A Friend in Need

by Travis Perry

Jax knelt down beside Ernsto, who was flat on his back on a sandy patch at the bottom of a rocky gully, wincing in pain. “I’m so sorry about last night—I guess I’ve been regulating how much I drink by how much I bring in…I usually run out of cash before I can put down that much ale.”

Ernsto snorted, “So it’s my fault for helpin’ you bring in too big a haul?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. The fault was mine. I’m sorry I led her to you, that Zana lady.”

“Well, don’t expect much from me. I never used to forgive anything from anyone.”

“Used to? Does that mean you forgive now?”

“Well—that angel sure would want me to…” Ernsto’s voice trailed off and his eyes watered.

Jax stared at his new friend and didn’t know what to think. He’d heard Ernsto cry out before, as in for help or in pain—but he’d never seen him cry, not a single tear, not even when he’d set the bone in his arm. There was so much he didn’t know about this guy. What in the world could have affected him so much?

“What angel?” Jax finally asked in a soft voice.

“Never mind about her…I forgive you. God knows I done a lot worse than what you did. To someone a lot better’n me.” A single tear streaked down the side of his face, past his ear into the sand. Ernsto wiped at his face absently, as if he didn’t really care.

“Changing subjects, er…I don’t think I set your bone quite right. Your left arm is shorter than the other.”

“Hmmm. Don’ blame yourself. I think it’s because the bone is shattered in that spot.”

“Ah…doesn’t that mean it will never heal right? I’m not a doctor or anything, but I think that’s the case.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you are correct.”

“Shouldn’t we, ah…do something about that?”

“Got any suggestions? Remember I’m wanted everywhere. And believe me, the man that’s after me is sure to make me disappear forever. If they catch me.”

Jax rubbed his chin, looking upward, Sheba visible low over the east mountain ridge in the dust-orange hued sky. “You know, I think I’ve got an idea…”

The Big One

by Greg Mitchell -

“No,” Dressler said for the fourth time, now folding his beefy arms, hoping to add to the effect.

Yulaura crossed the room, releasing an exasperated breath. She flopped in the seat across from him in Meryl’s crowded living room. At their feet, five children played and rough-housed, except for Edilyn. Dressler’s daughter sat next to him, stiff and serious. She was more hunter than child now.

“Dress, be reasonable,” Yulaura groaned. “We need this.”

“We? Or you?”

“Me! You!” She gestured to the cramped quarters, shouting to be heard over the lawless kids. “How long can you possibly stand to live here?”

An especially sharp cry split Dressler’s nerves as one of his nephews pummeled his squealing niece with a pillow. Yulaura had a point.

Only last week he and Edilyn had taken in a stranger who’d run into a spot of trouble. Turns out that trouble had followed him to their home. There had been an attack. Edilyn had kept her cool, and Dressler had never been prouder of her. Together they’d defended their home and kept their haggard guest safe—but the house was destroyed. His sister Meryl had graciously offered them a couch for the last few nights, but he and Edilyn were used to their quiet. Their solitude.

A stray pillow sailed through the air, smacking him in the face. He scowled.

“What’s the job?” he grumbled. “More importantly, what’s it pay?”

Yulaura’s bright eyes lit with excitement against her tanned face. Her teeth beamed white in a wide smile. “Big. This is the big one, Dress. My contact says that it’s a huge infestation. Biggest one they’ve ever had. Hunters from all over are coming, but there’s room for everyone. And money for everyone, too. Lots of money.”

He squinted at her, apprehensive. “Well, there would have to be, considering where we’re going.”

His stomach flopped, just at the thought of it. A wave of queasiness settled over him as he rolled the word over in his mind: Avenir. There was a damn bug invasion on Avenir. The thought of breaking orbit, going into space…

Dressler swallowed hard, his weathered hands feeling damp.

After his little “adventure” down in Eclectia’s oceans, Dressler was determined to keep nice, solid earth under his feet at all times from here on out.

He looked to Edilyn, heaving a sigh. “What do you think?”

His daughter leaned over and hugged his arm. “I don’t want you to leave again.”

He patted her curly, dirty blonde locks. He didn’t want to leave, either. Last time he’d left her, he’d followed his last partner on some harebrained scheme. That turned out badly, to say the least. He’d nearly died down there in those waters, facing off against that thing. Now he was thinking about going up into space and fighting the monsters up there?

Yulaura continued to grin, nearly bouncing in place. “Come on, Dress. We need this,” she repeated. “Think of Lyn. You guys can’t stay here.”

She was right. As usual. He didn’t now why Yulaura was so excited to leave the planet. Maybe it was just the lure of adventure. Yulaura certainly liked to live on the wild side, getting them both into their share of trouble during their partnership. But he trusted her. She’d not let him down yet.

Dressler looked to his daughter, apologetically. Edilyn rolled her eyes and let him go, realizing he’d made his decision. “Oh, alright. But hurry back. If I have to stay here much longer, I’m going to go out of my mind.”

Dress chuckled and gave her a playful smack in the face with a pillow. “Be back before you know it. Maybe I’ll even bring you a souvenir.”

Parting

by Edward M. Erdelac -

Considine’s fear that the downing of the fighter would bring the rest of Morgenstar’s air force, while not unfounded, proved inconsequential.

Yulaura took full advantage of the gritty, cluttered skies, driving the rover down through low canyons and grumbling along beneath rocky overhangs, rendering them nearly invisible from the air.

They did see a pair of fighters circle like carrion flyers far overhead, but the downing of their comrade had perhaps made the others wary about flying too low.

It was a circuitous route, but in two hours time the rover came to a stop at the edge of the ocean, where the old sub-ferry station waited, along with a single Morgenstar fighter, sitting on the shore.

“Looks like they wised up,” said Yulaura. “Or one of ‘em did. What now?”

“They haven’t seen this rover,” said Dressler. “As far as they know, we’re just a bunch of grit-breathers looking for passage to Zirconia. Give him a spare suit and a mask and let’s park this thing. We’ll wait till the sub-ferry docks and then go.”

Considine donned a too-tight exposure suit and desert robes and a mask as Yulaura pulled the rover into the holding lot.

They waited a half an hour before the tower of the sub-ferry broke the surface of the water and pulled into the dock.

“You sure he’s worth all this trouble?” she asked Dressler.

“Maybe he is and maybe he isn’t, but there’s still the compensation to be had. And that’s worth the time, yes, unless you wanna live in the rover from now on.”

Yulaura sighed as Lyn pulled on her facemask again.

“Well I don’t wanna live in this thing,” said the girl.

They stepped out into the whipping, volcanic winds, and walked to the shelter of the station.

They were the only waiting passenger except for the Morgenstar pilot lounging on a bench in his flightsuit. He was a clean-cut, angular fellow, not one of these bruiser security officers, but he had a stingshot pistol strapped to his thigh, and when they came in out of the wind, he stood up.

The ferry-attendant, a bored looking old woman, announced the arrival of the ferry through her squelchy public address, and stood up tiredly to take their money.

The pilot walked towards them, his hand on his pistol.

The doors to the ferry opened, and Considine was delighted to see two familiar faces step off, along with a crowd of people bound for elsewhere.

Considine stepped to the two uniformed Enforcers and pulled off his facemask.

“Haj! Jelly!” he exclaimed.

It was Jelly Galveston and Haj, two of his own team. They looked startled to see him and stared bemused at his clothes.

Considine glanced back at the Morgenstar pilot and saw him hesitate, then move his hand away from his pistol and trot back outside, heading for his fighter and communications line no doubt.

“Inspector?” Jelly said. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Haj drew his pneumatic sidearm and covered Considine.

“You’re under arrest, Considine.”

Considine raised his hands slowly, and looked over at Dressler, Lyn, and Yulaura with what he hoped was an apologetic expression.

“I’ll sort this out, I promise.”

Dressler and Lyn started forward, but Yulaura grabbed them both by the elbows.

“Sure,” she said. “Be sure and contact us when you do.”

She pulled them back, turned them around, and walked back outside.

Bird Hunting

by Edward M. Erdelac -

The bed had been overturned and blown against the opposite wall, and Considine had to worm his way out from under the debris.

He heard Dressler in the next room shouting for his daughter, and heard her anxious reply.

Considine pushed himself to his feet, rubble sliding off his shoulders, as Dressler appeared in the doorway again with a long rifle.

“You alright?” he demanded more than asked.

“Fine!” Considine managed.

Dressler nodded and leapt through the hole in his home, into the whirling ash and cinder blowing outside.

The girl scampered out behind him, a breathing mask on her face and another dangling from her fist. Considine limped along after.

Dressler rushed straight for a stand of rocks a few yards from the smoking house, and dove down behind as the Morgenstar fighter roared and banked overhead, coming around for a second pass.

They must have tracked him to the house somehow.

Considine could barely see or breathe. He clenched his eyes against the horrendous air and breathed into the crook of his elbow, but his eyes streamed tears.

When he joined them behind the rocks, Dressler already had the spare mask on and was priming the powerful-looking rifle.

The girl looked at him and grabbed his elbow, pulling him close to shout in his ear over the wind.

“Pull your shirt over your head!” she shrieked through her breathing mask.

He did so. The relief wasn’t total, but it wasn’t negligible either.

He heard the whining engine of the fighter droning closer. If the pilot could see them through the clouds of ash, he would vaporize their position with an eruption of his cannons.

Considine pulled the shirt down and scanned the area for another place to flee, but they were in the middle of nowhere.

Dressler was climbing on top of the rocks.

“What’re you doing?” Considine yelled. “Get down!”

Dressler ignored him and put the rifle to his cheek, aiming it at the sky expectantly.

Considine saw the fighter then, coming in low, flying through the ash like a great winged hunting beast.

Dressler saw it too, and fired.

The rifle bucked against his shoulder and the end of the barrel flamed, spitting out a heavy shot with a loud crack.

The fighter passed just over their heads with a roar.

Considine saw the wings waggle, and suddenly the nose dipped sharply and the bird went down, ploughing earth with its face, flipping radically end over end, and coming to an explosive rest directly in the center of Dressler’s house, which blew apart, sending chunks of permiform in all directions.

Dressler lowered the rifle.

Lyn, her blonde curls whipping around behind her facemask, stood up and slapped her father’s leg with the back of her hand.

“You should’ve let it pass!” she scolded.

“Nice shot, Dress!” came a new voice, a woman’s, but muffled by a face mask. “But bad timing!”

A decidedly female form, masked and robed, stood nearby, a long hunting rifle cradled in her arms.

Parked a few yards behind her was a bulky six-wheeled rover.

“Yulaura! The girl squealed, and rushed over, pointing angrily back at Dressler, who was coming down off the rock somewhat less heroically than when he’d ascended it. “Didja see what Dad did?”

“It was a great shot,” Considine offered, as Dressler inspected the inferno where his house had once been.

“Nothing in there that can’t be replaced,” Dressler muttered. “But who the hell was that?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with. I can’t ask you to take me to Zirconia now that I know they’re after me. Just lend me a breathing mask and…”

“The hell with that,” Dressler said. “Yulaura, fire up the rover and let’s get going! How do you expect me to collect compensation for all this if you’re dead, Inspector?”

Motion

by Karina Fabian - 

Dorran froze at the threshold to the hospital room, his feet refusing to obey his mind’s command to propel him past the sterilization field and to Bonina’s side.  Instead, he hovered, his fists clenched, his eyes roving her body, taking in the tubes and needles, straining to see some sign of motion.  In all the years they’d known each other, she’d never stopped moving.  Even asleep, she had shifted and kicked at the heavy hides on their bed.  Here, they’d cocooned her in sterile white sheets, and the only motion he saw was the rise and fall of her chest in time with the ventilator. 

Her parents had insisted on rushing her to the station, a land of metal and glass, machines and white.  So much white.  Sterile. Cold.  They’d tied her to machines that breathed for her, cleaned her blood, kept her fed, even cleansed her of the layer of dirt that inevitably worked into the skin of anyone who lived on Eclectia.  They’d preserved her life--but had anyone held her hand?

Why couldn’t he?

He held his hand before him, stained and grimed from a lifetime of mining.  He remembered the first time she’d held his hand between both of hers, pale and beautiful and fluttering.  Always in motion.  Now, she needed him to move, and he couldn’t.  Coward.

“Please.  I’m sorry.  I take it all back—every harsh word.  Just, please.  Move for me.”

The Bug Hunters

By Edward M. Erdelac  

Considine opened one eye.

The other was swollen shut, but he could see dim artificial light through the slit of his puckered flesh, so he knew at least the eye was still there.

He saw the source of the light, a buzzing lumidome set into a permiform ceiling. There was a constant rattling and sifting of blowing gravel and a howling wind outside, so he knew he was still on Eclectia.

He tried to sit up but could do no more than touch his chin to his chest before he was overcome by muscle pain. He hurt all over. He tried wiggling his toes and fingers though, and was relieved to find everything in working order.

There was a slight figure seated just behind his feet, which were hidden beneath a coarse blanket.

It was a girl with dirty blonde hair and striking blue eyes. She was young, but swaddled in dirty robes and an exposure suit, with a cracked bandolier over one skinny shoulder. She had a long pike across her knees, the sort he’d seen the bug hunters carry.

“Daad!” the girl called over her shoulder. “He’s awake!”

A curtain was swept aside and a tall, rough faced man entered, a metal plate of steaming food in one ash-blackened hand.

“Just in time for breakfast, mister….?”

He let the question hang and raised his eyebrows.

“Considine. Inspector Scanlon Considine.”

“Dressler,” the man said, and laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “My daughter, Lyn. Why don’t you go fix yourself a plate, honey?”

Lyn rose from the stool and handed the pike to her father, who took it, along with her seat.

He laid the plate of food on Considine’s legs, and Considine’s belly growled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.

“Go on, have at it,” Dressler said.

Considine sucked in his breath, coughed the hard air, and groaned with the effort of sitting up.

“Sorry,” Dressler said, pushing the plate closer. “Didn’t think you were that banged up. Hardly a mark on you, except for that eye. You got lucky. My partner and I saw you crash. You’re not much of a pilot, are you?”

“No,” Considine grinned, “I suppose I’m not. How long have I been out?”

“Only few hours. You say you’re an Inspector. Where at? Avenir?” he glanced up at the ceiling.

Considine picked up the plate of brownish looking food and dug in with the fork, chewing ravenously before he could answer around the mouthful.

“Zirconia. As a matter of fact, I have to get back there as soon as possible.”

“I can take you to the sub-ferry. We’re only a few hours in from the shore by rover. Just waiting for my partner to come in so we can leave.”

“You’re a hunter?”

“Yep. That’s fresh bomber-egg you’re eating. Cut from the sac just this morning.”

“Thanks for taking me in. I’ll see my office reimburses you for fuel and time,” Considine said, though he thought, if they don’t arrest me when we get there.

Dressler waved him off, then perked up.

“Sounds like Yulaura’s back.” He stood up. “Sure you don’t wanna rest up some?” He stopped then, and cocked his head.

“What is it?” Considine asked, scarfing down the last of the bomber-eggs.

He heard a new sound weaving through the constant blowing grit rattling against the domicile. A whirring, the sound of engines, but too smooth and refined for a land rover.

Then the wall of the room blew apart in a burst of fire and permiform.

Daddy/Daughter Date

By Greg Mitchell - 

“Steady,” Dressler whispered into the little girl’s ear.

He leaned in close, brushing his whiskers against her soft check, wrapping his arms around her to tighten her shot. He felt the rise and fall of Edilyn’s breathing, the slight tremble in her thin arms as she gripped his worn rifle.

“How am I doing, Daddy?” she asked in a soft hush, her voice slightly muffled through the breathing mask he insisted she wore every time they stepped outside into the harsh red sands of Eclectia. When she was younger, she’d nearly died from ash lung—he wasn’t about to tempt fate. Not after all he’d been through to receive her back.

“Just fine, Lyn. Now line up your shot.”

Up ahead, Dressler squinted against the light grainy breeze and saw the scurrying bug, foraging in the sand. About three feet in length, the hard-shelled critter scuttled about on a hundred legs, oblivious it was being stalked.

Edilyn took careful aim, holding in her breath, releasing it slowly.

“Take your time,” he encouraged her. “No rush. You’re in charge of the situation. You control how fast things progress.”

Dressler had been taking Edilyn out on hunts for awhile now. Eclectia was a harsh wasteland; only the strong survived. While his daughter was only eleven, it was time for her to learn how to protect herself from the varied predators out here in the wilds: both of bug and human kind.

“I think I’m ready, Daddy,” she said, and Dressler grinned, holding her in his arms.

“If you’re sure, take the shot.”

“I’m sure,” she said, nodding, her arms stiff and shaking.

He slowly released her, spreading his arms wide, letting her stand on her own. She leveled the rifle, one eye squinting, the stock pressed to her cheek. Dressler watched her, beautiful and powerful, ready to conquer the world. He felt old in that moment, yet born again, as well.

Then he glanced up. Saw a dark shape clamber over the hill, nearing the bug in Edilyn’s sights.

“Wait,” he said, quickly, and she jumped with a start. Yet, in spite of her surprise, she did not fire off a stray round.

She’s learning. Good.

“What?” she hissed back at him.

Dressler relaxed, still grinning, and gently patted Edilyn on the back. “Let it go.”

Edilyn kept her gun raised, but craned her head to regard her father. “What? Why?”

He nodded towards the horizon, watching as the larger bug collected its young, the two of them retreating over the dunes in peace. Edilyn watched, too, lowering the rifle, her shoulders sagging. “Oh. I guess they’re just like us, huh?”

Dressler wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. “C’mon. Let’s get back home.”

Daddy and daughter returned home, the setting sun at their backs.

Rejection

By Edward M. Erdelac - 

The boom of the fighter bursting into the atmosphere at an inexpert entry trajectory jarred Considine out of ecstatic fanaticism and back into harrowing reality.

The wind roared and buffeted the craft, and directly in front of him, quivering on the shell of his helmet, the pilot organism writhed, having been dislodged by the violent fall into the stratosphere.

Now the black ash and flame winds of Eclectia rocked the ship, already a kind of apocalypse of its own.

He saw the thing up close, the thing that had been in his mind, or rather its slimy antenna. It had a star-shaped pink head and a gummy, counter-rotating maw. Its spotty, slithering body glistened with slime and sloshing seawater.

With a roar of effort, Considine drew back his head and flung himself forward, smashing the faceplate of his helmet on the instrument panel and sending the hissing monstrosity flopping down into his lap along with the gush of seawater.

He gave up trying to fight the rocking controls and gripped the pilot organism in both gloved hands, squeezing it as it thrashed and curled about his wrists, throttling it and driving in his fingers until they burst through, and a thick, yellowish ichor bubbled over his thumbs.

He ripped the tubing from his chest pump and felt beside his seat for the ejection lever.

With a wrench he blew open the fighter canopy, feeling the hot, ashy wind of Eclectia scorch his face and eyes, choking his lungs. It stank of sulfur and burning.

Then there was a second explosion and he was jettisoned from the hopelessly spiraling fighter. He tumbled end over end through the black and red sky until the chair jets began to fire, dropping him toward the planet in a sporadic rocking motion, violent enough to make his bile rise.

He remembered to open his hand and let the dead eel thing fall away, but he was unconscious by the time the chair fuel, not quite designed to bring a pilot to safety all the way from the upper atmosphere, ran dry, and he crashed heavily to the ground.

The Apocalypse of Rahab

By Edward M. Erdelac - 

Behind Considine’s eyes, reality exploded in cataclysmic flame.

The bugs dropped burning from the fire-filled skies into the boiling ocean. Beneath the churning, bubbling waves, superheated Zirconia glowed red as the people inside were seared to death.

The charred mountains broke apart and fell into the sky. The rim of Eclectia burned.

He saw this not with his own eyes, but with the eyes of Aloysius Morgenstar.

He had been standing blissfully unaware of impending cosmic doom, quite drunk and wondering how much of a ruckus one of the female staff would make if he cornered her in the watercloset only seconds before God contacted him.

He had taken his personal omniyacht The Traveler from the Avenir to the scenic edge of the Boatic Trench below the Eclectian ocean as part of a publicity stunt to wrangle in more financial backers for his R&D department, treating them to a luxury cruise replete with expensive cuisine, impeccable liqueurs, and beautiful consorts, and culminating with a live demonstration of new high pressure space suits designed for the miners of Sheba.

But as he had stood among the other aristocrats before the panoramic viewport and watched the choreographed antics of the suited personnel out in the water, God had revealed Himself, and shown him the face of Eclectia.

A cosmic event would crack the planet asunder, just as long ago a similar fate had befallen Sheba. God did not tell him the cause of the cataclysm to come, but in the fiery visions he saw the Whale and the Twin collide and all the world broken to asteroids.

There was but one escape.

The Avenir.

But God had enemies, the jelly creatures some men called angels. They were servants of the great entropy to come, and had driven God below, down into the murky depths of the Boatic Trench to there trap Him until the cataclysm they helped to bring about, came and consumed them all.

Aloysius Morgenstar had never been much of a believer in deities or in revelation, but the vision had been so vivid and real he had lost his composure and screamed aloud when it had passed.

He had retired to his cabin, his assistants making excuses for him as was their job, trying to keep his investors from losing confidence. He had fought sleep for fear the nightmarish notions of madness would return when he closed his eyes.

Instead, God reinforced the urgency of the revelation and proved beyond any doubt the veracity of Morgenstar’s experience.

Two men from the dive team came to him.

One had been physically and psychically taken over by an emissary of the God. He spoke with God’s voice, and called himself Rahab, though his personnel files had called him Jovis Purl. In a month, Purl was dead. But Rahab showed them more visions, and how to gather more followers. The eel creatures could be made to extend the influence of God up even to the Avenir, and through these pilot organisms, He could bring others to the cause, spread the worship of God. First He enticed them with sensual delights, mental experiences beyond any physical or emotional gratification any human had experienced.

Then, Rahab showed them the inner truth of the apocalypse, and the need to free Him from the so-called angels, and escape on the Avenir.

Members of Rahab’s cult enacted His will in various ways, in every strata of society. Wizards and historians even now worked in secret to restore the Avenir to life, so the faithful could escape the apocalypse.

To Morgenstar and to the second man, Orin Bantry, had fallen the task of destroying the agents of the apocalypse.

And now the sacred duty would settle at last on Considine’s shoulders. He would pilot a new submersible packed with detonite to the edge of the Boatic Trench and carry out the holy mission he had spoiled before. It was already docked and loaded in Zirconia.

This would be his penance and his salvation.

Game Changer, Part 3

by Mary Ruth Pursselley

Robin dropped his pencil into the pile of paper on the table and sat back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes and stubbled face. He’d taken the disk translation as far as he could. He was no linguist or angel expert, so most of the finer nuances and references in the inscription would have to be figured out by someone else, but he had understood enough.

Enough to make him laugh as he sat, face in his hands, exhausted and ecstatic. Enough to assure him that this was the find of a lifetime—maybe several lifetimes.

“Unbelievable,” he said aloud, referring not just to the disk and its writings, but to his own fortune in being the one to decode it. God was, as always, watching out for him… though His watchfulness and favor were surpassing even Robin’s wildest imaginings. He couldn’t possibly have deserved this.

He said a brief prayer of thanks, then looked at his watch. Doing so made him laugh again—he’d been sitting here for almost twenty-four hours. No wonder he was starving. He stood up and stretched, already working on a mental to-do list:  Arrange for the disk to be taken to Trinity University. Get a crew of interns assigned to Adagio to help him. Look into renting boats and diving equipment for an expedition to Funder’s Cove, where the fisherman had found the disk.

Oh—the fisherman. Robin remembered his promise to tell the man what the disk said. He rifled through the blizzard of papers on the desk until he found a blank sheet, grabbed his pencil again, and jotted down a basic outline of the translation.

As he wrote, he considered a few of the stranger points in the account. Strangest of all was the reasoning given for the angels’ decision to abandon their city, Light: an invasion that caused the loss of several lives, as well as considerable damage to the city itself. It wasn’t an invasion of humans—references to the Founders were very distinctly worded—but Robin was sure either he or Hanks must have mistranslated the symbol describing what the invaders were. It was too random, too bizarre. An invasion of crazy bugs, so crazy they nearly destroyed the city? Robin had no doubt that the linguist assigned to the disk would get a good laugh at his expense over that one. Oh well. He’d never claimed to be a linguist.

He was curious to find out what or who the invaders really were, though. Especially since the disk explained the angels’ realization that the event would take place again, because “such is their nature”. Whatever that meant.

As he headed for the bathroom to get a much-needed shave and shower—the last one he was likely to get for a while, if he set out on the expedition to Funder’s Cove as soon as he hoped—he suddenly stopped and grimaced. He’d promised that girl from the school in Zirconia that he’d contact her sister, the archaeologist, while he was in Adagio.

Well, he decided with a sigh, that shouldn’t take too awfully long—a day, at most. He’d get that out of the way, give the fisherman his rough translation of the disk, and then he’d be free to get to work.

Game Changer, Part 2

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Ash storms blasted Adagio all through the night, hissing and scratching against the window of Robin’s room, but he barely noticed. Morning came and went in similar fashion. He hadn’t slept or eaten since starting work on the angel disk the previous afternoon.

“Incredible,” he said aloud for what must have been the three-hundredth time—not that he was keeping track of that, either. He’d completely forgotten everything but the disk. He had a stack of paper covered with translations, notes, and corrections, most of which were scrawled so haphazardly that even he would have trouble reading it later. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the revolutionary information flowing from the disk’s inscription.

It was a Founding-by-Founding record of an angel civilization’s attempt to colonize land. If it was to be believed—and at this point Robin had no reason not to believe it—the angels had actually built a water-filled city, like a giant aquarium, on a peninsula that, according to the descriptions, wasn’t far from where the fishermen had found the disk.

A good portion of the inscription was taken up with growth records of the city’s population, descriptions of the algae and fish they raised for food, and a few incredible passages describing technological developments or cultural practices. There was scarcely a sentence in the entire thing that wouldn’t rock the academic world all by itself.

There were also several passages alluding to light and dark, and Robin had been at a loss for hours trying to decipher them. Finally, he had realized that the references to light and dark weren’t literal: the angels had named their city “Light”.

The name carried some literal connotation in that there was more light from the Whale on the surface than undersea, but most of it seemed to stem from the angels’ relief at having escaped the “dark ones” and what Robin took to be some kind of undersea war.

If he was interpreting the information correctly, Robin realized that this disk proved more than the fact that angels were sentient and intelligent. It proved that they were moral—creatures with understanding of right and wrong, and the means and will to fight about it.

The implications of that were staggering. Even Robin, whose love of revolutionary discoveries was unrivaled, had to wonder if Eclectia was ready to face this.

Test of Manhood

by Kaye Jeffreys - 

Enue climbed the sharp rock slope, careful to mimic the motion of the wind so the spider would not sense him coming. He clutched his spear in his hand, careful to keep it from clanking against the rock and alerting the spider to his presence.

The spear was a prize, a gift from his father for this trial. Scavanged from a ruin, it was heavy, made of metal and sharpened to a razor point.

Enue hesitated at the edge. Even over the sound of the wind, the spider scratched and bellowed. This was not the lethal silence of the hunter they had prepared him for. He peered over the edge down into a cave. His stomach depressed with disappointment. The spider wasn't very big, only about the size of Enue himself.

The spider hobbled and swayed, scraping its head and back against jagged rock. It stopped only to bellow or screech, shaking its head and rubbing it against its leg. It must be wounded or ill. Why else would it rock and turn itself in such a strange dance?

There was an egg sac webbed to the wall that would be a prize back home among his people. But he must deal with the spider first.

Enue waited for the beast to turn its back to him while it ground its head into the floor of the cave.

Enue leapt down into the lair upon a boulder. He plunged his spear into the back of the spider, wedging it between two plates. It took all his strength to pin the beast to the floor.

The spider spun around the spear, blindly grasping all around, but it could not reach Enue. The beast slowed until finally it collapsed into a heap ending its dance with death in defeat.

Enue waited. When the death stench burned his nose, he withdrew his spear and dropped to the floor of the cave. The spider's pinchers were no longer than his middle finger, acceptable but not exceptional. Enue sawed them off with his knife and put them into his pouch. He turned to the egg sac on the wall, cut it free, and slipped it into his pouch with the pinchers.

He climbed out of the cave to escape the foul odor and descended the slope to stand amidst gurgling geysers that warmed him and steamed his nostrils clean of the smell. Pulling the pinchers again from his pouch, he examined them with a clearer head away from the stink of the cave. The pinchers looked even smaller out in the open than what they did in the cave. He shook his head and put them back in the pouch. He'd hold onto them in case he did not cross the path of another spider, then at least he wouldn't go back empty handed. But this little spider was too easy, and diseased, not a true test.

Enue pulled out the egg sac. It would not keep until he could get back. It neared the time of expulsion when hundreds of little spiders would stream out. Enue held the sac over a bubbling geyser and dropped it.

Then he turned his face toward the deep wilderness, away from home and safety. He had to find a bigger spider, a true test. Then it would be proven that he was a man.

Where Angels Sing 1: Wizard's Recruit

by Peter H. Solomon - 

"So what's the job?" Tayla asked. She sipped her drink and gazed casually about before moving to leave when the thin wizard hesitated at her question.

His slender hand covered Tayla's and she paused. The sounds of the pub pulsed around them. Songs rang in her ears. She relaxed in her seat.

"Time is money for someone in my line of work," said Tayla. "So let's get to the point, shall we, wizard?"

"I’m Creston," he murmured.

"Creston it is," Tayla answered, though she doubted this was his real name. She drummed her fingers and looked at her glass, catching a warped reflection of her dark eyes; she sought sign of anyone spying in other images captured there. Tayla raised her gaze to the wizard, but neither asked for his full name nor gave her own, just in case questions were ever asked.

The wizard sighed, glanced sidelong at the nearest patrons and said, "I have – sponsors – who want something done. They have provided a ship…"

As a smuggler, Tayla understood the hesitance but her body tensed for action anyway. "I don't need to know what it is…just how much, how dangerous and where to get it. I have my own ship, and I like to use it."

Creston shook his head and waved his long hand, saying, "There are no goods. But you must use our ship. It's for scanning, special scanning."

Tayla's eyes narrowed. There had to be more. "I have sensors. What are you studying?"

The clatter of cups and murmur of voices melded with the song, a strangely eerie melody Tayla found it impossible to ignore. The wizard licked his thin lips and leaned closer to speak, "There are rumors my clients want confirmed. Rumors about angels." His sunken cheeks flushed, contrasting with pale hair.

Tayla eased her right hand to a hidden weapon and leaned closer to Creston. Her voice rang with challenge. "What rumors? You want to scan for angels from a ship?"

Creston motioned for quiet and whispered harshly, "Shh, shh. Not so loud. I need to know something first." He paused again to check whether anyone was watching, although Tayla supposed anyone could use a listening device. He continued, "Do you hear them? Angels – do you hear their song from here? There are rumors some people can…"

Tayla shrank back, heart thumping. Surely he couldn’t… She took a sip of her golden drink that turned into several long gulps. Then she slammed the cup down, blinked at the wizard as she wiped foam from her mouth and then said, "This will cost you big time, wizard."

It took a few moments for her meaning to register on the wizard's face, but when it did, a smile spread wide. "We expected as much." He slid a small note to Tayla.

The smuggler peeked under the note. She held onto her poker-face – they really wanted to know something. Tayla grinned sly agreement.

Creston downed the shot of sweaty, purple alcohol and stuck out his hand.

Tayla spit in her palm and smacked Creston's with a firm grip of her own. The wizard winced. Shutting her eyes, Tayla let the sweet whispering of angel song sweep over her through the babble of the pub.

Game Changer Part 1

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Robin Corpsman kept clean living quarters. For all the faults he willingly owned up to, he at least had that to his credit. Weekly room checks during his years at boarding school and the university had trained him well.

There were times when clutter was a necessary evil, though, and this was one of them. The table in his hotel room was a wreck of books and diagrams surrounding the disk Robin had bought from the fisherman, Burt.

He had transcribed the symbols from the disk onto paper—reading them line by line was easier than following their spiral—and was now beginning the process of comparing them with the symbols in Hanks’ book.

He’d been surprised at how quickly Trinity had responded to his request for informational resources. Ernesto Hanks and his work weren’t exactly lauded in the academic community, and yet the archaeology department had gotten a copy to Robin in just a couple of days. They must be getting antsy for a big find—it had been a while since their last one—and Robin’s descriptions of the disk must have seemed irresistible.

They wouldn’t be disappointed. Robin was only a few lines in, and already his heart was pounding, his hands shaking. His excitement grew with every symbol he translated and transcribed into his notebook. This was incredible: the artifact was angel-made.

Hanks was right about everything—angel writing, angel intelligence and civilization, all of it. If he was right about that, Robin could see no reason Hanks couldn’t have been right in his theories of angel-human interaction, too.

It was amazing. The very beginning of the inscription was a short list of meaningless words that Robin guessed were names, followed by an account of the angels’ decision to colonize some kind of headland somewhere, above water. Incredible! There were legends about this, theories thrown around by the most radical dreamers and speculators, but who would have guessed those dreamers were right all along?

This very premise of this find went against everything Robin had learned about angels. It was almost more than he could process and accept at one time.

It would take time to translate the disk, at least another day, but God only knew what he could have learned by then. This was going to revolutionize the academic world—maybe the world in general. Whether he ever succeeded in finding Empathia or not, the find in front of him not only had the potential to secure his future, but to open the door to a whole new world of knowledge.

Uncertain Injury

by Travis Perry -

 “Front or back?” demanded Ernsto in a low voice.

For an instant, Jax wondered front or back what? But then his mouth said, “Front,” and he stepped forward with the spear, eyes searching for any bit of rock he could quickly scramble to the top of to lure the beetle coming down the draw into a standing position, exposing its lungs.

A quick glimpse cast backward showed the man he’d just met pull himself out of the sand, moving backward toward the aggressive male coriander on the rock pile behind them, his very large knife gripped in his right hand. Snapped back forward, his eyes registered the beetle from above now charging down the draw, grunting in rage.

Many possible rock formations lay in view—all good, none great. With reaction time running out, Jax charged a fractured boulder to his left and leapt upon it in a single adrenaline-fueled bound. He just managed to raise his hands over his head as the beetle hit the rock. It paused a moment then flipped up to a standing position, the four lower legs on the ground, its pinchers and upper two legs clawing at its higher opponent—Jax.

The edge of the book lung showed itself near the bottom of the beetle, close to the ground, close to the boulder. It would have been relatively easy to miss the target for someone too nervous or plain terrified. But Jax had done this many times before…his pulse pounded and his body trembled with the rush of fight-or-flight chemicals that naturally flooded into his bloodstream, but his mind was focused and clear—the spear flew down in a very short throw, sinking straight into the lung with a psssh of releasing air.

The mortally-wounded bug was not dead yet. It shook, as if with rage, and dropped back down on all sixes and charged up the boulder, pinchers hammering together. Jax lept backward, landing on hands and feet just behind the rock. Before him he witnessed the butt of the spear wedge into a crack of the boulder as the massive beetle plowed forward. Its inertia only drove the spear deeper into its body. It twitched but stopped moving forward, its yardball-sized head advancing no further than just beyond the boulder’s peak.

“Help!” the voice came from to his left. Glancing that way, he saw a headless coriander beetle that clearly had kept charging forward after its decapitation, which must have impacted into Ernsto and knocked him down because now it was dragging him forward, pushing him by the beetle’s undercarriage, its headless neck gushing fluids on the human’s face as it plowed Ernsto forward nearly at full speed, tearing the man’s back across the ground.

This was bad. Jax knew a coriander beetle could live a long time without its head.

Itsy Bitsy

by Kaye Jeffreys -

The summer night was not unbearably warm, thought Jereth. Although the extremes in temperature were the hardest thing for him to get used to on the surface of Eclectia, tonight when he sat down to relax he eventually stopped perspiring. He settled back into a surprisingly comfortable, collapsible chair. Next to him, Uncle Logan sat in a swinging chair that hung from a beam supported by two sheltered wagons. It was the only one they had and the favorite seat in the circle. Logan had the honor of sitting in it now as he swung his sleeping granddaughter on his lap. Someone absently strummed a rickety stringed instrument nearby.

The sound of grit blasting the metal sheets over Jereth's head was deafening in comparison to the rattling of the circuit office window back in Woodless Valley somewhere near civilization. But after a few days it had become background noise to the activity of Apollo Unit's circle while they waited out the storm.

Kellie approached and reached for the child on Logan's lap.

"She's fine here." Uncle Logan smiled.

"Rose is going to tell Itsy Bitsy. I want my baby sleeping in her cubicle before the story starts."

Logan grimaced and handed the little girl off to her mother.

Rose approached the tack box, stepped up, and faced the small congregation of people with her eyes closed. Her somber face, bare arms, and coarsely woven shirt reflected the flickering orange and black patterns of a nearby oil lamp. The stringed instrument fell silent. Rose took a deep breath then opened her eyes wide and recited in a steady voice.

"Long ago

Near the time of the beginning

Darkness came

The angels stopped singing

What is this

The time of gleaning?

Where to go

Away from this stinging?"

Then Rose relaxed and took on her storytelling stance. She glanced around the circle, making eye contact with a few of her listeners.

"Eclectia sat upon her orbit, warm and firm. The early colonists saw her beauty and they settled there singing, 'Arise, Avenir Eclectia. Be strong, Avenir Eclectia. Stand firm, Eclectia, live on, Avenir Eclectia." Rose raised her arms even with her shoulders as she sung and smiled promise and hope.

"But then, the mountains erupted." She threw up her arms over her head. "And the big bugs marched." She marched in place on her box. "And they knew with all of her beauty Eclectia was a dangerous place for men." Anyone else marching on a metal box would look silly. But somehow, in storytelling mode, Rose could pull it off.

Rose stood still again and looked straight ahead. "But there was no greater danger than..."

She crouched down, got a wild look in her eye, put her hand out in front of her, and wiggled her fingers like a bug.

"A gnat, a mite,

a tiny spider,

took to flight

and sat down beside her."

Rose stood up again into her casual story mode. "Merreth Morrett and wife Sara led their family out into the waste. They had gear, they had supplies, and they intended to stake a claim. 'Arise, be strong, stand firm, live on,' they chanted from Merreth down to his youngest child, baby Jayne. They chanted with hope and promise as they steered their land rover out into the swirly grit."

Rose clasped her hands together. "There was a pond in a valley fed by a spring that spouted out of the side of a cliff. More than lavabush grew around the pond. It looked like a garden sheltered from the wind and waste."

Rose looked around her in amazement as though she saw the garden with her own eyes. "This was it. They knew it. Perfect in all things, except..." This time several joined in with her as she crouched and recited:

"A gnat, a mite

a tiny spider

took to flight

and sat down beside her.

"The purity of the water from that plentiful spring amazed the family and they drank their fill. But in the night something attacked baby Jayne. She clawed her skin and cried out in pain because..." more joined in with her.

"A gnat, a mite

a tiny spider

took to flight

and sat down beside her.

"'It was the water,' they said, 'an undetected toxin.' They filtered and purified and comforted little Jayne. But all she could do was cry and say, 'my body, my head, I wish I were dead.' 'Do not speak thus,' her mother Sara soothed. But soon another child cried out in the night, and then another until one by one, all four in agony died, because...

"A gnat, a mite

a tiny spider

took to flight

and sat down beside her."

The hairs on Jereth's neck tingled.

Rose dropped her head into her hands and held it there as she said. "Merreth cradled Jayne in his arms as the skies opened and poured down rain. He shook his fist at the spring-spouting cliff and cursed the day he led his family away from the safety of the colony."

Rose lifted up her head with worry in her eyes. "The safety of the colony." Determination replaced worry. "The safety of the colony.

"And then Merreth knew what he and Sara must do."

Rose turned to look at some unseen person next to her. "We must preserve the colony, Sara. We must save the colonists from this deceptive place, this false garden, this paradise of pain and death."

Rose turned her head the other way to respond to herself, "But what can we do, Merreth, my love? How can we save them?"

Rose turned back, "There is only one way. We must destroy it all, bury it all and leave no trace."

Rose looked back at her listeners. "They guided the land rover to the base of the cliff. They clawed their skin and cried out in pain out in the torrential rain as they rewired their machine. They kissed one another and sang, 'Arise, be strong, stand firm, live on, Avenir Eclectia... live on and on...'

"Merreth touched off the wires and the explosion could be seen for a hundred miles. The cliff and the spring collapsed on the pond and the garden. And the colony was safe, the tiny mite was stopped.

"Or was it?"

Then Rose stiffened and made her eyes wide as she tipped her head back and looked down on Apollo Unit. She quavered her voice as she slowly sang,

"Itsy bitsy spider

went up the water spout

down came the rain

and washed the spider out

Out came the sun

and dried up all the rain

and Itsy Bitsy spider

climbed up the spout again."

The hair on the back of Jereth's head felt like electricity. He turned to Logan and asked, "Where is Itsy Bitsy and this garden buried?"

Logan bore into Jereth with his eyes, "Don't believe this story. There is no such thing as Itsy Bitsy. It was made up by the people on Avenir to scare us away from striking out on our own and to keep us from scattering seeds."

Jereth sat back into his chair, rubbed the back of his neck to coax his hair flat again, and worked to convince himself that there was no such thing as Itsy Bitsy.