Sci Fi

Shapeshifters, Chapter One
In the beleaguered city of Nottingham it was the height of day, but a preternatural still reigned over the streets. Invasion had banished traffic and emptied offices. Now the midday sun glinted silent and unstinting from the ring of gargantuan robots that surrounded the central area already ceded to the enemy. This hush however was deceptive. Most were hard at work, from the Solidity soldiers in their outposts and watchtowers peering ceaselessly over the war-zone in search of resistance, to the ones they sought biding their time in hollows and gullies amidst the rubble, to others in the free city striving to orchestrate rebellion of their own. But all played a waiting game, with with neither action nor word disclosed the ends of their diverse secret schemes.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
Locket
A forgotten city, long from now; could be any month, any day, almost any time between sunrise and sunset. Clouds the colour of faded renaissance paintings blotted out the sun, leaving only a faint shadowy disc. A sense of pressure hung in the air, humidity threatening to worsen and turn into rain. The sound of restless crowds, of Militia boots falling in step, heralding another patrol, another raid, another skirmish. Trash lined the sidewalks and crumbled underfoot, blooming horrid, previously undiscovered odours.
By Paul Martyn5 years ago in Fiction
A Nation of Our Own
“You need to button that stuff up, Kev. We’ll be leaving in about 10 minutes.” Sara’s voice called from the doorway. “Alright.” Kevin replied as he looked up from his computer screen, just catching a glimpse of the fiery little redhead as she continued on her way to the prep-chamber.
By Joseph Duncan5 years ago in Fiction
Shapeshifters, Chapter Two
Interplanetary space had been struck alight. Energy-emissions, the kind that looked like highways made of pulsating death, were roaring from the vanishing-point and cascading into the black yonder while deadly missiles and rockets buzzed endlessly by like outriders in their slipstream. In and out of this chaos the Flash Club ship swerved and rolled as it made its dauntless way ever onward. Neetra, who had done her homework on this galaxy’s weapons before embarking, gripped the twin handles of her steering-stick yet tighter and hollered aloud:
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
Fantastic Voyage - Part 2
CA-55 arced downwards. It was as graceful as an Olympic diver. If one could witness the shuttle’s entry into the atmosphere, one would describe it as an arrow soaring through a sheet of vapour. Gone were the days of turbulent entries and departures. The crew might as well have been strapped into their armchairs at home. Ephemeral clouds whizzed past the shuttle’s window. After a few seconds, CA-55 broke through the layer of clouds, and the astronauts were treated with their first clear view of X-Terra’s surface. CA-55’s familiar hum pierced the thick silence generated by the crew members’ collective awe. They were landing on a tropical island.
By FP5 years ago in Fiction
Fantastic Voyage - Part 1
During her training program, Rita had read various books about the history of space travel. She had marvelled at the things she learned. For example, Apollo 11 was powered by a computer with a miniscule processing power of 64 kilobytes. Her kitchen dustbin with the automatic lid used more than that. Another example: Laika 3, Russia’s historic space mission at the turn of the 22nd century, was the first manned mission to leave the solar system. None of the astronauts survived the return to Earth; their sanity was crushed by the isolation and existential turmoil that accompanied outer space’s opaque vacuum. The pilots, disregarding all of their training, could not bear another three years away from Earth, so they overrode the automatic flight controls and prematurely diverted the ship back towards Earth. Of course, no human can anticipate the random movements of asteroid clusters in outer space. Their ship was destroyed, but not before the crucial data was transferred back to mission control thanks to a computer that transmitted an incredible 7500 terabytes of data per second.
By FP5 years ago in Fiction
Mirror
Old Barn A piece of charred wood fell from above as I managed to push some old equipment out of the way. I’d been waiting for this day my entire life, but this was all wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I looked down at the strange key card in my hand and realized I needed to focus. I cleared away some more debris and found the lock. I ran the card through without a clue as to what was on the other side. “Dad needed the green bottle with the blue tape in the black closet”, I whispered to myself over and over. The door opened and lights fluttered on to reveal a stairway. I ran down and came across another door. I typed my birthdate into the keypad, and I was suddenly staring at myself in some sort of liquid mirror. I reached out to touch it and it opened around my hand. Through the whole I could see a small lab. I closed my eyes and stepped through with extreme relief that I passed through safely. Though when I looked behind, the mirror was gone. I quickly scanned the room for the black closet. I found it immediately and within a minute I was holding the green bottle with the blue tape.
By Genevieve Armstorff5 years ago in Fiction
Safe Haven
THE CRASH WAS IMPOSSIBLY LOUD! Mo shook awake, but she wasn’t sure why, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Something told her to hop out of bed — and she padded softly towards the window. There was a light frost covering the fields outside. And there was a light, like a blazing trail across the sky.
By Nathan Charles5 years ago in Fiction
The World He Once Knew
The smell of a smoking fire mixed with the delicious scent of steak being charred, carried through the air. Mataius snapped awake, dream rapidly fading and dark reality about him came rushing in. As he gained his senses, he looked down to see his right-hand clutching onto the heart-shaped locket around his neck. "This is becoming a habit" he thought to himself, and then caught himself salivating at the smell of dinner. Mataius sprung to his feet. The dinner was not his, nor was he expecting to be a welcomed guest; that was not a thing anymore, he mused. He quickly gathered the little belongings he had, unholstered his pistol and checked the ammo, before placing it back. From his vantage point higher on the hill, he could see smoke to the north, "Good" he thought, as his journey was taking him east; another 30 miles east to Spokane. He started the trek, legs carrying him easily after having walked over 200 miles in the last two weeks. It has been a long two weeks; longer 200 miles from home; from his 4 bed, 3 bath home on the lake near Seattle. And an eternity from the last glimmer he had of normal life.
By Andrei Borodin5 years ago in Fiction
Blowing My Own Horn, Part Three
Blowing My Own Horn 3: The Stale Miracle “Dennis Rosso had really, really fucked things up. Death had just been minding its own business. And now he had killed it.”
By Grant Patterson5 years ago in Fiction
Blowing My Own Horn, Part Two
Blowing My Own Horn, Part Two: Slowly the World Burns, While I Help to Fan the Flames “One day, your reward will be peace.”
By Grant Patterson5 years ago in Fiction
The Carter File
Molly slowly opened her large green eyes and blinked at the glowing red numbers on the bedside clock. 1:30 a.m. silently cut through the dark. Perfect. The meeting started in half an hour. That gave her more than enough time to grab a quick snack and check on the house before heading out. She stretched her long, lithe limbs, arched her back, and let out a satisfied sigh. Once on her feet, she stretched once more for good measure. The catnap had been a good one. The kind that left one feeling rejuvenated and clear-headed.
By Cynthia Varady5 years ago in Fiction