Welcome to Sunday Morning Scifi – this ‘Swordfish Elegy’ is microfiction to help you wake up and greet the day with a smile. I started by posting the following to Mastodon and Bluesky:
And two people got back to me right away – good times! To honor their Sunday Morning Scifi Microfiction request, I’m doing both – here’s part #2.
I hope you enjoy:
Swordfish Elegy – Courtesy @pxplowsound
The picture, that was what he kept staring at. Sunlight on shiny, dark hair. Hopeful eyes. Winning smile. Diwan-e-Khan couldn’t take his eyes off the picture of his son. I came here for you. I might never see you again.
Freeya Freeah, the android, applied clear leakpaste to their cracked viewport. The asteroid field – so promising as a mineral resource – now a floating deathtrap. Powerful magnetic fields, undetectable until you were too close, nearly ripped the Swordfish apart. Frantic, last-second navigation saved them. Would they survive until the rescue, or had they delayed the inevitable? Rancor – the helmsman – wasn’t giving up. Diwan-e-Khan couldn’t afford to give up, either.
They called as soon as they heard. Of course they did. “Greetings – we couldn’t help but receive your distress call.”
Rancor sneered, muttering a Bolbish oath under his breath. Then he spoke to Freeya Freeah: “I knew it.”
The oily Oligarch-o-bot voice continued. “We’re happy to mount a rescue operation, but first let us discuss terms. For the low, low price of thirty percent of your equity, we will give you the priceless gift of your lives. If you agree, please signal so that we can begin signing the official Doc-o-sign signifying our agreement.”
“Don’t respond,” Diwan-e ordered. “It’ll just make things worse.”
“We cannot afford to ignore them,” Freeya Freeah answered, impeccable droid logic. “It is unlikely we can make it home under our own power.”
“Never accept the first offer,” Rancor said. “That weakens our bargaining position.”
“The hull has microfractures. We’re losing atmosphere in every compartment. If we don’t get back to base within twenty-two hours, there will be no one left to save.”
“Seal off all compartments except this one – transfer all breathable air back into the tanks. We can survive a lot longer than you think.” Diwan-e peered through the viewport at the nearest asteroid. “Any idea how those magnetic fields work?”
“Computer’s working on it,” Rancor tapped a switch. “They have some interesting characteristics, almost as if the magnetic fields are … ”
“Are what?”
Rancor looked up from his screen, confused and yet fascinated. “… ever heard of a sentient magnetic field?”
“You’re kidding.” Diwan-e Khan’s mouth fell open. “How can a physical force be aware?”
“Don’t ask me – I only work here,” the alien slapped the console. “No denying that the magnetic force activated when we arrived. Nothing, then as soon as we were close enough, it struck. The asteroids knew we were here and did something about it. That indicates some form of sentience.” His eyes blinked, a Bolbar’s sign of fatigue. “Danged if I know what to do about it.”
Diwan-e recognized Rancor’s fatigue, knowing it came from lowered oxygen in Bolbars. They were running out of time and options. “What about the tech VC ship?” Freeya Freeah asked. “They’re still waiting for a response.”
“Let them wait,” Diwan-e responded. “Let’s think about what we can do with those asteroids. Freeya – tap into the computer and start feeding the sensor data back to naviagation. Are you observing any patterns?”
“Sure, why not? It’s not like I need to breathe,” the android muttered.
“Hellooo?” the Oligarch-o-bot spoke again. “I’m authorized to lower the bounty on your rescue to twenty-five percent equity. If you agree, please signal so that we can begin signing the official Doc-o-sign signifying our agreement. Any response?”
“Man, I hope you find something before they figure out how messed up we are,” Rancor said. “Our life support just dropped from fifteen percent to three. We won’t last longer than six hours at this rate.”
Diwan-e studied his son’s picture, mentally crossing his fingers. If they accepted the rescue offer, he couldn’t afford to travel back to Earth – all his family visits would be across a remote screen. No way to be a father. Six hours of life support versus a lifetime of regret and lost hope. Tempting to lay back and let the darkness close in.
“Hold it,” Freeya Freeah leaned forward, studying the navicomp’s read out. “You were onto something – check this out.”
Diwan-e followed the android’s polished metal finger, seeing the vague torus shape of a nav-path among the asteroids and associated forces. “This system isn’t set up to trap us – it’s there to protect us.”
Rancor clapped two of his tendrils together, excited. “If we hit the ring right here, the associated magnets will turn into one big spaceship rail gun. That’s enough velocity to get us back home in two hours.”
“I can’t believe it,” Freeya Freeah said. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t,” Diwan-e said. “Something was bugging me about how fast the magnetic field activated. Who put it there, why did they do it?”
“Your guess would have been as good as mine,” the android said.
“Sure – only instead of seeing it as a threat, we see it as an opportunity. Our little magnetic trap just became an intergalactic runaway truck ramp.”
“I guess that’s why we keep the humans around,” Rancor commented. “We need those kinds of leap beyond logic.”
“Thanks, I guess.” Diwan-e gestured toward the Bolbar. “Punch it, and let’s put that Tech VC rescue squad to shame.”
“Counting down,” Rancor said. “Three … two … one …”
“Launch!”
The End
Thanks for the suggestion, @pxplowsound. I hope you enjoyed this Sunday Morning Scifi Microfiction called ‘Swordfish Elegy.’ I’m tired but happy – these were a lot of fun to do. Thanks again! Feel free to grab some of my other projects if you enjoy these little moments of joy.
