《The Stacks》 Terrain She realized she had been staring for a while, at this world so unlike her own. Soft dew lined the buds of the purple tree, it''s arms extending in delicate wisps. The orange hue of the sky interrupted by the slouching forest drifting up the mountain. As she stepped from the steel plank her boot met the crisp blue sand, forming an indent, but only for a moment. As she walked, the sand would weave and reform; leaving the landscape as pristine as before, perhaps more so. Moving toward the forest she thought of the path that brought her here. The trips and turns. But the landscape was transfixing and she was drawn back to it. It enraptured her as the ships warning system let out a futile bleep. The thick scent of the trees buds, through the masks filter, was almost as enticing as their sight. She continued to walk deeper through the dense foliage. It was hard to imagine anything so beautiful compared to the cold iron and rock back home. It was as if the whole landscape had been painted by a surrealist, one with an eye for colour. She looked for signs of animal life but saw none. Eventually the trees gave way to a field, sprinkled with jutting shoots and flowers. As she walked, they flickered and danced around her ankles, clearing a path through the blue sand. Her hand dangled, gently skimming the tops of the plants; some recoiled, while others allowed her to graze them with her suit. The touch was cool, but pleasant. The planet had no breeze to scatter the leaves and plants, everything lay peacefully. It was as if it was waiting for her, to show her the beauty of the path. Her walk led her to a clearing, perhaps a hundred feet across, it looked to be almost a perfect circle. As she walked towards it''s center she could see rocks ahead.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. They were pulled into some kind of pattern, it looked deliberately laid out; however, this place was special and nothing seemed out of the realm of possibility. It could have been a chance formation. As she approached she saw the stones were ashen white, and the blue sand was darker here than in the forest. Approaching one of the stones she placed her hand on it and was surprised by the warmth, even through the suit she could feel a depth, some connection. One of the large stone slabs was overturned on an angle, she climbed onto it and stopped on the centre, kneeling down before lying flat on her back. The warmth spread from the stone, comforting her and restoring her energy. She gazed at the vivid sky. Swirling clouds of gas formed and released overhead, their colours complementing each other before fusing. The space overhead showed a wealth of constellations. Two moons, one within another, were the focal point. She stayed and stared as the landscape shifted. It was transfixing; powerful, yet calm. The forest surged inward, flowing across the fields and towards the rocks. The purple vines yearning together. They raced towards her as she fell deeper into the relaxed trance. Her breathing slowing, the needles of the dials on her wrist slowly falling. She slipped away. --- Alice awoke from her nap, she scratched her chin absentmindedly. Her deep purple hair danced softly against the blue of her cheek. Her finger caught something rough and she flicked it away. She clicked her white teeth, part of her thought she might have swallowed a bug. Remembrance He stood at the edge of the memorial, the tall dark onyx towering before him. He looked in between the names, careful not to take in too much. It was foolish to even come here, the odds of triggering something were incalculable. Still, on today of all days there was nowhere else to be. The crowd was large by modern standards, perhaps thirty wide and three times as many deep. They all stood fixated on the memorial, in front of which a small stage had been erected. The man, perhaps a priest, was talking into a microphone that was suspended by a hanging cable. His voice boomed across the empty space of the square, bouncing back and reverberating. He spoke of honour, and how well we had all acted, how we lived on because of our actions. He reminded us that there had been no other choice, that in the wake of the coming onslaught, sacrifices had been made. And besides, they had only been a small colony. His eyes flickered briefly on a name, engraved into the dark onyx and it brought back a surge of memories. A young family, eager to start again, happy for the opportunity. Lives cut short. He began to tune out the names again, but that brought back the preacher. The speech, or sermon, must have been finished because some of the surrounding people started applauding, others cried. He directed us to look up at the sky, to gaze at the large dark hole where our moon had been. It was a sombre sight, a reminder of the war and the love lost. For a time he was unable to look away, and when he did the square was clear, save for a lone janitor sweeping debris off the stage. He had been lost in thought, thinking of the events that had happened so many years ago. No one was quite sure where they came from, or what they wanted. Even what they looked like was unknown for a time. What was known was that their tech outmatched ours. Their ships could slip and weave, chewing through three of our cruisers before vanishing again. Every able pilot and Gunner was deployed to the front, and we mounted a defense as best we could. The moon turned into a worker relief station, ferrying food and medicine to the war, and injured soldiers or empty ships back home. The dance seemed to be endless. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Eventually we realized we were losing, it wouldn''t be long before the moon fell, and they began boarding the planet. Those days were cold and hard on the ground. Most were content to watch the news on the encoders, desperately hoping for the tide to turn. It seemed the enemy knew we were losing as well, their raids became more brutal and less predictable. They hit hard and fast and frequently. Eventually we had no choice, we were backed into a corner. Every ship was scrambled in one desperate push back against their blockade. They were the bait, engaging as many of the flagships as they could. They even managed to draw the attention of one or two of the moving shipyards. It was what we needed. The planetary defense systems were refocused on the moon and it was detonated. He had turned one of the keys himself. Shit, it had been his goddam idea. Chunks of debris and shrapnel had shot off across space. It tore through the green tint of their shields before puncturing their vessels. We had timed it well, each of our ships in the battlefield knew exactly when to slip, and we had avoided casualties. For the most part. He gazed at the monument again. Except for those stuck on the moon, who had been sacrificed. He thought sometimes that they had lost something more as well. Some kind of cosmic connection darting back across time. A link to lost ancestry and distant peoples, all who sat under the pale moonlight. It was too bad, to lose something like that, a bad omen. But there was no going back now, and he had no regrets. Besides, the sun would rise in the morning. Like it always did. He turned and walked back down the streets toward the port. He tried to push back the thoughts that kept him up at night, not only of those on the moon, and the details of their case files, but other thoughts too. Thoughts of other survivors. One skittering enemy ship, tumbling through the endless space, desperately fighting against the damage. One bee left to return to the hive, with lustful thoughts of revenge on a blue earth.