shaugahaga-blog

[shaugahaga-blog]

FastNotepad

The Profession of Arms

In Care to My Good Sir, General Salazar. I have recently been briefed on your newest offensive proposal. I believe you have spent to many nights sleeping in the heat of your war tent. I think perhaps you have taken fever. A fever is the only reason I can imagine for you to have taken such leave of your senses. If I understand correctly, you are proposing a calvary charge up The Hill and even past it all the way to The Border. My god, man, I know you earned your stripes in the calvary so it surprises me that you would send so many calvary men to their deaths. I have no doubt that enemy activity on The Hill is light. General Bauer is almost certainly wants you ride up on the Hill and on towards the Border. Once over The Hill, I tell you, you’ll find yourself surrounded by Bauer’s men. If you read my book, “The Profession of Arms” you would see the trap for what it is and march your men along the River protecting my flank as I push Bauer back to the Border with my Company smashing down upon him from the Valley. Do not seek to beat the enemy in one great charge. That sort of thing might have worked in your father’s Day. But Modern warfare requires a more cautious approach. Your friend and ally, General Mendell

In Care to My Old Friend General Mendell I appreciate your concern for my health. To be sure, it is much hotter commanding an army from the field than it is from your armchair, but it allows me a clear view of the necessities of this war. I have read your book, my friend, but if you had read my book, “Waging War Professionally” you would realize that the Valley is, in fact, the death trap. I’m amazed you would ask me to wait for your company to attack General Bauer from the Valley when your “cautious” approach has kept you back at the Trenches pinned by General Zimmerman all year. I’m glad you remember my father, author of “War and the Professional” which I assume you read at your fancy school. I suggest you read it again. In it my father calls your reliance on engineers and recon deployment a surefire way to make war go on for years, killing more young men in the long run. Please stick to your arm chair. In peace time I’m sure you will be a great theoretical general. Leave war time to us professionals. I will take the Hill, and the Border and I will see you in The City. Toasting to your health, General Salazar

Dear Gentlemen Generals Salazar and Mendell This feud between the two of you is doing nobody any good. Except perhaps General Bauer and General Zimmerman. General Mendell, it is my considered opinion that your slow progress is uninspiring. What’s worse is my publicist tells me that it is thoroughly unpopular. General Salazar, in regards to your Offensive proposal, I am inclined to agree with General Mendell. Taking the Hill in brazen fury simply opens up to many chances of disaster. The only sure way to reach the Border is via the River. I’ve already drawn up a decisive strategy for pushing my fleet up the River. The enemies armies have clearly overwhelmed both of your capabilities. A naval engagement is the only viable option left to us. In my book “The Naval Profession” I outlined specifically the necessity for augmenting the army with Naval deployment. With minimal loss of life I will reclaim the Border. The two of you would be best off protecting my western flank. In sincere admiration, Admiral Dumas

To His Most Distinguished, Admiral Dumas

Dear, sir, I appreciate that your advice, however I have no need to hear from your publicist, I have my own who has served me faithfully since my first book, “A Professional’s Guide to War”. Further more, General Zimmerman’s army finally broke. I am currently moving my company towards the Valley. Forget your foolish plans for the Valley, or The River. I have pushed Zimmerman into retreat. General Bauer is next.

See you in The City, General Mendell

To The Cabal of Fools losing this war.

I can’t believe what has happened in my absence. I leave the front for three months to go on a book tour for my newest book, “Military Engagement and the Professional” and everything has gone to hell. The Esteemed Admiral wants to fight a naval battle on land, Salazar believes he can march all the way to the City in on charge, and Mendell wants credit for catching up to the rest of us. Gentleman, Salazar is right, the Hill is the key to reaching the Border, but it can’t be taken with Calvary. Artillery my boys. It worked on the other front, it can work here. To help you understand this simple concept, I have sent each of you a signed copy of my book. Happy Reading, General Samson

To My New Colleagues, I would like to take the time to introduce myself. I am General Mendell’s replacement. After the disaster in The Valley, General Mendell’s popularity hit an all time low and his removal was unavoidable. Now, you may not have heard much about my military experience but I have written five best sellers in the genre of military strategy including the “Profession of Victory” trilogy. I propose to succeed where Mendell failed by implementing the use of spy planes for intel rather than reconnaissance units.

To Our Glorious Victory, General Caldwell

To The Doomed son of the great General Salazar, General Salazar.

Please Listen to me son. I served with your father. We wrote “The Profession of Military Engagement” together. Allow me to take the Hill with my mortars. Your Calvary plan is doomed. I even the new guy Caldwell can see that, and he’s an idiot. Rather than blunder into a trap you could have the honor of protecting my flank. Don’t be a fool like Caldwell or crack pot like Admiral Dumas.

Your only chance, General Samson

To the esteemed, General Samson

General Salazar is dead. He fell prey to my ambush yesterday. I overtook his company in retreat. I am just now occupying his field tent and going through his old correspondence. I’m afraid he never received your last letter. And he never will. I had him flayed and crucified for the crime of serving your corrupt empire. The same fate awaits all of you!

Your Eternal Enemy, General Bauer. P.S. In regards to your assessment of General Caldwell and Admiral Dumas we are in complete agreement. Who attempts the exact same strategy that cost their predecessor their job? Substituting one type of recon for another. This is typical of Generals that are overly dependent on intelligence reports. In my book “The Bloodiest Profession” I make it very clear that intelligence reports are dubious at best. The best strategy is the oldest strategy. One of shock and terror. As far as Dumas is concerned, I think he feeling the effect of his usefulness disappearing. Wars are not doubt at sea anymore. I look forward to putting him out of his misery.

Dear Old Friends. I’m back! After the total failure of my predecessor in The Valley and after the tremendous success of my newest book “The Informed Professional Approach to Combat” I have been reinstated. Unfortunately under Caldwell’s leadership, we have lost track of General Zimmerman’s movement. So I am moving my company south. Since General Bauer is mobilising against General Samson I propose to attack him from his flank. You two just keep him occupied. Your retuning companion, General Mendell

To General Samson

Don’t get your hopes up on Mendell. Apparently he was ambushed by Zimmerman again. However, I had an interesting idea while having breakfast with my agent. You and I could combine strategies. You first proposed artillery. My ship’s could provide shell cover from the River as you send calvary up the Hill as the late General Salazar attempted. This would give us an opportunity to write a collaborative book. “The many Professions of War” working title. Tell me what you think. At your service, Admiral Dumas

To Admiral Dumas

I see it’s true that news travels slow at sea. My company has already taken the Hill. General Bauer has been defeated. Unfortunately we had no time to celebrate. General Zimmerman has us completely surrounded. No matter what we attempt he has a counter for. It’s as if he can read our minds. I fear this war is lost. General Zimmerman is the most brilliant opponent I have ever faced.

Final regards, General Samson the mysterious, General Zimmerman

I understand you have taken every friendly port I have left. As it is I have no choice but to sail my fleet to you under the white flag of surrender. Your leadership has been exemplary. Before I step ashore and hand you my saber, I must have you answer this question. I know very little about you, sir. Before this war I had never heard of you. Yet you seem to have the greatest military mind of this generation. What is your secret? How do you always know when to hunker down and when to charge? How do you choose calvary or artillery? Where does this clarity of battle come from? Your beaten adversary, Admiral Dumas

To the Enemy,

I read a lot.

General Zimmerman

[shaugahaga-blog]

Laylo the Mariner conclusion

Laylo and four of her explorers strapped into the payload seats of surface shuttle C. The Red Star. Laylo thought about how long she had searched for the mysterious light in the sky that she saw as a child. She had lost count of how many times she had strapped into one of the six rockets used to shuttle the humans off and on her planet. The human called her planet “Avalon”. Her people never came up with a name for their planet. They didn’t know they needed one. Everything was just dirt, or stone, or sea.

Laylo could hear the tower commander counting down over the intercom. Laylo recognised the voice. It was Lt. Commander Katherine Watson. Kathy. She just returned to duty from her maternity leave.

“…zero” Kathy’s voice announced through the speaker. Zero was another term that her people never had a word for. The shuttle blasted off with it’s typical fury and thunder and Laylo’s weekly commute to space was underway.

They arrived at the Obama Arc. A massive space fairing vessel that had brought these refugees to her home all the way from a world called Earth. Laylo had learned that Obama was one of twenty three Arcs launched into space. All were named after great leaders in Earth’s history. Much of Laylo’s time was spent helping the humans search the stars for the other arcs.

Shuttle C docked with Obama. The shuttle compliment of human techs and Avalonian assistants unstrapped from their chairs and floated through the air lock. Laylo passed a view port and saw her beautiful planet. A purple and blue gem amongst the stars. It was no wonder the humans were drawn to such beauty.

Her eyes fell upon the green imperfection. The human settlement was growing. Two years ago it was just a green peninsula on the western continent. The green had tripped in size. She looked to the eastern continent and thought about her home.

They would still be living the lives that she left. Fishing and trapping small animals. Gathering the fruits of the forest. Making pottery with stories in the patterns. She wished she could just floating from the human ship down to her home. She missed her simple hut. She missed sailing.

Laylo reported to her station. She hooked her belt to the console she worked at. Laylo used the human technology to search for possible signals from the other arcs. Doctor Charles Nivens floated onto the bridge.

“Good morning, Laylo. It’s good to have you back up here.” He said in the human tongue. All of Laylo’s mariners had learned this tongue by now. None of the humans bothered to learn their language.

“Good morning, Dr. Nivens.” She replied politely.

“I want to shift our focus to sector B-45. If the Roosevelt followed it’s planned course it may have been forced to detour through that sector to avoid the radiation storm we picked up last week.” He announced to the room. Everyone calibrated their instruments accordingly.

Laylo scanned for ambient radiation. She compared her readings with a key that was provided for her. Her tasks were simple. A child could learn the steps involved in her duty even if they didn’t understand the significance behind the duty.

After a few hours Laylo’s shift was relieved. Laylo went to the mess to eat. The Avalonians already grabbed a table. It wasn’t difficult to get a table in the mess. Most of the humans who came aboard the arc had settled the surface. The massive dinning chamber was meant to host over a thousand humans. Only a few dozen were aboard the Obama at anytime. Evidently they had their full of space.

That was one of the reasons the humans were so quick to teach the Avalonians about their technology. It meant fewer people would have to return to the hulking ship that had been a prison to generations of their ancestors.

Laylo sat down. Around her were Meltab, her second, Varlo, Nab, Sturk, and Jayo. Most of her surviving expedition. Three remained below. Two were helping map the western continent. Haillok was helping in the greenhouse.

“Did you receive another signal?” Laylo asked Meltab.

“We managed to make it look like part of an ion storm.” Meltab replied. For the past month, Laylo and her people had been receiving signals from the Lincoln. Fortunately the humans were too understaffed on the Obama to pay close attention to the Avalonian stations. The whole point of Avalonian labor was to keep humans on the surface after all. It never occurred to the humans that the Avalonians could figure out how to doctor the readings.

“They are persistent.” Varlo grumbled.

“No. They are desperate.” Laylo countered. She took no pleasure in what she was doing. “Keep masking our transponder.” She finished.

“That might not be enough, Laylo” Meltab whispered. “Even if we convince them their are no humans on our world, they are still looking at us. They will reach the same conclusion that the Obama crew came to. That this world is a prime candidate for settlement.”

Laylo briefly marveled at how different their conversations had become.

“Just keep them from talking to the Obama. We will deal with the Lincoln if and when it arrives.”

“That might be sooner than later.” Sturk offered. If they move at full speed from their current position the Lincoln could be here in less than a month.“

"They are that close!” Laylo was stunned.

“Like I said” Meltab said, “they were probably coming to our world regardless of whether or not the Obama is here.”

“Just keep the humans in the dark. I’ll figure something out.” Laylo disconnected from the table and floated to her quarters. Doctor Nivens made sure she received an officer’s suite. It was a kind gesture. She had her own room, her own bathroom, a nicer sleeping pod, a wardrobe and a mirror. She looked in the mirror. She felt old. She was already older than her mother was when they saw that fateful red star.

She buckled herself into her bed and tried to sleep. She still had trouble sleeping in zero gravity. When it was clear that she wouldn’t get any rest that night she detached from her sleeping pod and accessed her terminal. She decided to spend another night reading the history of her strange captors.

After several hours reading about “the atomic age” she heard the bell for the morning shift. Back to work.

The next two days passed quickly and Laylo found herself on shuttle A, heading back to the surface.

More humans were coming. Thousands more humans. They will seed more of her home with there green forests. Breed their strange insects and rodents.

Doctor Nivens had assured her that they would keep to the western continent. Laylo knew he meant it too. But he could not speak for the arc approaching. Nor could he speak for the humans not yet born. She had been studying the humans and she knew of there appetites. They would come for her people sooner or later.

Laylo stepped off the shuttle, happy to be embraced by her world’s gravity again.

“Welcome back.” A human tech shouted to the disembarking passengers. Laylo left the platform as quickly as she could. She needed space. As she stepped into the main courtyard of the docking facility she closed her eyes and drank in the warmth of her sun. When she closed her eyes she could almost feel home. When she opened them her vision was once again assaulted with vibrant green trees and giant grey buildings.

“I heard you had returned.” Chaylo, the Avalonian who worked in the greenhouse approached her.

“They’re coming, Chaylo. At least two thousands of them.”

Chaylo paused. Her skin briefly turned pink but she caught herself and changed it back to green. The Avalonians felt it prudent not to broadcast their emotions amongst the humans.

“Come and have a meal with me in the garden.” The “garden” was a tiny plot that the agricultural director allowed Chaylo to grow native plants in. It was a refuge for the Avalonians.

“Tell me your thoughts, Laylo.”

“I am so sorry for bringing you here.”

“So you’ve said. Many times.” Chaylo smiled. “You could not have known these people would be here. You have done no evil.”

“Even so, I must do evil now.”

Chaylo considered those words. “I believe you will make the right choice for our people.”

After the meal Laylo contacted Meltab on the communicator the humans had commissioned her.

“Meltab, are you alone?”

After a pause, “I am now. What is it?”

“You are to let the human contact the Lincoln.”

“Laylo…”

“If the Lincoln is coming anyway then we must not give the humans reason not to trust us. Do as I say.”

“As you wish.”

There was a massive celebration that night. Spectacle that Laylo could never imagine. Music of such cacophony Laylo felt her ears may bleed. With music came dancing. The humans strung up lights of every colour. They shot beams of light into the sky, where they were accompanied by explosions called “fireworks”.

Laylo instructed the Avalonians to join the humans in their festivities. Work assignments were not assigned the next day. While the humans took their day of rest the Avalonians got to work. The impromptu holiday meant there would be fewer humans to notice the Avalonian activities.

Jaylo and Varlo spent enough time assisting the techs in their engine repair. They knew how the docking latches worked and knew exactly how to sabotage them. The following day shuttles B and C were scheduled to take a full compliment up to the Obama. The Avalonians were prepared.

Shortly after take off Laylo and her crew put on the gas masks that were once worn by the humans hunting her and her men in the forest. The scientists on the shuttle stared in confusion. Laylo produced a cannister of the same gas that had been used to capture her years ago. She pulled the pin.

The cockpit couldn’t hear anything in the payload bay over the sounds of the engines. The Avalonians waited in the back and allowed the pilots to communicate with the Obama normally and dock the shuttles for them

Once they felt the airlock clamp into place, Varlo leapt to the cockpit and slit the pilots’ throat. Laylo contacted Sturk on the other shuttle to check on the outcome of their takeover. So far everything was going according to plan.

Varlo slit the throats of all the unconscious scientists. Laylo felt guilty as the cabin filled with floating blood but they were as good as dead anyway and they couldn’t risk them waking up behind them.

Most of the Obama crew was still on the surface for the day off. Only a skeletal crew remained. That still meant that the five Avalonians would be outnumbered three to one. Laylo needed to keep surprise on her side. Laylo, Meltab and Nab floated into the docking port one by one. Varlo and Skurra stayed in their shuttle cockpits. Only one poor unarmed tech was there to greet them. Laylo knew her as Madison. She was nice. Madison would usually greet them with a big smile. Today her smile melted into a terrified expression as she saw three blood soaked Avalonians approach her. Meltab shot her before she could scream. The bullet pierced the bulkhead. Three seconds of depressurisation before automatic hull repair unit patched it up. That was enough to raise an alarm.

“What happened?” Doctor Nivens’ voice came through on the intercom.

Laylo clicked the communication terminal on. “A brief docking error. Situation has been repaired but we have several injuries. Requesting medical personnel.”

Laylo knew the medical personnel were down on the surface.

“We will scramble Shuttle A with med staff. Meanwhile im sending Paul and Lyn with medkits.” Nivens squaked.

Paul and Lyn showed up quickly. Their throats were cut even quicker. The three hijackers made their way to the bridge. By the time they got there Shuttle A had exploded on the ground. According to Jaylo, rigging the fuel injector to explode was easier than modifying the docking clamps. The center of the human settlement had been destroyed. By now the Avalonians on the ground were in the green forest and on the farms starting fires.

“Step away from the consoles.” Laylo announced with her rifle in hand.

“Laylo?” An incredulous Dr. Nivens whispered.

“Now.” Laylo said simply as Nab locked the door behind them. The planet started to grow larger in the viewport. Skurra and Varlo had begun towing the Obama towards the planet.

"Step away now!" Laylo repeated with her rifle aimed at Dr. Nivens' head.

The bridge crew backed away from their consoles as Laylo and her compatriots took over.

"Give me a signal broadcasted directly at the Lincoln." She ordered

"Done." Nab complied.

Laylo took a breath before speaking. "Attention Crew of the USS Lincoln Arc. This is Laylo, Mariner of Avalon. The human crew of the Obama have all been killed. The weapons and technology of the Obama belong to the inhabitants of this planet."

As if on cue, Shuttle A exploded in a massive fireball on the surface. Jaylo had sabotaged the fuel injector during the celebration the day before. The explosion consumed most of the central settlement. At this point her people on the ground would be setting the farms on fire. Laylo continued.

"Any future attempt to enter our space will be considered hostile and we will fire upon you." This was a gamble. There was no way they could take on another arc now that they lost the element of surprise. Laylo hoped the scarcity of human life was to valuable for them to risk in calling her bluff.

"You will receive no other warning."

Laylo ended the transmission.

"Why, Laylo? We were kind to you." Nivens looked pathetic.

"You came into our home uninvited. Whether you meant to or not you killed two of us. You promise to leave my people alone, and you may mean that, but soon enough your small corner won't be enough. I can not let you bring your people here."

The pathetic expression on Nivens face turned to one of rage. He kicked of the bulkhead and soared towards Laylo until his head exploded on Meltab's bullet. Nab killed the rest of the bridge crew.

No one had attempted to break into the bridge, which meant they were after the shuttles. Laylo, Meltab and Nab races back to the docking bay. Meltab entered first and caught a bullet with his head.

Laylo and Nab took cover in the hall way outside the docking bay. Laylo noticed the humans didn't think to grab gas masks. Always underestimating us, she thought as she pulled another gas canister from her pack.

Nab and Laylo allowed a full two minutes before entering the docking bay. Five unconscious humans floated in the room. Nab killed them one by one. The room was growing thick with floating blood.

Inside the shuttles, Skurra and Varlo had already been killed. The shuttles were no longer towing the Obama towards the planet but gravity would do the rest of the work.

"Laylo. These shuttles have emergency capsules." Nab offered.

"Do you know how they operate?" Laylo asked doubtfully.

"I'm gonna try and figure it out." He said as he crawled into the cockpit of shuttle B. Reaching over the floating dead body of Skurra and of the original human pilot he started fumbling with the controls.

Laylo crawled inside the payload bay and strapped herself into a seat. Much to her surprise, Nab figured out how to launch the emergency capsule. Much to Nab's surprise, that capsule did not include the cockpit. A barrier shut between them and Laylo was hurled away from the shuttle and the falling hulk it was attached to.

Her capsule was in an extreme spin. Laylo felt herself vomit. When the capsule hit the atmosphere, Laylo hit her head. She had no idea how long she was unconscious.

She awoke in her home planet's familiar gravity. The blood and vomit that had been filling the space were now on the floor. Laylo looked outside. She saw only water.

Laylo laughed. She was at sea. The laughter turned to tears and she vomited again. For a while she considered letting herself die. But then she remembered that she was a mariner. She would find her way home and warn her people.

The humans may not arrive this week, but soon they would come. And there will be war on that day.

[shaugahaga-blog]

Laylo the Mariner pt 2

Laylo, Skurra and Fid managed to hide from the odd creatures of the green forest for three days. All the while Laylo inspected the resources of the forest for suitable replacement materials for a new raft.

Some of the trees were supple enough for the work, but they lacked tools. Fid was becoming sullen and insolent. Skurra hadn’t spoke since they found the burnt remains of their vessels. They all had gotten better at blending in with their green environment.

Occasionally they would hear shouting in the distance or the roar of the wheeled transports that Fid had dubbed “growls”. Sometimes one of them would climb a tall tree to get a look at the being who persue them. Laylo came to the conclusion on the third day that the only way they could get the proper tools they needed, they would have to steal them from their hostile hosts.

They decided that a snare was their best chance. They used a green vine in lieu of rope. Did made snare designed to catch the large beasts that dwelled in the mountains back home. Skurra was the fastest runner of the group so he would act as the bait.

After the trap was set, Skurra waited for nightfall then headed into the forrest towards the regular patrol route of the strangers. Laylo and Fid hid under a bush with giant green leaves. They both turned dark green as they waited for Skurra to return.

Laylo heard the loud pops from the strangers’ weapons. The pops were getting closer. Skurra came charging out from the bushes. Two strangers were behind him with weapons that seemed to spot light, sound and fire. Laylo and Fid pulled the vine at their feet. Large rocks tied to a heavy branch fell on the attackers. Laylo and Fir pulled out their fishing knives and leapt upon the strangers. Laylo put her knife against the neck of one of the strangers. Fir plunged his blade into the throat of the other.

Laylo was shocked.

“Fid! What are you doing!” She shouted.

“They killed Skurra!” He snapped back.

Laylo looked ahead, Skurra was laying perfectly still against a tree. He was bleeding profusely from wounds all over his body. The person beneath her began to buck. Instinctively she slashed the throat of her prisoner. Blood poured all over the soil. Laylo wept loudly.

“Laylo, we have to go.” Fid was already holding the weapon of the strangers. “Now. More will be coming.”

Laylo gasped between sobs. She had come to this land uninvited and had now murdered the people who live here. She was absolutely wretched.

“Go.” She said quietly.

“What?”

“You go, I’ll stay.” Laylo heard the strangers approaching already. “You don’t have time to argue. Run!”

Fid ran and left Laylo completely alone for the first time since she left home. God she missed home. She closed her eyes expecting to hear the loud weapons of the strangers but instead she just heard a soft this in the grass next to her. She opened her eyes to see a symmetrical stone like item. Before she could react, a yellow smoke sprayed from the edges of the item. Laylo felt dizzy and soon every thing went black.

She awoke with a headache. She was in clean white garb. It seemed like it was made out of the same material the strangers clothes were made of. She was in a bed. It was softer than any bed she had ever felt.

She rose from the mattress. The walls were impossibly white. A metal chain ran from her ankle to the corner of the bed. It was long enough for her to walk a few steps away from the bed. The floor was cold and hard.

After a few minutes the door opened and one of the strangers entered. He pushed a small table on wheels. The table supported a box like artifact. Laylo backed away from the table and the man behind it. The stranger spoke in the gutteral language of the strangers. Much to Laylo's astonishment the artifact made made a humming noise then spoke in her language.

"Don't be afraid." The device uttered in a male voice.

She looked at the object then she looked into the strange colorful eyes of the man next to it. She replied to him.

"Why did you burn my rafts?"

She and the stranger waited for her words to be twisted into his language. He breathed heavily before he spoke.

"I am very sorry for how events have unfolded. My name is Charles Nivens. We didn't count on your people reaching this continent for quite some time. That's why we set up here."

"You killed all of my men!"

"No, most of your people are safe in this building. Only two of your men were killed. The one we found near you in the forest and another was killed later. He had gotten his hands on one of our weapons and fired at my men. Believe me, I would have preferred there weren't any fatalities."

Fid you idiot.

"What happens now?"

"I don't know. One of the parameters of our mission was to avoid contact with your people."

This confused Laylo. She chose her next question carefully

"What is the red star?"

"I'm not sure I understand."

"We saw a red light in the sky. We sailed towards it."

An understanding expression crossed his face. "The rocket."

He stared at Laylo a minute before answering.

"My people come from the stars." He put simply. "There high above the clouds we have a sort of... Floating village. The light you saw is how we send men and materials to them."

"You come from the stars?" Laylo repeated shocked.

"In fact we come from a world similar to yours. Our vegetation is mostly green rather than purple as I'm sure you've noticed but otherwise quite similar."

Laylo's head was spinning. "When can we return home?"

"I'm not sure that's such a great idea. We can't have your civilization advancing faster than it is ready to."

"Why are you doing this!" She shouted. "Why did you come here?"

"Because we have no choice. Our world is dead. There are not many of us left and what few are left are spread out all over the galaxy. When our vessel discovered your world we couldn't ignore the opportunity. This place can save my people."

"You killed two of my friends."

"And you killed two of mine." He shot back. "I'm willing to move forward if you are."

"You have no right! This not your home. You come here and kill my friends. You capture us and say we can't go home."

"You are an explorer, yes? You can help us map this continent. I can show you world from the stars. You will see wonders that your people are thousands of years away from discovering." After the machine finished translating the room was silent.

After a minute Charles spoke. "Consider it" he concluded as he pushed the table out of the room.

"Charles Nivens?" Laylo asked after him.

"Yes?"

"What happened to your home world?"

Charles hesitated. "We happened" Charles left.

Laylo took the offer. Not like she had a choice. She and her fellow mariners were taken to outer space. They spent the next two years learning the secrets of the universe. Nivens would often remark about the aptitude her people had for engineering and the sciences. Laylo instructed her people to learn all they could. And learn they did. They were treated well and given comfortable living arrangements.

But they never forgot that they were prisoners.

[shaugahaga-blog]

Laylo the Mariner pt 1

Laylo was a mariner. All the women in her family were mariners. She had learned how to construct a pontoon raft out of reeds and lumber by the time she was seven. She had been with her mother when she discovered the small northern island covered with fat birds. She was with her mother when a storm blew them far from that island’s shore. And she was with her mother when, in strange and distant waters, they watched the red star rise to the sky.

It was the most beautiful thing either of them had ever seen. A glorious blinding red light at night. It moved faster then the other lights of the sky. Her mother marked that it could be seen even where the clouds hung. It was nearer than the other stars. Her mother was convincednced that it was a sign that there was land on the far side of the great water. Maybe folk who could explain the fantastic sight the two of them had seen.

The rest of the village doubted the veracity of the tale. Some thought they simply were dehydrated, or that they absorbed too much salt water through there skin. Others thought they were lying.

Those accusations made Laylo so angry that she would turn orange. Her feelers would lay flat on her skull aggressively and the accusers would usually back off. As most mariners did, Laylo had a well earned reputation as a brawler.

Laylo’s mother was obsessed with the red star in the distant sky. She stopped voyaging to the nearby islands for game and crop. Laylo took that responsibility. All of her mother’s time was spent in a cove away from the village. She constructed rafts. Each one larger than the last. She told Laylo to bring back samples of different tree trunks on various islands. Laylo did so dutifully. Eventually they discovered the supple wood from the north made for superior rafts. Then they experimented with various pelts for sails.

For twenty years they worked until finally, Laylo’s mother smiled and said,

“This will do.”

They took their new creation to the open water. It was three times larger than any raft created before. It had two masts instead of one and they reached twice as high as the ones Laylo was used to. And it was fast. Laylo laughed as she felt the sea spray hit her face. She and her mother were both as yellow as the sun. Although getting it back to shore was difficult. They would need more mariners.

Laylo and her mother met with the elders of the village. Laylo watched her mother make an impassioned plea to the old women. It was to be a project like none ever seen. Discovering a land far beyond the horizon. Wonders that no eyes had ever seen would be theirs. The elders gathered together so closely their feelers almost touched. When they returned their skin had turned deep purple. Laylo knew the answer was no.

Mother died layer that season, but Laylo didn’t give up. She continued to improver her vessel’s staring and even expanded it’s size. Every harvest season she would show the village film her progress and petition the elders again. After eleven years of petitions, they finally agreed. Six vessels of f Laylo’s design, each with a crew of five mariners were to set out across the sea at the end of the cold season.

She and and some village laborers worked on the crafts all through the cold season. When the snows began to thaw and purple leaves returned to the forest, they were ready. Thirty mariners set out on the greatest voyage ever known.

They had been at see for three months when the first mariner died. He and the others on his vessel were sick. By the seventh month all of them were dead. A month after that a storm blew three of the vessels away to an unknown fate. Only two vessels remained in the fateful course. And they were hungry.

There had not caught any fish for weeks. The other boat steered close enough to be heard.

“Laylo, we must go back to our waters. The cold season will be on us soon.”

Laylo’s men were tired, hungry and scared. She asked them to follow her quest for one more month. They gave her a week.

That night Laylo stared at the stars. She was tracing the constellations. They had all moved to different parts of the sky. How far from home had they come? As she wondered this, a red glow came from the horizon. She squinted at the distance. Then she saw it. The red star rising. It was much larger than before. She was close.

“Awaken!” She commanded her voyagers.

One by one they woke and observed the phenomenon. The whole party turned almost luminescent yellow. It was the most beautiful thing Laylo had ever seen. After a few minutes it disappeared into the sky, but they all kept looking up for hours.

The following morning they dropped oats and begun pulling themselves towards that glorious light. As they pulled closer they started catching fish again. And birds filled the sky again. Twenty days after they saw the red star, land was spotted in the horizon.

Tears mixed with the sea water on Laylo’s face as she and her men pulled the pontoons of their rafts upon the never before seen beach. The sun was setting so they quickly went about gathering fire wood. The strange trees burned with a sweet smell. Laylo’s heart thundered in her chest. Everything was different and new. She felt giddy as a child.

They laughed, ate cooked fish and, sang songs until exhaustion took them and they slept on the beach. When morning came they woke eager to explore this new land. Seeing the forest in the light of the morning sun allowed Laylo to examine the forest. It was green! How strange. Laylo had never seen green leaves before but here almost all the plants were a shade of green. Two men agreed to stay behind and watch the vessels. Laylo led the remaining men into the forrest.

None spoke. The the wonder of new sights and sounds was overwhelming. Laylo often would close her eyes and listen to the sounds of all the new birds. Occasionally they would stop and examine the odd flowers and fruits. After about an hour they came across prints that appeared to be from someone in footwear.

They followed the prints for ten minutes until they led into a clearing. There they encountered the strangest thing Laylo had ever seen. It looked like a giant shaved tree dweller from the southern continent. It had milky skin like a plucked bird. Some furs grew from it’s head and face. It was dressed in strange garb and held a basket of fruits. It looked back at them with small multicolored eyes. White, green and black centers. After a pause that seemed like an eternity, it made strange sound.

“Fuck”

It dropped the basket and ran into the bush.

“Should we persue it?” The man behind her asked.

“No. This is it’s home not ours. We will return to the beach and decide what to do next. Grab those fruits. They are probably safe to eat.”

That night they tasted the sweet fruits of this land. Laylo felt like a thief. What right did they have to land on these shores and start eating the food.

“Laylo, what do we do?” Asked one of her men.

“In the morning we will gather samples of these strange plants and go home. When we return we will bring offerings to show that we come in peace.”

Everyone accepted this decision sadly. All the excitement of the morning was gone. None of them were eager to return to the sea so soon but a conflict had to be avoided. They retired for the night with heavy hearts.

Laylo awoke that night to a horrific sound. The others stirred awake. From down the coast they heard a thunderous growl.

“What sort of beast makes a noise as this?” She heard a man say. Everyone had turned deep purple in fear. From around trees came a large monster with glowing eyes and a constant roar. The small camp began to run. Laylo stared for a moment. In place of feet this thing had fast moving wheels. It was a vessel of some sort! With this realization she turned and ran with the rest of her men.

The roaring vessel was far to fast for their legs. Some sort of net was loosed upon several men. Loud popping noises could be heard. On of her men dropped every time she heard a pop.

“The forest!” Laylo shouted as she dived into the thick bush. They ran for what seemed like hours. When the commotion on the beach could no longer be heard they paused to catch their breath. Only two of her men, Skurra and Fid remained by her side.

“Why are they hunting us?” Asked Skurra

“That isn’t important right now.” Laylo could hear voices of the terrifying creatures in the distance. “What’s important is we must get back home before we are found. Remove your garbs.” The three of them stripped naked.

“We must mask ourselves and sneak back to our rafts.” Laylo knew this command was desperate. Green was a very difficult color to mimic. Did managed to achieve some form of green but Skurra and Laylo had to settle on black. Hopefully they could get to the beach before the sun rose.

The three mariners quietly made their way through the dark unfamiliar forest. At one point they saw moving lights in the distance and his in a small gully till they passed.

The first rays of the sun were kissing the sand when they reached the beach. Deep tracks from the loud vessels and dozens of foot prints from her scattered people filled the abandoned camp site. Laylo took a few cautious steps out into the light so she could see the shore. Where her two boats should be were two charred piles of lumber. Laylo felt her heart sink. They were trapped in a strange land surrounded by strangers.

[shaugahaga-blog]

All Teeth

Erin was always an odd little girl. Even by the age of five, folks could see she was strange. She didn’t seem too interested in making friends with other kids. She was to wrapped up in her own imagination. She could clearly see creatures and characters that no one else could. Her father joked about his imaginative daughter but as the years went on, he began to worry. He didn’t want her to go nuts like her mother did.

Erin was born in County Claire, Ireland in April 12, 1985. There were no complications for the first child of Sean and Maureen Dwyer. It was a small hospital. Maureen stayed in an adjacent room to the small nursery. The two rooms were separated by a large window. Maureen was grateful that she could keep an eye on her new born.

When Sean came to pick up his family in the morning, Maureen was in histerics.

“It took her! It took her!” She screamed over and over! Panicked, Sean ran into the nursery where he found little Erin smiling up at him. The hospital staff eventually gave Maureen a tranquilizer. She was never the same after that.

She would insist that the beautiful little girl living with them was an imposter. In her more lucid moments she would describe the horrible creature that crawled into the nursery. It had a human body but it wore no clothes over it’s grey skin. It had unnaturally long fingers and a face that was “all teeth”. She would describe the sack it dragged into it that was black as night. As if one could carve out a piece of the night and make it into a bag.

The beast simply stepped out of a shadow. Soon it was looming over her baby. She gasped and the creature’s head turned towards her. She saw a gaping hole where it’s face should be, filled with therethrough in various shapes and sizes. As soon as she gazed upon it she was frozen. She couldn’t move or speak. Or scream as she watched the horror reach into her baby’s crib, lift the child out, and place her into it’s sack.

When the creature withdrew it’s arm it was holding a new baby. This baby had the same great skin, the same long fingers, and the same horrid maw in place of a face. As the monster stepped back into the shadows Maureen began to scream. And scream.

Everyone knew this was nonsense, of course. The security footage of the night showed nothing out of the ordinary. But Maureen couldn’t accept that she was simply the victim of a nightmare. She never touched her daughter. She refused to acknowledge her at home. Eventually, Maureen tried to kill Erin.

Shortly after Erin’s third birthday, Sean felt Maureen leave his bed. He groggily got up to check on her. He found Maureen in Erin’s room with a pillow over Erin’s sleeping face. Sean saved Erin just in time. Maureen had to go away after that.

Erin loved her father Sean. By all accounts he was the only real friend she had. He would listen to her go on all day about the strange faeries and arrange folk she could see. But the kids in school were starting to make fun of her. Sean slowly became less and less encouraging of these fantasies until he would simply say,

“Erin, don’t tell lies.”

Erin caught on and stopped talking about her strange friends that no one could see. Eventually she stopped seeing them too. This was an immense relief to Sean. Around the age of ten, Erin began making friends at school and seemed to all a normal girl. Except when Sean would take pictures of her. Whenever Sean would shake a Polaroid photo, he could swear he saw a different face on his daughter through the developing image. A face that was all teeth.

The years went on. Erin made friends and good grades. She had forgotten about the strange folk she used to see. Until she slept. Her dreams were filled with horrors that felt bizarrely familiar to her. But morning would come and they would be forgotten again.

When Erin was fifteen, a new term had entered her and everyone else’s lexicon. “Y2k bug”. The kids in her school could talk of nothing else. Erin didn’t fully understand what it was. From what she could gather from other fifteen year old students, the year 2000 was going to bring some sort of global catastrophe. Some kids said it was the end of the world.

Erin was terrified. For some reason none of the other kids seemed as scared of the prospect of global annihilation as her and this upset her. started spending more time with her father. Sean didn’t know why his teenage daughter wanted to spend time with him all of the sudden but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. For months, every weekend was a father daughter excursion. Picnics, parks, and pony rides. It was a happy time.

On Christmas, Sean took his daughter ice skating. It was Erin’s first time. She fell a lot but she didn’t seem to mind. She had a smile on her face the whole time. Sean wanted to capture that smile so he took a picture.

When it developed he dropped his camera. The camera hit the ice with a loud crack.

“Da, are yeh ok?” Erin shouted.

Sean had already crumpled up the photo in his hands.

“Just slipped, love.” Sean called back. He picketed the photo. Later he threw it in his fire place. He could never let his daughter see that picture. A picture of a grey creature in his daughter’s clothes. Looking towards the camera with a face full of monstrous fangs.

Erin knew something happened out on the ice that night. The following week she felt her father withdraw from her. This broke her heart. The new year was coming and for reasons she didn’t understand, she couldn’t face the new year alone.

On the morning of new years eve, she saw footage on the news of people claiming the end of the world was here. She started to cry. This got Sean’s attention. He appeared next to her and hugged her. Erin felt herself enveloped in strength. Sean felt his strength melt away. The two were locked in a silent embrace for longer than either one could tell. Sean promised Erin he would be by her side until the new year arrived.

True to his word, the two spent the entire day together playing board games. But the clock marched the two of them closer and closer to midnight.

The TV was broadcasting the crowds gathered in Dublin. Sean held Erin’s hand as the countdown began.

“5…4…3…

"Da, I love yeh!” Erin squeezed nervously. Sean squeezed her hand.

“…1!”

The world went black. Erin looked around. The TV, her house, her father even the floor were all gone. She was surrounded by a tangible blackness.

“Da?”

“I’m here child.” Hissed an unfamiliar voice.

Erin spun around. From the darkness stepped a tall grey figure. It towered above Erin who only stood up to it’s navel. It’s gangly arms hung by it’s thighs. One of its massive hands held a black sack. But Erin didn’t notice any of this. All she saw was it’s face.

The head seemed like it was looking at her. It was hard to tell as the beast had no eyes. No ears. No nose. Only a mouth. A wide circle that nearly encompassed it’s entire head. Within this maw were rows of gums and rows of teeth that seemed to go on forever in an oblivion contained in one skull.

Erin immediately remembered. She remembered the fairies that use to play with her. She remembered the cranky headless dulluhuns that juggled their own blood. She remembered the small imps that told her dirty jokes. She felt no fear. She simply asked.

“What am I?”

“My daughter.” Answered her father. And Erin wept. She cried harder than she ever cried before.

“What happened?” She managed to sob.

“The world ended.” There was a long pause before he continued. “Not the end of the world of man, but the world of the Folk will not see the next century.”

“What am I?” Erin asked in a squeak.

“You are a changeling. We you were switched at birth with a human baby that I’ve kept in my sack for fifteen years.”

“You are not my father!” Erin shouted through her own disbelief.

“Look at your hands.” Responded the monster in a fatherly tone. Her hands her grey and long like his. She stood silently staring at her hands.

“Normally we would not have met till you were eighteen. You would have brought me the corpse of the man who raised you and we would have eaten him together.” The beast said casually.

“No!” Erin protested

“Yes” he said simply “you would have.”

“Then why?!” Erin screeched, “why am I meeting you now?!”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Because the world ended.”

Erin collapsed. “So, what happens now?”

Erin wasn’t sure, but she thought the face/hole smiled at her. “We come back. You…” He pointed at her, “will bring us back.”

He reached into his sack and pulled out Erin. The real Erin who was still an infant. “You have a choice. You can take this child and return it to it’s father, or you can kill the father and give us another century on earth. And not just changelings. The Pucas, the leprechauns, the banshees, and faeries of all kinds will return to the world of man. The fate of the Folk is in your hands.” Erin’s father spoke with gaining intensity until the infinite loops of teeth began to shake with fury. Erin didn’t have a chance to respond. In an instant she was sitting with Sean again. He was still holding her hand.

Her other arm held his baby. He turned his head towards her and a confused expression invaded his face.

“Erin, where did that baby come from?”

Erin didn’t answer. A ravenous hunger filled her belly. Sean’s apparent confusion turned to terror.

Erin’s hunger combatted her shame. She knew why her adopted father was frightened. She knew exactly what she looked like right now. She placed the child on the floor. She would save that for later.

After she bit her stepfather’s head off she saw them. The faeries, the sprites, the ogres and elementals. Her old friends. Her Folk. Finally she saw her father as he erupted from the remains of Sean. Together they ate Erin, and welcomed in a new millennium of magic.

[shaugahaga-blog]

Cat Lady

Jenny died on her birthday. It was May sixth 2016. Her boss let her leave work early. She went straight to the animal shelter. Jenny was to young to be a cat lady, but that’s what she was none the less. She just turned forty. Instead of celebrating with friends she got herself a seventh cat. She named it Congress. Congress was an orange tabby. All of her cat’s were rescued except her first one, Magi, who was a gift from an ex boyfriend when she was twenty eight.

The other cats were acquired over her thirties. Cleo, Joan, Albus, Leo, and Snow greeted her at the door when she came home with Congress. She put Congress on the floor. As soon as the other cats realised that Jenny wasn’t giving them food, they dispersed to various hiding places in the apartment.

“Go make friends, Congress.” Jenny said to the animal she just brought into her home. She checked her phone for messages. Five happy birthday messages. Two from her parents. The rest were from co-workers. She noticed the charge on her phone was low so she plugged it in.

She fed the cats. Congress didn’t have his own bowl yet so she pulled one of her own out of the cabinet and put it on the floor. The cats attacked their food with their typical enthusiasm. Now time to feed herself.

Jenny went online and placed an order for a delivery. She bought a calzone and a slice of cheese pizza. Jenny was lactose intolerant so she never got to eat pizza anymore, but it was her birthday. Fuck it.

The pizza arrived promptly and was devoured even more promptly. A half hour later and Jenny was predictably in the bathroom. She was in there for a while. A long while.

She was on the toilet for so long that both her legs, due to the pinched circulation in that position, fell asleep. After she finished, she stood up. Her legs were in a worse state than she knew. The number limbs failed to balance properly. She stumbled a step forward. Panicked, Jenny spun around to lean against the back of her toilet. Her foot came down at a bad angle. All she felt was the numb pins and needles that ran all the way up to her thigh but she heard an alarmingly loud crunch

She attempted to put all her wait on the uninjured foot but her wobbly leg couldn’t take it and down she went. Before she hit the ground she cracked her head on the edge of her bathtub. Everything went dark.

When she came to, she was lying in a puddle of blood. She was dizzy. The bathroom was filled with the smell of the shit she never got a chance to flush. And her new cat was staring at her. She moved her right arm. Something wasn’t right. She was having trouble making it do what she wanted. Her motor control was notably impaired. Jenny’s heart began to race.

Eventually she managed to get her hand inside her pocket. She just needed to dial 911. Then someone would come. Her clumsy fingers only found a quarter and the receipt for her pizza. Her phone was still charging. She passed out again.

She woke up again. She could see the sky through her bathroom window. It was getting late. She scanned the rest of the bathroom. The tiles around her were stained brown with blood. A single fly hovered over her toilet. And all seven of her cat’s were staring at her.

“She’s awake.” Congress announced in an authoritative voice.

“She’s stubborn.” Old Magi said, “you’re stubborn!”

“What?” Jenny mumbled. She was getting very light headed. “You can talk?”

“Obviously” Joan offered.

“Will you help me?”

“No.” Congress answered bluntly. “We are waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Jenny asked incredulously.

“For you to die.” Snow responded.

Jenny couldn’t process what she was hearing. She looked at all the cats that she had spent more than a decade of her life with. They stared back at her with eyes that for the first time were scaring her.

Her arms felt heavy. It was getting hard to breathe. She tried to call out for help but only a feeble whisper left her lips.

“Help.” She cried quietly.

“There is no help.” Congress said. “Only us.”

Jenny felt a sharp pain at the tip of her ring finger. Leo was chewing on it. Jenny tried but her arms lacked the strength to pull away. She heard something next to her head. From what she could tell in her peripheral vision, Albus and Magi were lapping up the blood on the floor that was pouring from her open skull.

It can’t end like this, she thought to herself despite the obvious evidence to the contrary. Congress caught the fly hovering over the toilet and ate it. Jenny had never noticed how brutal the sight of a cat killing and insect was. Congress masticated the poor bug quickly and turned it’s green eyes back towards Jenny. Not like this.

“Like this.” Leo said Leo in-between chomps on her finger. He had managed to draw blood already.

“Like this” repeated Magi between licks of floor blood.

“Like this” the all to close voice of Albus said into her ear right before sinking his teeth into her earlobe.

“Like this” Congress said in his imperial tone of voice. He climbed up on her crotch and looked down. Jenny’s mid drift was showing. Congress started pawing and pulling on her belly button ring.

The pain in her finger was unbearable now. Here eyes moved back to Leo chewing aggressively. She was beginning to see bone.

When would someone find her, she wondered desperately. She thought about her closest friends. She had lost touch with her college friends years ago. She thought of the girls she befriended at the bar down the street. Unfortunately she had never interacted with them outside of the bar. She thought of her co-workers but immediately knew that was stretching the definition of friend. She thought all the birthdays over the years she pretended she was to busy to go to. She thought about how people had stopped inviting her all together. She thought of all the acquaintances that may have been friends. She thought of the family she never called. She thought of the sting she just felt in her cheek.

Joan had scratched her face. The white cat waited to see if there would be any reaction. Jenny once again feebly tried to move. Confident in it’s safety, Joan climbed up on Jenny’s face. It looked her in the eyes.

Jenny started to tear up. She began blinking away the moisture. This really got Joan’s attention. She began swiping at the moving eyelashes. Jenny felt a claw sink into her retina. Then she felt more claws dig in. Moments later, her right eye was watching Joan and Cleo playing with her left eye.

Hours went by. The cats became more and more ravenous as they ate pieces of her. She felt every agonizing moment. She was bleeding from dozens of places. The cats had begun to tear through her clothes.

Jenny found herself hoping the head wound she sustained earlier would kill her sooner than later. At one point she heard the voices of her neighbor from upstairs. She couldn’t scream out so she just listened whilst Cleo pulled a long thin strip of skin off the back of her hand.

She recognised the voice of Raquel. Raquel lived above her. Raquel was a social butterfly. Always trying to organise building parties and activities. Raquel was talking to Cassidy who lived across the hall. They were going out for drinks. Jenny felt a year well up in her remaining eye. She already knew they wouldn’t bother trying to get her to come with them. Why would they bother?

Jenny looked at her cats. Her constant companions. They were unrecognisable now. Perhaps because the fur on their faces was slick with her blood. Fuck these cats, she thought to herself. She dug deep. She found a reservoir of strength she never new she had. She rolled onto her stomach. This sudden motion sent the cats scattering. Jenny pushed herself up to her hands and knees and slowly crawled out of the bathroom.

For some reason she reaches up and flushed the toilet as she passed it. She crawled out into the hallway that led to her den. Congress was sitting on top of her TV, watching her. Jenny stood up.

She began walking to her phone charging on the table. She was going to call help. She was going to survive. She took one graceless step after another. Every motion required herculean effort. Her arm was reaching out a head of her. She must have looked like a zombie. Jenny looked Congress in the eyes allowed a smile to appear on her face. That’s when Cleo tripped her. Her head hit the table on the way down.

Unfortunately this didn’t knock her in, it just created a fresh wound on her forehead that was belching forth blood. The cats leapt on her. They had fully transformed into feral animals. Their purrs sounded like growls. They used their fangs to rip flesh much faster than before. Jenny was being eaten alive.

She turned her head and saw the outlet her phone was plugged into. She clumsily reached for the cord and yanked it. The phone fell from the table. She managed to get her fingers around it. She held it in front of her face. It hadn’t charged. She must not have plugged it in all the way.

“Like this” Congress said as he sank his teeth into her neck.

Jenny died, three hours later. Her body wasn’t discovered for another week. By then there was not much left her or the pizza she'd ordered. There was no sign of the cats that had feasted on her corpse. They had all slipped out the kitchen window and made their way back to the shelter. All of them were adopted into new homes.

[shaugahaga-blog]

Monks pt 2

Over the last two months, Lucas did any and all chores that the old men demanded. He cooked their meals, cleaned their latrines, fed the chickens and washed their robes. During that time he paid careful attention to the goings on. The monks spent most of their time in the largest structure in the cloister, the still. The monks gathered wild apples and pears from the trees in the forrest and created liqueurs and brandy in the still. Based on their demeanor as they exited, Lucas deduced that they spent much of that time sampling the wares, especially Brother Arno.

The diminutive old monks were a curious bunch. In nine weeks he had yet to see them enter the chapel. He never saw them pray. In fact they didn’t even mention Jesus once. The only religious behaviour he’d noticed was Brother Albert’s vow of silence. If it was a vow of silence. Lucas had not yet heard the man speak. Perhaps he was just shy.

Another curiosity was the old stone building. Every Friday night, all seven monks would file in very somberly. Even sick old Leopold would climb out of bed for the occasion. They would not leave till after midnight. Once Lucas asked about the strange ritual.

“Where are you going, Brother Stanislaus?” He asked one Friday evening.

“It is of no concern to you.” Stanislaus replied seriously as he walked towards the mysterious stone hut.

“Perhaps I could be of help.” Lucas offered “If I knew what you were…” Before Lucas finished that thought, Brutus grabbed Lucas by his shirt and shoved him against the giant birch tree with enough force to knock the wind out him.

‘You are not to ask about the lodge again. Understood?“ Brutus snarled. Lucas was astounded by the strength of the small old man.

"I understand.” He gasped.

Brutus unceremoniously dropped Lucas at the roots of the Birch tree and joined his brothers in the “lodge”. Lucas didn’t ask about the lodge again.

Then there was the birch tree. It was the largest tree. Lucas had ever seen. Stranger than the size of the tree was the way the old monks treated it. Every time they walked near it, a sad look crossed their faces. Often they would stop and place a hand on the bark. Lucas even saw mean old Brutus place a soft kiss on it once.

One day, Arno approached Lucas while he was washing the garments in the river.

“Good morning to you, coward.” He called out. It wasn’t mean spirited. None of the monks had bothered to learn his name. They all just called him coward.

“Good morning, brother Arno.” Lucas called back. “Did you need something else cleaned?”

'No no no.“ Arno said in his typical cheerful tone, "I have gift for you.”

That got Lucas’s attention.

“A gift?”

Arno produced a bottle of green liquid.

“Time for you to have a taste!” He giggled excitedly.

“What is it?” Lucas asked with a mixture of eagerness and skepticism.

“This is a special spirit we keep for ourselves.” Arno said with a mischievous grin.

It was a dodgy answer to the question, but Lucas was happy to have a break in the monotony of cloistered life.

Arno pulled the quark out of the bottle. Lucas could smell it immediately. His nostrils were assaulted by a bouquet of jasmine, mushrooms, plums and soil and rain. Arno took a swig and handed the bottle to Lucas.

“Drink deep, Coward.”

Lucas tool a tiny sip. It was not like anything he’d ever tasted before. First he tasted rose petals dipped in nostalgia. As the syrupy beverage moved over his palate he could taste pickled oranges squeezed over an orgasm with a finish of forgotten dreams and mint.

“Jesus!” Lucas shouted. His face reddened when he realised he had just blasphemed in front of a man of God. Arno didn’t seem to notice. He just smiled at Lucas expectantly.

That’s when things got weird.

[shaugahaga-blog]

Monks pt 1

Lucas Maes was at the wrong battle. Six months and three days after Lucas had joined the seventh coalition he got his first taste of battle. If I had been six months and four days he would have come home a hero. Lucas fought on June 16, at the battle of Ligny. Napoleon had caught them by surprise. Again. Lucas was a Calvary man.

When the battle began, Lucas and the rest of his regiment were at a food tent. Lucas managed to grab his saddle but a canon ball had removed two of his horses legs already. Lucas surveyed the battlefield. It didn’t take a military genius to know that the day was lost.

Another canon ball whizzed by his head and he made a decision. The regiment’s commanding officer had just fallen, but the horse was uninjured. Lucas mounted the beast and ran full speed into the Belgium forest, away from the battle of Ligny. This would forever brand him a deserter. The next day, a few miles away, Napoleon lost at a battle called Waterloo.

Lucas Maer could never return to his home in Warsaw. He’d be executed if he was discovered by the army. Lucas followed a stream through the forest. He had been riding through the Belgium woods for three days. His canteen had gone dry on the second day. By sunset on the third day, the thirst overtook him. He dismounted, tied the stolen horse to a tree, kneeled at the bank, and began to drink the water.

The water tasted good. Maybe it was simply his thirst dictating his palate but he could have sworn the water tasted like honey and cloves. He layed back in the soft grass and closes his eyes. He had ridden through the night. A nap sounded pretty good.

Before sleep came to him, the horse began getting agitated. Lucas rolled on his side to examine the commotion. The horse, that Lucas still had no name for, was making all sorts of noises. Suddenly it leapt up and started to pull at the ropes securing it to a tree.

Strange, Lucas thought. This horse was trained for combat, it shouldn’t spook easy. Lucas stood up. Night had completely fallen. He took a cautious step toward the increasingly terrified stallion. Then Lucas heard a musket shot. Followed by voices. Someone was shouting commands.

Was the army already searching for him? He grabbed the rifle hanging on his back. He decided to abandon the horse. The beast couldn’t be saddled in it’s current state and stealing an officer’s horse is probably why the army was so eager to find him now. He waded into the stream.

He had crossed halfway through when he heard another musket fire. Startled, he kissed his foot hold in the water. He slipped and began to be pulled down stream. The river seemed much larger than it had in day light. The current was much stronger than he expected as well. He crashed against stones and tree roots before eventually getting to the other side.

The bruised ex Calvary man lay on the river bank trying to catch his breath. Hopefully his Tumblr through the stream bought him some distance. A twig snapped near by. He looked in the direction of the noise and saw a torch burning. Lucas shot up and reached for a rifle that wasn’t there. Must have lost it in the river. He clenched his fists ready to fight past a squad of soldiers when much to his surprise a monk appeared holding a torch.

“ Come with me.” The old monk said.

Lucas didn’t argue. He followed the monk through the forest. After a few minutes he was led to a clearing with several small structures arranged in a circle around a large birch tree in a courtyard.

Lucas was led into a bunk room full of sleeping old men. His guide opened a trunk on the floor and pulled out a robe.

“Put this on.” The monk ordered.

Lucas bulled the itchy material over his head and tied off the rope around the waist. There was a pounding on the door.

“Hold on, hold on!” The old monk shouted at the door. Lucas saw and heard the other men in the room brain to stir. The first monk opened the door. Behind it stood a middle aged lieutenant.

“Sir, there is a criminal at large in the area!” The clean shaven officer shouted.

“Lower your voice, man.” The old monk replied quietly. “Can’t you tell your in a godly place?”

The officer’s eyes went large with sudden recognition. “I apologize, sir…”

“Brother.” Corrected the monk

“I apologize, brother, but there is a danger…”

“Yes yes, a criminal I heard. What sort of crime did he commit that forces you to caterwaul so in the home of simple monks?”

“Cowardice, s…brother.” answered the uncomfortable officer.

“Cowardice, eh?” The monk’s eyes flicked to Lucas for just split second. “Sounds dreadfully dangerous.”

“Brother if my men could just conduct a search…”

“Young man there isn’t anyone here that doesn’t belong here. Now we old men would like to return to our peace. Go run along to the village and warn the good folks there to be careful of the dangerous coward in their midsts.”

After a pause the embarrassed Officer bid the monk goodnight and retuned to his men. Soon the Lucas heard the sounds of their horses departing. He closed his eyes a moment and released a great big sigh. When he opened them he saw himself surrounded by rather stern old monks.

“So, Brother Stanislaus, you brought us a coward.” A bemused monk sneered.

“Cast no stones, Brother Brutus.” Smiled Lucas’s saviour. “My name is Stanislaus. These are my brothers Arno, Noah, Albert, Leopold, Francis, and Brutus.”

“Stanislaus,” Lucas said in a horse voice. It was the first he’d spoke in three days. “Thank you.”

A sad expression moved through right Stanislaus’ face but only for a moment.

“You may stay the night.” Stanislaus said quickly.

“And in the morning?” Lucas asked desperately.

“We’ll discuss that in the morning.” Grumbled Brutus who was already climbing back into bed. Stanislaus led Lucas to a small cot at the far end of the room. “Sleep now.”

Much to his surprise, sleep came quickly. Awaking came faster. In the morning, Lucas was woken with a frying pan to the head.

“Breakfast!” Shouted Brother Brutus as he thrust the pan into Lucas’s chest. Lucas swallowed his instinctive anger. He didn’t feel like he had the right to argue given the circumstances.

“Eggs are in the hen house.” Offered a much more polite monk, Arno, if Lucas remembered correctly. Lucas stumbled into the sun. He blinked his way towards the hen house. As he stumbled through the court yard he got a chance to examine his surroundings.

The entire space was clearly constructed around the massive birch tree. There were six buildings. He had little trouble identifying most of them. Obviously he had spent the night in the dormitory. A hen house was easy to identify. The chapel looked worn down, but still easily marked. As were the stables.

That left the two largest buildings. Lucas couldn’t figure them out. One was large. Maybe three stories. The other was small. But it looked different from the others. It looked like a hut carved out of a great boulder. Looking at it made Lucas feel old.

“ Breakfast!” Screamed Brutus from one of the dormitory windows.

Lucas hurried into the hen house. Eggs were plentiful so he grabbed twenty. He grew up in a farm, so he found his way around the kitchen space of the dormitory. Arno and Brutus watched the whole time.

As soon as he finished, the other monks came in and unceremoniously grabbed their portion, sat, and ate. There was nothing left for Lucas. He turned and watched the religious order devour the simple meal he cooked them with odd gusto. It occurred to Lucas just then that these men were all old and small. He’d be surprised if any of them were taller than a meter and a half. How old were these guys, he wondered.

They finished their meals in tandem and they all turned their heads towards him.

“He’ll do.” Announced Noah.

“Do?” Lucas asked with what he knew was a stupid expression on his face.

“Time to make a choice” Brother Stanislaus said as he stood up. Lucas felt a strange weight in his chest.

“We do not believe in charity.” The monk said. “If you wish to stay here one more night, you must commit yourself to us.”

Stanislaus wore a stoic expression on his face.

Lucas was nervous, but he agreed. What the hell. He escaped the army. How hard would it be to escape some old monks?

[shaugahaga-blog]

Belgium, October 15 1918

Lance corporal Hitler’s a first rate asshole, Sigurd thought to himself as he looked at his winnings, but at least he’s a terrible card player. Sigurd was squatting next to an overturned wheelbarrow.

Corporal Helmut Sigurd, considered himself the best card player in Belgium. Maybe the best on the western front. He had cleaned out the other corporals. Only Hitler remained on the other side of the wheelbarrow and he was almost out of cigarettes.

“I’m putting you all in.” Sigurd announced. Time to end this. It was late and the regiment was moving in the morning.

Adolf Hitler squinted at his three remaining smokes as if they were difficult to look at. He pushed them forward. Idiot just didn’t know how to fold.

“I see the three cigarettes, and raise you.” Hitler said.

Sigurd snorted “Raise me with what?”

“This.” Hitler pulled out a gold ring and held it in the palm of his hand. Sigurd’s eyes lit up. It was beautifully crafted. The outside of the ring had what looked like Viking characters carved into it. It looked like real gold. Where the hell did he find a gold ring? Sigurd asked him.

“Found it” Hitler answered.

That meant he stole it. The man never missed an opportunity to loot an antique store or old attic. He would say he was searching for lost German artifacts so he could bring them home.

“What is it?” Sigurd asked.

“Andvaranaut!” Hitler said with a shit eating grin as if anyone was supposed to know what that was. After a pause Hitler added “It’s a replica of a Norse myth. It supposed to bring it’s owner great wealth. The legend…

"Fine.” Sigurd cut him off. Any second now, Hitler was going to start waxing on about the great German heritage. That always annoyed Sigurd. The prick wasn’t even German. Sigurd put his stack of cigarettes and chocolates on the underbelly of the wheel barrow. “Let’s see your cards.”

After the game, Sigurd carried his prizes in his gas mask. Forty eight cigarettes, two chocolate bars, a photo of Corporal Gunnar’s girlfriend and one gold ring.

“Don’t wear it.” A grumpy Lance Corporal Hitler called out to him. “It’s bad luck to wear it.”

Sigurd didn’t respond. He had reached his limit on how much of Hitler’s nonsense he could put up with. He crouched along the walls of the trench. The sun had gone down making the it virtually impossible to find his bed sack. After a while he felt his way to the little crater he had dug for himself. He put his mask next two his head. Normally he used it as a pillow but he didn’t want to empty out his prizes until the light returned so he just laid his head on the cold dirt.

Before sleep took him, Sigurd reached in his mask one last time and felt for the ring. He slipped it over his index finger out of spite. Hitler really was an obnoxious little shit. A smile spread across Sigurd’s face in the dark as he recalled the Hitler’s expression when he lost. With that thought he fell asleep.

The first shell hit just a few yards away from Sigurd. The remains of the poor bastard it hit splattered on Sigurd.

“Shit!” Sigurd shouted. At least he thought he shouted.

“Shit!” He said again. A panic began to grow in his belly. He looked up. It was the most intense shelling he had seen since the Somme. Explosions of dirt filled his view. The abandoned farm houses were already completely erased from the horizon. Sigurd saw an entire tree launch into the sky only to be shattered in mid air by another incoming shell.

Sigurd couldn’t hear any of this. His ears were filled with a high pitch ring.

After a quick look around he realized everyone around him was dead. This trench was to hot. He grabbed his gear and ran, crouched, back towards the wheelbarrow the game had been out. That area was a little bit further away from the enemy lines.

Sigurd’s heel slipped on a plank that was slick with blood. He landed on his back. The landing knocked the wind out of his lungs. The cigarettes he won the night before landed in the guts of private Stobaugh. Sigurd closed his eyes and tried to will his hearing back.

He didn’t know how long he laid probe on his back. Five minutes? Thirty? All the while the shelling never slowed down. He still couldn’t hear it but he felt the ground tremor beneath him.

When it finally ceased, he opened one eye. The sky was beginning to show some color. The sun would rise soon. He sat up with caution. Slowly he made his way back toward the wheelbarrow. Crawling on his hands and knees over fallen compatriots. The front of his uniform was covered in dirt and blood. Eventually he made it back to the primary trenches.

Here, Sigurd could stand up without exposing himself. Soldiers were running around. Seeing some men still alive emboldened him. Until he noticed they were all wearing gas masks. As if on cue, a thick, yellow dog spilled over the trench walls. It began to spread out like a liquid. Sigurd hastily put on his mask as the wall of smoke closed in on him.

In moments all he could see was yellow. He took a deep breath. The mask was secure. He felt one remaining cigarette resting on his cheek bone. It was all he had left of his winnings. That and the ring on his finger.

Sigurd walked through the cloud for a while. It was a surreal sort of sensory deprivation. All he could hear was a ringing. All he could see was yellow. It seemed to go on forever.

Sigurd’s foot hit something. A step? He tried to step back and almost fell again. Another step down behind him. Stairs. How the hell did he end up on a staircase?

His instincts told him to go down. In war you wanted to be as low as possible. The stairs kept going. Eventually the yellow cloud around him gave way to darkness. He must be underground. He eventually got to the bottom of the stairs. He was in some kind of cave. He saw a light in the distance. He walked toward it.

The ringing in his ears was fading and he began to hear his footsteps. Thank Christ. Sigurd thought he was never going to hear again.

“Hello?” He said, as much to test his returning hearing as to get a response. He heard falling water. The light became clearer. And old torch lantern hanging on a nail in the wall of the cave. Next to it was a wooden door.

Sigurd paused. He searched for any clues as to what would be on the other side. He saw runes in the base of the lantern. Suddenly, he became conscious of the gold ring on his finger. The writing on the ring wasn’t the same but it was similar.

“At least it’s not French” Sigurd whispered to himself. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

The underground hall he entered was massive. There were torches all along the wall. On the wall all the way to the left was a massive fireplace with a roaring fire inside of it. There was an empty golden chair by the fire and a pile of jewels and precious metals. The rest of the chamber was taken up by a giant pool of crystal clear water. A water fall on the far right end of the room poured into the pool from a hole in the cieling.

Sigurd took a step forward to look in the pool. A massive blue fish, about five feet long was swimming in circles. Sigurd was transfixed. The fish was gaining speed. Faster and faster until it exploded out of the water. Sigurd jumped back.

Instead of seeing a fish flopping around the floor Sigurd was staring at what he could only describe as a little monster.

The creature before him stood about one and a half meters above two enormous, hairy feet. It's nose was bulbous, red and covered in little bumps. Behind it's nose were two large purple eyes surrounded by wrinkled yellowish skin. The strange fellow had a pitch black beard that brushed against the floor. It's head was covered by stringy white hair that failed to cover the two rows of tiny horns along it's scalp.

The two of them stared at eachother for a full minute. Sigurd cleared his throat.

"Are you going to name your price?" The ugly little man asked in a growl of a voice. His teeth were large and yellow. His gums were black. His breath however smelled of juniper and pine.

"What the fuck are you." Sigurd asked. He immediately felt terrible. That was definitely a rude question.

"I am Andvari." The creature announced with evident pride. Apparently Sigurd was supposed to know what that meant because no follow up information was offered. "Name your price!" The being demanded.

Sigurd was afraid to say anything. He hoped he was dreaming, because the alternative is that he simply lost his mind.

"This can't be real" Sigurd mumbled to himself.

"Name you price!" Andvari shouted angrily.

"Price for what?" Sigurd asked exasperated, "What do you want?"

Andvari just pointed. He pointed with his large gnarled left hand at Sigurd's right. The ring, thought Sigurd. Of course. He pulled it off and offered it to Andvari.

"No no no, there must be a price!"

"I don't want anything! Just take it!"

"Everyone wants something" Andvari snarled, "and I certainly don't want to be victim to my own curse! Now tell me what you want!"

"I just want to go home." Sigurd answered. He strangely felt like crying.

Andvari looked him up and down. He smiled a moment then spoke. "Hmph! The soldier wants to go home. Your ancestors were designed made of sterner mettle. Pathetic how weak your people have become."

"Germans?" Sigurd wondered out loud

" Humans." Andvari responded matter of factly. "The man who stole that ring from me thirsted for the glory of battle. He fought a damn dragon for it. Do you not understand that glory and power are the same thing? You could could be magnificent if you just embrace the thirst for war your ancestors had.'

Sigurd had no answer.

"Tell you what, if you slay a dragon, I'd remove the curse on that ring." Andvari offered with a sly grin on his face. "Just one feat of courage, and you will never want for anything again. Wealth will come to you, men will follow you, history will remember you." For a moment Sigurd heard a low rumbling growl from somewhere deep beneath him.

" I just want to go home." Sigurd repeated.

Andvari looked disappointed. "Why? You have been the greatest war, the greatest opportunity for glory in the history of your people and you want to go home. Fine. Give me the ring and it's done.

Sigurd removed the ring from his finger. Then he woke up in a hospital.

"He lives." A woman's voice said. "Welcome back, Corporal Sigurd." The sound of a woman made him cry. The nurse who spoke earlier ran to him. "You're ok. Shh"

"How long have I been here?" Sigurd asked.

"We've been here for a month." Said a more familiar voice. Sigurd looked at the hospital bed to his right. Of all people to be next to, he was laying next to Adolf fucking Hitler.

"Your eyes." Sigurd muttered. Hitler smiled despite the bandages over his eyes.

"Mustard gas." He said, "Don't worry, the doctors tell me I'll recover."

Someone started screaming in another room and the nurse ran out.

"I have good news." Hitler said smugly. Why did it have to be Hitler?

Hitler continued, "I had an amazing dream! I was standing with the gods of old. I was asked what I wanted and I said I wanted the opportunity to show the world what Germans were made of. They promised me I would."

Sigurd noticed his ring was on Hitler's finger now. Good riddance, Sigurd thought.

"What do you think your dream meant?" He asked genuinely curious.

"That we will go back to the front, my friend. We will go back and we are going to win this war! Huzzah!" Hitler was now shouting with an almost feverish enthusiasm.

Sigurd didn't know how to respond. Fortunately he didn't have to. A private entered the room.

"Attention all officers. As of this morning. Germany has signed a surrender treaty with the Allies."

Hitler immediately went apoplectic. "Nonsense! Send me back! We can win!" Hitler's voice got more and more desperate. "You can't surrender. You can't take this destiny from me!" Even with the bandages over his eyes it was clear that Hitler was crying now. Almost made the whole damn war worth it.

Sigurd went home. He went back to work for his father and he married a local girl in his home town. They had three children. He grew old. On his death bed, Sigurd said to his grandchildren, "They all remember the asshole who started a war! No one cares who ended one!" No one knew what he was talking about.

Shortly after that he died. Shortly after that he was forgotten.

[shaugahaga-blog]

I promise my next story will be shorter

[shaugahaga-blog]

A Quiet Visit pt 2

The bridge was filled with a blinding light. The music abruptly stopped. The ship was shaking. Conklin contacted the engine room.

"Karen, i know you're the expert on black holes but shouldn't we be dead already?"

"I'm looking into it captain!" Tiller shouted over the com. The ship's shaking increased. Conklin's eyes adjusted to the light. The creatures had completely surrounded the ship.

"The hell are they doing?" Shapiro asked out loud.

Tiller was back on the com with an answer. "I think they are trying to absorb the singularity."

"Is that even possible?" Shapiro inquired.

"Not for long. Whatever they are doing, Captain, they've bought us time. I think I can make a jump!"

"Fucking do it then!" Conklin screamed.

The next few moments seemed to happened in slow motion. One by one the glowing white bodies of the creatures went dull and floated away. Conklin got her last view of the superstructure. As she heard the long lost sound of a warp jump engaging she stared ahead. She thought of the beauty this ancient device had brought into their lives, the only true wonder of the stars that they had discovered the, epitome of every reason she joined NASA, and she was blowing it up. The last thing she saw before the jump was an explosion. An explosion of spectacular color and intensity. Streaks of violet lightning and jade sparks filled the cavern. It was beautiful. It was stunning, and of course, it was absolutely silent.

A moment later she was staring at Earth. A gloomy dull ball that had lost it vibrant colours decades ago. Home.

"We did it!" Shapiro said with a joy that sounded slightly forced.

"Well done, Tiller." Conklin said over the com. God she was exhausted.

"Thank you, Sir." She chirped back.

"ETA to earth?" Conklin immediately asked. This time Shapiro answered.

"Half hour, Sir."

"Good." Conklin grunted as she stood up.

"I need to go to the bathroom."

This time she didn't play any music.

[shaugahaga-blog]

A Quiet Visit

The first mission into deep space went to shit right quick. Literally. Everyone on board the U.S.S. Visitor had grand notions about the fifteen year mission to the Stars. Some envisioned their life playing out like the old Star Trek shows. Some imagined making first contact and coming home to applause and Nobel prizes. Some just thought it would be a fifteen year vacation. No one counted on getting Space Cholera.

Captain Corinne Conklin mused about the last four years while she sat on the toilet. The surviving crew of the Visitor spent a great deal of time in the bathroom these days. She took her medication as she felt another discharge coming on. The pills were meant to help retain some fluids. Otherwise she might end up shitting herself to death like most of her crew did.

She played opera while she sat there. Nabucco by Verdi. She almost always played some kind of music. Life in the void was unsettlingly quiet. She found the lack of noise was getting to her more and more over the last four years. Ever since the first stop.

The mission’s oh so promising first stop. NASA directed the Visitor to a star labeled Keplar 181C. All indications suggested that sentient life may exist on the second planet orbiting the aging red star.

Of course by “all indications” they were referring to images of light from millions of years ago that were only just now reaching earth.

There was sentient life on that planet. A long time ago. The landing party found evidence of ancient advanced cities. The planet was probably habitable for humans once but now the atmosphere was 95% carbon dioxide, the water was radioactive, and the ozone barely existed.

The ghost of Christmas future.

Not that the surface was lifeless. Microbial life forms were found in the soil, air and even in the toxic sludge that passed for an ocean. The biologists were all very excited. The rest of us were disappointed. Had we really come all this way for fucking germs?

Perhaps this attitude offended the germs because somehow an alien organism was introduced into the principal habitat of the ship. An airborne pathogen which infected and incubated fast. Side affects included fatigue, muscle aches and diarrhea so extreme it would be comical if it weren’t so lethal. After a couple of days Doctor Little was able to create a treatment that made the disease chronic. By then two thirds of the men and women on the Visitor had died very undignified deaths.

After the funeral service Captain Conklin got a report from the engine room that the hadron engine was mysteriously not working. The ship was stranded over a dead world. Fucking perfect.

No one could figure out why the technology to transport a man-made wormhole in space time just stopped working. Eventually one of the engineers, Karen Tiller, suggested that the radiation particular to this star system might be interfering with the ability to jump back home.

Conklin wasn’t an engineer but she knew the theory sounded like nonsense. But seeing as no one else had any ideas she set a course away from Keplar 181C. That was four years ago.

Four quiet years.

The ship recently passed out of the star’s gravity belt but the engine still didn’t work. It was as if the very physics it operates on didn’t exist out here. Now the crew was afflicted by two conditions. The germ affectionately called the pooponic plague and a severe case of cabin fever. Everyone was going a little nuts. Conklin blamed the quiet. The ship was designed to be a home for a seventy five person compliment. There were only twenty three people left alive. For the first time in the history of space exploration space was in abundance. Every time one walked into a large empty hallway they would inevitably think of all the sounds of people missing. Conklin turned up the volume on Nabucco.

She finished up and return to her desk to read the reports from department heads. Christ she would kill for one book on the ship that she hadn’t read at least twice already. These reports hadn’t said anything new in four years.

The opera was almost over. Corrinne stopped reading for a moment to select the next piece of music to play. She didn’t want to sit in a quiet room any longer than she had too. But as she was looking through her jazz catalogue and the last notes of Nabucco faded out, she noticed the room wasn’t completely silent.

She could hear the faintest sound. It sounded like distant music being played from just over a horizon. She couldn’t make out the tune but it still filled her with a warmth and joy. It was almost supernatural. She came to the conclusion that she finally cracked up.

“Captain.” Squaked a voice over the ship’s intercom. It was the voice of Benny Shapiro, her first officer. Her third first officer to be exact. The first, Sarah, on died like everyone else in a puddle of her own shit. The second, Mike, killed himself. Not that he wasn’t also in a puddle of his own shit. That was the ultimate fate for everyone onboard the Visitor.

“What is it, Benny?” Conklin asked through her com.

“Sir, we are getting reports all over the ship of people hearing…”

“Music?”

“Yes sir!”

Corinne allowed herself to feel the warmth and joy again.

“Benny, want to meet all senior officers in my office in thirty minutes. If anyone needs to use the restroom, do it now.”

“Aye, sir.”

The senior officers all gathered. Everyone was wearing full uniforms for the first time in years. The music had grown louder. If louder was the right word. Perhaps clearer was better. It was lost like the sound traveled on feelings rather than vibrations. That thought raised Conklin’s first question.

“Where is it coming from and how are we hearing it?”

The first to try and answer the question was Karen Tiller, acting Chief Engineer.

“We can’t explain yet how we hear it but I think we can trace it to it’s source. My guys have done some work and already we think it may be near by.”

“How near is near?” Conklin inquired. Conklin pitied Tiller. She was the only person on the ship under more pressure than her. If anyone was getting the ship back home it would be her, but after four years she still couldn’t explain why the engines weren’t working.

“Fifty maybe sixty hours away at full speed.” She returned.

“Doctor, is there any chance this is an late onset symptom of the plague?” Shapiro asked, ever cautious.

“Well I can’t summarily rule it out but I wouldn’t say it’s plausible.” Dr. Little answered. Perhaps Conklin was imagining it but beneath Little’s typical matter of fact answer there seemed to be an energy that hadn’t been there since Keplar 181C.

“Captain I recommend we wait and study this before moving any closer.” Shapiro offered.

“I understand that, Benny, but this is the second time my Chief Engineer has told me she doesn’t understand how something is happening. There may be connection between this music and our in active engine.”

“Sir, with due respect, that is pretty thin.” Responded Shapiro.

“I know it’s a thin lead, goddamn it but it’s our first and only lead in four years! We are going to investigate it. Instruct the helm to coordinate with Karen and get us to the source of this music at full speed. Dismissed.”

They had gotten really good at keeping their meetings brief since the plague broke out.

After two days of travel at breakneck speed. The music had grown clearer. It seemed to fill Conklin’s head. It was the most beautiful music she’d ever heard. Ever felt. It was indescribable. Somehow both impossibly complex and elementally simple. Nothing mankind had ever composed came close.

The crew walked the halls with smiles again. She felt her heart swell with serene joy. Hope had returned to the Visitor. When the arrived at the origen point, Conklin was on the bridge. She didn’t want to miss a moment.

A massive structure grew in front of them. Definitely artificially created. It wasn’t a ship. There didn’t seem to be any pressurised cabin. It rather looked like a giant metal sponge. Full of massive caverns weaving in and out of the superstructure.

“My god!” Shapiro whispered to himself.

Conklin switched on her com to the engine room.

“What can you tell me, Karen?”

Tiller was prepared.

“This is definitely the source of the music, captain. The structure is approximately 700 kilometres long 450 kilometres wide and another 450 deep. And I believe there is movement inside the caves.”

“Fly us into one of the caves.” Conklin said with no hesitation.

“Captain…” Shapiro began.

“Just do it, Ben.” Conklin rolled her eyes. Shapiro could really be nag sometimes.

The ship maneuvered itself into the mouth of the caves. At first it was pitch black. Conklin ordered the search lights on the hill to be ignited. At first the piercing beams didn’t reveal anything but a winding metal cave.

Then, as the ship was rounding a corner, something new came into view. It looked like a giant glowing white dandelion. It was floating ahead of the ship.

“Follow that, what ever it is” Conklin commanded.

The ship’s persuit took the Visitor into a massive chamber the size of a skyscraper. The chamber was lousy with these floating space flowers. They seemed to keep to the sides of the chamber. Floating along walls that had thousands of tiny cones protruding from them. As the flowers passed these cones, they would lite up and produce a sound that seems to penetrate right into the soul.

“It’s an instrument.” Conklin gasped. There were no words for the feeling inside of her. This was what they came out here for. This was the greatest discovery in human history. The music ignited a euphoria inside of her. Even the skeptical Shapiro was grinning ear to ear at the sight.

“Ben, I need you to take closer look.”

Shapiro’s smile vanished. He new that a close look meant a space walk. The ship’s EVA suits were designed with waste extraction capabilities. In the past four years those capabilities had been taxed beyond anything NASA had anticipated. No one wanted to go anywhere near those suits.

But Commander Shapiro, being a good officer, led the mission. He took Tiller and Dr. Little with him. After they got past the smell of their EVAs the excitement of the mission returned. Dr. Little observed the space flowers as she was the closest thing to a biologist on board. The biology department was the first to get the plague and the first to die. Tiller was determined how the instrument worked. Conklin waited with baited breath on the bridge. After a few hours the away team retuned. After they showered they pent all night analyzing the findings. At 0800 Conklin called another officer meeting.

“They are definitely life forms,” Dr. Little informed the room, “ but besides the ability to operate this instrument nothing suggests sentience.”

“How could a nonsentient race build this?” Conklin asked.

“Captain, it’s not clear they did build it. They don’t have the physiology required to build something like this. We think they are operating on instinct.” Little answered. As of now there was no trace of her patented stoicism. She was just as enthusiastic as the rest of the crew.

Shapiro chimed in. “Captain the material and style of the structure is consistent with the ruins we found on Keplar 181C. Right now our best assumption is this structure was built by the Keplar race but designed to be operated by the silicone based life forms outside.”

“How does it work.” Conklin asked. She was having trouble paying attention. The music outside had shifted into a faster tempo. She felt it difficult not to be overwhelmed with forgotten emotions of childhood joy and wonder. She clearly felt herself being pushed on swing by her older sister. She fell in love for the first time again. And again. For a moment she could feel her husband’s arms around her.

“The protruding cones on the surface seem to generate a small electrical charge that attracts the creatures.” Tiller answered. “The creatures’ sillica allow them to contact several hundred cones at once. When they contact one of the cones they close the circuit and create a microsingularity, just like our engine. Except our engine creates one at a time. This instrument is constantly producing millions of folds in time in space. The echoes of these folds are what create the sensation of sound.”

“Incredible.” Shapiro responded smiling. He was smiling all the time now. The whole crew was. Except, Conklin noticed, Tiller. She normally had a gloomy countenance but today, perhaps because everyone around her was smiling, it seemed more serious.

“Tiller, is this instrument keeping us from leaving?”

“I believe it is, Captain.”

Conklin considered this. “So we need to turn it off somehow.”

Tiller shook her head, “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Sir. This device has been operating for hundreds of thousands of years. It was meant to last forever. The technology is astoundingly resillient. There is no off switch. Even if there was, the device gives off a ripple in time and space just by existing.”

The happy faces were starting to melt.

“ How large an area does this affect?” Shapiro asked. His natural pessimistic tone of voice had returned.

“It’s impossible to say. The ripple s expanding at the speed of light but conservatively we are talking about a twenty two light year radius.”

“Holy shit!” Dr. Little erupted.

Conklin did some quick math and came to the same conclusion that she new the rest of her officers had reached. This affect would reach earth soon. All of humanity would be trapped in the Solar system on a planet that could no longer support them.

“Thank you. You’re all dismissed.”

Once again Captain Conklin of the U.S.S. Visitor considered the fate of her ship and crew while sitting on the toilet. The music reflected her thoughts. A deep somber dirge of a tune eminated from the walls of the instrument all around them. Perhaps these strange creatures were slightly telepathic she mused. The worn down Captain allowed the depressing melody to transport her even more than she let the more joyous music do. She felt herself standing in earth level gravity. She felt the rain that fell at her sister’s funeral. She smelled the takeout food she was eating when her husband asked for a divorce. She felt the despair of having her childhood bicycle stolen. She glimpsed he future. Vague feelings of loved one’s dying, or leaving. Career disappointments, heartbreaks and injuries both physical and emotional. But more than anything else she saw what she was going to do next.

Conklin called Tiller to her office. As she sat down at her desk she closed her eyes and listened to the music. It was still sad but she wanted to absorb every note.

“Sir, would you like me to come back later?” Tiller’s voice penetrated into Conklin’s ears.

“Tiller.” Conklin said. She realised she had been crying and wiped her face. Tiller pretended not to notice. “Tiller, I need options. How do we stop this ripple affect? Can we negate it? Can we redirect it?”

Tiller looked at her feet for moment before answering. “Respectfully, sir, I think you know the answer to all your questions is that we can not.”

For a full minute neither said a word. For the first time, Captain Conklin wished it was quiet again. Only briefly, the music swelled and Conklin remembered the strength that had pushed her throughout her career.

“Tiller, this ship was not equipped with weapons, but what we do have is a brilliant engineer, and the most powerful engine ever built.”

“Thank you, s…”

“Shut up, Tiller. For the past four years you have been unable to safely create a microsingularity. Would you be able to make a macro singularity? Safety is not a priority.”

“You want me to create a black hole?”

“I’m asking if you can.”

“Yes, sir, but…”

“You’re dismissed, Karen.”

Captain Conklin spent the next two hours talking to all of her senior officers. Everyone understood. The Visitor was going to destroy itself and take out the superstructure with it. It didn’t take long to prepare. The music being played by the wonderful musicians outside was stirring and rousing. Conklin felt guilty but there was no way to save the strange entities that had performed for them. She hoped there were more of their kind somewhere.

“We are already, Captain.” Shapiro said softly.

“Patch me through the to the whole ship.” She ordered.

“You’re on” He answered.

“This is the captain speaking,” Conklin began. She paused. What the hell was there to say? “We’ve been through a lot together. So much…” She trailed off. Just then the music reached it’s peak volume. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. It was a song of farewell. It was a song of pride. It was song of love and duty. It was the song of their lives. All their lives, weaved together in a magnificent tapestry.

“I invite you all to listen to one last song with me.” She finished simply. The music said everything that needed to be said. Conklin looked at the wonderful life forms and thought of the first one they saw leading them into this miraculous orchestra. Damn things must be telepathic she thought to herself.

The crew of the Visitor listened to the melody with a serenity none of them had ever known. This was their purpose. This moment was what they left their homes to travel millions of miles for. They were scientists, explorers, and dreamers and they had finally found their destiny. The song ended. No one bothered to hide their tears.

“Tiller, engage.” Conklin said calmly

For the first time in four years the engines hummed with life. Everyone was at their station. Making sure the fuel engaged correctly. Making sure the bridge got accurate readings till the very end, making sure the ship didn’t explode or shake apart prematurely. They were astronauts again.

Could be worse, thought Conklin. This was always a voyage of the damned. At least this end won’t be meaningless.

Tiller’s voice came on over the com. “Singularity projection in 5…4…3…2…”

Cont.

[shaugahaga-blog]

A New World View

A funny thing happened on the way to the airport a few weeks ago. It was Christmas day. I usually fly on Christmas day. It's cheaper, much less crowded, and most years doesn't involve having my life turned inside out.

I was taking the subway to Kennedy airport. I stepped off the F line to transfer to the E. The overhead display said the E train was 7 minutes away. I was making good time so I shuffled over to the end of the platform hoping to avoid a crowded subway car. That's when she cornered me.

She was a slightly heavy and unremarkable looking woman in her upper 40s. She wore black slacks, a practical red coat, and a grey scarf.

"Hello, stranger." She said as she approached. It was an ironically odd thing to say to an actual stranger. I hope she's not crazy, I thought to myself.

"Um, hi." I responded curtly. I pretended to be engrossed in my phone. Maybe if I ignore her she'll bother someone else.

She didn't even slow down. I could hear her heals clicking toward me as intensified my focus on my phone. She gently put her hand on my forearm. I looked up at her despite myself. Damn it! I've made eye contact. Rookie mistake.

"Help me out. This is my first time doing this." She pleaded.

Doing what? Was she hitting on me? My stomach sank. I felt an uncomfortable dread that I may have to shoot down this unusually forward woman. Although I simultaneously felt flattered. It had been a long time since someone made a pass at me. Even a come on from a weirdo at the Roosevelt Avenue subway stop was a refreshing boost to my self esteem.

"I'm here to recruit you." She added.

My self esteem plummeted back to the floor where it belonged. I remember being surprisingly disappointed. Christ I must be lonely.

My bruised ego shifted back to suspicious caution. This was getting weird. I needed to be shrewd. I chose my next words very carefully.

"Recruit me for what?"

Nice.

"I'm so glad you asked!" She said cheerfully.

Damn. I played right into her hands.

"I represent a global community dedicated to convincing the world that the Earth is round."

Where the fuck was my train?

"That's...nice."

"Now, I know you might be skeptical," she continued, "but the truth is the Earth is a disc shaped object that is hurling upwards through space."

For reasons I still don't understand I responded. "Sounds like you're doing a great job without my help. Why recruit me."

"Because you're about to board a plane that's going to fly over the Pacific ocean, correct?"

That was spooky. How did she know I was going to Japan? I froze. She continued.

"The problem is that the Pacific ocean actually ends at the edge of the world."

I was absolutely speechless. What the hell was going on. At that moment my train pulled up. Thank god! The train doors slid open and a crowd of passengers vomited forth. I shoves my way through, desperate to get away from this bizarre encounter.

I found a seat next to another man with a suitcase. The odd woman stared at me through the window of the train. The doors closed and I felt the car start to move. As the platform disappeared behind me I closed my eyes and began to relax. The gentleman next to me looked at my suitcase.

"JFK, huh?"

I nodded without opening my eyes.

"Where you headed?"

"Japan"

"No way! You must be the new guy!"

My eyes popped open. He grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously.

"My name is Harry Conrad, I've been in the round earth conspiracy for 36 years." He added enthusiastically.

"New guy?" I asked

"Sure. Everyone else on the flight is already in on the joke."

"Just how big is this conspiracy?"

"Not sure exactly. I think about half the population."

"So one half of the population has been trickier g the other half for thousands of years?"

"Yup!" Harry answered with a toothy grin.

"Why?!"

"You know, I'm not sure." Harry pondered for a moment. "I guess it's just funny."

I had enough. Somebody was pranking me. I stood up and moved to the next car. I made sure not to make eye contact with anyone.

I arrived at JFK without further incident. Checked my bag, printed my boarding pass, went through security. Then I stepped up to my terminal. I stared at all the folks waiting for their flight.

They can't possibly all be in on some global conspiracy. That would just be nuts.

I boarded the plane. Found my seat quickly. The man sitting in the window seat next to me looked strangely familiar. As the cabin door sealed all the flight attendants ripped off their faces revealing lizard heads underneath.

"Holy shit!" I yelled.

"What's the matter, boy. Ain't you never seen no lizard people before?" Said the man next to me whom I now clearly recognised as Elvis Presley.

I started hyperventilating. My chest felt like it was shrinking. The plane was taking off. My head was spinning. Elvis was doing his best to console me. Eventually a lizard hand put a rag over my mouth and everything went dark.

I woke up under the stars next to an American flag. I sat up. I vomited. I closed my eyes and counted to 60. When I opened them I recognized where I was. Then I vomited again.

I was sitting in grey dirt that stretched out to an horizon of starry night. And next to me and the American flag was the lunar lander. I was on the fucking moon. Harry and Elvis were standing over me. None of us were wearing astronaut suits. The air seemed perfectly breathable.

"You feeling better, son?" Harry asked with what sounded like genuine concern. I didn't reply. I stood up.

"Here ya go, man. Take swig of this here moon juice." Elvis said as he handed me a flask. I took a big pull, then turned around. That's when I saw it. The earth. The real earth.

A massive disc hurling upwards through space. The north pole was right in the middle. The oceans encircled all the land masses and continuously poured off the edges. Beneathe the earth was a massive tortoise. Beneathe the tortoise was Goliath whale. And supporting all of that was a collosal mosquito.

"Oh, by the way, merry Christmas!" Said Harry. "And welcome to the round Earth conspiracy. Life is going to get pretty sweet for you now!"

"Unfortunately our friend here never signed the agreement."

I turned back around and saw the woman who tried to recruit me that morning.

"W...wait..." I stuttered. "What does that mean?"

"Means you ain't nothing but a liability, man" growled Elvis as he yanked his moon juice out of my hand.

"I'll sign it. I'll sign it right now."

"It's too late" Harry said sadly.

I looked at the woman who ruined my day. "So what now?" She just turned around and walked away. So did Harry. So did Elvis

So that is the story of how I got stranded on the moon. Fortunately there was a pen and some paper in the lunar lander. So now I'm writing messages and throwing them back to earth as paper airplanes. Hopefully one of these messages gets through to someone. Maybe, just maybe, the truth will find a way.

Also I need ride.

[shaugahaga-blog]

2017

My final act of this year was starting a Tumblr account