Tag: Alien
#17 Mad Cow
This Mad Cow… what? Oh Mad Bull, sorry… wait, what? Oh fine! Mad SPACE Bull, is fighting mad he found out what those “other” aliens have been doing to “Earth Cows” now he’s taken to the night sky hunting those other aliens and so he can turn THEM inside out.
#15 Sealed-Can Coelacanth
Some time ago an alien craft crashed into the Earth’s ocean, injuring a coelacanth. Taking pity on the fish, the aliens brought it inside and froze it so that they might have some later project to work on in their free time while trying to repair their ship. 80 million unsuccessful years later they finally got bored. The coelacanth had its intelligence increased and was bonded to a robotic life-sustaining humanoid suit. It would be sent out from the alien’s underwater base to do whatever in the world above for their entertainment. It just so happens that it decided to become a superhero.
#18 The Medusanoids of Kathulanar
Males of the species have never been sighted, and it has even been surmised that the strange fruit trees they reside near may actually be part of the creatures’ life cycle.
The Medusanoids of Kathulanar © and TM Mike Dubisch
Visit http://www.Dubisch.com and http://www.Facebook.com/MikeDubischArt
2011 Day 18 a Servo from Upper City in my novel “Mentor”
2011 Day 18 a Servo from Upper City in my novel “Mentor”
Servo a small utility hover craft that responds to the voice commands of the person who has activated it. Servos can be made of components and schematics normally available at any replicator outlet if there is also sufficient bio synth available. Components can be swapped out for other components. Servo components can also be modified through modification of the schematics, creating a new schematic. Only tech class citizens have the proper identification protocols to use a Servo, as without the necessary instruction they could be dangerous.
Servo components include laser modules that can be fine tuned by degree to range between high out put for boring holes in metal, to low out put for use as a pointing device, or a safety beacon. In the case of the safety beacon the component can be detatched from the main body of the Servo an placed where needed. It is not advised to do this however until the piece has been keyed down to low level, wide beam laser.
Another potentially dangerous component in a Servo is the sonic burst. If set too high it has the capability to rupture delicate biological parts as well as sensitive electronic equipment. Although it is rarely considered useful a microwave attachment can also be replicated for this device.
Servos can be created with varying classes of artificial Intelligence, Class A being the highest and most autonomous. Class E will follow instructions to the letter and will never make executive decisions in the circumstance where it’s owner has lost the capacity to do so, though this never occurs under the watchful eye of the MAICS.
Servos utilize standard rechargeable power packs, but have the access to othe components to pwer them. These are 1) a small extendable land line with AG 291b power connector, and 2) any number of solar collection devices (see Document LZ429006: Servo Schematics and Components).
Servos can range in size from six inches (used for comm and memory tasks) to thirty-six inches in diameter(for heavy manual labour, such as remodelling walls and hauling components and other equipment. The largest Servos require that the operator be a Tech Class C or higher. Apprentices do not have the appropriate protocols and may not engage the use of the larger (class E or D) servos, for their own safety and the safety of others.
Often, a high level Apprentice Tech will be given a specialised servo upon reaching a high standard of excellence in the profession. This is usually at the descretion of the Master Tech, and is a source of healthy competition among apprentices. The servo as a prize for excellence is a valuable incentive to maintain highest standards of workmanship and safety.
See the list of Servo Schematics and Components available to the various Tech classes in Document LZ429006: Servo Schematics and Components.
2011 Day 17 Bracha of Lower City from my Novel “Mentor”
Bracha
Mentor: A science fantasy adventure, by J S Rowe
Bracha, cook and herbalist for the tribe had been cooking slither since before Tarou’s father was born.
In a small tribe like that of the people of Under City, it helps for everyone to know the rudiments of most of the tasks, and to be able to excel at more than one. Bracha was the head cook and herbalist, but he was also a great hunter, or was so in his prime. He took great pride in his hunting accomplishments, and told and retold storied of his own prowess with great relish, but his greatest pride was in his cooking. He himself had learned at the chopping slab of R’eshka of the one thumb, who had passed to the gods finally only a few years ago. He missed her. She had been a daunting tutor, but because of that he had never yet, as he liked to joke, poisoned anyone and had even made things like Slither meat palatable. And the breads he conjured from the flour of local seeds couldn’t be improved upon.
He always had a gaggle of children helping him out and learning the ways of herbs and their uses in cooking and healing, though a number of them were often just in the way and under foot. But he was used to it, and welcomed all comers. Just make sure those inconsiderate hunters are careful where they drop the carcasses. That was all he asked. This was always said with a smile too. For as much as he loved to teach and to cook he loved to tell funny stories and share a good belly laugh.
#15 – The Gray Gentleman
Working with the Martian was a pain in the ass.
Mostly, because he took offense on being called a Martian. He had explained countless times he did not come from Mars, and neither did the creatures that invaded in 98 for that matter, that he came from a planet thousands of some alien distance measure he and his people used away from Earth, and once again repeated the name of his planet. Trying to even attempt to transcribe what came out of his mouth is an exercise in madness. So when asked what he would like to be called, he would respond he would like to be called by his name, and muttered more illegible gibberish. And that’s how people usually got right back to calling him a Martian.
His biggest issue with being called that, he explained is that it was also the name the common folk used to refer to the Invaders, the other aliens that almost burnt England to the ground. He took great offense in being compared to them in any way. He hated them, more than he hated anything. From his own recollection, he’d been chasing them from halfway across the galaxy until finally managing to catch them here. Many times he admitted both privately and publically, that at that particular junction he didn’t really cared for us. We were many, and we wanted the Invaders dead. That was enough to consider us allies.
And without the Martian’s assistance, England and the World probably wouldn’t have survived the invasion.
Now, Her Majesty’s Secret Service, on the other hand, had a very different name for him. They’ve codenamed him “The Gray Gentlemanâ€. He’d joined just as soon as the century turned, after we were done with all the rebuilding, but only under one condition: He would serve Queen and Country only in matters of extraterrestrial treat and he refused to borrow his services in any matters that pertained to our planet’s science and politics. He also refused to let anyone examine his very peculiar sidearm, which he carried with him at all times for fear of it being stolen.
Many thought Gray, as many finally settled on calling him as the years went on, was just being a prick. England had all of this extraterrestrial technology in their hands, scientists and scholars pouring over it day and night trying to get even a small glimpse of how it all functioned and he refused to lift whatever he had instead of fingers to help us in that effort. That’s because Gray knew better than anyone that no sooner had he explained the British how to use the Invader’s weapons, they would’ve turned their armies against all nations and brought the entire World under their flag. He knew we weren’t ready yet. He knew whatever we could learn from that technology, we would have to earn it on our own. And again, while most people hated him for that attitude, other really respected him.
For the most part, Gray lived a very quiet, boring, English life. He had a small flat only a couple blocks away from Scotland Yard, where he worked in a consulting capacity for the detective department. He did this entirely pro-bono. His Secret Service stipend was more than enough for him to live a very posh lifestyle, but for him it was something to do to pass the time in between alien sightings. And not only did it kept his mind nimble, it also helped him to slowly understand mankind a little better.
He was fond of the tuba, tea and biscuits, reading and, especially, stargazing. He would sit in the roof of his flat, with a gigantic telescope of his own invention and just look into the emptiness of space for hours, a look of nostalgia on his face every time he did. No one ever asked him. It was very clear not only by his attitude but by the way he never tried to leave our planet, regardless of how many spacecrafts descended on British soil, always a convenient excuse right after the flying saucer had departed. Anyone could tell that the Gray Gentleman simply had nowhere or no one to return to.
Gray died on December 20th, 1961, on a private room in St. Mary’s Hospital in London. On his bedside were the director of MI6, the Prime Minister, Her Majesty the Queen and Nina Mumford, her housekeeper and close friend. He had a private funeral where his body was cremated and his ashes spread from the top of the London Bridge.
1934: Gray’s first and last ambassador mission for the Secret Service.
The fact he showed up naked is, in hindsight, the indicator that this was not gonna end right.
2011 Day 16 “Ranor A’tai Denala” of Upper City from my Novel, “Mentor”
Ranor A’tai Denala, the world’s foremost Synthetic DNA Designer
Money was no object to a family whose ancestors made planetfall here, and they agreed in secret to hire the world’s most foremost Synthetic DNA Designer, Ranor A’tai Denala. He was a most difficult man to work with, slightly mad most people said. And what would you expect from a man who got top money for creating designer pets and designer people for the dependent, declining society of the Upper City on the planet T’rest.
2011 Day 15 “a’tannattal” of Upper City from my novel “Mentor”
a’tannattal
a’tannattal is the name on the certificate of ownership. the young lady whom he is destined to serve, calls him “Natti” though such informality is frowned upon. He is of the Non Class known as Synth Droids, his designation being U-AM7 z3t48L 426000. That is the alphanumeric code found on all documents pertaining to a’tannattal right back to the original synthetic DNA design sheets.
At the BioSynth Technologies Corporation he is simply known as U-AM7 z3t48L 426000. The M in a’tannattal’s number tells us that he is a mentor droid. The A that he is A-class, or that is he checks out as near as perfect as one could hope for from what is both an art and a science that tinkers with the basics of life itself. And the U? Well that is really important. The U means that the design of his synthetic DNA is unique. One of a kind. Which of course means that the DNA from that design can not be used for another Synth Droid of any type unless the present U-AM7 z3t48L 426000 has been destroyed. The original Synth DNA is kept locked away at the Bio Synth Technologies Corporation labs.
a’tannattal knows this. He made it his business to know, since, well, it is his business to know. He has the sole responsibility in this household for the tutelage of the daughter of the Governor of the Lakes District of T’rest. And a thirsty for knowledge young lady she is. He knows, but what he thinks about it no one has ever asked him, with the exception of his precocious pupil. And to her he gives no answer. They both know it is improper for her to ask him personal questions. And this meets with a’tannattal’s approval, since there are things that he thinks of which he would rather not speak to the humans.
He was brought to her the very hour she was born. He remembered that day as well as if he’d borne her himself. That day he fell deeply in love with the child. He couldn’t help it. It never occured to him to help it. It was the way his DNA was designed, and that was that. He was bonded to the child for life. Both hers and his. And though she often tried his patience to the limit. He loved her now no less and no more than he loved her when he first held her in his arms, smelled the fresh baby smell of her, imbibing the natural pherimones that were uniquely hers, cementing the bond that been designed into every fibre of his existence.
He had been told how he came into existence. The Lady Renala and her sister’s husband, the child’s father, had wanted to give the child’s mother, Deira, a perfect birthing gift. An older wiser companion who would be all things a growing child would need: A second mother, a protector, a teacher, a playmate, and more.
Money was no object to a family whose ancestors made planetfall here, and they agreed in secret to hire the world’s most foremost Synthetic DNA Designer, Ranor A’tai Denala. He was a most difficult man to work with, slightly mad most people said. Of course they would never say that to a Synth Droid, but rumours got around.
a’tannattal still marvelled that a full grown synthdroid could be grown in a vat in less than a month, while a human child took over nine months to get to a point where growing outside their mother’s womb would commence. Most of his learning had taken place in the holotubes where he was drilled incessantly about social protocols, natural history, social history, planetary and galactic history, basic mathematics and up and up beyond quantum mechanics so that he would have everything on tap that his young protege might require.
And yet… How could one being be all that another could require, designed or not? He knew to his great sorrow he had failed her. Some flaw in his design? Or in hers? Perhaps if her mother had not died when she was still a babe. Perhaps there were no real answers to those kinds of questions. Or perhaps, when he found her… perhaps then he would know.
2011 Day 14 a scut, creature from UnderCity in my novel “Mentor”
A scut
Scut: an arachnoid creature with ten to twelve legs holding suspended a fleshy flattened ovoid cylinder of a body. Bulbous glossy black eyes on short stalks on top of the body draw the attention away from the cutting jaws and sucking mandibles underneath.
The body itself is fairly soft but the legs are hard chitin and can be pulled up and over the soft body to protect its self. Scuts will not attack a moving target. They are scavengers really but they have been know to attack the wounded, basically to feed on them.
They prefer to nest in the higher reaches of Under City laying their trap webs to catch the unwary Flitbirds that also nest up there. In turn the Flitbirds often feast on the flesh and ichor of the scuts. Turn about being fair play in the war to survive.
Often one of the multitudinous scuts will fall off their high nests to the ground very very far below. If they can get their legs into the defensive mode they may even survive the fall.
The scut pictured has been attacked by a predator and has lost some of its limbs, which are now regenerating. Often an injured scut will not survive, especially if it is immobilised, as its brethren will make short work of it.
Nothing goes to waste in the UnderCity.
#15 The Vision Worm
It was perhaps inevitable that the men would call the creatures Succubae.. That the Vision Worm had the effect it did on us just added to their allure.
The Vision Worm © & TM 2011 Mike Dubisch,
Visit www.dubisch.com and facebook.com/mikedubischart
Gibbi of UnderCity from my Novel, “Mentor”
Gibbi
Her full name Gibbil’ananat means ‘left by the gods’, as Gibbi was found as a newborn along with her dead “Lost One” mother. It was a miracle the child was alive, for there are many things in the shadows of the Under City that would relish the taste of such a morsel, and had many times in the history of the people. It was thought that the mother died form wounds received protecting her babe. The miracle child was still strapped to the mother’s breast and able to keep itself alive on it’s mother’s milk for days. The proof of this was the amount the child had defecated by the time she was found. The people often teased her about her origins in the tribe by calling her Nissi, which is short for a’lini’sanis. Which means born from the shit of the gods.
This Gibbi took with humour and equanimity like most things. But it was felt that she was marked somehow, and that the reason for this would show itself someday. And “Nissi” became even more apt when she began to play with muds and ichor from the beasts of UnderCity to make pictures on the stone walls around them. Strange pictures and sometimes portraits of the people. But by then she had been Gibbi for so long that no one insisted she change her name.
After she turned eight she was brought before the Seer, who blessed her arts. And though the Seer said naught, she kept her eye on the girl and learned much from her picture making.
Lathanar, Advisor of Upper City
Lathanar
Even in a supposed utopia there are those who thirst for power and undeserved recognition, though telling them they were undeserving would fall on deaf ears. Those who suffer from the fatal flaw of believing themselves to be the entitled ones in a world of serfs, rarely can be told much of anything resembling the truth.
 Lathanar is secretly covetous of the position currently held by the current governor of the Lakes District of Upper City by right of heredity and appointment of the Council of T’rest, which is the governing body for the planet. At least that is what they have believed for centuries.
Lathanar truly believed he could do a better job than the current governor, and that would probably be so if all there was to governing was devising policy and signing papers and accounting for incomes and expenditures. Lathanar is extremely good at those things, which is why he was appointed chief advisor in the first place. But this stroke of good fortune based on his very real and excessively helpful talents has only served to make him bitter, for why give him the whole pie, but not the filling, too? Being so close to the governorship and yet not being the governor chafed him badly. So badly that he tended to unsconsciously grit his teeth a lot of the time. So much so that he developed the muscles in his jaw into small hard round knots at his jaw line.
He had the austere face of a saint, yet none of a saint’s better qualities. He was good at his job. He knew the rules and he followed them to the letter, made sure everyone knew it, and urged others –to their vast annoyance– to do the same. Nitpicking exactitude has never made one popular. Quite the opposite. But Lathanar believed that people were simply jealous of his high position, and never wondered why they all loved the governor whose position was even higher. They say there are none so blind as those who simply will not see.
“But Your Grace…”, Lathanar leaned forward eager to get his point across, “these papers must be signed today or the council will not be able to ratify the decision until another two weeks have passed. I have it on good authority that…”
“Yes, yes! Good authority,The Governore waved a hand interrupting his advisor. “Still, I have not made up my own mind about it and this case is one that requires cool assessment and a certain levening amount of compassion,” the Governor said.
Er… exuse me, my lord,” squeaked Lathanar, ” Compassion?”
“Lathanar, everyone makes mistakes.” The Governor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, tired and exasperated.
“But my lord… ”
“Oh, not you of course, Lathanar,” the Governor said. “But most mortals have pressures in their lives that they sometimes cannot cope with that will engender the making of bad decisions.”
He turned from the vast window that let him view the courtyard with it’s beautiful fountain and gazed wearily upon his aide, “Those of us upon whom fortune has smiled could do no better than to consider those upon whom fortune has not smiled.” And without seeing the irony in it he smiled briefly at his advisor and noting that his words had simply glanced off the severe man, shook his head sadly.
Tribal Mother/Seer from My Novel “Mentor”
Sorry, unnamed at this time, but is usually referred to as The Mother, or The Seer.
Metaphysical secrets passed down from one Tribal Mother/Seer to another, each generation adding to the store of lore and insight precious to the tribe. Held in great esteem, and with good reason, the Tribe does all it can to protect and nurture its Seer and her protege. Her legs have all but given out on her due to an attack as a child by one of the many savage beasts that hunt the Under City’s shadows.
The current Seer in Under City has not yet chosen a replacement. Some say because no one is worthy. Others that she desires to have Marnal (see 2011 Day 01 Marnal) as her protege, but Marnal pursues other interests. But The Mother is getting old. Very old and the people are concerned that she may leave them without a properly trained Seer. No one knows the will of a Seer of course until she makes it known, and she does have someone in mind. A least expected someone.
#9 Carlyle
carlyle is a myche, and was created as a bit of a throwaway background character on a project i'm doing for sokki. but since he was created today, he gets to be one of the 30.
carlyle is stationed on Contura, where he engages in observational data gathering on conturians and their social structure visa vi casual food consumption. in other words, his job is to hang out in alien resturaunts and watch what goes on.
lately he’s been having horrid luck, and his server just keeps dropping his coffee before it gets to him. he’s a bit fed up with that.
he may or may not also be hatched from the same clutch of eggs as sartre.
Phipp, Tech Apprentice, Upper City from my Novel “Mentor”
~~~
Phipp plays a key role in my novel “Mentor”. His technological skills border on the magical, even for the relatively computer dependent and decadent Upper City Citizens. He just has a way with computers and code, and inherited tools and skills passed down through his family for generations.
And a good thing, too. His family was responsible for the health and repair of the MAICS, the Master Artificial Intelligence Computer System, that controlled not only all services inside the bubble that was Upper City, but also the Grid which connected every one to everyone else.
Things have been going seriously wrong with MAICS lately. Anomolies showing up in the code, replicators not creating perfect copies, changes in communications. It was Phipp’s job as apprentice to see troubleshoot any physical problems with MAICS, but somehow these problems seems to be more than just a melted core, or a board crumbling with age. MAICS was getting old, yes. But… Could someone be trying to sabotage it?
When Phipps begins to investigate, he find much much more than he bargained for.
Day 8 Geisha
Geisha is an assassin who employs creative methods, and part of an alien race the “Shiro Neko”
Day 06 –Sjana of Upper City from my novel “Mentor”
Sjana of Upper City takes a last look back …
before leaping into the unknown.
Sjanatha A’tan Re’ khalanth, only daughter of widower Kinsaar A’tan Re’kalanth, Governor of the Lakes Region of Vindertrest on the Rim planet T’rest.
Always a handful to manage, one always had the feeling the child had been born in the wrong time. Willful and petulant when balked. Inclined to go her own way regardless of the effect on others. Though to her credit, she never meant to cause grief to others. It was her passion for knowledge that caused her to seek ways around the safety protocols, precautions, and barriers. Se sought knowledge born of experience, rather than that readily available on the Grid, or from MAICS’s archives. She did gain knowledge from both those sources, but somehow it was not enough. Somehow she had to get herself physically inside a subject and turn it inside out until she really felt she knew it.
But that was a hard thing to do on T’rest. Especially since the war, after the ships stopped landing here. After the Bubble went up. Sjana’s Aunt, Renala del Re’sjahlak, Sister to Sjana’s mother Deira, had done the best she could to give Sjana the kind of loving guidance that her own sister Deira would have given her. And the two adored each other. But Renala was a fairly conventional woman. Though she had admired her sister’s bravery and forth right nature, she had often harboured thoughts that perhaps her sister’s untimely death had something to do with that nature. Her inability to let a thing go, let it ride…
Sjana took after Deira. Openly standing up for the weak. Loyal, bold and honest and forth right most of the time, but not afraid to go behind one’s back in order to fulfil a perceived obligation. At this age, the tender age of seventeen, what Sjana thought was right and proper, she also thought everyone else should think was right and proper. It just never occurred to her that other people had their own agendas, and was surprised when people were offended or angry with her. She was often full of remorse to find that her actions had negative effects on others, and did what she could to make amends. But she wasn’t sorry that she’d done it. Because, well… she needed to. She was just very sorry that her needs had hurt others. All this coupled with her inexhaustible energy, sooner or later Sjana was bound to make trouble in a big way.
And so it was no surprise when Sjana’s synthdroid mentor, a’tannattal, reported her missing, last “seen” by MAICS over thirty hours ago heading toward the promontory. No Grid activity since then. Somehow, to Renala’s horror, Sjana had finally found a way to have escaped the Grid as she had often threaten to do. That or she was dead. How could a child survive with no Grid to guide her? The Grid was the one topic that Renala and Sjana could never see eye to eye. To Renala the Grid represented safety and freedom. You could never be alone. And that was just the opposite of what it represented to Sjana. To her it was stifling and intrusive. And you could never be alone. You could never experience anything or yourself, first hand. It chafed and she plotted ways and means to escape such benevolent tyranny.
Excerpt from “Mentor”:
She woke a long time later, stiff and sore with her head on her pack and her knees pulled up to her chest. She’d been dreaming about her mother again. Her mother who was smart and brave and beautiful and who loved her, just like Auntie had told her so often. She herself hardly remembered her, but dreaming about her was like a benediction.
She sat up working her neck muscles, moving her head from side to side when a gleam of pale light began dawning, not from above as she had expected, but from somewhere over there to her left; from the wall of the gap she had fallen into. She scrambled to her feet and slung on the pack. She stumbled over the stones and broken bits of marble to the light and found that there was yet another hole, this one big enough to swallow three of her.
She poked her head through the hole and looked around. There were other holes, like large broken windows, across from where she stood. The light was coming from there. They really looked like they might have once been windows. She’d learned about windows years ago when she’d asked why she couldn’t go to the places she saw on the windows, and was told they were only projections on screens that MAICS put there for us. Real windows were holes in the walls with an almost invisible substance fitted into it. to keep the outside outside so to speak. Those holes over there looked like that and that the light which was coming through them at angle was really somewhere outside. Light was coming in from outside. Was there no end to the wonders?
There was a whirring sound above her head. She ducked instinctively as something soft scraped across her hair. there was a blur in front of her then a second later was somewhere else. So fast that she couldn’t focus on it, but it seemed to be a small bird, flying.
“How did you get out of your cage?” She murmured at it. Startled, it flew up out of her sight and she craned her neck to see where it had gone. There were hundreds of them up there, wings vibrating faster than light it seemed. And then she looked down. And gasped. It was a long way down. In fact it was so far down that she couldn’t see the bottom. The area that she could see, the part that held up the marble floor above her, was about forty feet by sixty feet, she estimated. There was a wide ledge, maybe six feet wide just below her hole, and the window holes on the other side, not all of which let in light, went down and down and down until you could no longer see any. What was this place? Did MAICS know about it? Why were there cageless birds here? Could they be wild birds? like they’d sometimes seen on the promontory?
Wonders! And nothing could have stopped her at that moment from climbing out through the hole and dropping the few feet to the ledge.
Day 5: Olethea, a fish out of water
Real name: Olethea
Olethea comes from another world – an entirely aquatic planet. On her world she’s a famous and much-respected hero.
When her planet decided to send envoys to Earth in an effort of good faith and friendship, Olethea was one of the few selected.
However her good deeds hide a dark streak of anger and pride.
On Earth she discovers due to the fact that humans live on land, she is rendered near-useless to help when trouble arrives. Her powers are really only useful underwater.
She’s able to walk on land and breathe air but she’s slow above the water and tires easily with gravity constantly pushing her down.
The Earth heroes joke constantly and at times even make fun of her and Olethea’s pride is not used to taking such blows.
She’s got a mouth full of teeth that would make a shark think twice and she’s about ready to use them to show Earth heroes that her bite is worse than their barks.
#4 Lord Chario
lord chario is a hekshanian. their society is so broken and collapsed, he’s about what amounts to royalty there. some dude with a keg. bow before your new lord, petty serf.
Buy #30! Inhuman Issue #1 – Notebook
Soshika Lypha doesn’t much like Humans. When her commanding officer orders her to help release Grey from a military controlled psychiatric ward, she has no choice but to come face to face with one. Only now, the Rulerist military wants him back…
A dark sci-fi comic about a schizophrenic, an intergalactic struggle, jaded aliens and the meaning of humanity. When Grey is freed from a hospital, no one could have expected the entire force of the Rulerist military to come after him…
#30Characters Chatter…