***
Far, far below, the servants huddled around the campfire, as close to its warmth as they could to hold the cold of the desert at bay. The camels grunted, soft sleepy sounds.
Then, above them, a bright light appeared in the heavens.
“Master!” called one. He ran to the tent, leaned inside. “Master! Come quickly!”
A tall man, his robes rich with gold and silver embroidery, his bearded face serene in the growing golden light streaming down from above, stepped outside. He looked up, scanned the heavens through dark eyes.
“Brothers,” he called. “Come quickly. The sign. The sign in the east. We have our star to follow, as it was foretold.”
Two more men came out of the tent, both as richly robed as the first.
The three kings gave orders to their servants to saddle the camels.
This night they would ride towards Bethlehem, following the blazing star above them that marked their way.
End
Rest My Brothers
Cynthia D. Witherspoon
The mission was only supposed to last for a few weeks. We’d done it a million times before. Get to Mars, collect red dirt in small vials, get back to land. Simple, easy, precise. But as it always happens, something went wrong. Not with us, thank God, but back home. The planet we were supposed to be returning to was nothing more than a black hole. What used to be Earth was now nothing.
Nothin’ but blackness and stars. I sighed, tucking the thick gloves that covered my hands beneath my elbows as I stared out into the inky darkness that had fascinated me as a child. Fascinatin’ when I couldn’t reach it. Now it surrounds me. Suffocates me. I had never been claustrophobic before. Hell, I was the first one to jump into the simulation machines that were so tight, I couldn’t move once I was in them. Now that I was surrounded by nothing more than the openness of space, I knew how it felt to be confined. Constrained. Confused.
We had been collecting the soil samples when it happened. Russell Johnston and I had been oblivious to the obliteration of our world as we dug into the dust of Mars. As a matter of fact, we were laughing at one another for having to face the wraths of our wives when we returned home since we didn’t have time to do our Christmas shopping before we left. His laughter was intermingled with the static of my earpiece as we boarded the ship that would take us back home. “Damn, Sullivan. Just stop by the Seven-Eleven and get her one of those singing Redneck Reindeers that the truck drivers get. Abby is from Florida. She’ll love it.”
“She’ll beat me with it.” My own reply sounded distant as I strapped the precious vials into the pouch for the return trip. The landings were always bumpy in the Atlantic, so NASA took special care to make sure that the forty thousand dollar glass used to hold dirt wouldn’t break. We strapped in, set the coordinates for home, and sat back to watch as we approached…nothing. It was as if the Earth had simply disappeared. Meteors that hadn’t been there when we broke into orbit rushed by and the fear set in.
“You don’t think the coordinates are off, do you?” I turned my head towards my shipmate and tried to ignore the fact that his face was as white as mine. Thick fingers jammed at the buttons as he replied. “Damn, Sullivan. I knew your math was bad, but not this bad!” I would have laughed if I could see my planet. The bright blue that was always a little too hazy beneath the blanket of clouds that spread over it. The funny shapes of the continents that made God seem like a child who couldn’t color inside the lines. All the little details that made home the place that I wanted to come back to.
“Set them for the Space Station. If they’re wrong, we’ll know it then.” The laugh that I wanted to let out got caught in my throat and I ended up swallowing it downward instead. Funny how my biggest worry before leaving Mars was the anger of my wife. Now my biggest worry was if I was ever going to see her again.
We realized that our coordinates were correct, and I was still good at math, when we docked at the Space Station. The beacon of light that it gave off was the prettiest thing I’d seen in a long time. It was here that I learned that mankind had sealed its fate when some damned hothead decided to nuke another-and his suspecting victim decided to do the same before they became toast. Each pushed the danger button and poof! Our lives were no more.
There were ten of us total at the Station, but none of us knew how much longer we’d be alive. With no one down below to send us the necessary rations of food and water, we could do nothing but wait for our own destruction. The smart ones envied the people who’d been blown to smithereens with Earth. The stupid ones were just glad to be alive. I was thrilled to be considered one of the smart ones. Didn’t do anything for me now.
“Hey, Sullivan, you comin’?” The soft voice of Ariana Donovich spilled into my ears and I breathed in relief from her intrusion. It’s never good for one to linger on their demise. Especially when that someone is yourself. I turned and smiled to her with a nod. “Yes, I’m coming. What would Christmas be if I weren’t there?”
Her laugh was marred with something that I couldn’t comprehend. A darkness much thicker than the one that I had been staring into. “You Americans. Do you always joke?”
Ariana was a Russian. I’d learned a lot about her in the few days we’d been stuck here. Born to an impoverished family, too smart to be beaten to death by a Vodka-induced husband, she escaped through books and astronomy. She worked her way through school, learned to fly, then became drafted into the space program at the age of twenty-six. She was a pretty one. ‘Course I couldn’t be too picky. There were only two women aboard the Station. Feels like I’m in prison. Checking out the guards that are too tough to break the rules with the likes of me.
The stark lights were blinding as we headed towards the main hall. Someone had tried to make the place festive-drawing a tree on a sheet of computer paper with markers and being kind enough to draw presents underneath. “What’d you get me this year, Ariana?” I smiled as I looked at the drawing. Spacemen are not artists. We draw charts, not pictures. The effect was cute though. Johnston was already there, laughing it up with the Chinese guy who had told us about the big boom back home. When he saw me, he grinned, clapped my shoulder, and wished me a Merry Christmas.
“You get Abigail that Redneck Reindeer, Sullivan?” The only response I knew to give him was a smile and nod. Johnston had taken the death of his loved ones hard. He’d taken the fact that he’d die up here in space a lot harder. Done gone off his rocker. Jumped the fence into crazy town. The bright glow in his eyes confirmed my fears, and I wondered if he would do us the favor of committing murder early before the rations gave out.
“Yeah. She beat me with it.” I responded as his laugh ricocheted off the metal walls. Johnston ignored me then, and I was grateful as Ariana once again saved the day. “Alright, people. Time to gather around. The food’s up, and it’s time to tell stories of our Christmas holiday back home.”
The rush to get to the dinner table surprised me. Those who would have eaten their left leg before inhaling the sealed food provided shoved me aside as they gathered in the plastic seats bolted down to the floor. The plates were set out before us, and as I slid into the last seat, I smiled once more to the hostess that had prepared our feast. Our Christmas feast. Last one. In space. The thought sounded like a bad promo for a science fiction movie, and I laughed aloud despite myself. Perhaps Johnston isn’t the only one off his rocker. I think I’m right there with him.
The Chinese guy started first. His story had nothing to do with Christmas, but about his first trip to the United States. “The lights, the music. It was magical. Like…like your Disneyland!” He grinned as he ate. “I had many, many photographs to take home to my relatives. Our village had seen nothing like it.”
His words broke against the silverware that he had placed in his mouth as they were stifled against the cough that pushed itself up from his throat. I found myself shoving backwards from the table in an attempt to help him, but as the others watched on with a happiness
that I couldn’t share, I sat back down in my chair. The black hair that had been neglected in the months before our arrival fell forward in his face as the coughing continued, forcing him outwards and down to the floor. He reached out once toward Ariana before he ceased to breath.
“What do we do with him now?” The question was clipped by my tone as I stared at the meal that was sitting in front of me. No wonder everyone is so happy to get here. They knew what she was doing.
“We do nothing, American.” Ariana’s tone was soft as she nodded to her Russian counterpart. His death, and the ones that followed, were all mirrors of the first. Story, food, then poison. I thought that it would have been hard to watch Johnston die. Yet as he spoke of Christmas filled with squeals from the children he would never see again, I prayed that his would be a quick release. His death was quick. He simply laid his head down in the mashed potatoes and closed his eyes to his existence.
It wasn’t until Ariana began to speak that I began to understand what she was doing. Her story was one of sadness. Of Christmas not filled with the laughter of a childhood or bright lights that blinded you when they were reflected against the snow. No, her holidays were filled with violence and alcohol until she reached the space program. By then, her memories were so jaded of the holiday that she ignored it. It wasn’t until today that she wanted to do something special. Wanted to give each of us a gift that we didn’t know we wanted.
“And so, I wish only to give you the gift of death, American. And make it as painless as possible. If we live, our rations will only last a few months or so before the infighting starts. Cannibalism. I can’t even imagine it.” Her fork dug into the food below and stirred as I cleared my throat in an attempt to stall. Maybe I’m not one of the smart ones after all. Maybe I’m not ready for this.
“You may go ahead, Ariana. Eat.” I sighed as I slipped the gloves from my hands. “Thank you, for doing them a favor. For doing us the favor of letting those who remained behind die with dignity.”
“Are you certain? We could…I could wait to hear your story.”
My head tossed side to side for only a moment before she took the first bite. I watched in silence as she shoveled the food down her throat until the convulsions began. Her pretty blue eyes clouded against the reddening of her cheeks, and I turned away as her body thumped to the floor. I pushed away from the table then, kneeling down beside each of them to close their eyes. Those less fortunate were cleaned of the foam that fell from their mouths. “Rest in peace, my brothers.” I whispered with each action; allowing the words to become a mantra to increase my strength to join them.
When the work was done, I moved to the windows once more and watched as the blackness welcomed me. Beckoning me like a lover. I chuckled as I pressed my fingertips against the cold glass that separated me from the outside. Beckoning me like the Devil. If there ever was one to begin with. I forced myself away from the view that stretched outside and over to the desk that lined the far wall of the main room. My hands were surprisingly steady as I wrapped them around the paper and pen that lay there. The trembling didn’t begin until the tip met parchment, and the white surface was shattered by ink.
Dear Whomever-
If you should be so lucky as to discover this note, I wish you only a Merry Christmas. Our planet, known as Earth, was destroyed by weapons that we as man could create but not control. Let this serve as a warning to you. Tempers may cease, but destruction lasts forever.
My name is, no, was Robert Sullivan. I served NASA for fifteen years before this date. And I shall serve them in Heaven I think. My shipmate was Russell Johnston. A good man who went crazy by the confinements of our situation. We were unlucky enough to be in space when our planet blew. You’ll find him, and those stuck with us on this Space Station, in the dining room. You’ll find me there as well. I am the last alive. That, in itself, is a terrible feeling.
If you can remember, please do so. The earth was a wonderful place-filled with people both good and evil. Too bad the evil won out this time. Maybe in the next life, the good will pull the right cards and win in the end.
Sincerely,
Robert Sullivan, NASA
The pen ceased on its own and I placed it with the paper. My feet felt like lead as I moved back to the dining room, stepped over the bodies of my comrades, and took my place at the table. Goodbye, Abigail. With God’s help, I’ll see you soon. The thought warmed me as I began to eat, swallowing the Christmas feast as I awaited the release that would take me from the hell I had found myself in.
End
About the authors of Omega and Alpha and Rest, My Brothers
K.G. McAbee has had several books and nearly a hundred short stories published, some of them quite readable. She takes her geekdom seriously, never misses a sci-fi con, loves dogs and iced tea, and believes the words 'Stan Lee' are interchangeable with 'The Almighty.' She writes steampunk, fantasy, science fiction, horror, pulp, westerns and, most recently, comics. She's a member of Horror Writers Association and International Thriller Writers and is an Artist in Residence with the South Carolina Arts Commission. She recently received an honorable mention in the 2013 3rd quarter Writers of the Future. For more information, visit her blog or email her at
[email protected] Cynthia D. Witherspoon is an award winning writer of Southern Gothic, Paranormal Romance, and Urban Fantasy. She has been published in numerous anthologies since 2009. Her work has appeared in several award winning collections including Dark Tales of Ancient Civilizations (2012) and Pellucid Lunacy (2010).
Love steampunk? Who doesn’t? Don’t miss the exciting new steampunk series by award-winning writers
K.G. McAbee & Cynthia D. Witherspoon:
The Gilded Cages Adventures
Exciting tales of romance & derring-do, thievery & witchcraft, amazing weapons & extraordinary airships, frightful apparitions & occult possessions, captures & escapes, death-defying acts & dangerous escapades, all accomplished while clad in the very finest attire.
Dramatis Personae
The Ladies
Lady Abigail Moran – a titled lady, an accomplished thief and pickpocket, a brilliant scholar and the finest airship pilot ever born!
Cynara des Jardin – a beautiful and alluring witch of incredible skills, on the run from the most powerful man in England!
Madame Madelayna Dagmar Eugenie Breemovinski – an enigmatic lady with strange powers and even stranger tastes in hats!
The Gentlemen
Simon Thorne – Lady Abigail’s partner in all things, he can pick a pocket, steal a jeweled crown or repel invaders while never creasing his cuffs!
Sir Jamison Mitchell – a gentleman of some distinction and more wealth, enraptured by the seductive wiles of Mademoiselle des Jardin, he will risk all to protect her from harm!
The Villains
Henri d’Estes – a man of bad morals and even worse intentions, toady and sycophant, his greed is only exceeded by his arrogance!
Sir Eli Hopkins – the Witchfinder General, wealthiest Englishman on the planet, who would give all his wealth for one last moment with his lost love!
The Servant
Rupert Pennyfeather – servant to Lady Abigail as he was to her grandfather, the infamous Sir Agamemnon Moran, he has a vast array of talents, from making the perfect cup of tea to the scientific use of the cosh!
Lady Abigail and the Morose Magician
Lady Abigail Moran and her partner Simon Thorne are, not to put too fine a point upon it, thieves. Well-born, well-mannered, well-dressed, well at home in 1880s London, but thieves all the same. How else can they keep Simon in waistcoats? Their latest caper involves pearls, a squealing beauty, and the most amazing magician of all time. Really. One has but to ask him.
A Rollicking Band of Pirates, We
A steampunk adventure with Lady Abigail Moran, airship captain and accomplished thief, and her companion and partner, Simon Thorne, Esquire. Onboard the good airship Invincible, our dashing heroes are a
ttacked by dastardly pirates. Unbeknownst to the aforementioned pirates, however, the Invincible has been modified by Herr Nicola Tesla himself. Huzzah!
The Good, The Bad and the Didgeridoo
Airship pilot Lady Abigail Moran and her partner in all things, Simon Thorne, master pickpocket, are in the midst of yet another adventure. This time, the good ship Invincible has taken them to Australia: land of opals, kangaroos, didgeridoos…and dinosaurs?
The Devil's Mark
If Henri d’Estes were a true gentleman, he’d be dead by now….Cynara des Jardin wanted Henri d'Estes dead. Preferably, by her own hand. She has tried to kill him once already. But he turns out to be too stubborn to know what’s good for him. Or her. Yet as Cynara’s attempt to ensure his demise fails, she learns an irreversible truth about herself that cannot be denied.
Taking Flight
When the Witchfinders come, its best to be ready to run.Jamison Mitchell wasn't supposed to be in love with the woman he married. It wasn't fashionable. But when he marries Cynara des Jardin, a witch being hunted by WFG, Incorporated, he does just that. When the Witchfinders discover the couple has been hiding out in London, Jamison must defend his new bride or die trying.
Dreams of the Fallen
The bomb is set and time's a-wasting....Cynara des Jardin has sworn to do anything in her power to ensure her daughter never has to fear becoming enslaved by the Witchfinders thanks to the witchblood which flows through her veins. With the help of her husband and colleague Jamison Mitchell, Cynara sneaks into a private slave auction in order to destroy the slavers in their stronghold. Cynara's plans go awry when her lost love Simon Thorne and his beloved Lady Abigail Moran make an appearance at the auction. She must face the hardest decision she has ever had to make. Continue with her campaign to free herself and her daughter, or return to the safety her heart so desires.
The Ties that Bind
Some ties are not meant to be broken….Jamison Mitchell has discovered many things about his wife Cynara in their short time together. But as they set off the bombs meant to destroy WFG's largest fleet of slave ships, will he discover that she may care for him as he does her? Or will the ties binding her to her former love Simon Thorne prove too strong to break?
Revelations
Cynara des Jardin did not marry for love. She married for necessity. She married for the protections being the wife of a Parliament member's son offered. She could not fall in love with her husband. She refused to. No matter how tempting, or charming, he could be.
Downfall
She will make his bloodline suffer…Bridget Sinclair was a Chosen One, a true witch who had done well to escape the fiery fate that awaited her. When the Witchfinders capture her, Matthew Hopkins has finally discovered the one thing he had spent a lifetime searching for.
Possession
A Gilded Cages Preview
I was known in my time as a warrior princess, most worthy of her status as a daughter of Ra. Once, I craved death as only the living could. But once I passed into the Field of Reeds, I begged Osiris to allow me to return. My pleas were answered by a group of priests in black who had dared to violate my tomb. Their insult would not go without consequences. My spirit had returned, at long last, to my Egypt in a body that was strong. Young. Alive. Osiris be praised.
Blinded
Sanctuary of the Damned
The Eternal Flame
Whispered Prayers
The Sibyl
Horror
Queen Elizabeth's Wizard
E.U.C.B.
Mightier Than the Sword
Monarch of the Seas
Double Double Cross
Lord Ghul and the Rat Princes
Double Double Cross
Dark of Night
When the Last Light Fades
Aunt Clytie's Canning Jars
Fantasy
With Murderous Intent
A Dilemma of Dark and Dangerous Dimensions
Currents of Doom
Soul of Diamond, Heart of Glass
Out of Time: An adventure of The Spectre
Cast Away the Works of Darkness
Oblique Vengeance
Not Poppy Nor Mandragora
The Beauty in the Beast
End of the Beginning
The Fearful Fort
The Malmillard Codex
Lost and Found
Steampunk
Professor Challenger and the Creature from the Aether
Riders of the Purple Stage
Science Fiction
Ray Was Right
Me and the Bank
Time Is of the Essence
Souls Touched—Reasonable Rates
Optical Orifice of the Beholder
Captain D'Artagnan Jones and the Felspindyll from Zardogaz
Tales from Omega Station: the Omnibus
Historical
The Case of the Sinister Senator
Luke Zane and the Claim Jumper
Luke Zane and the Bushwhacker
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