We are excited to welcome science fiction author, M. Pax to LQR this month. She has graciously shared her exciting interpretation of this month's freedom theme. Please help us show our appreciation by sharing the link to her story with your friends and family!
Imprisoned by a
mysterious alien enforcer, humanity’s last hope must battle for the right to a
future.
***
If Galloway didn’t let me go soon,
humanity would be lost, and the galaxy’s sentries would crown a less-deserving
victor. My breaths chafed, my pulse labored, and my eyelids throbbed. The days
passed by too long.
All the enhanced traits my
ancestors had endowed me with slipped away. To conserve what energy remained, I
knelt unmoving in a puddle of light leaking in from the top of the east wall,
watching the sliver dance on my wrists. Silver on silver.
The mulcer next door paced,
growling. I could smell its foul drool, hear it splashing to the ground. The
beast wanted to kill me. Time would beat it to the task. My vigor bled with every
heartbeat into the unyielding alloy beneath me.
The alien technology, or whatever
Galloway was, chose that moment to answer my plea. The wall in front of me
evaporated. I didn’t have to be told to run toward the portal— the transport to
the planet.
I had to fight the mulcer for a
future. Its huge jaws snapped at me. Striped and scaly, its enormous head
consisted mainly of teeth and eyes. Two bulbous pus-like irises sank every time
the mulcer opened its mouth. Its breath reeked like burnt leaves dipped in tar
left to molder in a steamy swamp then set on fire.
We raced for the portal to claim
the rights to the planet. Not willing to let my unborn heirs down, I dug in,
tapping into every souped-up trait that could help me triumph—speed, endurance,
increased lung capacity and blood flow, tenacity, and valor.
The beast inched ahead of me,
gliding along on the slime trail it shed. Thinking only of what failure
meant—never another chance—I sprinted toward the orange glowing sphere, eking
two steps in front of the mulcer. At that point, I leaped. Arms straight out,
body reaching, I dove into the portal.
In a nanosecond, I materialized on
humanity’s new world. Unfortunately the mulcer did, too. It pounced, jaws
straining for my throat. Swinging a foot, I kicked it in the teeth then jumped
for a tree branch. I kept hold, pulling up my legs, staying out of the mucler’s
reach. It grunted, bounding to the trunk, clumsily making its way up.
Its slow progress gifted a reprieve
and allowed me to survey what would be Earth Three. The ground rolled in burps
and swells. Lizardish beetles sang, furry eely beasts with wings squawked, and
some squid-like creature scurried under the brush. We rocked together, riding a
moss ocean that spanned the horizon in an unbroken prairie, a treasure trove
upon which my progeny would thrive.
My people had come to the stars to
start over and had succeeded once. We’d do so again. We were so much better
than the mulcers, the outcast army of an extinct race. They only knew how to
hunt and kill.
My enemy scrambled out on the
branch, teetering. I kicked at its pus eye. It roared, showering me with
malodor and slime. Its hold slipped, but before it fell, it sprang, wrapping
its ropey fingers around my neck, squeezing. Gravity added a wallop to our fight,
and with a thud we landed, the mucler on top. I dug at its eyelids, biting,
spitting. I punched and tore at it’s flesh.
From the sky a chime gonged,
gaining in volume until it struck a tone that rendered me motionless. The
mulcer, too. We froze in the throes of mutual murder.
Fuzzy tickles plucked at my brain,
intruding, shoving their way into my thoughts. My mind received a scrubbing, at
least it felt that way. Once I was thoroughly violated, an arc appeared above
the mulcer’s slobbering maw, pulsating, flickers sparking through its foamy
pink mist.
Two hammering heartbeats passed,
and it spoke. “I told Galloway to get rid of you by bringing you to me.” The
arc paused, scalding everything between my temples. “Round two of the contest
begins. Think why you deserve this world. Winner gets it.”
No way would the mulcer win.
Humanity had risen from a better foundation than genocide. Hope thumped, giving
me strength, and I recalled all I knew, singing the praises of my illustrious
forefathers. Humanity creates
civilizations, is highly intelligent, and can think beyond itself. We’ll make
the most of this beautiful planet.
I couldn’t hear what the mulcer
thought, but seconds later it screamed and jerked as if electrocuted by a
billion volts. The puddle that remained of it oozed into the hiccupping land.
My heart rate slowed, and I
grinned, preparing to set free the genetic sequences suspended in a sac in my
abdomen. The genetic material would use me to sprout and begin mankind anew. Thank you for choosing me.
“Humanity didn’t win. The rolling
ground beneath you did. It’s called an Arith.”
I couldn’t form a single thought,
at least none I understood.
“A race’s right to survive is not
absolute. Humans were ruled for extinction an epoch ago when Earth Two fell.
They had their second chance and blew it.”
But…
“Despite the outcome, you’re
allowed to stay.”
Me?
As the last human? What an honor.
“You’re not human. Your willingness
to sacrifice yourself for others earns you a place here if you let me erase
your faulty programming and dump the subpar genetic material you carry.”
I couldn’t bear the thought of
imprisonment on Galloway again. The arc heard me and shoved my thoughts aside
until I lay empty. I drank in all that the Arith was and watched it and the
planet mature. Without protest, the mossy thing gave its heart and vitality to
the advancement of new life. Nothing could be nobler, no being could ever have
higher purpose.
A slender purple creature hatched reminiscent of a
salamander with a long neck and limbs. It’s song vibrated my biomechanics into
smiles. I asked the Arith to mold me in its image, surrendering my silver body
and electronic nodes. Now I could live and die. I had free will, and I had
evolved.
M. Pax is author of the space adventure series The Backworlds, the urban fantasy series
The Rifters, plus other novels and
short stories. Fantasy, science fiction, and the weird beckons to her, and she
blames Oregon, a source of endless inspiration. She docents at Pine Mountain
Observatory in the summers as a star guide, has a cat with a crush on Mr.
Spock, and is slightly obsessed with Jane Austen. mpaxauthor.com
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