by P P Corcoran
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Pain converting to wrath, M12 directed every residual ounce of energy to his rage and tore into the Thing. Dodging tentacles, which previously would have slammed him to the ground, M12 tore into what he perceived to be a head. His teeth ripping into already open wounds. The Things screaming stopped, the excruciating pain disappearing like the sun burning the early morning mist from the valley floor. Reinvigorated, M12 felt the full force of his bloodlust course through his veins as he continue savaging the Thing, tearing ever deeper into the wounds his teeth and claws had already inflicted. He would not stop mauling this Thing, not until it lay lifeless on the forest floor. Sensing victory, M12 ripped ever deeper into the Thing, as tentacles pounded him relentlessly, blow after blow.
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Exhausted from the prolonged fight and with its reflex responses diminished to almost non-existence. The Creature struggled on with depleted energy and its last remaining tentacle spur. In a final, desperate attempt to secure victory it prepared a three echolocation pulse targeted at its attackers in a synchronized strike. Too late. All three lifeforms reached it at once, inflicting critical damage to the pulse projectors.
The combined weight of the three lifeforms was simply too much and the Creature shuddered to a halt within reach of the ever-enlarging portal.
Using the last vestiges of its strength the Creature swung its tentacle to bring it crashing down on the grey lifeform cracking its skull open with a sickening crunch. The sliver lifeform managed to avoid the full force of the swinging tentacle however, the glancing blow it received dropped it to the forest floor unconsciousness. If the Creatures external auditory sensors had still been functional it would have registered the black lifeforms howl of despair as it saw its brother and sister struck down. Able to fully concentrate on a single target the Creature wasted no time in pummeling its last remaining attacker unconscious.
As the black lifeform lay on the ground, the Creature rammed the spur home piercing the body through and through. At last, the battle with these aggressive lifeforms was over. The Creature dragged itself wearily toward the portal and survival. It attempted to retract the tentacle from the impaled life form only to encounter resistance removing the spur. A second attempt also resulted in failure as fatigue and whatever resistive pressure, on the spur, continued to prevented retrieval of its last armed tentacle. With increasing difficulty the Creature dragged itself forwards, the black lifeform, still impaled on its tentacle spur, trailing heavily along the ground.
Passing the unconscious silver lifeform the Creature wrapped two tentacles around its still body. Logic dictated that Home would need to assess the threat to any pending invasion posed by these lifeforms which had proven so difficult to overcome. The assessment on the biped beings, detailed on the signal received, omitted information on belligerent, indigenous lifeforms, as dangerous as these. Home would need to reevaluate their understanding of Planet Earth.
If the biped lifeforms, who sent the radio message, were the dominant specifies on this planet; where in the hierarchy of Earth, did these lifeforms, which so nearly killed the Creature, exist? Where there more dangerous lifeforms, than those just encountered and fought? The Creature pondered this question, swaying and struggling to stay erect, as painfully slow it advanced towards the portal. 0.05 Earth hours, or three Earth minutes, until the portal reached full magnitude.
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M12 regained consciousness . The Thing’s paw penetrated the GPS tracking collar, puncturing through the leather exterior and wedged into a metal strip, sandwiched between the leather. The stainless-steel metal strip was designed to protect M12 from the multitude of snares which trappers placed in the remote wilderness. Now, the foresight of the Wildlife and Fisheries Rangers, had saved the young Alphas life from a more extraterrestrial threat as the Thing’s spur had become wedged on the strip failing to penetrate M12’s neck instead the blow had only knocked him senseless for a few moments.
As the Thing trailed him across the forest floor, M12 could see the silver colored sister, dragged along beside him. Coming fully awake, he realized the Thing must be still alive. The fight with this Thing unfinished. M12’s stupor receded; replaced with the now familiar aggressive anger. Beyond the Thing, he could make out a shimmering blackness. M12 did not understand what the blackness might be, only that it felt wrong; not forest. With a concentrated effort, he rolled his body into the Thing, providing some relaxation from the pull of the spur. With the tension of the spur relieved, he managed to regain his feet. Summoning the last vestiges of his strength he launched himself into the attack. Teeth clamped down on the restraining limb with the last of his strength, taking three bites, to sever the last paw. Once, twice. Three times finally severing the Things paw. Free, he bolted to the limbs wrapped around the sister attacking them in an all-out frenzy. One by one, M12 bit through them, while the Things limbs flailed weakly and ineffectively upon the thick fur of his back.
The Thing appeared close to death. M12 sensed a final weakness, lacking the strength to bring the Thing to the ground. Instead, he collapsed upon the body of the silver sister and could do nothing more, watching as it slowly advanced upon the wide circle of flickering blackness.
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The Creature left the two lifeforms sprawled exhausted on the ground concentrating whatever meager energy remained into reaching its. The portal.
Once Home, the Creature would recount the discovery of the belligerent lifeforms encountered on its reconnaissance mission. It would recommend a detached aerial assault on the planet’s population, from portals opened in space above the planet. The radio message had portrayed a population of friendly, non-aggressive lifeforms, eager to reach out to other life. The Creature now understood the content of the message to be false; in reality, many lifeforms on the planet Earth were aggressive. A land invasion may encounter similar resistance to its own reconnaissance mission and end in failure.
The Creature was within a centimeter of the portal and completion of its mission. Its two remaining visual sensors showed the two prone lifeforms behind it and the shimmering periphery of the portal ahead of it. Without warning the view of ahead radically changed as the portal disappeared to be replaced with the twinkling stars of the Alaskan night sky.
The Creature had a brief second to attempt to understand what was happening before it ceased thinking forever.
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The grizzly bear’s last meal had been four days ago. It tried to manage hunger through sleep and had succeeded in part until an alien screaming sound had ripped it from its slumber. The empty ache in its belly reminding it of its hunger so it set off to investigate the sound. Perhaps, the four legs had brought down something big. Something big that now screamed in pain. Something to sate his own hunger for he was bigger than the four legs and was willing to fight them for food.
He quickly reached the clearing and the sight before him brought him to an abrupt halt. The crumpled bodies of Four Legs lay everywhere. Confronted by so many dead Four Legs, a deeply ingrained survival instinct nearly made the bear bolt for safety. However, the fear vanished, when the bear focused on the Thing, moving towards a strange twinkling black shape, hanging in the forest air.
The same primeval instinct which had triggered the intense aggressiveness of the wolves, elicited the same belligerence and ferociousness from the bear. The bear charged. Loping over the scattered bodies of dead Four Legs. Reaching the Thing in seconds. With a weight of over 1500lbs, the bear hit the Thing with the impact of a wrecking ball. As the Thing tumbled to the forest floor, the bear brought down a massive forepaw with all its might, six-inch razor sharp claws severing, what the bear assumed to be the Things head. The bear turned its attention to focus on the shimmering black hole. A sound akin to that made by the thousands of tiny winged insects which worked so hard to produce the sweet soft food the bear craved so much assailed his ears beckoning him forward with its rich promise. Rearing up on its hind legs, the bears head towered a full eight feet above the ground,
the bear roared defiantly into the all-consuming blackness of the portal. With a backward glance at the two Four Legs lying side by side on the forest floor he stormed into the blackness, slashing left and right with colossal claws leaving Earth forever.
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M12 watched the big brown animal with teeth and claws, knock the Thing to the forest floor, kill it with one blow from its massive paw. He had registered the fear mingled with hate and anger in the bear’s eyes as its victory roar assailed his ears, before the bear rushed into the blackness. After a few seconds, the strange spitting sound ceased, the circle of blackness disappearing. Silence filled the void and the forest became just the forest again.
Tenderly getting to his feet, M12 examined the sliver sister, lying still on the forest floor, seeing her chest moving and knowing she was still alive. He began licking around her muzzle, in an attempt to bring her back from unconsciousness. Her eyes flickered open, looking into his own. There gaze met, eyes communicating a meaning beyond their ability to pass vocally. M12 gently nudged his sister as she struggled to her feet.
His sister seen too M12’s attention turned to himself. Something sharp was scratching at his neck every time he moved his head. Sitting back on his haunches he kicked at the irritation with his back paw however, it refused to budge. Back on her feet his sister noticed his struggle. Padding over to him she let out a low growl as her eyes lit on the cause. Jutting out of her brother’s collar was a piece of the Things paw. Clamping her teeth around it she shook her head violently from side to side her head filled with the memory of the monster that they had so recently fought.
In an attempt to aid his sister, M12 braced his hind legs and pulled backwards for all he was worth. With a sudden jolt the entire collar came away complete with the Things paw still imbedded in the metal strip falling to the leafy ground.
M12 limped to the dead Thing, lying a length of three wolves away. Sniffing around the severed head, he confirmed the Thing to be at last dead. Lifting his rear left leg; M12 urinated long and hard, marking his territory. Other wolves would find this Thing and know the new Alpha male of the McCarthy Pack claimed its death. M12 looked across to where his new Alpha female stood. Together they would begin a new pack. Slowly, he picked his way through his fallen brothers and sister until he halted by his brother’s inert form. Bowing his head he gently licked his dead face before raising his head to the cold Alaskan night sky and releasing a despairing howl. His sister picked up on his howl which echoed along the valley walls. In the distance a wolf from another pack joined in. Then another, and another until it seemed the entire forest was filled with the sound of wolves honoring a fallen leader. “The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack”.
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2038
Fifty-nine years after its transmission the Interstellar radio message from the Arecibo radio telescope in Puerto Rico, reached the Dorado Constellation. Around the dwarf star Gliese 163, three planets orbited sedately within the stars habitable zone. One of these planets, named by Earth’s astronomers as Gliese 163c, held sentient life. Life advanced enough to have evolved a civilization capable of intercepting and translating humanity’s primitive transmission. The inhabitants of this world discussing the information contained in the message at length for contact and communication between different worlds, especially such a primitive one as this Earth appeared to be, was not an enterprise embarked upon without thoughtful consideration of the possible wider impacts. After six solar years, they decided upon their response. This Earth planet and its human inhabitants were not ready to make first contact yet. The message was filed away with a note to open it again in five millennia.
- THE END -
About Mickey Ferron
When not writing Science Fiction, Mickey Ferron pays his bills working as an Aeronautical Engineer. For over thirty years, he has been traveling the globe, working with all the major Aerospace companies. His only career regret is not being part of the current Space X program to Mars, but he would consider it, should Elon Musk ever contact him with a job offer.
His lifelong love of Sci-Fi began as a child, reading pulp comics such as ‘Out of this World’, ‘Uncanny Tales’ and ‘Astounding Stories’. He still maintains a respectable comic collection (if that’s not an oxymoron) of these old treasures. From comics he graduated to the Sci-Fi classics; H.G. Wells’ masterpieces, The Time Machine and The War of the Worlds. For his tenth birthday, his father gave him a battered copy of Arthur Conan Doyle’s’ 1912 The Lost World, he has it still. It shares bookshelf space with other prized possessions; sandwiched between Jack Finney’s 1954 Invasion of the Body Snatchers and John Campbell’s 1938 Who Goes There, (brought to the silver screen as The Thing) These three books alone inspired a passion of shape-shifting aliens, space adventure, time travel and dinosaurs, into adulthood.
When not troubleshooting around the world, he likes nothing better than clashing plausible, conceivable science with believable fictional stories. He fervently believes in the existence of alien life in other worlds, time travel, alternative realities and different dimensions, we just haven’t discovered them yet.
Mickey is a ‘self-taught’ Jedi Knight, sworn only to use his powers for good. He resides Ireland, as he awaits the call from the Rebel Alliance. He shares his life with his wonderful wife, two fantastic children and a dog that someone needs to have a serious conversation with, informing him, that he isn’t human.
Drop Mickey a line on anything Sci-Fi.
Connect with Mickey here:
www.castrumpress.com/authors/mickey-ferron
And The Light Faded
By Lisa Fox
Rosa Santos focused on the road ahead as she ran. Her feet ached, pounding heavy on the cracked pavement, her strides as labored as her breathing in the icy air. She ignored the clouds of dust billowing through the woods around her and the trees swaying in violent protest against the advancing swarm.
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Rosa had looked forward to ringing in the new year quietly - Netflix, popcorn, and a warm blanket. She clicked on the television; it painted her living room in a soft glow. The light cast shadows in the empty corner; dust collected in the space where her Christmas tree usually stood. It flitted over a mantle devoid of decoration – not a card, a holiday stocking, nor a candy cane hung from the fireplace. She hadn’t seen the point of displaying her Nativity scene, either. Baby Jesus still lay sleeping in a cardboard box stacked at the top of her closet.
This year, Santa Claus was not a symbol of giving; he was a reminder of all that had been taken from her.
Rosa hadn’t felt like celebrating – she wanted it to be over.
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An Earth-shaking BOOM had jolted Rosa awake. It sent the popcorn bowl skittering off the coffee table and a photo frame crashing from the wall to the floor, the faces in the photograph distorted by the broken glass. A siren screeched outside, piercing through the flash of heat and gooseflesh that washed over her body. Rosa leapt from the couch and ran toward the window.
Graffiti covering the walls of the bodega across from her apartment glowed a sickly green. An odd radiance painted the sky, it was as if midnight were dueling with dawn. She turned away as the floor rumbled beneath her and cracked. Through a massive fissure, the face of her downstairs neighbor stared up at her.
Rosa grabbed her coat and raced outside, greeted by a street full of stunned neighbors staring at the sky. The invaders descended like giant hailstones; the hulking multi-legged creatures crashed down with such fury, Rosa felt as if the Earth had been knocked from its orbit.
2023 arrived not with bursts of confetti or popping champagne corks, but with a firestorm from space. The aliens invaded just as the Times Square Ball began to drop. The world counted down its final moments, and a thousand fireworks exploded simultaneously in a grand finale gone horribly wrong.
And there was nothing to do but run. Or die.
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Three days had passed since New Year’s E
ve.
Rosa needed rest and shelter, and her options were limited. Few structures remained intact after the onslaught. When the aliens swarmed, they devoured everything in their path, like cockroaches on stray crumbs.
She pushed forward, her focus on breathing and moving one foot in front of the other. Through eyes blurred by tears and lack of sleep, she thought she saw a crumbling mansion in her sight line. It must be a mirage, she thought, or maybe I’m desperate. Le Château was the place to see and be seen; a threshold she had never expected to cross, unless it was through the service entrance.
Or unless it was the end of the world, Rosa thought.
Though a section of the outer wall had collapsed, and a massive hole was blown through the roof, the building still stood. Like the few survivors she’d encountered once the sirens had stopped, it too was crooked and broken.
Rosa’s legs quivered as she approached the fractured marble steps. She leapt over a body splayed between the blown-out double doors. His tuxedo was soaked in blood, his face twisted in the scowl of a man surprised by his own death. Taking two steps at a time, she raced into the building.
Shards of glass from a broken chandelier shimmered across a cracked floor strewn with tattered paintings, chunks of brick, and abandoned personal effects– high-end handbags, shattered cell phones, the keys to luxury cars mashed like tin cans in the parking lot. A tremor sent Rosa tumbling into the rubble. She landed with her cheek pressed against the face of a dead woman, fresh blood oozing from beneath perfectly coiffed hair.