Vanguard Earth

Here's part four of my entries into the Short Story SmackDown. Once you've read my submission (which you can read through the link or just read down below), I highly recommend browsing through the entries of some of the other authors. There's some really great writing going on, and it's free to read!

"QUASARS WON'T REPLACE US! QUASARS WON'T REPLACE US! QUASARS WON'T REPLACE US!"

The chanting had been going on for over an hour. Jackbooted men in pink polo shirts, their hair meticulously coiffed, were marching through the streets in tight military formations. They carried large sticks and shields emblazoned with the symbolism of Vanguard Earth, the Earth First Sapiens-Globalist movement that had been gaining in political influence over the past eighteen months. For Apollo, it was the most interesting thing that he had ever seen.

Apollo was a refugee - a Quasar as the Earth First people pejoratively called him and his kind. His family had settled on Earth when Apollo was a youngling, fleeing from an interstellar conflict that had displaced billions of sentient beings. Amid growing isolationism and an ebbing political tide, Earth had reluctantly accepted a tiny fraction of those refugees. Apollo's father had told him the stories of the family's perilous escape, of the painfully delicate bureaucratic hurdles that they had needed to overcome, and of the difficulty of settling on an alien planet... but Apollo didn't remember any of what had happened. So far as he was concerned, he was an earthling. He had lived here his entire life. This was his planet. This was his culture. This was home.

Apollo watched with interest as the men in pink shirts pushed their way past counter-protesters, slamming people with their shields and bashing anyone in their way with their sticks. He had read about people like this on the Quantumnet, but he had never seen them in person. One of the men pushed past Apollo, grunting an obscenity and then moving on. Apollo was humanoid, virtually indistinguishable from the Homo sapiens that were native to Earth. In fact, few people new that Apollo was an alien, even among his closest friends. He wondered how the Sapiens-Globalists would react if they new that there was a Quasar in the crowd, just inches away.

Almost as soon as this thought passed through Apollo's mind, there was a scream from somewhere up the street. Instantly, the crowd began moving, shifting in a slow push toward the noise. Apollo fought to move out of the flow but was caught within the throng. The crush of the sweating human bodies was incredible. One scream multiplied into many, which were answered by angry shouts and animal-like howls. The chanting of the Sapiens-Globalists was suddenly drowned out by a cacophony of noise coming from both the marchers and the counter-protesters. Among the confusion, Apollo could pick out shouts of "Quasar!".

He fought through the crush, finally squeezing out into a small space that the counter-protesters were avoiding. He stumbled as he was ejected from the crowd, falling to his knees in a pool of hot blue liquid. In front of him, a half dozen Sapiens-Globalists were beating on a young man with their sticks and shields. Apollo held up his hands, covered in sticky cobalt hemolymph, suddenly realizing that the men were beating the life out of a Quasar. Without thinking, Apollo launched himself at the men, wedging himself between the Globalists and the Quasar.

"Stop!" he shouted, his voice barely cutting through the roar of the crowd.

"What are you? Some kind of Quasar lover?" one of the men spat. "Get the hell out of here, or we'll beat you too!"

"No!" Apollo said, bracing himself for a blow. "Leave this guy alone! He hasn't done anything to hurt you!" As Apollo spoke, he tried to look over the crowd, hoping to spot the Peace Force. He noticed the shining red helmets of several officers standing in a tight knot, watching the demonstration passively. "Hey!" Apollo yelled, waving his hands frantically. "Over here! Help us!"

The Peace Officers waved back at Apollo sarcastically.

"Those pigs aren't going to help you, Quasar lover," one of the Globalists laughed. "They hate you losers just as much as we do."

Apollo felt his stomach tighten up as the truth of the Globalist's words sank into his brain. He looked at the men as they circled him, preparing to pounce. The Quasar on on the ground was bleeding badly and wasn't moving. Apollo knew that once the Globalists hit him, once they saw him bleed blue and knew he was a Quasar, then they would probably beat him to death. He took a deep breath. If this was going to be the end, he wasn't going down without a fight.

But before the Globalists could move on him, there was a deafening crash followed by shrieks of terror. The crowd pushed in on where Apollo was, collapsing the small circle and shoving the Globalists past him in a wave of terrified bodies. Apollo threw his body over the bleeding Quasar as humans rushed past him, sometimes tripping over his body, other times running right over him. The scream of sirens tore through the clamor of the crowd, swirling through Apollo's head as his body was continuously kicked, tripped over, and trampled upon. He held tight to the other Quasar, unable to do anything else under the crush of people, his back and ribs burning with pain. A heavy silence settled over Apollo as his grasp on consciousness wavered. The vague sensation of a hand touched Apollo's shoulder, then another and another. He was lifted into the air where he floated weightlessly for what seemed like an eternity. I must be dead, he thought to himself. This is what it's like to be dead.

When Apollo opened his eyes again, he was in a white bed, in a white room. His mother was by his side. When she noticed that her son was awake, she cried out happily, throwing her arms around him.

"What... where am I?" he asked his mother.

"You're in the hospital," she told him. "You were almost trampled to death at that awful rally."

"I remember that part," Apollo said. Moving his mouth was painful. "But... how did I get here? There was an explosion or something. I don't really remember."

"There was... well, there was a terrorist attack the rally," his mother said. "The terrorist killed a woman and injured some of the other counter-protesters. That was the sound you heard. But I heard what you did, Apollo." She paused for a moment, her eyes welling with tears. "I heard that you saved that boy from those ugly Globalists. I'm so proud of you."

Apollo flushed, feeling awkward for being praised like this. "Anyone would have done it," he said. "I just... I don't understand why they are like that. What have we done to them? Why are humans like this?"

"I don't know, Apollo," his mother said. "I just don't know. Hatred is an awful thing."

Lumiuxx Kindle Edition Giveaway

This week (8/14-8/18) you can get the first book in the Psalms of the Apocalypse series for free on your Kindle. Click here to get a copy and don't forget to leave a 5-star review :)

Crump Cover Reveal

I've been working on a political satire piece based loosely on the short story "Six Minutes" and it's just about ready to publish (very possibly by Monday 8/14).

Here's a look at the cover, done by JW Schmidt, who also did the cover for "Shanghai Shuffle" (available for pre-order here).

I'm not going to put "Crump" up for pre-order, it's just going to get published straight away. I'll push out links to buy the book on Amazon through Twitter.  Stay tuned!

New English

Some flash fiction based on my observations of toddlers chatting with each other. Seeing as how English is an evolving language influenced (it seems) more by usage than precedent, I couldn't help but imagine a world where the English we speak today is no longer in vogue.

Sarah thumbed through the dog-eared novel that she had found in the free bin in the used book store, stopping at a random page. “Have you readed this?” she asked Danny. “It’s so cool!” 

“I don’t know why you like those old books,” Danny said, rolling her eyes. “They’re dumb. Millennial English is the worst. And we don’t talk like that anyway. Millennial English is so much more elegant.” 

Sarah ignored her friend, picking a short passage from the book and then reciting it out loud. “As he put down the shell, he drove it into the ground. The conch felt cool and salty against his palm, like the ocean had become a thing that he could hold in his hand. Without another word, he dove into the sea and swam from the shore… 

“Ugh! Stop it!” Danny snapped. “I can’t stand the sound of it. It doesn’t even make sense!” She snatched the book from Sarah’s hands and scanned the page. “Here, I’ll fix it: As he putted down the shell, he drived it into the ground. The conch feeled cool and salty against his palm, like the ocean haved become a thing that he could hold in his hand. Without another word, he dived into the sea and swimmed for the shore… There, I fixed it." 

Sarah plucked the old book from her friend’s hand. “Stop it. You ruin it when you readed it like that…” she paused for a moment, thinking about what she had said. “I mean ‘when you read it like that’,” she added with a smile. 

“Bleh,” Danny said, screwing up his face. “I don’t know why you like that old stuff so much. It sound ugly. Anyway, let’s go eat. I’m so hungry. I haven’t eated since this morning.” 

“That sound good,” Sarah said, shoving the novel into her backpack.

Upcoming Releases

The summer has really been flying past this year and it feels like I haven't been getting much done. But in fact, I've got a few new releases scheduled for late summer/early fall!

The first will be the third book in the POTA series, available for pre-order now and release (on Kindle) at the end of August.

The second book will be the start of a new series called Prisoners of War. This will be a super gritty military scifi series set in a future where mass incarceration is used to recruit soldiers for use global combat. I'm really excited about this series because I'll be dissecting a bunch of important social and political issues. Book one of the series, Shanghai Shuffle, is set to be released in late September but is available for pre-order now.

The third book will be the start of another new series called Black Star. With the Black Star books, I'm stepping away from the violent realism I've been doing in POTA and Prisoners of War to take a shot at a softer, hopefully funnier sort of science-fiction. Black Star will follow a bounty hunter, employed by the mutli-system conglomerate Starfield Corporation.

That's all for now. Stay tuned for more updates and don't be afraid to pre-order these books!