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LARC Transmissions - An Anki Legacies Science Fantasy Anthology for Young Adults By S Shane Thomas Characters: 5936

Updated: 2018-01-25 12:02

Delia Martin also became completely engrossed in her studies among the Urboo. A pair of juveniles grew fond of her as well. She had a working vocabulary of around thirty sounds in just under seven days.

"Join us in hunt for food, " an Urboo invited, careful to use only the scant phrases Delia had picked up.

"We join the hunt, " Delia carefully enunciated in reply.

The three Urboo with whom the humans became most familiar led the hunters deep into what seemed to Delia to be carrot like stalagmites and fungal growth.

Dr. Jones quizzed the Urboo relentlessly about the vegetation. The following day the hunters returned to the Urboo encampment with a Vigdaa across Dr. Jones's shoulders, its tentacles flapped in the breeze like a tattered cape.

During the feast that followed Delia slipped off to the shuttle for her rations, while Jones opted to sample the native fare. Though she left for only a moment, Jones had apparently gone native with one of the Urboo.

"I asked about how they make babies, " Dr. Jones confided as Delia helped the man back to the shuttle to rest. His Urboo, and at this point it was his Urboo garbled contentedly from its perch on Jones's back. Cilia had dug into flesh and the being flattened itself across Jones's back, shoulders, neck, and the back of his head.

Delia spoke with the Urboo at length, often wearing a puzzled expression. She gave a weak smile to Dr. Jones and said "This Urboo has accepted your offer to mate into the tribe, a process which will take a couple days and once started is irreversible."

Dr. Jones handled the news much better than Delia thought. He theorized that his feelings of near euphoria came from contact with the Urboo. The Urboos urged her to leave Dr. Jones alone, as the reproductive p

my comrades in the security force on a patrol for straggling machines to dismantle. It had been nearly a month of combat. Casualties remained thankfully low, the harvesters simply carried out their program unless we approached from the front. The colonial starship reminded me of my childhood looking at the moon from Earth's night sky. Then it appeared, the true enemy.

From the ground it looked like a spider with eight long legs arched and then flexed. It blotted out the view of the colony and even light from the star as it landed. The mother machine raced over the moon's surface in search of its eaters and their energy. What little remained from our assault must have been just enough power for its backlash.

The Colonial Security Force converged and assaulted the massive machine. Our attack proved ineffective and largely ignored. The starship dispatched its shuttles for our withdrawal, but time did not allow for escape.

Humanity would never know if it became motivated by revenge or merely its unrelenting desire to feed. The mother pounced from surface into the atmosphere. I swear, I felt the tremors from my shuttle rendezvous point two hundred miles south.

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