Flash Fiction Friday Post: Warrior Defeat

UNSC Army Soldier by Lordhayabusa357 via www.DeviantArt.com

UNSC Army Soldier by Lordhayabusa357 via www.DeviantArt.com

Ensign Zara Slater took off her helmet and wiped the sweat. Three days she’d been in her stinking battle armor but it didn’t look like she was going to get relief anytime soon.

“What do you see?” Corporal Masi Waters checked his weapons belt, counting the number of HE bombs, gas grenades, and smoke bombs he had left.

She slid down the rock they were sheltering behind to sit beside him. “Bomb craters everywhere. You could hide a battalion out there and we’d never see them.”

“Crap.”

“Yep.”

The corporal checked the charge on his laser rifle. “You got anything left to eat?”

She coughed. The smoke rising from the blasted landscape was scraping her throat raw. So much for fresh air. “No. I split the last food bar I had with you yesterday.” Zara sipped from the nipple coming up out of the collar of her armor. The suit captured her sweat, distilled it and stored it around her body until she drank. It tasted flat and warm but it at least wet her dry mouth.

“We have to get back to the cruiser. The Captain sent us out to recon, at least one of us needs to get back with the info.”

“What for?” Masi rubbed an eye. Neither of them had slept in twenty-four hours.

“Because that’s what we do.” On board the ship there would be no talk of “what for” but out here, separated from the rest of their command, things didn’t look all that good. “We’re fighting for our rights, you know that. To keep people safe.”

He snorted. “Safe? Tell that to the people who used to live here. We bombed the crap out of this planet because someone told someone else who then issued orders to wipe the place out because the Mords were supposed to be here.”

“Well,” she said, the tired seeping up through her bones. “They are here. In numbers.”

“Fine.” He jammed his helmet back on his head and seated it. “Let’s get on with it then.”

She sighed and put her helmet on. As soon as she sealed it, the displays reconnected and a series of status updates appeared on the inside of her visor. Ambient temperature, wind direction, humidity, appeared in the upper right corner of the screen. She clicked the infrared and red hot spots showed in the area all around her and the corporal. Mord soldiers, a lot of them. Another click and she pulled satellite information for the area. Her battle cruiser was five clicks in front of them. Symbology on the map told her where the Mord concentrations were. There didn’t seem to be any way through to the ship.

“Sending you the overhead.” Zara clicked once more.

“Got it.” After a moment, “Crap. How the hell are we going to get through?”

“I was hoping you’d see something I missed.” She studied the map. “If we go left, there seems to be an open area, no heat signatures. That would put us a klick closer and maybe something will open up by the time we get there.”

She could hear a sigh over the comms. “Yeah, why not.”

Zara crept out from behind the rock and moved with as much stealth as possible. The battle armor was coated with stealth materials but that didn’t stop a pair of eyes from seeing her. They were both breathing hard when they dropped behind the broken wall of some building still smoking.

“Is it worth it?”

“What,” Zara answered.

“This info. If they don’t know the Mords are here they don’t deserve to be in command.”

She was too tired for this. “It’s all I’ve got.”

Another look at the map and she thought she saw a way through. She shared the updated map. To the east, it looks like the Mord are maneuvering.”

“I don’t see anything on the map that looks like our forces. Maybe they’re getting ready to attack the cruiser.”

Zara wished she could call them but the Mord would pick up the transmission and use it to find them. “They must see this, too.”

“Where are all the other recon teams? We could hook up, strength in numbers and all that.”

“Unknown. Let’s move. We’ll follow the Mord. That will at least get us closer to the cruiser.”

After a klick Zara was exhausted. After two, she was pulling on her reserves. At three klicks they were both stumbling like drunks. “Rest,” she gasped.

“One more klick,” Masi groaned. “Can’t we call them to come get us?”

“Not yet. We’re still too far out.” She sipped more water. Jets screamed overhead leaving white contrails in the blue sky. If they were scanning, she and Masi were already dead. “Gotta move.”

He groaned but rolled to his feet.

They were less than half a klick from the cruiser when the Mord began their attack. The ship was surrounded. They dove into a ruined basement for cover. “What can we do?” Masi sighted his laser rifle on a passing squad.

Zara pulled the barrel down. “Don’t. You’ll kill four or five and we’ll be found.” She heard him mutter under his breath but he put the rifle down.

They watched as their ship was pounded from all sides. It was full dark and the glow of fire from the ship lit the night sky in front of them.

“Hold still,” they heard behind them.

Masi twitched. Zara put a hand on his arm, holding her rifle out to her side straight armed. “Take it easy.” She dropped her weapon and raised her hands. Beside her, after a moment, Masi did the same.

“Take two steps back and turn around. Slow.”

They did.

“Kneel down, fingers clasped behind your head.”

They did that too.

“You are now prisoners of war. Prepare yourselves for the camps.”

Zara sighed. No one ever came out of those alive.

 

 

The End

983 Words

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Flash Fiction Friday Post: Loathsome Sport

Polo, Horses, Mounts, Men, Players, SAMLIM

The Polo Player by SAMLIM via www.DeviantArt.com

The air was just breathable.

Captain Jenkins and I stood at the side of a large field, the aliens arranged in ranks around us as though at a soccer match. Not that they had jerseys. Their scales changed color, apparently at will. On our side the natives had all changed to a purple-fuscia color that rippled from dark to bright and back again as they gurgled and hissed in rhythmic ululations. The opposing side was in lime green and lemon color. Their sound was of the ocean, a low rumble that morphed into a hissing crash. Danged if I knew how they did it.

The Captain pressed a finger to his ear piece. “Keep a scan on the whole crowd. I want to know if anything seems wrong.”

I felt the sonic vibrations of the two sides. It was as though they met in my chest and churned. I asked, “Sir. What if things go wrong?”

He snorted. Not a good sign as far as I was concerned. “Then we’ll take it like men, Jordan.”

Since I was a bit behind him he didn’t see me roll my eyes. Always the drama queen, the Captain was. I didn’t really fear. The security force hovered above us in stealth mode. These aliens didn’t have a clue that they were there. But the chanting from both sides seemed intense and, to be honest, my last visit home for the local soccer team championship sounded quite a bit like this. Twelve people died in the rioting. I didn’t want to be an alien statistic.

“Jordan, keep an eye on the other side. The Most Holy told me in audience today that there might be trouble.”

“Aye, Captain.” What else could I say? The Most Holy seemed to me to be a psychopath. Last news I had was that he exterminated then burned the northwest quadrant of his land because he thought there was an earworm invasion. I wondered what story we’d have heard from the Premier on the lime green-lemon colored Teepar continent. After all of the reports, I’m thinking we should have landed in the other hemisphere.

After a long interval of confusing parades and discordant horn blowing, the teams lined up on opposite ends of the field. Each alien was astride an eight-legged beast that looked all the world to me like a cockroach. They held mallets that were curved, quite elegantly to say the least, and ended in a cupped blade.

It looked to me as though the cupped blade would hold a ball quite well. Hence, when the Grand Marshall trotted to the middle of the field on his cockroach painted in red and black, I was unprepared to see a lime green and lemon colored ball tossed onto the middle of the field.

The Grand Marshall rode up, bowed and pointed his spear at the Captain. There was some squeaking, the Captain’s translator must have handled it because I saw him go pale.

“I’m sorry,” he told the Grand Marshall. “That is outside of our mandate to refrain from interfering in other planet’s politics.”

The Grand Marshall hissed. I don’t know how that translated but the Captain turned to me. “Jordan. I have to do this. Turn on your body camera if you haven’t already done so. Record everything and get back to the ship, no matter what.”

Well that didn’t sound good. But I watched him take a cloth, purple-fusia, from the Grand Marshall and put it on. He hauled himself onto the cockroach with no elegance but once atop the beast looked as though he’d been made for the task.

I double clicked my tongue against my upper pallet to activate the recording. My Captain was being brave beyond the call of duty and as second in command, it was up to me to document every moment.

He kicked his mount in the sides and with awkward sawing, managed to get the beast to the correct side of the field. The Grand Marshall sounded what looked like a conch horn but to be honest, I was too far away to see clearly. Captain was trying to control his beast when there was a horn blast fit to blow out the ears of any creature.

The cockroaches, and really, I have no other way to describe the foul creatures, leapt forward. The Captain was nearly unseated but managed at the last second to right himself and lean forward, low over the carapace of his mount.

I saw the lime-lemon ball being batted with those hooked sticks, back and forth at the far end of the pitch. It rolled erratically. Under inflated, I thought. Captain began to maneuver his mount with some skill. He was a horseman on Earth. I suspected he was bringing to bear some of that skill though how a cockroach compared was beyond me.

The ball bounced downfield toward our side’s goal. The alien crowd made sounds like the hissing of an overheated tea kettle. The Most Holy stood up in his box as the ball crept ever nearer to his team’s goal. I worried for the Captain, involved in a game he didn’t expect to be playing in. What if the team lost? Would the Captain be blamed? I muttered quick instructions to the cloaked ship above.

At the end of the field, near the Most Holy, I watched as the ball neared. Several hard blows had sent it my way. As it rolled to a stop, the coverings came undone. The ball was the head of the opposition envoy. I gulped. The Captain rode up and with the stick, smacked the ball back into the middle of the pitch. He signed me. I spoke quickly and with a twinkle, he and I disappeared from the grounds.

On the bridge, he still wore the colors of the Most Holy. “Jordan, quarantine the planet. They’re not ready for admittance just yet.”

“Yes, sir.” I jotted notes on my epad. I wrinkled my nose. The Captain smelled of cockroach.

The End

722 Words

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Merry-Go-Round Post for May: In Memoriam or My Favorite Stories

Books, Library, Connie Cockrell

Books in my Library by Connie Cockrell

I was a pre-teen when I discovered science fiction. I was a reader before then and not the easy stuff either. I read Gone With the Wind when I was twelve. I wonder now what the librarian who checked out the book for me thought but she never said a word about the appropriateness of that title for a 12-year-old.

My first SciFi authors? E.E. “Doc” Smith, Robert Heinlein, Issac Asimov, and Arthur C. Clarke, all sadly gone now. No one told me that those books were for boys. I read through them avidly and reread them over and over. If you haven’t read Doc Smith’s the Lensman, it can be kind of dated but the last book in the series really shows women in a strong light and the ultimate conclusion must have been controversial at the time. Probably still is. No spoilers, read the series.

Then I found Andre Norton and Anne McCaffrey and Mercedes Lackey, who is thankfully still with us. As a retired USAF Master Sergeant, military SciFi really appeals to me and Elizabeth Moon’s books are a delight to read as are C.J. Cherryh’s. You can tell from the author list that I’m as comfortable with the hard SciFi as with the softer SciFi and fantasy. I love them all.

But it’s not just SciFi, mystery is also a favorite. Who hasn’t read Miss Marple by Agatha Christie, or Ellery Queen or Dashielle Hammett or Raymond Chandler, even Issac Asimov wrote mysteries. Modern mystery authors range from Dan Brown and Steven King to Mary Higgins Clark and Robin Cook. So many delicious tales from cosy’s to hard-boiled detective stories.

There are so many books out there and really, so very little time. I hope I’ve mentioned an author or a book that piques your interest. Go to your library and pick up something you haven’t tried before. I think you’ll like it.
The Merry-Go-Round Blog Tour is sponsored by the website Forward Motion (http://www.fmwriters.com). The tour is you, the reader, travelling the world from author’s blog to author’s blog. There are all sorts of writers at all stages in their writing career, so there’s always something new and different to enjoy. If you want to get to know the nearly twenty other writers check out the rest of the tour at http://merrygoroundtour.blogspot.com!  Up next: Jean Schara

Flash Fiction Friday Story: Stowaway Annie

Connie the Kid - School Photo

Connie the Kid – School Photo

Crewman Sharif Vega put his duffle on the carry cart with care. Then he piled a case of Centauri Blood wine, a crate of fresh binga fruit and a box of cleaning detergent around it. He rolled it through the crowded spaceport and onto the monorail that carried passengers and crew to their desired gates. He got off at Gate D32 and rolled the cart to the desk.

“Hey, Lyn,” he greeted his shipmate at the desk as he maneuvered the cart around the desk. “I have some last minute buys for the ship.”

Lyn checked her electronic pad and nodded briefly as she scanned the items on the cart. “Great. I love binga fruit. I’ve checked you in, Sharif, go on in.”

Sharif wiped his hands on his ship suit and gripped the cart handle. He had been sure Lyn would ask about the duffle. He sped down the access way and into the ship’s entryway. The fruit and wine went to the galley, the detergent in the cleaning locker and he hurried along the corridor to crew quarters.

He lifted the duffel and carried it into his cabin. Sharif put it on the bed and unzipped it halfway. “Are you comfortable enough?” He peeked into the bag.

“I’m fine,” a small female voice came from inside the duffel.

“Stay here. I’ve got work to do but I’ll be back in awhile.” He pulled the zipper nearly closed and left the cabin.

It wasn’t long before the ship lifted off and jumped into hyper space. When they came out the Captain said over breakfast, “There’s a forty kilo discrepancy in the mass of the ship. Sharif, after you take over the freight console from Hawk, check the records of the freight we on-boarded on Centauri. Either the canisters were mislabeled or one of the readers made an error.”

Sharif nodded, eyes downcast. He couldn’t look the Captain in the eye. “Yes, sir.”

“I know it’s a small error,” the Captain told the crew around the table. “But I don’t want it becoming a big error. Find out the problem.”

The whole crew nodded. Sharif choked down his coffee and hurried from the galley. An hour later, he excused himself from the bridge and knocked on the Captain’s cabin door.

“Enter.”

The Captain was in his sleeping robe at the small desk. Sharif could see the manifest on the Captain’s pad. “Sir, I need to talk to you.”

Captain Teigen looked up. “You found the discrepancy?”

Sharif shuffled his feet. “In a way, Sir. Yes.”

An eyebrow rose. “Spit it out, Sharif.”

“Well, Sir,” Sharif began to twist his hands together. “You know how on Centauri the vids were full of reports of a search for a criminal’s grand-daughter?”

The Captain sat up. “I remember.” His tone of voice went level.

“The girl found me. Asked for help.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, thought better of it and pulled them out again. “I didn’t know who she was, at first. Just another beggar kid, you know. They’re all over the place.”

Captain Teigen’s eyebrows drew together.

Sharif licked his lips, then pulled himself up, squaring his shoulders. He blurted out. “I smuggled her onto the ship.”

“You did what?” The Captain’s voice went hard. His eyes bored into Sharif.

“They were going to kill her, Captain. You know that. All for some minor infraction her grand-father made. They kill the three generations, over some law that would just get a fine on Earth.” He twisted his hands again.

“Bring the girl here.”

Sharif nodded and dashed out of the door. When he got back, the girl in tow, the Captain was dressed.

“Captain, this is Annie, ten years old. Annie, this is Captain Teigen.”

The blue-eyed, blond girl stared up at the Captain. She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Sir.”

The Captain’s eyebrow twitched but he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Annie. You present me with a problem.”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.”

A glare was shot at Sharif. “You have put me and the ship in a very difficult situation, Crewman Vega. We could be banned from Centauri, a very lucrative freight run for us. I could lose my ship for kidnapping a child from another planet. We could all be sent to prison.”

“But, Sir. I had to help. It’s not right that they were going to kill her for something she didn’t do. They don’t care about her, why should they care that she came with us. I didn’t kidnap her, Sir, she came willingly, to escape a death sentence. There must be a regulation for that?”

Teigen’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t go space lawyer on me, Vega. You’re in enough trouble. Get the girl a cabin and fed. Then you’re on report. You do your job during your duty hours, eat, and go to your cabin. That’s it. No rec time. Only the minimum gym time.” He turned Annie. “You may go to the galley to eat, work out in the gym, participate in any appropriate recreational activities. You are not allowed in any working spaces, the bridge, engine rooms, any other location that a passenger has no business being in. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir. I understand.”

“Good. Take care of it Sharif. Get out.”

The Captain and the Exec spent the next four hours going over System Law. They finally found a clause that would allow Annie to escape Centuri without bankrupting the ship. They turned her over to Child Protection on Minataur. Sharif hugged her at the access way, the assigned mentor watching. “Good luck, Annie.”

“Thank you, Sharif. I’m sorry about the trouble I got you in.”

“No worries, girl. Good luck on your new planet.”

“I knew you were the right spacer to approach.” She shook his hand. “Call me when you come back.”

“I’ll do that.”

He watched as the mentor took her hand and left for her new life.

 

 

The End

990 Words

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Flash Fiction Friday: The Vipers

Female Soviet Snipers, himymRobinStinton, Deviantart.com

Female Soviet Snipers by himymRobinStinton via Deviantart.com

 

I thought of this story one day when I read an article about Soviet Army women sharpshooters from World War II who were called The Witches.

The Vipers

It was graduation day. Katarina had spent the last year in training for this moment and now it was here. The graduation was secret, as was her training. No one must know about the mission she had volunteered to assume. She and the other women in her training squadron checked their appearance one more time then lined up in alphabetical order to march single file to the auditorium.

They were the last fourteen of a class that had started with one hundred young women aged sixteen to twenty-five. They marched down the corridor from their dorm, the only voice was the woman at the head of the line giving orders for the turns. They made those turns with precision, just as they had completed their assignments. The final exam was the real test, of course. Six of the young women who had made it this far in their training failed that last test.

Katarina was in the middle of the group of fourteen. They marched out onto the stage, made a left face upon command of the first young woman, and held her head high, eyes forward. She could see a handful of people in the audience. The Forces Commander was there, as was the Chairman of the Department of Homeland Security. The Base Commandant and the Cadre Training Sergeant were on the stage with the women, standing at a podium.

After a few introductory remarks, the Commandant nodded to the Training Sergeant who pressed a button on the remote for the holographic projector. There, between the graduates and the dignitaries, was the record of each recruit’s final exam.

Each one of them had been given a different target. Katarina knew better than to reveal any emotion as she watched the tests of her friends. They had pledged themselves to each other, calling themselves The Fourteen, last night as the vodka flowed freely in the rec room. Each of her friends had been given just as difficult a target as she had. When her recording was played she began to sweat, heart rate racing. It felt just as if she were back there. Katarina had been allowed two weeks planning time, budget to scope out the site, and a case handler, just as for a real mission. She remembered the smell of jasmine in the night air from where she waited for her target. The shot was a long one, the limit of the weapon’s beam range, but the humidity in the air and the fact that there was no breeze made her believe the shot could be made.

Mosquito’s buzzed her head, attracted to the carbon dioxide she released from deep, slow breaths. She remembered telling herself to slow her heart rate, relax her muscles, rest her eyes. There would only be one chance. Even if she managed to escape it would be useless if she missed her target. She would be denied graduation and be sent back to the regular ranks, cannon fodder for the rebel front lines.

As she watched the recording play out she remembered watching the delegation’s air cars land on the roof of the building down the street. The men on the roof moved toward the air car, lining up on either side of a red carpet. The city’s mayor was at the car’s door, opening it, bowing as the War Lord descended the air car’s two steps. The rooftop was lit clear as day as Katarina peered through her scope. She took a final, relaxing breath and placed her finger on the trigger.

The crosshairs fell on the War Lord’s cranium. She had a perfect view of the side of the orange-scales that decorated the side of its gold-skinned head. The creatures all had them, right over where their brains resided inside of their skulls. The War Lord stopped to say something to the Mayor, still bowed. She applied just enough pressure to fire her weapon without any jerk that would throw off the beam.

It took a moment before she could see if she hit it. The tracking ionization for the beam had been disabled so it couldn’t be seen. Through the scope she could see the creature’s head explode, brain, skin and bone showered the Mayor. The War Lord’s body guards surrounded their leader scanning in every direction for where the shot had come from but it was too late. Katarina wrapped her weapon in rags, stuffed the rifle in her bag and hurried from her rooftop position. On the street she looked like any of the thousands of human women combing the refuse piles for food or tradable debris.

Katarina barely saw the rest of the recordings she was so lost in her own memory of the satisfaction she’d had at killing the War Lord. The Training Sergeant called them to right face. Her body obeyed automatically. The Commandant took the podium.

“We are here today to congratulate these recruits for surviving the rigorous training program of the last year. Of the one-hundred young women who started, thirty-seven died in training. Twenty-three were medically discharged from injuries and the remainder washed out of the program or resigned. These are the best assassins in their class. Congratulations, soldiers.” The dignitaries stood and applauded as did the Commandant and the Training Sergeant.

Their names were called one by one, a sharp-shooter medal was pinned to their chests, a photo shaking hands as they received their diploma was taken and they returned to their place. Neither the medal nor the photo could be shown to anyone outside their particular service.

The Commandant spoke one last time. “Gentlemen, I give you the newest class of The Vipers. Glory to the Human Race, may the aliens be destroyed soon.” The applause was sweet in Katarina’s ears.

The End

961 Words

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Flash Fiction Friday: Chapter from The Downtrodden

Book, The Downtrodden, Brown Rain Series, Connie Cockrell

Front Cover for The Downtrodden

I thought, for something different, I’d share a partial chapter from The Downtrodden, the second book of the Brown Rain series. Links to purchase are at the end.

MOVING ON

As for food, the damaged gas station was a bust. They spent the first night in a house, cheering when they found a mylar packet of rice dinner in a cupboard, untouched by mice. The next day they began their hunt for food. On Main Street they found a hiking store where they acquired two sleeping bags in the back room, still in plastic-wrapped boxes. Kyra actually whooped.

The other bags in the store were full of mouse nests. They also managed to replace their knives which had been stolen by the Children of God. Kyra was happy about that. Since they’d escaped she’d been afraid of running into more wild dogs or even wolves. Memories of the fight with the last feral dogs they’d run into haunted her dreams. She wanted a knife for close fighting.

The shop didn’t have any bows or arrows. She felt that lack most of all. A knife was good but better to have some distance between her and any enemy. It was her best weapon and she felt naked without it. The store also had two cases of dehydrated food, one of chili and one of chicken stew. The mice had demolished the chicken but there were several packets of chili that were still in good shape. Those went into the packs. The grocery store in the center of town had been thoroughly looted. “Looks like the Children did get over here,” Kyra said as they left the empty store.

“Maybe there’s one on the outskirts,” Alyssa said as she bent over the sidewalk, clearing a way. They stopped by any store that looked as though it would have gear or supplies, but it was the same as the grocery. By noon they were resting in the park in the center of Fern Springs where the town had erected a pavilion, similar to the one at their school over their spring. Kyra had found packets of honey at the hiking store and shared them out, two for her and two for Alyssa.

“I wonder what happened to the bees.” Kyra had her back to a pavilion support as she squeezed crystallized honey into her mouth.

Alyssa licked her fingers. “They may be all gone. The brown rain covered everything. Without flowers the hives, even the biggest ones, wouldn’t have been able to survive more than a year or two. The rain lasted four years.”

Kyra gazed at the little park. She tried to imagine what it looked like all green grass and leafy trees, the little stream from the spring meandering through the park, flowers growing on its banks. It wasn’t possible. She was so used to seeing everything covered with the gray-brown oily sludge from a toxic rain that ended over a decade ago that she couldn’t imagine anything else. The color of the path that Alyssa had healed so they could get to this pavilion was a startling green against the depressing oily sludge. “How big do you think this park is?”

Alyssa looked around. “A quarter acre, maybe.” She turned to Kyra. “Why?”

“Just thinking how nice this park would be if it was green, the way it should be. Maybe animals could come and eat the grass, drink the clean water.” She waved her hand. “Never mind, it’s a silly thought.”

“No it’s not. This is exactly what I came out here to do.” She stood up. “You can watch from here.” Alyssa danced down the spongy wooden steps and began to work. She started close to the pavilion, around and around in bigger and bigger squares. Grass mostly, but there were a few oak and maple trees in the park that she healed too. She stopped at the sidewalks that surrounded the park and washed her hands in the stream as it dropped into a culvert and flowed out of the park.

“There,” she said, her face full of smiles as she reached the pavilion. “An oasis in a toxic desert.”

Kyra handed her a bottle of water. “I like it. Do you think your paths and these patches will help?”

“I know they will.” She wiped her mouth and handed the bottle back to Kyra. “The toxins are breaking down, I can feel it.”

Kyra’s face lit up. “They are?”

“Yeah, but it’s going to be a long time yet. In the meantime, my little paths are a break. A spot for wildlife to get a toe-hold. Bugs, then birds, then bigger prey and predators.” She looked thoughtful. “To be honest I was completely surprised that dogs had survived. They must be finding something to eat. Maybe something we can eat too. ”

Kyra refilled the bottle. “If it’s going to be a long time we’d better get going. You up for more paths? I want to check more stores and if that fails, houses.”

“Sure.” Alyssa turned and walked to Main Street and made a path to the store side of the street.

That night they stayed in a house near the edge of town. As expected, pickings had been slim in the stores but for some reason the Children had left most houses alone. The two raided closets for suitable hiking clothes, dry goods, or anything else they thought would be useful. Just outside of town they explored a farm house with a large but mouse-eaten pantry. Fortunately a bag of beans was found and cooked, mashed into a paste and dried into patties as road food. They had enough to eat for nine days so they moved on.

End of Chapter Section

You can buy The Downtrodden and my other books at: Apple, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, or Smashwords today!

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Flash Fiction Friday Story: Escape

Fractals, Plasma,

SubAtomic Plasma by AsaLegault via www.deviantart.com

Captain Jan A’Mungo’s forehead glistened with sweat as her brown eyes shifted over the displays on her pilot console.

“Jan, your ‘fro is drooping. You’re not worried are you?”

“That’s ‘Captain’ to you while we’re on the bridge, Pete. Husband or not I’ll write you up.”

“Hey!” Jack Ender, weapons master and general illicit cargo mover intervened. “The damn Patrol is on our butts. Can we save the marital squabbles for another time?”

The comm system crackled with static then broadcast its message. “Cargo ship Epona. This is Captain Bartholomew Ho of the Galactic Patrol ship GUS Orion. We have you on our scanners. Surrender now and your sentence will be reduced to life in the Gehenna penal colony.”

Jan punched console icons and made sure she was on the opposite side of Nodens 5, ducking the cargo ship into the planet’s cloud cover.

From his seat at weapons, Jack Ender craned his head around to stare at his Captain. “Uhh, Captain, we’re in the atmo.”

“I know,” she snapped. “Would you prefer to be in the Orion’s tractor beams?”

“Jan, we have a hold full of weapons for the rebellion. Why are we on the planet?” Her husband, Pete Ostrander, had six screens of data showing both atmospheric conditions of Nodens 5 and the echos of the Orion’s scanner signals.

“Are you piloting this boat or am I?” Jan snapped. Her ship was too small to fight the battleship hovering outside the atmosphere of the fifth planet in the Nodens system. It’s engines were too weak to outrun the other ship. She didn’t have a lot of options. “Find me a way off of this rock and away from that battleship.”

“We could just stay on the opposite side of the planet.” Jack had all of his weapons on standby and it wasn’t much. The weapons system had two missles in the launch bay and two more on the rack. The laser beams were ready but the charging mechanism would take too long to recharge if he overused the lasers against a battleship. His blaster was on his belt, he never went anywhere without it, but it would be useless if the battleship held the Epona in a tractor beam.

“As long as the Orion doesn’t deploy a couple of shuttles to the Lagrange points.” Jan used her jumpsuit sleeve to wipe her forehead. “Any other ideas?”

“I heard Gehenna isn’t that bad. We could surrender. Live a life of bliss with farm animals and heavy labor,” Pete mused from his chair on the opposite side of the bridge from Jack.

Both Jan and Jack snorted. “You, milking cows?” Jan hiccupped as she laughed. “That’ll be the day. Any other ideas?”

Pete studied the three screens showing the planet. One screen had atmospheric data. “What’s the classification of this rock?”

Jan tapped a symbol on her touch screen. “Ummm. It’s dang close to Earth normal. Why?”

“Can you sneak us around to the sunset line?”

She studied the screen. The Orion was moving slowly to the planetary east. “Yeah, why?”

“Well,” Pete rubbed the three day old beard on his chin. “We may be able to use plasma bubbles to escape.”

Both Jan and Jack swiveled their chairs around to stare at him.

“It’s old school, I give you that.”

“What do you mean?” Jan loved her husband but his interest in old technology drove her crazy.

“Look, keep us at the equator. Around sunset naturally occurring plasma bubbles will form in the atmosphere. We can use that to escape.”

“What are you talking about?” Jack grew up on a space station and had spent all of his ten years since his eighteenth birthday on spaceships.

“It’s electrons. Plasma is just positively charged atmosphere. The ions form a cloud of sorts, lighter than the surrounding atmosphere then it rises, like a bubble in boiling water, to the top of the atmosphere.”

“What’s that got to do with us?” Jan wasn’t putting the picture together at all. She just needed to escape from the Orion and get the cargo to the waiting rebellion.

“A plasma bubble deflects signals.” Pete grinned at his partners.

Jan took a moment to process that information. “As in their scans can’t see us?”

Pete nodded.

“How do we find one of these bubbles?”

He shook his head. “We don’t. We make one. Big enough for us to hide in the middle and hold it until the Orion moves off.”

“How do you do that?”

“I can use the ship systems to generate a magnetic shield in a spherical grid around the ship. I’ll stream ions inside the grid. That forms the bubble. If we work it right, we can modulate the edges to make it look natural and drift the bubble along the planetary sunset line at the upper edge of the atmosphere until the Orion leaves or we can sneak off.” He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.

“No way.” Jack snorted and turned back to his console.

Pete’s hands flew down from his head as he sat forward in his chair. “Yes, way. It can be done.”

Jan closed her eyes. If she lost the ship to the Orion, all of the weapons would be lost and her crew would end up on Gehenna. She took a deep breath. “Yeah, do it.”

She and Jack watched, nerves stretched tight as violin strings, as Pete tapped console keys. “It’s done. Just drift us westward.”

Jan set the controls to hover and depended on atmospheric winds to carry the ship along. She didn’t want to leave any engine trail. It took eighteen hours. The tiny crew cheered as Jan’s screen showed the Orion heading back out into space.

“Secure that magnetic field,” she ordered. “We have a cargo to deliver.”

The End

968 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Busy December

Candy and cookies have been made and mailed. That’s a huge load off of my mind. I then went into full Christmas decorating mode. The tree is up and presents for Mom and daughter are under it. Knick-knacks and decorative cloths are distributed around the house. Yay! Done!

The garden is still waiting as I’ve been busy. Last Wednesday I spoke at the local Soroptimist’s meeting. I had a lovely lunch and met a lot of nice women. They seemed to enjoy my little speech and a handful of books were purchased. A good day. I also had three more people sign up for my newsletter. That’s a big win for me.

I’ve been talking to my Mom nearly every day. We’ve painted her room a light lavender, hung the curtains, and shampooed the carpet. The chest of drawers is painted, the bed assembled, a computer desk and chair were found at a local thrift shop and installed in the room. I bought a new quilt for the bed. It looks good in there. Hubby set up the TV to work with our Dish service and set up the computer for her too. She arrives tomorrow. I’m excited.

Thanks for stopping by my blog today.

The Downtrodden: a Brown Rain Story released November 22nd! I’m pretty excited about it. You can buy it and my other books at: Apple, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, or Smashwords today!

Flash Fiction Friday: Near Miss

Turkey by Randy Cockrell

Turkey by Randy Cockrell

Zalon and his wife, Willow, slaughtered the last turkey from their flock. As he cleaned the axe, Willow held the bird to the feather plucker. The rotating drum with flexible fingers pulled the feathers off quickly. He remembered the first time they used it. Willow had held the chicken too close and the machine pulled not only feathers, but skin and nearly pulled her hands into it.

Their son, Bai, was picking up feathers and stuffing them into a bag. Zalon planned on keeping some of them for his own projects but the rest would be sold. Several artists used the heritage breed turkey feathers for their art projects.

Willow dropped the plucked bird into a bucket of water to clean it. “Last one,” she said as she rinsed her hands. “I’ll keep this one for the feast.”

“How ya doin’, son?”

“Good, Daddy.” The boy held out his bag.

Zalon smiled. Bai had feathers in his hair and stuck to his clothing.

A big grin spread across his  five-year-old face. It was the first time he’d been allowed to help. “I’ve got lots of feathers.”

“Yes you do. Mommy and I are going to wrap and freeze these birds for this winter. You finish picking up the feathers.”

“OK, Daddy.”

Zalon watched Bai squat down to grab more feathers next to the plucking machine.

Willow pulled the turkey out of the bucket and patted it dry. “This one will feed a lot of people. I’m so looking forward to tomorrow’s Thanksgiving feast. I haven’t seen my parents or your’s in a month.”

Zalon began wrapping the birds in plastic. “Me, too. It’ll be nice to just relax at a party for the afternoon.”

They finished wrapping the birds and began the process of carrying them into the house where the industrial-sized freezer was. It took several trips as they could only carry a couple of birds each at a time.

They were putting the last of the birds in the freezer when they heard a scream. Zalon was first out of the door and into the yard. There he saw Bai backed up against the plucking machine, a Bashnall, a green and gold lizard-looking creature found on Titan 3, was nosing around the bucket where Willow had been rinsing the turkeys.

Zalon whistled for King, his domestic wolf. “Get a gun, Willow.” He dashed toward the Bashnall. He wondered at a Bashnall so close by. The wolves had begun hunting the Bashnall four years ago. He hadn’t seen one this close to town in a long time. The Bashnall knocked over the bucket, water flowed across the ground. Not finding anything to eat there, the Bashnall turned to Bai, still holding the bag of feathers.

“Drop the bag,” Zalon called to his son.

The boy stood, white-faced and big eyed, staring at the approaching creature, the size of the family wolf. King raced around the corner of the barn and streaked for the Bashnall. Zalon reached the boy, pulled the sack from his hand and threw it at the lizard as he spun around to the rear of the machine, Bai in his arms.

King gave a low growl and launched at the lizard. The Bashnall screamed making Zalon’s blood run cold. The animals were in a tangle, dust and mud flew in the air as each one scrambled to kill the other. Zalon used their distraction to back away then circle around to the house. He met Willow halfway across the yard. He handed her the baby and took the gun. “Get inside,” he told her then moved toward the animals.

It was hard to get a shot. King was rolling over and over with the Bashnall, snarling as he tried to reach the creature’s throat. Zalon followed the pair as they rolled. He wanted to get a shot off before the lizard hurt the wolf. He had his chance when the two broke apart. King crouched for another attack as the Bashnall whirled around to face its attacker. Zalon fired his blaster, the beam passing closer to his wolf than he liked. Don’t move, boy, he thought. The beam hit the predator in the head. It stood for a second as King leapt. The wolf grabbed the creature by the throat and shook the animal. Ichor and gobs of lizard flew in every direction.

“Easy, boy.” Zalon approached the wolf. “You got him, boy. Let him go now.” The wolf gave the creature another shake then dropped it at Zalon’s feet. Zalon stroked the wolf’s head. “Good job, King. Good job.”

The wolf huffed then nosed the Bashnall. He pointed his nose at the sky and gave out a long howl. Zalon chuckled. “The same way I feel,” he told the wolf.

Willow came out, Bai in her arms. “That was close,” she said as she stared at the creature in the dirt.

“It was. I wonder why this one is so close to town?”

“I don’t know. But it’s dead now.” She kissed Bai on the forehead.

Zalon hugged them both. “Thankfully, King was here to help.”

Willow stroked the wolf’s head. “I think a bone will be in order for him tonight.”

 

The End

867 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Mid-September Update

Pink Roses against the September sky by Randy Cockrell

Pink Roses against the September sky by Randy Cockrell

Oh my gosh! Totally forgot to do a blog post last Monday. I was exhausted after the fair ended last Sunday and didn’t have any brain power left to do a post. I apologize for that. The fair went pretty well. Like military plans, fair plans rarely survive first contact but we got most things done and fair-goers had fun. That’s all that counts. I’ve been posting pictures of livestock 4H and FFA winners on the fair Facebook page, https://www.facebook.com/pages/Northern-Gila-County-Fair/136645043024179. These kids work really hard raising their animals and learning how to show them. It seemed fitting to post their accomplishments.
First Encounter, the first book in my new Brown Rain series is up on Amazon’s new Pre-Order feature. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MW8AYOK If you use another ereader, it’s also up on Kobo for pre-order at http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/first-encounter-6. Release date is scheduled for September 18th.
The garden is in fall mode. The green and yellow beans have withered, so no more of them. The peppers, both sweet and hot, are ripening. I may be able to roast and freeze the hot peppers soon. I have poblano and Fresno chilis. They’ll be very good this winter in my chili. I had to cut my mint down. The bees love the flowers but the flowers were going to seed. I can’t have mint seed spreading everywhere. I’d never get rid of the stuff. The bees can still visit the oregano flowers so they’ll have flowers until they go into hibernation. My butternut squash is also ripening. The very first ones to grow this spring are ready to pick. I’ll store them in my garage and the last ones will keep all winter. Tomatoes are sprawling all over. I still am picking more cherry tomatoes than we can eat. The regular tomatoes I par-boil, skin, chop and freeze. They’ll make great spaghetti sauce this winter. Do you garden? What’s still going strong for you?
The picture accompanying my blog today was taken by my husband of some of the roses I have blooming right now. I love the way they look against this mid-September sky.
Thanks for stopping by my blog today.
Like any author, my books sell based on reviews. Would you be interested in getting a free copy to review for me? Go to the button on the right side of the blog or go to my Newsletter tab to sign up. Or sign up here. Use Control, Click to access the link. Let me know if you’d like to be a reviewer on Goodreads or the e-tailer site of your choice.
Revolution: A Gulliver Station Story released August 1st! I’m pretty excited about it. You can buy it and my other books at: Apple, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, or Smashwords today!