Those who know me, know that I normally spurn fanciful, impractical space ship designs in my work. However, when I saw the picture above, it made me laugh: Wallenius, Greenpeace, a ship in space… and sent me off on a flight of fancy that spawned this brain spill, which has since morphed into a full short story. That story will be included in a collection of stories I’m working on. I may not be able to use this piece of art work in that book, but it should be OK here.
The Wallenius arrived on-site 4 days after she received a deep space radiogram relayed to her by Greenpeace central. The radiogram had been sent by a private yacht that had noticed a star cow had gotten tangled in a deep space communications array and could not extricate herself.
As the ship approached the array, Steve Preston worked the paddles that controlled the twin searchlights mounted in the ship’s bow, playing their beams along the massive array. It took several minutes to locate the creature.
“There she is. Five points up and 12 starboard.”
The helmsman adjusted course and the Wallenius slowly vectored in as they drew nearer to the array.
Janus stood beside Steve as they watched out the forward ports. Captain Andersen sat in the big chair in the center of the bridge, watching everything but saying nothing for the moment. The crew was trained to do this work, he trusted them to do their jobs.
Janus had chosen to wear her usual outfit of sandals, denim shorts and a too-tight tank top with a scoop neckline. Steve was having trouble keeping his eyes on his work with her standing so close. Her figure was a perfect blend of athletic and curvaceous. Topped with the face of an angel, framed in an ebony mane, he found her quite irresistible. Always had. Which is what led to their becoming lovers – and what led to their breakup when his jealous side flared.
Tis a rainy day here in the mountains, but that’s a good thing because it’s month end and I have much to do. So I thought I’d start this rainy day indoors with a little creative procrastination. (shrug)
A while back I posted a brain spill involving a moon base, just to entertain you a bit – by teasing me about it if nothing else. A brain spill is a snippet of a story, or potential story. But reaction was good and I decided to explore developing the story further. To do that, I needed information about the moon; its composition, its history, and a reason that mankind may want to have a presence there at all; other than setting records for the longest home run hit ever.
Of course I could just make up a bunch of stuff – it IS fiction after all – but I like to stay as close to truth as I can in fiction. One of the questions I had is, “why does one side of the moon always face the Earth?” I theorized that perhaps the moon is not round, but lopsided, or egg shaped. The large end of the egg would pull harder toward the Earth’s gravity. I was pretty darn close! I’ve turned up a lot of amazing facts. Here are some of the more interesting study materials on the moon, it’s history and why it is the way it is. Continue reading “Mysteries of the Moon”
He sat staring at the small semi-automatic pistol laying on the kitchen table. He had been staring at it for a long time. Thinking. Deciding. He knew what needed to be done. The pain had to stop. Her pain had to stop. He hated what was happening to her, but he was powerless to prevent it.
He picked it up, a shiver ran up his arm and a small voice nagged at him in the back of his mind, “Wrong.” it said, “This is wrong.” Normally, he would agree. But life had taken a turn. She was suffering. He had to stop the suffering. He loved her, he had to help her.
“I wonder if this will hurt her.” He whispered as he fingered the gun, getting accustomed to the hard, coldness of it. “Not for long, then she will be better. No more pain. This is kindness.”
He pushed the tears and the uncertainty aside, stood up and walked out the front door. He marched up the forest path to her favorite place. She liked the serenity of the clearing in the deep woods and the tall, straight poplars, the birdsong. His feet crunched in the dry leaves, doubt welled, he pushed it back and marched on. It had to be done.
He rounded a bend and saw the lounge chair she liked to sit in and think.
The doors slid aside and Doctor Forrester followed Colonel Stryker off the lift.
“I am truly impressed, Colonel, with your base. It is absolutely amazing what can be done with enough tax payer dollars!”
The stern faced Colonel just nodded.
“I understand now why you were so adamant that we keep our distance when we set up our own base here on the moon. And I must say,” he smiled, “that I’m rather surprised that you not only took us in, but have been so open and forthcoming. I have truly enjoyed this tour.”
Stryker, a head taller than Forrester, trim with a military crew cut and steel gray eyes said, without emotion, “Leaving you there to die when your base was damaged, didn’t seem to be the thing to do, Doctor Forrester.”
“No, I would hope not. Although, frankly, I would not have been surprised if you had. But I did expect the lot of us to be squirreled away in some storage room. This tour was so unexpected!”
“Hmmm…” Nodded Styker.
“Especially since you are obviously not happy about having my team and I here. But I assure you Colonel, your secrets are safe with me. I shall never speak of them with anyone.”