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    A Night Full of Stars
    A Night Full of Stars
    A Night Full of Stars
    Ebook175 pages2 hours

    A Night Full of Stars

    By Julian M. Miles

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    About this ebook

    Bringing you stories of intrigue, action, love, and adventure from near and far.

    Every tomorrow leads to another, and the further they go from today, the stranger they could be. We cannot predict, but, we can imagine. From that simple inspiration, Julian M. Miles has spent the last year creating dozens of vistas of what could be, and in this anthology, he shares them with you.

    From alternate history, through dystopian tomorrows, to the furthest reaches of mankind’s colonisation of space, he uses the flash fiction format, interspersed with short fiction pieces, to provide many tales to enthrall and entertain.

    This is the ninth volume of his annual ‘Visions of the Future’ anthologies.

    It is a companion volume to Gammafall, Six Degrees of Sky, Never a Sky We Know, and to the omnibus collection Three Hundred Tomorrows.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJulian M. Miles
    Release dateDec 23, 2019
    ISBN9780463187982
    A Night Full of Stars
    Author

    Julian M. Miles

    Julian’s first loves were science fantasy and magic; the blending of ancient and futuristic. This led him to a love of speculative fiction, initially as a reader, then as a reader and writer.He started writing at school, extended into writing role-playing game scenarios, and thence into bardic storytelling. In 2011 he published his first books, in 2012 he released more (along with the smallest complete role-playing system in the world).With over 30 books published in digital and physical formats, he has no intention of stopping this writing lark anytime soon, and he'd be delighted if you'd care to join him for a book or two.

    Read more from Julian M. Miles

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      Book preview

      A Night Full of Stars - Julian M. Miles

      A Night Full of Stars

      Visions of the Future, Volume 9

      A science fantasy anthology by Julian M. Miles

      Copyright 2019 Julian M. Miles

      Smashwords Edition

      ***

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      *****

      Contents

      Visionaries

      Never the Shroud for a Good Man

      Seventeen Moons ‘til Doomsday

      Black Rainbow

      She’s Gonna Cut Us Down

      The Spires of Thenix

      Get Out of Guildford

      Arterial Drive

      He Wore Sorrow; She, the Crown

      Hanging Verdict

      It’s Not Like They’ll Miss It

      Thud, Bang

      The Eyes That Never Sleep

      Looking Forward

      The Low View

      Like Mist in the Sun

      My Sweet Death

      Answers

      Judgement Today

      Appeal

      Archetype

      Fooled

      Be

      Vitae

      Shepherd

      Diamonds and Thunder

      Members Only

      Riders on the Storm

      Continuity Failure

      High Life

      One Minute

      Mary Had a Little Plan

      Patched

      Deep in the Archives

      Flawless Stars and Dead Jewels

      Honest Men

      Look Like Them

      Flicker

      Dark Chambers of My Heart

      Ratings

      No Need to Conceal

      Planets

      Bruises and Nectar

      Ghostless Machines

      Peternal

      The Fall of Sturmcala

      Family Business

      Wyld By Nature

      Empire

      Ever Near

      Star Eagle

      Child’s Play

      Shower Time

      Paper Moon

      About the Author

      Connect with Julian Miles

      Other Books by Julian Miles

      Credits

      *****

      Visionaries

      The guide says it starts small: things move when you’re not about. Takes a while to be sure, if it stays low-level. Walking into your lounge to find one of your books floating in the middle of the room while something unseen turns the pages? Conclusive. My turn to make that call.

      Visionaries. What’s the nature of the incursion?

      Got a book in mid-air.

      Are the pages moving like it’s being read?

      Yes.

      Sir, you have a Class Six incursion. Please vacate the premises and await an operator.

      I don’t have to be told twice. Class Six? The highest I’ve heard about on the news is four.

      It’s cold outside. Suzanne from number sixteen brings me a tea.

      Incursion?

      I nod. She clucks sympathetically and returns quickly to her home. I see the sparks of a repulsion field as she opens her front door. Must be nice, being able to afford one of those.

      A ship swoops down, pauses, then darts off. Someone lands on my lawn. Her bodysuit is blue-black, the helm colossal - at least three times the size of a crash helmet, with a ‘tail’ that hangs down to the small of her back. The narrow sightband across front and sides of the helm flashes green as she checks her bulky gauntlets.

      The helm centres on me and the band goes from green to blue. The voice that emerges is cheerful.

      Paul Torvil?

      I nod.

      Who died?

      The lump in my throat won’t let words past. Tears fill my eyes.

      Wife?

      I nod again.

      She’ll need you, Paul. Follow me.

      I don’t want to, but it’s like I’m being towed behind her on an invisible tether.

      "Listen carefully. When someone dies, they emit an energy form. Some call it the soul. Science is undecided. Sometimes that energy doesn’t dissipate. It remains anchored to a person or place, maintained by the person’s energy, or by what little energy it can syphon from nearby organics. Without a constant charge, the form fades.

      When a Lashniric Hunter makes the transition into our reality, it bonds with the nearest anchored form and starts to subvert it, to change it into a Shifter. If it achieves that, it can take control of organic forms. It has to start small, but can go from mouse to man in under a week. After that, it can spread from host to host by touch, overwhelming the resident sentiences. We came closer to losing China and America than most people realise."

      She turns and puts a hand on my shoulder: The reason I’m telling you is because this will be difficult and I cannot have you waver. What was her name?

      Jeanette. One word, with my world attached.

      As we enter the house, I feel her suit do something. My body hair vibrates. Entering the lounge, I see a different book is being read.

      She raises her gauntlets and ruby light fills the room.

      Jeanette. Come out. Paul needs you.

      The crimson cloud behind the book twists and shakes, my dead wife’s face contorting with effort as head and shoulders rise into view. Oh, my heart.

      A whisper: Say her name.

      I step forward, raising my hand: Jeanette.

      Smoky eyelids fade and I’m staring into the eyes I’ve missed so much. The mouth moves, but no sound comes out.

      Another whisper: Say goodbye. Nothing about love. Just goodbye.

      I want her back.

      She can’t come back. She’ll be consumed. Your words and my tech can save her. Say goodbye.

      My sight is flooded with tears. In that watery view, the cloud behind her seems to have eyes. Hungry eyes. A greed that nothing can assuage.

      Goodbye, Jeanette.

      The gauntlets send lightning into the cloud. I see Jeanette’s mouth open in a scream. I reach to console her, then pause. Jeanette is rising from the cloud. Her head disappears. Slowly, she moves from cloud to pass through whatever it is. Finally, she’s gone. The cloud vanishes in a blinding flash, leaving the faintest smell of sulphur.

      The Visionary places a hand on my shoulder: She’s moved on. So should you.

      I wipe away the tears and stare at her. I see tiredness in her stance. I know she’s right.

      You see a lot from in there, don’t you?

      There’s a little nod. She sounds exhausted: Too much, too often. Goodbye, Mister Torvil.

      She goes.

      I’m left holding a half-cup of cold tea, staring at a singed book lying on the carpet.

      ***

      Never the Shroud for a Good Man

      It’s easy to spot strangers round here. They’re the ones who call the grass-banked sewer on my right a canal.

      And in those days of tribulation, the faithful called unto Old Peace, but his thing was endurance without fighting, so he answered not. When the Ruiner of Empires unleashed the twin demons Druntha and Thasha, the people rebelled, invoking Marilyn of the Twin Desires in the name of the Virgin Queen and the Unseen King.

      I listen to the preacher, reluctantly impressed by his hybridisation of twentieth and twenty-first century politics with pop culture to form a gutter religion that has a host of gods but only one commandment: spend as much time as possible out of your mind, on whatever drugs you can find, because the world has gone to shit.

      Even with my possibly loftier view, I have days when I wholeheartedly agree. Today isn’t one of them.

      Shields. You owe.

      I feel the business end of something big enough to kill a lorry touch the back of my head.

      You’re too close.

      The cold muzzle slides a little as he looks up and over the sights in surprise.

      Wot?

      Spinning on my back heel, I turn until my cheek touches his fingertips where they cradle the forward grip of the gun. His eyes widen as I punch a screwdriver between the plates of his armoured vest and into his heart. The smell of singed blood fills the air as his cheap replacement heart shorts out through the conductive lacing inside his ribs.

      Pulling my screwdriver out, I keep hold of the shiny gun as he drops. Looking it over, I give a low whistle.

      Wherever did you get a blunderbuss like this, Danor?

      From me, chukka.

      I spoke too soon about today not going to shit. That voice belongs to Lenki - the man I’ve come to kill. I turn slowly, leading with the hand holding the gun, while the other hand turns the screwdriver to lie along my forearm.

      Put the gun down.

      I place it down carefully, leaving it with the business end pointing to one side of Lenki.

      With a smile, I extend my hand as I step to the other side.

      He shuffles the other way and shakes his head.

      Not falling for that. You did me with that trick once before. Drop the pointed tool, whatever it is.

      I smile: Can’t fault a man for trying.

      The screwdriver drops. I see Lenki’s eyes widen as he works out what’s happening a fraction too late. The tool lands in the trigger loop as my foot braces the stock. Lenki gets his pistol partway up before the gun does what had been intended for my head to his legs. Seeing the result, I’m happy that didn’t happen.

      Lenki gibbers as his explosively truncated legs and shock-numbed grip fail to keep him from sliding into the sewer-canal. He screams and gurgles until he drowns or the things that used to be rats chew through something vital.

      I take a deep, satisfied breath, then gag. You don’t do deep breathing through your nose down here. I’m getting out of the habit, which probably means I’m getting somewhere. I retrieve the gun, then wipe it and the screwdriver before tucking both away.

      Turning to stare at the preacher, I give him a knowing smile: Whisky from a dead man?

      The preacher proffers a bottle of Glenfiddich; Danor always liked being flashy when organising the locals to provide diversions.

      That’ll do nicely.

      I kick Danor’s body down the bank, then open the bottle. I raise a silent toast before drinking. Sewage: never a shroud for good men.

      ***

      Seventeen Moons ‘til Doomsday

      The young man is wearing a vantablack bodysuit that leaves only his face discernible. Matching cloak, gloves and boots are stacked next to the log he sits on. A sensor-laden facemask lies in his hand as he starts speaking.

      You wanted this. So, no interruptions.

      The video drone settles into a hover. A voice emerges from it: Whenever you’re ready, Captain Leon. Just tell us when you’re done.

      He

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