《Short Stories From Arcadia》


 BONUS

    Lucien looked down at his report:


    BIOLOGICAL THREAT LEVEL: HIGH


    BIOLOGICAL SUITABILITY FOR HUMANS: MEDIUM


    RAW RESOURCE LEVELS: EXTREMELY HIGH


    It was the reason he was here, the French-owned mining corporation Maison was wanting to settle a mining colony on the planet. He frowned thinking back to the conversation he just had with the director for fringe-world surveying in Maison. Two million universal credits, that was what they were offering. That and a new ship, it was an extremely attractive offer, he could go anywhere with it, live a life of luxury. Perhaps he could go settle down in the Asian conglomerate, no too crowded.


    Steeling himself he dove into the metadata of the report, changing values and editing where necessary.


    it''s worth it, besides I''ve been screwed so many times, I''m owed this.


    Below him the world slowly spun on its axis, lit by the twin binary stars in this system it was a brilliant green marble floating in the cosmos. The stars light was filtered by Lucien''s ships windows, its watered down light drifting onto the newly compiled report.


    BIOLOGICAL THREAT LEVEL: LOW


    <hr>


    Six Months later.


    Lucien was halfway through his beer when the bartender upped the volume on the TV. A holographic representation of a career woman spoke with a grave voice.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.  "We are coming live from the orbit of New Lyon, reports are unclear but it seems as though the Colony is under attack... information if conflicting, but one thing is clear, there have been fatalities"


    shit


    A stern military type in the traditional Red''s, white''s and Blue''s of the old French Navy flickered into focus, the woman continued. "I''ve just been told that Contre-Amiral Ga?l is about to give a brief, we go now to HMS Temeraire."


    "We do not yet know the full details, there maybe survivors but New Lyon will be abandoned. We have brave men and woman on the ground now searching for survivors, we wi-" The uniformed man cut off suddenly as alarms blared on the deck of the Temeraire. A loud announcement voice sounded over the alarm.


    "GROUND TROOPS UNDER ATTACK, PLEASE REPORT TO STATIONS, THIS IS NOT A DRILL... GROUND TROOPS UND-" The feed from the ship cut off with the news reporter coming back into view, visibly shaken she pulled her self together before launching back into the report.


    Lucien stopped listening, what if they analysed the report? Had he done enough to hide his tampering, did Maison keep attribution towards him as a scapegoat? A million thoughts rushed through his mind.


    He stood up abruptly, stool screeching its protest, he was still in French-controlled space. No one in the bar paid him any heed as he rushed to the exit.


    It was a thirty-minute cab ride to the docks, it felt like a lifetime. Soon enough the sprawling docks came into view, paying the cabby he strode to the docking elevator and punched in his docking number and keycard.


    DENIED.


    Sirens wailed in the distance.

 HURT

    Colonel Peter Mikhailovich Pushkin squinted at the purple light, he hated it. They did as well, which is why the room was filled with the lurid light. The room smelled sharply of citrus. Behind him his superior stalked the cold steel chair Peter sat on.


    "Colonel, must I remind you of your loyalties." The voice was low and hard. "Or have you forgotten the reason we are here." There was no question in his superiors'' voice. "If you do not complete the task you have been assigned Colonel, you and your family will face some measure of discomfort."


    Peter looked down as the man rounded the chair. The floor was stained, the blotches indistinct in the purple haze. The man''s shoes were a direct contrast to the mottled floor.


    "Sir, why does it have to be me?


    "All men must go through adversity. If I am to know your worth Colonel, you must face that adversity, And I will know your worth."


    "Sir"


    His Superior continued round the chair, his steps sounding hard on the steel floor "Why did you kill it, Colonel?"


    "Sir, it was no longer responding."This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    "Were you told to end the procedure?"


    "Sir, no. Bu-"


    The door at the far end of the room opened, cutting Peter off. The light beyond the room was a pale yellow, the two colours melding together into a sickening soup. A tall woman strode in, clipboard in hand, hair pinned tightly back. "Sir, the next subject is ready. Shall we bring it in?" Reacting to a signal unseen by Peter the woman spun on her heels and strode out, the door closing behind her.


    "The work we do here is important Colonel, do not forget that", Peter heard a door behind him slide open as his superior left the room, leaving him alone in the hot, purple-lit steal room.


    Peter had been given this assignment after being awarded the Gold Star for gallantry during the battle for Zullen. A chance to serve the Federation he had been told, how this served the Federation Peter did not know. Peters fists clenched at his sides, knuckles bleached white he trembled, he fought back the moisture that threatened his eyes. I mustn''t show weakness, I have to be strong, think of Anna, do it for her.


    The door in front of him swung open, the prim woman reappearing. Taking a deep breath Peter stood, relaxing his hands at his side. Behind the woman was a long steel tray, holding the new specimen. Its single compound eye a deep purple-grey as it tried to siphon out the light, flickered towards him, the edges of its eye puckered, a fear response. It was short for its species, perhaps 4ft. Peter looked away from the creature to a second table that was being wheeled in, filled with wicked tools and machinery. Soon Peter was left alone in the room with the creature, from its mouthpiece a mournful low luting emanated, filling the room.


    Lord forgive me.

 EASY

    Adedayo held down the trigger, his mark 2 Jeongsin cannon unleashed a barrage onto the flank of the British Destroyer. Each round piercing the plasta-steel hull into the compartments beneath, a line of small explosions pluming in the wake of his onslaught. Their shields were useless against conventional projectiles. Adedayo expertly weaved his Suzume fighter, assisted by his onboard combat AI, through the clouds of shrapnel launched from the Destroyers point defense flak cannons.


    Easy he thought.


    All around him the battle raged in a maelstrom, the Commonwealth of Northern African States was fighting a desperate defense against the United Interstellar Kingdom. The British were after the asteroid field in this system. The field was rich enough in heavy metals that it didn''t matter that it was in Commonwealth controlled space.


    Adedayo''s console lit up flashing orange, the light casting a foreboding shade to his honeymoon photos, he had picked up a tail. His combat AI micro maneuvered his Suzume. His sensors highlighting the storm of rounds thrown out from the fighter behind him, giving small adjustments to the flight path to avoid the hailstorm. The British fighter was faster than his Suzume and quickly gaining ground. The Suzume mass produced in the Asian conglomerate was a staple for most navies, but it didn''t compare to the UIK developed fighter.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Cursing, Adedayo pulled his ship up hard, his anti-G seat went ridged soaking up most of the acceleration. Another stream of rounds flickered past. A sharp bank left before shunting the ships nose down, his anti-G seat creaking, Adedayo''s vision blurred. The fighter followed expertly staying on his tail, losing a volley. His ship shook violently, the console display flashing red on his right wing, the British pilot had scored a hit, rendering one his flight stabilisers useless.


    He couldn''t outfly this guy, not with a stabiliser down and with an older ship. Thinking quickly Adedayo activated his front thrusters at max throttle, his entire body lurched forward, the anti-G seat shrieking its protest as the ship decelerated. The tailing fighter zipped past Adedayo who''s vision was just returning. Yanking the thrusters again his body slammed back, bile forming at the back of his throat as he fought to remain conscious. Through his misty red vision assisted by the combat AI, he sprayed the ship in front of him, tracers flickering through space. His anti-G chair grated under the extreme forces placed upon it, as its old fixtures strained to hold it in place, lazy welding slowly sloughed as the seat popped.


    <hr>


    Hugh brought his Kestrel round, twisting through space performing a 180 flip, to face the oncoming fighter.


    The Bastard thought he could do me.


    Hugh''s Kestrel''s twin destructors lit up the oncoming fighter. Solid Uranium projectiles rent the Commonwealth ship, it''s metal twisted and tortured, tore from its hull.


    Easy.

 HIDE

    Belle skipped through the rocky crags just North of her parent''s cabin, the sun gently warming the morning air, laughing as she went. The braid her mum had weaved earlier, loosened from her gay wanderings threatening to unravel. Belle did not care if her braid came undone, or if she scuffed her shoes, she was hunting Peekers!


    As she went, small flowers rustled their leaves in protest at her passing, their single red flower tracking the blithe trespasser. Belle ignored them, Senti''s were boring, they didn''t like to hide the way Peekers did!


    Climbing a small bluff, ripping a ladder in her tights, she yelped in excitement. There a few meters away, was a Peeker! Nestled in a crack as it swayed happily in the morning sun, it''s long yellow stem proudly holding forth a great pink flower. The flower rotated on it''s stem to face her and waited.


    Belle froze, she had lost the element of surprise! oh bother, she chided herself. But she was an expert Peeker hunter, she could do this.


    Slowly she edged back down the bluff, careful so as not to startle her prey. Once below the crest she crept around the lip, she would sneak up on it, like her tabby cat - teddy, back at home. When she was satisfied with the distance, she poked her head up ever so slowly, so she could peer over the edge. It was still there, flower raised to the sun, unaware that Belle still stalked it, like her dad stalked the Spine-Deer. She pulled out her lasso-net from it''s holster, like a warrior from her bedtime stories, she held it''s handle aloft. She just had to get the net over the Peeker''s flower and the lasso would come shut.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Taking a step, a small rock came loose and tumbled down in a clatter, the flower whipped round to stare at the commotion before closing into a petaled fist and ducking back into it''s crack.


    "Nooo." Belle wailed, she had blown it, she stamped her feet in frustration. But no, Belle the great Peeker hunter wouldn''t give up that easily. She cradled her lasso-net and gently sat down on a rock facing the small crack, I''ll wait here, a great hunter is patient. She thought, reminding herself of what her father had told her.


    She didn''t have to wait long, the Peeker climbed tentatively from it''s hiding hole, slowly unfurling it''s flower as it quested around. Happy that the interloper had gone on its way, the Peeker stretched to it''s full height and resumed sunning itself.


    Flashing a toothy grin, Belle ever so carefully raised from her perch, lasso-net in hand she lunged. The net landed on-top of the flower''s head, tightening automatically around it''s stem, the Peeker''s flower clamped shut and attempted to plunge back into it''s hole. Belle heroically held onto the lasso-net, heaving the Peeker from it''s hiding place, it''s long yellow stem wriggled indignantly. Belle held her prize triumphantly above her head.


    "You can''t hide from Belle the mighty Peeker hunter!" she said, golden braid all a mess, shining in the morning sun.