by Gerson Lodi-Ribeiro
This was the first time we made love in more than 170 years, objective time. More important yet: I hadn’t copulated with him since two months before the last period of Sleep, when we were in the Delta Pavonis system. Continue Reading »
by Nick Pollota
„Ladies and gentlemen, we’re almost there!“ Erik Kaye cried into his hand-held mike, while hanging out the open window of the antique-style train engine.
The cool Titan wind whipped his curly gray hair into a wild frenzy, totally unlike the usual neat perfection his billions of TriD viewers were familiar with, and for the first time in his life, Kaye didn’t give a good goddamn. They were going to make it! This was the story of the year! Hell, the decade! If only he knew what it was. Continue Reading »
by Swapnil Bhartiya Arnie
Jason Lee slid the curtain aside and felt a mild gust of fresh breeze fill his lungs. He stared out the window. Far across the patchless landscape, behind the hedges over steep mountain cliffs the sun was rising with the promises of another warm day. He took a deep breath and turned.
Sarah was still in bed. She stretched her body, sliding the sheet off her face. How beautiful she is. He sighed. Sarah yawned and opened her eyes. Continue Reading »
by Helmuth W. Mommers
I hate funerals, have always hated them. Even more so when they’re held on moist cold November days while it’s drizzling. Like today. There one stands, shoulders pulled up, left hand holding an umbrella, breathing fog and praying that the priest cuts things short out of mercy for the living, before the puddles seeping into thin footwear climbs up cold legs. Like crows with folded wings, the mourners have gathered around the deceased’s coffin, that pale countenance of death, their thoughts weighed heavily by grief or the fear for their own mortality, with the onset of hunger steadily knotting up their insides. Finally! An amen seals the ceremony, and frees people to scoop up some earth and toss a final farewell down onto the coffin. Continue Reading »
by Win Lyovarin
Gorian Rain was born on Thorain, a planet in the Thorian stellar system. When he was ten, his father was killed by soldiers of the Davonian Constellation Federation for being the leader of the uprising to liberate Thorain after the planet had been mined for its ores by the Federation for more than a century. After his father’s death, his mother died of grief. Gorian Rain experienced a complete reversal from a gentle and peace-loving boy to one who was fond of arms and violence. He wanted to avenge the death of his father. From that time on no one ever set eyes on the boy Gorian Rain. It was rumored that he had been training for fighting at a guerrilla warfare academy in a secret valley of Dagon. After many years had elapsed, he emerged to fight against the Davonian Federation in the name of the “Thorain rebels.” He was a Staff Officer of the rebels in charge of planning sabotages on the planets of the Davonian Federation. Continue Reading »
by Alexander Marcos Osias
It is 08-08-2108, 0715 according to the Terran Standard Chronometer, and the closing act of Oplan Sanction is about to begin.
There, silhouetted against the crimson moon of New Isabella Three, hovering like an angry wasp, in geosynchronous orbit over its target, is a Malyari-class carrier: the R.P.S. Artemis. Continue Reading »
by Benjamin Kensey
„A huge oil slick was spotted in the Mediterranean last week. At Tranquility Base, they used the best optics available and do you know what they saw? It wasn’t oil. It was people: dead humans. They reckon five to six million corpses, all along the coast from Barcelona to Genoa. Just dumped there by the survivors. There’s a similar dark patch in Lake Michigan, three times the size. Others in the Bay of Bengal, the Yellow Sea. I could go on. You get the picture, Edward.“ Continue Reading »
by Khristo Poshtakov
The capsule was a product of humanity’s technological breakthrough, and the glaciated deposit on its metal surface spoke of numerous subspatial transitions. Its comfortable interior housed a small crew of three, who, despite minor squabbles and threats from outer space, tended to work well together during times of trial. Continue Reading »
by David Hontiveros
You know me on the boards as “Jim Crack,” but my real name is Peque.
I’m a basurero. A garbage collector in a small south-east Asian archipelago called the Philippines. You might better recall my country if you heard these words: Ferdinand Marcos and People Power.
I’m also a seroks; what’s known in the West as a dupe. Continue Reading »
by Justin Isis
Received 10/7, posted by R. Alejandro Lee (ID.M76-345-8761). I’m at a loss on this one. Obv. can’t publish it, although claims were investigated. Filed it for the time being. My comments follow.
In certain prior travels, chance conversations, the pages of obscure volumes, you will have occasionally sensed something, an illumination perhaps, of phenomena you had never consciously suspected but nevertheless knew to be true. Perhaps you felt as if you were recalling something glimpsed in a dream. You could not identify it, but an impression remained in your mind, troubling you with its familiarity. You were quick to dismiss it – how could you recognize something of which you had no recollection, something you could not define, something which, indeed, resisted definition? Continue Reading »