A Garangian paladin is intimidating. His armor has spikes and hooks and even gives off an eerie phosphorescent glow in the dark. The emperor wouldn’t have it any other way. He knew any conquered alien who might dare to fight his paladins would take one look at a Garangian’s helmet
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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
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.
“Again.”
The voice that reached Pulsar along the communications thread was neither impressed nor impatient.
Pulsar pivoted away from the smoldering target at the edge of the training field to face the figure near the far-off arsenal. “But Master U’drec—I executed the maneuver perfectly! Why—”
“Return to start position, Squire.”
The sauropod swung her head on its immensely long neck from side to side, careful to keep her young in sight. Two of her hatchlings were feeding on new leaves and tender shoots, but the youngest was forging his way through the bushes surrounding their family. She took a step toward him
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Ya open the spaceship’s door and stare at yer landin’ spot. This deserted planet seems made for cows. Lotsa grass, stretchy bright sky. Some spindly trees for shade. No fences in sight. Yer herd will love it. Or oughta, anyway. Ya never know with them testy space cows. One thing wrong, and yer world
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There is nothing more tedious than a Chalean war party. Their banter is unintelligent, their manners are lackluster, and don’t even get me started on the leftover jerky I’ve been forced to eat for nine days in a row now.
Maybe—maybe—if they had let me ride on a horse that didn’t sneeze
“You are aware there will be side effects.”
I nodded but didn’t meet the study coordinator’s eye. I kept my gaze locked on my hands: the warped fingers, fused thumbs, and lines of surgical scars.
Lupus has side effects, too.
“You understand we cannot tell you exactly what those side effects will be.
It was a particularly slow Saturday at March Funeral Home.
Orla had let her eyes drift away from her work to watch the snow falling in thick flakes outside the window. Located on a reclaimed cemetery, the mid-tier establishment had a generous forest plot that allowed for outdoor services—and a picturesque office view.
Andromeda twisted her frizzy hair into a tight bun as her ship, the Ray, whirred beneath her, clicking and buzzing.
“I know.” Andromeda laughed at her ship, her best friend in the whole galaxy. It had taken three years for her to code him with a sentient personality that fit him. “That Nyxellan
“You want me to make you a unicorn.” I tugged at my tie, which was suddenly feeling much too tight.
“Wrong, twice over, Dr. Delany,” said the Premier. “Didn’t you read my message? Earth’s Council doesn’t want a unicorn, the Craldirish do. And they don’t want one; they want a breeding pair
The knock at her workshop door startled the vaether out of Eulalia Clune. She flailed, her arms nearly sending the nebulum condensers on her crafting table crashing into the plasma generator.
If she had her way, whoever invented knocking would be vaporized in the galaxy’s largest imperial starsteam engine and served with starberry tea
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