Umlaut's Stories

Get Me Out of this Nut House!

2007-04-18T21:59:30Z

My train wreck of thought was interrupted by the sudden silence that seemed to engulf the car. Then, a sound of powerful foot steps slowly approaching the car. I slowly turned my head so as to see the source.

From behind a tree came a vision of squirrelhood the likes of which no human has ever seen, or at least has never reported. I stared in awe as it slowly approached the car.

I can only describe this new player as a cross between squirrel and demigod—Hercules definitely comes to mind. Walking upright, “Herc” barely topped a foot in height. His build, though, made up for any vertical challenge. Muscles that any body builder would envy engulfed his tiny body, rippling under his fur as he moved.

Herc walked up to the window, stopped, and stared at my wife for a moment.

“Atrian,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

I turned and saw my wife staring fondly at Herc, as if she was seeing a long-lost friend.

“Darling,” she quietly, “it’s been a while.”

Squirrel

2007-04-07T22:14:29Z

On side of road:

Wait for it…Wait for it…go, go, go!

Stop, stop, stop! Big, noisy thing coming.

Run up tree. Flick, flick flick.

Run up to edge. Wait for it…Wait for it…go, go, go!

Stop, stop, stop! Big, noisy thing coming.

Run up tree. Flick, flick flick.

Chicken said I could do this. He said it was easy.

Stupid chicken….

Inside car:

“Look darling, that poor squirrel is trying to cross the road,” the wife said with some pity. “This road is so busy!”

“Well, I hope he has better luck then that chicken.” replied the husband.

Trainee

2007-03-30T01:28:13Z

Servos whined as I lifted my left arm against the weight of the rubble that pinned it to the ground. The red warning lights of my helmet display indicated how unhappy my exosuit was, but at this point I really didn’t care. If I didn’t get out from under this pile, I would soon be crushed under the tracks of the approaching cybertank.

My arm was almost in position when I started to smell the distinct odor of overheated power cable while the red lights started to multiply like rabbits in spring. Just as I thought that my suit’s power supply would blow, my arm reached the angle I wanted. Not wanting to tempt fate any further, I fired the arms built-in blaster directly into the center of the debris pile. It was only after I pulled the trigger that I realized that I had set the blaster to its highest setting.

The blaster’s beam vaporized the debris pile, but didn’t stop there. It also dug a five foot wide trench before cutting a hole completely through the tank.

I think I failed Marine boot camp, again.

ThroG - Corridor

2007-03-29T22:23:34Z

“Somehow, someway, I need to get off this ship,” I mutter to myself as I head off down a dark corridor.

The MPU tracker is feeding information into my heads-up display. The HUD shows that I am the only living thing within twenty metres of my position, but I know that information is iffy at best. All I can do is keep moving.

Time for another heart-to-heart with the MPU .

“Mission time: 1230 hours Zulu. I am proceeding aft towards the docking bay and the drop ship. No sign of my unit nor of the ThroGs that infest the ship…”

I spoke too soon.

In the corridor ahead of me are the bodies of my unit, each one showing definite signs of a hand-to-hand battle with one or more ThroGs. The damage to each body was definitely inflicted by a ThroG weapon.

In the hope that one or more were still alive, I survey the scene in infrared mode. Yep, one of the bodies, Sarge, is still hot. As I look down at him, he opens his eyes and tries to speak: “They have her,” he whispers. “They have the Princess…”

ThroG

2007-03-29T20:22:35Z

“Mission time: eleven hundred hours Zulu. SitRep: things are pretty bad and probably will get a lot worse,” I said into the MultiPad Unit, knowing that the chances of it or I making it out of this situation alive were slim to none.

“I have been separated from the rest of my unit for over five hours and have had no luck in contacting any of them,” I continued. “I have to assume that they are all dead.”

I shut the MPU down and started to shake, violently. Too many stimulants combined with the realization that I was the only human left aboard this freighter triggered a mini-breakdown. The fact that I was sharing this freighter with about a dozen ThroGs didn’t help matters any.

I suddenly awoke, in the dark, only the blue glow of the MPU to keep me company. According to the MPU ’s chronometer, I had been out for about an hour. I did a quick scan of the area and found no sign of either ThroG (good!) or human (bad,) so I decided that now was as good as time as any to get off my dead butt and get moving.

Photasm

2007-03-23T03:04:47Z

Daylight streams in past your eyelids as you slowly awaken.

You feel warmth on your face, the warmth of a summer day.

Slowly, as you regain conciousness, your nose is filled with the wonderful scent of a thousand wild flowers.

You open your eyes. You are on a hill which overlooks a small village. As you regain your senses you begin to hear a faint sound, as if from far away.

Yes, yes, the sound is coming from the town. You realize that the sound you hear is screaming; the people in the town are screaming.

You strain to see what is happening. You eyes clear and you finally see the horror that has engulfed the town. The horror that is making its way toward you. A horror so unspeakable that it chokes-off your screams before they can leave your throat. All you can do is stare. silently, as it moves toward you.

SPOT

2007-03-22T12:09:25Z

20 July 2023 – The glowing area that recently appeared in the middle of my room is still there, unchanged and unmoving. The glow is still a dark violet in color (I can barely see it, while Char, my girlfriend, says it is bright to her.) With Char’s help, I have used chairs and rope to mark-out its circumference.

21 July 2023 – I have made an important discovery regarding the glowing spot, which I now call SPOT , in the middle of my room: things thrown into it disappear. Actually, it was Joey who made the discovery when he tripped coming into my room and spilled a bowl of popcorn all over the place. The pieces of popcorn that went into SPOT didn’t make it to the floor on the other side. Joey spent three hours throwing things into SPOT just to make sure. I had to stop him when he grabbed my hamster, Sam.

22 July 2023 – Stuff has started coming out of SPOT —weird rocks and stuff. One of the rocks, a flat one, has weird markings on it, like writing. Joey wants to send Sam in to do recon. Char is scared

Monument - Continued

2007-03-21T02:20:02Z

Quickly, the nanomachines spread across the tortured lanscape. Those that fell on rock began to transform the minerals into soil, while others were carried aloft where they started to transform the air itself. Thus the process of terraforming the tortured planet began.

While their brethren started the task of changing the environment, the nanomachines that fell into the warm liquid began the task of bioformation. Following instructions that were as old as time, the nanomachines create the precursors to life, as they had done on countless worlds before. Perhaps, this time, they would be sucessful.

Millenia pass and the planet becomes filled with life which evolves following the plan laid down by the ancient nanomachines, which now number in the trillions.

Soon, one species rises to dominance, gains sentience, and starts to develop a society. As if on cue, the nanomachines disappear, their jobs finished. No trace of the nanomachines, the object, or the visitor remain—at least that was the plan.

Monument

2007-03-20T01:00:07Z

Primordial ooze stretches as far as the eye can see.

Lightning flashes fill the angry sky as distant volcanoes spew ash and lava.

Through a break in the dark clouds, atop an impossibly bright shaft of flame, a metal shape descends to land atop a flat-topped rock outcropping.

The metal shape, a spaceship, sits quietly, slowly cooling from its transit through the roiling atmosphere. Suddenly, an opening appears in the side of the ship and a ladder extends to the scorched rock.

After a moment, a figure, clad in metal, appears in the doorway and surveys the forboding landscape.

The figure slowly descends the ladder and, after what seems an eternity, stands on the rocky surface.

Slowly, as if unsure of how to move, the space traveler walks to the edge of the outcropping and removes an object from its suit, which it places, almost reverently, on the hard surface of the outcropping.

Moments later, the space traveler and its ship are gone, only the object remains, alone on the rocky outcropping.

Nados

2007-03-18T16:26:26Z

You squint through the inch-thick Perspex, as if you think you can see more then your instruments. Ahead is Tor863, one of the dozen permanent tornados-~~nados~~- that formed in Nevada during the outbreak of 2018. Like its kin, Tor863 was immense, almost twenty miles across at touchpoint, with eyewall speeds in excess of 300 mph. Unlike its kin, Tor863 had started to move and it’s your job to find out why. With a deep sigh, you stop looking through the scratched viewport, start the recorders, and put the crawler into gear. You pause for a moment, then you start the crawler down the path to the base of the nado.

Control

2007-03-18T16:12:16Z

“Come in, Bellerophon, this is control, Do you read me? Over,” Mission Specialist Sato says into the microphone. The only reply he gets is static.

“Where the heck is she?” he asks no one in particular.

“She’s probably so engrossed in some find that she doesn’t hear you,” replies Mission Specialist Tagnot.

“What? Oh, yeah, you are probably right. I’ll give her another ten minutes before sending out the cavalry,” says, MS Sata, as if trying to convince himself that there is nothing wrong.

“Just to make you feel better, I’ll give outpost six a call to see if she was OK at her last refueling,” replies MS Tagnot as he picks up the phone and calls the outpost: “Outpost? This is MS Tagnot in control. Can you give me a SitRep on Crawler Bellerophone? Yes… I see.. Thank you, we will take it from here.”

MS Tagnot hangs up the phone and turns to his co-worker.

“The outpost was about to call us. Bellerophone never showed up, and by there estimates, she may not have enough energy to make it to dawn.”

Crawler

2007-03-16T01:42:16Z

Ah, morning! Another beautiful day is dawning on the Methane Plain! But wait, there is something amiss, something awry, something not quite right! There is something laying on top of your rear leg-segment, and whatever it is, its starting to move!

You call out to your companions:

“Trendal, Calton, Morbius” you cry out, “Help me, there is something here.”

But wait, your friends are not here. You are alone with whatever it is! So, in fear and with more then a little trepidation, you silently wait for it to make the next move.

Sunrise

2007-03-15T23:51:26Z

As you crawled slowly across the plain of frozen methane, you berate yourself one more time for not recharging at the last outpost. Now, your reserves are down to fumes and the next outpost is way past your limit. Death is singing a tune that is getting considerably louder.

You realize that the only chance you have is sunrise: beautiful, wonderful sunrise. Even here, on this lonely moon, there is enough sunlight for your solar cells to convert to energy, energy that can keep your positronic brain running for another day. The big question is: will the sun rise in time, or are you destined for the scrap heap? Damn! Why didn’t you recharge when you had a chance.

You start shutting down essential systems—the non-essentials were shut down hours ago. You feel consciousness leaving as the cold of space grips you. You rail against the cold with your last dying electronic breath. Then you feel it, the warmth of sun on your solar cells as it rises over the horizon. You have cheated death for another day.