Authonomy – Friday Flash Fiction [FFF]
Post: FFF – February 7, 2014
Theme / Genre: The Letter.
Include: –
Words: 1000
Alien Letter
‘Still nothing to report, Sir. All tests negative: heat, sound, movement detection, microwave, sonar—’
‘How can that be possible, Quintin, The letter states they were all slowly killed, one by one, by this alien. We’ve had the ship in complete isolation. Armed robo-sentinel patrol, security droids, audio and video detection cameras, nothing has come out of there since the ship docked, even the rotting bodies of the crew are still on board, albeit now in vacuum tubes. But nothing, absolutely nothing, found, queried or reported.’
‘No, Sir,’ Quintin looked nervous, as he stood in front of the Admiral’s desk. ‘Perhaps the alien aborted once he’d—it, had killed the crew.’
‘Not possible, Quintin. It’s an alien, it wouldn’t know how to operate anything. Even if it did, then onboard log data would’ve told us about any hull breach or stasis lock use. This is no ordinary alien problem, Quintin, twenty-five mining crew are all dead and no sign of any murderer; despite a sealed and quarantined spacecraft,’ the admiral placed an electoprod under his chin and pressed the release button, a measured jolt of electricity surged and calmed his nerves instantly. ‘Ahh. The last thing anyone needs is an escaped carnivorous extraterrestrial, Quintin.’
‘Yes, sir. I mean no, sir.’
‘This letter is odd, can’t put my finger on it; possibly the shockingly bad handwriting. I’ll read it again.’
To those finding this letter.
As it gouges into me, I am steadying my pen on its back and it seems not to care. The pain is excruciating, but I have to warn you, we are the last two alive.
It’s killing me and I’m defenceless.
They have won.
By the time you read this note, you will no doubt have found the bodies of the dead crew, if so, then you are forewarned and hopefully aware of the remaining alien being’s presence — unlike us.
We did not become aware of their presence until seventeen had died, their disguise is unbelievably simple, their parasitic method of gorging on their host, astounding.
‘This paper is pretty thick, Quintin, and really messy with all the blood stains on the back of it. Good job I have these latex gloves, anyway…’
We incinerated those we found on the dead and dying. Their form is so cleverly disguised, they easily concealed themselves and we were unable to find them.
With just two of us remaining, we managed to kill them all, so we thought. Visiting the recreational centre the last of them jumped us in the library section.
They cling to you like paint, impossible to remove, biting through clothing—
‘I cant read anymore of this nonsense, Quintin,’ the admiral said, irritated he threw the letter over his shoulder. ‘Find it, Quintin, if it’s so goddamn awful find the bastard and incinerate it.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ and with that Quintin was gone.
The admiral sat, there was an odd rustle of thick paper behind him, but there was no wind…
