Conquest Sapiens

Winter today felt like death. Sor glared at the obvious trail leading to his concealment.

The scentless pale race had carried out a callous pogrom against his kind. He was the last. They’d extracted the cave tribe like so many snails from their shells.

The speed and nature of the slaughter had appalled. Herded into a clear space, Gargar and her people had seemed to shrink, then vanish in light when the captors had waved short sticks in their direction.

Better to die fighting.

Sor tensed. Someone– His crouching body disintegrated.

"The planet’s sterilized," the marine announced over her com.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Cabral

Immediately after he was stripped of his chevrons, Cabral ripped off his shirt, stepped out of his pants, turned, and ran. He hurdled the low stone wall, graceful as he could manage. Moments later, shot at but only nicked on the hip, he lay face down in the coop surrounded by surprised hens and their bolder cocks. He crawled, stopped, caught his breath, inhaled the scent of shavings and other leavings. Not far away he heard the bleating of the small disparate herd. “Why,” he later almost told his captors, “Why didn’t I seek the goats? That’s where I belong.”

From Guest Contributor Clyde Liffey