I arch my back and gasp awake.
I lie in a circle of grass. Blades flutter in a gentle breeze. Despite the wasteland of ice and snow that swirls outside the circle, the wind reaches me as a warm summer breeze.
My ruined mech lays at my feet, inches past the green.
I settled into the cockpit, pulling my bomber jacket tighter. In spite of briskly efficient warming plates, the megabot’s interior always retained some of that perpetual Antarctic chill. The mech was 70 feet of gleaming steel, pure robotic poetry in motion. Sturdy legs held up a hefty, armored pod, and four arms boasted
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At forty feet tall, the Megabot was smaller than most, but I knew it could get the job done. I piloted my mech down through shadows deeper into the heart of the massive cavern. Even seconds after leaving the surface, I felt far removed from the bright yellow light of the sun.
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What’s a spy’s greatest enemy? Ask any red-blubbered agent in Her Majesty’s Sea Critter Service and they’ll give you the same answer.
Stairs.
I sighed and looked down my glasses at the long flight of marble steps awaiting me. Bubbly Christmas music played in the background. The ballroom was alive with sea creatures mingling.
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tore through the woods, paws churning up soft dirt. The smell of mud and recent rainfall filled my snout as I raced through the bracken, desperate to reach the castle. Her scent was fading quickly. Soon even my powerful senses would be useless.
But I had to keep moving. Please let me be on time.
“Are you sure about this?” My stomach turned as I played with the sleeves of my sweater, worrying a few loose threads between my fingertips.
Eastwood paced across the cramped room where we’d been locked away. “We’re in a bit of a pickle here, Rose. I don’t see any other way.
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I revved my motor and slipped out of park, checking the glowing digits of the clock on my nightstand. 2:59 a.m. I’d woken just in time. It’s tough to be a crime-solving teenage car. Sometimes you have to sacrifice a little sleep.
But I had a mystery to solve.
I think maybe you’ve had enough, Sergeant Maxwell.” My partner’s eyebrow quirked as I slung back my second shot.
“You’ll wish you’d had two soon enough, rook.” The bitter aftertaste of a good espresso was always the best part of my day. In a world where coffee grants superpowers, it’s important to stay caffeinated.
“Glad you’re here, Miss Morgan.” Detective Eastwood handed me a coffee.
“Thanks. And I really do prefer Rose.” He grinned as I accepted the warm paper cup, telling me he’d ignore the request.
I took a sip and stepped into the victim’s living room. I grimaced at the coffee’s sour taste,
I stumbled out of the beam of light, doing my best to keep my balance on the icy sidewalk.
The house seemed smaller than I’d been expecting. All the houses were smaller than I’d expected.
“Where am I?” I asked Mission Control.
“Human village.” Cheryl smacked her gum in my earpiece.
Any minute. I knew he would show up. I stood at the forest’s edge, sweating in the humid, late afternoon air. Even at the end of the day, the summer heat sweltered.
A shadow moved among the trees. Finally! My proof.
I raised my disposable camera and took a photo. Oh, crud.
Back in June 2019, we listed nine authors who had published with us three or more times throughout the first season after Havok’s rebirth. I thought it was time to update that Most Prolific Authors post. This Weekend Scoreboard is brought to you by Our Most Prolific Authors! Let’s hear from them what motivates their writing and
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