#best-scifi-story

[they-loved-in-2075]

Science fiction. The last tribe (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1402816891-science-fiction-the-last-tribe?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Javid117&wp_originator=a7sChkoOLFDR%2Frt%2Fc4WJ5Z62fhTv5oJHlj%2FSkIrDtWAuctTxqpXUj7EpJRlx%2F%2Fc7WDvf%2Fula7wAGhFbdk2Vx4jwsm%2FIRrMpKyXQDY%2BBKSOdlRDo49rL87skz08uouWbM This short scifi story is about how a native of a planet saves the last surviving alien female from dying, and then all his life lives secretly with her. But how does he save her? Because her anatomy is different. And how does he live with her when everyone on her planet wants to see both of them dead? How? The answer is simple and explained in a beautifully told science fiction story titled: The last tribe. Please read it and it shall reveal to you the secret that will baffle you!

[tea-earl-grey]

you know it might be unpopular but i kind of disagree with the fandom opinion that Voyager mishandled the Borg. tng's portrayal of the Borg as a mass unknowable and undefeatable entity – a Collective that assimilates by force and eliminates individuality as a natural and perfect opposition to the Federation that expands through peace and is endlessly multicultural (at least allegedly) – is very good. there's a reason that Best of Both Worlds is still regarded as one of the best tng episodes. but the thing about villains that function through fear and the unknowability is that every time you meet them they become less scary and less interesting. (see what happened with the Weeping Angels in Doctor Who as an example.)

if the shows continued with the same portrayal of the Borg then it would have gotten very old very very quickly with a limited number of possible stories. but then if Star Trek ignored the Borg entirely after their few tng episodes it would have felt unrealistic – there's this all powerful alien race that's invaded half the galaxy and can easily overpower the Federation and we're just... never gonna bring them up again? that's not really gonna fly.

i actually think that Voyager's approach to the Borg is refreshing. we're not going to focus on them as the terrifying unknown entity, we're going to focus on their personal effects mostly through Seven. i don't think Voyager ever really treated the Borg as the generic villain because the Borg were presented on an interpersonal level and opened up the box for more stories instead of just constantly rehashing Q Who and Best of Both Worlds. Voyager followed up on tng's question (introduced in I, Borg) of "what if a Borg was separated from the Collective?" and continued to ask things like: "is it ethical to forcibly remove someone from the Collective against their will?" "how is a collective of humans better than the Collective of Borg?" "can a person ever fully lose their humanity?" "if humanity is lost then can it ever be regained?" "can an individual be responsible for deaths dealt by a collective group?" "if they are responsible then how do they live with themselves? how do they atone for atrocities they never chose to commit?" "is prejudice against the Borg just a reflection of our fear of loss of control and humanity?" "what even is humanity?"

i'm not saying voyager's (and other post tng shows) portrayal of the Borg was great in every way. it definitely wasn't. (i'm still like. mildly baffled by the idea of the Borg Queen and how she's written. there are definitely episodes that veer too much into the action flick genre. and even as much as i love Seven there's definitely an oversaturation of her episodes compared to the rest of the cast in later seasons.) but idk i've heard a lot of people say that Voyager ruined the Borg but from my perspective they just took a character based approach to exploring them rather than a science fiction based approach. some people might prefer one to the other but i think a lot of people missed that Voyager was never trying to replicate the Borg we see in early tng. yes they make them a bit toothless in comparison but that's because we're exploring them through the lens of personhood. it's a feature not a bug imo.

[aimasup]

sure i COULD ramble about how ai is one of the multiple things that check all the marks of humanity's seven deadly sins but would that be extreme

^^^ possibly insufficiently educated

[w1f1n1ghtm4r3]

sticks bloomfes rui and anni4 nene into one of my aus

[kyriefae]

Here's my poll for Classic Whovians! 😉

I hope to have included enough variety in relevant choices from among the 26 total seasons of content through the 11 (+other) slots available that y'all feel seen even if I didn't include your personal fave.

Couldn't justify any 6th Doctor stories even if I enjoyed Colin individually. Couldn't jam up the listing too heavily with 4th Doctor stuff either even if several of his best are arguable contenders.

Anyway, have fun. Play nice. Eat a jelly baby if you feel a bit cranky. 😘 We all love the same alien.

[laniidae-passerine]

I’m finding that the laziest moments of Doctor Who’s writing are the ‘retroactive twists’ - when the show runner reveals something happened way back over there, in the past, before they were even running the show. And we swear it happened, way over there, far back, and you didn’t see it because of reasons but it’s definitely been happening! And it totally makes sense and I absolutely didn’t just pull it out my ass to justify my paper thin plotline! All this kind of writing does is make me miss self contained season length plots. We’ve had people complaining that Moffat was guilty of the “this thing is big and scary and it’s going to happen, oh god it’s showing up, we’re going to discover what it truly is….. next season!!!!!!” plotline (and yes. he was. twelve is my fav doctor but yeah Moffat loved a mysterious horse and a big stick) but now suddenly when RTD gets out his own mysterious horse and a big stick, it’s got to be genius! everything is eventually going to make sense! and we’re absolutely not being had by a man who used to be able to write this show and is now a hack!

[enthusiastic-nimrod]

Some old characters I felt like experimenting with! Originally they were intended to be put into a more classic historical/fantasy setting (something I consider a bit of a comfort zone, but I was having trouble figuring out their styles and was encouraged to try putting them into scifi.

Now I love the idea of them being scifi characters. and have a lot of fun concepts for them existing in a sort of retro futurism world, but I am Not Great at scifi fashion so I'm back to square one!

[fruitsofhell]

       Ok but like with the tags on that last RB: It genuinely is really funny when people, AND EVEN SQUARE NOW, characterize Sephiroth as this sexy mind-fucking villain guy. I think it’s a very interesting moment that started with fans reacting to the amount of emotional power he had over Cloud as a villain, and combined with him just being hot, starting to sexualize that in their heads. And then Squenix taking note and upping the camp in Remake, because they upped EVERYTHING in Remake.        But Like,,, the truth is that Sephiroth as a person had no sexual agency at all. He was a husk of a man before he went crazy, and even though Shinra threw his image around and he was seen as a celebrity, that never reached him. You can tell just in how he acted at Nibelhiem - he was just business and formality because he knew nothing else in his life but his job. Even once he lost it and fell into a reactor and became an eldritch god, he never uses sex appeal or romance to manipulate anyone in the party. He’s fucking scary and has an insanely intimidating presence in the game, but it’s just purely vengeful sadism. And then once you do face him head on, the guy has nothing to say to you except silence, as he morphs into fucked up god abominations and does 6 minute long summon animations.        I do think its really interesting to think about how Sephiroth’s sex appeal works, as an iconic and impactful video game villain, and as a person within the world who was paraded around as a perfect military mascot - but like he isn’t a sexy person, he was just depressed and then he was ESTUANS INTERIS IRA VEHEMENTI. I especially like thinking about the idea that Cloud may have had like a celebrity crush on him, and the extra layer of annoying that adds to Sephiroth tormenting him, but I don’t like the idea of Sephiroth specifically trying to manipulate him with his sex appeal. Like FFS Sephiroth was a 20-something y/o when he met Cloud as a 16 y/o.        I think in Remake the idea is that this isn’t just Sephiroth who fell into the lifestream and ate eternal knowledge, but Sephiroth who then fell into some time-multiverse BS so now he acts like this? But it’s still annoying, I wish if Squenix wanted to exploit- I MEAN TALK ABOUT Sephiroth’s sex appeal they could’ve done it in a less corny way. I also think discussion of this game would be more fun if Sephiroth wasn’t just called a sexyman, and people stopped fucking shipping his grown ass with someone he knew when they were an impressionable kid.

[novawitchy]

Past Lives

This is a story(ish?) Based off of a dream I had a year ago. Im not the greatest writer but I really wanted to post this! Please go check out my post on @witchyclispe for the drawing and a small speedpaint!

You've heard of loves that are meant to be,but maybe in another universe. "I wish we had more time" "i will find you in the next life"

Atticus Selene, a man in the space program, happily married the love of his life Dottie, a sweet and gentle woman. . He adored her to pieces, having been in love with her since they met in college. She stood on a bench on the college campus, painting on a canvas. Curiously he stopped to talk with her. "Seems a bit high up there?" She looked at him with the most beautiful set of eyes he had ever seen. A bright smile captured on her face, her nose scrunched and smile lines clear upon her cheeks. "Nope! This is the perfect picture. Wanna see?"

And boy was he hooked on her. He found her doing that every day. Always coming to see her painting, being greeted by those glowing eyes and full faced smile.

The rest was history. They dated for 5 years, bought a home together, then eventually got married. Now they're hoping to grow their family, fill the empty corners of their home with kids of their own. The man had always loved space, similar to his wife. When he became an astronaut for NASA they were so ecstatic. He travelled the stars on many mission's, helping earths space programs with his discoveries, going farther and farther than any human had before.

Or so he believed.

This mission would be his last, he was sent to go to the outer edges of our solar system. Fly around pluto, and come back. Well a bit of a snag on the way turning around, he got caught in a tear in the reality of space, being ripped from his ship and inside the tear.

He woke up in an empty space, still in his flight suit. There was a wall in front of him, it glowed many different colors almost looking like a field of different cotton candy clouds. A enormous being, completely void of colors came out from inside the colors. Suddenly they only glowed a soft blue, the beings long hair draping over its face and outside the clouds, floating around the human.

"Am… I dead?. " Atticus asked, the being shook its head no. "Where am I?"

What sounded like a thousand different voices spoke all at once from the being "The light between infinity, Atticus"

The being explained themself to be a keeper, or guard of reality, not just one, but all reality. "Please, send me back home. I need to get back to my wife." The man spoke begging the being.

"I am only the keeper, I know not which universe you truly reside in. But, i can send you to the reality of your choosing. You must decide for yourself, which is your true home."

The man always kept a picture of his wife with him, back when they were young and their love had first been sewn into the fabric of time. "My true home is with her" he held the picture of his wife in his hands, showing it to the being. A tendril of hair brought the picture to their face. "My… I see. I will open the realities in which she resides." The being sounded quite sad, a hint of loneliness behind it all.

Tears appeared all around the floating astronaut. He peered into each one.

"I warn you, you might not like what you find in these worlds. Each reality you choose that is not yours will leave a mark on your soul i fear"

"As long as I'm with her, I don't care."

The rest of the story is his travels throughout these different universes. He feels her death in each and every one. Whether she is murdered, dies of disease, an accident, or even old age. He experiences it all. Never changing.

Still he hopes to see his love, those beautiful eyes and kind smile. He misses her. Soon minutes turn to days, days to years and years to centuries. Until the being gives him one final door. Excitedly he thinks this will be his universe at last.

He rips through the universe back to earth. Its his universe, though when he returned to his home, it had been that long. Centuries, his love long passed. It turns out her art had become huge in this future of his home. He goes to the city they lived in, its been turned into a memorial of her. Greeted by a wonderful mural of her, those same glowing eyes, that same perfect full faced smile.

It turns out with the rest of her life, she indeed filled the silent corners of their home. She opened an orphanage and school, teaching children art, science, space. She was a legend, a force for goodness and gentleness he always knew she was. At this time he heads to an exhibit with her works, and the final painting she had ever created in her life, was of him on the last day they spent together. It was a picture she had taken of him, he was smiling in his flight suit, wearing a pair of cloud shaped sunglasses , the clouds behind him all different colors and glowing bright in the picture.

He fell to his knees breaking down in tears, the tears seemed to float around him, as his body slowly started to turn void of color, the years catching up in seconds, he vanished

Back in the light between infinity. He woke up to look at himself, he was much larger, his hair long. No colors he could see. He was the keeper, doomed to be here for all infinity.

Finally the doorway to the clouds was open to him, as if it was a final tear for him to look through. He walked along the clouds for what seemed like ages, until he saw a familiar sight. A woman, standing, more like floating above the ground, painting clouds along the tear of the universe.

He ran and ran as fast as he could, soon his form started changing back, smaller, his colors came back, his hair the same length as before until he finally yelled "Dottie!" Jumping into the air to hold her.

She smiled, the one he had truly been looking for this entire time. "I told you my light, you will always find me in another life."

It ends with them turning into the light that glows in this tear, and slowly zooms out to the door, actually being a tear that completely heals itself. Healing the wound in reality.

[labyrinths-library]

Book 24 of 2024

The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy (2023) Edited by RF Kuang

★★★

Find the book here.

Pages: 268

Genre: Short Story

Review:

In my MFA program the faculty often recommended picking up any of these types of collections so you can see what kind of stories publishers are buying, so I considered my read of this as research. The stories were interesting and weird. Some were political and thought-provoking pieces. The wide berth of things made it hard for me to really pinpoint what was *good* though.

[they-loved-in-2075]

Science fiction. The sky less world (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1399273475-science-fiction-the-sky-less-world?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Javid117&wp_originator=jznwlLw8e3UbRZx8vSpWm6eOfwgv1xy3uTVbNygoHOdEr7LzQRB3h3X6lSJP6PChlUG6XNVDGERE83E3CwYxfoLCuSZpkftj5rsOiT7QTWeXhVNL9%2F9ctjQFmASXwpTo This short scifi story is about a civilisation where a person named : Siopi the Silent, steals time from other people and trades it with the elite members of this civilisation. However, one day he happened to cross someone in the market and he began draining his moments of time, after sometime, this person realised something was wrong; and he wanted to prevent his moments of time from draining into the infinite river of time controlled by Siopi the Silent. To know whether he was able to claim his memories and his time from Siopi the Silent, read this short and highly interesting scifi story.

[blam-marie]

Four Liars (in space)

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Read all currently published chapters (38 of them so far!) here on tapas :)

If I go to sleep right now, I’ll have four hours of rest before I need to be up.

The ventilation was making that noise again. A sort of metallic VWOOMP VWOOMP VWOOMP reminiscent of one of these big helicopters that had ferried Chuck around in basic training. He remembered being sick in one of those helicopters. Good times.

Nearby, Johnson was snoring loudly. Chuck could hear him straight through his thirty-decibel noise reduction custom earplugs, as if the other man was laying right next to him and not two whole bunks away. But at least Johnson’s snoring was constant, and somewhat on a rhythm. On a good night, Chuck could almost manage to ignore it. He just had to pretend hard enough that it was just… the soothing sound of waves on the sea or something. If the sea sounded a little bit like a rusted lawnmower.

Which, you know, maybe it did! It wasn’t like Chuck had ever seen the sea in person. Any sea. Did different seas sound differently? He should ask Bee. She would probably know. Or he could even go and seek out the answer in person one day. Maybe. It was something to consider for the bucket list.

Anyway, Johnson’s snoring was fine. It was fine! A little annoying, maybe, but Chuck could handle it.

Bouchard, on the other hand, kept taking deep, irregular whistling breaths. He would stop breathing for a few seconds, then release all of his air with a short, disgusting, wet nose-cough sound that drove Chuck straight up the wall. Bouchard had the bunk right on top of his, and sometimes, he fantasized about climbing up there and smothering him with his own military-standard crappy pillow. With the noises he made at night, no one would suspect Chuck, right? They might think that Bouchard had just finally given up the ghost on his own. Well, one could hope.

Although a suspicious, night-time death in the dormitories would create a lot of paperwork and presumably Chuck would be the one who would have to deal with it, so that might not be such a good idea after all.

In the middle of the room, Evans tossed and turned, as usual. The three rows of bunk beds were barely an arm length apart, and the man was so tall that he’d once managed to actually spin 90 degrees and kick Chuck in his sleep. The only silver lining of that incident was that it had given Chuck a good reason to show up to work sleep deprived the following morning. Everyone figured that Evans’ baby skin was probably sensitive to something in the fabric of the sheets and that’s why he wiggled around so much, but command was yet to do anything about it. Past evidence suggested that they probably never would. It wasn’t like comfort was of any great importance here.

Chuck checked his watch then clenched his eyes shut in despair. The tiny glow in the dark screen indicated that it was some time past one AM, which meant that if he got to sleep right then he might still get four hours of sleep before the morning shift. Then the day crowd would rotate into the room and someone else would be using his assigned bunk for the next eight hours, followed by someone else until it was his turn again.

Maybe he should just stop thinking so hard about sleep — maybe if he thought about literally anything else, sleep would just magically come, like it seemed to do for other people. His best friend, Bee, kept telling him that she just laid down at night and closed her eyes and sleep came within five minutes for her. In his opinion, she was probably lying. There was no way that sleep just ‘came’ within five minutes. There must have been a trick. She said she just stopped thinking. Who just stops thinking? Thinking was a constant background process in the machine that he called his brain and sure, there were tricks to make that process take less energy or attention but there wasn’t a way to stop it. So either Bee was trying to describe something else (likely), or she really was programmed differently than he was (also likely). Or she just straight-up temporarily died every night (not very likely, although she would make one terrifying vampire).

��Chuck flipped his pillow to the cold side and started thinking about filling forms. That was a safe and boring topic, right? Boring was good, boring meant that his brain might slow down.

Forty excruciating minutes later, Chuck checked his watch again and almost screamed. He was still not sleeping, and now he’d reminded himself of how annoyed he was that the ventilation filters were listed on the equipment request form and not the maintenance order, even though changing them was part of the maintenance team’s duties. Which meant that every time they needed new filters they would have to ask him to edit the equipment forms for them, and then the equipment supervisor would be pissed that Chuck had messed with his files. Which Chuck wouldn’t have to do if that asshole just picked up his goddamn comm every once in a while and updated his files himself!

 Blasted ventilation. Blasted maintenance team. Blasted god damned bunker and blasted god damned cold war.

Chuck flipped his pillow again and turned to face the wall, pulling his scratchy woollen blanket up to his face. He very sternly told himself to not think about the war, because that was a sure way to stay awake for the rest of the night and he did not need that. Besides, he wasn’t worried about the war. He wasn’t!

Worrying about the war was a responsibility for other people. For all the good that did, since the cold war wasn’t even about Castula. Their neighbour, The Free Radiant Empire of Elunar (F.R.E.E.), had somehow managed to piss off New Vakalos, and now the two giant powers were threatening each other with world-destroying weapons. What did that have to do with Castula? Chuck didn’t know, but somehow by virtue of being allied with FREE, they were now also in danger of dying via rocket to the face. It was kind of unfair. Still, not exactly a problem that he, specifically, could do anything about. And he didn’t like worrying about stuff that he had no impact on.

His problems were more in the range of filling badly designed forms about ventilation filters. He had suggested a change to the forms, but everything took months to be processed around here, and also no one was very inclined to listen to a lone sergeant that looked like death warmed over. Chuck knew that it would considerably help his career if he was less sleep-deprived, but that wouldn’t happen as long as he had to sleep in a bunker dorm room with five other soldiers that snored, farted, and / or had undiagnosed sleep apnea.

Chuck glared at the bottom of Bouchard’s bunk as the seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly. The ventilation clanged again. That was new.

When he had first seen this bunk room, it had seemed to him like a silent tomb. Eighty feet underground, on the lowest floor of a state-of-the-art military facility, it was a room about the same size as his grandmother’s bathroom in which someone had shoved enough beds for six people. The walls felt heavy, the ceiling was low, and it was pretty much impossible to forget all of the tens of thousands of pounds of rock, steel and concrete sitting right on top of his head. Back then, the ventilation had run smoothly, and the corridors were still empty of the beehive of human activity that their sheer size promised. The bunk room was enclosed in a perfectly claustrophobic silence that promised an equal chance of the best sleep of his life or a panic attack.

But then Bouchard, his future personal nemesis, had poked his head into the room behind him. Upon seeing the poster on the wall warning them about “enemy agents subverting them via sexual promiscuity”, he’d let out a noise between a snort and a braying laugh. Chuck had not known peace since.

He’d tried everything. Meditation. Reiki. Over-the-counter sleeping aids. What had come the closer to working was Johnson’s grandmother’s “sleepytime tea”, but while it made Chuck’s body immensely tired and relaxed, his brain still felt like it was hooked up to a car battery. The contrast between a dead-tired body and an overly active mind made for a profoundly unpleasant experience. The obvious next step should have been professional sleeping aids, but the bunker’s heartless on-site doctor refused to prescribe them to him, on the pretext that Chuck might get addicted. Figured. You get one measly footnote on your medical file about a history of substance abuse — not even his own, mind you! A relative getting too enthusiastic about self-medicating their chronic pain, which as far as he was concerned seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do! — and suddenly nobody wanted to prescribe anyone anything for the next three to four generations.

It was all such bull. Getting a bit too reliant on sleeping aids still seemed like a much better solution than hitting his head with a baseball bat just so his brain would stop, which he was four seconds away from doing, but alas. As long as the insomnia didn’t impact his performance, the higher-ups didn’t see it as a problem. And Chuck was too much of a professional to let it impact his performance, so it seemed that he was trapped in a hell of his own making for at least the foreseeable future.

Nearby, one of the sleeping soldiers mumbled something and turned over. Chuck checked his watch. If he fell asleep now, he would get three hours of rest. He could function on three hours, right?

[imtherainbownow]

If you come out with More prompts that actually give me inspiration i might as well Turn into a short Story blog which is not my goal. Anyways, let’s go!

——————

“Oh for fu-“

I Slam My Hand against the chair, keeping mind not to hit the buttons. It felt like i was interrogating a toddler, not a High Class intelligent Computer.

“Please How do you Operate the ship? Everyone else’s gone missing, Captian’s Gone, crew’s gone, I’m the last one here you Little-“

“I cannot Sense Any life force in the hull.”

My rant gets cut off by the robotic AI again. The same response i had been getting since I started this impossible task of trying to find somewhere to go. I barely knew my way around the ship, hell, memories are a blur, i knew nothing except what was in my muscle memory. And here I was, pleading to a computer for assistance.

“I’m aware Computer, or whatever Your Name is. Tell me How the hell you Pilot this thing, or at least give me a map.”

In what Memories i had remaining, i remembered steering a transportation class ship. Not sure what making, Design, or anything else, But This - This ship was nothing like my memories.

“I cannot Sense any li-“

“I KNOW ALREADY GODDAMNIT. THEIR ALL DEAD OKAY? GONE. I NEED TO CONTACT ASSISTANCE OR GET TO THE NEAREST STATION. I HAVE NO TIME FOR THIS!”

I stood up sharply, slamming my hands against the surface in front of me. The computer quieted. I groaned, pulling On my hair as i sunk to my knees. Exhausted, unsure of what to feel. The loneliness sunk in, it was just me. Dressed in all white clothes, hell, where did they come from? I never wore anything like This in what Little memories I have. The world was slipping and fading away. I didnt notice at first, frustrated and tired. I looked up the Computer, but It’s Screen was no longer there. My head tilted in confusion. The panel in front of me glitched, a toothy, angry red grin appeared. I backed up, bumping into the chair. Or, what I thought was the chair.

I turned around and saw him. He towered over me, bloody and grim. His face was blurred and blacked out. He laughed, sinister, dark.

He grabbed me by my collar and pushed me against the panel. The ship was no longer there, i soon realized. Instead it was replaced by a blackened, almost charcoal coloured room, smelling like ash and fire.

Tears started threatening to spill out of my eyes, I could feel My Heart in my chest. Looking up at the man Holding me down, the same blood red grin from the panel Now On his face. He let go, and I dropped to the floor, gasping for precious air.

He Just Looked down at My pathetic Body. Whimpering and shaking, i tried to crawl away but my back hit the cold metal wall. I was trapped, with him.. This was it, this was how I met my end.

His hands looked more like claws the Closer he got to me. I Tensed up, waiting for the inevitable. He raised a hand, and stopped. I watched in anticipation, wanting it all to be over, to end.

He crumpled to the floor, hissing, screeching. My Vision Started to blacken, as i grew weaker and the exhaustion finally hitting again. It claimed my body as it’s own, and I passed out.

———

Beeping. All i could Hear was beeping. It grew louder, and louder. Slowly, i opened My Eyes. The bright lights And pure white Walls Blinded me. Squinting, i looked around.

It was a medical room. Nothing fancy like a hospital, but clearly made to be treating injured patients. I looked at myself. One arm was covered in bandages, whereas the other just had a few band aids on it. I Lifted My uninjured Hand to feel my throat. There Too, was scratchy, rough bandages. I could feel Some on My Face too, covering almost the entire lower half, save for my mouth and nose.

The door opened, i watched as a woman, probably a nurse, wearing scrubs walked in followed by another. Maybe a doctor? I wasnt aware enough to Tell. Their faces lit up a tiny bit when they noticed I was awake.

“Marie, get the medic, they’re awake. I’ll run vitals.”

The First hurriedly told the other. The other woman nodded and ran out. I sighed and leaned My head back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling, Waiting.

Minutes later the nurse, who i assumed was Marie since thats what the other called her, walked in with a tall feminine figure. She Must have been the doctor. The woman sat down next to me and smiled.

“Welcome back to the Land of the living. If we didn’t pick up your ship’s distress beacon you would have died. Those were some serious injuries. I’ll give you the run down when you’re more.. awake. For now, I’m Doctor Wright, You’re currently on a Military Class Transport Shuttle on the way to planet 39-B, Volcanic classification, also known as, planet Zephron. You’re in Safe Hands From now on. Rest Easy, you’ve got a lot of recovery ahead of you..”

She turned to speak with the other nurses. Mentally, i sighed And went back to sleep again, exhausted still.

———

“That thing we found over them.. that was a you-know-what wasnt it?”

“Indeed it was Dr. Wright. Beasts capable of creating illusions, to manipulate their prey into well, you know the details i guess. They were lucky we got there before that Monster got. bored and decided to eat.. the damage I’ve seen them do..”

“I know. Let’s Hope That they forget it all, and can go back to a normal life. Marie, Silvia, What Are their vitals?”

———

(i apologize for any and all Random capitalizations. My autocorrect likes to be funky. I would turn it off but I can’t for personal reasons.)

You’re the only person on board an empty Galaxy-Class starship, and you have zero knowledge of how to operate one. Describe your conversation with the ship’s computer.

[radiologica]

Symbiotic

Ch. 1: At Blizzards Mercy

My eyes open at the sound of something dropping to the ground a room over. Muffled curses meet my ears as I listen to the source of my sudden consciousness. I hear the sound of something being swept into a dustpan, then poured out into the garbage. Wonder which dish Viktor broke this time, hopefully it wasn't the deep one. Plates that are also bowls are the best. So useful for more runny food that doesn't quite need a bowl, but spills out of shallow plates. I swear if that ass broke my Blate, I'm gonna beat him.

I groan, throwing my covers off and over to the side, promptly being met by a cold breeze. Slipping on my house shoes, I begin my journey to investigate whether or not Viktor will be receiving a death sentence. Turning the corner I see none other than my dear twin brother, trying his best to clean the mess he had made. I knock on the doorframe, making him stop and look up at me. He doesn't look terrified, so my beloved Blate lives on as well as Viktor.

“Happy birthday, clutz.” I sneer, earning a sharp glare from my lovely brother.

“You could help ya know,” He replied.

“Nuh uh,” He glares harder, “your mess.” I duck as he chucks the thankfully empty dustpan at my head.

“Stop it you two, you're acting like toddlers.” We both jump as our dad walks out from the hallway. He picks up the dustpan and whacks both Victor and I as he passes, taking care not to step on any ceramic shards. “You're both eighteen now, thank god.” He grabs a mug and begins to boil water over the small fire pit on the counter. “Speaking of such, eat some breakfast. We're heading out in an hour.” He grins at us, pouring a cup of tea and leaving for the living room.

Today was both of our birthdays. Our eighteenth birthdays at that. With our new coming of age, we gain a lot of things such as freedom, the ability to get a house, etc. However, there's one thing that overshadows the excitement of these new freedoms. Something even more exciting. You see, when a person turns eighteen on Draco, we get a uh.. pet of sorts. We bond with a creature through our soul, using the lifeblood of our planet. Once bound, the link can only be broken in death. If the link is broken, either half will never bond to another soul. For some, they decide to go for a smaller animal. Not Me. If I'm gonna be a freighter, I'll need something bigger than a scurrier or snowhop. That's why I'm gonna get a polydrake. They’re the biggest land animal on the tundra, being the perfect fit for a job that requires heavy lifting. With six legs, sickle claws, thick feathers, and the build of a powerlifter, tundra polydrakes are the best option for hard jobs. So it's common sense for me to bind to one.

“What are you planning to go for?” I ask Viktor once our father is gone. Maybe he's also obsessively considered what field he's going into and what he’ll get for it…

“I dunno…” He pauses. “Something that flies for sure. Probably an aeromonitor.” He finishes, rummaging through the cabinets for something of substance.

Damn it.

“Cool,cool,” I nod. “I uh, I'm gonna get a polydrake. Ya know, so I can be a freighter.” I swing my hands, attempting to cut the awkwardness I created.

“Cargo transport is dangerous work, Vetka.” Viktor grabs some dried fish from the cabinet, holding a handful out to me, he asks. “What will you do when you get caught in a blizard? What if you get attacked by a taurovyern?” He waves his hands around, seeming to animate his concerns.

“First, they train you for blizards.” I take the dried fish he offered once he puts his hands down. “Second, taurovyerns hardly ever attack polydrakes.” I stuff a peice of fish in my mouth. His concerns are valid but, I’m sure they wont be a problem for me. Taurovyern’s are easy to avoid and pacify, and blizards are a common ocurance I’m used to. I’ll be fine…

~Two hours later~

[Location: Aurora Peaks]

“Where is everyone,” I whisper to myself. Our father had dropped us off on opposite sides of the mountain range near our town. The Aurora Peaks. It’s said to be a hotspot for bigger speices, but today is different... Its been an hour and I’m yet to see a sign of life, not even a call from an animal. I shiver, begining to hate the silence. It’s too damn quiet. Last time dad took us up here, we couldn’t go fifty feet without seeing something. Now the landscape is still, almost as if something horrible would happen if they even dared to breath. I continue my search, taking care not to be too loud. I walk another hundred yards or so before I hear something. It’s an unmistakeable sound that the tundra’s people know so well. Roaring and howling unlike any creature, I look to the peaks to confirm. A blizzard… A big one, a pure white wall of galeforce winds, snow, and ice sharp enough to cut.

I begin my race to find a shelter just as the wall crests over the peaks, swallowing them into its depths. My panic rises as I remember something. Viktor. Viktor’s on the other side of the mountain. I stop and turn toward the blizzard, wanting to run right into it. “I would freeze before I even got to the top..” I remind myself. I clench my fists, praying Viktor found cover. As I continue down the mountain side I can feel the wind. It’s catching up. Just as I do another scan for anything to take cover in or under, a tree root trips me. I tumble down the slope, finally stopping when my back slams into a tree. With a spotty conscience, I manage to crawl behind the tree.

“Damn it…” I hiss, looking at my leg. My calf was cut badly and I could tell I bumped my head pretty bad. All I could do was watch as my fate approached. It’s not too uncommon for people to come back injured, dead, or turn up missing. I never thought I’d be one of those people, but here I am. Stuck. About to freeze out here. I clutch the vile of liquid I was given for my partner. Just as I was beginning to accept how I would end, I heard something over the rapidly approaching blizzard. It was the cry of an animal. I looked up to see the most welcome sight of my life. It was a large creature, running as fast as it could in my direction. As it got closer I was able to see what it was. A beautiful polydrake, pure white with ice green and dark gray patterns. It continued its sprint, wasting no time swooping me up and retreating. It held me by the scruff of my jacket, making me wince at the sudden movement to my head and leg.

As we made our decent, I spotted our destination. There was a cave opening, half buried by the last blizzard that ripped through the mountain. It made a beeline for the opening, quickly moving the snow to squeeze into the room behind. It made its way to the back of the cave, setting me down between the wall and a large rock, effectively shielding me from the winds that would still blow into the cave. The large animal finally turned to me, walking closer and plopping down in front of me. For the first time I got a look at it, or more accurately, her. She tilted her head at me, and I did the same. Slowly, I extended my hand toward her. She sniffed it, sneezing before placing her forehead in my palm. I chuckle as she crawls forward to rest her head in my lap. She’s quite heavy, and it’s not exactly helping my leg, but at the moment I could care less. I move my hand to the vial in my pocket, taking the top out and letting the now mist-like substance escape. It wound its way around the both of us, eventually dispating. Suddenly, I felt an odd hum in my chest and threw my hands up. With a victorious whoop, I knew it, I had found my best friend.

Despite the happiness I felt, I still held a deep worry in the back of my mind. I rested my hand back on my polydrake.

“Please, for the love of everything, let Viktor be safe.”

[cuteteacakes]

akumanoken

Lol a mental is no android but a human who has trained his mind to work like a computer. Thinking computers are banned after humanity's enslavement by AI. OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE READING DUNE MY LOVE IT'S A WILD RIDE IT'S VERY WEIRD HOLD ONTO YOUR STILLSUIT

So far, I am treating it like high fantasy and just, letting the story take me where it takes me. The audio book I'm listening to has multiple narrators too so it's like a radio show kind of!

[danielleurbansblog]

Review: Writers of The Future Vol. 39

Synopsis: In the world of speculative fiction… Your favorite authors…Have selected the best new voices of the year. 24 Award-winning Authors and Illustrators. 3 Bonus Short Stories by Kevin J. Anderson • L. Ron Hubbard • S. M. Stirling. Art and Writing Tips by Lazarus Chernik • L. Ron Hubbard • Kristine Kathryn Rusch. Edited by Dean Wesley Smith • Jody Lynn Nye. 16-page color gallery of artwork…