The Creative (short story) - eBook

The future of humanity hangs in the balance as the Indomitable has taken over and it's up to the Creative to lead the revolution.

But when the Creative is captured and wounded, their last hope dies - until a brave soul volunteers for the sacrifice.

Little Sister, or Little One as she's known, must put aside her doubts and step up to save humanity.

This fast-paced sci-fi story is perfect for fans of the Illuminae Files trilogy, as it shares the same themes of survival and transcendence. If you enjoyed those books, you'll love The Creative. Buy it now!

 Taken from the collection How To Make Friends With Teenage Anarchists.

Excerpt:

Nora slouched next to me against the jagged cobalt wall as we sucked the nutrient sack’s tube through our helmets sealed to the scarlet suits. I dazed at the old masculine prisoner with violet eyes. He was lying on a wedge under the electrical water ceiling, which trapped us all in our community cell, and tapped his cane against the barrier, releasing sparks. Each zap tensed my older sister.

“Stop that,” Nora said.

He stared across the yards of space, prisoners, and stones into her feminine citrus eyes and smirked. Nora growled and tensed. He chuckled, returning to his tapping.

“Ignore him, big sister.”

“His tapping is insanity. He thinks he’s going to escape,” she said. “Even if his silliness works, the Indomitable will stop him. We must wait for the Creative. She will free us.”

I nodded and whispered, “She will.”

**

One of the adult masculine prisoners dropped to the ground and grabbed at the glass around his helmet. His body shook, struggling to inhale tanked air. This had happened before. The Indomitable sent us to a planet with a cyanide atmosphere. To breathe, our suits were equipped with oxygen tanks refilled every 30 terrain cycles. But they were never maintained. After long periods, mucus, phlegm, and saliva found its way down the tube that fed air into the tank and clogged it, eventually sealing it.

Nora and the others offered their backs and shoulders to the struggling masculine. Maybe I was lightheaded from not eating much or tired of ignoring death but I confronted him. He found my citrus eyes and reached out. Tears painted his cheeks. I had never seen one struggle so hard for life.

“Help me,” he wheezed.

If I break the helmet he will instantly die from cyanide poisoning. Death was the only option. But to suffer alone like that in a space so crowded.

I stood, crossed the cell, and knelt beside him. Lying on his side, his thick-gloved fingers dug at my suit. His mouth stretched to consume what little oxygen dribbled through the clog.

“Little sister,” Nora called. “Leave him in peace. Don’t make his final moments torture.”

I rested his head on my legs and rubbed his back. “Be calm,” I said. “You’ll find a better place soon.” I noticed the air tube that held the clog was similar to the tubing of the nutrition pouches. “Nora, retrieve me a few of the used pouches!”

She glared as if I had lost my mind, matching the others in the cell. “What for?”

“Please,” I said. “Three or four of them.”

She sighed in frustration, gathered the pouches from the garbage pile, and dropped them at my side.

“Stay,” I said. “I need your help.”

“I don’t want to be a part of this,” she said. “It’s disrespectful.”

“Let the soul pass in peace,” an old feminine shouted. “Stupid little one.”

“She playing a game?” an adult masculine asked.

I stared up at Nora. “Please. I can’t do it without you.”

Nora dropped to her knees. “What do you want me to do?”

After yanking the food tube out of a pouch and blowing it clear, I measured it longer than the clogged one. Nora pinched above and below the air tube. With my teeth, I cut the clogged part off and, realizing the pouch tube was slightly bigger, pushed the suit tubes inside.

“Release it?” Nora asked.

“No,” I said. “I still have to seal it. It’s tight, but cyanide could still leak in.”

I ripped up the pouches in thin strips, wiped the pasty residue on my suit leg, and tightly wrapped around the tube. Using the same strips, I tied knots to hold the wrappings in place, not too tight to clamp the flow of air, but enough to keep them in place.

I leaned back on my feet, blinked the sweat from my eyes, and glanced at Nora. “Slowly.”

As her fingers hovered, oxygen hissed through the tube and into the helmet. The adult masculine, on his side and his head on my lap, hitched and blinked. The condensation on the other side of the glass dried out. Gasping replaced his hitching. His first breath sounded like a thousand tons of metal crashing, but also joyous.

“He’s breathing,” Nora shouted.

The other prisoners, who had been circled around us the whole time, exchanged amazement and shaking heads. No smiles among them except from the old masculine with the stick who was still on his wedge under the water barrier.

**

The claxon for new prisoners awoke our cell. Only a few of us sat. Fewer and fewer prisoners had been coming in. Rumor had spread that once the Indomitable was done imprisoning all life from the inhabitable planets he planned to destroy the useless prison planets. That way, the homes we used to live in would not be damaged and perfect for repopulation.

Only one body dropped in through an open section of the water barrier. Before landing, the helmet cracked on a large rock. Nora and I rushed to the new prisoner and knelt around them. I rubbed my gloved hand over the helmet’s glass and gasped at the old face as the dazed, citrus eyes stared up. I had seen Her before in education sessions and news streams before the invasion when I was a tiny one. She looked stronger, defiant, and dangerous back then. Now She appeared tired, worn, and weak.

“It’s the Creative,” Nora gasped.

The other prisoners - now awake, now curious – stood around to witness.

Some gasped in horror. Some started to cry. They all voiced their denial. Nora sobbed into my shoulder. One of my hearts swelled up in intense loss and defeat, wanting to share with the others. But I held back and squeezed my big sister tighter as she whispered her despair.