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Sanctuary

The micro-scape was a watercolor blur of blue, green, and amber. There was no up or down. Joni closed her eyes, shutting off the dizzying vista and the vertigo that threatened to make her puke. She felt James’ arm pull her close, his right hand held firmly around her waist. She was spent, both physically and emotionally. He was now the only thing anchoring Joni, albeit tenuously, to time and space. Kaya was gone, her sweet soul and living brilliance extinguished in a moment of confusion and violence, and with them, Joni’s will to continue with the mission – with even the most rudimentary tasks of survival.

But survive they must, somehow…and do so without ship or crew, or the most basic shelter. Jas moved them forward, away from the aftermath of the battle, away from that unthinkable disaster that had pitted them against the strange indigenous sentients. The micro thrusters in his suit harnessed the water’s Brownian motion, directed excited molecules of H2O to move them deeper into the strange land of micro space.

Joni opened her eyes. Her pupils adjusted to the gloom. Ahead, in the distance she could see twinkling lights…and they came from inside a familiar shape, far away yet unimaginably huge. It was a bottle.

And then they where no longer alone. Figures appeared out of the micro haze…

First one, then a second, and finally a third of the aquatic seraphim materialized out of the watery gloom directly ahead. Each had wing-like membranes bound to gently waving cilia trailing from their pseudopodia, and down the ventral surface of head, neck, and torso. Joni wasn’t sure which was the greater revelation: that angels were real, or that angels were microorganisms.

Cytoplasm Will be Spilled This Day

Micro-nized humans find themselves in a Microsian war. Illustration by Eric R Russell

“Joni, stop!  Don’t do it!  They don’t understand!  No, Joni… NO!!!”

Before his eyes the disaster unfolded in slow-motion.  Jas Ford was too distant to stop her, too far away to intercept the sweeping arc of Joni’s scimitar.  Time crawled.  Jas watched in horror, unable to look away as Joni Janders pulled the blade along a deadly radius.

At the last instant the Scylex warrior spun to face the enraged human and met her scythe with a look of anger-turned-surprise.  The point easily separated membrane and cytoskeleton.  Ichor-like cytoplasm billowed from the horrible torso-length gash in amber clouds of liberated organelles.  The Microsian’s bisected nucleus spilled its milky trove of genetic code into the cold, dark water.

A microorganism is dead, but using those words didn’t diminish the moment – Jas Ford knew that he and his crew had just done what they had sworn not to do; they had taken a life for a life, and in doing so, brought calamity and horror to paradise.


Author’s note: Microscopic Monsters is now being featured on Best Science Fiction Blogs

The Generals Strategize

A Meeting of Microscopic Minds
Created with Adobe Creative Suite by Eric R Russell
Copyright 2019 Eric R Russell

Helmets came off.  Cilia relaxed.  Pseudopods morphed into arms and legs.  Joni Janders knew the Microsian… knew her well.  The paramecium-ride over from the colony had bonded them.  But the man in front of her, this James Ford… he was a mystery.  Suddenly her osmotic diving suit felt uncomfortably revealing.