"The Smuggler" • by Eric Fomley

Cooper lifts the sandwich from the kitchen counter. His first attempt at making one is a far cry from mom’s, but it’ll have to do.

“What are you doing Coop?”

Cooper spins and hides the sandwich behind his back. Mom is in the doorway, arms crossed.

“What do you have?”

Cooper frowns, lowers his head, and reveals the sandwich in his hands. “I’m hungry. Can I have it?”

“We’re about to eat lunch in a little bit. You should have eaten more of your breakfast.”

She crosses the room and takes the sandwich.

“Can I have a snack?” Cooper asks.

“You have to wait, Coop. Go play. I’ll call you when it’s lunch time.”

“What about something small. It can be healthy!” He tries not to make a face when he thinks of the carrots in the fridge.

Mom shakes her head. “Lunch is soon.”

Cooper sighs and plods out of the kitchen. He’s putting on his shoes to go out back when he sees the bowl of peppermints sitting on the stand. He checks to make sure Mom has her back turned, grabs a handful, and stuffs them in his pocket.

He runs to the swing set in the backyard and kneels behind the slide. He pulls back the blanket he borrowed from mom’s room and checks on the little wrinkly pink creature with the three black eyes. He hasn’t told his parents about the small silver sphere that crashed in the backyard yesterday, or what he found inside. He doesn’t want his parents to tell him he can’t keep it.

Cooper takes the candy from his pocket and lays it next to the creature. It isn’t much, but it’ll have to do, until he can get more.

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Eric Fomley’s work has appeared in Daily Science Fiction, Galaxy’s Edge, Flame Tree Press, and The Black Library. You can read more of his work on his website at https://ericfomley.com or buy him a coffee in exchange for a story at https://ko-fi.com/ericfomley. 

 

 

 

 

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This month’s Pete Wood Challenge was to write a 200- to 300-word flash fiction SF/F story that plays off the idea of “Second Contact.”

The Pete Wood Challenge fiction contest is supported by the generosity of readers like you. If you like these kinds of stories and want to see more of them, please show it by clicking this link or the button below to make a donation today. All major credit cards are accepted, and all donations go directly towards playing the authors and artists who create the content that you’re enjoying on this site. Literally, all donations go straight into the PayPal account from which we pay our authors and artists. 

 

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"Working His Way Back to Her" • by Matt Krizan

V’ngln’shu frowned in confusion at the bearded, middle-aged man who answered the farmhouse’s front door. Had he entered the wrong coordinates in the ship’s matter transference array? But no, that familiar porch swing creaked on its chains, reminding him of quiet nights spent with Melissa, listening to the cicadas.

“Can I help you?” The man eyed V’ngln’shu’s jumpsuit, his abnormally long arms and legs.

“I’m looking for Melissa Richards?”

“No one here by that name.”

“She…lived here? Recently?”

“Well, I bought this place eight years ago from Frank and Diane Langmoor, who were here a few years before that.”

V’ngln’shu’s frown deepened. He knew the vagaries of FTL travel via singularity drive to the fleet and back meant time would’ve passed differently for Melissa, but ten-plus years to his three?

He thanked the man and turned away.

Through his retinal feed, V’ngln’shu accessed a wireless network. Melissa didn’t have much of a presence online—she’d always shied away from social media—but during his year spent convalescing in her care after the crash, he’d become adept at searching the web. His crawlers sifted through IRS and DMV databases and found an address. Another transfer put him on the porch of a quaint bungalow in a suburban neighborhood.

V’ngln’shu knocked on the door, his hearts pounding.

Melissa answered, her eyes widening, one hand clapping over her mouth. Her hair was shorter, darker, her once-smooth skin creased by lines around her eyes and mouth.

“Vin?”

“Hi.” He smiled. “Sorry I’m late.”

Before Melissa could respond, a voice called out, “Who is it, Mom?”

A teenage girl appeared in the doorway—a younger version of Melissa, only taller and thinner, with abnormally long arms and legs.

Melissa placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Vin, there’s someone I’d like you to meet…”

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Matt Krizan is a former certified public accountant who writes from his home in Royal Oak, Michigan. His short fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in various publications, including Daily Science Fiction, Martian Magazine, and Dark Moments. Find him online at mattkrizan.com and on Twitter as @MattKrizan.

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This month’s Pete Wood Challenge was to write a 200- to 300-word flash fiction SF/F story that plays off the idea of “Second Contact.”

The Pete Wood Challenge fiction contest is supported by the generosity of readers like you. If you like these kinds of stories and want to see more of them, please show it by clicking this link or the button below to make a donation today. All major credit cards are accepted, and all donations go directly towards playing the authors and artists who create the content that you’re enjoying on this site. Literally, all donations go straight into the PayPal account from which we pay our authors and artists. 

 

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“Terms of Agreement” • by Bob McHugh

 

Captain Olivia warped back into her mangled ship, flashing thumbs up to her crew of five.

“They’ll take us aboard. The captain, Gremulon, is a straight shooter. They’re low on rations, but one large meal should last us the two-day trek to the closest rest stop. For their troubles, I agreed to foot the bill for their re-inventory.”

“Amazing.” Rhonda’s shoulders slackened for the first time. Relief.

“Oh, and they promised not to eat us,” Olivia added.

“You asked him that?” Derrick raised his eyebrows for effect.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t alienate an ally.”

“He volunteered that information? That’s worse. The only time you explicitly promise not to do something is when you intend to do it.” Derrick surveyed the others in search of approval. Classic coward.

“The Aperticians know what people think of them, but they only consume cell-generated human meat, same as us.”

“Limited rations, big meal, definitely won’t eat us—read between the lines, Captain,” Derrick said.

“Have I ever had a bad read on someone? Ever?” Derrick could undermine her decision-making, but not her judgment. She understood people and recognized tells. As she scanned her crew, their averted eyes and coughs said everything. “Fine. I’ll clarify.”

¤

“I never said that.” Captain Gremulon’s steady tone suggested he wasn’t lying.

“With all due respect, I have it in my log: ‘You have my word that we will not eat you,’” Olivia cited.

“I promised not to eat you, Captain to Captain. I was upfront about our rations. As is standard, the decision is yours to select the volunteer or remain impartial. Should you choose the latter, you won’t be in consideration.”

“I apologize for the miscommunication. I’ll reconvene with my crew and get back to you.”

This complicated her decision, but only slightly.

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Bob McHugh is a Boston-based writer and father of two; he is immensely grateful to be both of those things. He is the semi-proud recipient of an MFA in Creative Writing from Emerson College. His work has appeared in Daily Science Fiction and several anthologies. Follow him @sentientletter on Twitter.

 

 

 

 

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This month’s Pete Wood Challenge was to write a 200- to 300-word flash fiction SF/F story that plays off the idea of “Second Contact.”

The Pete Wood Challenge fiction contest is supported by the generosity of readers like you. If you like these kinds of stories and want to see more of them, please show it by clicking this link or the button below to make a donation today. All major credit cards are accepted, and all donations go directly towards playing the authors and artists who create the content that you’re enjoying on this site. Literally, all donations go straight into the PayPal account from which we pay our authors and artists. 

 

 

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“To Boldly Go” • by Carol Scheina

 

Destructi-droids were activated when first contact didn’t go well, yet Destroyer-1 still waited, dust forming webbed patterns over its dull black exterior.

How it wanted to slip across galaxies like the investi-droids. The Builders dispersed hundreds of them to meet and study new life while Destroyer-1 counted dust specks.

Destroyer-1 had waited its whole life to get out and blow up a planet. 

The day came when the Builders dusted off Destroyer-1, muttering about a shortage of investi-droids. They screwed lumps of sensors to its shell and sent Destroyer-1 on a trans- galactic hop to a planet called Earth. The instructions: Observe only. Maintain camouflage shield. Report back threats.

It wasn’t blowing up a planet, but at least it was out.

Destroyer-1 flew across blue skies, stretching its new sensors. Everywhere, it picked up video and audio waves. Curious, the droid streamed the signals onto its screen.

Thirty minutes into the “television show,” all sensors were diverted to stream more. Destroyer-1 binged 131 hours of a show depicting Earth’s lifeforms exploring new corners of space. The destructi-droid could skim across galaxies like investi-droids.

What’s more, it could go backward in time. It could visit an “office.”

The droid had just started a show with a sentient spaceship when the Builders sent a message: “Any threats?”

“No.” Destroyer-1 wanted to add that the technology here was fantastic but was cut off by a return order.

Destroyer-1 snagged a few supplies before traveling back into storage. It rather hoped never to return to Earth. What if it was asked to blow up the planet? That would not be optimal at all. After all, it was building its very own trans-galactic video streaming modification complete with high-definition screen. No more counting dust specks. New episodes were coming out on the next Earth Friday.

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Carol Scheina is a deaf speculative fiction author from the Northern Virginia region. Many of her stories were thought up while sitting in local traffic, resulting in tales that have appeared in Cossmass Infinities, Daily Science Fiction, Escape Pod, and other publications. You can find more of her work at carolscheina.wordpress.com.

 

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This month’s Pete Wood Challenge was to write a 200- to 300-word flash fiction SF/F story that plays off the idea of “Second Contact.”

The Pete Wood Challenge fiction contest is supported by the generosity of readers like you. If you like these kinds of stories and want to see more of them, please show it by clicking this link or the button below to make a donation today. All major credit cards are accepted, and all donations go directly towards playing the authors and artists who create the content that you’re enjoying on this site. Literally, all donations go straight into the PayPal account from which we pay our authors and artists. 

 

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