Writers of the Future, Volume 29 by L. Ron Hubbard

wrestle Snarky to break the boredom when we finally got a new assignment. We found out we weren’t off of the shit list when we saw the cramped old ship they stuffed us into for the trip.
    The planet for mission twenty-three seemed routine, easy. The number of flora and fauna species was low. I couldn’t tell if they were too scared to let something happen to us or were feeding us a ringer, so we didn’t let that lessen our preparation. By the time we landed, the only question we hadn’t answered was: What is the source of the flashing lights on the planet’s surface?
    We surveyed the planet from orbit. There were oceans, lakes, rivers, green plains, lush valleys—everything some damn fool pioneer colonist could want. We landed in a savanna bordering a forest to get maximum ecological coverage. The landing was uneventful. The vegetation, while unlike Terran standard, was green and didn’t get up and walk around. The animals on the savanna looked large and dumb. They showed no interest in the ship.
    We suited up and went through the standard decontamination in the airlock to protect the native environment. The airlock opened; nothing approached. We crept away from the ship. Outside the area affected by our ship’s engines, we deployed sensors and sampled the environment. The readings came back “Very active.” The biota of this planet was probably deadly to humans. That left two choices for the planners: give up on this planet, or, if there was absolutely no possibility of intelligent life, sterilize it. We needed to get a closer look at the animals.
    I walked toward the trees with Lester covering my tail. A half-dozen creatures moved in the closest tree. Their bodies were ovoid, about a meter long. A pair of legs stuck out from the bottom of the ovoid body with claws that held onto the tree branch. One of the ovoids shuddered and a pair of wings deployed. The creature seemed to inflate them. Then it sprang from the branch into the air. A puff of gas emerged from the end of the creature and ignited. It jetted into the sky.
    ILLUSTRATION BY JOSHUA MEEHAN
    I laughed so hard I nearly fell over. That was why I didn’t see when another flyer hit me at a full power dive. I slammed into the ground. My helmet visor hit a sharp rock. The visor is supposed to be unbreakable, but it cracked.
    The creature grabbed the helmet in its claws. It had one hell of a grip. I could see the crack expanding. Then Lester did exactly what I’d told him to do—he shot it. The compressed gas inside the creature exploded. My faceplate shattered.
    A recording inside my helmet was repeating: “Level 1 breach.” I couldn’t speak.
    Lester hovered over me, singed but intact. “Talk to me, Aidan.” He picked shards of the faceplate out of my cheek. I couldn’t see from my real eye, but the artificial one registered movement rushing toward us. I pulled my gun and fired. The explosion knocked Lester to the ground. He rolled onto his back and scanned the sky. “I’ve got to get you back to the ship. Can you watch for bird things?”
    â€œYeah.” It hurt to talk. Lester grabbed the back of my suit and dragged me across the grassland. The jarring hurt like hell. “Stop! Help me up.”
    He pulled me to my feet. The kid was strong. I put an arm around his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
    When I saw the next bird thing, I shifted my gun to stun. It crumpled and fell from the sky. Lester reset his gun.
    I could taste the blood flowing down my face. The trip back to the ship seemed to take an hour. Lester finally got me into the airlock. As the hatch was closing, several flyers dived for us. One made it into the hatch. Lester stunned it as the airlock closed.
    I reached for the spare suit locker. “I’ll get a helmet on and we’ll decontaminate.”
    Lester stopped me. “We can’t decon. The gas inside that creature will blow up.” The