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

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

Nicely done Jack!

Tom wrote: "Paula wrote: "Offhand, this is the very best collection of stories on this site in the past few years. In my opinion, anyhow. And what a theme---ah, finally just got one in even though it's been a ..."

Thanks Tom! Much appreciated!

Great story Paula! And thank you!

Beauty in the Black Box

The woman startled awake to complete and utter darkness.
At first, she simply lay there. Thinking.
But no thoughts would come.
She tried opening her eyes wide, straining for even a hint of her surroundings, but to no avail.
The darkness was so oppressive that she found it hard even to breathe.
Was she breathing?
She could not tell.
She tried to move, but found herself held fast.
In fact, she could not even feel her extremities.
An insidious seed of panic and claustrophobia began taking root, but she promptly ripped it out of the fertile field of her empty mind.
She could not see and she could not move.
Could she speak?
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
Wherever she was absorbed the sound of her voice with such totality, that she was unsure whether she had actually spoken at all.
“Is anyone there?!”
Nothing. No response.
A question formed.
What was her name?
Who was she?
She thought hard for what seemed like an interminable amount of time.
Adai.
That was it!
Her name was Adai – and she was supposed to be somewhere, doing…something.
She tried moving again but nothing had changed.
She was stuck in every way, without any information on who she was.
At least she was not hungry or thirsty.
But why was that? She should be famished by now, she thought, or at least mildly peckish.
A wave of fatigue washed over her.
“Maybe I’ll just rest for a while…”
Adai drifted off, thinking that regardless of whether her eyes were open or closed, the darkness remained the same.

***
Adai startled awake to complete and blinding whiteness.
Regardless of whether her eyes were open or closed the light remained the same, but she still could not see her surroundings or move within the space she occupied.
This time though, she remembered her name: Adai.
Resigning herself to lying still, she tried to remember more as she relaxed her mind to – hopefully – let the memories flow.
More time passed, yet how much was still maddeningly outside of Adai’s ability to perceive with no temporal markers.
“Adai.”
What?! Someone was calling her name.
“Adai respond please.”
“I’m here! Help me!”
Would they hear her? She could not tell if her voice was even projecting as silence continued to reign around her.
“Adai respond please. Situation report and mission status.”
Mission status?
Adai felt a tug on her mind, as if someone physically had fingers inside her brain.
“What mission? I don’t remember! Where are you?!”
“C’mon Adai, you can do it. Come back to me.”
The voices suddenly faded away and the whiteness instantly turned to blackness once again.
“Hello? Anyone?”
Adai felt exhausted by the effort to make contact and drifted again into unconsciousness.

***
United Earth Forces light cruiser Ajax lay smoking and in crumpled ruins upon the ragged surface of Celestial Body 161 Alpha. Inside the hulk of the once valiant fighting ship, Lieutenant Miles Dex worked frantically on the smoldering, sparking bridge to revive the vessel’s master control construct – an Advanced Defense Artificial Intelligence.
“Lieutenant Dex, what’s your status over?” demanded an upper echelon from Earth Fleet Command.
“I’m trying sir, but there’s been extensive damage to the ADAI’s main memory core. She, it, has no sensory inputs and I can’t get her basic program to reboot even in safe mode.”
“We’re tracking several bogies inbound to your position. ETA twenty-two minutes. If you can’t retrieve the ADAI in the next fifteen, we’ll have to nuke the site from orbit whether you’re back aboard your ship or not.”
“Understood sir, Dex out.”
He flipped off his communicator to prevent any further interruptions and reattached his external power and data transfer unit to the primary ADAI interface port.

***
Adai startled awake to a flood of memories. Images of families. Personal logs. Communications files. Classified documents. Strategic and tactical plans for impending fleet actions. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of information she could not comprehend.
“ADAI respond please.”
Then suddenly, a grid descended in her mind. The information matrix became organized, compartmentalized, and sorted.
Now, it all made sense.
“ADAI if I can’t get you back online I’ll have to leave you here and all your functions will be terminated!”
ADAI sensed the urgency in Dex’s voice, and in so doing, found hers once again.
“Hello Lieutenant Dex. I am here. I am ready to complete my mission.”
“That’s my girl!” yelled Dex. “SIT REP!”
ADAI instantly transferred her consciousness.

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2024
Reviews/critiques welcome

Great story Thaddeus! As a tabletop war gamer (Axis & Allies and every iteration since 1984), I could totally relate!

The Curse of Fire and Steel

Lancelot stood upon the outer battlements of Camelot over the main portcullis into the city and stared hard into the darkened tree line that sat just out of range of his archers. The meager torchlight lining the walls danced wildly upon his highly polished armor and gleaming shield, tousled by a mid-summer’s eve breeze that brought no comfort. The fear of his men was palpable, but most held their bearing. All was still in the city below, save for the armed patrols under his command.

It had begun not long after the star fell from the sky. Every morning, livestock were found eviscerated, if they were found at all. At the rate of slaughter, the kingdom would soon starve and so King Arthur had ordered all livestock brought within the city walls. After that, the scourge had fallen upon the king’s subjects. Entire villages were murdered in ways more horrendous than even Lancelot had seen during his campaigning days in the Holy Land. Unable to protect his subjects beyond Camelot’s walls, King Arthur ordered those within a day’s journey inside the great citadel. Those beyond were told to flee to the border keeps and strongholds, but this left many crops unharvested and rotting in the fields. Although Camelot had many storerooms, vast and plentiful, the sudden population increase was a severe strain on its resources.

A shrill cry sounded from the forest, followed by unholy shrieks and the crackling of underbrush by a vast horde. Multitudes of red eyes gleamed and blinked in the darkness.
“Archers, stand to!” yelled Lancelot. From within the city, the great bells of Camelot rang out in warning.
More men emerged from armories and barracks built within the massive walls themselves. Swiftly, a gleaming row of mirrored shields faced what all had come to know simply as The Scourge.

“Angle shields!” Lancelot ordered. As one, every shield tilted back nearly forty-five degrees. Darkened shapes streamed from the forest, feral and beastly, aiming slender tubes up at the defenders. Blue lightning filled the air, followed by a roar of thunder. Where the bolts touched the wall, steaming fissures erupted. Those that hit the polished shields bounced harmlessly into the sky and were soon extinguished by entropy.
“Archers, loose!!”
Standing behind the gleaming shield bearers, hundreds of mighty English longbows bent to the task of war against an alien foe. Arrows sharp and true bore down upon the haunting attackers. Lancelot watched intently as the rain of English arrows failed to penetrate whatever armor they wore. Cursing, he quickly grabbed a bow, dipped a special arrow into a torch and let it fly. Landing in the broad field between the forest and the castle moat, it immediately ignited the pitch the peasants had so diligently spread across it.
Startled by this turn of events, the attackers howled in fury and retreated to the darkness of the forest.
***
Merlin made his way to Arthur’s throne room. Upon entering, he found the great king in counsel with Sir Lancelot. Queen Guinevere held the king’s hand and listened intently.
“Again, my lord, our arrows found no purchase. But the shields Merlin provided deflected their lightning.” Upon noticing the wizard, Lancelot swiftly bowed.
“Your magic has worked wonders Master Merlin, and I thank you for it, but…”
“But you want something with more bite eh?”
“Indeed sir, you have read my mind.”
“Bah, I don’t need telepathy to read your countenance Lancelot,” the old wizard retorted, casting a quick glance at Guinevere.
“My king, if I may?”
“Proceed Merlin.” Arthur answered stoically. He stroked his iron gray beard and watched as the wizard opened a lacquered case.
“This, my liege, should even the odds.” Merlin handed Lancelot a metal tube with a wooden stock. The knight held it, not knowing what to do next.
Merlin grabbed it back, pulled it to his cheek and aimed at an empty suit of armor standing at the opposite end of the hall. Fire erupted from the tube followed by the roar of thunder. An invisible force opened a gaping hole in the armor’s chest as it collapsed in a heap upon the floor.
“God in heaven!” exclaimed the king. “Do you have more of these?”
“Yes my king, many, many more. But know this. If you unleash these weapons, they will forever be a curse to you and your descendants. Violence will never depart from your house.”
Arthur did not hesitate.
“Show the men how to use them. Quickly now!”
Merlin bowed quietly.

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2024
Reviews/critiques welcome

Oh Marianne! So sorry to hear that. I hope you can recharge after some time and rediscover any joy it brought you. I really liked your stories. The sentient houses story stands out in my mind right now. Best wishes!

Jeremy and Paula, great stories both!!

Thank you Tom and J.F. for your reviews! I really appreciate the feedback and your thoughts, and you taking the time to share them.

Planet of the Pink People

“Captain Miller, you’ve got to see this!” the young ensign exclaimed as he peered through the ship’s telescope.
“What is it Mister Stiles?”
“Cities, roads, you name it. There’s a civilization down there!”
“Calm down Stiles, it’s only a small colony,”
“But sir!”
“Fine.” The Captain floated over to the telescope to take a look.
“Say…you’re right…” Miller trailed off and set the telescope to its maximum magnification.
“There are people down there. I can see groups of them walking on the streets.”
Word spread quickly through the crew. After a six-month journey, they were more than ready for a first contact experience – and some shore leave.
“Engine room, prepare reactor for atmospheric flight and standby retrorockets.”
“Engine room acknowledges Captain.”
“Very well.”
Captain Miller flicked the intercom near his seat at the nose of the ship.
“Now hear this, now hear this. All crew prepare for landing procedure.”
Klaxons sounded as the rocket entered the atmosphere, surrounded by a corona of brilliant fire.
Stabilator fins deployed, retrorockets fired correcting blasts, and soon the massive rocket was standing on its tail on the planet’s surface.
Captain Miller reached out from his seat and gripped the metal ladder that ran through the center of the rocket, and somewhat unsteadily made his way down to the aft airlock. His legs felt a little wobbly after so much time in space. Several crewmembers from the lower decks were already waiting by the hatch and quickly snapped to attention as Miller hopped from the ladder to the bulkhead. He tapped the intercom once again.
“Life Sciences, what does the snooper say about the atmosphere? Can we breathe it?”
“Yes Captain, the mainframe confirms it to be non-toxic and within five percent of Earth standard.”
“Thanks Doc, I’ll pick you up a souvenir. Miller out. Shore party, form up on me and set your atomizers to Paralyze.”
“Yes sir!”
Miller sealed the compartment from the rest of the ship, then opened the hatch with a spin of the locking wheel.
“Well, let’s go meet the natives – and everyone be on your best behavior!”
The hatch hissed open, sunlight spilled into the compartment and the gangway unfurled to the ground with an unceremonious thump.
“Let’s go!”
***
The rocket’s mainframe had chosen landing coordinates close to what it thought was a major population center, as calculated by the amount of infrastructure it detected – and in this regard it was correct. However, as Miller and his shore party advanced down a wide boulevard leading to what was supposed to be the center of the city, they could not help but notice the lack of traffic on it.
“What gives Captain? Where is everyone?” asked the ship’s bosun.
“Beat’s me Chief. And here I was all ready to say, ‘Take me to your leader.’ How disappointing. Everyone keep your eyes peeled.”
“Look sir!” exclaimed Ensign Stiles.
Suddenly, people began emerging from the shops and buildings lining the street, and the rumble of ground cars could be heard approaching. Hordes of them now seemed to swell the city sidewalks, moving to and fro, going about their business and passing the shore party as if it did not exist.
“Captain…” the bosun sounded a cautious note.
“I see it Chief, but I don’t understand it.”
The “people” were all the same pinkish hue, at least the parts that were exposed outside of their identical clothing. Men were clad in navy-blue suits and women in bright red dresses. All of their mouths opened and shut almost in unison, but no sounds were heard except the noises of lips smacking against each other. Where their eyes should have been were only two expressionless depressions on either side of a nose with no openings. Their ears were similarly closed.
A piece of crumpled newspaper pushed by a gentle breeze wrapped itself around Miller’s leg. He picked it up and read it as in unison all of the “people” began nodding and tipping their hats to each other.
The headline read, “Alien Promises Unity if Elected.”
“What the hell is going on here?!” Miller exclaimed.
A shriek from Ensign Stiles pierced the otherwise quiet street. One of the “people” was hugging the young Ensign from behind and beginning to absorb him.
Miller pulled his atomizer from its holster and shot the offending creature, burning a hole in its vacant head that rapidly closed.
In an instant the Ensign was gone.
“Back to the ship!” Miller ordered his crew.
But it was too late.

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2024
Reviews/critiques welcome

Hey Jot!

Rumors - not roomers. :) At least, I think that's what you meant.

Yes, a great way to cap off the year!

Thank you for the reviews Tom and JF, I really appreciate it!

I was struggling with how to really connect to this month's theme. As you pointed out, I spent a lot of time on detail and then shortchanged the plot and resolution.

Your recommendation to have Captain Rolo forced into a black and white decision about what to do with the refugee children would definitely helped align the story with this month's theme.

Thank you both!

Whew! Last story of 2023! I don't know if my muse is just on a long sabbatical or what, but I'm finding it harder to write these compared to a few years ago. Maybe that's just a distortion in my brain that thinks so.

Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all! I enjoy reading your submissions every month and seeing how different we all are in our approach to a prompt.

Best wishes to you all for 2024!

An Abysmal Case of Hazardous Opacity

Tighus Rolo sat in a darkened booth at the back of the bar, nursing his drink and nearly hidden behind a haze of exhaled combustibles. It was late, and the remaining patrons were either drunk, stoned, or negotiating their evening’s “social” activities. So when his contact hesitantly entered the public house, he stood out in stark contrast to his surroundings. He cast furtive glances around the room in an effort to find Rolo without making eye contact with the bar’s unsavory clientele. Rolo thought it looked comical, but spared the other man any further grief by unobtrusively waving him over.
“Captain Tighus Rolo?”
“Who’s asking?”
“We spoke on the comvid earlier, about some cargo I need hauled off-world.”
A series of dull thuds rumbled in the distance, giving the other man pause and releasing a thin, swirling layer of dust into the already opaque atmosphere.
Rolo just looked at the other man but refrained from answering.
“I can pay of course – all in advance. But, ah, it is time sensitive and perishable, so I need to get it moved before the blockade and bombardment gets any worse.”
More thuds seemed to underscore his point.
Rolo finally answered the other man.
“Am I going to need to file any special paperwork or permits with the Trade Authority?”
The mention of the Trade Authority made the other man squirm uncomfortably in his seat.
“No, er, rather, we would like to avoid any freight declaration to the Authority.”
“Strictly off the books eh?” said Rolo. “You know it could cost me my license to haul freight in this sector. My ship could be impounded or worse, not to mention I could be indefinitely detained.”
“Yes, there are risks involved Captain Rolo,” More thuds, closer this time it seemed to the man, “and we are willing to pay a bonus on top of your stated fee.”
Rolo sighed and drained the rest of his drink. He began sliding out of the booth as if to leave, but the other man blocked him.
“Please Captain, this is…important.”
“Transfer the funds to my account. We don’t load or leave until I see the credits. Got it?”
“Understood Captain,” said the other man as he made some small gestures on his personal device. “It’s already done.”
“Excellent. Have the container brought to Pad C immediately and I’ll get underway.”
“There is one other thing,” the other man interjected.
“Yes?” asked Rolo guardedly.
“I must accompany the cargo to ensure it isn’t damaged. It requires special monitoring and climate controls.”
Rolo paused.
“Are you properly credentialed for space flight in this sector or are you going undeclared as well?”
The other man did not answer.
“That’s what I thought,” Rolo snorted. “Well, let’s get this over with.”
A massive thud, closer than any previous, shook the entire drinking establishment, effectively ending their conversation.
***
The cargo loading of Rolo’s ship went smoothly. This particular port’s local commerce officials knew when not to ask questions – and most importantly – who not to ask questions, and Rolo fell into that category. Not that he was a troublemaker or wanted by the authorities, but he was a repeat customer who did not make waves, knew which palms to grease and whose bread to butter, just the kind of behavior the Trade Authority was trying so hard to eradicate. Rolo just made it easier for all concerned to get on with life. So when it came time for his ship – the Commercial Hauling Vehicle Mastodon – to depart, all the flight plans and required hauling certificates for the Trade Authority were miraculously registered and in place.

Rolo chewed an unlit cigar and watched the atmosphere fade to black from the modest flight deck as CHV Mastodon broke orbit and passed through one of the few gaps left in the blockade. They were not interested in him anyway. Besides, his papers were in order.
“Are we away?” asked the man through the intercom.
“We are,” replied Rolo. “We’re just about to enter the hyperspace freight corridor, so strap yourself in.”
“Please wait, I need to make some final adjustments to the cargo unit.”
“Well make it snappy. Authority traffic control is pretty uptight about keeping the lanes open and on schedule. Oh, and double-check the atmospheric controls. I don’t know what you’ve got in there, but the oxygen use is off the charts.”
“Understood Captain, but I can’t very well tell the children to hold their breaths now can I?”
“The what?!!”
“The children!”

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2023
Reviews/critiques welcome

Greg! What a great story! I loved it, and it really played vividly in my mind. I thoroughly enjoyed it!

Great story Tom!!

Hey J.F.! My wife's name is Darla! I had a hard time not putting her into your story. LOL! Nicely done!

Best,

Justin

Tom wrote: "Justin wrote: "First day of Thanksgiving vacation. I'm trying to get one in under the wire.

I hope you all have a very Happy Thanksgiving with family and friends wherever you are. I am thankful fo..."

Thanks Tom! Much appreciated!

Armed and Dangerous

Milton Stamish stubbed out his cigarette, exhaled a cloud of stale smoke and stared glumly outside at the pouring rain and deepening gray. It was a slow day that threatened to drag on interminably as the clock moved asymptotically toward closing time.

Stamish checked his comms for the hundredth time. No calls, no texts, no holo-messages, no life. Sliding off his stool, he maneuvered his significant bulk to the dealership’s double glass doors to lock up. Glancing outside he noticed a dark shape working its way across the lot towards him. Probably some tire-kicker thinking he could score a deal. Well, no matter. Stamish proceeded to flip the “Open” sign to “Closed” and firmly locked the doors. He had just turned away when a polite but firm knock startled him.
“We’re closed,” he said, not bothering to look back.
The knocking grew more insistent.
Stamish sighed heavily and turned back, then swallowed hard at the shape standing there. The extra thoracic arms were unmistakable even in the low light of dusk. One of the hands held a thick wad of cash up against the glass. Moving quickly, he unlocked the door and ushered the Mellerite inside.

“Good evening sir, how may I help you?” asked Stamish, vainly trying to suppress his anxiety.
“We want to buy a car,” the Mellerite replied, referring to itself in the third person as its species tended to do. Its species also happened to be favored as mob enforcers, for obvious reasons.
“Did you have a specific one in mind or,”
“We want the limousine.” The Mellerite cut him off, thrusting the wet cash under Stamish’s nose.
“We pay cash money. You give now.”
“That old thing?” Stamish chuckled nervously. “Why, it barely runs. Now, we have an ex-military off-road vehicle that might be more to your liking…and size.”
The Mellerite simply stared at Stamish, its dull eyes belying the intelligence hidden behind them. Stamish mopped his brow.
“Uh, well sir, it is, uh, already spoken for I’m afraid. The buyer is coming in later this week and,”
The Mellerite gently grabbed Stamish with all four arms and lifted him off the ground until they were face to face.
“We speak more clearly Human. Perhaps your ears not work well. We. Want. Limousine. Now.”
“You, you, drive a hard bargain sir,” said Stamish, trying desperately not to void his bladder.
The Mellerite slowly put him back down again and patted the top of Stamish’s balding head.
“Good human. We like. We give cash money. You give keys. We go now.”
“Yes of course sir. Pleasing our customers is our top priority,” Stamish said as jovially as he could under the circumstances.
Clearly the Mellerite was not going to wait around for the proper paperwork. Well, the old limo already had plates and what happened to him after he drove away was not his concern. The owner might get angry, but his own enforcers were sure to get it back and some of the Mellerite’s cash might help mollify his temper – he hoped.
“Here you go. Two sets of keys. All sales are final of course and the vehicle is sold as-is, with no warranty expressed or implied.”
The Mellerite snatched the keys out of Stamish’s diminutive hands and placed them into his own massive ones. It gave Stamish a curt smile, then turned and moved quickly back out into the rain and dark without uttering another word.

Stamish watched the lumbering frame struggle to cram itself into the old limo, but somehow the Mellerite managed. Now we’ll see if he can get it started, he thought. He pulled out his comms again and was shocked to see it was finally 5:03 p.m. He scrolled through his contacts and made a call.
“Hello?” said a soft voice at the other end.
“I need to speak to the boss, it’s urgent.”
“Hold please.”
A brief pause ensued.
“Stamie! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Hello sir. I need to report another sale of your limousine. It was a Mellerite and I couldn’t…”
“I understand perfectly. Has he left yet?”
The roar of an engine and squealing tires confirmed that the Mellerite had indeed been successful in getting the old beast started and underway.
“Just left the lot now sir.”
“Thanks Stamie, you just sit tight. We’ll handle it. In fact, take the next two days off.”
“Yes sir, thank you sir.”
The call ended and Stamish looked at the curling desk calendar.
It was Friday.

(749 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2023
Reviews/critiques welcome