Hello again, faithful followers of this blog! I’m Timothy Scott Purvis and THIS is another offering of Story Time With Tim! An ongoing series featuring my old works and new material as I continue to write ambitious stories with the hopes of being honestly published some day! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this latest offering!
This one was another contest entry. But, it’s a little more complicated than that. It’s actually the journal of a general that is supposed to be part of a story I have started but haven’t finished yet. I’m calling the whole tale ‘Captain Bastard’. Part of an ‘alien invasion’ that is really just trying to give humanity a helping hand. Things don’t go well though. So, this is really a kind of blueprint for the whole story in general. Which will take place from the perspective of Captain Bastard himself.
Anyhow, it could have been better. And it could have been worse. Either way, thanks for stopping by and hope to read to you again next week! Stay tuned!
From the Journal of General Hyrem Miles
*Excerpts from a discovered journal in one of humanity’s last ‘stands’ against the Hycon hegemony. After the nuclear bombardments, it was rare for any such documentation to found nearly complete. Particularly of this quality. It is a shame the final outcome of the conflict. With less than five million specimens of the human species surviving, their continued existence remains a curiosity on the intergalactic stage.
Timeframe: Late 2112 through mid-2114
AUGUST 14th, 2112. 04:00 hours.
General Hyrem Miles recording. It’s late. Or, rather, I suppose, it’s early. Depending on your perspective. I’m sitting behind this ancient mahogany desk staring out my window towards that great forest behind the base. The barracks are on the back hill overlooking the Cantrice Canyon. The forest is rolling down its banks and through the gulch. A river runs through it all, but hell if I’ve ever been able to see it from here. In fact, there really isn’t a whole lot I can see right now. Just a hundred fathoms of darkened wood flowing outward for dozens of miles in every direction. And here we are, Elchon Reserve Command, sitting smack dead in the middle of it all. The upper echelon’s idea of hidden and keeping the new recruits happy and comfortable.
Hockey pucks. It’s a boring command. They say we need to be on alert for any threat from any quarter. And since we’re along the Atlantic quarter, we’ll have a damn sure sight of anything out of the ordinary. Well, the ocean is too far away to see right now (oh, you can see it during the day. A hazy body of moisture heading out towards the horizon and disappearing over the curve of the Earth), and the only thing visible at this time of night is that great forest. Moonlight streaming off the canopy making it a blue-green sea. Well, I suppose that’s one ocean to enjoy. Otherwise, there’s nothing to do save sit here staring off at the stars blazing vividly high above (no city lights to disturb that view, mind you) and sipping brandy from an elegant glass I have no business owning.
No, sir. Whatever superior is listening to these entries, know this, there is precisely jack to do here besides the same old daily drills and the logging of maintenance requests. Another day of tedium and another night of insomnia. I should really put in a requisition order for some sleep aid. These four o’clock journal entries are tiresome. But, it’s demanded, yes? Absolutely it is, sirs. The ‘every four hour report’. I should be in bed. But, I can’t. Just can’t find the means or the way to—
That’s odd. The sky just lit up like mid-day in the middle of summer. Bright. Brilliant even. The night just turned into day and there… huhn, there’s this ball of light coming down from the sky. Making the ocean as vivid to see as the morning light itself. What the hell is it?
Gonna have to log out. Put the base on high alert. Send out some reconnaissance forces to check it out. It’s a ball of fire. But not a meteoroid or anything like that. Striking the ocean. Whoa. I can see the steam from the surface rising from here. Report back soon.
AUGUST 17th, 2112. 09:24 hours.
The brass are up my ass. It’s been three days and those… things are all over the place. I don’t know what they are. They look like… Jesus. They look like sci-fi robots from some cheesy movie out of the mid-1900’s. I’ve only seen a few. In the archives, you know. But, these things, they’re big. Four times the size of a fully grown man and three times as thick. Hell, I once saw this animated film called the Iron Giant. I also watched War of the Worlds. They look like the love children of those monsters. They came down early morning. Worldwide. Sent the militaries globally into hyperdrive. Unleashed everything in the arsenals yet it hasn’t even fazed the bastards.
Anyhow, the boys at the Pentagon are at Defcon One and the literal crap has hit the fan. We keep hitting them with our artillery but they have this… beam… that disables the computer chips in the missiles. Even our tanks are being disrupted. Hearing talk that a new defense system is being developed. Won’t say what it is, though. Afraid we’ll turn it over to those metallic monstrosities out there. I don’t even know what they want. The brass said there was some sort of communication coming from them. However, it didn’t make any sort of sense. Just garbled machine sounds with the occasional word saying, ‘we come in peace. Put down your weapons.’ Right, because that’s how every invasion is stopped. Put down your weapons and we’ll take real good care of you. They must take us for absolute fools.
An alien invasion. Alien robots at that. Unless they’re Chinese Federation. Then again, we’ve been getting reports that Beijing has been destroyed. So, maybe not. Satellites are no help. Christ, what are we going to do?
I don’t know. There’s a group of six of those things camped out in the woods in the ravine. They haven’t moved on us, for some reason. Even so, we’ve been given orders to raze the forest. Burn it down. Hopefully, that’ll destroy whatever weapons those things are. I’ll report on how it goes.
AUGUST 18TH, 2112. 13:00 hours.
Didn’t go as expected. Four companies came to our assistance. Less than half of one remains. I don’t know how many casualties. Those machines captured or killed the majority. We’ve been forced to lock down the bass. The brass is sending in final measures. They’ve already nuked six cities from what I’ve been told. The other side of the planet is an absolute mess. At least a billion dead so far.
What do they want? Why are they doing this? We’ve heard nothing. No threats. No demands. Just that same bursting sound being broadcast on all channels. It’s clear they will only accept our complete annihilation. There’s nothing else for it, I don’t suppose.
I’m sitting at my desk staring out at where the forest used to stand. Now, it’s some hellblasted landscaped. Destroyed by our inferno rounds. The forest went up in flames. Burned like a roman candle. The fire rising hundreds of feet wide. I don’t see any life in there anymore. No life at all.
It’s utter destruction. Smoke still rises into a red sky. A sky red from the war raging along all of the coast. And yet those bastards are still there. Still standing. They watch our little huddled down command with what I can only assume is contempt.
Good. Because all I have is contempt for them. The brandy is good. It numbs the senses in these times.
JULY 4TH, 2113. 10:32 hours.
Forgive the lateness of this report. I’m a little drunk. What are you going to do about it, sirs? Court martial my ass? Ah, who am I kidding? There probably isn’t anyone left for such an order. I haven’t anything from Washington in weeks and every time I send a platoon out for a sortie, they never return. I can’t say what happens to them. The ravine is now a smokey, foggy place where everyday it’s just sunlight bouncing off of clouds. They go down there and vanish. So, I’ve stopped sending them out. I have maybe two hundred or so soldiers left under my command. What’s happening down there… I don’t want to know. So, I’m being selfish. I’m keeping the remaining forces here to defend what’s left of our command. Are we the last ones? Is there a nation left? What’s happened in the rest of the world?
I can’t answer any of that.
Here’s what I can say: there’s this little one of theirs. Small by comparison to these invaders. Every day, he came here trying to access our oxygen reserves. We’ve had to seal ourselves in, you see. The nuclear war with these beings, what I had heard in the waning months of last year were called Hycon… Haycorn? Hell. Don’t know. Don’t care. I only know this little guy (heh, little. He stands about twice the size of a full-grown man) came by everyday. Out there, milling about the edge of our boundaries trying to penetrate the electric gate and make his way to those tanks. He did it once. But we’ve held him at bay since. Ever since that day…
That day he picked something up. I swear, I’m not sure why Captain Bastard did it (I consider them all bastards. But, for me, he’s the little captain of them all) yet, he picked up this trinket out of the muck of the earth. A small, silvery speck on the security monitors. However, with some finagling, I was able to see it was a small little heart-shaped locket. Why a locket was out there, I can’t say. What was in it, I really couldn’t tell you either. What struck me, though, was he looked up at me. Not at the camera, mind you. But, at me. As if he was gazing into my soul. I’m not sure what he saw in that little thing. Whatever it was, was enough to convince him never to return.
It was those eyes, those electronic orbs of white light, that seemed full of sorrow. And for the life of me I don’t know why I would think that. They came here. They tried to exterminate us. And, as far as I know, they were successful.
Ironic that it’s the Fourth of July. There won’t be any fireworks this year, I don’t think. Unless Captain Bastard returns with his buddies and try to take out our oxygen tanks again.
Maybe we’ll be able to fight them off. But, likely not.
General Hyrem Miles. Out.
JULY 1ST, 2114. 08:00 hours.
I haven’t heard from high command since June of last year. I think this war is over. And we’re all that’s left. I haven’t seen Captain Bastard in just over a year. I sent out a scout to see if maybe there were others who survived. Others who could come to our aid. However, like so many other soldiers, he vanished. There are less than forty of us now. Once more I’m in my office. I’ve tried contacting Washington over the months. Nobody answers my calls. They’re gone now. I’m sure of it. Wiped out. Who would have imagined? And I’m left standing here, drinking my brandy, staring out unto a landscape completely devoid of trees. The animals have long since gone. Now, it looks like one of those canyons on Mars. The river that once flowed is merely a creek of dried mud and tattered stone.
Humanity is… done. Those creatures, those Hycons, or whatever they were… walked away months ago. Ignored us and disappeared. Where to? Who’s to say. I only know they’re gone.
I think I’ll go outside. Take a walk. Yeah, the radiation will kill me before I get to the outer fence. But, then again, why does that matter?
General Miles, Hyrem… out for the last time.
*Note: The Hycon Hegemony defended what humans that they could find. As noted previously, less than five million survived. They fought the Hycons while they were attempting to inform the humans that they were on the verge of extinction. The fear and hostility of this species led them to destroy themselves with their own weaponry while the Hycon attempted to neutralize all forms of artillery. Regrettably, this place, the Elchon Reserve Command, sacrificed themselves rather than let the Hycon scout repair their damaged oxygen reserves. All efforts at communication went ignored by the human authorities. And now we’re left to wonder: what might their kind have become if they weren’t so aggressive? The galaxy is lesser for their loss.
Thanks for reading and hope you had fun! There will be more to come next week! Until then, have a good week!
~Timothy S Purvis
Amazon Kindle Author’s Page–> Timothy S Purvis
Smashwords Author’s Page–> Timothy S Purvis
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