Dear Marybeth,
It was supposed to be a simple experiment.
Well, nothing is simple about trapping dark matter. Still, the theory is sound, the experiments are straightforward, and the daily routines are predictable. And since we’re so far from civilization, we had to schedule everything out, just like they do for missions on the ISS.
Tiger slouched in his seat. Outside the crowd hummed before the white marquee set up for the Talent Quest. I shouldn’t be here. He resettled his cap backwards and glanced along the table at his four teammates. Each of them, and the others not here today, had an invisible guardian and special abilities according to their gifts.
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There’s a showdown between Detective Billings and Coyote. Wanna bet who wins?
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Top Stories for May The stories that received the most lightning bolts for April were Techno Tuesday’s Sins of Fire and Metal by Emileigh Latham and Wacky Wednesday’s At Your Service by Christine Smith. Topping off our other genres, we have Thriller Thursday’s The Tomb of the Ophidian Scepter by Michael Dolan, Fantasy Friday’s Victor by E.A.
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Michelle sighed as she strolled down the hall for her meeting with her boss, Enoch. Transferring had become too easy. Humanity had lost its will to fight, making her job a cakewalk.
Arriving at Enoch’s office, she was surprised to see the supervisor from the Persistence department…
Barely enough remained of the starship to make it valuable. It had been so badly damaged that Abby couldn’t tell what it was. It might have been anything from a cargo vessel to a battle cruiser. Now, it was past whatever purpose it had been meant for.
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Harold’s parents were allergic to most pets, but sometimes he brought animals home just to be sure. He made valiant efforts with kittens and puppies, and he tried a Gila monster on them that didn’t go over well.
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Not again. Gerald could not do this one more time.
He rubbed his eyes. Michael’s words glowed at him in angry orange from the vidscreen:
REPORT INADEQUATE. RANKS MUST NOT BE ABBREVIATED. REFERENCE TIMECORPS REG. 927.3. RESUBMIT.
Gerald pushed back from the console and floated across the capsule until he bounced lightly against the opposite wall.
Two multiple-homicides in a 3-block radius, and I got the one with no survivors.
Dark backroom. Dead bodies still seated around a game of poker.
Each man was a high-ranking member of the Martinez Gang. Even if I didn’t know them from run-ins or rap sheets, the distinctive neck tattoos advertised it.
Blackish fluid drained from beneath my mangled Camaro. Darkness had long overtaken the desert skyline, but heat from the sticky blacktop still hung in the air. Sharp pain stabbed my side with each breath, and I tried to ignore the pulsing behind my right eye as I staggered toward a flame in the distance.
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I peer through the scope of my crossbow. From my vantage point in the rafters, I’m as good as invisible to the royal family below. As if being a male peasant doesn’t make me invisible enough already. But all that is about to change.
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