“I figured it out!” Eymir pushed through the flaps of my tent, out of breath.
I looked up, frowning at the light blue glow of his bodysuit. Running used a lot of power. Without a properly charged suit, the student from Kiyr could lose the ability to walk in our higher gravity.
“You figured what out?” I asked.
Humans are frightfully underwhelming creatures. It’s a wonder they managed to evolve at all.
Yet the nature of this planet warrants investigation. And since the one human who might have been useful was found murdered this morning, fraternizing with the wildlife is an unfortunate consequence.
Like now, for example. The way the human brandishes
“Homeward bound,” I announce, opening the door of my time machine. The chromium steering lever on the control panel gleams invitingly.
“Blitzkrieg!” Cuthbert the parrot flaps onto my shoulder.
“You can stop shrieking that ridiculous code word now,” I grumble. “The mission is over.”
And what a mission it was. I’m not one
Jupiter’s ferocious lightning crystalized into a hail of carbon and gas raining down on the spaceship that hovered as close to the thick atmosphere as it could manage. Sweat pooled around Alma’s goggles and dripped onto her console as the ship shuddered, nearly buckling under the Jovian pressure. Nothing would make this planet habitable
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Guy Cosmo swiped away sweat as he stuffed stacks of crisp green cash into his briefcase. He pulled more from the safe and tried to neatly line up the bills, but his pudgy hands were shaking. Guy could practically hear his father’s voice calling him an idiot, regretting that he had given Gu
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I stumbled, snotty and blurry-eyed, from the smoking building. I didn’t look heroic, but I had rescued the missing child. That’s what mattered. Especially since wailing firetrucks were only beginning to pierce the surrounding commotion.
Blinking back tears, I cradled the grime-covered toddler in my arms. Her small body convulsed in a coughing fit.
Typos are proof of humanity.
The Typo Alliance slogan fills my mind as I park and slip a file from my purse. I tap my glasses twice, activating the scanner to illuminate data.
TYPO: NEW ECLECTIC GRID POWERS LOCAL WAREHOUSE
ASSIGNED: AGENT BRODY HIGGINS
CONCLUSION: NO FOLLOW-UP REQUIRED
I snap the file shut. Brody might
“If it bugs you so much,” I said, “why you don’t just levitate my stuff back to its proper place?”
“Because,” Steven shouted, “I actually use my powers for good. I don’t levitate things to clean up your messes, you—”
Expletive deleted.
Yeah, I often provoke that sort of reaction from my
I’ve just finished mopping the floor of the Decimator’s control room when two Second Class Henchmen walk in. The big goons leave muddy footprints all over the—formerly—shiny floor. I glare after them, but they don’t even notice me.
Typical.
No one notices me unless they slip on a wet floor, or—
“Are you still working on that thing?” Mauldin shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth and eyed the hunk of metal parts his brother was attempting to jimmy rig together.
“Yep.” Pablo paused and tilted his head. Pursuing his lips, he bent his head the other way. After a moment, his face
I’m going to enjoy shooting Hernandez.
I smile grimly as I run my feather duster along the balcony rail. My titanium blaster is a satisfying weight in my apron pocket. Too bad it’s set to “stun,” not “kill,” but I suppose one can’t have everything.
Twenty feet below me, the brightly-lit ballroom
Ronnie wedged his armored fingertips under the heavy stone concealing the control box. He yanked and the slab cracked apart, the noise thunderous in the tomb-like corridor.
“Oops.”
Not that he felt bad about breaking anything in Emperor Thallia’s creepy castle, but the louder he was, the better chance the mechanical samurai patrolling
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