One hundred seventy hours. That’s it between me and flying somewhere beyond Inteltech’s reach.
I tug my sleeve over my tracker cuff, wishing my sentence for “reckless flying” could disappear so easily. No matter how hard I pleaded my case, Inteltech refused to listen.
Grivo, my cyborg overseer, adjusts his position atop a graffiti-covered
Zaivar tapped the message icon on the holographic display.
“Hey, Zai,” Sarea’s high voice said in the recording. “I’ve another chase for you. For real this time.”
Zai rolled his eyes and flicked the message away. How many times had he followed a lead only to find out her info was wrong or at
The void stretched before Spark, black flecked with silver, like glitter. The recycled air stuck in his chest as he took it all in—millions upon millions of uncharted stars, floating farther than anyone had ever gone before. Each was a new world to explore,
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Spark’s reflection multiplied infinitely in the high-tech museum’s mirror maze. Each image wore the same chartreuse blazer and metallic pants he’d chosen specifically to stand out at the exhibition. Now he wished he’d worn something less conspicuous. Being the center of attention
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The harmonic hall doors slammed and Spark hurtled out and over the low balustrade to the pavement, rolling to a stop and barely catching himself from going over the edge into the clouds below the floating city of Sonata. It was a two-mile drop
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Spark Spaulding showed up the way he always did—swaggering, thirsty, and full of stories. “Hey-o, Bernard! The usual, and a cheeseburger, cheers. I’m bloody starving.”
I nodded across the bar.
Several seats away, our preening android waiter perked up at the sight of a human. He hurried over, sculpted shoulders straining against
He came in every day for almost a week, at ten to four in the afternoon, stood in line for a coffee—medium, hazelnut syrup, almond milk—then stayed just long enough to take a sip or two. Gave his name as Sam. Smiled at me each visit.
I melted the first time
I shielded my glasses from the drizzle and speed-walked down the street. Neon lights reflected on the slick concrete. Swirls of pink, green, and blue shuddered as my boots splashed through the puddles. I slipped my hand into my pocket and fingered my wallet.
The wealthy could afford to “misplace” money for a
Aether’s Edge floated demurely across the sky, but inside the dirigible manor’s private study, Kytt Windthorn’s language was anything but ladylike.
“Thomas Edison’s trousers!” Kytt swiped a curl out of her face and pressed her ear to the cold metal door of an Iron Guardian X99. They were finicky under the best circumstances
Colors flickered along the ad wall beside me as a female voice extolled the benefits of a visit to the Olympus Mons spa. You can’t be talking to me.
“Kytt Windthorn!” The AI must have sensed my disinterest, swapping its sultry tone for a knife-edge. “Don’t you want to go to Mars?”
Joe sat near the edge of the roof, bathed in the cream-colored glow of Jupiter’s broad disc. “Why is it always some damn birds?” They loved building nests in the Slip Time Cooler housings, and he could just see a feather poking out. These dumb old models. Why didn’t they put grates over
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Katherine Smyth needed a miracle.
The anti-matter induction chamber was history. Instead of a silvery sphere nestled in the heart of the Fortunato’s engine, a metal flower blossomed, as if opening toward weak sunlight. Her toolkit slipped from numb fingers, thudding onto the deck. Without the chamber, the Fortunato had no engines.
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