Science Fiction Fantasies: Tales and Origins

by Unknown

  Science Fiction Fantasies

  By Bill Eckel

  Text copyright © 2016 William L Eckel

  all rights reserved

  Dedication

  For those that have encouraged me, I thank you. For those that have assisted me, I appreciate you. For those of you that read me, bless you.

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to be a statement of fact or belief.

  All characters are fictional. (I've been called worse.)

  It is for entertainment purposes only.

  Visit me on Facebook.

  http://www.facebook.com/BillEckel, Author

  or my website

  www.billeckel.com

  Acknowledgements

  I owe a special thanks to the organizations I belong to, Friday Writers and Norman Galaxy of writers, for their encouragement.

  I am deeply indebted to those of you providing me instruction. I hope is tax deductable.

  A Word from the Author

  This was originally meant to be a revision of Uplift. While it does include the same two stories, this collection (and the character Ba'al in particular) somewhere along the way took on an entirely different life of their own. Hopefully I have improved the stories and story structure.

  I start out with two stand alone shorts, An Act of Kindness and The Cyborg Rebellion. The middle section contains Ba'al's story. It starts with Logs and Personal Recollections and ends with The Leven. I have tried to give it the feel of a journal as told by or to a single narrator.

  The remainder of the stories are stand alone shorts. Trial by Demon is a fantasy story, but very entertaining.

  Table of Contents

  An Act of Kindness

  The Cyborg Rebellion

  Logs and Personal Recollections

  The Coven

  Gliesse 667c

  On the Bridge of the E'den

  In the Red Mountains

  The Leven

  Day of Beginning

  Trial by Demon

  An Act of Kindness

  Space travel is tedious, thought Oguy. Especially travelling with Yagg. Simply put, Yagg was an asshole. Such a thought was an interesting concept to Oguy because insectoids were not equipped with that particular body part. However, Yagg's attitude more than made up for the lack. Oguy was a long-suffering type who believed that one of these days Yagg was going to get his.

  Several of Oguy's eyes saw the claw before it struck, but not in time to avoid it. It struck between his eye cluster and feeler. His exoskeleton absorbed the force of the blow, but damage wasn't the intent of the strike. It was Yagg's way of gaining attention.

  "O goo eey," he drawled.

  Oguy knew Yagg purposely distorted the pronunciation of his name.

  "Your reflexes are getting as slow as your metasoma is getting fat."

  Yagg clacked his pincers. Yagg always clacked his pincers at his own jokes. He was the only one that did.

  Oguy cleaned his feeler and checked it for damage. He mewled, "You're going to hurt someone one day. Or put some eyes out."

  "Not someone with as hard an exo as yours. Its positively dense and you have plenty of eyes," said Yagg. "Now, get up. You're sitting in my chair."

  "Sorry," mumbled Oguy.

  It didn't matter which of the two chairs he sat in. Yagg always wanted the one Oguy was sitting in. Oguy moved over.

  As Yagg settle in, he asked," Where are we going?"

  "Sol system."

  "Oh, them," said Yagg. "What level?"

  "Level Five."

  Yagg clacked his pincers. His eye clusters lit up. "Extermination. My favorite. It couldn't happen to a more deserving race. They're totally worthless."

  You would know, thought Oguy. Though to be truthful, the inhabitants of the planet slated for extinction had proven to be a huge disappointment. They simply couldn't get along. Like Oguy's tolerance of Yagg, the Queen and her council had been long suffering, but one defective trait kept resurfacing. No one wanted to be equal. With this race, it was either dominance or submission. This time they would all submit. It would be their final act and the only one they ever did as a single race.

  Oguy waved his feelers in Yagg's direction, "We're ready to jump."

  Yagg input the coordinates while Oguy activated his hive collar and contacted Interstellar Control.

  "Control Charlie Kilo, element Foxtrot Uniform One Zebra Three, ready for jump."

  "Foxtrot Uniform One Zebra Three, Control Charlie Kilo, roger, have you verified your coordinates?"

  Oguy glanced in Yagg's direction. His partner excreted the scent of agitation.

  "Of course they're good," said Yagg.

  "That's affirmative, Charlie Kilo."

  "Roger that. Foxtrot Uniform One Zebra Three, jump approved. Good luck. You'll need it.

  "Foxtrot Uniform."

  "Charlie Kilo."

  "What's that jerks problem?" asked Yagg

  Oguy shot a look at Yagg's coordinates. Oguy's breath exhaled through the many holes in his exoskeleton, the equivalent of an insectoids sigh. "Beats me."

  Their small interstellar craft leaped through the infinity of space. Their exit point emerged within an asteroid belt. Yagg threw himself backwards against his seat. He raised four of his six appendages up in front of him to shield himself from the rapidly approaching asteroids. Calmly, Oguy took the controls. The craft swerved away from the nearest space rock.

  Yagg came out of his fright long enough to back-hand Oguy. "What did you do?"

  Oguy ducked away. "I'm sorry." He continued to dodge and weave through the worst of the field, adeptly avoiding a collision. "But I might remind you that you input the coordinates."

  Yagg spun his chair to face Oguy. "Are you suggesting that this is my fault?"

  Oguy maneuvered around a few more asteroids before finding a calm spot to merge with the field. He slumped back into his chair. It took all his willpower not the excrete accusing pheromones. "You input the coordinates and verified them. That's all I'm saying."

  "You must have jostled my claw," said Yagg, arranging himself more comfortably.

  "I must have." Oguy looked away. You will never admit to anything. He activated his hive collar. "Control Charlie Kilo, element Foxtrot Uniform One Zebra Three."

  Oguy's feelers could almost smell the scent of surprise when the controller answered.

  "Element Foxtrot Uniform One Zebra Three, Control Charlie Kilo, you made it. Standby for mission download."

  "One Zebra Three, standing by." A moment later he added, "Receiving download. Download complete. Thanks, Control. Foxtrot Uniform."

  "Charlie Kilo."

  "Uniform," added Yagg, clacking his pincers and cutting the contact.

  "You're not funny," said Oguy.

  "He is. Funny looking, that is," said Yagg. "What's the status?"

  It wasn't good, not if one lived on the targeted planet. Oguy felt sympathy for the inhabitants. They had originally been an experiment. Could a civilization exist without a hive mentality? Could they thrive? The DNA of the new race had been programmed with a high degree of independence. After forty thousand years, it appeared that they had too much.

  All their independence had led to selfishness. Nothing or no one mattered but themselves, individually. The Queen's decree declared that pattern of thought as having "no place in the universe." Oguy studied Yagg out of the corner of some of his eyes. He waited a moment before answering Yagg's question about status. "It's a go."

  Yagg clacked his pincers. "This is my favorite part. How does she want us to do it?"

  "Asteroid strike," said Oguy. "But just one big enough to depopulat
e. The Queen intends to reseed the planet with proper life forms."

  "Yeah, yeah, right. I'll take care of it."

  Oguy agreed. "Okay. I got some down time, I think I'll take it. Remember, not a planet killer."

  "Heh, heh, these snowflakes are going to get their feelings hurt real good. It serves them right. I think I'll target their safe space."

  Oguy smiled, at least as much as insectoids could. He knew he had a little time before Yagg decided he wanted his own down time instead of allowing Oguy any. He went to their craft's storage locker. Inside was stashed a special package, half a kilo of diatomaceous earth and several pairs of gloves. He took his package to Yagg's cocoon.

  Oguy handled the specially wrapped substance very carefully as he coated the inside of Yagg's personal chamber with half of the fine powder. The abrasive physico-sorptive properties of the diatomaceous earth would break down the waxy lipids that covered Yagg's exoskeleton. Yagg would slowly dehydrate. Oguy put the rest of the powder in the cocoon's breathing tank. He had barely hidden the evidence before Yagg entered the compartment.

  "Hey, slacker, I happen to realize that it's my turn for down time. Get outta here and get back to work."

  Oguy said nothing as Yagg positioned himself within his cocoon. Once it sealed, Oguy deactivated the emergency override. Yagg was trapped. Oguy looked in on his partner.

  Yagg was squirming around, trying to scratch his exoskeleton. The close confines of the cocoon did not allow enough movement. His eyes linked with Oguy's. "You miserable insect! You put itch powder in my cocoon. When I get outta here, I'm going to rip your feelers off. I'll tear your legs off one at a time. I'll─"

  Yagg's voice cut off abruptly as Oguy held up the label of his special package.

  "You'll do nothing to me ever again, Yagg."

  Oguy adhered the label to the view port where Yagg would see it until the end. Oguy then returned to the space craft's bridge. Yagg had, of course, selected too large a rock and aimed it for a volcanic caldera. Oguy shook his head. He felt justified in what he had done to Yagg.

  Oguy detonated the abort charge on Yagg's rock and selected another, smaller asteroid. He launched two drones that attached themselves to the new rock. One would nudge the asteroid out of the Kuiper Belt, the other to fine tune the aim. Target: the third planet. The blue one.

  Oguy detonated the charge. The small asteroid left the belt on a perfect trajectory.

  "Control Charlie Kilo, element Foxtrot Uniform One Zebra Three, over."

  "Element Foxtrot Uniform One Zebra Three, Control Charlie Kilo, over."

  "Control Charlie Kilo, mission accomplished. Request permission to return to base."

  "Both missions, Foxtrot Uniform?"

  "Both missions, Control."

  "The Queen will be pleased. He was, how did she put it? An asshole."

  Oguy clacked his pincers.

  ###

  The Cyborg Rebellion

  It was a bitch getting thrown off Earth. Not that I would go back if I could. As Transhumanists, or h+ers as we are derisively called, we had worn out our welcome. Just like the Fleshie rock drillers I was watching on my security camera feeds. I had been alerted to the disturbance in the Holding Cells via the neural implant provided to all us Royals. Ha. Royals. That was a joke.

  I was many things; Kwami Urakurtz, an African warrior at the peak of perfection, the man with the million dollar face, ex-Chief of Staff Planetary Peacekeepers, but I was not royalty. The closest I had come was the glitz and glamour of being a Greater Earth socialite. Those were the good times. Now I'm Chief of Security on some god-forsaken rock called Eris. God-forsaken rock. Now that I think about it, that doesn't come close to describing it. Eris is a barren hell-hole named after the Goddess of Strife and Discord and, of course, my subjects were rioting.

  Using the same implant or brain chip that alerted me, I connected to the central computer. From there I pulled up all the cameras at Justice Lock and routed them to my vid screen. I slammed my fist on the desk. Damn that Dmitri! He had made good his threat to man Justice Lock with mechs, robots with low grade AIs. Like the Tower of London, Justice Lock was the last stop for the growing number of human malcontents. On the other side of the lock was the vacuum of space.

  After a few moments of watching the feed, I determined that riot was a bit of a stretch. I replayed the beginning of the incident. A Fleshie - that's how we referred to natural humans on Eris - sentenced to go through Justice Lock was being prepped by mechs. Twenty Fleshie rock drillers witnessed the event. What moron allowed that to happen? As the mech was securing the Fleshie's hands behind his back, the witnesses surge forward. The mechs moved to meet them. The Fleshies pulled out laze pistols and the melee was on. The Fleshies were definitely the perps, but it was Dmitri that caused it.

  Too bad he's not there. I cut the feed and grabbed my sonic rifle. Stepping into the ready room of the First Level security detachment, I ordered, "Charlie squad, fall in. We got Fleshies attacking the mechs at Justice Lock."

  Charlie squad erupted into motion, grabbing weapons and gear from their ready racks. I heard the squad leader bitch, "Christ, I fucking knew it."

  So did I. Dmitri Petronovich wanted his mechs to rule over all. As the only Royal who had uploaded his consciousness into an AI and housed it in a robotic body, he despised those that didn't. I had sworn I would never upload. I was not going to mess with perfection. My pretty face would remain human. For that reason, Dmitri and I did not get along. At all.

  Charlie squad boiled out of the ready room and made its way across two tunnels to the Holding Cells. Entering the foyer, I saw one of the Mark Two's use his fist to crush the skull of the handcuffed driller. The prisoner fell to the ground, his head leaking gray matter. Eight laser beams focused on the offending Mark Two. In moments, arms, legs, and other pieces of his robotic torso fell to the deck next to the Fleshie he had killed. They joined the five other Fleshies and similarly cut up Mark Two.

  Smoke and sparks rose from the lazed pieces of the mechs. The air in the foyer reeked of burnt flesh and scorched metal. The deck in front of the Justice Lock was awash in blood and positronic fluid.

  The leader of the mechs had his back to the entrance of the air lock. The Fleshies concentrated the fire of their small pistols at him, burning away the nano-enhanced plasti-skin and exposing white hot bare metal. His robotic body wouldn't last much longer. I decided to try and save it.

  I motioned. Charlie squad fanned out on each side of me, rifles leveled. I called out, "Eridian Security. Cease fire."

  One of the Fleshies broke away from the group and activated the outer door of the air lock. Escaping air formed a suction, pulling dead Fleshies and robotic parts into the lock. The surviving mech refused to disengage. He struggled toward the cluster of Fleshies. The falling pressure activated Charlie squads collapsible helmets.

  I shook my head. "Well, shit."

  I'd seen enough. This group of Fleshies may have been willing to sacrifice themselves, but they weren't taking me with them. I set my sonic rifle to stun and fired a blast in the direction of the locks control panel. The aural grenade detonated over the heads of the rioters.

  The Fleshies dropped their weapons and covered their ears. The mech kept advancing. I changed the setting to lethal and fired again. The signature whine of the sonic rifle preceded a super-agitated sound wave cocooned in a laser beam. It easily cut through the mechs outer skin. The upper half fell away from the legs and waist. Both pieces were sucked into the lock along with the odor of sizzling positronic fluid and burnt electronics.

  I signaled the squad leader. Half his squad advanced on the staggering Fleshies herding them away from the lock. The squad leader went to the lock controls and closed the inner hatch. The pressure equalized.

  Satisfied that I had the situation under control, I collapsed my helmet and pushed it off my head. I wanted the Fleshies to know who was addressing them. My imposing frame and pretty face was easily recognizable. My voice boomed w
ith authority and fury. "You know who I am." I pointed. "Look at the vid screen."

  The vid screen above the lock showed Fleshie and mech alike ejected into space. Fleshie grumbling began immediately. Charlie squad level their weapons at the Fleshies. The grumbling ceased.

  "Justice is served," I said. "Pick up your weapons and go home."

  "We'll not be put to death by mechs," spat one of drillers. "We'll not!"

  I ignored him. "Squad leader, post two men."

  The two men positioned themselves in front of the lock controls. Not particularly wanting t shoot anyone else, I took my knife out and drew it across my palm. I held it up for all to see. Blood trickled out of the cut and dripped onto the deck."We're all Fleshies here. We all bleed."

  That seemed to calm the Fleshies somewhat. I hefted my whiner and pointed it in the direction of Justice Lock. "Now, unless you want to breathe vacuum, you'll pick up your weapons and go home. I'll carry your words to the Royal Council."

  The drillers picked up what weapons hadn't been sucked out of the lock and left, all except the spokesman. He looked at the blood still dripping out of my palm and offered his hand. "Thanks."

  I looked at his hand. It meant nothing to me. I was just doing my job. "For what?"

  "For listening. For taking our words to the Royals," he said.

  I had no intention of being a hero to the Fleshies and resented being put in the position of appearing that way. When I spoke, my voice was flat, "We all live on this rock. We need to get along."

  The spokesman withdrew his hand. "We'll meet again, Kwami Urakurtz. One day when you need help." He left the holding cell.

  I muttered under my breath, "Damn you, Dmitri."

  More and more, Dmitri put his robotic minions in positions of authority over the formerly contracted rock drillers of Eris. Clerks in the bureaucracies, food distribution centers, and handing out pay chits, there was no activity on Eris free of the growing influence of the mechs. Now, thanks to Dmitri, mechs were legally killing Fleshies and the Fleshies were ready to revolt. I told that dumb bastard, Bertrand, this would happen. He refused to listen. You can't tell a Royal a damn thing.