Stacy Archives
May 27, 2005
Stacy: Human Nature
Moon Base Alpha's construction was proceeding nicely. After a disastrous first year, with near 50% casualties, the training had finally caught up with the reality, and now only actual veterans taught the noobs what they needed to know to avoid spacing themselves. It also made for good PR back home, especially when the bleeding hearts in the World Congress screeched about the "cost in human lives".
'Still, the occasional accident will happen,' thought Lancaster, as he pulled the body towards the airlock, again thankful for the 1/8 gravity. The airlock cycled open then closed, and Lancaster returned to duty, whistling.
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June 4, 2005
Stacy: Uh Oh
James finished packing his gear and looked warily around the clearing. The cycads and ferns were unmoving in the hot afternoon silence. Even with the perimeter monitors and notated schedules, he still worried about the possibility of a close encounter.
He shouldered his pack and walked toward the port terminal. He had plenty of time before the local predators awoke from their daily siesta, his watch still read one-thirty, earth standard time. Wait...STILL read...
The foliage on the north side of the clearing shuddered, and a russet head poked through, bony head ridges prominent.
Allosaurus atrox, he thought.
Damn.
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June 5, 2005
Stacy: Starbuck's Seduction
She leans intimately out the window, lank blonde hair stringing from her loose ponytail.
"Oh, it's good to see you again, Stacy," she trills in a voice that still sets my teeth on edge.
"You know," she continues, uninvited, "I always try to connect with the customers, but you're usually..."
"I'm not a morning person," I reply, hoping the token reply will satisfy her curiosity.
She peers into the passenger seat. "And you are?"
"I'm her husband," he says.
Her face visibly falls. "Oh," she says. "Well, your venti mochas will be right up," she chirps and closes the window.
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June 6, 2005
Stacy: Sabotage
There was a dull crump from the laboratory. Doors burst open, scientists pelting madly in all directions.
'Nowhere to run,' thought Brighton. He dropped the cutting laser into a wastebin and sauntered through the compound, not caring who noticed. In seventy seconds it would hardly matter who thought what at the Rockwell Fusion Research Labratory.
He found a niche, settled in to watch as the lab building folded in on itself. Decades of research felled by a tiny flaw.
In the millisecond before he died, Brighton noted the green hue of the plasma bubble.
'The color of money,' he thought.
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June 7, 2005
Stacy: Inconvenienced
"In case you're wondering, I don't spend the entire workday inside my tailor shop."
I glance at the wizened little man behind the counter as I rummage for my wallet. I'm just here for my damned skirt, I don't want to bond, fer crissakes.
"I also have a nice side business," he continues, undeterred.
He peers at me through bottle-thick glasses. "Don't you want to know what else I do?" he creaks.
I hurriedly slap down too much money, grab my skirt and bolt out the door, glad to be away from the smell of blood and the irritating screaming.
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June 8, 2005
Stacy: Oogabooga This
"Oogabooga," shouted the weirdly dressed native.
Ixi glanced back at the other members of his team.
:What’s all this then?: he tightbeamed Oto, chief science being.
Oto turned one eyestalk towards Ixi.
:Some kind of mating plumage, perhaps?:
Ixi shrugged, pushed past the native. Time was short, retrieval was in less than nine limtecs.
"Dudes, those are some rad costumes," the native slurred, the odor of grain alcohol overwhelming the team's biofilters. The native grabbed for Ixi’s eyestalks as they passed. Then there was a small pile of dust instead of the native.
The team continued on through the crowd.
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June 9, 2005
Stacy: Precious Cargo
I roll down the window, accept the envelope from the shadow.
"Deliver this to 19 Ville de Sanchez, Cartagena," the accented voice says. "Ask for Senor…"
I hold up my hand. "Rule number two, no names."
The shadow steps back silently. I accelerate away.
I must get into a better line of work, I think irritably. The transporting of items for anonymous clients was interesting, but hard on the nerves.
I arrive in Cartagena at sunrise, pull up to the address. A man in silk pajamas rushes down the steps, rips open the envelope.
"They’re here!" he exclaims. "Knicks tickets!"
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June 10, 2005
Stacy: Backlash
There wasn't much to do in Boca in those days. Bridge with the girls. Brunch at the club. Dressing up Erma's squirrel in those little silly costumes.
The farmer outfit was bad. The wedding dress worse. The bunny, Santa and leprechaun outfits just embarassing.
What was Erma thinking, taking in that wild animal? Sure, it was just a baby, but there are people who deal with lost animals. Erma was just lonely, I suppose, missing Herman like she did.
Poor Erma, how could she know that squirrel had a cousin who was an arms dealer in Miami? We'll miss her.
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June 13, 2005
Stacy: Dregs
The city has power, they said. Better be careful, or it might get you.
It was sleeping now, the old man said so. He always laughed when he said it, though. A real irritating kind of laugh, one that crawled up your spine. Lexi had enough one day, stove that old man's head in with a pipe, dumped the body out back. It still stinks out there.
We do what we want, always have. Take what we want.
I worry about the city though. What it might do to us when it wakes up. That old man said it would.
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June 14, 2005
Stacy: Bump in the Night
It occurred to him that he might see scenes now that would shatter him forever. That what lay beyond those massive doors would burn into his brain, causing the night terrors until the end of his days.
Did anything still live? Or were the noises he heard every night just in his imagination?
If not his imagination, were the noises human-made, or coming from something horrible, unimaginably old and terrifying. Something that should not be there.If he went away now, could he forget? If he stayed, and opened the door, would he survive?
No matter: he had to know.
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