#a sci-fi movie where a human and an alien crash land on a planet during a war

[turbo-virgins]

Enemy Mine | Fallout: New Vegas

This is a semi-abandoned fic I got 11K words into before I got lost in the sauce of wherever the hell the plot was going. I’ll probably come back around and finish it someday.

Pairing: Courier Six | Vulpes Inculta (if you squint)

Characters: Courier Six, Vulpes Inculta, Alerio

Words: 4579 (this is basically an early draft of what was more or less the first chapter)

@vasiktomis thanks for coaxing me to post this

The sun beat down on Courier Six from her perch atop the wall of a small gorge. Three days ago she had set herself up in the midst of boulders and sandy dunes. Her mission was simple: wait for her target to arrive. But waiting was taking one hell of a toll. Her clothes were stained with Mojave dust and the salt from her sweat. Her legs cramped from hours and hours of lying in wait. Her trigger finger itched for action.

An NCR mole at Cottonwood had promised he would pass through here. Given the dunes that stretched a few miles in every direction, this little gorge was the only foxhole for Legion scouts to make camp. At least, that’s what Six kept telling herself.

She rolled on to her back and looked up at the endless stretch of sky. If she thought hard enough about it, she could imagine leaving the sand beneath her and plummeting into that big blue abyss. But there were more important things keeping her tethered there.

Night would soon approach, but it would not bring rest. Either the frumentarii arrived on schedule or Six would have to return to civilization and refill her canteen and rations.

The sky went from a faded blue to a brilliant flaming orange. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the air lost its smothering heat and dropped to biting cold. At the last light of day, a speck appeared on the horizon.

They came from the west, a black blur in front of the retreating sun. Six readied her revolver and scoped hunting rifle - six bullets in each chamber.

As the frumentarii grew closer, Six retreated farther back into her stony nest. She counted six heads. That meant two bullets for each head. She knew from experience that one bullet wasn’t always enough.

Once the sun had nearly vanished over the horizon, Six dared to take inventory of her targets through her scope. They weren’t heavily armed. Not in a way that could stop her, at least. Each man carried a machete or a spear, tools for survival, and no more.

If what the mole told her was correct, this pack was returning to Cottonwood. Any intel they were searching for had already been gathered. Didn’t matter though. They weren’t going to make it back.

She picked him out at the front of the pack - Vulpes. He was easy to identify. He had a way about him that the others didn’t. He moved like a ghost - no footprints left in the sand, not a pebble left out of place, not a trace of his passing.

The other frumentarii raced ahead of him, eager to make camp. They worked quickly, shouting orders to each other in that archaic language Caesar forced his Legion to use. In a matter of minutes they had bed rolls positioned in a small alcove across the gorge from Six’s nest.

She smiled to herself. This was just as she expected.

One of the scouts - he appeared younger than the rest - huddled over a small pile of twigs. He pulled out flint and steel and struck them together once. A small shower of sparks fell over the twigs.

Vulpes whirled around at the sound. He stalked over to the younger scout and kicked away the pile of twigs. The scout flinched as Vulpes barked out something - Six didn’t know what.

Sufficiently reprimanded, he crawled back to his bedroll, tail between his legs. The other scouts followed his lead, albeit with less shame. It was clear in a few moments that Vulpes would take first watch. In another few moments, his companions were fast asleep.

Slowly, Six brought her rifle level to her cheek. Even without a fire, the moonlight was still bright enough to make out her targets.

Vulpes leaned against the wall of the gorge near the bedrolls. He slipped his goggles out from underneath his headdress and swiped the dust off his face with the back of his hand.

Six swept her sights over the frumentarii, a little huddle of coyotes curled up in the safety of their den.

Her sights landed on Vulpes. He polished his goggles on the hem of his tunic, oblivious to the danger above. Since she laid eyes on him in Nipton with heaps of charred corpses laying at his feet and haughty sneer on his face, she knew she would have to be the end of him.

She focused her crosshair on his face and took a deep breath.

In the same instant, Vulpes looked up. His piercing blue eyes met hers right through the scope.

His face twisted into a snarl.

He shouted.

She flinched and pulled the trigger.

Chaos erupted in the gorge below. Vulpes dropped to the sandy floor, unmoving and forgotten. The other frumentarii leapt from their bed rolls and reached for their weapons.

Six swung her scope and picked another target.

She fired.

A spray of blood stained the bedrolls.

More shouting.

Six swung her scope again and held her breath.

Another shot, another spray of viscera.

One of the frumentarii tossed a spear in her direction. It sailed overhead and clattered somewhere against the stones behind her.

She missed her next two shots, cursing her shaking hands.

She tossed her rifle to the side and pulled out her revolver.

Her next shot was for the young scout who tried to start the fire. His chest exploded into a fine red mist.

Another spear was hurled her way. She grunted when the spearhead sliced against her side, but adrenaline thrummed in her veins and urged her forward.

The two scouts left only had machetes.

In a daring maneuver, Six hurled herself down the side of the gorge, firing wildly with her revolver.

Two shots missed, pinging off the rocky wall.

The scouts rushed her.

One fell to her next shot.

She fired again and missed.

The last scout swung at her with his machete. She backpedaled out of the way. He lashed out with his fist and caught her in the temple. The world spun and she collided with the ground.

She was back in Goodsprings, wrists tied, open grave at her knees. Benny stood a few paces before her, a wry smile on his face, platinum chip in one hand pistol in the other. She looked down the barrel of Maria. Her vision was consumed by a blinding white flash.

One last gunshot rang in her head and rattled her teeth in her skull.

Six opened her eyes. The smell of gunpowder and dust and blood clogged her senses. The last scout lay in a heap on top of her, his head blown to bits.

She shoved him off of her and kicked his body away, shuddering in disgust.

Her head throbbed, but she was still alive.

And so was Vulpes.

His ragged breathing echoed off of the stone walls of the gorge.

When she approached she found him in a heap, clutching at the bleeding wound in his right shoulder. Must have aimed low when she flinched.

He shouted an archaic curse at her. At least she figured it was a curse since he spat on the ground near her boots afterwards.

“Aw, you damn fool.” She forced him onto his back with the heel of her boot. “You know I only speak degenerate.”

“You will not live to see the sun rise,” he snarled.

She eyed him coolly. His face was paler than usual and drenched in sweat. He wasn’t in good shape.

“I could say the same about you.” She leveled her revolver at him. Her finger toyed with the trigger. “Well, you Legion mongrel, what do you think?”

“The wrath of Caesar will find you, degenerate filth-“

“That’s enough of that shit.”

Click.

Damn.

Vulpes didn’t even flinch. He stared over the barrel at her, cold fury in his eyes.

Six swore and flipped the cylinder open and shook it. Empty casings fell into the dust at her feet. And her rifle was back at the top of the gorge.

She turned to make the long walk back up, but as she did so her revolver fell from her hand. She instinctively clutched her side - where she had been grazed by the spear - and found she was covered in blood. How much of it was her own was impossible to tell.

Adrenaline was wearing off. Her limbs felt like lead and-

Six retched, spitting up her last meager meal.

“And you are the best the Mojave has to offer?” Vulpes’s nasally voice mocked her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the best of Caesar’s frumentarii?”

That shut him up.

She took another few unsteady steps. The shaking in her arms and legs grew worse. She grit her teeth. What the hell was wrong with her?

She glanced down at her side and saw the wound from the spear bleeding freely.

Wait.

Six turned back to Vulpes. “Venom tipped spear, right?”

He glowered at her from where he still lay. But she swore she saw a hint of a smirk on his pointed features.

“Thought so,” she huffed.

She trudged over to the bodies of the scouts and began rifling through their belongings. They were growing cold in the Mojave’s frigid night air. Six fumbled through several packs of rations, dumping the contents on the ground. She swore her fingers were numb. Whether it was from the cold or the venom, she couldn’t tell.

The last pack she dumped out contained a small hollowed out gourd with a cork in the top. She gave it an experimental shake and heard the sloshing of liquid. Popping off the cork, she gave it a sniff.

Six nearly gagged again.

Yep, that smelled like antivenom.

She took a greedy swig and wiped her mouth off the back of her hand. The taste it left in her mouth was bitter - what she wouldn’t give for a cold beer right now. Hopefully, though, that would do the trick. Time would only tell.

Back to the matter at hand - Vulpes had propped himself up against a boulder, still clutching at the wound in his shoulder.

Six shot him a wolfish grin.

“I’m worth more to you alive than dead,” he said.

“Bargaining now, are we? You think I don’t know that, dog? The information you have would set the NCR up nice and pretty. But I know you Legion types. Getting captured ain’t your thing.” Six knew what she said wasn’t entirely accurate; she was almost certain Vulpes knew it too. Months ago she’d helped the NCR interrogate a legionnaire in Camp McCarran that had allowed himself to get captured. He wasn’t as wiley as a frumentarii though.

“A second group of scouts is passing through this area soon. Too soon for you to escape. If you leave me alive, I’ll make sure they won’t track you down.”

Six kept her face neutral. But underneath her cool exterior, anxiety was beginning to settle in. How soon did he mean? She didn’t have to ask to find out.

“They were to meet us here at dawn. You’re wounded. Too wounded to make a run for it. If you kill me, they’ll catch up with you easily.”

“Please, it’s just a scratch,” she snorted.

“The antivenom won’t take effect for another few hours.”

“Like hell I’m leaving you here alive. How do I know you won’t sic ‘em on me while I’m running?”

“Caesar would have me crucified for allowing you to escape. And I want to kill you myself. Let’s call it payback.”

Six got back to her feet. She grit her teeth when she realized how unsteady she was on her legs. The venom really did take a toll.

There were a few options at hand. Six toyed with her revolver, spinning the empty cylinder round and round while she thought it out.

Vulpes could be lying. Six glanced at him. He was waiting for her decision in stony silence. Though, if she left him and there weren’t any scouts coming, he was as good as dead. So what if he was telling the truth? If she killed him, she couldn’t outrun a full squad of frumentarii. Not in this condition. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave her prize still kicking in this gorge. Six knew better than most that things left unfinished can come around to be a real pain in the ass.

That left one option - the wild card. She whipped her revolver, snapping the cylinder back into place.

“Alright. I’ve thought it through,” she announced.

She turned and made the slow ascent back to her sniper’s nest, cursing and swearing at her clumsy feet. After grabbing her empty canteen, rifle, and near empty pouch, she made her way back down to Vulpes.

As she slung her rifle over her shoulder, he spoke.

“Very well. I will come up with a suitable story to placate the frumentarii. You will not be hunted on your retreat.”

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary.” She grabbed the collar of his tunic and hauled him to his feet roughly. “Your dusty ass is coming with me.”

Vulpes didn’t seem to like the wild card option. He snarled at her and tried to wrestle himself out of her grip. Six held on to his collar tightly, though not without difficulty.

Wiley as ever, he hooked his foot around the back of Six’s leg and swept it out from under her. They both collapsed in a heap on the gorge floor.

A plume of dust and sand got up her nose, making her cough and wheeze.

“You’ll get us both killed,” he spat.

“So will you if you fight me the whole fuckin’ way back.”

With some difficulty, Six got back on her wobbly feet, swearing the whole time about the Legion and their venom tipped weapons. She hauled Vulpes back up to his feet, this time keeping him a stiff arm’s length away.

“Now be a good dog and follow me.”

They took the same path out of the gorge the frumentarii had used on arrival. All the finesse Six had observed in Vulpes at that time was now gone. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, while his right clutched at his still bleeding wound. She had to pull him up several steep inclines by the scruff of his neck, as if he were some helpless pup and not one of the most hated fiends of the Mojave.

At the top of the gorge, a cool breeze and endless mounds of rock and sand greeted them. The closest scrap of civilization from here was Boulder City. And it would be a hell of a walk.

She dragged her prisoner west. It didn’t take long before she began to realize what a bad idea this may have been. They certainly weren’t making much progress. And with all the stumbling they were both doing, their tracks might as well have a neon flashing sign pointed right at them.

“How long until the second pack of scouts shows up?” she asked after a long period of silence.

“First light. Perhaps even sooner than that.”

“And, what, you think they’ll try to rescue you?”

“No,” he growled. “I’ve been captured. It’s the highest dishonor for a frumentarii. I will be taken back to Caesar, castrated, disemboweled, and crucified.”

“What a fun bunch.” Six rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t it matter that you, you know, lead the frumentarii? That doesn’t count for anything?”

“The frumentarii are not mine, they are Caesar’s. We are but tools honed to enact his will.”

“You know that’s what doesn’t make sense about you clowns. You’re just okay with being tortured for a single fuck up?”

“To disobey is death, but those of us that survive excel. Far beyond that of your pitiful NCR.”

“Hey, don’t forget I’m the one that came out on top.”

Vulpes halted mid-step, forcing her to pause and look him in the eye. It was impossible to make out the entirety of his expression in the dark, but she swore she saw the flash of a snarl.

“Not yet,” he said. Something in his tone told her the conversation was over.

For what felt like hours they trudged on in silence, nothing but the sound of their boots dragging through the sand. At first, Six kept Vulpes at an arm’s length, grip tight around the back of his tunic. But now, as the journey wore on, he had his left arm over her shoulders and her right arm clutched at his belt.

She risked a glance at him occasionally. Sweat poured from his forehead and his breathing was shallow. The wound she gave him still bled, albeit not as much as before. As for the venom, Vulpes hadn’t exaggerated. Most of her strength was back, or so she thought. Her legs didn’t wobble at least. Still, she floundered as if she were trapped in thick jelly. She grit her teeth. They weren’t making enough progress.

The first hints of bright blue were on the horizon, washing out the stars in the night sky. Soon the sun would peer over and the second group of frumentarii would be on their tail. If they weren’t already.

“How many frumentarii were s’posed to join you?”

“Six more.”

Six’s mouth fell into a grim line. The element of surprise wasn’t on her side this time. The odds weren’t good. There was also the fact she had dragged the half-dead Vulpes along with her. It was on a whim. A way to prolong his suffering if he’d been lying to her. But she was certain now he wasn’t.

Now they were both wounded and wandering with meager means to defend themselves.

“Alerio will be among them,” Vulpes said, dragging her from her thoughts.

“You say that like I should know who that is.”

“He is my second.”

“Second what?”

Vulpes stayed silent.

Damn, he must be in bad shape.

“He will be glad to take my place as Caesar’s left hand,” he said at last.

“Oh.” She shouldn’t be surprised that the legion would be so cutthroat. It started at the top of the chain with Caesar after all.

“I trained him from when he was a boy. He has always been eager to prove himself.”

“Is he like your kid or something?”

“There is no family in the legion,” he grunted. “Affection breeds weakness.” Vulpes stumbled to the ground.

Six fell to her knees with him. Her strength was the only thing that kept them both from getting a face full of sand. “Uh huh, whatever you say, dog.”

His lithe form slipped from her grip and hit the dirt. Six grabbed his arm and found it cold and slick with sweat. She tried to pull him up. He released a faint groan.

“Leave me,” he rasped.

“Like hell,” she spat. “I dragged you this far, I’m not leaving you now. That dumbass coyote hat you got is gonna be mounted on my wall.”

“We’ll both die if you don’t.”

“Great, so you’ll get the revenge you wanted.”

He snatched the collar of her shirt and dragged her down to his eye level with surprising strength.

“Not like this,” he hissed.

Six’s eyes went round. She wasn’t sure what he meant, but his icy blue stare cut right through her. Something about it was unsettling, like the chill she’d wake up to in the dead of night after dreaming about her grave in Goodsprings. An uncomfortable silence followed.

She blinked and shook her head before slapping his hand away. “Fine, I guess we can-“

There was a crack over her shoulder. A plume of dust poofed into existence a few yards from where they were.

Shit.

Six leapt to her feet and hauled Vulpes to cover, ignoring the burning protest of her legs. She checked the horizon, expecting to see a rabid pack of frumentarii hurtling towards her. Instead she saw nothing. Only dark mounds of sand and rock.

There was a small dip in the terrain not too far from where Vulpes had fallen. It wasn’t much more than a glorified ditch with a slight rocky overhang, but it would have to do. She dragged him down with her and shoved him unceremoniously under the rock shelf, careful at least of his injured shoulder.

“Courier,” he wheezed.

“Shut up,” she spat.

She slung her pack off her shoulders and dumped the contents to the ground. There wasn’t much to sort through. No food. No water. Only a couple boxes of rounds and a stimpak.

She looked at Vulpes, then back to her guns.

Fuck! Why didn’t she reload them ages ago? Maybe she did deserve to die here for being so damn stupid.

Maybe it didn’t even matter. It was one to six odds anyway. And she had no element of surprise, no sniper nest, nothing but a half dead frumentarii and a couple of unloaded guns.

Another crack of a gunshot, another puff of dust atop the hill in front of their little hiding place.

She looked at the stimpak. It was the only one she had brought - just for life and death emergencies. Weighing it in her palm, Six thought of the gravity of her situation. She looked at Vulpes, then back at the stimpak, then back at Vulpes.

“You better not make me regret this.”

Six ripped the right side of his tunic open. The wound she’d given him had crusted over around the edges, but still seeped blood. Damn, he’d lost a lot of blood. Dried brown stains were all over his clothes, running down the skin of his arm and his chest.

Picking a spot of flesh close to the center of the wound, she injected the stimpak. Her fingers shook on the shaft as she watched her only dose of miracle essence stitch up the wound of Vulpes Fucking Inculta. In mere moments the gaping bloody hole was replaced with nothing more than a mass of scar tissue.

There were no more gunshots. The Mojave had gone silent. In those moments, Six wondered if she had jumped the gun. It could have just been a roaming Fiend that shot at them, not the second squad of frumentarii.

Vulpes lay there under the rock shelf, tunic half ripped off, skin pale and glistening with sweat, still as a corpse. It might have been too late. He might have lost too much blood.

Six didn’t waste much time wondering. She quickly reloaded her rifle, and after a brief moment of psyching herself up, dared to peer over the top of her ditch and do a sweep with her scope.

She saw nothing. No sign of-

Wait.

She swung her scope back to the east. In the shadow of a boulder she saw a spot of red and then the telltale flash of a scope.

Six threw herself back to the ground.

Another shot whizzed overhead and hit the hill behind her.

Okay, so there was at least one frumentarii that found them. But where were the others? No time to find out like the present.

Six scooted to a different end of the ditch before peeking over the top. The spot of red was still behind the boulder. In an instant she lined up a shot and fired before throwing herself to the ground again.

“Courier!” It was a faint cry on the wind from the east, but Six heard it all the same.

“Yeah?” She hollered back. “What do you want?”

“Cease fire!”

“You shot first, dumbass!”

“I offer a trade.”

“What kind?”

“Vulpes Inculta for your life.”

Six glanced at Vulpes, lying still as she had left him.

“I already killed that fucker!”

“Leave the body and you may go.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Don’t test my patience, degenerate.”

Six took her rifle and peered over the rocks through her scope. There was no sign of the frumentarii behind the boulder now. Perhaps he was waiting until she had left.

She inched her way to the opposite side of the ditch, not daring to turn her back on the frumentarii’s hiding place and scanning for any others all the while.

Back under the rock shelf, Six’s revolver lay in the sand an arm’s length from Vulpes. He never moved to claim it.

The sun had since risen higher from the east. It was difficult to investigate the surroundings thoroughly. Each step Six took backwards was slow, rigid. Each step could be her last.

She reached the apex of the hill without incident. Now she could turn and run down the other side. She could. She should. But her prize still lay in that ditch. And something urged her to watch and listen.

Six nestled into the sand and got comfortable. How long she would have to wait, she had no idea.

The sun climbed higher and with it, the temperature. Sweat poured from her brow, both from heat and nerves. Still, she would not move. Whether it was an hour that passed or a few minutes, Six could not tell. All of her senses were fixed, focused, for any sound or any change in the air that indicated the frumentarii was near.

Her ears pricked. She thought she heard something. It could have been the delicate shifting of sand. It could have been the wind between the dunes. A voice cut through that soft sound. It spoke the language of Caesar’s legion and was beyond her understanding.

“Still alive? Stubborn old fox,” said a voice she did not recognize.

“Did the others leave you so soon, Alerio?” Vulpes’s voice was weak, almost beyond Six’s hearing.

“They have a duty to Caesar,” Alerio replied.

“And do you not?”

“I am doing my duty here.”

A pause. Then Vulpes spoke.

“I understand.”

Six shifted in the sand, straining her hearing and willing herself to understand.

“Your dishonor cannot be forgiven, Vulpes. I will lead the frumentarii in your stead.”

“You will do well, Alerio.”

“The words of a traitor do not matter.”

“I know.”

A gunshot rang out. Six flinched before grabbing her rifle and darting back up the hill. She aimed where she had last seen Vulpes. There he lay with Alerio standing over him.

Six swung her rifle over to Alerio. Her finger was poised on the trigger, ready to fire.

Alerio was still for a moment. He swayed where he stood before he fell onto his back, bleeding freely from the hole in his chest. Six’s revolver was quivering in Vulpes’s fist.

“Don’t move,” Six barked.

Vulpes did not move. He glowered at the still body of Alerio. “He was my best, most ambitious apprentice,” he murmured. The revolver dropped from his grip and lay forgotten in the sand.

“Touch that gun again and I’ll shoot,” she warned before making her way down.

He didn’t seem to hear her.

“When Alerio does not return, the frumentarii will be ordered to hunt us both, to not return until our heads are brought with them to adorn Caesar’s tent. I will spend the rest of my days hunted by my brothers.”

“I thought the legion didn’t believe in family.” Six stooped and picked up the revolver before putting it in her holster.

“That is what Caesar would say. And his word is law.” He turned to look at her then, his brilliant blue eyes glowing with hatred. Hatred for what, this time she could not tell.

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #227

Thurs Apr 30 2020 [06:34 PM] Wack'd: Another story catalyzed by space objects falling to Earth [06:35 PM] Wack'd: This time a meteor lands in a lake in Pennsylvania [06:36 PM] Wack'd: One of Reed's science friends calls Reed and is like "hey, I know you're big into meteors, wanna come do science and hang out" [06:37 PM] Bocaj: Space needs to stop dumping its junk in our yard [06:37 PM] Wack'd: I mean hey, we do it too. It's reciprocal pollution [06:37 PM] Umbramatic: The Great Space Junk Exchange [06:38 PM] Bocaj: When has a thing earth sent v'gering into space ever caused a problem [06:38 PM] Umbramatic: ...what the fuck were the dinosaurs polluting space with to get what they did [06:38 PM] Bocaj: Its not like we send a hulk of stuff and crash it into gladiator planets [06:38 PM] maxwellelvis: @Umbramatic Tobacco [06:38 PM] Wack'd: @Umbramatic : *Land Before Time* videocassettes [06:38 PM] Umbramatic: dbtgfrh ojgifmhk  hjnl;.'; [06:38 PM] Bocaj: Ha [06:39 PM] maxwellelvis: The real reason the dinosaurs went extinct. [06:39 PM] Wack'd: So anyway the team is going on vacation! Johnny wants to get a tan and Sue is like "let's bring the grill" and I'm like "you're. You're going to Pennsylvania" [06:39 PM] Wack'd: Like yes the caption specifies it landed at a resort but like, c'mon [06:39 PM] Bocaj: CAN Johnny tan? [06:39 PM] Bocaj: He's exposed to heat and light every day of his life [06:40 PM] Bocaj: Can Johnny Storm get a sunburn? [06:40 PM] Bocaj: Also: why isn't his name Blaze? [06:40 PM] Wack'd: Maybe he can choose to but it's unpleasant to use his powers for it and he prefers the old-fashion way [06:40 PM] Bocaj: Hm, acceptable handwave [06:40 PM] Wack'd: Like there's a difference between being exposed to solar radiation from billions of miles off and setting yourself on fire [06:41 PM] Wack'd: Ben is grumpy because Alicia is bogged down with work and can't make it, and his only other friend will be busy with science [06:41 PM] Wack'd: (You'd think he could hang out with Sue and Johnny and Franklin but whatever) [06:42 PM] maxwellelvis: Sandman stopped taking his calls? [06:42 PM] Wack'd: Sandman tries to beat him up on the regular, what're you talking about [06:42 PM] maxwellelvis: Ahh, right, you're not reading Two-In-One. [06:42 PM] maxwellelvis: Okay, there's ONE thing in Marvel Two-In-One that causes an actual change to the status-quo in Marvel; there's an issue where Ben goes to a bar and finds Sandman is also there. So he sits down with him and they talk. [06:43 PM] Wack'd: "Yer off yer meds again, aren'tcha, Flint" [06:43 PM] Bocaj: One of my favorite scenes in the DCAU [06:44 PM] Bocaj: Get rekt that scene of Batman talking to Ace, psychic meltdown [06:44 PM] maxwellelvis: By the end of the issue, Sandman has gone legit, and for like a decade, he stayed so, until eventually some Spider-Man story needed him back on the Sinister Six. [06:44 PM] Bocaj: (Because it implies that Only Batman can human at people is why) [06:44 PM] Wack'd: Decade does seem to be where Marvel status quo changes top out sadly [06:44 PM] Bocaj: I think it was after the clone saga [06:45 PM] Bocaj: During the panic mode 'shit roll it back roll everything back fuck fuck fuck' kneejerk [06:45 PM] Wack'd: Gotta remind people of the good ol days after that stinker, yeah [06:45 PM] maxwellelvis: Then it was close to like, two decades or something. [06:45 PM] maxwellelvis: That's an astonishingly long time in comics. [06:45 PM] Wack'd: Oh wow [06:45 PM] Bocaj: Funfact: Sandman was an Avenger [06:45 PM] Wack'd: Huh! [06:45 PM] Bocaj: Reserve, but still. [06:45 PM] Bocaj: Nice [06:46 PM] Wack'd: If nothing else the idea of him as a sympathetic crook seems to have stuck [06:46 PM] Wack'd: Which is not nothing [06:46 PM] Bocaj: Sam Raimi intensifies [06:46 PM] maxwellelvis: Marvel Two-In-One Vol 1 #86 is the relevant issue. [06:46 PM] maxwellelvis: So it hasn't happened yet at the time you're reading, is the other reason you hadn't heard about it. That issue was in 1982, so about a decade and a half, give or take. [06:47 PM] maxwellelvis: And you weren't far-off with that JLU joke, @Wack'd, says here that a big thing in the issue is Sandman dealing with the trauma of having been merged with Hydro-Man. Which is probably why he's receptive to the idea of going legit. [06:48 PM] Wack'd: Alright then [06:48 PM] Wack'd: ...anyway Sandman isn't. In this one. So [06:49 PM] maxwellelvis: Yeah, this was a lot more explaining for a dumb joke than I anticipated. [06:49 PM] Wack'd: Back to the story at hand [06:50 PM] Wack'd: Ben decides he's gonna go fishing. He's got a floppy hat and a vest and everything. Also: more womanly stereotypes!

[06:51 PM] Umbramatic: i love ben's fishing outfit [06:52 PM] Bocaj: He looks so happy [06:52 PM] maxwellelvis: Fishing hats like that always make me flash back to that M*A*S*H episode where Col. Blake salutes while wearing his hat and hooks his finger on it. [06:52 PM] maxwellelvis: "What are you trying to DO to me?!" [06:52 PM] Bocaj: Oooow [06:52 PM] Wack'd: They fly into Pennsylvania and things have. Escalated.

[06:52 PM] Bocaj: "I don't want to hoard gold, I want to turn people into dinosaurs" "HE KEEPS SAYING THAT" [06:53 PM] Wack'd: For the record earlier cutaway panels show this is a bird that got mutated by the meteor but I got distracted and forgot to post it [06:53 PM] Umbramatic: that pterosaur's wings make me viscerally angr--AND THAT MAKES IT EVEN WORSE [06:53 PM] maxwellelvis: Somewhere a paleontologist is weeping [06:53 PM] maxwellelvis: OR [06:53 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh cool, I didn't know the writers of *Dino Squad* ghostwrote this issue [06:53 PM] Umbramatic: that's me, i'm the weeping palentologist [06:54 PM] Mousa The 14: The bird didn’t mutate, it simply regressed to an earlier form [06:54 PM] Bocaj: HROINK! [06:54 PM] Umbramatic: if it did that it'd be more like a velociraptor [06:54 PM] Mousa The 14: Hroink indeed. Hroink indeed. [06:55 PM] maxwellelvis: Pterosaurs and birds are completely different groups of archosaurs, that's a mutation, Mousa. [06:55 PM] Umbramatic: YES [06:55 PM] Wack'd: Not really sure why this merited a silent panel

[06:55 PM] Bocaj: Just put up an invisible force slide [06:55 PM] Mousa The 14: Artist showing off [06:56 PM] Wack'd: How bad he can draw children? [06:56 PM] Umbramatic: i dunno which makes a better reaction image, franklin's face or the pterosaur's [06:56 PM] Mousa The 14: Or to show Franklin is about to use. THE POWER [06:56 PM] Bocaj: Its not the worst tiny adult i've seen in comics [06:56 PM] maxwellelvis: Unless it leads to another god-child moment, it's a rather pointless reaction image. [06:56 PM] Bocaj: I'm not saying that its all Franklin's fault but I blame Cable on him [06:56 PM] Bocaj: God-child arms race [06:57 PM] Wack'd: So the monster explodes, and Reed collects its gem--EUGH

[06:57 PM] Bocaj: I don't like this. [06:58 PM] Wack'd: Ftr Gideon Carruthers is Reed's science friend. We already have a Gideon so I'll call him Carruthers [06:58 PM] Umbramatic: -screaming- [06:58 PM] Wack'd: To disambiguate him from the rich doofus [06:58 PM] Bocaj: I'd laugh my ass off if he looked just like gideon from gravity falls [06:58 PM] Bocaj: or even gideon from Scotts Pilgrim [06:59 PM] maxwellelvis: I know there's some sci-fi parasite this reminds me of, but I can't think what. [06:59 PM] Bocaj: Captain N mother brain? [06:59 PM] maxwellelvis: Parasite [06:59 PM] Bocaj: She was a parasite on my peace of mind [07:02 PM] Wack'd: Sue takes a moment to check that Franklin isn't traumatized but he's like "we fought and won, just like in the comics!" And then uh

[07:02 PM] Wack'd: Were comics caught up in the Satanic Panic or whatever? Like [07:02 PM] Umbramatic: -screams- [07:02 PM] Wack'd: Seems more like a 50s thing [07:02 PM] Wack'd: Also yeah that sure is a Franklin [07:02 PM] Bocaj: I think Wertham argued that kids couldn't distinguish comics from reality and yeah that was way before this I think [07:03 PM] Bocaj: I think in his book he cited an incident that I don't know if legit or not where a kid tied a blanket around their neck like a cape and jumped off a roof [07:03 PM] Wack'd: Eesh [07:04 PM] Bocaj: Not sure that could be laid at Superman's feet. He very clearly says 'I have alien powers from being an alien' [07:04 PM] Wack'd: Can't wait to see this kid's mutt mutate into MCGRUFF, THE CRIME DOG

[07:04 PM] Bocaj: Duff Dog Oh Yeah [07:04 PM] Bocaj: Suds McDuffie [07:04 PM] Wack'd: This is cool too I guess

[07:05 PM] maxwellelvis: I was going to say, I think a dire wolf is more likely. [07:07 PM] Umbramatic: awoooo [07:07 PM] Bocaj: Werewolves of Slyvania [07:07 PM] maxwellelvis: I really wish the LOTR movies had modeled the Wargs more on dire wolves than hyenas. [07:08 PM] Wack'd: Okay I think we can safely dismiss the idea of these mutations having some kind of basis in scientific reality

[07:08 PM] Wack'd: Paleontologists rest easy [07:08 PM] Umbramatic: FOREHEAD BEAM [07:08 PM] Bocaj: You've never seen a dog shoot a laser? [07:09 PM] Umbramatic: pidge shoots lasers all the time [07:09 PM] Wack'd: Anyway this time instead of the monster exploding Reed spots the parasite on the back of its neck and grabs it before self-destruct is triggered [07:09 PM] Wack'd: Kid gets his dog back and dog stops being a fiend [07:09 PM] Umbramatic: we have to prevent her from doing it to the neighbors [07:09 PM] Bocaj: Duffer... will live [07:10 PM] Wack'd: Reed I, uh, think the forehead laser puts a serious hole in your theory!

[07:11 PM] Wack'd: Also the fuck is the "evolutionary agent"? Is he claiming we have, like, an evolution gland that pumps evolution juice into our bodies that makes us not be weird history monsters? [07:12 PM] Wack'd: Okay so Reed elaborates that the forehead laser is because the parasite gives its hosts psychic powers to make them more powerful so they can steal gasoline to eat [07:12 PM] maxwellelvis: Well, sure, I can see how that- huh? [07:13 PM] Wack'd: "It makes a bizarre kind of sense," says Carruthers, who is also identified as a geologist and so I guess is just rolling with this [07:13 PM] Bocaj: Carruthers: "Its not a rock so i don't fuckin know" [07:14 PM] Wack'd: Sue is upset that Franklin is in danger and weird shit keeps finding them and Reed is like "we do have some quiet times, they just happen off-panel" and Sue is like "you're right, I'm sorry I snapped" [07:14 PM] Wack'd: And she wants a normal life and yadda yadda [07:14 PM] Bocaj: Like that time she played horsey [07:15 PM] Bocaj: REMEMBER THE HORSEY TIMES SUE [07:15 PM] Wack'd: Sue, hold on to your memories of like the first two pages of each recent arc [07:15 PM] Bocaj: Yeah! [07:16 PM] Umbramatic: thbijgthp oknjlph;[m'n [07:16 PM] Wack'd: So they send Ben down in scuba gear to get the meteor which does actually kinda look like it could be a Steven Universe corrupted gem. Unfortunately he brings something back with him

[07:17 PM] Wack'd: Remember: if a character says they want to go fishing in act one they need to catch a giant sea monster by act three [07:17 PM] maxwellelvis: Shai-hulud [07:17 PM] Umbramatic: poor ben [07:17 PM] Umbramatic: he just wanted to turn fish in to blathers [07:18 PM] Wack'd: Reed, being the smart intelligent thing he is, puts this round item down on the floor of a rocking boat [07:19 PM] Wack'd: It cracks open and [07:19 PM] Wack'd: And then Sue was the reverted evolution thingy

[07:19 PM] Bocaj: So whats the 'reverted evolution' of Sue [07:20 PM] Bocaj: Issue 1 Sue where she didn't ever contribute anything? [07:20 PM] Wack'd: Uh. Angry, I guess?

[07:20 PM] Bocaj: My idea was funnier and plausibly unfair [07:20 PM] Wack'd: True [07:21 PM] Bocaj: Hope this isn't another situation where Reed is justified in belting her [07:21 PM] Wack'd: Also Reed opens the cracked egg and finds five grooves for parasites to be in like seeds [07:21 PM] Wack'd: So after Sue there's one unaccounted for [07:21 PM] Bocaj: Dun dun dun [07:22 PM] Wack'd: Immediately resolved by it dropping out of a tree and on to Carruthers' neck [07:22 PM] Umbramatic: oh [07:22 PM] Bocaj: Whats tension anyway [07:23 PM] Wack'd: Hm. Reverting made his skin darker. Don't like that

[07:24 PM] Bocaj: I do like the resigned "Yep -- I wuz right" from Ben [07:24 PM] Bocaj: Don't like "uglier than the hulk" paired with the thing you said [07:25 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Carruthers goes after some oil because these things eat oil remember, so Johnny blows up the oil and Carruthers goes flying like in an action movie or a Looney Tune [07:25 PM] Wack'd: Thus knocking him out so Ben can get the parasite off him before he explodes [07:26 PM] Bocaj: Yaa~aaay [07:26 PM] Wack'd: Oh. Oh fuck [07:27 PM] Wack'd: I've been sitting here thinking "but why are the monsters blowing up anyway? How does that benefit the parasites? Surely they'd want to keep the host alive to keep collecting oil" [07:27 PM] Wack'd: Adding to that, Reed postulates time is a factor as to why some explode and some don't [07:28 PM] Wack'd: But, uh. I thiiiiiiink it might be a lot simpler than that

[07:29 PM] Wack'd: If I'm right, Franklin blew up the dragon and the sea monster. He wasn't around for the dog and Carruthers [07:29 PM] Bocaj: Dun dun DUUUUN [07:29 PM] Wack'd: (And probably wouldn't have blown them up if he had!) [07:29 PM] Bocaj: Geez Franklin, geez [07:30 PM] Wack'd: And now he's like "do I...blow up mommy? No, right? I feel like that's probably a no" [07:32 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Sue is not entirely mutated, just got some weird facial deformities and is a little out of it. Reed says its maybe her cosmic ray blood [07:32 PM] Umbramatic: *screams* [07:32 PM] Umbramatic: @ the franklin face [07:32 PM] Wack'd: Haha! VINDICATED

[07:33 PM] Wack'd: Honestly kudos to Moench here for successfully constructing a mystery I didn't know was a mystery until the reveal happened [07:33 PM] Wack'd: That's some good writing right there [07:34 PM] Wack'd: Less good writing: this

[07:34 PM] Umbramatic: so nice work [07:35 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Franklin blows up the parasite without hurting Reed or Sue and is very proud of himself [07:36 PM] Wack'd: And Reed concludes "uh maybe we should figure out exactly hat Franklin's deal is" before the whole team hightails it back to New York [07:36 PM] Wack'd: A happy ending maybe

[07:37 PM] Bocaj: OR IS IT? [07:37 PM] Wack'd: Nope, turns out they have another son [07:38 PM] Bocaj: Benjamin Jonathan Richards you were named after the two bravest men I know [07:39 PM] Wack'd: LETTERS! Everybody loves some letters [07:39 PM] Wack'd: Eric L Watts wants Johnny to fall in love with another superhero and Ben and Alicia to get married. I like one of those ideas [07:39 PM] Bocaj: Is that the one what did happen eventualy? [07:40 PM] Wack'd: I mean both of those happen eventually [07:40 PM] Bocaj: Or is it the one, due to the vagaries of gendered language, that has Johnny come out as queer? [07:40 PM] Wack'd: Ha [07:41 PM] maxwellelvis: Lyja isn't a superhero when she and Johnny meet, though. [07:41 PM] Wack'd: Someone wants to know how Sienkiewicz is pronounced! It's sinKEVitch [07:41 PM] Wack'd: @maxwellelvis He does also date Medusa, so [07:41 PM] Bocaj: He's dated Crystal and Medusa [07:41 PM] maxwellelvis: Good golly [07:41 PM] Bocaj: He dates Nova, not that one, who probably counts if Silver Surfer do [07:42 PM] Bocaj: Huh. This list of romantic partners I've found for him is shorter than you'd expect [07:42 PM] Wack'd: People are kind of tetchy at how much Reed stretches now. Two different letter writers are like "He's not Plastic Man!" [07:42 PM] Bocaj: Hah. [07:43 PM] Wack'd: And people really like the more domestic stuff, specifically how Sue is written [07:43 PM] Wack'd: I'm sure the fact that all the letter writers are dudes is a coincidence [07:44 PM] Bocaj: I'm kind of but not really but a little surprised that Carol and Johnny haven't gone on at least one date. They have a venn diagram social circle and Carol dated Spider-Man briefly which is a similar kind of energy [07:44 PM] Wack'd: Oh hey, look who's making her *Fantastic Four* debut

[klaudiafmp]

War of the Worlds

“Ray Ferrier is estranged from his children: 10-year-old daughter Rachel, and teenage son Robbie. Ray's ex-wife, Mary Ann, drops them off at his house in Bayonne, New Jersey, on her way to visit her parents in Boston.”

“Later, a strange storm occurs during which lightning strikes multiple times into the middle of a local intersection, disrupting all electricity. Ray joins the crowd at the scene of the impacts, where a massive "tripod" war machine emerges from the ground and uses powerful energy weapons to destroy the area, disintegrating most of the witnesses into a grey dust. Ray collects his children, steals a van that had just been repaired, and drives to Mary Ann's empty home in suburban New Jersey to take refuge. That night, they take shelter in the basement, but they soon hear a strange roaring noise followed by an explosion, which destroys the house. The next morning, Ray discovers that a Boeing 747 had crashed into the neighborhood. A news team scavenging for food explains to him that there are multiple tripods that have attacked major cities around the world. The tripods have force shields to protect them from human weapons, and the tripods' pilots traveled to Earth within the lightning storms as a way to enter their machines, which are assumed to have been buried underground for millions of years.”

“Ray decides to drive the kids to Boston to be with their mother, but a desperate mob swarm their vehicle and they are forced to abandon it. They eventually board a ferry to cross the Hudson River only to be surrounded by several tripods, who begin massacring and abducting many of the refugees, but Ray's family manages to escape. They then witness U.S. Marines engaging in a futile battle with some tripods; Ray tries to stop Robbie from joining the fight, but is reluctantly forced to release him so that he can take Rachel to safety. Ray and Rachel flee as the machines annihilate the soldiers, and are offered shelter in a farmhouse basement by a deranged man named Harlan Ogilvy.

The three remain undetected for several days, even as a probe and a group of tripod aliens explore the basement. They soon discover that the aliens are cultivating a red-colored vegetation across the landscape that is quickly spreading; the group deduces the aliens are modifying Earth to make it more like their home planet. The next morning, Ogilvy suffers a mental breakdown upon witnessing the tripods harvesting human blood and tissue to fertilize the alien vegetation. Convinced that Ogilvy's mad shouting will alert the aliens to their location, Ray reluctantly kills him. A second tripod probe catches the Ferriers sleeping; Rachel flees and is abducted by a nearby tripod, and Ray joins her after picking up a belt of grenades. Ray uses the grenades to destroy the tripod from within, freeing all the abductees.

Ray and Rachel arrive in Boston, where they find the alien vegetation withering and the tripods inexplicably collapsing. When an active tripod appears, Ray notices birds landing on it, indicating its shields are offline. Ray alerts the soldiers escorting the fleeing crowd, who shoot it down with anti-tank missiles. As the soldiers advance on the downed tripod, a hatch opens and a sickly alien struggles halfway out before dying. Ray and Rachel finally reach Mary Ann's parents' house, where they are reunited with Mary Ann and Robbie.

A closing narration explains that the aliens' immune systems could not handle the countless billions of microbes that inhabit the Earth, and that humanity has "earned" the right to the planet by virtue of naturally coexisting with the rest of its biosphere.”

I feel it’s very interesting that this story that was adapted to be a ‘modern day’ movie back in 2005 when the original book that it was adapted from was written all the way back in 1898. I never read the original book but I’m going to have to judge it by it’s cover and say that the artworks for the book even the ones made before this movie came out all depicted very high tech futuristinc looking ‘tripods’ and it got me thinking about how did somebody come up with this more than 100 years ago. The fact that this story could’ve been set in the late Victorian era but the movie depicts it in the modern world just shows how timeless the book really is. It’s adaptable and the concept that Wells came up with for the aliens doesn’t have a time stamp on it. And that is further proven by how in the movie the aliens or specifically their tripods came from the underground. It in a way shows that we never know when they would attack it could be 1898 or very much so 2005, and that is what amazes me about this story because hear me out the actual plot is really boring and inconsistent. 

This guy gets stuck with his kids after their mum decides to visit her parents and doesn’t want to take them for some reason but ok. Then aliens attack and the dad instead of going into hiding or doing anything smart comes up with the brilliant idea of ‘you’re going back to your mum I ain’t dealing with this’ and then the entire story is just him trying to give the kids back to their mother and on the way his son has to be a stereotypical rebellious teenager and decides to run away to fight the aliens, then Ray destroy one tripod and figures out how to destroy them all by the end of the movie because plot. And happy ending the kids end up with their mum how nice.

But the concept of an alien attack that dates so far back is just so suprising. You wouldn’t think that sci fi from more than 100 years ago would still hold up to how we view some of the modern science fiction movies and books.

I also just want to mention one scene from this movie that really stuck with me because of how terrifying but cool it was. I remember seeing just one scene from this movie as a little kid and that was the scene of the little girl turning around to see three tripods slowly walk towards them from the forest. I must have been like 5 or 6 seeing that I remember it was at my old house back in Poland and I never got to see the full movie till much later but that one scene really defined this movie for me. Even back when I haven’t actually fully watched it whenever somebody would mention it, I would think of this one scene. It amazed me when I got to see it in context how helpless these people were. They are trying to run from these tripods jumping and crawling onto the boats, stacking on one another others helping people crawl onto the ships or throwing their children on it so at least they have a chance of survival only to get cornered by these 3 tripods from the distance. And when they were finally on open water thinking they are safe for now two more tripods emerged from under the water. I want my story in the comic to feel somewhat like this, very hopeless. My story will include an adavnced alien race getting destroyed and run over by yet another alien species and sending a warning message to our solar system, I want the message and what is going on in the alien world that’s getting taken over to feel kind of like this one scene. As in there is no hope left and all they can do now is warn others.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_of_the_Worlds_(2005_film)

[hellostarlight20]

Soldier's Solstice 3/

One upon a time, the Doctor could talk for England. That time has passed, and now he isn’t much for conversation. He retired to a small cottage on the Welsh coast. He rescued a dog and named her Idris. He had no contact with the rest of his family. His plan was to stay there, with minimal contact with the outside world, and heal.

And then the single-person space pod crashed to his beach during his pre-dawn run. So much for his quiet life.

Nine/Rose Nine is a human, Rose is an alien Soldiers/warriors Earth-based AU Jack Harkness and Idris Rated T for now but I’m positive that rating will jump. As always, I’m eternally grateful to Mrs. Bertucci for her invaluable services as beta extraordinaire. This entire story is based on a manip by the lovely @rose–nebula.

AO3 and TSP and Tumblr: One Two

3 “If Earthlings—”

“Humans,” he corrected, too many Sci Fi B movies racing through his brain. “We’re called Humans.”

She nodded as they made their way up the beach. “If Humans have yet to make outside contact, why are you so—so amenable to my presence?”

He looked at her; Idris sniffed their trail and no doubt the cockerels, and the damned pod felt heavier with each push. His back screamed in protest and long-healed scars tugged uncomfortably. Still, no matter how his body protested, he felt invigorated to move like this again.

“Suppose I could scream and run away.” He snorted. “Not really my thing, though. Too damn curious, me. How come you speak English?”

“Translator chip.” She took her position at the pod and shoved. She grunted; they moved more slowly, tiring quickly. They needed to move faster if they wanted to cover the pod’s track from the beach to his cottage. “I speak all Earth’s languages—or you hear your language, at least. I’m not sure how Martha managed to program it so quickly, we hadn’t much time.”

“Martha?”

“The High Duchess, Martha of Royal Hope.” Princess Rose straightened and looked into the distance. “My closest friend.”

“Was she banished, too?”

“No. The High Lord Emperor doesn’t know of her allegiance,” she whispered.

The Doctor eyed her, not entirely certain he believed Princess Rose’s story. Too few details—then again, if she told him a longwinded story involving a lot of people he might not believe her, either.

They finished moving the pod in silence, Idris sniffing at the long streak they left in the sand. It was harder once they left the beach, but no one lived near him, and the Doctor managed to push the blasted thing up the dune, probably illegal, and through the stone gravel without too much trouble.

“You planning on using this again?” he asked as Princess Rose propped the door open with her foot and steadied the capsule on its side while he pushed the damned thing into the cottage.

“No,” she admitted. “I wasn’t really planning to survive the crash landing.”

He straightened and looked at her, frowning as he stretched his back. She looked round the cottage, a small, sparsely decorated place with a proper fireplace and enough wood to see him through the winter. He usually didn’t light the fire, it never warmed him anyway.

“Is this your home?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s lovely,” she said, smiling at the windows and the hideous wallpaper he hadn’t bothered to change when he bought the place. “Are all Earth domiciles like this?”

The Doctor sighed and turned for the kitchen. The scent of coffee permeated the air and he desperately needed his first cup. “No. This is south Wales,” he told her and poured himself a mug. “It’s like nowhere else.”

He fed Idris, who scoffed down her food as if she hadn’t eaten in days and hadn’t hidden her treats round the cottage for a midnight snack. Waiting for his dog to breathe, he threw a dental bone into the living room where she happily chewed it as if she didn’t get one every day.

“Coffee?”

Princess Rose tilted her head. “Is this a beverage?” she nodded at his mug.

“Bit unprepared, yeah?” he asked and poured her a mug anyway. “Can you even eat the food? You can breathe the air, that’s something I suppose. But there’s food, drink, place to sleep. Money.”

Princess Rose sipped her coffee and grimaced. Without a word, he offered the cream and sugar, and watched her add them in increments until she nodded, moderately satisfied. It was a stalling tactic and he knew it. But if seeing a space pod land on a Welsh beach shocked him, he couldn’t imagine what landing on an entirely different planet had done to its occupant.

“I had very little time to prepare,” she admitted. “The Imperial Forces captured me at the gates and marched me directly to the High Lord Emperor.” She stared into her mug, voice distant, fingers clenched around the cup.

“Princess—”

“Rose.” She met his gaze, golden eyes soft and sad. “It’s just Rose now.”

There was more to her story. He didn’t know much about royalty or titles or other planets, but the Doctor could figure one thing out. The princess part of Princess Rose of Powell meant she was somehow connected to the High Lord Emperor.

He didn’t pry. Everyone had their secrets. Far as he was concerned, they could keep them. He had enough of his own.

“Rose.” He nodded in acknowledgement. “What did you plan to do once you arrived here?”

He didn’t want to say landed. Sounded too farfetched, too 50s Sci Fi even for him. Idris trotted into the kitchen and plopped her head on Rose’s lap. The smile the woman sent his dog stabbed through the Doctor as surely as Saxon’s knife had through his back. Wide and happy, that smile showed the pure joy of unfettered and instant love.

Clearing his throat, he caught her gaze. Her smile dimmed, which pained him, but she didn’t stop scratching Idris’s head.

“I know some people. They may be able to help you get settled.”

“I shall need currency, yes? And a skill.” She frowned and stopped petting Idris, who bumped her hand in demand for more attention. “I’m afraid I have little other than tactical knowledge, I commanded my—my armies for several cycles.”

His tongue burned to ask her more, but he felt he had quite enough information in his poor brain. He’d seen a good portion of the world, the good, the bad, the ugly—never once had he seen an alien. Huh. Saw something new every day.

“I never asked.” Rose stood and looked contrite. She folded her hands in front of her and bowed her head. “It’s rather rude of me. To whom have I the pleasure of meeting?”

“The Doctor.” He cleared his throat but there was no need to tell her his given name. “And that’s Idris.”

“Doctor.” Rose’s eyes widened “Perhaps the stars sent me to you for a reason. Or perhaps Martha had a say in my destination.”

“Have you need of a doctor?” he asked eyeing her. “I’m not a healer, if that’s what you need.”

She’d pushed that pod well enough, showed no outward sign of injury, and certainly hadn’t complained on their slow trek along the beach.

“No. No, I’ve no need for a healer.” She grinned, a quick twitch of her lips. And was…was that her tongue peaking at the side of her mouth? “It’s a saying on Powell—the hand of the doctor shall mend the heart and soul.”

He looked at her oddly, fairly certain doctors did heal people, but not sure if a soul on Powell could literally be healed. What did he know of Powell? But Rose had turned to Idris, crouching gracefully in front of the dog, swords no burden at all.

“I’ll call Jack after breakfast.” He turned for the fridge. “Hungry?”

This was the longest morning ever.

[sylviathewanderer-blog]

Sylvia’s Sci-Fi Series - A sneak Peak

So I've mentioned that I enjoy writing science fiction before. Well I was working on a sub story to go along with an episodic series I've been working on. The sub story is about the alien that crashes on earth and leave behind the wreckage that eventually gets reverse engineered and used to create humanity’s star ships. Each small section is told during the opening of every episode as a way to explain the history of the universe and important events that tie into the main story in some way

Currently, I haven’t posted any of this story anywhere else as I’m just not sure where I’d do that. I’ve also never had any of my writing published. This is just something i enjoy doing for fun, though I would love to let others read my writing eventually. So far the only people who have read my work have been close personal friends.

This community has been so nice to me and helped me so much while I tried to figure out just who I am that I figured I should try to give something back. If you like it let me know, especially if you know a good place for me to start posting the series as a whole so it has a place to live, grow, and be seen by the rest of the world.

When this story begins it is 1947 in the USA and the main character is the sole survivor of the Roswell UFO crash. He’s been picked up by the military and is now being held at a secret military base. (i’m not happy with that section yet and am still rewriting it, which is why it has been omitted from this sneak peak.)

* * * * *

A small large headed grey humanoid sits alone in a tall wooden chair, his stubby legs hanging off the ground as he shifts trying to get comfortable in the stiff, unpadded seat. He rests his long hairless arms on the top of a small square table placed directly in front of him. A single light hangs directly above his head barely illuminating the rest of the small barren room. He drums his fingers idly on the surface of the table while looking at a large mirror set in the wall in front of him.

“Yup, real intimidating guys. . .” he says rolling his large eyes. 

He straightens up as he hears the door to his right side unlock. The door gives a slight groan that nevertheless echos loudly around the mostly empty room. Two humans, a man wearing a military dress uniform practically covered in metal bars carrying a second chair, and a woman wearing a soft pink A line dress with her dark curled hair mostly tucked up under a small pink hat holding a clipboard and a pen. The military man sets his chair across from the alien and sits in it folding his arms across the surface of the table and glaring deep into the alien's large grey eyes.

“Ah, so I guess that makes you the 'Bad Cop' then?” The alien asks holding back a chuckle.

The military man looks from the alien over to his female cohort raising an eyebrow at her.

“We have very good hearing. I was listening to you both going over your plan in the room behind the one way glass the whole time.” He leans around the man in front of him to give a wave to the mirror across the room “Hi, other guys back there still! Don't bother whispering, I can hear that too. . . Yeah, even that.” He slowly leans back to sit straight in his chair again giving the man across the table a satisfied grin. 

“Then you know why we've come?” the man says with a snarl never dropping his piercing stare.

“Yup, you ‘mean to see a man about a ship’. Am I right?”

The small framed woman steps forward. “We don't wish to steal your ship from you. We mean to offer you a trade. A. . . er, an offer of purchase!”

“Yeah, I've been hearing all about that.” the alien says waving her off  “Dunno who the 'Rooskies' are, but I'm sure they'll be shaking in their boots.”

“Are you interested in hearing our offer.” The man states rather than asking trying to maintain his own illusion of control over the situation.

“Yeah, and I'm not interested in any of your currency, land, nor any resources. I could use a beer, though!” The grey alien shifts his glance between the intimidating stare of the man and the look of shock on his assistant's face. “What? I'm an alcoholic, alright! There, you made me say it. What is that, Step 1 on the road to recovery?”

The woman lowers her clipboard and cants her head to one side feeling her grasp of reality slipping a bit. “You'll sell us your ship for a beer!?”

“Oh, not just a beer. I want all the beer I can drink.”

“That can be arranged.” The man in the uniform says flatly, letting a small smile drift across his lips for the first time since entering the room.

“And I want one of the ships you produce after reverse engineering the wreckage. That point is non-negotiable. Wipe out your Rooskies. Take up asteroid wrangling. I don't care what you all do after I leave. I just don't plan on spending the rest of my life stuck on this rock!”

“You'll help us then?” The woman asks approaching the table.

“As long as I get what I want out of it and you guys don't try to pull anything on me, absolutely. Keep in mind though, I hear everything!” The alien says leaning over the table and giving a glare of his own.

* * * * *

A small grey skinned man roars in frustration slinging a stack of papers off of a low table screaming in his own native tongue as he paces, stomping back and forth across a room filled with diagrams and wall sized computer terminals.

A woman with dark curly hair wearing pressed business attire walks into the cramped workspace. “I-is that cursing or some kind of drinking song from your home world?” she asks laughing a bit to herself.

“Swearing! Definitely swearing! What the Hel-” he stops as she raises a carefully trimmed eyebrow. “What am I supposed to do with this. . . garbage!?” he yells motioning to a large computer bank with a pair of tape reels spinning on the front of it. “Is this seriously the best computer your planet has!? Magnetic TAPE!? Your species seriously hasn't figured out nano-cellular processing yet!?”

“Sorry if my people aren't sufficiently advanced for your liking Mr. St-Straz-zt'dak-ou-” 

The alien shakes his head at her “Don't hurt yourself trying to say my name. Just call me Grey like everyone else. It worries me every time you try to say it. Your eyes start rolling into the back of your head and you do that odd lip. . . pucker. . . thing.”

The woman stops suddenly feeling very aware of her own facial expression. “Oh. . . I er. I'm sorry, Mr. Grey.”

“I do like that thing you're doing right now where all the blood is rushing to your cheeks, though!” He says giving her a smirk.

She whips around trying to hide her blushing face. “Please. Just stop teasing me for a minute so i can try to help.”

“Look, the problem is that with computers like this, we'd need the ship to be larger than this entire base just to make fit one powerful enough into it.”

“Can't we copy the computer your old ship used?”

“Not without material from my home world. We're going to have to wait for you guys to learn to build more compact computers with what you have. The first step will be ditching the tubes and the tape.” He shoots another scornful look at the large spinning reels “I'd love to teach you how, but I'm not a computer engineer! I'll start working on propulsion in the meantime, but this is a huge setback!” Grey says pulling a few schematics out of a filing cabinet.

The woman bends down picking scattered sheets of paper off of the floor. Most of the drawings are clearly done by hand and the text is stretched, crooked, and a bit oblong. “You're handwriting is just terrible. You know that?”

“Yeah, sorry I wasn't raised writing in English. You only have, like, five good letters!” 

“Oh?” she says as she straightens her stack of paper

“Yeah O, Q, C, G and D. . . U is almost tolerable, but the rest can fu- . . . I can do without.”

“Sorry, that was insensitive. I wasn't thinking about what your native texts look like when I said that.”

“Nah, don't worry about it. This whole thing has been culture shock for everyone. Am I clear to get some fresh air, yet?”

“Sorry, it's still light out.”

“I don't see the big deal about people seeing me. So I'm an alien? There's tons of us out there! I don't even look all that different from you all, just healthier in color, less hairy, and not as badly stretched out!” Grey says rolling his schematic out on the table and looking over it.

“They're afraid it would cause a panic. There's been all of those movies about aliens attacking folks and all.”

“And who's bright idea was it to start making those?”

“Well, the hope was that seeing aliens would slowly make people comfortable with the whole idea of your existence. Then Hollywood went and made you all the monster of the week, and. . .”

“Yeah, brilliant plan.” Grey stops working and looks up at her. “Why green of all colors though?”

“See, I was more confused by the antenna.”

“No that actually makes sense to me. I think they were trying to explain how I hear so well without visible ears.”

She laughs a bit, slowly rotating her pages and trying to sort them into the proper order before looking up at the small grey man carefully marking his schematic “Are you really us leaving as soon as we get your ship built?” she says after a moment.

“Why? You thinking about coming with me, or do you want me to stay here with you?” Grey says looking over at her.

She simply looks into his eyes feeling tears welling up in her own.

* * * * *

Grey slowly stretches his arms under twinkling stars enjoying the feeling of the cool night air on his thin arms. He tilts his head back stretching his neck and shoulders while staring out into the black.

“Hey, Carla, what are you waiting for? It's a nice night out here!” He calls out to the curly haired woman standing in a nearby doorway. 

She slowly steps out looking both ways before crossing a dirt road marked with deep jeep tracks. “Sorry, it's just cold out.”

“That's just your small fingers. Put on some gloves and you should feel fine! Here, sit.” he says patting the surface of a nearby picnic table.

She walks over slowly backing onto the top of the table and pulls her purse off her shoulder. 

Grey hops up beside her dangling his short legs over the edge. “So how long have we been doing this, now? Hiding like animals in the dark while we slowly building a super weapon for your government. . .”

“It's been a year, maybe two years, I'm not sure. Please don't call it that, though. We are building a space ship, one we can use to get humanity to the stars!” She says digging through to bottom of her bag looking for her pair of black Isotoners. 

“Come on, let's not pretend to be naive. I know exactly what I'm doing for you all. For me it's my chance to get back home, for you all it will be the weapon to end all wars.”

“I thought that was what the nuke was for.” She says slipping on her gloves.

“Heh, supposedly. It's never as simple as all that, though. Having the biggest, baddest weapons changes nations from being on the defense to suddenly scrambling for any excuse they can find to go on the offense. I've already heard rumblings about preemption. That's how it starts and then next thing you know, you are the evil empire that's threatening everyone else.” Grey says pulling a short hand rolled cigarette from his pocket and placing the tip of it in his mouth.

“Where did you get that!? That stuff is illegal. It's dangerous!”

Grey rolls his large eyes at her and pulls out his lighter to light it. “Tch, you believe everything you hear on the radio? This stuff isn't gonna cause madness. It actually does the opposite. It's calming my nerves which wouldn't need calmed if I got a bit of sunlight every now and then.”

“Say what you want, but it's still illegal!”

“Yeah, and so am I. What are they gonna do? Arrest me?” he says as he takes a long drag being sure to carefully blow the smoke away from Carla.

“Oh, that stuff stinks! I wish you would smoke tobacco instead.” she says fanning the front of her face.

Grey simply smirks watching her put on a show. “Nope, that junk doesn't work. Funny hearing you protesting now. You used to partake with me. You go and get married on me, they gave you a fancy title, and now you're going all proper on me!”

“We all have to grow up sometime, Mr. Grey.”

“Back to Mr. are we? Tch, what's this world doing to us?” He says a bit sullenly as he pulls the rolled paper from his mouth. “You can't tell me you don't want to have a go for old time sake.”

She looks at the gentle curl of blue smoke rolling off the end of it for a moment before reluctantly taking it. “You are a terrible influence on me, you know it?” She says before placing it between her own lips and taking in a long, deep drag.

“I just can't stand seeing you not being true to yourself, is all. You're bigger than all of this pretense and prudishness, and you know it.”

She blows out a long stream of billowing blue smoke toward the sky feeling some of her worry and tenseness slowly escaping along with it.

“See that? There's still a rebel in there, somewhere deep down, just looking for a chance to escape and run free.”

“Run away from her life and responsibilities with a crazy man from beyond the stars.” She says slowly before handing the roll back to Grey and pulls up her legs crossing her arms just under her knees. “Are we even getting close? Everyday that dream feels further and further away.”

Grey looks at the bruises on her wrists then down at the dirt and sand “It's slow. We have a lot of men working on it, but the technology just isn't there yet.”

She tucks herself further into her own legs resting her chin on top of her knees. “We're running out of time. Brass isn't happy with our progress. I'm starting to worry that they are going to shut the entire project down if we don't come up with something.”

“I doubt that. They spent all this time and money renovating this place and relocating everything so we could use the dried lake bed as a test site. Why go through all the trouble and resources just to shut us down a few years later?”

“Ha! Now who's being naive? You don't know the government the way I do! It's a bunch of old men with no real world experience, and even less patience, all jockeying for favor by making everyone who disagrees with them look foolish. They spent a ton of money on this project knowing that their enemies would accuse them of wasting tax dollars on us. They're demanding some kind of trinket they can throw back into their detractor's faces to prove that it isn't all a waste.” Carla says frowning as she looks down at her smoking partner.

“Science doesn't work that way.” Grey says trying to wave the comment away with a long hand.

“Yeah, but politics does, and for now politics is paying the bills.”

Grey huffs loudly looking back up at the sky. “Humans and your damned obsession with money. . . It's no wonder you all are so far behind.”

“You never cry.”

“Hmm?”

“I've seen you get sad. I've seen you sulk. I've seen you mope. I've never seen you cry.” Carla says staring down at him. “It's therapeutic, you know. You don't have to pretend to be tough for me.”

Grey laughs. “It's not that. I'm not pretending to be anything. My species can't cry.” he pulls at the bottom eyelid of his left eye. “See? No tear ducts. I couldn't cry if I wanted to, which I don't. It's just not an instinct my people have. Instead we use sarcasm.”

Carla laughs a bit “Wait, but if you don't cry then how do you clean dust from your eyes or keep them lubricated?”

“We didn't evolve from mammals like you. We came from amphibians.”

Carla tilts her head slightly still looking into Grey's large eyes.

He sighs a bit “We have a secondary eye lid that has a mucus coating for that. It's hard to show you because it closes at the same time as our primary eye lid, but here.” Grey grabs his top and bottom eyelids holding them open. They twitch painfully as he closes his other eye and slowly forces the slimy secondary lid to slide out from the side rolling away from the center of his noseless face. He lets go of his eye lids and blinks several times from the irritation. “Did you see it?”

“No I missed it. You'll have to do it again!” Carla laughs

* * * * *

A soft blue convertible speeds across a dried lake bed trailing a billowing cloud of dust and debris high into the bright blue sky. Behind it sirens and alarms ring out echoing across the desert. Carla holds onto a wide brimmed hat steering her car with one hand trying to maintain control while getting as much speed as she can out of the vehicle. In the passenger seat Grey sits on his knees watching chaos erupt from the military base behind them. 

“We're doing this thing! We're actually doing it! We're going on the lamb like Boner and Clyde!” He yells over the sound of the engine roaring

“That's Bonnie and Clyde” Carla calls out looking over at him. “And I'd like this to go a lot better than that! Forgive me if I don't want to see you, me, and the car all filled with bullet holes!”

“Hey, I'm just glad to be out of the base and in the sunlight!” He turns around and stretches his arms. “It's been years since I felt the warmth of a star on my face. Where are we headed anyway?”

“Mexico. It's about the only place we can reach that won't expedite!” Carla says as she steers the car towards an unmarked dirt road. “This is stupid. This is idiotic. I had a future! I had a position. I had money! I had a comfortable life! I'm a married woman! What in the hell am I doing!?”

“I think this is called an affair, isn't it? Or do we have to sleep together for it to become an affair? Wait, what was eloping again?”

“It's treason! I'm going to be caught and killed. I'm going to get us both killed!”

“No, treason is when you betray your country.” Grey pauses for a moment “Ok, yeah this is treason. I mean for you. For me this is just a prison break. . . maybe oath breaking, too. Shit! I'm not helping am I?”

Carla bites her bottom lip shaking her head as the car bounces down the uneven road. 

Grey slides over and puts one hand on her shoulder and uses the other to slowly stroke her back. “We're in this together now. You and me against the world just like its always been.”

“I don't see a way out of this. I don't know what to do. You're sure about that signal? There is a ship nearby and you can hail it?” She says fighting the urge to look into his eyes for comfort.

“Absolutely, it's not one of my people's but it's friends! I've got the radio from my ship all I need is something to rig it with to use as an amplifier and we'll have a pickup in seconds! Don't worry, I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. We are going to see the stars, Carla. You and Me, out in space having a real adventure! No more stuffy military bases, no more shitty husbands, no more being yelled at for not being able to do the impossible! Real freedom!” He says gently patting her back.

“Alright, I'm calm. Please get back in your seat and buckle up. I can't do this without you.”

“Heh, yeah seat belts, like that crap ever helped anybody!” 

The car swings a wild left screeching it's tires as it turns onto a paved road at full speed. Grey suddenly feels himself pulled away from Carla and flung over the passenger door. His long fingers barely reach the door in time, pulling his entire body down around the outside of the car. His eyes sink down to his feet as the road zips past, each bump and rock threatening to take off a foot as they scream past. Slowly he hoists himself back into the car. 

“Alright, seat belts. Good call. Wouldn't want to get hurt.” He straps himself in still feeling his heart pounding away in his chest. “What's that sound?”

“They're scrambling choppers to track us. We need to find some cover to ditch this car and lose them.” Carla says feeling her own heart racing.

“Helicopters? Dammit! This is why you don't piss off the military. They have all the good toys!”

[mst3kproject]

K19: Hangar 18

If the History Channel were to make a movie, Hangar 18 would be it.  

We open in space, on a shot of the same 1/100 scale space shuttle model kit I built as a kid, except theirs has a better paint job. You can tell it's sci-fi because the credits are in a public domain approximation of the 80s NASA font.  During the mission, a satellite collides with a UFO – the satellite is destroyed, the astronaut who was working on it is apparently decapitated, and the UFO itself makes an emergency landing in Arizona.

From here, two things happen.  The surviving astronauts are somewhat upset when the ensuing coverup blames them for the death of their colleague, so they set out to find some proof of what really happened while the government tries to keep them in the dark.  Meanwhile, scientists attempt to study the UFO, and learn that Erich Von Däniken was right about absolutely everything and aliens invented MP3s long ago.  Eventually, the people in charge of the conspiracy decide that this is going to ruin everybody's careers if it gets out, and crash an RC plane into the hangar where the saucer is being kept.

Robert Vaughn is in this.  His ears are still distractingly small.

Before I say anything else, permit me a small Space Nerd moment. Nobody involved in this movie had any idea how things are done in space.  You can't just throw on a space suit as if it's a light fall jacket. It takes at least fifteen minutes to get into the multiple layers of padding and cooling systems and then you gotta double-check all your seams because you really, really, really don't want anything to leak in fucking space.  Spacewalking astronauts also have to pre-breathe, which gets extra nitrogen out of their blood so they won't get the bends.  The shuttle's three main engines were only used on ascent and the shuttle itself had a minimum crew of four. The lack of detail on their shuttle sets and spacesuit costumes is utterly laughable, as is the tiny mission control room that looks to have maybe twelve people in it.

Some of this may be blamed on the fact that Hangar 18 was released in 1980, while the real-life space shuttle didn't begin test flights until 1981.  Thing is, the production actually thanks NASA in the end credits, which suggests that they spent some time there and had plenty of opportunities to ask questions like, “what would this look like?” and “how long would it take to do that?”  So either they didn't bother to ask, didn't bother to use what they'd learned, or just didn't care – and as a result the beginning of their movie looks like something out of Mighty Jack.

All right, with that out of the way, what is this movie supposed to be?  Well, as I said above, it's the History Channel.  Hangar 18 is basically a distillation of the entire modern UFO mythology (yep, here I go again), complete with Men in Black, abductions, Area 51, ancient astronauts, and crash retrievals – all in a ninety-six minute nutshell!  The only thing it's missing is a cattle mutilation.  The problem is that none of these things really make any sense when you think about them with your tinfoil hat off, and the movie doesn't try very hard to make sense of them.

First, there's the whole 'government cover up' angle.  In the movie, the bigwigs don't want anybody finding out about the UFO at first because they fear it will affect the outcome of an impending election.  In the interests of keeping things quiet they move the craft to a secure facility and pay off the witness who saw it land so he won't talk to anybody – sure, that works.  But there are also the two astronauts who watched this object kill their colleague.  You would assume that they would be interviewed and then told about the need to stay mum for a while... but this never happens.  In fact, for reasons that are absolutely not remotely 'reasonable', the conspiracy just ignores the astronauts entirely until they start making pests of themselves.

When a news story breaks blaming the two astronauts for the death of their colleage, the higher-ups don't even comment on it.  When the astronauts themselves start asking questions, they are shut out, followed, and harrassed, until one of them and at least four of the federal agents are dead.  Why was any of that necessary?  One guy did suggest, right at the beginning, that it would be easier to just write them a cheque and ask them to take a vacation while this all got sorted out, but apparently trying to assassinate two celebrities in public was much more acceptable.

At the end, the conspiracy realizes that the saucer itself has become a liability.  If anyone finds out about the stupid decisions they've already made, their careers will be over, so it's time to do one more mind-numbingly idiotic thing and blow the whole thing up.  Oh yes, clearly, destroying the scientific find of the millennium and killing everybody who knows about it is the obvious solution.  That will definitely make all their problems go away.

Naturally it does not, but we never really see the consequences of this.  A voiceover tells us, as the credits roll, that the people who were inside the ship survived the blast and the fire.  The secret is now out, but we never get a hint of the fallout.  At the end of Captain America: the Winter Soldier we saw the evil senator getting arrested and a glimpse of Black Widow testifying, and that's enough to assure us that everything turned out okay.  In Hangar 18 we're supposed to take it on faith that the conspiracy guys will be punished, instead of, say, vanishing into 'retirement' on a tropical island somewhere. We're not supposed to be curious about the effect these revelations will have on society, or what will happen when the aliens actually return.  Any of these things would be a more interesting movie than watching two guys in bell-bottoms getting chased across the desert by Men in Black.

The UFO itself had quite a bit more effort put into it than anything else in the movie – maybe this is why they had no money left and were forced to settle for that plastic model kit of the space shuttle.  In space it is visible only as an arc of orange lights, actually looking rather like the Phoenix Lights of 1997, and is really kind of eerie.  Then we get a closer look at it in the hangar, and find it is nothing at all like the standard-issue flying saucer we were expecting.  It looks more like a piece of industrial equipment you'd find at an oil refinery, with a strong sense of weight and scarcely a hint of aerodynamics as we know them.  The first time it appeared, I honestly wasn't sure what I was looking at – was that supposed to be the UFO?  I'm not entirely sure if I like this treatment of it, but it definitely surprised me.

The inside of the craft looks more like we might expect a UFO to look, with silver walls and blinky lights and dead dudes with shaved heads.  Much is made of the fact that symbols on board the spaceship are identical to those known from assorted ancient cultures, but the ones we see are all completely made up because that means they didn't have to do any research.  The space armadillo in the glass tube is somewhat interesting.  The blonde woman who wakes up screaming could have been interesting, but the movie just puts her in an ambulance and forgets about her.

Then there's the aliens.  This is the bit where the movie goes full Von Däniken, with a character proclaiming that human evolution has been shaped by these beings from the start.  That's why we and they have identical internal organs, right down to the useless bits like the appendix and the nictitating membrane.

Human anatomy is derived from the same primate ancestor as that of the other great apes, which in turn is derived from the last common ancestor of all mammals, which is derived from the last common ancestor of all tetrapods, which is derived from the last common ancestor of all vertebrates, and so on, and so on, and so on.  There is nothing in our bodies that other animals don't have in some form, because we all began with the same source material.  You can follow this right down to the molecular level: every living thing on Earth uses the same chemistry, because we all have a common origin.

If we're positing that a creature from another planet has the same internal organs as us, it doesn't matter how much they're supposed to have messed with our genes, it's still ridiculous.  A true alien would have had to start from scratch.  There's no reason why they would even use the same genetic code as us (for example, with three A's in a row coding for lysine, aka the one the Jurassic Park dinosaurs can't make), let alone have an appendix.  For these aliens to be responsible for our anatomy looking just like theirs, they would have had to guide the origins of life on Earth from its formation, and kept an eye on it since to make sure it didn't wander off on an evolutionary tangent before inventing bilateral symmetry or something.

Don't even get me started on the idea that aliens could interbreed with us.  It'd be like trying to create something that was half-human, half-watermelon, only even more so.

Other than the strange-looking UFO, Hangar 18 doesn't offer us anything particularly memorable.  The characters aren't very interesting, the aliens are utterly forgettable movie aliens, and the effects are unconvincing at best.  The story avoids the more interesting ideas it brings up and sticks to the obvious. It's mediocre and disappointing, and I can't imagine I'll ever want to watch it again.

[woohooligancomics]

Webcomic Whimsy: Nextuus!

Welcome to the Woohooligan Weekly Webcomic Whimsy! If you're a webcomic author and would like a review, you can see my announcement and review rules here.

Title: Nextuus: the Search for the Ocean Shard

Author: "Undoubting" Thomas Hotka • Facebook • Twitter • DeviantArt • YouTube

Site: Nextuus.com

Genres: Action, Adventure, SciFi, Space Opera, Cyberpunk, Espionage, Illuminati, Treasure Hunting, Psychic, Square-eyed minecraft people

Rating: PG13, T for Teen(?) - some language and violence

Updates: Tues, Thurs, Sat

My Starting Point (requested by artist): Chapter 8.

Synopsis: Space opera treasure hunters in a world with aliens and psychics. (I couldn't find an official synopsis on the site.)

Nextuus is the name of an Earth-like planet in some other part of our galaxy that's been settled by humans (the Confederation), and subsequently conquered by another alien race called Donts. (Rhymes with font.) According to geologist Alec Dougan, the crew of the hoverplane (not starship) the Truemark are treasure hunters. Their green-haired boss and pilot, Randall Lockheed, prefers "entrepreneur". Once famous for his exploits, Randall will find anything for the right price, although he's fallen on hard times and disbanded his crew for many months. The story opens on a new job and Randall getting the band crew back together. Add in an illuminati-like cabal of psychics and it makes for an interesting setting.

I see a lot of influences in this work: Star Wars, cyberpunk, a little Star Trek, etc. but what it reminds me of most (despite the inclusion of Aliens), is Joss Whedon's sci-fi TV series, Firefly. To be fair, Tom Hotka and I have been friends for several years, though I never got around to reading his comic work until now. He actually waited in queue like everyone else for this review and has been real patient with me while I've been struggling with some health issues in recent months. In any event, when I say it reminds me of Firefly more than of Star Wars or anything else, I mean that what I've read of the story focuses a lot on the personal relationships of the crew, who resemble the Firefly crew quite a bit. The crew's hoverplane is described as an "ancient" junker (Serenity), their mechanic is a wide-eyed girl named Elle (Kaylee), who came aboard to escape the utter boredom of her one-horse town and who doesn't seem to notice that Aareck (Simon) has a massive crush on her. Randall (Mal+Wash) claims to be all-business, but it's implied that it's all really about getting back together with his ex, Liz (Inara).

Admittedly, I'm playing a bit loose here, since Aareck isn't a doctor, he's not looking after a psychic sibling with a tragic history, the psychics are an illuminati-like cabal called the Waywachrie, and I assume Liz' profession is not companion. The major players in the political climate do however include the Confederation (probably more like Firefly's Alliance than Star Trek's Federation), and while weapons look to me like conventional firearms (Firefly) and there are no Star-Wars style lightsabers (that I can tell), swords appear to still be common (okay, Mr Universe made the point that the sword was weird in the movie, so maybe this isn't a Firefly thing).

As an aside, I have to give Tom props for some decent disguise humor. ;)

Also, my first impression while looking for some kind of synopsis was that it seemed a little Seussical when I started reading about Ways and Donts on the About page. You see, there was a Dont War, but not with Ways, because Ways don't war, Dont's war. Let's all be grateful where aren't any Whos... yet. It's a bit less comical once you realize Dont rhymes with font, but you'd have to read their description for the pronunciation guide. It occurs to me also that there's no page to describe the Confederation, which is described as the human government in the descriptions for the Nix (think CIA) and the Nextuus Planetary Defense Force (NPDF), and I'd like to see the crew of the Truemark separated from non-crew characters on the About page. And in general, I think a synopsis of the story would be helpful on that About page as well.

Tom asked me to start reading at the beginning of Chapter 8.

I dunno... is it normal to go through all that procedure when your engine is belching thick black smoke and you're crashing or damn near? "This is your captain speaking, at this time we're going to initiate crash-landing procedures, but first we're going to let the flight attendants finish taking your drink orders."

Two comments on the art here. First, although it's a bit hard to look at, that double-vision effect does a really nice job of simulating the shaking camera effect. Nice job, Tom. Second, and I'll expand on this a little more later, but I think this page could have had two of these panels, and possibly a panel or two from the following page could have been included here. The dialogue from the tower could have been presented in the same panel with Randall's dialogue, and in general, I don't see the visuals in the middle two panels adding any information to the scene.

No, we're not screwed! We're option-challenged!

To be honest, I think "you're coming in a little too steep" would have been a great punchline at the end of that first page.

Wait... is she fixing her hair during a plane crash?! <looks back> Oh, her hair was on fire, she's putting it out. I thought you were supposed to stop drop and barrel roll...

Also... you're allowed to just hang-up on air-traffic?!

I think I would have made the latter 3 panels here a single panel and daisy-chained the dialogue balloons together, using just the art from panel 3, or possibly a profile shot like panel 2 from the first page.

I think this is the moment where I really started thinking about Firefly. That line from Elle about parts falling off the plane just feels so close to the opening of the Serenity movie.

This is also the point at which I start feeling like there's a pacing issue. I realize I'm sounding like a broken record, and maybe people will just write it off when I say this from now on, I'm certainly not any kind of authority, but most of the comics I've reviewed so far seem to me to be slow getting important info to the reader. It's not always the same kind of info, for example, when I read Modest Medusa I interpreted it as primarily being a slice-of-life comedy (surreal though it was), and there the missing info seemed to be details about the main character's life (family, job, etc). In Next Town Over, which is a steampunk action/adventure, there's obviously a backstory that Erin was trying to keep in the dark and let readers piece together, although I felt like the brief glimpses of backstory were infrequent and often too short to be meaningful for me as a reader.

Nextuus gives me a wholly different kind of "sluggishness" for lack of a better term. I feel like the story is moving and things are being revealed, but that Tom is giving me too many visuals, which bumps the page count up. It's not too noticeable at first, I'm just reading along, but then over time, those creeping page counts seem to add up and I end up feeling like a whole chapter went by without revealing much information. At present, Nextuus is 34 chapters and a total of 1053 pages, and while I'm sure there are fans out there who enjoyed every page, for my part, I'm thinking about the printed volumes. What's that? At least 10 trade paperbacks? I know Tom's had four successful Kickstarters for volumes of Nextuus so far, and in his video for the last one he said the first three volumes were fifteen chapters, so if a chapter averages around 20-25 pages, you're looking at five chapters per volume being 100-125 pages? That can't be right... not with over 1k pages so far...

Okay, I'm getting into the weeds here, I apologize. What I'm getting at is that any extra panels or extra pages are going to drive up the price of the books. You could still get Volume 4 for $25 on his last Kickstarter, which is a reasonable price for a trade paperback, but I wonder if the size didn't eat into Tom's margin and make it harder for him to make ends meet in the long run. So... long story short, Tom, I think if you could cut a few of those panels in future chapters, it might help you bring costs down and may even help bring sales up if the readers feel like it's more "action packed" that way.

And that's where we get the two page landing sequence that I feel like really could have been one page.

That picture of Elle at the top grabbing the co-pilot seat, I feel like really would have worked better as the last panel on the previous page, also because then you get to see her standing behind the chair and then grabbing it without the page-break as an interruption.

So if you put the first panel from the previous page onto this page with these three panels, I think that would have worked out nicely.

The big dude on the right is One-15, who joined the crew in response to an ad. He's said to be from the planet Carthe and while the details of his anatomy are left ambiguous (I think intentionally), he certainly feels to me like a robot with an air of Star Wars (you can't say "droid", or the big silly mouse will sue your ass into the last century).

While I'm on the subject of pacing, it feels to me like Tom is kind of married to individual pages being 3 or 4 panels. This page in particular, although it is four panels, certainly feels like it has plenty of empty space that could have been used for another panel or two. Shift the first panel over to the left, slide panel 2 up on its right side, repeat with panels 3+4 and you've got a whole third row that could be the top two panels from the following page.

Aww, Elle, don't you want a puppy?!

I think that second panel is meant to be a joke? I dunno... it feels either like it needed a little more work as a joke or it's sort of unnecessary in the page.

Fine, I'll get him, just stop looking at me like that! Seriously, what is that look in the first panel?

No place that's described as "south central" has ever been a good thing. It could be south-central Candy Land and you'd still take a gun just in case of a peppermint stickup... shoot them in the candy heart, wrap them in a trash-bag and drop their body in the ice-cream floats.

Also, dude! You totally had room for the first panel of the next page up there. Look at all that empty space!

Randall, look out! There's a zombie behind you!

Aww, One-15, don't you want a puppy?!

Mustn't... look... at... empty space!

Auuugh! The empty space! It was right there at the end of the previous page! Begging for this first silent panel.

I don't think I've read enough to know for sure, but I do feel like Tom is emphasizing Aareck's interest in Elle here while writing Elle as oblivious. That's not exactly the relationship between Kaylee and Simon in Firefly, as Kaylee always showed interest in Simon, she just wasn't sure if he felt the same way until they made the movie.

Following this, I don't feel like a whole page of Aareck's commute was really needed. Maybe just the last panel where he checks the address in front of the building.

Aareck and Alec... what are they Hobbits? Biffer, Boffer, Bofer, Ron, Don, John, Kurt, Burt, Bart, Evan, Devin, Kevin...

The "ding!" sound effect at the top I think could use a little more contrast, maybe a wider white border around the text and maybe lay it on top of the company logo, becuase when I first saw it, I saw "6 Ding!"

Man, I've heard of hostile work environments, but this is ridiculous! Dude quits and the boss thinks the best way to get him to come back is to berate him as he's walking out the door? That's like domestic abuse. Chill out. Try some meditation, or Xanax, or maybe Hair Club would help take the edge off.

Randall needs to lighten up? Your last boss is apoplectic, looks like his head's gonna explode and shower the room in bald-juice.

I really need more contrast on those dialogue balloons. Several of the tails for balloons in these office pages are virtually invisible, like the middle two panels on this page. I know you're not putting borders on your dialogue balloons in general, but I think you probably should have broke with tradition for these pages.

Cynthia doesn't know what she's lost, man... a guy like you, who can appreciate the finer things in life. Like the rush of addrenaline when you see a high PH balance in a soil sample!

In retrospect, I would be fine with this entire scene starting on this page (above). You could cut Aareck's commute, walking into the building, asking for Alec and all that stuff with him quitting his job. I get that there's a bit of comic relief with the boss, I'm just not convinced it's worth three whole pages for that one joke about the bald guy who desperately needs to switch to decaf.

And then in other places I feel like the dialogue could be an easy way to shave some pages. At the end of the page where Alex says "I've always been a little jealous of you", there's plenty of room to add "because you got to stay with Randall when he disbanded the crew." It would have saved you a panel and it wouldn't have changed the meaning of the dialogue in any significant way. I'm also iffy on the need for this whole page to point out that Tim is the kind of guy who holds grudges -- that's better explained via the character interaction in the subsequent pages where Randall talks to Tim (a good case of show, don't tell). Speaking of which, this whole page where Randall presses a doorbell also seems unnecessary. I could maybe use the opening shot of the side of the building, although I honestly think the next page (below) is fine on its own.

Yes, hatred has a hard use-by date. After two years it immediately molds and that's when you start doing crazy shit like scrap-booking newspaper clippings and writing cryptic letters in haiku under assumed names.

Anyway, Tim lets Randall in and they dispense with the small talk. (I really think those could have been one page.)

Ack! A minute ago when I called those newspaper clippings and haiku letters crazy... you know I was kidding, right? Tim? Buddy?

Man, I'd have thought they'd have much better reconstructive surgery this far in the future!

On the other hand, it's nice to see Baron Underbheit is keeping busy.

I said no small talk!

Anyway, Randall says he's all business, but Tim's convinced it's still about Liz.

One Way or the other, I can never really tell them apart... Are you sure it wasn't One Direction?

Now this is getting interesting though, because I'm like 24 pages into the chapter and so far I've mostly heard talk of broken hearts, broken airplanes, and soil samples. Now we're talking about psychics and anti-psychic devices, that's cool!

Oh, uh, hi Liz. Oh me? Emotionally scarring children with my horryfing visage, but let's not talk about me. How have you been?

Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly repurpose the cheapest random objects we can find as props. It's the best we could do with the budget the network gave us.

It looks like Randall's gonna keep psychics out of his head with a giant slinky. :P

Fashionating!

Anyway, that being the end of Chapter 8, I think this fairly makes my point about the pacing of the story. Yes, there was some information in this chapter about the character relationships, but the only movements in the plot were that Alec returned to the team and Randall replaced his slinky-helmet.

Chapter 9.

The bags under your eyes alone should be a dead giveaway!

Also, it's the elusive comb! The rarest relic in all the galaxy! All these characters seem to have that Dragonball-hair syndrome.

Oh, I forgot to mention, the continents on Nextuus are named Primaris, Secundus and Tertiann. I suppose it could be worse, they could be A-ko, B-ko and C-ko.

Is it common for war orphans to enlist? Oh wait... there was that one guy...

Trust me kid, the Clone Wars were overrated.

Oh, for Pete's sake!

Your uncle sounds like A. Square.

Not sure his reaction to the haircut needed a whole page, but they did need to make him unrecognizable.

Wait... didn't she have a comb a minute ago? Maybe she was distracted by all his impure thoughts. But what's a little non-consensual probing between friends? Incidentally, Katja felt the probe was necessary because Jon was given adrenaline-activated powers by a corporate experiment...

On our world, robot technology has only reached three feet. We could only dream of having robots like you, tall enough to dunk! We have to settle for robots that are tall enough to reach the kitchen counter... with help.

The text balloon in panel 2 is a good example of why I'm not a big fan of the square dialogue balloons. Here it's created a parallel and/or bump-up tangent, and possibly a "fake panel". If you're not familiar with tangents, Chris Schweizer has a good article about them that's tailored for cartoonists like us. On the whole though, the square dialogue balloons in Nextuus seem to create these kinds of issues quite often.

A good handshake involves bone fractures, check.

That was really two panels worth of content, max.

Aww, Elle, don't you want a puppy?!

Elle twerks the engines and Randall returns without Tim. (Maybe this page isn't unnecessary, but it feels like a lot of room to say "it's good to see you again, Tim's not coming.")

Challenge Accepted!

The last panel there wasn't really necessary -- One-15 is carrying a bag at the top of the following page, where Aareck stays to help Elle. Oh wait! That page had five panels. :P I'm not sure it needed a second page though to show Aareck getting ... rejected? Dude, if you ask to stay and help the mechanic, she's going to put you to work... whether you're hitting on her or not.

I'm dying to know!

Oooh, psychics 101! You'll never have to ask anyone to pass the salt again. Does it work on pepper? What about buffets?

Okay, but if you're going to teach me, maybe you should wash that oil off your face first. I smoke a lot, I don't want to catch your face on fire.

Luke, you can destroy the Emperor. He has forseen this. It is your destiny.

Oh, for Pete's sake!

Why do villains always put spotlights over their valuables? Why?!

Oh, that's not makeup, it's a scar. Anyway, that's the end of Katja's backstory for the moment and they rinse Jon's hair.

Given the context and the fact that Katja laughs, I'm thinking gray hair is supposed to be a joke? But without knowing why Jon is unhappy about it, I'm not sure I get the full effect. Have people joked about him being "old", like Aareck's objection to "pup"? Does it make him look like something or someone he wants to avoid? Even if it's just not liking looking old (eye-bags and all), I think it would make a snappier joke with a little additional response from Jon. Maybe, "Great, now if I can just remember where I left my cane/walker/Geritol/dentures."

Overall, I think all the elements of a really cool scifi story are here, I just think the script and page layouts could be a little tighter. In particular, I love the visual design of One-15, his ambiguous physiology (robot or armored organism?), and the use of him for comic effect. I also love the Waywachrie's Illuminati-like structure and I think their masks are pretty cool. They're described as "skull masks", but they look to me more like grinning ghosts because of their round shape. That's totally fine by me, if anything I think they would be a lot less cool if they looked like more realistic skulls. So a+ on design there, at least from me.

So there's my pitch. If you enjoy scifi stories with intrigue, psychic cabals, and a lot of personal relationships, check out Nextuus!

If you are a webcomic author and are interested in a review from me, you can check out my announcement and my review-request rules here.

If you enjoyed this and want to help me make more reviews, you can contribute on our Patreon or if you're short on funds you can also help by checking out and sharing my own comedy and laughtivist webcomic, Woohooligan!

Thanks to Tom, and to all of you reading, for sharing yourselves with us! Sam