#microfic

The piano had been sitting in the train station for years. No one knew when it had arrived there. After the station opened, everyone was sure of that. Felicity was not so sure. She'd been one of the first passengers to use the station, and she was pretty sure it had been there then. And then there was the way the transport authority kept talking about removing it every couple of years. Awould be promptly forgotten about. So she found herself sitting down at it, despite not knowing how to play. Just to satisfy her curiosity, she said to herself. 'Hello piano.' There was a rustle, and some sheet music blew across the platform and into her lap. 'I cant play, sorry.' Then she looked again, and saw the keys illustrated beneath the notes. She tried picking them out. Slowly a tune formed. A train arrived, and passengers alighted. One of them, an older woman, smiled at her. The weeks passed, and she made half and hour in her commute to see what would happen. Her playing improved. One day the older woman sat down next to her. "There used to be a music school here" she opened with. Felicity looked over to her. "Glenys. My mother was one of the last students. I've seen old photos of this piano." Felicity thought about this, and paused in her playing. "I think it is still teaching", she said softly. "Teachers are always waiting for the right student." "Do you know how it got here?" "I can guess. The music school burned down." "Oh. So..." "Best not ask, and just enjoy." #microfiction #tootfic #IAmWriting #GhostStory #microfic #SFF #Fantasy

Time travel is generally regarded as impossible. This is wrong. Time travel has been invented at least a hundred times since the discovery of electricity. So why don't more people know about it? Well, it is because there is a problem with it. And everyone who discovers it falls for the same trap. In order to travel in time, you need to be able to detach yourself from your local frame of reference. This is easier to achieve than you might think. Once detached, you can travel back and forth in time freely, safely contained in whatever life support system you have devised. You can even snatch small items from the static times, and collect air and water - all without reconnecting to a local frame. And that is the problem. Reconnecting. This requires much, much more energy than disconnecting. And the amount is exponentially affected by the amount you have travelled from your local frame. Not how far you currently are from your local frame, but how far you travelled from it in total. If you travel a single minute, you will need approximately twice the energy it took to disconnect. Two minutes, four times. Even if you travelled one forward and one back, that is still two minutes, and takes four times the energy. And it is proportional to the mass of the object being returned. Most time travellers try for at least ten years for their first trip. Exponential growth is a bastard of a thing if you are at the pointy end of it. On the positive side, those of us who have made this mistake can communicate and interact. There are lots of us, really, but none of us have the energy required to get home. Or anywhere but where we are. Outside of time. We have learned that we do not age out here. And we keep meeting new people. Maybe at some point we will find the people who can undo our mistakes. But it will probably take all the energy of our universe to do it. Delivering this message took nearly the effective output of two megatons of TNT. And it consists of a handful of electrons. I'm sure you can do the math. Please, do not follow us. #SF #SFF #SciFi #TimeTravel #microfiction #microfic #tootfic #IAmWriting

9 Months ago, Council Chambers, Horsebreeder Clan lands. Joyful Finder stood after the immediate business had been dealt with. Since taking to space Clan Council meetings had become longer, and she knew everyone was tired. But this had to be raised, and if not now, then at the end of another meeting - when again, everyone would be tired. "The Council hears Joyful Finder of the Horsebreeders" the chair announced. "Thank-you", she paused and straightened before continuing "Although it is unlikely that Seeker will obtain the information she has been tasked with locating in this first tour, we must make plans for what we will do when the home of the raiders is found." One of the elders from the Fisher Clan spoke up "I presume you have ideas, Joyful?" She shook her head "Unfortunately, no. I have been studying the histories brought back from the Scouts' archives. They are extensive, and go back to before humans took to the stars. There are even hints of when our ancestors were taken from the human homeworld." The same elder asked "But?" Joy sighed. "But in all that time they have recorded only two instances where an invader successfully replaced the rulers of a land without causing resentment that took generations to resolve. And frequently never did." The Forester Clan elder cleared his throat "So we do what they did." "If only it were that simple. In both cases the lands in question had made open war against a coalition of other nations. After initial successes, they were beaten back, and then crushed absolutely. The coalitions then spent vast sums rebuilding the nations they had just defeated." The Forester elder grunted "Seems simple enough then. It seems that things mostly match our circumstances." "Except for one thing. In both cases the lands were subject to totalitarian and authoritarian rulers. We know nothing of how the raiders are ruled or the structure of their society." "So why are you raising this?" that was the Fisher elder again. "I am hoping the Council is wiser than a single ex-Scout, and can find a solution." There was silence. Several minutes passed, and various elders whispered to each other. Then one of the elders of Weaver Clan stood. "You present a problem to us, but you have already given us the solution." Joy frowned in puzzlement "I have?" "Indeed. Our first course of action is to learn what their society is. And you are our best resource there." "I am?" "I move to the council that Joyful Finder be charged with recruiting and training a Scout force, whose task will be to learn all there is about the raider society." Around the chamber was a sound of agreement. Joy swayed a little in shock, and then asked "May I seek aid from the Scouts themselves in this?" The chair stood "That would be prudent. Despite the treaty." Joy sat heavily, feeling her years. There was a mail ship expected in a few weeks. She'd have to write to the sector commander. Convincingly. #SFF #SF #SciFi #microfic #tootfic #microfiction #IAmWriting #ShamanSpace

Mother of All. On approach to Divesen Station, two hours out. "Captain to the bridge" Engel opened his eyes, confused for a couple of seconds. Even after nine days, he was not used to being called 'Captain'. After a few moments, he got up and went forward. They were still at least two hours out, what was going on? Opening the bridge door, the rest of the skeleton crew were clustered around the sensor station. "Captain, over here!" called Alaine. He came over and looked at the radar display. There, in orbit above Mother of All, was a massive ship, easily over a hundred times the size of their tradeship. And the profile the radar returned said 'warship'. Not a piddly little raider, not even one that could overpower Athena twice. This was huge and deadly. "Do we have a beacon ping from it?" he asked. "Yessir" Alaine replied "She's a Scout Service cruiser. The Maui. We'd fit inside her main gun like a pea in a straw." "Any word from the station?" "Yes, we have an approach, but they are directing us to the low port. And there is a Notice to Spacers with a traffic exclusion between the cruiser and the planetary surface." Engel turned "Seeker? What do you make of this?" She frowned "I don't know. They must be here at the Council's request, unless they had some sort of catastrophic failure." He shook his head. This was like finding a friendly 400kg ridgehorn in your garden. "OK, follow the approach they've given us. They know about Bright Sky?" "Yes, we've flagged it as a prize vessel captured from raiders" Dyani supplied. "Good. Give me a call when we are fifteen out from the atmosphere." "Yessir." Back in his cabin, he called the engine room. "Sparks. Go" was the prompt reply. "Sparks? Just a heads up, there's a scout cruiser in orbit." "Which one?" "The Maui. Does it matter?" "Just asking. Did Seeker offer anything up?" "No, she's as clueless as the rest of us." Sparks hummed. "I guess we find out when we make planetfall." "I guess so. Out." Engel lay back down, and failed to get back to sleep. He lay there wondering what was going on for the next hour and a half. "Captain, Bridge. We are fifteen minutes out." "Thank-you." He scrubbed his face, and went forward again. Maybe they would have answers soon. #SF #SFF #SciFi #SpaceOpera #Microfiction #Microfic #tootfic #ShamanSpace #IAmWriting

Shaman Space Part 5 14 months after leaving Mother of All. In final jump to Mother of All. Sparks and Alaine were in the engine room checking over the engines before exiting jump. It had been a much busier jump than usual, as the Captain and Suri, the navigator, were bringing in the captured raider ship. At least, the crew hoped they were. Once they entered jump, there was no way of communicating or even locating the other ship. "How are you and Seeker holding up?" Sparks asked, without looking up from the diagnostics display. "One point five seven - what?" "How are you and Seeker holding up? It was a pretty intense thing with that raider ship." "We're" Alaine paused and started again "I'm still having some rough nights. I'm looking forward to meeting with a counsellor at Mother of All. Seeker says they are very good at dealing with trauma." "And Seeker?" "She's not as shaken up as the first time. Partly because of the first time, and partly because those people were her ancestral nemesis. But I think she's looking forward to some counselling as well." "Good. How's that coil looking?" "Uh, one point five seven above spec. Within acceptable limits." "One point five seven? That's about as close to perfect as you could hope for." The intercom chimed "Bridge to Engineering. Are we clear?" the voice of Engel the First Mate came from the grill next to the diagnostic station. Alaine glanced at Sparks who nodded. "All clear bridge" he replied. "All hands, all hands, stand by for re-entry into normal space." Alaine watched as the jump engines collapsed their private universe around them, and dropped them back into normal space. Engel's voice came over the intercom again "We are now in normal space. Resume duties." "Reaction drives active" Alaine reported after checking his instruments. "Confirmed. All systems online" Sparks responded as she did her own checks. "Confirmed" Alaine replied. "OK, off to the bridge with you, Alaine. I've got things here." He nodded, and started to head forward. He paused at the hatch "Sparks?" "Yeah?" "Thanks for asking." "No problem. We're as good as family on this ship. We look after each other." "I know, but still, thanks." Alaine continued forward to the bridge. Engel, Dyani, and Seeker were there. "Any word from Bright Sky?" he asked as he entered. Seeker looked up from the comms panel "Not yet, but they could be a few minutes away." "I'm not picking up any other ships in the immediate area" Dyani added. Seeker frowned "Hold on" she tweaked the gain control, and listened. There was a pause. "I have Bright Sky. She's about fifteen light minutes away. She came out just before us. Sending our position." Engel looked back at Seeker "Are they OK?" "Yes, yes, all systems nominal." "OK, Alaine, calculate a rendezvous that we can make into an approach to Divesen Station. Dyani, stay on the scope for any trouble." "On it" they both replied. Seeker looked towards the distant sun. She was almost home. She had news. #SFF #SF #SciFi #microfic #tootfic #microfiction #IAmWriting #ShamanSpace

As a newly divorced writer, I have the freedom to I stop for ice cream whenever I want. This tiny town has more oddball art galleries than I've seen anywhere. Quirky coffee shops galore. The indie creamery makes their own ice cream from scratch and even offers gelato for dogs. I stroll down the marina street, enjoying my cone, window shopping at yet another quirky gift shop, when a tiny logo catches my eye. This is a Hallmark Village. If they take me alive I will be assigned a golden retriever, a fleece jacket, and a coffee shop before the sun goes down. My glasses have turned darker in the sun. That'll help hide the dread in my eyes. I straighten my Front Line Assembly hoodie. Protective camouflage, declaring "You don't want this one." If I can make it back to the car, I'll be fine. Keep licking the cone. Walk steady. The guy sweeping the sidewalk in front of the used bookstore gives me a smile. "Good morning!" Giving a cheery greeting will invite conversation. A cold shoulder will invite attention. I settle for a noncommittal nod and a "Hi." I'm almost past when the bookseller says, "Hey, what's that on your shirt?" My heart plunges like a brick. The hoodie has slipped open, exposing the T-shirt from the Capybara Cafe petting zoo. That's not just sweet, it's saccharine. I pretend I don't hear. Keep moving. Don't let my feet speed up. If I panic, they'll be on me. Behind me someone mutters, "We have a Grump." The car is only a block away. I can make it. But between us, the coffee shop door opens. Four men come out. One says, "I don't know where we're going to find another marina volunteer." My stomach knots. They've sent the Cinnamon Rolls after me. #microfic

Walter Justin Deanmoore looked at his hotel room. His belongings appeared to be all present, but what was not present was his suitcase. Again. Over the last ten years of near constant travel he had been through eight suitcases, seven travel packs, five trunks, and three duffel bags. All had vanished the day before he was due to check out. All had later surfaced in cities he had never visited and had absolutely watertight alibis for. Which was a very good thing, because each time they had a body in them. A dead body. Sometimes the murderer had been caught, sometimes not. Walter reached for the phone "Hello? I'd like to speak to the day manager." He waited for a few moments "Good afternoon, it is Deanmoore in 418. Has anyone left the hotel today with a green suitcase with black leather straps?" He paused. "Yes, it is an odd question. My suitcase is missing. My belongings are not, however. Just the suitcase." Another pause. "Seven? All at once? I see. I suggest you prepare your records for the police. No it is deadly serious." He hung up and dialed again. "Hello? Yes, I'd like to report that there has almost certainly been a murder in or near the Green Field Hotel." "No I don't know who or why. It is because my suitcase is missing." He held the receiver away from his ear for a good minute. "If you are quite finished, you could call the Marseille police, the New York police, or even Scotland Yard. Ask them about the Deanmoore Suitcases." He took a breath. "Yes, I am Walter Deanmoore. Yes. Seven people checked out earlier today with suitcases identical to mine. Right. Good. Thank-you." Walter sat back. He was not getting his suitcase back, he was sure of that. But at least the killer - or killers - might not get so far this time. #microfiction #microfic #tootfic #Mystery #murder #IAmWriting #IBlameChristie

"November Victor Victor Victor, this is Victor Hotel Charlie Seven Bravo, We are seeing some heavy weather ahead. Over." Annika waited for a reply, glancing across at Chika her co-pilot. "Seven Bravo" started the reply, followed by a burst of static and silence. "November Victor Victor Victor say again" Annika sent back. Nothing. "Annika? BOM has a cat four three hundred to our south" Chika's broad Alice Springs accent stronger than usual. "How old is the report?" "Two hours. No way this could be it." "No reply. Change us to Kiribati." "Changing to three seven. Done." She tried Kiribati airport. Nothing The two pilots watched the storm as it closed in on them, almost looking like it was reaching around to trap them. Chika made a face "Call in a Pan. Changing to emergency." Annika made the call. A sudden air pocket dropped the little twin engine Baron a thousand feet. Both pilots jolted in their seats, and Chika's head struck her headrest violently. "Chika?" Annika asked, and then repeated it louder. There was no reply. She glanced over, and saw her partner slumped in her seat, unconcious - or worse. Then there was a bright flash, and the engines cut out. Annika went through the restart procedure - nothing. Somewhere the lightning had shorted something. The static in her ear told her that the radio was still working. Then they were below the clouds. Heavy rain made it hard to make anything out, but she thought she could see a small atoll ahead. Gliding the Baron through the turbulence of the storm was tricky, especially without second pair of eyes. Then Chika sat up "Don't try to ditch, the reef will mess you up good" she said in a Midwestern accent. Annika glanced over and stared. Chika was looking over the instruments and the flight plan, and then looked back. "There's an airport at Kiribati?" She asked in the same strange voice. "Chika?" Annika asked uncertainly. "Just call me Millie for now" the American voice replied, "I'll raise a mayday. Line up on the long Southwest strip. Mayday Mayday Mayday, this is November Romeo One Six Zero Two Zero. Engines out, attempting landing on Gardner Island." Then she repeated the message twice more. Annika fought the winds, and got the little plane lined up. One chance. As she struggled with the controls she asked "Who are you?" "Just don't make the same mistake me and Fred made, OK?" Then there was no time. The plane crashed through the low scrub, and ploughed into a dune. She looked across again, but Chika was slumped again. But breathing. She shut everything down. No smoke. Chika groaned. "What happened?" No American voice. "We crashed. Lightning. You remember anything?" "No, why?" "Never mind. I'm going to deploy the EPIRB." They were sheltering under a wing two days later when they saw a launch approaching. Annika saw another woman smiling next to Chika, then she blinked, and Chika was alone, waving to the boat. #SF #SFF #SciFi #microfiction #microfic #tootfic #IAmWriting

It is a popular mathematical experiment to try and work out just how fast Santa has to be to reach every house with a child in a single 24 hour period. The calculations always end up with a significant fraction of the speed of light. There then usually follow discussions about what the collateral damage from Santa's passing would be. And cargo limits, and so on. All of these are wrong, and ignore another end-of-year tradition. The portrayal of the ending year as an old man. Now that I've put these two traditions side-by-side, I think you can see what is really going on. It is possible for one man to visit every house in a night, with no shock waves or any of that silliness. But it comes at a cost. For that man, the night lasts many years, as he travels back in time after each visit. Even with time travel, he does not get much time to eat - so the snacks you leave out are essential to him surviving the night. But he only just survives. By the end of the night he will have aged over forty years. And then he hands the reigns of the time-travelling sleigh to a younger man, warning him of the cost. Someone always answers the call, despite the cost, because there is always someone willing to sacrifice everything to bring joy and light, even just a little, even if only for a moment. So leave the snacks, and, if you catch a glimpse of him, give him a bow of respect. He deserves it. #SFF #SF #Christmas #Santa #microfiction #microfic #tootfic #IAmWriting