Mortal Danger

The recording eventually permeated Captain Trish Sanders' mind-fog. Like a persistent gnat, the reawakening program had mithered her subconscious for days.

As Trish's brain rebooted from stasis, the hum and gentle reverberation of the shuttle transporting her and her two crewmates to the exomoon Kepler-1708b-I coalesced into familiar white noise.

After travelling at one-quarter lightspeed for 22,400 years, adrenaline urged the Captain to check their status; her training urged caution.

Deliberately, she released the cryogenic chamber's restraint straps whilst listening to an AI-generated status report: they were on track, orbiting gas giant Kepler-1708b, trailing its exomoon; the relief!

After satisfactorily running the shuttle's manual checks, it was time to reanimate the crew.

They looked peaceful, lying there in adjacent chambers. If only!

Bethany, she trusted implicitly. But Patrick? He was the Admiral's nephew. And Bethany's ex. Moreover, a total liability.

No denying it, this mission was all about the Admiral's revenge.

He'd seconded Bethany because she'd unceremoniously dumped Patrick. Trish was there after publicly rejecting the Admiral's advances at a Final Frontier's Christmas party. The Admiral's embarrassment accounted for Patrick's presence. Terrific.

Whilst waiting for her crew to awaken, Trish landed the shuttle, launching the ecodome beneath which they'd conduct the mission's research: was Kepler-1708b-I a viable outpost for humankind?

Unspoken, she'd guessed, could humankind survive such a journey? She'd kept that suspicion to herself.

***

"Remind me," Patrick moaned on their first trip to the surface, "What godforsaken planet is this?"

"If you'd paid attention," Bethany admonished, "you'd know this is Kepler-1708 b-I, an exomoon."

"A moon? It's twice the size of Earth, stoopid," Patrick said, trying to be clever.

"Patrick," Trish said, struggling to remain objective, "Since launching, how long have we been cryogenically frozen?"

"100 years?" he shrugged.

The girls looked at each other, gobsmacked.

"Try 22,400, dickhead," Bethany scoffed.

"No wonder I'm starving," Patrick muttered, wandering off further into the ecodome.

"Trish?" Beth asked, "Why didn't we stop and jettison him over Gliese 876d?"

"Hell-lo. Your voices carry inside here," Patrick whinged from behind whatever craggy outcrop he'd gone to bother.

"Rules is rules, kid," Trish whispered. "Unless he puts us in mortal danger, he stays. Especially as he's the Admiral's nephew."

"Privileged posh boy's what he is," Beth added.

"That, too."

"Guys, look what I've found," Patrick panted, shuffling towards them holding something wriggly between his fingers.

"WTF? Like, procedure? Don't move!" Trish yelled, hurrying to fetch a container.

Seconds later, Beth asked Patrick, incredulous, "Are you going to eat that?"

'Fucking! Idiot!' Trish shuddered.

"Mm, Trish?" Beth suddenly ventured, "Don't want to worry you, but…"

The Captain pirouetted: the wriggly thing was suspended over Patrick's open mouth. Worse, behind Patrick loomed an unmistakably-related colossal wriggly thing.

"M-m-mortal danger?" Beth stammered. Trish nodded like her head was on springs; the girls fled towards the shuttle.

They didn't wait to see whether the colossal wriggly thing or exposure upon Trish retracting the ecodome got Patrick first.

/end

© Jason Darrell, 2022

Image: ESA/Hubble, CC BY 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

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The Brief:

Thanks for dropping by to read another of my bashes at flash fiction.

Awakening Satellite

The launch of the first organic satellite ignited mania and chaos in Japan.

Daiki and Sora, the pilots of the reconnaissance starship that would transport the wooden transmitter into orbit, had become as famous as their country's popstars.

Now, it was just them, their third day orbiting Earth, awaiting confirmation from Ground Control to jettison the satellite.

"Is that static, Sora?" Daiki asked, suddenly twiddling his earpiece.

She shrugged, then transmitted, "Can you hear me, Ground Control?"

"A OK, Sky 1!" they responded, crystal clear.

Without warning, the starship shook to its rivets; the pilots looked at each other, then at the external cameras. What had hit them?

One screen showed a crumpled bay door, but dented from the inside!

  That buzzing grew louder, the bay doors buckled completely and the satellite flew free, chaperoned by hosts of humongous hornets.

Looping branches, like vines, whipped through space as the satellite morphed, growing boles as big as sandpits from which giant hornets poured like a golden river.

A seemingly sentient sapling slithered towards them, encircling the nosecone, dragging the starship towards the satellite's burgeoning mass.

Free of gravity, these ancient creatures had realised their true capacities, and needed fuel for reentry!

Sudden Breakthrough

Cathy was next to challenge Ganglian, the shrouded entity stealthily poisoning Earth since its arrival.

Cathy'd not chosen this; her astounding TechSpec results had ultimately, unwittingly betrayed her.

She entered her pod, goodbyes addressed, will utterly defeated.

The pearlescent capsule would undoubtedly become her coffin, as had thousands of pods for Challengers beforehand. None had ever returned.

 One door sealed behind her, its opposing number opening, revealing the hereto unseen Ganglian.

Glistening green skin, writhing tentacles, azure pustules, slate eyes: She was beautiful!

Bewildered, Ganglian processed Cathy's reaction: love?

Slowly, She melted into Cathy's arms, whence She died, finally happy.

Enough

"I cannae give her any more, Cap'n. She'll blow!"

"Enough with the Scotty impressions, Frank. What will get this ship off Earth before the planet's landmass sinks forever!??"

"You won't like it, Cap'n!"

"Go on. Hit me."

"Dilithium crystal."

  The Cap'n turned aside, bashing his fist into his open palm. Having only one arm, that was some feat.

"If only we'd made the link between diamonds and Dilithium sooner! But the diamonds are all mined, blinging the necks, ears and fingers of the elite!"

"A pearl necklace is what I'd give 'em…"

"Enough smut, Frank. Seriously, man: focus!"

"Say we jettison half the passengers, Cap'n? We'd break through, then."

"Mm, interesting; but which half? The masters, or their servants?"

"The masters, Cap'n!"

"How so, Frank?"

"Well, can you see them foregoing their diamonds, although owning them's illegal, nowadays?"

"I doubt it…"

"Exactly. We'd make the Asteroid Belt on the Dilithium already salvaged. We could hole up there until Earth absorbs their diamonds to repair itself!"

"Marvellous idea, Frank!"

  Cap'n Skyped the bosun, relaying the orders. Three hours later, erstwhile load lightened, the ship broke through!

"Does it feel better now you've got your rocks off, Cap'n?"

"Enough smut, Frank…enough…"

On the Verge of Discovery

Flash sci-fi, 200 words

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"Oh, glorious day! A new black hole, closer even than Kepler-452b!", Prof Goodhope exclaimed at the news.

"With over 100 million black holes unaccounted for, there's bound to be one closer yet," Prof Heida countered.

With that, Goodhope determined he'd be next to discover a black hole.

Two days later, he leapt from his telescope, shouting, "Marianne, another one: closer!"

They scouted the forums to check if anyone had reported what Goodhope thought he'd discovered.

Dozens of reports of new black holes appearing all over the Milky Way filled the threads…
…but none reported where Goodhope had located his!

"We have to register this, Goodhope," Marianne enthused, "Get your name in the history books, in perpetuity!"

The queue on blackholeregistry.net's number (dark web) was incredible…

…"You are number 119 in the queue…"

"Do you think we'll find more, Marianne?" Goodhope asked, adding, "You should have the next one!"

…"You are number 118…"

"As it is", she replied, "there'll be enough for everyone!"

…"You are number 117…"

"I wonder," Goodhope thought outloud, "what would happen if one materialised near Eart…"

As if summoned, a black hole appeared right beside the moon. Goodhope never did get to register his find…

This Time

Flash sci-fi, 200 words

---

Letchkon urged the elevator to go faster, deeper into the Zalukian's subterranean lunar base. The Lunar-to-Gaia comms chief had urgent news for the mission leader.

"The trap is set, Commander Vlaadark", reported Letchkon, offering the seven-fingered salute as an afterthought.

"Sure it'll work this time, Letchkon?" Vlaadark asked. "We don't want to get Aschlav's hopes up again."

"I'm sure we won't let our exalted leader down again," Letchkon replied. "This time, the Gaians really are coming to the Moon."

"How can you be so sure?" Vlaadark asked, desperate for affirmation after that debacle in Gaia Rotation AD1969.

"Their exploratory craft detected our jettisoned detritus metals in outlying lunar craters, as we hoped. One of their state heads is greedy—and compromised—enough to attempt to mine here," Letchkon explained.

"And they have the capacity to get here?" Vlaadark pressed, now excited.

"Yes. Our spy, codenamed BoJo, has a seat of power on a small, marginally influential outcrop. He's confirmed they have capacity. This time."

"When can we expect their arrival?" Letchkon ventured, hopeful.

"Your guess…" Letchkon started, shrugging all four shoulders, "…is as good as mine."

They laughed at that; aliens like puns as much as the next madman.