2006 FEATURED SHORT STORY
2005 FEATURED SHORT STORY
2004 FEATURED SHORT STORY
Previously Featured Short stories:
- Running... a thriller
- A Devoted Friend .. A story
about a dangerous friend and one woman's struggle to face her worst
enemy,
herself. It's a worth while story to take the time to read.
- Vampyr ..A dairy based
off the novels by Ann Rice..
- Farewell ..Ever wonder how
you would live your life if everyone was killed and you for some reason
were spared to live out your days?
- Lynn Warden's Secret .. There
is only one way to find out..
- INITIATION Follow Matthew into
the darkness..
- Bad Awake Karen is running
for
her life.. find out why..
MAGAZINES:
BOOKS ON THE SHELF:
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The Library
The Phoenix Procedure
2003 Scott W Roberts
Fire and screams raged within, whenever he closed his eyes. Grief and
solitude were his only and constant companions. The Toran had fallen
from
the stars, and would die if he stayed any longer.
They had pulled his body out of the cryo-stasis booth's wreckage. It had
been a difficult rebirth. In some places, the fur would never grow back
fully. The planet lacked the facilities to repair his limp.
A ship sundered the clouds as it hurtled towards Doom, main planet of
the
Sargasso system and ship's graveyard of the Sumiagowi Cluster. Twisted
scrap wreathed the world's surface in metal and plastic.
Ferik stood on a rocky outcrop, gazing out at a vast plain littered with
tents and piles of debris as far as the eye could see. His clan's ship,
disassembled, was scattered down there somewhere. His clan was no
more. Canine humanoids, the Torans were interstellar traders and proud
tribal warriors. Ferik had nothing left.
At a clatter nearby, he whirled stiffly. Only a Lnar, sifting through
scrap. The spidery organic machine, programmed for self-preservation and
the task at hand, ignored him completely. Unlike the genetically
engineered humans living among the debris, the Lnar did not regard him
as
a freak. Ferik wondered whether sentience was a gift or a curse, and
envied the Lnar.
Shadows crawled as the stars-forsaken day withered. He wished he had
died
alongside his clan, when raiders had attacked their ship. Ferik had seen
only a handful of journeys as a full member of the crew. His last memory
was of taking shelter in cryo-stasis.
No, that wasn't true. His last conscious, physical memory had been of
cryo-stasis. Somehow, he had dreamed of his ship's demise and felt his
family die.
When the Sargassan salvage crew pulled him out, Ferik had tried to plug
himself back in so he could dream forever. The Lnar had torn apart the
cryo-stasis booth and eaten the parts, before crawling away in countless
directions to regurgitate into the recycling vats.
For weeks now, he had wandered the planet Doom. The natives fed, clothed
and sheltered him, but he lacked the inborn skills necessary to survive
here for very long.
Presently his stomach reminded him of his bodily needs. Even a clanless
nobody must eat. Ferik turned his back on the startling vista of metal
and
plastic, glinting under a burnished sky, and limped away.
#
The makeshift canteen held an air of rusted permanence. The very smell
of
butchered spacecraft was in the water and in the food. Ash from the
continually burning foundries coated every surface in a fine and powdery
dust. Tables and chairs made of scrap sprawled beyond the tattered
awnings.
Ferik sat alone. All the other tables were full or nearly full. He sat
near the entrance, where he could leave quickly without disturbing
anyone
any further, and toyed with his meal. It was probably reconstituted from
salvaged life support tanks.
"Mind if I sit here?"
No one had ever asked to sit with him before. In the clan, he sat
wherever
a family member invited him to. Uncertain, Ferik shrugged.
The stranger sat, immediately tearing into the meal as if
half-starved. While clearly human of some strain, there was no
indication
of age. The overall-clad woman sitting opposite the Toran could have
been
just unpacked from a millennium in cryo-stasis, so far as he knew. If
medical nanoware had been used, she could be anyone.
"I saw you on the ridge, this afternoon. You must be stuck here like
me."
Ferik blinked. "I was unaware," he said slowly.
"You seemed preoccupied." The stranger pulled a portacomp from a pocket
and laid it on the table. "Mind if I record our conversation?"
"Why?"
"I'm on my journey. Need something worth returning to Archive." She
laughed nervously. "I'm Kiryan."
"Journey? What, are you from Kastriss?"
She nodded, and Ferik felt suddenly as if the planet had turned itself
inside out around him. The ancient Kastrissian Imperium was thousands of
jumps away.
"I'm Ferik. You have my permission."
She frowned at his failure to name clan, ship and proud deeds. "So it is
true. I weep for your loss."
"My Legacy continues," he said formally. But the words rang
hollow.
The continued transmission of cultural and genetic distinctiveness from
one generation to the next is the right of every Unity League
citizen. Ferik had been born from a breeding pod deep in the belly of
his
ship. Carrying genes selected for productive service, from among the
genetic samples of and donated or traded to the crew, he had been weaned
by the Ship's Mother. Though he had never seen the Clan worlds, Ferik
could name every one of the founding families of Clanmeet.
If Kiryan noticed his tone, she gave no sign. The Kastrissian tapped her
portacomp, and a spark of light flickered in the air between
them.
"Holographic," she explained.
"Expensive," he said warily.
"Useful but starless annoying at times. So tell me, Ferik - and I mean
no
offence by asking this - what is the correct term for a clanless Toran
such as yourself?"
The clan is family. The clan is all. Without the clan, you are
nothing. The words echoed from the chasm of memory inside him. Ferik
slumped forward and buried his face in table. Emotions ached and tore
for
release. He said brokenly, "I am nothing."
Kiryan reached out her hand. She paused, debating with herself, then
rested her hand on Ferik's shoulder. After a while, she slipped her hand
down to the jagged pattern of scars on his dark-furred forearm. With her
other hand she finished her meal quietly, waiting.
When he finally looked up, it was as if Ferik gazed from the depths of
the
planet's core. There was a hint of derangement in his voice as,
regarding
the hand upon his, he said "you might lose that."
"I can always regrow another one."
"Why?"
"Because I can."
That's not what I asked," he growled.
She took a deep breath. "Why did your family have to die? Why do I want
to
speak with you? Why do you want to be alone?" She paused and held his
gaze, squeezing his hand in a surprisingly powerful grip.
Ferik lowered his gaze. "Why do you want to learn about me for your
journey?"
"This system has already been catalogued. You're far more interesting
than
the locals - and maybe, together, we can escape this stars-forsaken
dump."
"You're stranded here too?"
"Dumped by an unscrupulous freighter captain."
He scratched behind an ear. "Can't imagine why anyone would do
that."
"It was either out the airlock or perform degrading acts with the ship's
mascot. I may be overwhelmed by curiosity, but I do have my
standards." She winked. "Sticking to bipeds is one of them."
"I haven't introduced you to my clan yet."
Tense silence shrouded their table. The Toran and human stared uneasily
at
each other. Then they grinned nervously at the situation, and
relaxed.
With no brawl forthcoming, the other canteen patrons ignored the two
strangers.
They talked, late into the night. Ferik told her about his clan,
upbringing and fall to his current state. Kiryan told him about the
worlds
she had seen, life in a society where the use of cryo-stasis was not
restricted to space travel, and her circuitous pilgrimage to the ancient
Imperium world of Archive. When the canteen closed they strolled
aimlessly, guided by a hoverlamp Kiryan produced from a pocket.
Once, a ship screamed overhead on its death plunge, carving a mighty
gash
in the firmament and dashing itself into the planet's surface. There was
a
glow on the horizon, accompanied by a series of small tremors.
"I wonder if they hit any populated areas," Kiryan mused. She looked up
at
him. "Shall we go see?"
Ferik shook his head. "The flight paths are carefully controlled, and
the
landing zones evacuated. That's why everything here is
temporary."
"Still, they must have accidents."
He shrugged. "Not in the time I've been here."
"I wonder why that is."
"Training and genetics. You and I aren't designed to be here." Ferik
yawned, tired from talking. He would normally be asleep by now, curled
up
wherever he could find a place out of the natives' way.
"I'll watch over you," Kiryan offered. "Nanoware regulates my bodily
systems," she added when the Toran stared blankly at her. "I don't
sleep; I dream only in cryo-stasis. Besides, I like to watch the
dawn." There was a hint of longing in her voice.
The Toran nodded his thanks. Unable to secrete, as the genies did, a
pheromone marking him as non-salvage, he was often awoken by Lnar
dismantling attempts.
#
Ferik woke from a strange dream. He had been talking to a woman,
attractive by human standards, about the stars. For the first morning
since the death of his clan, he did not immediately want to coil deeper
into grief. He felt empty, a vessel waiting to be filled.
He shifted position - and froze.
"Good morning." She had not moved a millimetre.
No dream, then. That left only one choice. Ferik stood stiffly,
regarding
his companion warily.
"A Lnar tried to eat you. I deterred it."
He grunted his thanks. On the horizon, smoke still crawled across the
sky
from the scuttling the night before. He pointed. "That will be put out
by
the end of today. The salvage crews will move in tomorrow."
"Must be quite a sight." Wonder edged her voice.
"It is." The thought no longer troubled him.
"Do they have special fire-fighting Lnar?"
"Giant flying Lnar that drink up whole lakes and then urinate on the
flames from a great height." Certain of his internal organs chose that
moment to signal Ferik's brain their current status. Ferik suddenly had
to
go stand behind a mound of wiring and broken consoles.
The Kastrissian resisted the urge to comment on her superior physical
form. She often had to remind herself that much of the galaxy's
population
still lived according to age-old principles.
#
They drifted back to the canteen to discuss their situation over a
tasteless morning meal. The main objective was to figure out a way off
the
planet.
There was one obvious way off Doom. Space freighters were continually
landing, loading and departing all over the planet. Salvaged and
recycled
raw material was taken straight to Caristey, industrial hub of the
Cluster, to be made into virtually every conceivable product consumed by
the Unity League. The freighter crews remained on board the whole time,
never setting foot on the planet. That ruled out signing on for working
passage.
Ferik had previously considered stowing away in the cargo hold of an
outbound freighter. He had discovered two fundamental flaws with the
plan.
First, assuming he could have boarded undetected and without being
squashed by Lnar Loaders, he would have needed a life support system. In
order to do that, he would have had to salvage one before it was
stripped
out of a ship for recycling. Even if able to arrange all that, however,
he
would still be stranded.
Before a stowaway could leave the planet, they would first have to get
on
an outbound freighter. That would require being lucky enough to be
within
walking distance of one when it touched down.
"So we make our own way off-planet," Kiryan said.
"My specialty was general maintenance," Ferik said, "although I was
given
basic training in critical ship systems. While I could build us a ship
out
of salvaged parts, it would take forever. I couldn't pilot it."
"We're still adaptive. You teach me engineering and I'll teach you
piloting."
"You can do that?"
"Every Kastrissian is taught to operate a personal flyer, as preparation
for acquiring their own shuttle."
He frowned. "Where's your shuttle?"
"Probably scattered all over the surface of one of the other planets in
this system." She looked apologetic. "It was an accident."
"What happened?" Ferik was not happy with the thought of melding his
fate
to that of someone who had demonstrated questionable ship-handling
skills.
"Shot down by Pazuli auto-defence," she declared.
He stared at her. The woman had been in a Pazuli-controlled system. She
had faced the Machine Threat and survived. "I don't want to think about
what you were doing that far off Unity League trade routes. How can I be
sure you don't have an implant?"
"You can't - and nor can I." For the briefest of instants, fear
flickered
in her eyes. Then the mask returned. "We'll have to trust I haven't been
rewired. I could modify my nanoware to find out," she reflected.
"Do we have the resources for that here?"
Kiryan shook her head, dismissing the idea. "The Cluster isn't up to
Imperium standards."
Lacking any better plan, they made a list on Kiryan's portacomp of what
they needed to build a space-faring vessel almost from scratch. The
midday
meal came and went. When another ship died in the afternoon, near enough
for aftershocks to rattle their table, they barely noticed. Finally, as
the locals gathered in the canteen for the evening meal, Ferik and
Kiryan
were satisfied with their list of components.
They would set off the next morning. The first thing they needed to find
was a large clear area to use as a base. Then would come the lengthy and
hazardous scavenging, assembling their craft as they went.
Ferik stretched in his chair as Kiryan went to stand in line for the
evening meal. A small shape scuttled past, bearing bent tubing in an
upraised claw. It reminded him of the Lnar Messengers used by Clan
colonies as postal systems.
Kiryan sat down and placed the other tray in front of her companion,
before activating the taste nanoware in her mouth and starting on her
own
meal. She was half-finished with her semi-illusory feast before she
noticed Ferik hadn't moved. "Aren't you hungry?"
He shook himself. "We can reprogram the Lnar," he said slowly. "Get them
to build a ship instead of take ships apart. We need to find a hive."
#
Long ago, Torans had adapted Lnar to service their clan-trader's
life-support systems. The Lnar, Ferik explained, could be thought of as
giant insects. They designed and created specialised bodies for specific
needs. Possessing a hive-like society, the Lnar concentrated
intelligence
in a few key body-types.
Most of the Lnar on Doom were focused on finding and transporting
scrap. If a hive's semi-sentient Breeder were given a new set of
requirements, the next batch it produced would function differently. All
they need do was feed in the right data and instructions.
"That's the easy part, I take it." Kiryan started calling up ship
specifications on her portacomp.
Ferik peered at the hole in the debris mound. "We have to find a
Courier. They use them for inter-hive communications. We wait, catch one
and give it a datacube. It will instinctively take it to the heart of
the
hive, where the Breeder is, for assimilation."
Kiryan bent her attention upon her portacomp. "I'm going to give us a
basic Imperium shuttle." She detached a datacube from the portacomp and
handed it to Ferik. "I've added a list of alternate construction
materials."
Waiting for a Lnar Courier didn't take long. Chasing the small bug
around
the trash piles, and herding it away from the hive entrance until it was
captured, wore away at both energy reserves and the night. Finally, it
disappeared down the hole clutching the datacube.
Ferik gazed exhausted at the horizon, where the streak of a freighter
lifting off lit up the night.
"I know what you're thinking," Kiryan said suddenly. "You're wondering
if
you can take a Breeder, reprogram it with your own DNA, and reconstitute
your clan."
Ferik whirled and stared at her, wild-eyed.
"Don't," she advised. "They're gone. Move on."
The Toran dropped into a fighting stance. Then he snarled and stormed
off
into the darkness.
#
Over the next few days, a new generation of Lnar scurried about the
hive,
clearing an area to work in and starting to gather materials.
The two off-worlders stopped going to the canteen. Instead, they fed on
foodbars from the Lnar Feeder that Ferik had programmed the Breeder to
create. It tasted a lot better than canteen fare. He wondered why no one
on the planet had thought of it before.
Occasionally some of the locals would linger at the perimeter. They kept
their distance, staring and muttering. The off-world pair barely
noticed.
The shuttle took form with astonishing speed. Ferik pointed out the Lnar
probably had a global exchange system; hives would request Scavengers in
other areas to look out for materials their own Recyclers were
specialised
for. As the ship's systems became functional, Kiryan programmed them
from
her portacomp.
Around them, Lnar scurried implacably between junk-piles as always. It
would be no different once they left. Or would it? One of the Lnar hives
was now capable of building shuttlecraft out of salvaged material dumped
on the planet. Doom had changed.
"What have we done?" Kiryan asked.
Ferik guessed her meaning instinctively. "Secured our escape from this
wretched hole. Given other castaways a means of escape." He
grinned. "Created a potential competitor for Caristey Star
Salvage."
She shook her head. "I'm not supposed to interfere for personal gain;
not
on a journey. Can't you reprogram the Hive to stop, once we've
gone?"
"I'm not trained for inter-species diplomacy."
Before they could settle that problem, another arose.
#
"We're not going to let you do this," the grimy spokesman said. The
restless crowd at his back rumbled support. "You are tampering with
forces
you do not understand," he continued. "This disruption of the natural
order cannot be allowed."
Ferik stared. Kiryan furrowed her brow, puzzled. The rabble shifted,
revealing makeshift weapons.
"I don't see what the problem is," she said.
"The bond between genie and Lnar is sacred. Our work here is encoded as
our very reason for living. You have perverted that which was set down
in
ancient times." He gestured at the nearly completed shuttle. "This
cannot
be allowed. We will dismantle it."
"Your belief systems are aberrant," Ferik growled.
"We know our place in the cosmos. Stand aside."
Kiryan started to argue. "We don't belong-"
"That is not our concern. We act only to preserve our society, in
accordance with the Legacy." At this word, the mob surged
forward.
Ferik grabbed a metal bar and leapt atop a broken bulkhead. "I will not
remain among you," he growled.
Some of the natives backed away in fright. Towering head and shoulders
over them, his canine features seemed terrifying on a world with few
natural predators.
Kiryan produced a pen-like device and aimed it at the spokesman's
face. "Don't make me use this," she warned.
The mob descended.
Ferik laid about him with the metal bar, delivering bloodied faces,
broken
limbs and sheer terror. For a few moments, he seemed about to repel the
mob almost single-handedly. This skirmish was barely a challenge for one
whose genes descended from the Battle of Lone Star.
Kiryan was not so lucky.
A thin, intense beam lashed out from her hand a few times, blinding and
scrambling minds. While her victims would eventually recover, they would
never regain full use of their mental faculties. One would die of
madness.
Pushing her way past the drooling and shivering spokesman, a genie woman
threw herself at the alien woman. "Your Legacy ends," she spat.
Kiryan shook her head, trying to dislodge the spittle in her eye. Then
her
world seemed to overheat and turn upside down. She wavered - and
fell.
"Kiryan!" Enraged, Ferik beat a path to his companion's side. Genies
fell
back nursing their wounds or fled outright. He hurled aside the genie
woman, not caring where she landed, and dropped his metal bar. Ferik
knelt, fear ripping at him.
Kiryan shivered and sweated. "Nanoware breaking down," she said
feverishly. "Parasite, Lnar, some sort of defence system - natives must
be
immune." Her head lolled as her limbs were torn by spasms.
Ferik gathered her unconscious form in his powerful arms. Ignoring all
else, he entered the shuttle and toggled the hatch shut behind him.
There
was nothing else to do but put her into cryo-stasis.
#
He sat alone in the small but elegant bridge, as darkness crept over the
landscape outside. Feeble rays twitched dim reflections from the shiny
bulkhead contours. The instruments before him awaited only his caress,
and
he would be free of this planet.
Not he: they. Her life was in his care now. Were the cryo-stasis pod to
be
breached, Kiryan would have but a few moments of delirium before she
died. Ferik had spent enough time around Ship's Mother to know
this.
Without serial numbers and certificates the ship would be impounded,
first
port he docked at. Breaches of the League's travel charter were taken
very
seriously. Unlicensed piloting would be the least of his
problems.
He flicked a switch, making his decision.
The ship came to life.
"I name this ship Kiryan's Hope," he said. "May the stars shine bright
on
all who travel in her."
#
Kiryan's Hope emerged from the dust-laden atmosphere, and headed for the
nearest stable jump-point. Locked onto the Caristey beacon, the shuttle
departed the system in a blaze of unfathomable energies.
THE END
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