I sit alone on the silent space station that was supposed to make me famous. Now, it’s hardly more than a dead shell. The bright overhead lights have been replaced by the red emergency lights behind me. The sun peers around the cursed planet below. I wonder if there are any eyes staring
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“Ma’am, we have an issue.” My mousy assistant Anne cleared her throat, approaching my leather chair.
I waved my pen at her before I continued counting sums. “Go on, then.”
“It’s…” Anne gulped. “Scrooge.”
I peered over the edge of my pince-nez glasses. “What about Scrooge? He’s sufficiently corrupted.” I tapped his name
WARNING: POWER CAPACITY AT FIFTY PERCENT
With a grunt, Nick swipes away the alarm in his head. But what little peace he’d hoped to gain is smashed with each pound on the shuttle door.
“Give up, Nicky!” a voice jeers from the other side. “The Silverclad just wants a little heart-to-heart!”
Gravity is merciless. My brittle-boned body—courtesy of decades in the Space Force—hurtled toward what could be a disastrous collision with the floor.
But I was wearing a Belt. Once its sensors registered my loss of balance, its anti-grav went into action, halting my descent and raising me gently until I was again upright.
Jagged pumice scraped my palms bloody.
The sword loomed above me. I was nearly within reach. Violet lightning reflected off the four-foot blade. My bearded face stared back at me, distorted by the weapon’s bulging middle.
Almost there.
“Haggai!” Tashmetu’s voice was faint beneath the thunder’s rumble. It mingled with the beasts’ shrieks.
I clung to a thick rope, arms trembling as my breath rasped through my mask. The single torch high on the wall above me sputtered light at the deeper shadows of the night. A guard marched along the top of the wall, and his body briefly blocked the torchlight, but he was soon gone.
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Tacos.
I woke from a delicious dream of seasoned meats and melted cheese. Hazily, I grappled for my phone and tried to focus my still-bleary eyes. Of course I was dreaming of tacos. It’s Taco Tuesday.
Or it should be Taco Tuesday, but for me there would be no carnitas wrapped in soft,
Cassandra gripped the handle on the side of the launch shuttle to keep her hand from trembling. The target ship’s silver and white panels gleamed in the ocean of darkness.
At least I could swim in the ocean. In space, Cassandra would be at the mercy of trajectory, and it was no short distance
It isn’t positively raining, but there is a mist in the air that seeps through one’s clothes. A young boy stands beneath a lamppost, staring across the cobbled street. One trouser knee is patched, and the other needs patching. He shrugs his shoulders and buries his cold hands deeper into his pockets.
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“I don’t want to.” Annie tucked her hands under her arms, backing away from Grandma’s desk, her shoulders hitching up to her ears. “You can’t make me.”
Grandma looked at her with eyes full of sadness. “I know, dear. None of us want to. This is our purpose.”
Annie shook her head
If you were to ask me to list the Top Ways I Might Die Someday, “decapitation in a Safeway parking lot” wouldn’t have been at the top of the list.
What a difference a couple of days makes.
I looked around at the gaggle of survivors huddled in the safety of a shallow drainage
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