Author:
Simulacrum
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Date:
4/11/2012 6:45:09 AM
Subject:
Need more science fiction stories in here
I'll start.
Dr. Mort Schweinhund checked his readings. Then he checked them again. No doubt about it. There was activity on the moon.
His colleagues had long dismissed his theory that the moon could sustain life. They believed that it was a barren planet, pockmarked by meteorite craters which would have killed any important life forms long ago (the actual meteorites, not the craters). Also, there was no atmosphere; otherwise, how could so many meteors impact the surface?
Dr. Schweinhund knew differently. How, he inquired, did his colleagues explain the obviously human face on the moon's surface? And now, how would they explain his readings? His read-outs told him that organized activity was being carried out on that supposedly dead surface -- carried out by
intelligent beings.
Realizing that his colleagues would dismiss the readings as moon gas or some other reasonable anomaly, he had contacted his friend, Major Dirk Savage -- the best test pilot in the world and the hero who dropped the first atom bomb on Hitler's bunker.
Savage looked over the readings and scratched his prematurely gray but handsomely square head. He gazed at Dr. Schweinhund with his piercing blue eyes and set his rock hard jaw (Major Savage set his own jaw, not that of Dr. Schweinhund).
"I can't make heads or tails of it, Mort," Savage admitted.
"Those little dots." Schweinhund pointed to some specks on the photograph Savage was holding in his hands -- hands that were strong but not brutal, articulate but completely masculine.
"Oh, yes." Savage nodded. "What do you think is going on?"
"A preparation for invasion."
"WHAT?"
"That's right. Moon men who have cleverly hidden themselves for thousands of years are preparing to invade our planet. I can't prove it, but if we don't act now . . ."
"Great Caesar's ghost!"
"Yes, Dirk. This is serious."
"What should we do?"
"How soon can you get a rocket?"
Savage pondered only a moment. "I can have my personal rocket ready in two days."
Schweinhund frowned. "That may be enough time."
"Don't worry. I'll get the boys together and we'll take care of this."
"Good. Good. Can you take an extra passenger?"
"You, Mort? No, I'm afraid not. This mission is for trained men, proven combat veterans, bravos in arms. Besides, you're too old."
"No, not me. I meant my daughter Natalie. You know she's the best moon ecologist in the world."
"What? No. We can't take women."
"Is that so?" The voice belonged to a strikingly beautiful young brunette dressed in a lab coat. She took off her glasses and removed the pins from her hair, shaking it to her shoulders. "I'm fully qualified for any rocket. You men can't have all the fun."
Savage thought for a moment. "Well, okay, but you'd better pull your weight. Have you got a space suit? We don't have any for girls."
Natalie laughed. "Did you think I only dress in this lab coat?"
"Hmmph. Well, do you have a ray gun?"
"I have a Martington 9000-A."
"That's impressive hardware for a woman."
"I had it modified. It's small enough for my hands. And it's pink."
"Can you cook?"
"I make the best casserole you'll ever eat -- moon or no moon."
"Well, okay, but the first time you start crying or screaming, I'll kick you out the airlock."
to be continued . . . by me or whoever else wants to . . . continue . . .
