"Science Fiction" means—to us—everything found in the science fiction section of a bookstore, or at a science fiction convention, or amongst the winners of the Hugo awards given by the World Science Fiction Society. This includes the genres of science fiction (or sci-fi), fantasy, slipstream, alternative history, and even stories with lighter speculative elements. We hope you enjoy the broad range that SF has to offer.
Will Shadbolt works in scientific publishing in the greater New York City area. His short fiction has previously appeared in Daily Science Fiction and Nanoism.
When our ship crash landed on the strange planet, the natives immediately captured us. The Earthlings, as they called themselves, took apart our rocket, our only way home, without a second thought, scouring the technology for clues to advance themselves. "It's like a honeycomb," we heard one say.
We were stunned and injured in the crash. Before we recovered, they stole us away. Some of us they froze; the others they experimented on. With our antennae, even in a deep sleep, even locked away in ice, we could hear our comrades shriek internally as the Earthlings cut at their bodies and removed the blood, the organs, the brains.
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"Incredible," we heard the Earth scientists say, "these aliens seem so biologically simple, almost like they should have the intelligence of an insect. How did they create machinery this advanced?"
We've listened and learned and they are right. In some ways, we are like insects. We are like caterpillars. We require a deep sleep to enter our adult forms. And when we awaken, when this ice can no longer hold us back, we shall remember how they took apart our comrades and our only way home as we take them apart.
The End
This story was first published on Wednesday, November 27th, 2019
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