“Status!”
“Countermeasures depleted,” the ship said. “Shields holding…for now.”
The ship hurtled toward the hourglass-shaped nebula. The ship and the two crew members aboard all knew what that meant. Already, it was getting icy in the cabin.
A missile sliced past their port side. The ship veered just as the missile burst apart.
Read More A Moth In The NebulaNot in the beginning, but early in the history of the world, many mortals suspected that the ones who called themselves gods were shirking their duty of properly governing the world. Some responded by entreating the gods. Others by railing against them.
But a few decided to try answering the question of what it was that the gods spent their time doing if they were not doing what was expected.
It was known that the gods lived far above the earth and somewhere below the stars. Their abode was not visible to mortal eyes, but if human sight could be extended, perhaps human eyes could see the comings and goings of the gods, and follow their course to where they landed in the mortal earthly realm.
Read More The Union of the SpyglassThe newly appointed Captain Dorus gazed at his new crew, each one interviewed and hand-picked by him. The not-so-hotshot pilot, Orson, who retired early after she was nearly killed flying into a star during a practice maneuver. The experienced engineer, Rekha, whose tendency to tinker a little too much got her booted off the first four ships she was assigned to. A doctor, Shade, who had no specialty because she kept getting distracted by new discoveries. And the actor, Kellu, whose purpose there no one—including himself—quite understood.
Read More The Renegade D.O.R.K.S.Waiting. We’ve been waiting for thirty minutes. A nuisance, maybe, if I were out in the world on an errand or anticipating someone’s arrival. But here, in the antechamber, poised on the threshold of the most important thing I will ever do with my life, or the grandest failure of my life, those thirty minutes have stretched into the last thirty years of my life. It must be worse for the person on the other side of the antechamber door, the patient waiting for us to save his life.
Read More The AntechamberDoes the flower remember who built it? Is it trying to tell me? Is that why I’ve kept having these dreams whenever I consumed the formula?
The dreams of the man who made the flower?
Read More Panfloria MagnificaEver since humanity has taken to the sky, there have been forces at play that seek to bring us back down to the earth. And forces at play that aim to keep us airborne.
Read More The Singing KingThe last Great Machine is dying. We don’t know how to fix it. We don’t even know what it does. We only know that when it dies, we too will die.
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