Lyle bit his lip, heart pounding as he scanned the waters for any sign of police boats or security. This trip was a stupid idea. Why had he even agreed to return? He knew the dangers.
Flustered, he ripped the sunglasses from his face and rubbed his burning eyes. Foolish sentiment had clouded
My father said I’d find my inheritance in the cliffs.
We walked there many chilly evenings before he died. I loved the mighty crash of the ocean against the white rock walls below us. So majestic and haunting.
I always had a feeling this captivating place had something to do with my father’s occupation.
Salt water dripped from sodden hammocks—intermittent patters percussing throughout the dropship against the steady hiss of misters coating the Caribbean Reef Octopus Paratroopers with cool saline. CROP-15 closed his eyes in contentment, swaying as his berth dangled in the metal fuselage. As central brain, he appreciated the effort these land-dwellers had put
Read it now
The stars are alive.
I tip my head back, gazing at the constellations as they spin their stories across the endless blue-black of the night sky. Tonight, Lupus is being hunted by Orion. The spear of the warrior twinkles as he stalks toward his prey. The Ursas are drumming a beat, the low pulse
I’m tossed from the charter plane at two thousand feet, plummeting toward the Earth without a parachute. If gravity proves true, I’ll skewer the Alaskan treetops in seconds.
A week in the remote wilderness had seemed like a good idea. It meant time to clear my head. Campfires and hunting. Reflection and recovery
Never thought I’d die on a fishing boat. Don’t know why. Then again, never thought I’d be finding m’self fishin’ for Merithian sardines, either. Horrid things, make no mistake. An’ if you get ’em riled enough, their frenzied numbers can sink ships faster than wreckin’ on a reef.
I stare over the bow
The sea has its own language. The water breathes with its currents, exhales in swishes and clicks, spews forth moans and grunts. Sometimes the sounds coalesce into something recognizable, but just as quickly, it fades into unrelated background noise.
I listen anyway, wondering if this will be the tenth tongue I master
Tallest bridge in the city, midday, alone. My gizzard grumbles. Should I have eaten? Nah, waste of food.
I approach the suspension tower’s edge and glance down, my talons gripping the rim. If I’m not careful, my wings might flare open and ruin my plans. I unclip my messenger bag and retrieve the rope.
The engine in my mecha whined as its knees strained, taking the last step onto the icy rise. In the grand view of cold white horizons, the Aurora shimmered vivid green overhead. Despite unceasing mortal peril, the endless ice had her consolations.
None of which made it worth it to me.
Pushing off the embankment, I crouch low in the hollow craft, hoping the reeds cover my retreat. I shift the bundle in my arms, all the while my heart thumps in my ears.
I’d built this boat with a single purpose. To escape. Taking something with me wasn’t part of the plan.
“Ready when you are, Cap’n Muldoon.”
My first mate O’Hara squints expectantly through his good eye, the other covered with a black patch. The crew of the Muirgen clusters behind him, waiting for my signal.
Our target, the whaling ship Pawtuxet, flounders on the choppy gray sea, her mast shattered by a well-placed
Ring. Ring. Ri—
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is the West Coast Marine Mammal Rescue. How can I help you?”
“Oh, thank goodness! I found this baby sea turtle caught in some netting on the beach. He got injured. I think he is rather hurt.”
“Thank you for calling us. You did the right thing.
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