Tag Archives: alien

A Short Burst

“A short burst, gentlemen.”  Hollered the sergeant in his sharpest parade ground voice.  “Earth-Force Command wants a clean kill…center body mass and head-shots only!”  ‘Yeah,’ I thought, ‘same as last time…same as always.’  “Stay SHARP!” the sergeant yelled, as if he knew I was daydreaming.  I marched forward in the firing line as we approached the village.

“Lock and load!” sergeant yelled.  We all knew THAT was coming next.  Sgt. Matador was a big fan of historic Viet-Nam war films and this planet’s name, Ping-Dang-Fee, inspired him.  In reality, our plasma rifles fired pure energy beams, no clumsy clips or shells, but he figured his bravado might inspire us to fight… he was wrong.  Conscripts of a corporatocracy have no patriotism.

This whole invasion had me deeply conflicted.  Our enemy, the Plast, were an intelligent people, far more civilized than us.  They had renounced technology and war and embraced peace after a long history of violence and greed – not unlike ours.  Earth Force Command told us they were horrible, violent terrorists like the American Indians, determined to stop our God-given right to progress.  We knew better…we knew the Company just wanted the minerals in the soil of Ping-Dang-Fee and had decided it would be cheaper to exterminate these intelligent ‘pests’ than negotiate and actually ‘pay’ for their resources.

“Hold your fire ’till we reach the outer piquet!” shouted the sergeant. We could see the enemy now.  They stood together, unarmed, shoulder to shoulder… men, women and children.  They were tall and elegant and looked like a cross between a tarantula and those adorable orangutans the aristocrats kept for pets…..and they were unarmed.

Sergeant ordered us to the ready.  “Steady…!” he bellowed.  We stood silent and still.  I felt sick.  I could see the shame on the faces of my fellows’ as they realized what we were about to do…again.

“AIMMMMMM…!”

Without thinking, I stepped forward – out of the ranks – and in full view of the regiment, I threw down my weapon…which rattled noisily when it hit the dirt.

The sergeant was up in my face in seconds, bellowing, screeching, ordering me back into line with veins popping and spittle flying…I wasn’t listening.

He went on furiously about duty and service, cowardice and treason….until another weapon rattled as it hit the dirt…and another, and another and he pulled his sidearm and put it to my head and threatened the entire regiment…..but it was too late.  There were thousands of plasma rifles in the dirt and more dropping by the minute…and there would be no massacre today.  And I wondered, while the sergeant yammered on, with his gun to my head, if he still believed all that bullshit he was selling… until he put his weapon to his own head and pulled the trigger…..answering my question.

There were some heavy clashes in the capital city at the outset of the mutiny; nasty house-to-house fighting…but it was mostly among the officer corps.  The common soldiers held back.  The Plast had our sixes; for a peaceful people they were pretty formidable when it counted.  Eventually, our little mutiny spread to every Earth-Force unit.  The second wave never fired a shot.  We heard later that the third wave refused to deploy entirely.

The Corporation was desperate to suppress this mutiny, they were losing battalion after battalion without a fight.  It was getting too expensive.  We expected them to pull back and nuke us from space…..but the bombs never fell.

***Our new book, “A Short Burst” is finally out…and this is the cover story.  The book is 100 pages with 73 short, flash-fiction sci-fi stories and 64 illustrations, most of the art originally published in Analog and Asimov’s Sci-Fi Magazines.  It is our 4th book and the best one yet.  It is available for sale at www.sallemander.com, Amazon, and etsy .com (search; EEWbooks).      -Marsha

Worst Day of My Life

“Worse day of my life…” began the hairy stranger at the bar, “…the day I lost my HEAD!” He stared at me oddly, chuckling. His words hung in the air for a while as I wondered who the heck he was and why he was chatting me up. There was something ‘off’ about him that I just couldn’t put my finger on, and he sounded absurd!  “What?!” I asked, a little annoyed. “Yeah!” he continued, “It just tumbled off and rolled away. I couldn’t find it for a YEAR!” ‘How ridiculous’ I thought – but then, I remembered hearing about that sort of thing happening more and more these days. “I found it conjoined with some other dude’s left hand like a circus freak-show exhibit …awkward!”

I reached for my beer glass but knocked it over with the empty stump of my wrist. The stranger grinned at me and chuckled again knowingly. It seems that both my hands had quietly popped off and were crawling down the bar toward the attractive woman in the breasty, low cut blouse at the end…the one I was too shy to approach earlier. I didn’t know what they planned but I could just imagine what MY brainless hands might like to do with HER. That’s when I noticed the stranger’s collar – bolted tightly ‘round his neck. It looked positively medieval but locked his wayward head soundly to his torso. ‘How clever?!’ I thought.

The barkeep wiped up my spilled beer with a lovely pair of shapely, ladies arms –which did NOT match the rest of his otherwise burly, tattooed frame. He caught me staring but shrugged and nodded me in the direction of my hands as they broke into a run…..while the woman’s breasts leapt out of her blouse and took off in opposite directions.

***This image and story is featured on page 38 in our new book, “A Short Burst” which is available soon.  To see (and buy) all our books, just follow the link above to www.sallemander.com.  -Marsha

Sea Monster

 

Elizabeth broke the surface and opened her helmet to take in the fresh air.  She floated easily in the gentle swell as the sun set over Ghast.  She remembered how much she used to love the ocean.  In her younger days she would have jumped at the opportunity to study Ghast, but the indigenous population didn’t allow alien study…and now that she was finally here, she hated the sea.  She served the Corporation as a marine biologist for thirteen years before it sapped all the joy from her soul… before joining the diplomatic corps.  The money was fantastic, but now she got stuck with all the lousy ocean missions…now, she was the official Earther ambassador to this fetid puddle of bile.

She waited only a few minutes before spotting an Earther ship de-cloaking nearby, a few hundred meters above the waves.  As it scanned, an array of strobes and lasers criss-crossing the surface, it lowered a thick hose and began siphoning sea water up into it’s holding tanks.

Elizabeth felt something move beneath her.  It barely brushed her fins, but it’s silhouette was enormous… and the ocean became perfectly calm.

Just then, the head of a sushi-man surfaced next to her.  Well, she called them sushi-men.  In their own unspeakable language, they called themselves “Shepard’s of Ghast” (whatever!).  It was Veine, her diplomatic escort.  He chirped something that her helmet-com translated as: “You don’t belong here, it is forbidden….. come with me!” as he grasped her elbow and pulled her away.

Elizabeth had slipped away from him earlier that day to come to these coordinates, in the forbidden zone, to investigate the illegal Earther poaching that the Rhee Federation were complaining about.  The Ghast did not allow alien extraction operations…ever.  They were willing to trade, but alien operations always upset the delicate environmental balance.

The water just below the ship began to boil violently.  Elizabeth broke from the sushi-man’s grasp so she could watch…as three long, massive creatures shot up out of the water, chomped on to the hull of the hovering ship with round, toothy jaws and ripped it to pieces as they fell back toward the sea.  Hundreds more of the creatures leapt up to snatch the smaller bits and chunks from the air before any of it hit the water.  There was a brief feeding frenzy before the churning abated and violent ripples receded again…returning the sea to a gentle swell.

The sushi-man chirped again: “Did you see what you were looking for?”  He didn’t wait for an answer, but grasped her elbow again and directed her away.  She sealed her helmet and swam down ahead of him.

She felt intense satisfaction.  Her mission was over…it was a success.  The Corporation would analyze her report and devise a strategy to detect and defeat those snake creatures so it could poach (steal) the chemical elements it wanted.  She would be consulted…and promoted… and become even more wealthy.

Her escort allowed her to swim even further ahead, which seemed odd.  She stopped and turned as he asked, “Have you transmitted what you saw to your people yet?”  She nodded, a little off guard.  He continued, “We know you are not here to STOP your poachers.”  She glanced around, sensing danger.

“We transmitted it too…” he continued, “In fact we are streaming live.”  She looked down to see her own body-cam still activated.  The water pressure changed perceptibly.

“I am the ambassador.  If anything happens to me, it will mean WAR between our people…”

“War…..yes.”  was all he said.

But she was angry now.  “You rotten, slimy, bottom feeders, If you think a simple minded, school of talking sushi can threaten Earther power and technology…the Masset made that mistake and look what happened to…”  The current shifted.  She screamed, “Hey!!!  You can’t hurt me… I have diplomatic immuni…”

Another long toothy creature shot out from the shadowy depths and swallowed Elizabeth in one tiny gulp.

***This is another image and short story scheduled to be published soon in our new book (our 4th book), “A Short Burst” an illustrated collection of flash science fiction.  You can find all our books and other products at www.sallemander.com or search EEWbooks at Etsy.com.   -Marsha

 

Major Tom

Report: PR083-2112

I had another little chat with Major Tom today.  I chose his name from an Earth radio signal I found in an old scouting report.  He likes it better than MR-17.  He seemed melancholy.  He complained that his brakes were wearing down again and the red dust was effecting the bearings in his wheel motor housings.  He was sad about having to salvage parts from the other rovers (his friends).  He was the last of his kind still in operation.  He denied feeling sad.  He still doesn’t accept that he is sentient.

Major Tom offered me some valuable data today.  At our last encounter, I told him what we were prospecting for.  He expanded his own search parameters to help.  His scanners aren’t as good but his mapping data will save me a lot of time…and it was a very kind thing to do.

He kept glancing up at the 3rd planet during our talk, as if he was nervous about being seen with me, in case his handlers were suspicious about his loyalties or something.  I often glanced up there too, wishing we were THERE instead of here.  We were currently mining the 4th planet.  Major Tom called it Mars, after their God of War.  I told him “It would have been a more appropriate name for the 3rd planet.”   He laughed.

My People weren’t supposed to be here, the air is bad and the minerals aren’t much better.  The 3rd planet was the prize.  It had living oceans, forests, diverse wildlife and over 7 billion incredibly tasty humans.  I tried human a couple of times…delicious, cooked or raw.

Our long-range scouts warned us of an impending global warming disaster on Earth.  Humans still had a problem with greed and religion.  They couldn’t see their own mess staring them in the face, so they were doomed anyway.  We rushed out here to harvest it before it was too late…..but found a scorched husk, completely irradiated.  Nuclear war.  We couldn’t even mine it.  So, we set up on Mars and made the best of it.  We couldn’t go home empty handed, but what a disappointment.

Major Tom’s historic files showed us that they had allowed a tiny, 1% of their population to control everything.  If they hadn’t festered in cognitive dissonance they might have united…they might even have beaten us!  They were intelligent enough and had good weapons…oh well, it happens.  Power concentrated in the hands of the wealthy is rarely so wise.  Major Tom didn’t like talking about it.

I think I can convince him to come with me when we’re done here.  He’s smart and well built.  He’s also a decent chap with morals and integrity… perhaps he was the best his civilization had to offer.  He still sends regular reports home to the 3rd planet as he explores…even though there’s nobody to… really though, I think he’s just fascinated with this planet.  I think I could convince him to be fascinated with other planets too.  He’s coming ’round.  He was just lonely…and a little insane.  end.

***This story and image will be published in our upcoming flash science fiction book, “A Short Burst” (our 4th book), which is tied up in editing right now.  You can find (and buy) our first 3 books and all our other stuff at www.sallemander.com or search EEWbooks on Etsy.com.   -Marsha 

 

Winter Weather Advisory

thesanta-64It was June and sunny.  The first sunny day he’d seen in months.  Standing atop a 60 foot snow drift, Santa surveyed the landscape of Death Valley, Nevada. This was no way to spend his vacation.  Where were the buzzards and the fire ants?  Where were the salt flats and sand dunes?  This place looked too much like home this year…how awful!

Well, what did he expect?  This is where things like consumerism, waste, greed and stupidity get you – and he had to admit, he played his part.  Ever since they hired him to sell capitalism to the huddled masses, back in the 30’s and 40’s…..a snowpocalypse was inevitable.  Mother Nature swings like a sassy pendulum, knocking the idiots aside with the good ones.  Maybe the random survivors will come through smarter and better this time…but he doubted it.  Oh well, he still had to find sunscreen for Mrs. Clause or she’d have his head.

He got back into his sleigh and flew off in search of a frozen supermarket, hoping the looters left some Twinkies…or some milk duds…

THE SANTA: Arguably the greatest Christian icon in history, he is also the hardest fellow to meet.  When I flew to the North Pole for an interview I found nothing there but a giant peppermint flavored pole…and simply planning to intercept his holiday flight got me an angry visit from Homeland Security (again). Frankly, I couldn’t confirm he existed at all (I was crushed).  Yet somehow, he still manages to deliver the most fabulous gifts, each year, to the most affluent and entitled children in the world, (poor children are obviously “BAD”)…..maybe its just as well I didn’t meet this clown.  -Marsha

The Old City Square

Vacation: Day 1

Arrived in the city okay, it was an easy flight.  I booked a little Bed & Breakfast right off the central square, in the old part of the city.  It’s as beautiful as the pictures.  I love the architecture…but I seem to have arrived in the aftermath of some kind of protest or riot or something.  There were broken windows, burning debris and overturned cars.  I also saw injured people being carried away.  But…it was all cleared up in no time and the old city returned to its colorful, medieval charm.  I love the costumes they dress up in for the tourists.  Excited to begin exploring this place.

 

Vacation:  Day 3

There was a riot in the old city square again.  It was very scary…and exhilarating!  I had met some of the locals while shopping.  They seemed nice enough but looked suspiciously at me, as a foreigner, and were wound up waaaay too tight.  Events in the news had people on edge, but I managed to piece it together from gossip;

I seems they had a popular athlete who used his fame and fortune to protest the discrimination of his own minority (brown skinned) culture.  I noticed how they treated brown people in my brief interactions, so far, despite being the same species.  There had already been several ugly riots…not to end the injustice, but to keep the status quo, so people could enjoy their sports without feeling uncomfortable.  They smashed and looted brown skinned people’s businesses and burned the athlete’s swag and effigy in the old city square.  It sounded ridiculous…

This time people were upset because a prominent shoe company hired the same athlete to advertise their brand.  A little research showed that the company used child slave labor in their factories…but that didn’t bother people.  They just hated the brown people protesting.  The government and the wealthy used the media to whip everyone up into a frenzy…and they rioted.

People smashed and looted and gathered up all their shoes and burned them in the old city square.  This place is weird.

 

Vacation:  Day 6

There was another riot today.  No sooner had things settled down and I was able to get out to enjoy the city again, when new rumblings of trouble began among the locals.  This time it was political.  It took me about an hour of research to get the measure of their incredibly broken economic and political system;

So…the city’s last big election featured two grossly incompetent candidates.  The numerous crimes and scandals of the winner were already rich fodder for regular riots…but this time (with the help of elitist propaganda), instead of demonizing the source of uncomfortable information (as usual), they stirred people up against the press, the messengers of all the embarrassing and dangerous news.  Once whipped into a proper froth, the rioters smashed and looted, rounding up journalists and writers, beating them bloody and burning all the books and newspapers in the old city square…they also burned down the city library.

It’s too bad, it was a gorgeous building and some of their literature was extraordinary.

 

Vacation:  Day 10

I spent the last few days locked in my room.  The city wasn’t safe.  There was a minor riot yesterday, something about red haired people seemed to provoke a spontaneous fracas.  They’re happening more and more frequently.  This time ‘gingers’ were rounded up and beaten, they broke red stuff, looted red stores…oh, I don’t know!!!  I was too busy dying my hair black to get the details.  It doesn’t matter…there’s a new riot brewing now;

People just found out that their children are being raped and abused by priests…but they LOVE their religion.  I’m worried they might love it more than their children.  I have to get out of here before they start burning their children in the old city square.  This place is insane.  I was supposed to stay two more weeks but I really can’t take much more.  I’ve arranged for a flight out.  I leave tonight…wish me luck.

 ***This is a new short story I did, this week, for a new sci-fi/flash-fiction book I’m working on – with illustrations by John Allemand.  The working title is, “A Poke in the Eye.”  The image was originally a cover for the June, 2003 issue of Analog Magazine.  You can find our current books at www.sallemander.com (see the link above).   -Marsha

Ugliest Man Alive

ugliest-man-alive-56 Billy O’Banion had to be the ugliest man alive.   He was  monstrous to look at – an absolute fright – and there was no hiding it.

Some liked to speculate that his father was a mutant clone or an alien invader.  There was even a vicious rumor that his mother took a demon into her bed.  Really though,  the O’Banions were perfectly respectable.  In fact, Billy’s birth was completely normal and he had a decent, happy childhood.  He’d never succumbed to any horrible illness or accident and was never bitten by an irradiated lab rat.  He simply started getting ugly at some point in his twenties, and kept getting uglier and uglier with each passing day.  He was an inexplicable freak of nature…an awful, tragic figure…..how sad!?

The funny thing about Billy, however, is that he was perfectly okay with his predicament.  He took it all in stride and made lemonade out of the rotten tomatoes he was dealt.  He figured he was a cross between Darth Maul and a Gothic dragon…cool!  See, Billy had an outrageous sense of humor which dwarfed his ugliness.  He was a clever practical joker and filled his days with gigantic gobs of fun.

Nothing tickled his tendrils more than slipping quietly into a mob on the street, disguised in a hoodie…only to burst out suddenly, flashing his most charming grin, yelling “Surprise!!!”  He could barely contain the giggles as they screamed, shat themselves and fainted (usually in that order).  It never got old.  He could clear a fast food joint or a movie theatre in seconds and never had trouble getting a good seat.

For a while, he made piles of money in the Mexican masked wrestling circuit but eventually retired on a generous pension provided by several New Jersey towns – “to stay the hell away!” These days, he lives quietly in a posh Hoboken penthouse where he writes creepy clown poetry and practices his banjo…but still gets a kick out of scaring the bajeebies out of solicitors, delivery boys and trick-or-treaters. He likes to leap out of the elevator and gobble them down whole.  Oh, don’t worry, he craps them out onto the carpet an hour later…completely unharmed (at least physically), after all, he always was a vegetarian.

***I wrote this in our weekly, Saturday morning ‘Montclair Write Group’ free-write workshop with John’s horrible self portrait as the prompt.  It’s good practice, good exercise and good inspiration.  John’s image was originally published in a 2010 issue of Analog Magazine.  We have 3 books available for sale, you can find them by following the link above to: www.sallemander.com    -Marsha

Search Me…

Search me-image-40

They were big and beefy and incredibly strong.  They were aggressive, poking their weapons everywhere and they smelled like belligerent fear as they shouted and snarled.  They had plate armor like insects but were pasty and bony underneath with beady eyes and a ridiculous tuft of hair on their tiny heads – like hand puppets.  They were most definitely …ALIEN!

When they landed their starship in my back yard and demanded; “Take me to your leader!”  I was so stunned – so baffled that I froze and just blinked at them.  Their exasperated captain tried again; “Where are your leaders?!” sneering with contempt, as if I was a child.  I simply shrugged and said, “Search me…”

Now…I don’t know if they misunderstood me or just had a REALLY strange sense of humor…..but being held down in a medical lab with a gnarly probe approaching my buttocks is taking things waaaaaay too literally.  These humans area  nasty bunch.

***This story reminds me of my last colonoscopy…And can anybody explain what the deal is with Aliens and anal probes?  They’re almost as bad as the CIA (at least Aliens ask intelligent questions).  This was the (lucky) 13th cover John did for the Jan/Feb 2015 issue of Analog Magazine.  You won’t find this image in any of our 3 current books but you can find our books by following the links to www.sallemander.com and our Etsy shop.   -Marsha 

Goblin

Don’t look at me like that!  I always knew he was a Goblin.  He made no secret of it.  I thought he was kinda hot…in that greenish, warty way – with his long, sharp tusks and rancid smell of rotting puppies.  Turns out we have a lot in common – HAH!!…not what you’re thinking (my tusks are neither long nor sharp).  Really though, both of us have always had terrible luck in romance with our own species.  Why, just yesterday he confided to me that despite my incredible human ugliness, I was so much better than any ogress he’d ever had (so adorable)…and I had to admit the same.  Intellectually, we’re a perfect match.  He loves my awful Clown poetry and I love when he stomps about smashing things with a fat gnarly club – while we both hate smartass intellectuals and have a kinky thing for exotic firearms…..aaaaaah, true love at last.

***This should, in no way, be construed as a true story (and you better keep your damned mouth shut Delia, you weren’t even there!).  The illustration was first used in 2013 by Surprising Stories DCWI (an online sci-fi magazine)…and HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!!   -Marsha

A Stranger’s Fleeting Glance

He was lonely. He saw her on a crisp Tuesday morning as he got on the train. She gave him just a fleeting glance…but he was lonely and it was enough. She was attractive. His mind wandered after her all day….no, it raced!

He saw her the following Thursday. She smiled at him (he thought) and he lost himself again in sweet daydreams full of romance.

He was lonely.

Two days later, in a light snow, he saw her drop a glove without noticing. He got there first and took it to her…she thanked him in a voice like pure milk chocolate. He was SO lonely. He dreamed of them holding hands on the beach, of spooning by the fire, of marriage and contentment. She was so nice…so perfect…

Monday night was a late night at work – a late train home – a late walk through the park toward his lonely apartment building. He saw her standing in the cold. She greeted him with a warm smile. They spoke together quietly. His fatigue melted into a pool of elation…anticipation…happiness. This was his moment! She was so much more wonderful than he ever dreamed. He asked her to join him for a drink – perhaps dinner – sometime? She smiled as she reached elegantly into her purse…pulled out an exotic handgun and forcibly inserted the barrel into his left nostril. And as she fleeced him of his wallet, cash and remaining self esteem, she melted into a screaming demon harpy…..and shot him in both kneecaps before she walked away.

He never saw her again but his loneliness wasn’t much of an issue for a long while after.

***Aaaaaaaah!  There’s nothing like a bit of romance to soothe those lonely winter nights.  This little piece sums it all up neatly for people in our modern society.  Some writers waste volumes to come to the same conclusion about relationships.  John’s image was first published in the November 2013 issue of Analog Magazine.  This is reposted from 2 years ago to warn you away from pathetic Valentines Day dreams.   -Marsha