Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 1.6.18 Paradoxed (Plus!): Conclusion

Paradoxed (Plus!): Conclusion

Marius held the tiny vial containing the alien plague virus, and inserted it into the protective casing he carried with him. “I’ve got it! Let’s go before the alarms reset and the security system is back online.” He put the armored casing into his pack and opened the airlock to the lab, after it cycled and sealed the room behind him.

But it was too late.

The alarms had reset a few seconds before he’d expected, given his previous time there, and klaxons blared when internal building sensors registered the two intruders.

“****! Guardbots will be here in seconds! Hold my hand, and I’ll try to chronoport our way out.”

The Tempest grabbed Marius’ hand, and trying desperately to shut out the sensory overload, her hypershard accessed the space-time manifold to rip a hole in the fabric of the universe for their escape.

The pair, deadly sample in safe storage, fell through space-time together. Tempest screamed, and she felt as though her head were on fire; agony filled her world. It felt as though she might lose her grip on her companion at any instant. It was all too much for her, trying to chronoport out while futilely trying to filter out the overwhelming noise.

Just as she felt herself ready to black out, it was over. “My, child, you almost didn’t make it!” A familiar purring voice trilled as a fur-covered, noodley armed paw helped her recover her footing. She saw that Marius had cuffed his wrist to hers, passed out from the space-time turbulence of the near-blind chronoport attempt.

“Here, let me slip that off. You made it here alive, just barely, so it won’t be needed.” Sarusammog touched the wrist cuffs, which unlocked and released the two recent travelers.

The thief groaned as he woke up, “Did anyone get the transponder signature of that hit-and-run starship pilot who rammed us?” Saru grinned – well, actually Saru always grins, but this time even more so, and relieved Marius of his burden. “I’ll just dispose of THIS nasty little item like so . . .” He trilled, using his paradox engine to delete the virus sample, quarantine box and all.

“Hmmm. I still remember everything. How much longer until that fades?” Marius asked.

“Well, my human friend, it varies with each paradox. Usually an hour of time for every minute out of synch the new timeline and old are. Since the old timeline has been disrupted and in a profound way, I give you a day before your prior life and memories reset. Here, let me make just one more paradox, to send you on your way to something less troublesome for your livelihood than petty thievery!” Marius began to fade, as this version of him shifted into a new set of circumstances, and soon he was gone.

“I suppose that’s it, you big fluffy.” The Tempest smiled. “I’ll get back to my viewing now. Before this, I was really into a cool show on the interstellar net archives about these extinct fossilized creatures from Terra called whales. Too bad there aren’t any more. Maybe one weekend we could paradox them back, that is, if it doesn’t burn out your harness!” “Hmmm. A novel idea, child!” Saru’s third left paw stroked his green fluffy chin in thought. “Yes, it should be a simple matter. I’ll have to work out the equations for that, and see if it adds up!”

Saru caterpillared over to a portal facing an arrangement of stars in space, “Before you get back to that, let me show you something. I’ve been hopping back and forth in time, using some of the relic technology I perfected when I was part of the Nine Who are One, before the big falling out we all had. See those stars? Here, let me zoom in a bit!”

The portal seemed to suddenly show a streaming effect as stars blue-shifted in space, zipping out of the field of view, to enlarge the suspiciously symmetrical cluster of stars, gravitationally bound as the vertices of a twelve-sided regular solid.

Saru had been busy for the multimillion-year span of his jumps through time. One star zipped into view, dominating the sky, surrounded by what looked like spinning, roughly cylindrical objects arranged in perfect stable orbits at various distances around the star, a red dwarf with no large planets. “I’ve been doing some stellar and planetary engineering, and disassembled all the large worlds in the systems of this star cluster.”

It zoomed ever closer to one of the objects.

“Here it is! One of our gardens! All throughout this star cluster, and in each of these orbital spin habitats, created from the planets I took apart, and arranged just so, are plants and plant-like life-forms from worlds elsewhere and else-when in the universe!

Each is suited to its own ecology and is perfectly adapted to any one of the
environments maintained there! I thought to build it on the scale of our library. It’s still not finished!”

The portal closed this time, then opened again showing the inner cylindrical surface of the object, spinning to simulate the gravity of a world half again as massive as Terra.

There were miles upon miles of flowers visible on the inner surface, perfectly
maintained by femto-technology, subatomic robots, and growing low to the ground, with thick stems and broad blossoms. Tempest worried momentarily about Saru’s workaholic streak, but then considered that being a green, fluffy, adorable alien timegod gets kind of boring on occasion and requires a certain level of activity to stave off ennui. She marvelled at the colors before her, then turned, scratched Saru behind Its ears, and chronoported her way back to her rooms.

As the only surviving being with one of the four Prime Hypershards still in her
possession, she was uniquely empowered to go when and where she liked.

Maybe after the show, she could visit the Agni in another segment of time and babysit for her grandchildren again on Terra. Yes. That would be cool!

Copyright © Troy David Loy

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com
https://troythulu.blogspot.com
on Tumblr at https://troythulu.tumblr.com
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at: https://www.amazon.com/author/troyloy

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Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 25.5.18 Evicted

Evicted

The clawed octopoid towered over the comparatively tiny human standing defiantly at its feet. With its waking, a wave of madness had swept the planet, and this world looked as though it would meet its end. But still the lone human stood there, waiting.

“I know you can understand me, just like last time. We both know I can speak with anything that has language, so I’ll warn you just once: leave. This planet is protected, and you are not welcome here. Maybe come back in a billion years after the sun brightens and the oceans have boiled away on their own. And I know how you’re causing the madness outbreak, you fraud. ‘Cosmic Mysterium Tremendum,’ my ***!

You’re using a planet-wide psychotronic disruptor network, which I’ll just shut down like so.” The human clicked his finger, as a wave of blue light rippled across the planet, shorting out the network of alien devices as sanity returned to the suddenly lucid but bewildered humans, those who did no serious harm to themselves or others under the influence.

“Get off this planet, you charlatan. I’ve got worlds to create, not pretend gods to unmask!”

The octopoid stood silently for a few seconds as others of its race gathered nearby.
Then, it began to unfurl massive membranous wings, of the sort that could ride the solar wind, and soared skyward as its fellows followed suit. In minutes, they were gone.

This world would survive, at least for a little while longer.

Humans nearby gathered around the man from a distance, terrified by the fact he had the power to stand down Old Ones, but grateful that he had saved their lives and minds.

The man glanced at them, saying, “You’re all safe for at least another few million years, until the next alien catastrophe ambles along, or you get smacked by an asteroid. But don’t get used to it. I only sent him on his way this time because he once tried to cheat me in a game of cards. I hate cheats.”

Copyright © Troy David Loy, 2018

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com
https://troythulu.blogspot.com
on Tumblr at https://troythulu.tumblr.com
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at: https://www.amazon.com/author/troyloy

Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 18.5.18 Gr’ozz on the Hinterlands, Conclusion

Gr’ozz on the Hinterlands, Conclusion

The centaurs moved in formation to take best advantage despite their small numbers. Gr’ozz was with the chief, and seemingly tireless as the long stride of his massive legs helped him easily keep up with the centaurs’ four on only two. Gr’ozz’s gills let him breathe silently despite his need for oxygen, hardly making a sound in the cool night breeze.

Gr’ozz suddenly had an ill feeling, like something would go wrong, and he had the wisdom to show it, gesturing his misgivings to the chief, who nodded gravely, for he felt it too. Still, to let the enemy advance was the greater danger, so on they went.

Suddenly, their eyes adapted to the night, was the painful glare of floodlights in their path. The enemy knew they were coming. They had been expected. Through the glare, they could see the enemy in formation and ready to attack, gauss weaponry with depleted uranium slugs aimed at them, reptilian lips under helmet-shrouds pulled back in serrated-toothed smiles clearly not expressing good intent.

“Me, Gr’ozz will burn you, Bad Men!” roared the dimwitted reptilian giant, fully twice the height of the Dragons, as he opened his mouth wide, and spat forth a stream of superheated flame, hot as the atmosphere of the sun. He incinerated three squads of enemy troops before they could pull back and regroup. The centaur chief drew his massive steel longbow and with his fellows, fired into the enemy formation, as orders were shouted to subordinates on both sides.

Dragon troops fell as heavy, steel-tipped arrows mowed down the front line while those to the rear took their place and began firing. Now it was the centaurs’ turn to die. Then Gr’ozz went berserk, rushing into the enemy formation with his bone mace flailing, broken bodies in crushed armor plating falling with each swing. Behind him, the centaurs had pulled back, and though having taken losses, fought like devils as the Dragons tried to target them with gauss rifles.

Gr’ozz had effectively lost it, crushing and burning Dragons as he drove into the enemy ranks. It seemed as though he would win as the Dragon formation became increasingly chaotic. That is, until they played their ace. A heavy armored vehicle had entered the fray, a Dragon assault tank, aiming its main cannon array at the centaurs.

“NO! You not hurt half-horses!” roared a berserk Gr’ozz, “Me, Gr’ozz will save!” He dove forward, placing his massive body between the cannons and the centaurs, and took the brunt of the shots to his own midsection, falling backward, prone and bleeding, but not before preventing what would have been certain death for the centaurs. At the instant he was shot, he had crushed in the turret of the vehicle with both fists, effectively putting it out of action.

The Dragons pulled back in full retreat, as the surviving centaurs continued firing into them. In moments, all was quiet, as the centaurs gathered around the fallen giant. Gr’ozz opened his eyes, not yet glazed over. “Half-horses safe?” He rumbled to the chief.“Yes, they’re gone, for now. We’re safe until they bring a larger force. You did it.”

“Me Gr’ozz am happy. Gr’ozz do good. Now Gr’ozz to go to sleep forever . . . .”

Motionlessness, a brief hiss of escaping breath, then silence.

Gills stopped opening and shutting. Eyes were now blank and staring into eternity, dead eyelids closed by semi-equine fingers as a sign of respect. “He shall be remembered in story, in legend, as the Great Scaly One, slow in mind though quick in cunning, first in battle, and of hearts three sizes larger than most.” The centaurs gathered ‘round, and gathering brushwood, set Gr’ozz upon it, lit it, his body to be consumed by the flames as the centaurs, voices lowered and chanting a litany for the dead, tossed rare herbs into the immolating giant’s pyre to send him on his way.

Goodbye, Gr’ozz. You were fun to write about, but for you, this is The End.

Copyright © Troy David Loy

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com
https://troythulu.blogspot.com
on Tumblr at https://troythulu.tumblr.com
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at: https://www.amazon.com/author/troyloy

Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 11.5.18 Gr’ozz on the Hinterlands, Part 2

Gr’ozz on the Hinterlands, Part 2

“Me, Gr’ozz say that Bad Men carry weapons more scarier than bows! Much more scarier!” Gr’ozz rumbled to the centaur chief’s council around the campfire that the war party had lit to frighten off predators at night. “Half-horses in big danger! But Gr’ozz want to help, maybe help drive them off if lucky!”

“How many have you seen, Scaly One?” the chief inquired. The humanoid vocal
equipment of the centaurs would not permit them to pronounce Gr’ozz’s name
properly, which sounded like a bull elephant trying to trumpet in a quartet with three asthmatic crocodiles.

“Me, Gr’ozz seen many, lots of squads, with big, big weapons, big tanks and guns! Kill many small armies!”

“I have fifty troops with me, Scaly One. With bows we can take out the troops, but any war chariots will be a problem. But you have no ranged weapons, and surely you cannot take them out with just bare hands,” He gestured to Gr’ozz’s left arm, tipped with a mace of sculpted bone grown from his arm, “We MUST arm you with something more your size that can take them on at range. It would be suicide to go head-tohead!”

“Ha! Me, Gr’ozz am good with fists; strong like elephant, wise like zen master, tough like steel. Plus, Gr’ozz use trick on dumb Bad Men that work every time!” “Then we may make it out of this alive, even victorious!” A scout had just entered camp and whispered something in the chief’s ear. The chief nodded and whispering an order to her, turned to the others.

“The enemy has set down for the night. It will not be the most honorable thing we can do, but we move out in an hour for a surprise attack. We need any advantage we can get. Scaly One, you will be with me and on approaching try to disable their war chariots, or ‘tanks’ as you call them!”

“That good! Gr’ozz can do!” “Then we ready within the hour,” the chief addressed all in the camp.“This is our only chance of stopping them, advanced weapons for not. Let’s not waste it!”

To be concluded . . . .
Copyright © Troy David Loy, 2018

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com
https://troythulu.blogspot.com
on Tumblr at https://troythulu.tumblr.com
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at: https://www.amazon.com/author/troyloy

Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 4.5.18 Die, Fractus, die!

Die, Fractus, die!

“I will greatly enjoy your demise, mammal, and that of all your kind. I’ll rid my universe of your pathetic species, O little ‘god.’ But in retrospect, I must thank you for yourhospitality, unwilling and unwitting as it’s been. You’ve been so kind as to have me as your guest. I’m touched.”

“So this little universe you’ve created will make a lovely base of operations once I’m finished with you. So, be so considerate as to expire, won’t you?” Dasaelos Gurao casually closed his massive scaly hand around the throat of his victim, lifting the battered, enervated form of the Fractus to eye level at his height of three meters.

The Fractus struggled weakly, still barely alive, desperately trying to grip the massively muscled forearm of his assailant, to try to breathe. Dasaelos had used a hypershard cloaking system and caught the Fractus unawares in his sanctuary pocket universe, and the rest followed from there.

The reptiliaform giant squeezed, tightened his grip until he felt his victim’s windpipe give, and heard the neck vertebrae give a satisfying Pop! Even the medical functions of his hypershard couldn’t save the Fractus from a crushed windpipe and broken neck.

He had already begun turning blue in the face. The old man’s form went limp, as his hypershard struggled uselessly to repair the damage while the alien warlord maintained his grip.

In moments, Dasaelos looked into the dead, staring eyes of the Fractus, squeezed one more time, just to make sure, and dropped the body to the floor in a heap. A booted foot crunched ribs and collar bone, for good measure, as the giant stepped onto and over it.

He activated a neutrino-com implant in his three throats with a sequence of rumbling bass tones, and contacted his underlings.“This is your leader. Zero in on my signal and teleport me home at once. The hunt has been brilliantly successful. The Fractus is dead, and we now have a useful new place to continue our operation. Send in a crew to dispose of the body, and to destroy the dangerously damaged hypershard residing in its skull. I want a building crew and machinery in here as well to construct our new base. Over and out.”

This day, the warlord thought to himself, I have earned the title Killer of Gods. I foresee glorious slaughter of the hairless apes overrunning the galaxy, and it shall be good.

Copyright © Troy David Loy, 2018

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com
https://troythulu.blogspot.com
on Tumblr at https://troythulu.tumblr.com
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at: https://www.amazon.com/author/troyloy

Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 27.4.18 The Magnus

The Magnus

The Mirus collapsed to the ground, exhausted and beaten nearly to death by his
opponent. But suddenly, light rippled across his form, and he stirred, rose to his feet, and seemed to find new strength. His eyes now balefully glowing a pale spectral green.

The bloodied and bruised face now bore a mocking and predatory grin, surgically
implanted fangs showing in a display of utter satisfaction with the situation. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. He, no, they, spat blood to their left as the medical functions of the hypershard repaired the damage to their body, bones clicking into place and resetting as tissue mended. Dasaelos stepped back a pace from what had seemed an easy victory, and the death of yet another of these upstart godlings of Earth. His suddenly no-longer vanquished opponent sized him up, as if seeing him for the first time. What is going on? The giant thought to himself. He was now getting very, very unsure of his chances of winning this fight. “Mirus?” His bass rumbling voice quavered just a bit in his uncertainty.

“Sorry, pal, but the Mirus has gone bye-bye for the moment, so you’re stuck with us instead. I am – we are, me and my hypershard together – the Magnus. Let’s get down to business, shall we? We’re sure it will be so much fun, even more fun than tearing you apart with our bare hands. Right now, we’re feeling a bit peckish, and you look like just the thing to feed on. There’s plenty of usable matter in that Brobdingnagian body of yours, Godzilla.”

“Feed on?! Have you lost your senses?” Dasaelos stammered, now confused and suddenly frightened. “No, just our humanity, such as that was, at least for the moment. The Mirus was weak, sentimental, unwilling to just kill you and be done with it. He’s overburdened with a conscience toward lunatics like you. He looked down on you, pitied you, underestimated you. He treated you like you can be reasoned with. We won’t make that same mistake.”

“Say goodbye, big guy. In your next life, make sure you think twice before crossing paths with us again.” The Magnus were serious about the ‘next life’ part. Dasaelos was a serial immortal, with plenty of cloned bodies in stock to replace this one. The Mirus – sorry, the Magnus – opened their mouth wide as the Rj’lt’ar giant took several more paces backward and then turned to run. The same pale green radiance that shone from the Magnus’ eyes now did so from their open mouth, jaws nearly distending as a lance of cold light shot forth from it, striking the alien warlord, enveloping his form, and fading as his body was reduced to a quark-gluon plasma and fundamental particles with even stranger properties, the whole vaporous mass being sucked into a pocket dimension outside of this region of space-time.

The Magnus gave a rude, hearty belch, their hunger stated, their spent energy reserves replenished. The clink of metal, of a translucent ring, still intact, glowing with its own light, unperturbed by the dissolution of the finger that wore it, sounded as it had fallen and struck a nearby stone. The Magnus closed their eyes, and their features softened a bitas the Mirus persona once again became dominant, once again his eyes returning to their normal Cerenkov blue glow. He strode over to the ring as it lay on the ground before him, picked it up, and handed it to one of Dasaelos’ lieutenants. “I know what this is, and I know what it does. Take it and begone. Remember to tell your master when he’s back never to set his hobnailed boots on any orbital body of this star system again. This system is protected, and he is not welcome.”

The Rj’lt’ar landing party winked out in the cerulean blue afterglow of a teleport
nimbus, on their way home. The Mirus stood there for a moment, looking to the stars above. Then, he rose skyward, riding the gravity well to orbit where his vessel, the Emulael Enza, waited. As he did so, he heard the faint whisper of his hypershard’s data flow, now fully aware of his new darker persona. And deep in the recesses of his mind, the Magnus smiled and winked to their outward self.
Someday, when they were needed, they would be back.

Copyright © Troy David Loy, 2018

Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 20.4.18 Farattuur’s Misfortune

Farattuur’s Misfortune

Farattuur looked about, suddenly nervous from the slightest crackling sound of foliage, the crunch, crunch, crunch of crushed leaves in the autumn forest. Something was tailing him, and it wasn’t friendly. He pulled out his officer’s laser, and scanned the area about him with smart-contacts that gave him a live feed of augmented reality data via drone telemetry.

He decided to switch to infrared, and suddenly caught sight of his pursuer. A big one, standing fully four meters tall, and carrying a heavy rifle that would look like a cannon to a smaller human. Damn. Mokthraga. They’d hired Mokthraga mercenaries. Farattuur remembered his last encounter with the species, a race of hominoid giants from a world rich in heavy metals. That did not go well for his team, sent to extract a fellow soldier from a combat zone after a botched mission.

“Bradak’Tul!” He shouted into the forest. “Show yourself! Meghuruut! Enemy!” The rippling effect of a cloaking device suddenly flared with a pulse of ultraviolet and cerulean blue light as the giant, or rather giantess, revealed herself, a woman of more than twice the height of an ordinary human, and built to support every centimeter of it, carrying a rifle that would make a Tyrannosaurus rex nervous about commencing hostilities.

It was a bit late to react for Farattuur, though, as the giantess had already drawn a bead on him, the telltale dots of a laser-scope already marking him between the eyes.

Odd. The weapon looked built from borrowed Broogh technology. It was an insight that did little good as he felt the nearly infrasonic “poom!” from a concentrated gravitic pulse, just before his skull opened like a raw egg and his body, now minus its cranium, toppled to the forest floor.The woman looked in his direction, examined her handiwork before packing up her weapon, whistling a happy tune, and went back to meet her combat mates.

Copyright © Troy David Loy, 2018