Silent Running

By Abigail Falanga

“Idiots!” Admiral Paul Seward exploded as soon as the doors closed behind him, cutting off the hearing chamber with its three transparent sides showing a stunning starfield view and its dreary bureaucratic interior.

His navigator, who had waited outside, jumped straight. “Sir?”

“Turning down humans, the most promising Lightwarden candidates, just when we’re in dire need of recruits.”

“Couldn’t get them to change their minds?” Julius asked, speeding to keep up with Paul’s strides.

“Pretty sure they don’t have minds to change.”

Paul had rebuilt the Lightwardens from the ground up and successfully fought at their head for more than thirty years. Even though he was one of only three earthling Lightwardens, he knew better than any that many humans possessed the required traits of bravery, kindness, and chivalry. As well as the almost preternatural dexterity and aim and unerring sense of direction inherent in the paired teams of warrior and navigator.

But though he had petitioned multiple times, the unimaginative, underinformed magistrate board simply would not allow human recruiting. The Atormovar Accords prohibited drawing members of the intergalactic peacekeeping force from such isolated, immature societies.

The worst jab, however, was their contention that humans were not strong enough. They had not even been able to keep their own planet of Earth from being invaded and occupied.

If the Lightwardens had been allowed to interfere, that would have turned out differently, and the reminder that Paul had been forced to sit the battle out still rankled.

But the Atormovar Accords also prohibited recruiting from existing military institutions, and it was those institutions which had failed to stop the invasion of Earth. Paul knew, if no one else did, how many able and qualified civilians existed among humanity. There was every reason to quietly draw a few to strengthen the ranks of the Lightwardens.

“Maybe we could prove that humans would be good recruits.” Julius put out a claw to stop him before they reached the busier concourse. “Just got this report of another scuvhit storm headed Earth’s way.”

Paul examined the report, which gleamed and danced above Julius’s holographic tablet. Scuhvits were living space junk—hard as meteors on the outside, encasing noxious neon-glowing tentacled interiors. They whiplashed with gravity slingshots in herds through empty space, feeding ferociously on lifeforms where they made planetfall. “Did you scramble the fighters?”

Julius, a six-foot green reptilian whose real name was roughly grumble-spit-hiss and yet answered to this more pronounceable nickname, grinned with all his pointy teeth. “I have a better idea. You and I take ’em ourselves. And let one through, to land on Earth.”

“That’s crazy!”

“Yes.”

“And reckless,” Paul tried to convince himself.

“You always liked crazy and reckless.”

“Drop a scuvhit in front of a poor, unsuspecting soul, see what happens.” A reluctant smile creased Paul’s face. “I’m liking it!”

“I thought you said it impacted somewhere inhabited!” Paul crashed through a scrubby juniper tree on a dark hillside.

They had landed their fighter ship in a mountain valley somewhere in Texas, though it was so deserted it may as well have been Mars.

“One can’t exactly aim scuvhits.” Julius huffed behind him. “And you’re the one who shot it off course. I detected technology—”

“There!” Paul pointed to a sudden flash of green-and-gold light and took the rest of the slope at a run as screams shook the night.

He took in details as he and Julius charged past. A crashed vehicle. People—adults clutching children—inside or behind it, still shouting or sobbing. The neon-glow slime trail.

They caught up with the scuvhit near a cluster of houses—a small rural neighborhood. Its tentacles reached toward two small figures as they scrambled down through an outdoor cellar door.

“No!” Paul drew his pistol. “Not kids.”

“Wait—they may be just what we’re after,” Julius said. “They led the scuvhit away from their family. That’s brave.”

“You are crazy!”

“And right. Look around—this is inhabited.”

“I guess we didn’t want a scuvhit in the middle of a city.” Paul shot the house’s lock. “Or you. You don’t look exactly… human. No offense.”

“None taken. Except in implying that I would want to resemble your peculiar species.” He looked down his scaly proboscis. “How do we play this?”

“We step in if those kids look like they’re going to get hurt.”

They cleared the empty house and made for the kitchen door into the cellar, the unearthly shrieks of the meteorite-monster outside piercingly audible.

Then a voice quavered. “Why’d you bring us down here, Lexi? It’s gonna get in.”

Paul and Julius crept down the dimly lit stairs until they had a clear view of the cellar.

“My dad keeps a gun down here.” The girl was digging through a cabinet. “Somewhere.”

“I told you aliens were real! I told you. I told you.”

“Yup. You were right. Look over there.”

The boy dashed to the shelves she indicated and climbed up a chair to reach a box on the top. “This it?”

“Yeah. Quick—it’s getting in!”

“It’s locked!” Joe yelled just as the door gave way, and the scuvhit tumbled into the cellar.

“Joe!” Lexi shrieked, thrown down beneath its writhing fury.

The boy didn’t hesitate. He jumped down and attacked the scuvhit with the gun box itself without bothering to unlock it. He drove it back and struck with unerring aim at the monster’s pulsing heart.

It fell back and was still.

Then growled, began to rise…

And exploded in a multi-colored burst of laser energy into hard-edged fragments and glowing goo.

“That was still reckless.” Paul stepped into the sudden filthy stillness, holstering his pistol.

“Worked, didn’t it?” Julius surveyed the carnage, then flicked up a gooey morsel with his tongue. “Plus, now there’s delicious fresh scuvhit.”

Joe stared at them, mouth open, Lexi forgotten. “Who are you guys?”

“Admiral Paul Seward, commander of the Atormovar Protective Forces. Welcome to the Lightwarden Cadets, kids!” He rubbed his neck. “Pending approval.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Abigail Falanga may be found in New Mexico creating magic in many ways – with fabric, food, paper, music, and especially with words! She’s loved fantasy ever since playing out epic adventures of swords, fairies, and monsters with her siblings, and loved sci-fi since her dad’s stories around the dinner table. Besides sharing mad little stories on Havok, she is busily trying to launch approximately five hundred novels into the world. Some of them are even finished!

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