The excerpts from Been Blued went over well so I decided to post some from the second novel, Martian Blues. As always, this is copyrighted material that legally belongs to myself as the author. A few of these scenes have a bit of gross out potential. Hope you enjoy.

Martian Blues
second in the Martian Symbiont series
By Phyllis K Twombly

Excerpts from the novel
by author Phyllis K Twombly


Lyle pulled his right hand back. The force it required surprised him. A thick, bony spike from his own wrist emerged from the top of Jerod’s spinal column. It had a thin coating of blood. With a disgusted sneer, he released his left-handed grip on Jerod’s arm.

Jerod fell to the floor. Blood trickled from the slowly closing wound on the back of his neck. Lyle stepped over him.

Another balding man in a white lab coat looked up from the clipboard he was holding. His eyes widened with alarm.

Beside him, a very large man with a dark complexion stopped smiling. He started to pull his hands out of his suit pockets. He looked down at Jerod’s limp form on the floor. “I thought you said his alien DNA had been eradicated,” he whispered to the man in the lab coat.

“It was. I don’t understand this at all. He should be more human than either of us.”


Jerod panted as he spoke. “…I’m reaching middle age, you know, somewhere between sixty and six hundred. Look, these suits aren’t exactly designed for running. You don’t want your new wife’s first impression to be of you all hot and sweaty in wrinkled clothes.”

Lyle stopped. “I don’t sweat. I just breathe deeper. As for clothes, I suspect my family might stop wearing them altogether.”

“Oh, really? Well, don’t be surprised if people stop visiting.”


Tony looked around the foliage surrounding him. He was indeed lost. There were no visible mountains or taller landmarks to help him triangulate. There seemed to be nothing but trees, bushes, and tall grass. He couldn’t even tell which direction he’d come from.

“All right, Dr. Coren. You suggested I get myself hopelessly lost and then try to find my way back. I sure hope this works, because I have no survival training whatsoever.”

He stared at the palm of his hand until he could see the red swirls. “There you are. Okay, now, plot a course out of here for us. Go on, lead me home.” He felt silly. “Uh, fetch?”

Feeling nothing, he sat down on a log. “That didn’t work. Now what am I supposed to do?”

A low rumble behind him caused all his muscles to tense. He slowly turned around. A huge dark brown grizzly bear with incredibly long claws eyed him from a few feet away.


Buddy laughed. “Put your patient first, Doctor. Where non-symbiont medicine is concerned, I still outrank you.”        

Coren gave him a handheld computer. “Then perhaps you’d like to do the honors.”  

Buddy took it in his free hand. He flipped it open and waved it over Fern’s body before looking at the screen. “Pulse and blood pressure are stabilizing. I’m detecting a previously undiagnosed thyroid condition. My symbiont is correcting it now. I wonder why it was never diagnosed before.”

“She was part of the underground.”

“What underground?”

“Some of the humans who never developed the symbiont formed a counter culture. They seem to believe the Martian community and humans with the symbiont have joined forces to discriminate against them.” He chortled. “They call it, ‘the Martian blues.'”

Buddy’s jaw dropped. He frowned. “We haven’t discriminated against them. Have we?”


“Now I assume you would like an all human jury, specifically humans without the symbiont.”

Trey nodded. “Of course.”

“And I assume you’ll want them naked all through the trial, so you can see for yourself  that none of them have the symbiont.”

Trey looked surprised. “You’d actually do that?”

“No, I just wanted to see your reaction. Not all humans are as comfortable with nudity as you seem to be. I’m not going to ask them to disrobe for your personal indulgence.”

Trey turned around, unzipped his pants, and pulled his underwear down. “Indulge this!”

“I don’t get it. What is that supposed to prove? Oh, but you may want to have a doctor look at that mole. It may be precancerous.” Jerod turned around and walked away.


Inside, the mayor stood encased in a column of gel, apparently caught in mid stride, in the middle of a word; his finger stabbed at a single point in the air. Coren ignored him and sat down in front of the computer. He tapped the keyboard. The monitor screen in front of him remained black. He looked for the power cord. It was caught on something. He yanked, hard. The computer tower began to tip. He inhaled sharply as he caught it.

He looked around. The other end of the cord terminated under the form of the mayor, apparently snagged under his foot at the moment of the attack. Coren gently lifted one edge of the column to retrieve the cord. The gel offered no resistance. It was warm and slick under his fingers. He tried not to recoil at the sensation. He lost his grip, causing the column to tip over and splatter on the floor. He gasped with concern.


“So,” a gruff voice began, “this is Martian hospitality, the stuff of legends.”

Coren scribbled notes on a clipboard as he glanced from it to the alien. “Actually, this is human precaution. We Martians have learned a few things from out predecessors.”

“Funny, all I see are Martians. The humans were never smart enough to stop us. Although it seems you’ve stooped to mating with humans. That must have been beneath your dignity.”

Coren shrugged. “What can I say? We always found humans very attractive.”

“You must have. You allowed us to slaughter enough of you to save them.”


Thanks for reading. 🙂

Phyllis K Twombly

About Scifialiens

Author of the Martian Symbiont series: three titles, so far; Been Blued, Martian Blues, Martian Divides. Currently writing screenplays. 'Mating With Humans' can be found on her account. Enjoyed writing from the start. Also a Star Trek and Doctor Who fan. Canadian so far. Paternal grandparents were American. Feels more at home in the States. Loves dogs and most other animals. Loves cats from afar--allergies. Plays flute and saxophone; 'messes with' keyboard and electric guitar. Single so far. Not really looking at the moment. Age: irrelevant. Not to be confused with the fictional comic book character, Phyllis Twombly, who lived for 600 years in the American Midwest.

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