“I wasn’t always a soldier, Leroy,” Alice growled as she piloted her hundred-foot-tall, gear-powered, British Mark VII Mecha, overlooking the coast of Praia do Guincho, Portugal.
“Oh?” the young French lieutenant remarked through the AM radio system as he sat in the adjacent American-made Ford T1919 Mecha.
“I grew up a proper Victorian girl
The voices in the workroom rise until they carry out into the rest of the house, shattering my unpleasant dream.
“I never wanted it out on the market!” Father says, with more anger than he’s had energy for in a long time. “It’s not stable. Not finished!”
“There was nothing you could do
Alice slipped her helmet over her close-cropped hair and took the shuttle’s controls. When she was younger, she’d tinkered with the helmet, adding a holographic program to alter size perception, virtual reality games, and other novelties, all operated by her wrist comm. If only the helmet possessed a feature that could rescue her from
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I knew I shouldn’t have tried to catch the movi, but all the other kids in the colony had pets. A teleporting space dog seemed perfect! None of the other kids talked about that at teatime. And I now knew why.
Why didn’t I listen to Dad? I gazed in every direction
A low whine drags me from sleep. I push off the cold floor—wait. Why am I on the floor? The forgotten command room—probably used for training—comes into focus, and images flash through my mind. The team getting ready to enter the forest. A glowing purple light encasing—
“Alice?” I jump up
Sebastian adjusted his brass eyepiece and scanned the forest around him for the one thing he couldn’t afford to lose.
A bright glow led him to a large creature rooting around in the undergrowth.
“Any sign of it, Ghost?”
His navigator, Kytt Windthorn, rose from the tangle. “I can’t believe I dropped the astrolabe!”
“Boy!”
I groan and pull my sleeping bag over my head. Something pokes me in the back.
“Boy! Why are you sleeping on my porch?”
The raspy voice and insistent poking finally force me back to reality. I sit up and collide with a fluffy, slobbery lump of dog. A wrinkled face gazes
The air vibrated with a low, ominous hum. Usually, that meant the refrigerator was acting up again, its door rattling just enough to dislodge any unguarded treats—and my cue to position myself for any falling bits of deliciousness. But this hum… This hum was different. It was laced with the subtle snap of
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“Save the world… again?” Miriel stroked the white hair between her faithful St. Bernard’s ears. The hulking brute glanced up at her, rolling his eyes, mouth agape.
Oh, you think you’re too old for this, do you, Matteo? she mindspoke to him.
The cantankerous canine nodded his agreement and lay his chin over his
“Can you get the door, Miriel? Peaches here is a real handful,” Stephanie Brent said to me as she struggled with a little orange tabby. It snarled shrilly and scrabbled at her pink jacket’s collar. Tyler Galaro and his Shetland ponies had already arrived.
We were at Ladbrook Assisted Living—a nice place,
“Deedee Takkenridge, where have you been?” Miriel stood, hands on her hips, as her granddaughter rode up on a dog that was more polar bear than man’s best friend. She couldn’t help but notice Deedee looked like a princess from an animated movie she made Miriel watch the other night.
Deedee shrugged, as if
Just pick one!
“If I pick the wrong one, everyone dies.” Miriel focused on the bomb in front of her. Sweat beaded her temples. She tracked a green wire as it twisted and dove through the tangle of red, yellow, and white wires.
That one. She took a deep breath, then yanked the wire
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