Science Fiction – Page 7 – The Creative Chronicles of Dave Stancliff

A Plan Of Disarray Kept The Martians Away

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Listen to this story as narrated by master story teller Otis Jiry.

2088 Earth

Day 19 of the Martian invasion

Major Eric Hammer is passing out weapons to the survivors of the New York City massacre.

That’s what it was.

The Martians agreed to parley with the current American leader, former Speaker-of-the-House, Josh Angler, at Times Square. His predecessors were all killed during the first wave of the invasion.

The Martian Warlord, Nin-el Throth, who was in charge of the invasion fleet, stood in front of his spacecraft in the middle of Times-Square, waiting for the American leader to appear.

What onlookers didn’t know was that it was a hologram of the infamous warlord, and the spacecraft was really a remote-controlled bomb. When Josh Angler appeared the bomb blew up!

In that moment, eighty percent of the inhabitants of New York were vaporized.

Major Hammer, one of the survivors, spent months searching for other survivors. He found them in cellars, and under the debris of flattened buildings – sealed in, and barely alive.

The New York Skyline no longer existed.

In the center of the gutted city a Martian Battlewagon acted as a temporary headquarters. It stood 10 stories high and looked like a metal insect with an attitude. It housed over five hundred Martian fighters.

During his time searching for other survivors, Major Hammer studied his enemies. He watched their tactics and took notes. They patrolled in groups of ten. Surprisingly, they walked, and didn’t use transportation devices.

One day he watched a lone unkown sniper shoot four Martians before their fired back and killed him. He wished he would have found that sniper before he went solo. But he learned a valuable lesson, the Martians could be killed with conventional weapons like rifles.

It took a long time to train the growing group of survivors in urban warfare. Handing a person a weapon doesn’t mean they’re going to be effective with it. That takes time and patience.

He was one of only three survivors who was trained in warfare and weapons. The other two were recruitment officers that were waiting for retirement. The civilians brought other skills that helped hold the group of 145 together.

Constant scavenger parties collected food and other supplies and delivered them to their headquarters underground. They set up living quarters in forgotten old train tunnels below the subway system.

The time finally came when Major Hammer felt his ragtag army was ready to wage guerrilla warfare against the Martians. He’d discovered an armory stocked with weapons and ammunition and supplied his fighters with everything from hand grenades to assault rifles.

Hiding in the rubble of the Empire State building, Major Hammer’s raiders waited for the first patrol to pass by. The Martians confidently walked past the rubble. All ten were instantly cut down in a hail of gunfire and grenades!

Following Major Hammer’s lead, the ten raiders raced back to headquarters and waited to see what would happen. There was no retaliation. The Martians were unable to locate their attackers.

The raiding party waited for three days, and went back out and slaughtered another patrol before they knew what hit them. They attackers faded away like ghosts. The Martian Army Commander withered under Warlord Nin-el Throth’s anger, as he shouted at him from the main monitor on the officer’s deck.

Patrols were doubled. The attacks doubled too. Morale among the Martian’s was starting to erode. What once started as routine patrols were now considered combat missions. Worse, their enemies seemed to be invisible.

They knew humans were behind the attacks even though they didn’t have one body to prove it.

After attacking the second Martian patrol in one day, Major Hammer’s men captured one of the aliens. Using the same voice language software that allowed humans to talk with Martians, and vice versa, they questioned the captive.

After being tortured, the Martian spilled the beans about a major attack that was coming the next day. The Martians were going to launch an all out attack. Apparently a scouting party located human movement underground with ground penetrating radar.

They knew the general area to look in. Major Hammer gathered all of the men and women and told them what was going to happen the next day.

“This is it!” he told them. “We’re leaving now. Gather your gear and follow me.”

It took all night for Major Hammer’s raiders to reach the Martian Battlewagon. They took up positions of concealment and waited for the sun to come up. A slight drizzle coated the fractured roads and the rubble that use to be a busy city.

The Martians exited the Battlewagon shortly after the sun tried to peek out from behind the gathering storm clouds. The entire attack force filed out in neat formations. Major Hammer’s raiders waited until they were out of sight.

This was the moment of truth. In exchange for his life, the Martian captive agreed to approach the ship and seek entry. Tense moments passed before the massive ramp came down.

At that moment, the raiders ran up it and spread out, killing Martians wherever they found them. It took an hour before they had control of the ship. They brought wooden crates of dynamite with them and set time delay charges throughout the Battlewagon.

The commander of the Martian task force was the first to realize something was wrong when he heard the massive explosion that went on for several minutes. His fear was realized when a scout he sent out reported back with the news the battlewagon was blown to pieces!

The Martian Army commander was left with one choice; set up a perimeter, and prepare to die.

As It Stands, I enjoy writing stories of humans fighting back against superior alien forces. Win some, lose some. You never know.

A Spy on a Saturn Battleship

The command center board lit up and General Adams turned on an encrypted communication device and listened closely:

“Major Mark Steel, US Army reporting

I haven’t got much time.

I’m hiding in the deep cargo level of a T722 Saturn Battleship bound for earth. I’ve been listening to bits and pieces of the deck officers conversations and it looks like this is the real McCoy…Saturn is breaking our peace treaty and have put together an invasion fleet!

I’m in the flagship Conquering Star.” Please advise. I’ll contact you again at 17:00.”

General Adams turned off the device and turned to his assistant Col. John Hedy. “Our worst fear has come true, John. Saturn is attacking us despite the peace treaty!”

Col. Hedy had cotton mouth when he asked the general what their next step was? The general knew it was time to call the president. It was up to him.

President Oliver Henderson calmly listened to General Adam then told him to prepare all of the US military forces for war. Then he called the president of Russia. Then China. Then England. Then Canada. The calls took a full day to make.

Only the Big Three countries, America, China, and Russia, had any kind of defense system against hostile aliens. It was still relatively new, and untried. The plan called for perfect coordination between the three countries for maximum defensive strength.

Earth’s defense system circled the globe scanning for targets for the massive laser arsenal to eliminate. Each country’s defense system had to be careful to change orbits so there were no collisions.

Each firing platform also carried Atomic Bombs, and Hydrogen Bombs attached to jet-drones that could be controlled from Earth’s command centers. The combined firepower of the defensive network was mankind’s only hope.

17:00

“Major Steel reporting

I heard two deck officers talking about how easy they expected this invasion to be.

I also heard one say Saturn’s Premier Warlord Sheth Zorneath is aboard this flagship. Apparently it was he who talked Saturn’s ruling Kellith-Ashur Lords into breaking the treaty.

What are your orders?”

General Adam’s deep voice was soothing and clear, “Mark we think we’re ready. What I need you to do is when the attack starts turn on your open emergency channel and wait for further instructions.

You don’t mind me calling you Mark, do you major?”

“Not at all sir.”

“Ralph. My name is Ralph. Good luck soldier.”

The attacking space armada approached earth at cruising speed. Russia’s spy satellite spotted them first and relayed the news to the others. The fighting platforms made rapid sight adjustments as the fleet got within range.

An opening salvo from six American and Chinese platforms struck two of Saturn’s Aircraft Carriers, disabling, but not destroying them. The return fire from the fleet pulverized all six attacking platforms.

The rest attempted to regroup at different coordinates. Some were able to fire all of their ordnance before being destroyed.

General Adam’s hands were shaking as he flipped on the secure communication device connecting him to Major Steel. This was it! One last chance…

“Mark…earth is doomed. They’ve knocked out our defenses. Is there anything you can do?”

“Affirmative Ralph! I’ve been scouting things out, and I’m sure I can get to the control room and sabotage this big tub. Tell my wife I love her, and we’ll meet again somewhere in eternity.”

Col. Hedy ran into General Adams office to bring the good news; “For some reason there was a star-shattering explosion and the enemies flagship was destroyed. The remaining fleet has fled.”

As It Stands, I enjoy reading and writing spy/hero stories.

Beware the Treacherous Tides of Titan

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Surfers from the Milky Way and the Andromeda Galaxy are drawn to the tides of Titan, Saturn’s largest moon, like moths.

Considered the most treacherous tides in two galaxies, it is a must ride for any surfer who had aspirations of making a name for himself (or herself) to shoot the tube on Titan’s Tides.

In a recent issue of Solar Surfers, some of the dangers were described in chilling details. For those unaware of the challenges, Titan’s oceans are full of carnivorous creatures ranging in size from an inch to four-hundred feet long.

The article, a first-hand account from a Mercurian surfer who survived a full ride, warned that lone predators, like the foot-long Teethers, wait until they see a surfer waiting a long time for a clean-up set to attack.

Decisiveness was crucial, the article emphasized.

Buzz, considered one of the three best surfers on Earth, set his copy of Solar Surfers down and checked the official drone provided by The Inter-Space Surfing Federation for validation.

Without the drone recording him it didn’t matter what he did…no one would ever know if he put on a spectacular show.

After registering his DNA with the drone he picked up his long board and walked towards the distant waves. The golden sand beneath his feet glittered beneath the blue Titan sky. A small patch of purple clouds gathered in the north.

Buzz looked up at the clouds and thought about the article he just read. It pointed out his best chances for avoiding sea creatures was during the short light cycle – a period of three hours of daylight.

He checked his waterproof wrist computer. Everything looked good. The water was pleasantly warm as he paddled out.

The waves were jacking as he rose with each swell. The hallow and intense waves grew higher as he paddled on. Then he was beyond the waves and paddling on a calm sea. The water around him shimmered with all the colors of a rainbow on Venus.

But he knew he had to make a move soon. He paddled back and forth impatiently trying to spot a clean-up set. Waves so immense they had no equal in two solar systems. Then he saw what he wanted.

The purple clouds were now overhead. Buzz wasn’t aware of that, his eyes were riveted to a spot deep behind the peak of a massive hollow wave. Man and board shot through the wave’s tube to the other side of the peak!

He was riding pigdog, clutching the board with both hands, when he made a powerful sweeping move that allowed him to establish even more speed and go in the direction he wanted. Towards the shore. The drone, faithfully recorded the heart-stopping ride.

He didn’t feel the first strike when he was waist deep in the water walking towards the shore. He grabbed his board feebly when the second, and third strike, took away the lower half of his body!

The drone meanwhile recorded Buzz’s last moments. It was programed to return in four hours to the Inter-Space Surfing Federation headquarters. When it arrived, the Director viewed the film – like so many others – and confirmed his death, time, and place.

Having to contact the family was the hardest part of the Director’s job. Surprisingly, most of the families said the same thing, “Well…he died doing what he loved the most.”

As It Stands, I was thinking of rock climbers here on earth when I wrote this piece.

Welcome to the 2320 Milky Way Olympics

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“Hello! I’m Stu Jones, and the guy sitting next to me is Jerry Rider, welcoming you to the 2320 Milky Way Olympics!”

Stu: “Well Jerry, is there one planet that stands out to you? A sure pick to dominate in these games?”

Jerry: “No. It’s too close between the big three; Earth, Mars, and Jupiter. These three planets continue to invest heavily in their athletes.”

Stu: Speaking of athletes, who are the top runners?”

Jerry: Earth is going with last year’s winner, Shaun Silverton. Mar’s has an exciting and upcoming runner in Vis Opti. Jupiter’s entry, Pah Zee, has improved his times since finishing 2nd overall in the 2316 Games.

But I got to tell you Stu, the runner to watch for is Els Xeen from Saturn. He’s got the longest legs among all the contestants. He’s new to running, but is catching on fast. This is his first Olympic appearance.”

The crowd in the enormous stadium suddenly broke out into cheers. Athletes from all the planets in the solar system solemnly walked out in colorful groups. When they had all taken up their place the crowd grew silent.

The Games Commissioner, Gart Vita from Mercury, welcomed everyone from her skybox above.

“Greetings! Peace! The Milky Way Board of Commissioners thanks you for attending and entering your greatest athletes in these time-honored Games.”

She waited patiently until the roars of applause died down.

“We must never forget that these Games bring us together as a solar system. The bonds we forge here aren’t forgotten as we communicate and trade with each other in peace. Our safety and futures depend upon the open flow of cultures and species.

Now, let the Games begin!”

Crowd roaring.

Jerry: As always, it’s good to be here.

Stu: I want to let our viewers know that there’s been a rule change in the Boxing category. Those contestants that have more than two arms, are now going to be handicapped with heavier gloves and small weights around their ankles/tentacles.

Other than that, everything remains the same.”

Jerry: Thanks Stu. I can’t wait to see the 500-pound Heavyweight Division. Is anyone every going to beat Mej Hei Mon from Neptune?

Stu: I doubt it Jerry. I think you could drive your LX Space Cruiser right into him and he wouldn’t blink! You know what I’m looking forward to watching?”

Jerry: “That’s easy, Gymnastics. Any special reason why for these Games? You always do.”

Stu: “I’ve got information from my sources that there’s going to be a credible threat to Mar’s 2316 winning gymnastics team. As you know they put on a masterful performance and experts are predicting they’ll do the same this time.

But..the Venusians have come up with several totally (from what I hear uninhibited) routines that are mesmerizing species across the solar system!”

As It Stands, Olympics, humor, and a path to peace. How much better can it get?

Sacrifice Day For Venus

Venus, 2208

A hundred years had passed since Venus lost the war against Mars.

Once a year, during the Harvest season, a Martian enforcer squad comes to The Great Hall of Aphrodite to collect the Sacrifice.

The Sacrifice, was 70 young Venusian females; one from every nation on Venus. They were wrapped in golden cloaks worth a tidy sum in Martian markets. It was a day of mourning for all Venusians; especially for the parents of the women taken.

As always, the leaders of the nations met after the Sacrifice, hoping to come up with a way to stop losing women every year. The leaders, men and women, always gathered at the Temple of Venus to talk.

The floor and walls were milky white marble from earth. Their tall slender Venusian reflections danced across the floor, chased by shadows cast from the setting sun. They glided gracefully across the marble like dancers, as the Venusians moved around the room in clusters of conversations.

Finally, when the moons came out, they adjourned the meeting with no solutions.

That night, a young woman asked her father, who was one of the leaders, how far would they go to stop the Martians from annually plundering their planet? The father, puzzled by the question, asked her what she meant?

“If we must send sacrifices, why not tainted ones that could destroy all life on Mars?”

The father, who’d been sitting, stood up and approached his daughter. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Martians have no resistance against our diseases. No more than we have of theirs.”

The import of what his daughter was saying made him sad, but hopeful too. “Do you purpose to ask for volunteers for this deadly mission?”

“No. We’ll use the regular lottery system to decide the 70 who will be infected,” she said.

After a special meeting two days later the die was cast.

The scientists decided which virus to use. They also agreed not to give it to the women until the night before the Sacrifice. It would only take 24-hours before becoming deadly to the host, and whoever was near them.

There was no cure.

Meanwhile, the 70 women selected were treated like the heroines they were. Every door to every convenience on Venus was open to them. Strangers asked for their autographs.

There was no worry that the Martians would get wind of their plans because they had become lax during the last couple of decades. They didn’t even have representatives or spies to monitor the Venusians anymore.

Venus was considered the arm-pit of the solar system to Martians who hated having to spend any time there.

When time for the next Sacrifice came the Venusians were ready. The Martians who escorted the women to the space cruiser idly noticed that there were no cries of mercy from the women or the crowd that had gathered.

Their contempt for the peaceful Venusians pushed away any warning signs from their minds.

As It Stands, this my warped version of a space David and Goliath story.

Colorado USA, 2377: ‘It Isn’t A Good Day To Die’

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A year after the Krillion invasion of earth, there were still holdouts who didn’t surrender.

They were driven to isolated – hard to get to – parts of the planet.

The last Americans in North America found refuge in the Rocky Mountains 3,000 mile span, from the Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador, to central Alabama.

The people who fled there still had a fighting spirit and an abiding thirst for revenge.

The survivors represented a cross-section of races. They shared a common bond; they all loved freedom. Most were still scattered about in small multi-ethnic groups. But one of the groups consisted of forty-eight Sioux men, and women.

There were representatives from all seven Sioux bands. The leader, Cloud Walker, was a descendant of the great chief Touch The Clouds from the Miniconjou band.

Cloud Walker served for 10 years in the U.S. Army. He was a Special Forces Ranger who saw many perilous missions in his highly decorated career. He was also a natural leader who inspired loyalty.

It was he who brought the group together and organized a survival system best suited for their circumstances. They group never stayed in one place for more than two days. They had hunters who went out and killed game the traditional ways.

The only person who carried modern weapons was Cloud Walker. He wore a Glock 48 automatic Lasergun, and carried a molecular destroying rifle on a sling. It was one of the Krillions own weapons that he had taken in an ambush two months ago.

For nearly a year, Cloud Walker taught his group to use military tactics including ambushes, sabotage, raids, petty warfare, hit-and-run tactics, and mobility to fight a larger and less-mobile military.

The aliens used their advanced technology to destroy all of the traditional armies on earth. Major cities were leveled. Millions of people worldwide were incinerated during the initial three-day attack.

The rest tried to hide as best as they could. Some groups still fought for survival in Asia, Europe, and South America. Governments collapsed in panic as the slaughter continued. But Cloud Walker’s group grew in numbers and confidence.

On July 4th, 2378, Cloud Walkers warriors grew to 147, and they were ready for their first big raid against the Killions. The target was Granby, Colorado. It was once a small tourist resort town not far from Denver.

It now served as a command center for the Krillion invaders who continued to hunt for surviving humans. Granby, nestled along the Continental Divide and Rocky Mountain National Park, was a six-hour walk for Cloud Walkers guerrillas.

They’d been studying the security of the compound for days and were surprised to see there was very little. A few guards lingered outside the two giant domes. After capturing one of the guards they studied him for two days.

It was obvious the aliens had to wear a filtration system in earth’s atmosphere. The system was a mask that wrapped around the lower half of their heads. Tiny feeders ran inside their suits exoskeleton into a small tank of Krillion atmosphere located in the back.

The shiny black exoskeleton space suits were bulky and imposing. Inside however, the actual alien was thin, hairless, and it’s skin was various hues of blue. They were nowhere near as strong as a normal human.

The warriors knew what their foes weaknesses were after 48 hours of experimenting on their live hostage. Just before attacking the guards Cloud Walker took the alien’s mask off and they all watched it die quickly.

“We don’t know how many of them are inside those domes. We do not know if they will be fully armed and dressed, or running around like turtles without their shells,” Cloud Walker quipped.

“Our goal is to kill as many as possible before retreating back into the wilderness. This is a hit and run. No more than 10 minutes before getting out of there. Remember to use your speed.”

One of the men spoke up, “Today is a good day to die.”

Another man, a Hunkappa Sioux, said “My ancestor Sitting Bull said that. “

An Oglala Sioux named Two-toes said, “No. It was Crazy Horse, a great war leader, who said that before attacking Custer.”

Cloud Walker looked at his men and smiled. “My brothers, no Native American wants to die in battle. We were never afraid to fight, but it was some white newspaper man who came up with that silly saying.

“Instead, let me say today is not a day to die, but to overcome our enemies, and to live on to fight another day!”

A war-whoop went up and the warriors moved in on the alien guards.

As It Stands, I’ve always considered native Americans to be a wise race that fell victim to technology.

The Space Hobos of Saturn

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Meeting Hall of the Intergalactic Space Hobos Fraternity

Saturn Chapter – Special Session

“I’ll be straightforward with you,” said the president. “We look like a pack of amateurs!”

The membership stirred uneasily.

“Every Hobo Chapter planet in the Milky Way is racking up better numbers than us. Their Hobos catch three times as many free rides as we do daily. Mars, the leader, records six times as many illegal hops a day more than we do.”

A nervous buzz broke out among the membership. One member stood up on all three legs and asked if he could speak. The president nodded affirmatively and moved away from the podium.

“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Rill-Tara, and I’m the librarian/accountant for our chapter. I’ve been following this disturbing trend for three years now, and I think I know how to turn it around.”

Excited whispers. President Nor-Rav held up all three of his hands and called for silence. “Proceed brother.”

“As we all know, for many years the earthlings had the best hobos in the universe. Then earth became embroiled in inter-planetary wars that sent mankind back to earth’s stone age.

Technology of all kinds was lost. The remaining humans were reduced to hunter gatherers who could no longer read or write. The trappings of their great civilization crumbled and rotted with time.

My interest of study started with the origin of Earth’s great hobos, and then branched out to the years they were dominate in the Milky Way.”

Someone in the crowd yawned.

“Okay! I get the message. I’ll keep it short. The first hobos emerged during the Great Depression. The most well-known hobo of the period was the King of Hobos, “Steam Train Maury.”

Generations of other hobos have been inspired by his exploits. The five-time holder of the title, set the standard for stealth and inventiveness. I couldn’t find much about him as I shambled through earths decaying libraries, but I did find a movie (that I converted into a hologram) about his life.

Earth movie director, Robert Aldrich, made the hobo opus titled, Emperor of the North. After watching this movie I was inspired and invigorated. It was about a brutal conductor of a train who had a personal vendetta against the best train-hopping hobo in the Northwest.

The hobo in the movie was called A-1, and he prevailed against the cruel conductor. I believe this movie can serve as a wake-up call to all of us!”

President Nor-Rav thanked him and took the podium. “Let’s vote on this idea,” he said.

Two weeks later the Saturn Chapter of the Intergalactic Space Hobos Fraternity celebrated when they moved into third place.

As It Stands, I always thought Lee Marvin’s best performance was the character A-1, in Emperor of the North.

The Thing In Ted’s TV

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Ted was 4-years old when the thing in the TV first appeared.

He was watching the roadrunner make a fool out of wily j. coyote when something that kind of looked like an octopus to Ted, appeared and grabbed the unfortunate coyote with its tentacles.

The thing then turned to Ted and asked him if he ever eaten a coyote?

A four-year olds thought process is still unencumbered with a world of facts, so he answered the things question without giving it any thought, “No. Don’t want to eat doggies.”

The things eyes glittered with mirth at Ted’s innocent response. It finally had discovered the elusive conduit it needed to go back to it’s planet…this small human named Ted. It would take time to totally control Ted, probably a lot of earth years.

That was okay with the thing because it’s lifespan was 1,000 Tomiad years-old. Earth years were just a drop in the bucket. In addition, the process would reveal human weaknesses, making it easier to invade Earth when it returned with a fleet of warships.

So the thing befriended Ted.

After Ted told his mom one day about his new friend on the TV, the thing warned him to keep their friendship a secret. She laughed it off and kissed her son. But that was the last time Ted told anyone about the thing.

In fifth grade Ted brought his class assignments home. He would turn on the TV while doing his homework and the thing helped him. His mother would chide him about having the TV on when he was supposed to be studying, but didn’t make an issue out of it because he had great grades.

Ted was a straight A student that got scholarship offers from four major colleges when he graduated from high school. He chose the University of Los Angeles (UCLA) and entered the Henry Samueli School of Engineering and Applied Science.

The program was listed among the 10 most prestigious Engineering Schools in the nation. It was an honor to be accepted.

Throughout this time Ted stayed in daily contact with the thing. The thing only appeared when Ted was alone in the room. The thing was pleased with Ted’s progress and felt closer every day to accomplishing it’s mission.

But the thing didn’t count on the human brain’s ability to expose danger in any situation. It had no idea how complex humans really were. It assumed Ted was an easy mark. What it didn’t know was that Ted had been suspicious of it for a long time.

By the time he entered first grade he knew his relationship with the thing in the TV was odd. He suspected something wasn’t right when no one else he knew ever spoke of seeing a thing on their TV’s. And he didn’t want to be laughed at.

Ted was always a clever kid with a boundless imagination. He spent his life trying to figure out what to do about his situation. On one hand, the thing taught him a lot and was always a good listener. On the other, he knew the relationship wasn’t natural.

Eighteen months after graduated with honors, Ted was given a million dollar grant to pursue his studies on Artificial Intelligence.

Using a process that transformed the artificial intelligence field, Ted discovered an effective drug combination that optimized the eradication of roundworms, and common agricultural parasites that infect livestock.

Unknown to anyone, including his assistants, Ted was pursuing another agenda. How to get rid of the thing. He suspected for a long time it wasn’t telling him everything. He was sure it wasn’t a guardian angel. It was too damn ugly.

Ted developed a software program capable of intelligent behavior. He named it XZAR. One day he decided it was ready for the real thing. After installing XZAR in his flat screen TV, Ted turned on the evening news.

Five minutes into the broadcast, the thing appeared in the top right corner.

“Will you help me go home now that your research has taken you this far?” the thing asked, unaware that wily j. coyote was sneaking up on it.

As It Stands, TV sets are always good science fiction material.

The Drunken StormTroopers Punishment

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“You stand accused of Section 2115 – Drunk on Duty, Private Bar12 Bacc. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I hope I have a good lawyer!”

The three judge jury looked down at the squat, ungainly, figure of Private Bar12 Bacc and simultaneously wondered how he ever got into the Solar Stormtroopers. His slovenly appearance was an affront to the fleet.

He was short, even by Mercurian standards. Bar12 wasn’t recruiting poster material in anyone’s army. He enjoyed playing pranks, drinking, telling jokes, and chasing females. His ability to down great quanties of liquor made from Neptunian grapes, was legendary throughout the fleet.

So how did a slob like Bar12 Bacc get into the Imperial Star Fleet? The answer was stunningly unimpressive; his wealthy parents bribed the Supreme Commander to take their wayward son into military service for 20 years.

It was only a year into the arrangement when Bar12 was busted for drinking on duty. He was lectured, fined, and told to never do it again. The said that the second time too. And the third.

Now, as the jury of three looked at him they were faced with a tough decision, the penalty for defying the rules was death. But when the star fleet lawyer told them they couldn’t kill Bar12 because the Supreme Commander said so, they sought a creative way out of the situation.

Bar12 had to be made an example of. Military disipline demanded it. It took the judges three days to come up with a solution. They would exile Bar12 for life to another planet in the solar system.

They picked earth at the time mankind was beginning to emerge from mud huts to building great mounds. The primitive planet would be a safe place to send him. When the verdict was given to Bar12 he blinked stupidly.

He was allowed to bring a small memento with him to his new home. After the spacecraft dropped him off in a country called Italy, he pulled out his momento. A dozen seeds from his favorite Neptunian vineyards.

He quickly planted them in Bordeaux, Burgundy and Alsace. His new earth name was Bacchus, and his vineyards soon become the stuff of legends. So did he. His ability to drink any wine and party hearty was seen as a good thing among his Roman followers.

At some point in time they called him a god.

To underscore the influence of Bar12’s amazing evolutionary leap in wine making, the techniques used to make the earliest Neptunian/Languedoc wine in the first century A.D. did not change until the 1970’s.

As It Stands, this is my myth about the creation of Bacchus, the God Of Wine.

How a Bounty Hunter Saved America

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Prologue – 2022 in Earth’s Timeline.

An Inter-Galactic Wanted Poster was displayed in two Solar Systems:

Rogue Scientist, Dr. Ki, wanted for stealing secret technology from two planets. Shoot upon contact! Proof of kill needed for reward.

2099 – Earth.

“There is no beginning and there is no end. Just the here and now.”

“How’s that sound X-249? Can you help me out with this new app message? the Director asked, already knowing the answer.

X-249, his personal robot, sat down behind a computer and went to work right away. From a distance, and if you had some sight problems, X-249 looked like a human. A silver human.

“It shouldn’t take me too long to build the construct you request Director.”

The new app was an immediate hit. They always were. It worked seamlessly with people’s personal mobile communication device implants. The Director and his political staff made sure everyone had one, and that they regularly downloaded the Director’s messages.

If they didn’t, they’d be subject to a government fine resulting in five years in solitary, on the third of the sixty-two moons of Saturn.

Americans needed to be programed once a week. The Director’s apps provided them with inspirational messages while they awaited his commands. It was just one in a variety of ways he used to control the country.

There wasn’t any need for brute force since the last rebellion in 2093. That’s when the Director employed killer Cyborgs that butchered the rebel forces. Resistance faded away. The dream of justice and freedom was turned into a nightmare again.

Despite that, every decade or two, men and women gathered secretly to oppose the draconian laws imposed by the Director. The constitution was a sacred book that gave them hope. They kept their history alive by orally sharing it with each generation.

People no longer spoke aloud. Instead they used sign language to communicate. Americans had lost their voices. Talking meant they could be recorded and subjected to some obscure law resulting in punishment.

For generations baby’s were shushed and taught basic sign language. It was the one thing about the people the Director didn’t know about. He thought they were born mute, for whatever obscure reason.

A simple blinking-eye Morris Code was also taught at an early age. The fires of resistance were hardwired into their collective DNA. Everyone looked forward to the day when they would be free.

When it happened, it was anti-climatic. No one got a message from the Director one day. Then the next. A week went by and no messages, or demands! It took a month for someone to finally find the Director’s body, sans head, in his secret headquarters.

Directly above the headless Director was a shiny photo showing a gray alien holding the Director’s head in one hand, an exotic sword in the other, and a wanted poster in his third hand.

As It Stands, a bounty-hunter saving America is the kind of irony that tickles my muse.

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