat computer to Manual Firing mode. Another blue bolt seared through the dark woods and scored a hit on the Dragonhammer’s right shin. Armor melted under the bolt’s tortuous effects, scourging his Stryder like some hideous plague, but it remained intact. A computer schematic highlighted this fact for Astor, but he ignored it.

Sidestepping his Dragonhammer again, Astor moved it to almost the opposite side of where he had entered the clearing.

“Can’t let him get behind me…” Astor’s forehead creased with concern, its furrows irrigated by the sweat pouring out from under his helmet.

He quickly flipped another switch on the combat computer and it queried him: Multi-tracking or Separate Tracking? He tapped Multi-tracking just as several staccato flashes, followed by multiple impacts ravaged the left torso of his Dragonhammer. Astor pushed his own firing trigger.

The Dragonhammer’s powerful strobe light pierced the wet darkness, followed a half second later by a full volley of every weapon it carried. Secondary explosions ripped through the forest, enabling Astor to finally see his attacker. A severely damaged Fire Drake Stryder leaned drunkenly against a large tree. Smoke billowed from its right torso, and its right arm hung limply towards the ground.

Astor saw the canopy hatch blow off as the enemy pilot ejected. He watched the ejection seat travel a short distance, hit a tree and vanish in another explosion. The rain rapidly extinguished it. He turned his attention back to the now fallen Fire Drake.

“The fire’s already burned off any unit insignia or House markings.” Astor lamented. He didn’t know who was defending this place, but Intelligence had sure as hell screwed up on this one.

(741 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2016