Fertile Land

"Gotta be careful with technology," warned Jameson. “Let me tell you about Tuonela."

The old pilot sipped his whiskey, then continued.

"They used these nanobots nicknamed 'undertakers'. The wee buggers disassembled decaying organic matter, then buried it in the ground. For farming, right? Except . . . something went wrong with their programming - they stopped distinguishing between living and dead. Most people didn’t make it off the planet. I swear I could hear the screaming from orbit."

I gaped in horror. "You serious?"

Jameson stared mournfully into his glass.

"Why do you think it’s famous for being the greenest world in the system?"

Sacrifice

Treyghin held the bright-edged knife with a clenched fist as he looked upon the offering. Its face was pale, lips tight, breath rasping quickly. Clearly scared, but trying to hide it.

"Rejoice!" cried Treyghin, "For your life's essence is truly a divine gift for the Goddess."

The man's throat was stretched taut; Treyghin could see the arteries pulsing fast and strong as blood hammered through them. He slashed deeply with the blade, opening the neck. The figure instantly disappeared behind a crimson curtain.

Treyghin was surprised at just how much blood was washing over the mirror. The Goddess . . . would . . . reward . . .

A Welcome Visit

The soft sodium light that edged its way through the half-open blinds was a perfect metaphor for his life, thought Nigel. It was mercilessly unchanging, day after mind-numbing day.

The background susurration outside, unnoticed till now, became loud enough to get him out of bed. Huge bristling shapes ringed with lights were descending from the sky. Dazzling streaks lanced down on the cityscape, shattering buildings. A cacophony of sirens and human suffering began wailing into the night.

Nigel stared, electrified. It was a Goddamned. Alien. Invasion.

The hardest part about this apocalypse, he figured, would be pretending he wasn't excited.

The Last Drop

I activate the holopad and cherish the minute forms of my family one more time. The roar of the plasma cannons is fading. If they have done their work, much of the population of the planet below has been obliterated. This will make our job easier - but still not without danger.

If I survive this mission, I go home. The Great Expansion can continue without me; I just want to hold my children again.

A jolt signals the release of the clamps holding my dropship. Sol-3, soon to be bereft of its strange bipedal primary species, grows majestically beneath me.