My photograph hung on the bar’s wall.
“WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE”
“$100,000”
Well, at least it didn’t only say dead. And a reasonable amount of money, too. What had I done this time?
Maybe it was the general stores I’d robbed or the people I’d blackmailed for information. With a shrug, I glanced again
“I’ve always wanted to chase down a beautiful space princess!” Zaivar Witz remarked hopefully when the reward for the missing Princess Mira came through on the Interstellar Broadcast Bands.
Two days later, the hope solidified as his chances of nabbing the princess improved. He’d learned what he could about her, which wasn’t much:
“Er’Rets,” I repeat for the third time.
The woman next to me, clearly imitating an over-the-top princess in her bejeweled blue and white dress, runs her fingers over the plaited strand draped over one shoulder. “It’s pronounced ‘Air-ruhn-dale’.”
“I’m not a simpleton. I know the kingdom from which I hail.” My father’s the head
Lilen? I pause my scroll through warrant listings. Not many bounties out of that solar system.
I expand the posting. Very few relevant details. 500 universal is good pay though, if it’s an easy job. I tap the Contact button.
“Available for holographic chat,” I mutter. “Let’s see what this is all about.”
I plummeted to the shadow-covered ground, quickly tucking into a roll. Then I leapt to my feet and dusted off my brick-red cloak. Gross, this better not be another prison cell.
Before I could explore any further, a huge hand grasped my hood and lifted
I pressed one finger to my lips and an ear to the office door. The lackey guide raised an eyebrow. Strained voices drifted from the room beyond.
Heroics always required genius, nerve, and timing.
“But we need the manpower to fight!” argued a female voice.
At best, my Mark 12 Temporal Teleporter had maybe one last jump in it. Any means of controlling my destination’s location or time was lost long ago. But my space shuttle’s equally wonky steering was currently spiraling me into a gas giant
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Spark ran through the brush, desperately trying to escape the T-Rex crashing through the jungle behind him. At last, he broke into a clearing. The amulet that the old gypsy had given him provided the only control he had over the curse
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“Look! It’s Spark Spaulding!”
Lachlan looked instead at his little sister, since one of his life goals was to avoid a repeat of last year’s “look, a flying corgi” humiliation. Angelica’s face beamed “ga-ga fangirl,” so he scanned Marine’s crowded open-air market.
My client looked like the world had been wiping the floor with her. She lay back in the containment pod and closed her eyes.
“Ma’am, you have to spin the wheel first,” I told her.
She leaned over to give the roulette a
Sixteen floors up the sheer glass face of Pitfall Industries’ main tower, I cling to Sticky Kitten’s back as she climbs. Suction fluid seeps through the sapphire Spandex of her skin-tight super suit, adhering me to her and her forearms and shins to the building. My purple cape snaps in the wind against
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Before his world flip-flopped, Lachlan Lendur was having a pretty good day.
He delivered a cacophonous shuttle-load of House Azure design assistants and their paraphernalia to the Jade Fashion Expo. He flew toward home in blissful quiet along Azure’s sunny coastline. He watched cat vids. Then the shuttle ruined his morning by rolling belly-up.
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