The Winning Entries for the 2012 and 2014 Writing Contest

[jen]

Fiction
Wanderer
Fiction Word Count: 1,259
Quietus
I know what I am. The darkness surrounds me, suffocating me. The iron scent clings to the air. I take a steady breath and stand. Their blood trickles down my blade, running across my hand, tainting my skin. Turning it crimson.
Exhaling sharply, I wipe my dagger on the clothe of their shirt and step back. I turn away from their crooked lips, the blood from the deathly wound creating tiny rivulets down their chest. The way their eyes staring blankly ahead, almost as if searching for something, makes me shudder uneasily. I glance up to see a spider creeping along the ceiling and an ironic chuckle escapes my throat. I suppress it and continue towards the staircase.
I could try and hide it, but there is no denying the inevitable. Whatever it may be, a past debt, a simmering quarrel, a brewing revenge, it doesn’t matter. I cast the final blow for those foolish wretches. I take their deepest sins, their hatreds for one another and I strike their foe down for them so they do not even have to lift a finger. I will kill for these strangers.
I disappear. Always, I am just a passing silhouette in the night. Wherever it may be, I fade away without a single trace. This time I slide down the balustrade, walking slowly back towards the night outside. The moon itself is garbed in shadow, the dark storm clouds rising before its light. The longer I linger, the higher the chance of being spotted.
Sliding out past the open door which creaks eerily as I shut it behind me, I fade into the darkness, disappearing into the night. They will find that one, the one I killed. They will find the lifeless eyes staring up in slight surprise, maybe even confusion. But never fear. I am too quick for that, so that they never see it coming. Those who find the body will glance up and see the cobwebs, something those vacant eyes will never see.
Raindrops patter against my lowered head, my eyes against the stone pavement. It feels like ice slicing through my face, cutting through my skin, stealing the warmth. There is not a sound but for the echo of my footfalls, splashing through the puddles, slipping over the wet, stony earth.
It’s an eery silence that cuts to the bone. I glance over my shoulder, the paranoia consuming me. Nothing but shadows dance along the stone walls, creeping daemons reaching after me with spindly fingers. I dash down the narrow alleyway, clinging to my sanity, the taste of death still hovering in the air, following me. Always following me.
Staggering to the street’s edge, I stop suddenly. I see them. They walk upon the earth as if there isn’t a care in the world. No concern for their own safety. No reason to worry. They walk along, hand in hand sometimes, the looming shadows not reaching out to devour them whole.
That child. She runs free, no great sins looming over her. They all just continue on, skipping through the muck, laughing cheerily, a false smile plastered across their faces. I want to scream out to them. Go home! The storm is raging overhead!
I glance up towards the sky. That hawk, how it hovers just below those daemonic clouds. The wind ruffling through his wings, feathers bristling in the chill. Still, he knows, and he flies onward, without so much as a backwards glance.
But beyond that, I see them. The shadows of those who live no more. Their glowing eyes haunt me wherever I turn. Their skeletal fingers reach out towards me. Reaching, always reaching.
I shut my eyes to their faces, pacing myself through the winding back streets. I must not loose my focus. I must remain calm. I struggle to breathe, trying to focus on my way. I just need to return and collect the remaining half of my pay. Though it does not seem that important anymore.
Careful. I must remain alert, poised. No one has ever dared to cheat me, and even if they had, they would not have survived it. I glance over my shoulder once more, the silence clenching at my insides. No one has seen me. No one ever has. And they never will.
My hands tremble in the chill, the wind biting at my face, driving me back into the eave of the building. I raise those tainted hands to my face, blowing to bring back the warmth. I watch as my breath mists out before me, and struggle to fight off the harsh weather that longs to take me down with it. My fingers still tingle in the cold. I can still feel the blood running down my hands. The wind howls in fury, trying all the better to get at me.
I jump in alarm, heart racing. Lightening splits the sky, the electrifying lines spilling over the dark clouds like streams of pure, white light. I feel a shiver course through me, sending a terrible chill through my chest, a tingling down my spine, and I hunch down further into the shadow of a doorway. Something cold and bright slashing across the inkblot in the sky, stretching across the horizon. The thunder, distant but always drawing steadily nearer, rumbles threateningly. It is furious that it cannot strike me down.
I slowly rise to my feet, legs trembling. I leave these looming buildings and their darkness behind. My fear propels me onward, heart racing in my chest. Lightening splits the sky once more but I ignore it. I just run. Run until the stone beneath me turns to earth which turns to mud and grass, swaying in the furious wind.
I do not stop, even when I see the angry sky set fire to a sagging aspen, branches alighting in golden flames. The ground seems to tremble beneath me. My throat goes raw from the frigid air. The tall grass clings to my boots as I continue on, as even now they reach out towards me. They pursue me wherever I run to. They will always haunt me. Always.
Tasting the bile rising in my throat, I choke and stumble into the mud. Clutching at the stitch in my side, I take one single shuddering breath right after another. The thunder booms above me in fury.
Come. Come out into the open, my child. It was foolhardy to just race off into a raging storm but I must escape them. I must. I try to rise, but I am weak. They are coming. I can feel their pursuit.
There is nothing now. Nothing but open fields rising and falling into the distance. The smoke from the tree rises in the distance. The rain will continue to rage, will continue until the wood is soaked through. It will not burn.
The rain continues to crash down all around me, and I lift my face to the grey sky. Rain trickles down face and I blink. It runs down my jaw, mixing with the tears. My voice is hoarse but I take a deep breath and screech at the storm clouds.
There is but one reply. The thunder rumbles once and is silent. The rain continues to pour down, unrelenting. I can feel the wind pulsing through the hills, but it does not knock me down. I hesitate, staggering until I can no longer support myself. I sink to my knees, retching into the tall grass.
I know what I am.
Murderer.
I know.
I am alone.
posted 3 years ago. ( reply | permalink | delete )

[jen]

Poetry
Title: The Girl
Author: Sam Violet
Word Count: 358
Leap,
Crumble,
Fall.
Curled up on stage in a ball.
A girl who breaks,
Away from the world,
Her breathing shallow.
Like her body, which lays almost hallow.
Gasp,
Pant,
Ache.
Trying to hang on for someone else's sake.
She's dangerously dangling,
Half on death's path,
And half on life's.
But she's ready to let go, she's done with strife.
Complaints,
Anger,
Hate.
Gone with the wind as soon as she accepted her fate.
She'll pass soon,
She'll leave everything behind.
She'll return death's embrace,
Once her dance and time's ticking end their fickle race.
Pirouette,
Stumble,
Fall.
Looming closer, is death's call.
She savors her last routine,
Because it's the most important,
Even though she's just a shadow of her past.
Her heart is poured into this dance, poured into her last.
Curtsey,
Tumble,
Drop.
On the floor like a ragged prop.
The curtains close,
Her blue eyes now sealed tight,
Away from a world where she could dance.
Where she let herself fall into an endearing trance.
Love,
Adore,
Admire.
Her feelings for dance like a burning fire.
Her breathing falters,
Her heart slows,
She knows her end is near.
And despite her condition, she will never shed a single tear.
Smile,
Ache,
Sigh.
She begins to tell the world her final goodbye.
At least she tried,
Tried to dance like she used to,
Even though she couldn't.
But that didn’t stop her, for it didn’t mean she wouldn’t.
Stop,
Rest,
Sleep.
Only the others will selfishly weep.
But she won’t cry, because she’s fine with her death,
She had her last dance,
And so in peace she can sleep.
Moving her limbs in dance, in dreams caringly deep.
Eternity,
Infinity,
Forever.
Her soul will carry her love for dance, never stopping ever.
A passion so strong could never be put out,
Maybe in the afterlife she'll still be twirling,
With more grace than she ever had.
And she'll be happy there dancing, never sad.
Beat,
Thud,
Silence.
She let's go and falls under death's guidance.
So she falls,
She falls,
Into a world of endless sleep.
Into a perfect world, a beautiful world of dance, of twirls and leaps.
posted 3 years ago. ( reply | permalink | delete )

[jen]

Non-Fiction
Tips for Online Debate
By Rebel Rider
1192 words
June 26, 2012
Over the years, I have read and participated in many online debates, some with very good debaters and others with very poor debaters.
Apart from knowledge, what makes a good debate and how should you try to debate so people reading the debate respect you?
Here are a few things I’ve learned from debating online. (Note: These rules are more related to public debate, not private email debate, which can sometimes go by a less strict code since it’s more private.)
1. Be respectful, even if you’d rather scream insults at your opponent. If you are respectful and your opponent is not, who do you think will appear more rational to readers?
2. Don’t let your emotions get involved. CAPITALS, especially a sentence that’s in capitals, is generally the equivalent to raising your voice. Exclamation marks are another thing to avoid since they don’t look professional. It makes you look sloppy and mad. Bold text can be used a little, especially if you’re trying to bring attention to a few key words someone else said (a Bible verse, for example) but don’t use anything in excess since it can make you appear like you are talking down to others, or you’re angry. (An article like this uses bold text to organize things, which is different.)
3. Don’t use derogatory terms for anything or anyone in a debate. Don’t call someone a nut job, stupid, or any other insult (especially cuss words) even if they think little green men from Mars shot Abraham Lincoln for target practice on their way to Venus. Instead of name-calling, use evidence and explain why you think the aliens didn’t assassinate Lincoln. If you can’t find any evidence, go do some research or stop debating because you lost. (Note that beliefs this different are hard to debate against.) 
You shouldn’t use derogatory terms for anything, even if you think the person you are debating would agree with you. There could be other people reading the debate that don’t like you calling the aliens “greenies.” People often have much more diverse opinions than you think they would.
4. Don’t use curse words. Some people are very offended by these while other people won’t mind. You want to turn people to your side, not offend them. Keep in mind that children could be reading what you say. (In some cases, you might even be debating against a kid.)
5. Don’t put labels on people. Even if a person seems to belong to a certain group, it’s best not to use the name for that group. People can consider it an insult if they know you don’t like people from that group. Another thing to remember is the person might not classify themselves in a certain group, even if you think they are in that group.
6. Don’t attack someone personally or talk down to them. This is about the same as 1 and 3 but it’s something that is very important. You are not debating to make the other person mad. You’re debating to convince them of your views, or at least convince other people reading the debate. Attacks will not help your cause; they’ll make people mad.
7. If you state your political opinion, it is wise to plan on having to stand up for it. If you don’t want to debate, keep your hands off the keyboard, and keep your mouth shut. This also goes for jokes and forward emails. My family has ended up in many debates due to these.
8. Don’t become offended easily. I’ve seen people get offended because someone respectfully disagreed. If you want to debate, you will have to learn not to show you’re offended, even when someone attacks you personally and calls you names.
9. Don’t be arrogant. If you act like you know everything, even if you think you do, it will make people dislike you. You want people to respect you. You don’t want the to cheer on the other side because the dislike your personality.
10. Remember some people with differing opinions are good friends, or even related. This is even more likely if you’re in a debate on Facebook or another network of that sort. It will not look good if you tell your friend’s kid sister they have their head in the sand. They might not agree with their relative’s political views but there’s a fair chance they won’t appreciate someone insulting their relative/friend.
11. You are an example. Many people learn how to conduct themselves online by watching others. Don’t be a bad example.
Now, I’ll try to help you win the debate.
12. Try to figure out what your opponent's comeback is going to be ahead of time. This allows you to think about your reply, and research it, if necessary.
13. If you are debating Christians, use Bible verses often as possible. These are hard to debate against. I haven’t debated many nonbelievers so I don’t know what you’re supposed to use on them.
14. Try to have a comeback for every false statement your opponent makes. If you don’t, they’ll probably think they made their point.
15. Be careful with your words, especially if you know the person you are debating is a good debater. With inexperienced people, you can normally have a few slip-ups and they won’t manage to take advantage of it but if you’re going up against a more experienced debater, you’d better use every word with care.
16. Use your own words, not an article. I don’t like seeing debaters use someone else’s words. It’s better to come up with things yourself since that will help you get more experienced.
17. 16 goes double for videos. Some people have slow internet or bandwidth limits. They may not be able to watch videos so you should not reply with a link to a video.
18. Chose your battles wisely. If you think the person you are debating has experience, you are going to need very strong evidence to come out without getting pummeled. Do you really want to fight this battle?
19. Know your topic. If you don’t know much about what you’re debating, you might want to do some research before stating your opinion on it.
20. Other people can join the debate at any time. If you’re not debating in emails, there is a chance someone could be watching. You could try going after an inexperienced debater only to have a more experienced person back them up. You should be ready to debate against a lot of people when you spout off your political opinions in public. Note: This can also work in your favor.
21. Have an escape plan. When you start debating, you may want to be ready for a long debate. If you are first to exit, your opponent will probably think they won. Some opponents, especially inexperienced ones, will not reply to your posts when they are challenged. Others will keep fighting for days, if not weeks on end. If you’re lucky, you might be able to agree on a draw in the second case. Keep this in mind when you enter the debate.
posted 3 years ago. ( reply | permalink | delete )

[jen]

The Writing Contest Winners! 2014
The Prizes will be sent out within this week. We also ask the winners for their permission to post their work up here on the Shelf so that others can read the winning pieces. This year had some great writing! For any of the contestants that would like reviews from the judges on their writing, let us know and we'll message them to you within a few days.
The Winner for the Poetry section of the Writing Contest goes to: "Country Is" by: Rebel Rider
The Winner for the Fiction sections of the Writing Contest goes to: "Song of Silence" by: J. Leigh Bralick
Thank you to everyone who participated! We had a lot of fun reading your work and look forward to next time! =)
Rebel Rider
:D
Go ahead and post my poem.
J. Leigh Bralick
Eeep! O____O
Yes, you can certainly post it! *gulp*
Congrats Reb!
Country Is
By Rebel Rider
Written after listening to “country” songs that had almost nothing to do with being country.
Country isn’t about cranking up your radio,
It’s cranking up the heater because there’s a chilled-down calf in the passenger seat.
Country isn’t about partying until the cows come home,
It’s staying home because the cows need milked.
Country isn’t about heartbreak because you got dumped,
It’s heartbreak because you had to put down your elderly horse.
Country isn’t about cruising town with a jacked up pickup truck,
It’s not getting to town because your feed pickup broke down.
Country isn’t about your loving your “baby,”
It’s watching the old cow that barely survived the winter lick of her new baby.
Country isn’t about drinking beer or whisky,
It’s watching the orphaned calf’s tail wag when it’s drinking its first milk.
Country is about traveling miles without seeing a soul,
And caring for the animals that depend on you.
Song of Silence
By J. Leigh Bralick
“You know what you’re getting into, don’t you, Song?”
I stood up from my locker, my hands full of the last odds and ends of equipment I’d meant to shove into my already over-stuffed expedition pack. Lieutenant Greeves stood behind me in her battle greys, her hands clasped behind her back and her mouth hiding a secret. Worry, maybe. She would never admit that she worried about me.
What, you don’t think I can handle it? I thought. Six days on the silent planet? Shouldn’t be any problem. After all, if there are any intelligent lifeforms, I won’t have to worry about talking to them.
That’s what I wanted to say. That’s what I would have said, if I could.
“I kn-kn…kn-kn…”
I gave up, grinding my teeth and answering with a nod.
Greeves always called me Song. Sometimes I thought she meant to mock me, but she wasn’t that cruel. The Elders hadn’t known when they named me how language would fail me, but for years now, every time I heard my name, I heard only the irony. We’d come so far, we little humans, streaking through space and marveling at the stars. And yet for all our wisdom and all our science, unlocking the secrets of the universe, they’d never found a way to unlock my voice.
I dumped the rest of my junk into the duffel and sealed it into its transport case. Greeves didn’t move, but she frowned as she watched me. I took my time, because as soon as I declared myself ready, Greeves would escort me to the launch deck and I would be on my way.
I glanced to my left, where my destination planet filled half the viewing window in a glorious curve of crimson and copper-golds, all alight from one of its suns rising behind it. Deep and vibrant greens made spiderwork of the land masses. The whole planet was a patchwork of brilliant color, a jeweled mosaic.
The planet, classification Omicron Aa orbiting the binary stars of Beta Cephei, was by far the strangest discovery our research vessel had made in recent years. It had no name—it took decades for the Council to assign names—but we all just called it the silent planet. From all our readings, the atmosphere was so thick that any sound we captured by probe was essentially meaningless. One of our sailors, a kid with far too much curiosity about Old Earth for his own good, said it sounded like a badly tuned television set—a persistent low buzz cut by bouts of scraping static.
When we’d gotten our first probe visuals of animal life, no one had been surprised to find that none of the species had auditory structures. I didn’t blame them. If the science crew hadn’t promised that the grating atmospheric noise would be completely blocked by my space suit’s helmet, I would never have volunteered. As it happened, I’d been the only volunteer. That fact, coupled with the near-zero probability that I’d actually have to use my voice, meant I would be the first scientist—the first human—to set foot on O-A-A.
“Ready, Jack?” Greeves asked, quiet now, personal.
Hearing my first name brought me out of my thoughts, dragged my gaze from the window. I turned and faced her, my heart jerking strangely at the thought of her concern.
“It’s j-j-j…”
Just six days. Six circadian days. What is that planet-side, two days?
I met her gaze and shrugged. I’d learned long ago to read the subtle play of people’s expressions—to see the exact moment their thin veneer of patience began to crack. Greeves was more patient than most, but with her I gave up trying to speak faster than with almost anyone else. Maybe I just didn’t want to see her disgust.
She pursed her lips. “We don’t know anything…” I opened my mouth, but she held up a hand. “Anything important. We know all the science. That’s not enough.”
I know what you think of me, I thought. You know I know my science. You don’t think I know anything else. You think I’m one of those idiot savants who has no knowledge of anything but formulas. You think I’m a freak.
I smiled and hoisted the transportation case from the bench. “Better me th-th-than you, right? L-l…l-l-let’s go.”
She grabbed my arm as I passed, but she wouldn’t look up at me. Her throat flashed. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“G-g-god, Alice,” I said. Somehow I never choked, saying her name. “Th-th-thanks.”
“You know what I mean.”
I pulled my arm free and strode out of the hold. Greeves caught up to me in the gangway and I let her go first. For all I pretended otherwise, my heart twitched with something like fear. Greeves was right. We knew nothing important about Omicron Aa.
On the launch deck an army of scientists from my team and ship personnel swarmed me, fitting me in my space suit, talking over each other as they asked me to confirm levels on my heads-up display (and giving up and checking them themselves before I could get out an answer), giving me instructions and warnings about the oxygen converters and comms system, injecting me with immune boosters (in case my suit lost integrity), reminding me of the surface conditions I’d have to deal with (low nighttime visibility, high gravity, lack of sound).
I was dizzy by the time they hustled me into my pod, and then I was being strapped into my seat while a countdown trickled into my muddled thoughts through the wire in my ear.
Greeves’ voice cut over the sinking numbers, “Jack Song, ready for launch.”
“Alice,” I said.
The pod lurched under me.
“Disengage,” the disembodied voice announced.
My stomach launched into my throat.
I couldn’t see a thing now but the glaring lights of the control panel. There was no sound either. Just the vague jittering motion of the pod around me, catapulting for the planet’s surface like a nightmare.
Some time later—hours, minutes?—I realized that the pod had stopped shaking. One green flicker of light pulsed at the corner of my HUD, signaling that my life support was still active. The lights of the console had faded.
The pod rocked, faintly. I could hear nothing but the determined pulse of blood in my ears, hard and fast, giving the lie to the calm I pretended to feel. My hand twitched, heavy, sluggish, grasping for the release latch.
“Song to C-c-command,” I said. My voice sounded strange, hollow in the close space of my helmet. “D-d-do you copy?”
Nothing.
“Comm systems failing,” droned the syrupy voice of the pod’s interface. “Landing sequence failed. Hull integrity, compromised. Pod to suit connection, compromised. Dr. Song, reestablish connection.”
I dragged my hand up, but in the confined space I couldn’t maneuver my arm to reach behind my head. Somewhere between launch and landing, the cable linking my suit to the pod had come loose. If I couldn’t fix it, the vessel would assume my life support had failed. It would assume I had died.
“Dr. Song, reestablish connection.”
“Song to Command,” I said again, panic forcing the words out all in a rush.
Nothing.
“Life signs unavailable,” the voice said. “Mission aborted. Self-destruct sequence initiated.”
If you think I’m dead, then who the hell are you talking to? I screamed in the silence of my thoughts. I’m alive!
I kicked at the wall but my foot moved so, so slowly. It knocked against the coffin-close panel with hilarious weakness. I must have made planetfall anyway, the way gravity fought against me. My hand finally curled around the heavy bar of the release latch, but for all I pulled, my arms moved too slowly to get enough force. I fixed my focus on the red emergency button near my knee instead.
What a damn stupid place to put an emergency knob!
I tried to hit it, missing once, twice. Finally my knee made contact and I pushed as hard as I could. The pod shuddered, sending vibrations through my body as the canopy latches released.
I don’t know what I expected when the hatch released. Wind, maybe, or something like sound. I didn’t sense anything. It felt like reaching into the vacuum of space itself, only my body was even more sluggish than in the black. I adjusted my movements to compensate for the gravity. Moved slowly, deliberately, one motion at a time.
Forcing myself to my feet required almost more strength than I had. Everything pulled me downward, and my hands were almost useless in the clumsy gloves of my space suit. Finally I made it vertical, and my spine, weak from crash-landing, promptly gave out on me. I collapsed outside the pod onto the face of the planet that no human had ever touched, and prayed to whatever god was listening that the fall hadn’t put any micro-tears in my suit.
When I didn’t die or feel my skin start to melt, I turned my attention to my surroundings. The ground was firm beneath me, glass-smooth as far as I could see. The thick fingers of my gloves sifted through a fine, heavy powder like regolith, digging deeper and deeper without any sign of hitting something solid.
I rolled onto my back, but the sight made me dizzy and I closed my eyes. It wasn’t that I couldn’t see anything, but that I could see everything and nothing all at once. Gas clouds swirled in eddies across the tangerine sky, and away to my left I could see the pale sweep of the planet’s rings arcing from horizon to horizon. To my right, one of the suns shone like a faint golden ink stain, doing its best to drive back the twilight murk. Once both suns rose—dawn lasted for six hours, from what we’d judged—the gas would be more transparent and I would be able to see more clearly.
I just wanted to see the green. If I could see that before the end, I could die happy.
After a moment I reminded myself to breathe, and I sucked in a lungful of dry, chemical-tasting air from my tanks.
Ten hours.
That’s how long Greeves said my tanks would last. I had ten hours to find a way out of this soup bowl or die trying.
I used the pod’s hull to pull myself upright, and reached above the seat to grab my transport case. Thank God the handle was as big as it was, or my fingers would never have been able to wrap around it. I tugged, hard, bracing my boots against the pod and grunting as the case shifted forward. Finally gravity came to my assistance and the case crashed down beside me, narrowly missing my foot........

[jen]

.......To keep panic at bay I focused on setting up my probes—as long as I was stuck there, I could at least get some readings. But suddenly the hair on my neck prickled and I jerked my head up. There in the murk was…something. A dark blob where a moment before there had been nothing at all. It stood maybe fifteen feet from the pod, but I didn’t trust my eyes to judge the distance accurately.
The something shifted, shrinking until I almost lost sight of it. Then it reappeared, this time so close that even the murk of the atmosphere couldn’t hide it.
I stared.
The purely human part of my mind screamed at me to get back, to reestablish distance until I could determine the thing’s nature, but I ignored it. The scientist in me just stared with a curiosity strong as hunger.
The creature stood about a foot shorter than me. I expected it to have a short, squat body due to the gravity, but instead it was almost skeletally thin. Its skin held a dull gleam, almost metallic—more exoskeleton than skin—and its four limbs were all triple-jointed, each one with three appendages that stuck claw-like into the ground. If it had a face I couldn’t see any features. For all that, I had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that the creature was staring at me with as much surprise as my own.
My hand groped for the sidearm Greeves had issued me before I launched, though I didn’t have much hope that the thing would actually fire in this murk. The creature stirred, its head-like appendage tipping down to regard my hand. I swallowed. I half-expected it to attack me, but it only returned its attention to my helmet.
Fantastic. What am I supposed to do now? Ignore it? I can’t even talk to it. How am I supposed to know if it’s even intelligent?
In the end I just went back to my probes, stirring them to life and watching the feedback on their screens. One started blipping red, an atmospheric warning.
No shit the atmosphere’s not compatible with my lungs, I muttered in my thoughts. Why do you think I look like a walking marshmallow?
Probes set, I shifted my attention to the pod. The thing was mutilated, but if I could salvage the comms system, maybe I could get back in touch with the Curiosity. Maybe…if they were even listening for my relay. Maybe they’d already given up and moved on to the next system.
No time to worry about that now; I’d keep trying until I couldn’t. The self-destruct sequence had switched off all power, but if I could patch the relay directly into the power that was keeping my suit’s life support active…it might just work. I’d have enough power for one shot, then…
I mentally ran through some calculations, and cold nausea twisted in the pit of my gut. If I used as much power as I thought I’d need for one comm blast into space, it wouldn’t matter if I had fifty hours’ worth of O2 in my tanks. I’d only have power left for three.
Three hours with a prayer of survival versus ten without. There really wasn’t a choice.
I pulled the comm board loose and got to work, keeping an eye on the creature sitting on its haunches nearby, its triple-jointed legs contorted weirdly under it. With its forelimbs no longer planted in the regolith, I noticed something strange—its fingers shifted continually between claw-like blades and fluid, flexible structures that rippled sporadically. There seemed to be a pattern to its movements, but I couldn’t determine what it meant.
I set up a cam on my transport case to record the thing’s behavior. Once I was safely back on the ship, I’d love to have the data to analyze.
“S-s-song to C-c-command,” I whispered into my helmet, practicing. If I had one shot at a plea for help, I needed to be sure I could spit out the syllables before the link died. “C-c-come g…get me.”
From the corner of my eye I saw the creature move, canting its head to the side. Its fingers rippled at me, stiffened, and flexed again. My hand drifted toward my sidearm. Maybe it was threatening me. I wished I knew.
It crept a few steps closer, planting its forehands on the ground and craning its neck to peer at me. This close I realized it did have eyes. They were shielded behind a thin grey film, likely an adaptation to the noxious atmosphere. The film covered its whole head like a mask, even the narrow gap I assumed was a mouth, which made me wonder how it ate.
“S-s-stay back,” I whispered, knowing it was pointless—my helmet had no speaker, and it was designed to cancel sound.
I held up my hand then, the universal gesture for back off. The creature halted. It didn’t back away in fear, and it didn’t look aggressive, so it must not have seen my movement as a threat. Satisfied that it wouldn’t come any closer, I turned back to the comm board. One chance. I had one chance to get this right.
Then, for no reason, my fingers slowed and my head started pounding, reeling under an intense pressure. I sucked in a breath—was I remembering to breathe? Was my tank malfunctioning, feeding me toxic air?
The creature shifted. It didn’t come closer but leaned toward me, and I swore I sensed intelligence behind its stare. And all at once—I don’t know how—I realized that it was the creature who was causing the pressure in my head. I scrambled back as it lifted its hands, fingers rippling.
That pattern. There was definitely a pattern. What was the creature doing?
I shook my head and, drawing the deepest breath I could, slammed the comm board’s switch. Static scraped across the emptiness. I tipped my head back to the sky, as if somehow that could carry my voice to the stars.
“S-song to C…Command,” I said, forcing the words out as steadily as I could. “D…do you…copy, ov…over?”
Nothing.
Then a man’s voice: “This is Command. What is your situation, Dr. Song?”
I bent over my knees, steadying my breath so I wouldn’t sob over the comm link.
“I c-c…I c-c…”
“Song, we didn’t copy that last transmission. Please repeat.”
Repeat it? You didn’t even give me a chance to get it out the first time!
“I cr…crashed! G-g…get me out of here!”
A brief silence, then, “Dispatching life boat now. Receiving location…Don’t cut the comm link until we give you the okay.”
“T-t-two minutes!” I shouted. “C-c-comm dies in t…t…”
“You’re breaking up. Repeat last.”
It wasn’t my voice that was breaking up. I caught the static over his last transmission, and in the thick padding of my space suit my body shook with fear like a fever.
“I’ve g-g-got one hour of Oh-T-t-two left.”
I glanced at the creature as I screamed at nothing. I wondered what it thought I was doing. It stretched one long forelimb out, sweeping it in slow, rippling movements toward the rising suns. The pressure mounted in my head, twisting like visceral fear, like the certainty of impending doom.
“G-g-get me the hell out of here!”
“Dr. Song, please remain calm,” the voice said. “Rescue is inbound.”
I tilted my head back and stared at the murky sky, searching for some sign of the rescue pod.
“You will have five minutes on pod’s landing to extract. There’s…” His voice died, and I just prayed that the link hadn’t broken.
“Jack?” a blessedly familiar voice said.
“Alice!”
“Listen. There’s a solar storm on Beta Cephei A. That radiation will cook you like a sunbather in a nuke strike, so as soon as that pod lands, you’ve got to move. Understand? You need to be airborne in six minutes. Do you copy?”
“C-c-copy that.” I scrambled back to my equipment, watching the creature watch me. “How c-c-close? I c-can’t carry all th-th-this shit!”
“You’ve got to leave it,” Greeves said. “Just get out. You should have visual on the pod now.”
I scanned the sky. There, just right of the planet’s sweeping rings came a streak of pale golden light, larger and larger.
“Jack!” Greeves shouted. “Just stay in—”
Her voice cut off, and I didn’t even have static to break the silence.
The pressure in my mind turned suddenly to pain, sharp and unrelenting. I swung around just in time to see the creature spring at me. Its arms flung wide, the skin of its exoskeleton flaring out like massive wings.
I shouted, bringing up the sidearm as the wings beat around me like a cocoon, a wall between me and the dazzling brightness billowing up like a sandstorm in the near distance. The creature’s body slammed into mine, the gun kicked in my hand. Scorching heat tore through the air all around us, but the creature had a death grip on me and wouldn’t let me fall. Then, slowly I felt the pain in my head fading, drifting away under a numb sickness…a twisting, soul-screaming ache that could only have one name.
Sadness.
As the air stopped pulsing around us, the creature’s arms slipped away from me. It slid down onto its haunches, its rippling fingers stirring restlessly over its stomach. Over the hole in its stomach, the gaping, ragged hole left by the blast of my sidearm.
I stared, sick with shock.
I didn’t…I didn’t mean…
My thoughts stuttered as uselessly as my tongue. In the back of my mind a timer counted down my minutes. A corner of my thoughts registered the fading curls of heat glimmering over the earth. But none of it made sense.
The creature suddenly stood straight, ignoring the murky fluid that bubbled from its wound, and stretched out its rippling fingers. I winced, but they moved gently over my helmet, tapping over the glass shield like feelers. Sorrow saturated me, regret…and more painful than all of it, forgiveness.
The creature’s eyes held mine behind the film of its mask, then it turned, one hand dropping to my shoulder. The other pointed toward the sun, then swept down toward a dim shape hulking nearby in the murk. The rescue pod.
Oh God, I thought, swallowing bile. Oh God. It’s talking to me. It was talking to me all along, and I just didn’t listen.
The creature sank back down, bracing itself on its forelimbs, bowing its head. I swallowed, hard, and reached out to touch it. It fell to the ground like stone.
* * *
The rescue pod launched with one minute to spare. I’d left all my equipment but my cam device, and now, safely strapped in my seat and headed for the stars, I cradled the thing to my chest. Through the pod’s external cameras I watched the planet drifting away, a patchwork of vibrant greens marred by a long, irregular blotch of scorched grey earth where the pods had landed.
Over my head the ship’s interface droned approach procedures, countdowns, a bland recital of my life signs. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t have to. It was a rescue pod, after all.
The pod shook and came to a jarring stop, and bright, glass-sharp light poured into the pod. Sound came rushing over me, muffled at first, tightening to painful clarity as someone pulled my helmet off.
Greeves was there above me, her face white with fear.
“Oh God, Jack, you made it. Are you all right? When we lost the comm link I was sure… How’d you survive the blast? I tried to warn you the ship’s engines would scorch the air, but we lost the link. You lucky bastard. Jack! Are you all right?”
I barely felt her shaking me.
“I…I…”
She shook her head and pulled me out of the pod.
“Alice,” I said. “D-d…don’t think m-m-my speech…”
She stopped in the middle of marching me across the bay to the infirmary, turning to face me with a puzzled look. I drew a breath and tried again.
“D-don’t think it m…means I d-d-don’t un…understand. Y-y-you think I’m…m…I’m st-st-stupid. I’m not. I do understand.”
“Jack, you idiot,” she said, pulling my head down and kissing me long and hard. When she let me go she held my gaze, her face so close to mine I could see all the brilliant shades of green in her eyes. “So do I.”
Karin
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