Given his lifetime as a master chef of interplanetary travel, Gurfin knew there was always magic in his ingredients. But this time, he did not know, nor did he really care, where they would land after the wormhole eventually opened.
Some recipes required mastery—others he created simply to taste. The stew before him
“I’ve always wanted to chase down a beautiful space princess!” Zaivar Witz remarked hopefully when the reward for the missing Princess Mira came through on the Interstellar Broadcast Bands.
Two days later, the hope solidified as his chances of nabbing the princess improved. He’d learned what he could about her, which wasn’t much:
Zai had a feeling he’d run into trouble tonight—he just didn’t know if it was the good kind or the bad. He pushed open the grime-encrusted doors of Randy’s Interstellar Roadhouse, releasing a wave of smoke, body odor, and honky-tonk music.
With a planetary alignment only days away, the H’don Galaxy was
Zai’s blood pressure skyrocketed at the sight of the woman sauntering into the restaurant, her golden hair wound in a coronet, a faint sneer marring her otherwise perfect face. One look was all he needed to recognize Viola Gill, the galaxy’s most notorious slave trafficker.
He was bussing tables at the Perfect Plate
Lilen? I pause my scroll through warrant listings. Not many bounties out of that solar system.
I expand the posting. Very few relevant details. 500 universal is good pay though, if it’s an easy job. I tap the Contact button.
“Available for holographic chat,” I mutter. “Let’s see what this is all about.”
Zaivar tapped the message icon on the holographic display.
“Hey, Zai,” Sarea’s high voice said in the recording. “I’ve another chase for you. For real this time.”
Zai rolled his eyes and flicked the message away. How many times had he followed a lead only to find out her info was wrong or at
The void stretched before Spark, black flecked with silver, like glitter. The recycled air stuck in his chest as he took it all in—millions upon millions of uncharted stars, floating farther than anyone had ever gone before. Each was a new world to explore,
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My client looked like the world had been wiping the floor with her. She lay back in the containment pod and closed her eyes.
“Ma’am, you have to spin the wheel first,” I told her.
She leaned over to give the roulette a
Before his world flip-flopped, Lachlan Lendur was having a pretty good day.
He delivered a cacophonous shuttle-load of House Azure design assistants and their paraphernalia to the Jade Fashion Expo. He flew toward home in blissful quiet along Azure’s sunny coastline. He watched cat vids. Then the shuttle ruined his morning by rolling belly-up.
Colors flickered along the ad wall beside me as a female voice extolled the benefits of a visit to the Olympus Mons spa. You can’t be talking to me.
“Kytt Windthorn!” The AI must have sensed my disinterest, swapping its sultry tone for a knife-edge. “Don’t you want to go to Mars?”
Doc Sklodowski’s forehead furrowed as he examined me in Martian General Hospital’s clinic. “I’ve never seen anything like this on a scalp—or anywhere outside of a photo. Are those bruises what they look like, Mr. Enza? They can’t be.”
I winced as my head throbbed. “Oh, yes they can. Let me tell you
Joe sat near the edge of the roof, bathed in the cream-colored glow of Jupiter’s broad disc. “Why is it always some damn birds?” They loved building nests in the Slip Time Cooler housings, and he could just see a feather poking out. These dumb old models. Why didn’t they put grates over
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