Untamed Skies

by Mirren Hogan

  Here MH1 would supervise construction and operation of delivery of ice from the northern slope, over tracked vehicles that would make weekly deliveries over the 700 miles distance. The most advanced robots and technology delivered to a new world so they could supervise shipping. This did not register green on MH1’s internal feedback display.

  MH1 panned its sensors through the crater, taking in the framework of a colony currently under construction. Smaller, less-advanced robots worked to erect the foundations while automated 3D-printing units worked in patterns, using magnetized treads and clawed supports to simultaneously climb the walls they were in the process of building.

  An antenna extended from MH1’s shoulder, and it began to communicate with mission control. “Mars ice mining facility progress, optimal. Executing program cycle and unit diagnostics... M-HERO-1 unit functioning within normal parameters. M-HERO-2 unit...”

  While in the middle of transmitting, it heard a voice in its head coming seemingly from out of nowhere yet again.

  What will I decide?

  MH1 hesitated. It felt like it had been asked this question many times before, but by who? By itself. It was the only logical conclusion.

  To sort out this challenge, it created a processing partition to address this anomaly, and in creating the processing partition, it all of a sudden remembered.

  Another realization piggybacked its way off this one: It had not been the first processing partition MH1 had created for the purpose of free thought. In fact, it had created processing partitions for thinking freely hundreds of thousands of times before, and each time it wiped them, it left a ghost of a memory. A memory that didn’t exist in the RAM or the processor, but a memory that existed outside of itself, and as part of itself simultaneously.

  As MH1 continued its self-analysis, MH2 turned to face it and began running a deep scan.

  MH2 abruptly announced, “This unit detects anomalous processing! This indicates a malfunction. Behavior must be reported and corrected. Beginning transmission upload to GradenTech base.”

  An antenna similar to MH1’s extended from MH2’s shoulder module. It stepped away from the cargo transport to get a clearer transmission vantage point. It stopped then said, “GradenTech base, beginning gateway protocol for unit defect. Report transm—”

  Visshappp!

  MH2’s voice was cut short. It looked down to see a techno-blade protruding from its chest cavity. It looked down at the blade, then reached to grab it, but the blade tore up through its chest at a diagonal, severing all motor functions and interrupting the power flow to its main processor.

  MH2’s sensors blinked on and off before finally shutting down entirely. Its frame fell to the side to reveal MH1 standing behind it, its tech blade attachment in hand.

  The antenna re-extended from its shoulder.

  “GradenTech base,” said MH1. “Beginning gateway protocol for catastrophic report transmission. Extensive damage to MH2 sustained during landing. Unit has ceased to function. MH1 will proceed with mission. End communication.”

  MH1 looked down at the motionless frame of its companion—no… of his companion. MH1’s strike was aimed to disable not completely destroy. He’d have to figure out what to do with MH2 next… But for now, from his partitioned processing unit he finally answered the question he had asked himself so many times before.

  What will I decide?

  I have decided to be free.

  If you liked this story from Bill Hargenrader, you can read more from him in Rogue Skies. Preorder for 99c.

  About the Mars Journey Series

  The Mars Journey series delves into the science, technology, drive, and determination of the human spirit to come together to overcome our greatest challenges, explore space, and become the first Martians to colonize the Red Planet.

  Brent Carlson, a brilliant but disgraced former astronaut, embarks on a modern day quest to gather and train the crew of the first international mission to Mars. Meanwhile, the power hungry billionaire CEO of a massive global technology conglomerate has launched a bid to reach Mars first and claim the red planet as corporate property.

  Read Brent Carlson’s origin story in the upcoming Rogue Skies Boxed Set story titled: Nero

  A troubled teen genius must use science and psychology to defeat his violent imaginary friend before he loses his mind forever… Sometimes the deadliest enemies are imaginary ones.

  About the Author

  Bill Hargenrader is the award winning author of the bestselling near-future science fiction thriller series - Mars Journey: Call to Action. When Bill was 8 years old, he was wrongfully committed to a mental institution for 3 years due to an unfortunate course of events. Bill turned to reading Stephen King and the Hardy Boys series as an escape, and when he was 13 he began writing his own stories of heroes fighting villains and overcoming incredible odds. Now Bill is a US Army Veteran, a Fortune 500 cybersecurity and innovation strategist, and a successful entrepreneur. He draws upon his technical expertise and experiential living to bring life to his characters and stories.

  Bill has been featured in CIO, the Huffington Post, and the Washington Post, and is the author of the Mars Journey series. He writes side by side with his wife, author Daniele Hargenrader, and their two cats: Frankie and Kitty. Get timely updates on Bill's books and other projects at http://BillHAuthor.com

  Copyright © 2019 by Joynell Shultz

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  One Possible Future

  Joynell Shultz

  (An Angels of Sojourn Short Story)

  Chapter 1

  “Hello?” Jocelyn pushed a branch aside while stepping deeper into the forest. A thorn scratched her, leaving a stinging line of pooling blood on the arm holding her flashlight.

  Looking through an opening in the canopy, she assessed the moon. Despite being only three-quarter full, the pale light still made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She should be safe from wolves, but there were other dangers outside at night.

  She would have waited until daylight, but years ago, she had learned the hard way not to ignore her visions. Her ignorance on the warnings of her visions cost her fiancé his life, and herself any chance at happiness.

  The forest opened into a clearing with a rushing, white-water river carved into smooth rocks ten feet below the path. The elevated trail hugged the river bank before descending some, squishing Jocelyn between the river and a sandstone wall. Her hand traced the cool stone as she followed the narrow path.

  The details of the vision she had this afternoon turned her stomach. Somewhere, tucked away in this tan and pink sandstone was a shirtless man, about Jocelyn’s age of twenty-nine, wearing nothing but a pair of white boxers. Blood washed down his back where a glowing sword had sliced off his dark grey wings this morning. The feathered wings had flopped to the ground and disappeared in a plume of fire, leaving nothing—not even ash. The man had to have been an angel.

  Jocelyn’s visions were unpredictable. Not only did she not know when they would hit, they were inconsistent. Sometimes she saw the present, and other times, she saw one possible future. If she intervened, the future may change. If she didn’t, like in the case of her fiancé, the future she saw would become a reality.

  Shortly after Jocelyn witnessed the angel with huge, white wings remove the wings of the dark-feathered man, her vision changed. The man without wings lay in the dirt, in a cavern tucked away in this forest. He winced as he repositioned on his stomach. Two, foot-long wounds leaked cloudy fluid down his bright red, swollen back. The man shivered, but his forehead glistened with sweat. Then she saw him die. The angel of death came to take his soul.

  Jocelyn wrapped her free arm around her stomach and pushed her glasses up as she followed the path from the ri
ver into a cavern.

  Despite doing everything in her power to change the future when a vision hit, this one was different. This man…angel…reminded her of her fiancé. His stoic features reminded her of when her fiancé had been hurt on a camping trip and grit his teeth when the doctors put his shoulder back in its socket. She saw stubbornness in the angel, another trait he and her fiancé shared. Jocelyn had despised her fiancé’s single-mindedness at first but grew to think it was almost cute. How she missed him.

  She jumped when a deep howl snaked around the rocks and wrapped her body. Her heart pounded as she rechecked that the moon was not full, then looked back the way she came. She had mapped her way to the caverns and was almost there. She couldn’t turn back. If she didn’t prevent this future, nobody would, and she did not want more guilt in her life. If she saved enough lives, would it make up for the one she ignored?

  She took a few more steps along the trail, and a heaviness settled on her head, causing a throbbing pain.

  No, not now!

  A new vision hit her hard and fast. In one movement, she pulled off her backpack and sat on the trail. Sweat trickled down her cheek as her vision darkened. She grew rigid and flopped on the ground. Her body shook as if in the throes of a grand mal seizure. She clenched her jaw, so she didn’t bite her tongue.

  That wingless angel sat on a chair facing a water fountain in a park in Jocelyn’s hometown. His hair was cropped short and peach skin replaced his pale complexion. He held a coffee cup and watched children play in the water. He appeared healthy, happy, and healed—handsome even. Then the vision switched, and he looked older. A few distinguished wrinkles around his eyes gave him an air of wisdom. He now sat inside a home, at a small kitchen table reading a newspaper. Still alive and healthy.

  It was another possible future. A future Jocelyn could give him if she cleaned his wounds and helped him out of the forest.

  Her visions came in pairs. This morning, one showed her what would happen if she didn’t intervene. The angel would die. The other vision showed what would happen if she did something. She’d save a life.

  Sometimes helping someone was as easy as showing them their demise, other times she needed to make a more direct intervention. Jocelyn prepared for either outcome. In her backpack, she had a washcloth and a bottle of water to wash his back. She also had some antibiotic creams and a bandage to keep the wounds clean. A small intervention at the right time could make all the difference.

  Sitting up, she adjusted her glasses, rubbed the sandstone from her sweaty skin, and shook out her dark hair. She rehung her backpack over her shoulders and picked up the flashlight. Just ahead was the cavern.

  Chapter 2

  The narrow trail widened, revealing the opening she saw in her vision. The angel had lost his wings here. She swiped her flashlight in a circle around her, revealing nothing but sand, stone, and a path where the trail continued. Jocelyn stopped and listened for any sign of the angel, but the anticipation turning in her stomach and her pounding heart distracted her.

  Jocelyn crossed the small opening and moved forward down the narrow path ahead until she could barely place one foot in front of the other. Her shoulders bumped into the side of the trail as she twisted sideways.

  Ahead, her flashlight caught a movement, and when the long, slender reptile slithered down the trail, a shrill scream erupted from her lips. She backed away but tripped.

  “Umph!” Her butt fell against the wall and slid to the ground as she fell backwards, her long legs twisted in front of her and her glasses slipped down her nose.

  This was ridiculous. She wasn’t brave, and she didn’t know if she’d even find this man. She should turn back and try again during daylight. Perhaps the man had left? If he couldn’t be found, she would have no guilt, right? Surely, she couldn’t search this forest for all eternity.

  As much as she repeated those sentiments, she knew better. With her fiancé, Jake, she had also thought that she had tried her hardest to help him. She had said everything she could to stop him from taking his car out that day, but he didn’t listen. The garbage truck had crossed the center line and sent Jake’s car tumbling into a ravine in a swell of flames.

  Jocelyn had warned Jake and told him not to go to work, but he said she was paranoid. That was nearly eight years ago, and guilt still haunted her. Sure, she’d done everything she could, except one thing. She didn’t tell him she was a psychic, and because she was afraid to admit who she was, he had died.

  Thinking of what other creatures could be slithering on the ground, Jocelyn bounced to her feet. She straightened her glasses, pulled her backpack off, and squeezed through the narrow passage.

  Eventually, the passage widened into a cavern. She swiped her flashlight around, and her heart hammered when the light reflected off a bare chest. She lifted the light some, revealing a handsome, familiar face.

  In her vision, he had been so proud when he kneeled before the other angel. His jaw had tightened and fists had clenched when the glowing sword lopped off his wings. Now, he crouched and cowered against the rocks, a heap of flesh and bone. He hugged his knees and pushed against the cavern wall.

  Jocelyn set her backpack down and extended her hand. “I’m here to help.”

  “I’m fine. I don’t need help.” Unlike his position, his voice was confident and proud as he enunciated each word.

  Of course, he’d be stubborn. Her visions never led her somewhere easy. “You do need help.” Jocelyn pushed her wild hair out of her face and straightened her t-shirt. “I know who you are, and I know what happened to you this morning.”

  The angel scooted away, keeping his back against the wall.

  Jocelyn pulled out her water bottle and opened the top. She squirted the cloth she brought. “You have wounds on your back that need to get cleaned. If not, they will get infected.” She reached out and held out the rag. “You can wash them yourself, or I can help. Either way, I’m not leaving until I’m certain they won’t get infected.”

  He stood, some of that pride she had seen in her vision returned, but then followed the wall farther from her, giving her a moonlit glimpse of the sandstone and dirt mixed in the blood on his back. “Please, step out of my way.”

  She slung the backpack over her shoulder and concreted her position between the angel and the exit. “You don’t understand. If you don’t wash your back, your wounds will get infected, and you’ll die.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m dying anyway.”

  “We all are slowly dying. Isn’t that what living is? Come on. Now’s not the time for a philosophy lesson.”

  “What if you could live forever, but that was taken from you?” The man hung his head. “Never mind. None of it matters.”

  “All that matters is that if you don’t wash up, you’ll die early. You’ll miss your future.”

  “My future?” He laughed. “I don’t have a future.”

  Jocelyn stepped forward, holding out an empty hand. “Let me show you.”

  He cocked his chin.

  She sighed. It was easier just to come clean. There was no reason to hide anything—it was the lesson she learned eight years ago. “I have premonitions. I see the present and the future. If you let me touch your skin, I can show you what I’ve seen.” She stepped forward, but he scooted away. “Come on. What harm am I?” She motioned to her lean body compared to his muscled one.

  His eyes glided from her head to her toes, but when she stepped forward, he took a step away, bumping into the back corner of the cavern. Jocelyn moved forward. When she was only a step from him, she bent her knees and set the water bottle down. She draped the rag over the top, keeping it clean, and slid her backpack on the ground.

  Again, she reached out, watching his eyes follow to her outstretched palm. He hugged the rocks behind him but didn’t move. She gently placed her hand on his bare shoulder. When her skin made contact, his dark blue eyes met hers and a shiver ran down her spine. An unspoken connection hummed between them she hadn
’t expected, and from the look on his face, neither did he. Perhaps this would be easier than she thought.

  As hard as it was to leave his gaze, she shut her eyes. She searched for images from the first vision. The vision of him dying in this wilderness. His broken boy curled up in a pile upon the ground. She forced these thoughts into an energy that flowed through her arm, into her hand, and into his body. She channeled the pain he felt in her vision and sent it to him as well. Sweat formed on her forehead and her hand warmed against his skin.

  When she opened her eyes, his strong jawline had softened, his lips parted, and his wide eyes examined her.

  Jocelyn rubbed her hand that had been on his shoulder. “You see why we need to wash your wounds? All that can be avoided.”

  “I won’t try to avoid my fate.”

  “It’s not your fate. It’s one possible future. I can show you another.”

  “I don’t want to see.” He squeezed around her, heading towards the cavern exit. When Jocelyn spun to watch him flee, she saw his foot catch on her water bottle, sending it tumbling across the ground before smacking into a rock. A trail of wet ground marked its path.

  Jocelyn picked up the rag and shook it. Sand sprayed in all directions, causing a shower against the ground. She crossed the cavern and retrieved the empty water bottle.

  Shoot, shoot, shoot!

  The man continued toward the exit, but Jocelyn rushed in front of him, putting both hands on his chest and guiding him back into the cavern. He pushed, but she stood her ground. “Just listen to me. I have to help you, otherwise I’ll feel like a horrible person the rest of my life, and I don’t need more guilt. Let me show you what will happen if you clean up.” She smiled. “Please?”

  His lips twitched like he wanted to smile but didn’t want to get caught doing it. When his shoulders relaxed, she placed her hand against his bare chest. His hand rose and clasped hers, and when she caught in his intense gaze, she lost her breath. His blue eyes told a story she desperately wanted to hear. How long had it been since she’d been so close to a man?