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Been working on this on and off for a while, enjoy!
You can even see them in the daylight now. Fat gold blobs, pin-bright against the blue of the sky, a couple of degrees up and to the right of the moon. You stare up at them as you wait for her to answer the door.
She answers and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Mark! Come on, quick, quick!” as she ushers you in and up the stairs.
“Have I missed anything?” you say.
“Nothing,” she says “apart from a lot of speeches. Did you get the tube?”
“Biked it.”
“Busy?”
“Deserted. Literally.”
You glance around as she shows you into the living room and points at the TV. “I’m just going to the loo. Tell me if anything exciting happens.”
You settle onto the sofa and try to relax. The screen is showing a montage - a crudely-scrawled sign reading “WELCOME” hanging from the Golden Gate Bridge, a street party in Moscow, drunk people swimming in the Seine wearing lobster hats - and over the top, a man is talking.
“-even now, few people can believe the events of the past three months. Most assumed the Aquilans would be hostile, that they crossed this gulf for war, and that this war would be humanity’s greatest challenge. They brought a challenge, this is true; but the challenge was to accept them, to bridge the mental gulf as-”
Joanna shouts from the toilet. “It was funny before; they showed one of them on the beach in Cape Town, swimming. It was like this massive lobster thing covered in jewellery, everyone staring. The president looked so uncomfortable! Didn’t know what to do.”
“Good job it wasn’t in Australia. They’d have popped the poor thing on the barbecue.”
“Haaa!” Her laughter is short and bright and you remember why you like her so much. Back on the television, the image has changed to a shot of the sun filling up half the screen. The sound is still the secretary general’s speech. You’re not really listening, and you wonder how such a momentous event can seem so dull. An announcer cuts in.
“-images you’re looking at now come from the Aquilans’ own faster-than-light feed. Normally, there would be a delay of eight minutes for radio transmissions; this is live, and we believe the ceremony is about to-”
You hear the toilet flush and Joanna jumps onto the sofa next to you, not quite close enough to put your arm around her.
“Aquilans. Funny, they don’t look like eagles,” she says.
“Aquila’s the part of the sky they came from, the constellation. We can’t say their real names without a throat full of water.”
“I know.”
“There was a big old cluster of supernovas in Aquila in the seventies. First time we'd ever seen something like that. Didn’t know that, did you?”
She laughs, and hits your arm playfully.
“Stick around kid,” you say, “it may not be much fun, but it sure is educational.”
You think back to the Aquilans’ first arrival in Sol- those massive gold starships smashing through a wormhole just out from Jupiter, huge clouds of exotic matter lighting up the night sky. You remember the panic, the rush to arms, the assumption that they came to conquer...
...followed by the slow realisation that they were fleeing war rather than bringing it.
The screen pans right and is now showing the Aquilans’ flagship, hanging encrusted with detail in the burning light of Sol.
“It’s amazing. An entire fleet of ships, coated with gold. If nothing else, they're pretty flashy creatures. Gold only comes from supernovas, did you know that?”
“Fascinating, professor.” She grins, slyly, and you’re possessed with a powerful urge to kiss her, there and then. This time you’ll do it. This time...
On the television, the image has cut to a BBC anchor. "-in just a few short moments, the Aquilan shoal-mother will launch the tiny gold satellite that will seal the union between our two species, that will complete the trade- our raw materials for their knowledge-”
You remember seeing the news reports, the telling of the Aquilans' story; their flight from an implacable Threat, a war that they were losing. They fled out here to the rim of the galaxy, to re-group and to re-arm. We were in no danger, they assured us; the Threat only went after the big fish. So to speak.
“-already, the benefits of Aquilan technology are filtering into everyday life. All they have asked in return is iron; vast quantities of iron to forge steel to build their starships and weapons. Our asteroid belt is rich-”
All of a sudden the image drops out, cuts to static, then back to the studio.
Joanna leans forward. “What’s this?”
“-to have lost the feed. On playback, the image shows the satellite launching towards the sun-”
In an instant something in your mind opens up and you feel cold in your belly, rising to your throat. A taste of iron.
The Aquilans’ ships, covered in millions of tonnes of gold.
“-Aquilan ships have disappeared from orbit-”
The staggered explosions coreward, from Aquila thirty years ago.
“-nical hitch, this technology is very new, you must realise-”
With a jolt you realise what is happening and in the same moment you turn to Joanna and kiss her roughly and hungrily. After a second or two, her hands rise and stroke across your back, gently but with force. You stop and look at her. She smiles, stunned.
“Mark! I never knew you... felt this way!”
You smile, say nothing.
“I don’t know what to say.” she says.
“Unless it’s ‘stop’, don’t say anything,” and you kiss her again, this time longer.
You break off, and she runs her hand over your cheek. “Of all the times. Don’t you want to watch the ceremony?”
“I’ll be quick.”
“Not too quick, I hope.”
You think about what the Aquilans are doing out there, where they intend to get their iron. Their gold came from the supernovas in Aquila. Our sun is too small to hold heavy elements like gold.
The heaviest element the sun has in its core is iron.
You run your hand down Joanna’s side and she sighs. So do you. “No more than eight minutes, I promise.”
You can even see them in the daylight now. Fat gold blobs, pin-bright against the blue of the sky, a couple of degrees up and to the right of the moon. You stare up at them as you wait for her to answer the door.
She answers and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Mark! Come on, quick, quick!” as she ushers you in and up the stairs.
“Have I missed anything?” you say.
“Nothing,” she says “apart from a lot of speeches. Did you get the tube?”
“Biked it.”
“Busy?”
“Deserted. Literally.”
You glance around as she shows you into the living room and points at the TV. “I’m just going to the loo. Tell me if anything exciting happens.”
You settle onto the sofa and try to relax. The screen is showing a montage - a crudely-scrawled sign reading “WELCOME” hanging from the Golden Gate Bridge, a street party in Moscow, drunk people swimming in the Seine wearing lobster hats - and over the top, a man is talking.
“-even now, few people can believe the events of the past three months. Most assumed the Aquilans would be hostile, that they crossed this gulf for war, and that this war would be humanity’s greatest challenge. They brought a challenge, this is true; but the challenge was to accept them, to bridge the mental gulf as-”
Joanna shouts from the toilet. “It was funny before; they showed one of them on the beach in Cape Town, swimming. It was like this massive lobster thing covered in jewellery, everyone staring. The president looked so uncomfortable! Didn’t know what to do.”
“Good job it wasn’t in Australia. They’d have popped the poor thing on the barbecue.”
“Haaa!” Her laughter is short and bright and you remember why you like her so much. Back on the television, the image has changed to a shot of the sun filling up half the screen. The sound is still the secretary general’s speech. You’re not really listening, and you wonder how such a momentous event can seem so dull. An announcer cuts in.
“-images you’re looking at now come from the Aquilans’ own faster-than-light feed. Normally, there would be a delay of eight minutes for radio transmissions; this is live, and we believe the ceremony is about to-”
You hear the toilet flush and Joanna jumps onto the sofa next to you, not quite close enough to put your arm around her.
“Aquilans. Funny, they don’t look like eagles,” she says.
“Aquila’s the part of the sky they came from, the constellation. We can’t say their real names without a throat full of water.”
“I know.”
“There was a big old cluster of supernovas in Aquila in the seventies. First time we'd ever seen something like that. Didn’t know that, did you?”
She laughs, and hits your arm playfully.
“Stick around kid,” you say, “it may not be much fun, but it sure is educational.”
You think back to the Aquilans’ first arrival in Sol- those massive gold starships smashing through a wormhole just out from Jupiter, huge clouds of exotic matter lighting up the night sky. You remember the panic, the rush to arms, the assumption that they came to conquer...
...followed by the slow realisation that they were fleeing war rather than bringing it.
The screen pans right and is now showing the Aquilans’ flagship, hanging encrusted with detail in the burning light of Sol.
“It’s amazing. An entire fleet of ships, coated with gold. If nothing else, they're pretty flashy creatures. Gold only comes from supernovas, did you know that?”
“Fascinating, professor.” She grins, slyly, and you’re possessed with a powerful urge to kiss her, there and then. This time you’ll do it. This time...
On the television, the image has cut to a BBC anchor. "-in just a few short moments, the Aquilan shoal-mother will launch the tiny gold satellite that will seal the union between our two species, that will complete the trade- our raw materials for their knowledge-”
You remember seeing the news reports, the telling of the Aquilans' story; their flight from an implacable Threat, a war that they were losing. They fled out here to the rim of the galaxy, to re-group and to re-arm. We were in no danger, they assured us; the Threat only went after the big fish. So to speak.
“-already, the benefits of Aquilan technology are filtering into everyday life. All they have asked in return is iron; vast quantities of iron to forge steel to build their starships and weapons. Our asteroid belt is rich-”
All of a sudden the image drops out, cuts to static, then back to the studio.
Joanna leans forward. “What’s this?”
“-to have lost the feed. On playback, the image shows the satellite launching towards the sun-”
In an instant something in your mind opens up and you feel cold in your belly, rising to your throat. A taste of iron.
The Aquilans’ ships, covered in millions of tonnes of gold.
“-Aquilan ships have disappeared from orbit-”
The staggered explosions coreward, from Aquila thirty years ago.
“-nical hitch, this technology is very new, you must realise-”
With a jolt you realise what is happening and in the same moment you turn to Joanna and kiss her roughly and hungrily. After a second or two, her hands rise and stroke across your back, gently but with force. You stop and look at her. She smiles, stunned.
“Mark! I never knew you... felt this way!”
You smile, say nothing.
“I don’t know what to say.” she says.
“Unless it’s ‘stop’, don’t say anything,” and you kiss her again, this time longer.
You break off, and she runs her hand over your cheek. “Of all the times. Don’t you want to watch the ceremony?”
“I’ll be quick.”
“Not too quick, I hope.”
You think about what the Aquilans are doing out there, where they intend to get their iron. Their gold came from the supernovas in Aquila. Our sun is too small to hold heavy elements like gold.
The heaviest element the sun has in its core is iron.
You run your hand down Joanna’s side and she sighs. So do you. “No more than eight minutes, I promise.”
Yey! Another great story wins GAD.
I'm hoping this might send some traffic this way...
I'm hoping this might send some traffic this way...
Good. Reminds me of something I read a long time ago, but can't remember what.
If I had any critisism it does sound like a small part of a larger story, it could quite easily be doubled in size. More description of the ships etc as well. Other than that, it was an interesting little story.
If I had any critisism it does sound like a small part of a larger story, it could quite easily be doubled in size. More description of the ships etc as well. Other than that, it was an interesting little story.
I've never read a Sci-Fi story on here before. I think the ending could have been refined a bit, but I like it a lot. Well done.
Been working on this on and off for a while, enjoy!
You can even see them in the daylight now. Fat gold blobs, pin-bright against the blue of the sky, a couple of degrees up and to the right of the moon. You stare up at them as you wait for her to answer the door.
She answers and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Mark! Come on, quick, quick!” as she ushers you in and up the stairs.
“Have I missed anything?” you say.
“Nothing,” she says “apart from a lot of speeches. Did you get the tube?”
“Biked it.”
“Busy?”
“Deserted. Literally.”
You glance around as she shows you into the living room and points at the TV. “I’m just going to the loo. Tell me if anything exciting happens.”
You settle onto the sofa and try to relax. The screen is showing a montage - a crudely-scrawled sign reading “WELCOME” hanging from the Golden Gate Bridge, a street party in Moscow, drunk people swimming in the Seine wearing lobster hats - and over the top, a man is talking.
“-even now, few people can believe the events of the past three months. Most assumed the Aquilans would be hostile, that they crossed this gulf for war, and that this war would be humanity’s greatest challenge. They brought a challenge, this is true; but the challenge was to accept them, to bridge the mental gulf as-”
Joanna shouts from the toilet. “It was funny before; they showed one of them on the beach in Cape Town, swimming. It was like this massive lobster thing covered in jewellery, everyone staring. The president looked so uncomfortable! Didn’t know what to do.”
“Good job it wasn’t in Australia. They’d have popped the poor thing on the barbecue.”
“Haaa!” Her laughter is short and bright and you remember why you like her so much. Back on the television, the image has changed to a shot of the sun filling up half the screen. The sound is still the secretary general’s speech. You’re not really listening, and you wonder how such a momentous event can seem so dull. An announcer cuts in.
“-images you’re looking at now come from the Aquilans’ own faster-than-light feed. Normally, there would be a delay of eight minutes for radio transmissions; this is live, and we believe the ceremony is about to-”
You hear the toilet flush and Joanna jumps onto the sofa next to you, not quite close enough to put your arm around her.
“Aquilans. Funny, they don’t look like eagles,” she says.
“Aquila’s the part of the sky they came from, the constellation. We can’t say their real names without a throat full of water.”
“I know.”
“There was a big old cluster of supernovas in Aquila in the seventies. First time we'd ever seen something like that. Didn’t know that, did you?”
She laughs, and hits your arm playfully.
“Stick around kid,” you say, “it may not be much fun, but it sure is educational.”
You think back to the Aquilans’ first arrival in Sol- those massive gold starships smashing through a wormhole just out from Jupiter, huge clouds of exotic matter lighting up the night sky. You remember the panic, the rush to arms, the assumption that they came to conquer...
...followed by the slow realisation that they were fleeing war rather than bringing it.
The screen pans right and is now showing the Aquilans’ flagship, hanging encrusted with detail in the burning light of Sol.
“It’s amazing. An entire fleet of ships, coated with gold. If nothing else, they're pretty flashy creatures. Gold only comes from supernovas, did you know that?”
“Fascinating, professor.” She grins, slyly, and you’re possessed with a powerful urge to kiss her, there and then. This time you’ll do it. This time...
On the television, the image has cut to a BBC anchor. "-in just a few short moments, the Aquilan shoal-mother will launch the tiny gold satellite that will seal the union between our two species, that will complete the trade- our raw materials for their knowledge-”
You remember seeing the news reports, the telling of the Aquilans' story; their flight from an implacable Threat, a war that they were losing. They fled out here to the rim of the galaxy, to re-group and to re-arm. We were in no danger, they assured us; the Threat only went after the big fish. So to speak.
“-already, the benefits of Aquilan technology are filtering into everyday life. All they have asked in return is iron; vast quantities of iron to forge steel to build their starships and weapons. Our asteroid belt is rich-”
All of a sudden the image drops out, cuts to static, then back to the studio.
Joanna leans forward. “What’s this?”
“-to have lost the feed. On playback, the image shows the satellite launching towards the sun-”
In an instant something in your mind opens up and you feel cold in your belly, rising to your throat. A taste of iron.
The Aquilans’ ships, covered in millions of tonnes of gold.
“-Aquilan ships have disappeared from orbit-”
The staggered explosions coreward, from Aquila thirty years ago.
“-nical hitch, this technology is very new, you must realise-”
With a jolt you realise what is happening and in the same moment you turn to Joanna and kiss her roughly and hungrily. After a second or two, her hands rise and stroke across your back, gently but with force. You stop and look at her. She smiles, stunned.
“Mark! I never knew you... felt this way!”
You smile, say nothing.
“I don’t know what to say.” she says.
“Unless it’s ‘stop’, don’t say anything,” and you kiss her again, this time longer.
You break off, and she runs her hand over your cheek. “Of all the times. Don’t you want to watch the ceremony?”
“I’ll be quick.”
“Not too quick, I hope.”
You think about what the Aquilans are doing out there, where they intend to get their iron. Their gold came from the supernovas in Aquila. Our sun is too small to hold heavy elements like gold.
The heaviest element the sun has in its core is iron.
You run your hand down Joanna’s side and she sighs. So do you. “No more than eight minutes, I promise.”
You can even see them in the daylight now. Fat gold blobs, pin-bright against the blue of the sky, a couple of degrees up and to the right of the moon. You stare up at them as you wait for her to answer the door.
She answers and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Mark! Come on, quick, quick!” as she ushers you in and up the stairs.
“Have I missed anything?” you say.
“Nothing,” she says “apart from a lot of speeches. Did you get the tube?”
“Biked it.”
“Busy?”
“Deserted. Literally.”
You glance around as she shows you into the living room and points at the TV. “I’m just going to the loo. Tell me if anything exciting happens.”
You settle onto the sofa and try to relax. The screen is showing a montage - a crudely-scrawled sign reading “WELCOME” hanging from the Golden Gate Bridge, a street party in Moscow, drunk people swimming in the Seine wearing lobster hats - and over the top, a man is talking.
“-even now, few people can believe the events of the past three months. Most assumed the Aquilans would be hostile, that they crossed this gulf for war, and that this war would be humanity’s greatest challenge. They brought a challenge, this is true; but the challenge was to accept them, to bridge the mental gulf as-”
Joanna shouts from the toilet. “It was funny before; they showed one of them on the beach in Cape Town, swimming. It was like this massive lobster thing covered in jewellery, everyone staring. The president looked so uncomfortable! Didn’t know what to do.”
“Good job it wasn’t in Australia. They’d have popped the poor thing on the barbecue.”
“Haaa!” Her laughter is short and bright and you remember why you like her so much. Back on the television, the image has changed to a shot of the sun filling up half the screen. The sound is still the secretary general’s speech. You’re not really listening, and you wonder how such a momentous event can seem so dull. An announcer cuts in.
“-images you’re looking at now come from the Aquilans’ own faster-than-light feed. Normally, there would be a delay of eight minutes for radio transmissions; this is live, and we believe the ceremony is about to-”
You hear the toilet flush and Joanna jumps onto the sofa next to you, not quite close enough to put your arm around her.
“Aquilans. Funny, they don’t look like eagles,” she says.
“Aquila’s the part of the sky they came from, the constellation. We can’t say their real names without a throat full of water.”
“I know.”
“There was a big old cluster of supernovas in Aquila in the seventies. First time we'd ever seen something like that. Didn’t know that, did you?”
She laughs, and hits your arm playfully.
“Stick around kid,” you say, “it may not be much fun, but it sure is educational.”
You think back to the Aquilans’ first arrival in Sol- those massive gold starships smashing through a wormhole just out from Jupiter, huge clouds of exotic matter lighting up the night sky. You remember the panic, the rush to arms, the assumption that they came to conquer...
...followed by the slow realisation that they were fleeing war rather than bringing it.
The screen pans right and is now showing the Aquilans’ flagship, hanging encrusted with detail in the burning light of Sol.
“It’s amazing. An entire fleet of ships, coated with gold. If nothing else, they're pretty flashy creatures. Gold only comes from supernovas, did you know that?”
“Fascinating, professor.” She grins, slyly, and you’re possessed with a powerful urge to kiss her, there and then. This time you’ll do it. This time...
On the television, the image has cut to a BBC anchor. "-in just a few short moments, the Aquilan shoal-mother will launch the tiny gold satellite that will seal the union between our two species, that will complete the trade- our raw materials for their knowledge-”
You remember seeing the news reports, the telling of the Aquilans' story; their flight from an implacable Threat, a war that they were losing. They fled out here to the rim of the galaxy, to re-group and to re-arm. We were in no danger, they assured us; the Threat only went after the big fish. So to speak.
“-already, the benefits of Aquilan technology are filtering into everyday life. All they have asked in return is iron; vast quantities of iron to forge steel to build their starships and weapons. Our asteroid belt is rich-”
All of a sudden the image drops out, cuts to static, then back to the studio.
Joanna leans forward. “What’s this?”
“-to have lost the feed. On playback, the image shows the satellite launching towards the sun-”
In an instant something in your mind opens up and you feel cold in your belly, rising to your throat. A taste of iron.
The Aquilans’ ships, covered in millions of tonnes of gold.
“-Aquilan ships have disappeared from orbit-”
The staggered explosions coreward, from Aquila thirty years ago.
“-nical hitch, this technology is very new, you must realise-”
With a jolt you realise what is happening and in the same moment you turn to Joanna and kiss her roughly and hungrily. After a second or two, her hands rise and stroke across your back, gently but with force. You stop and look at her. She smiles, stunned.
“Mark! I never knew you... felt this way!”
You smile, say nothing.
“I don’t know what to say.” she says.
“Unless it’s ‘stop’, don’t say anything,” and you kiss her again, this time longer.
You break off, and she runs her hand over your cheek. “Of all the times. Don’t you want to watch the ceremony?”
“I’ll be quick.”
“Not too quick, I hope.”
You think about what the Aquilans are doing out there, where they intend to get their iron. Their gold came from the supernovas in Aquila. Our sun is too small to hold heavy elements like gold.
The heaviest element the sun has in its core is iron.
You run your hand down Joanna’s side and she sighs. So do you. “No more than eight minutes, I promise.”