In the darkness, water rushed over Waylon's mouth and washed down his back-tilted face. The black bath towel draped over his head was soaked and its weight pulled his neck back. Someone had a hand on his chest, so every time he tried to hold his breath they gut-punched him and he gasped reflexively, sucking… Continue reading Where Credit’s Due
Tag: Interrogation
Mind is Mind
The small jump shuttle, its name and serial numbers and various tracking devices destroyed in faraway systems, hard docked with the remote outpost. The ship had never been here before, but the pilot had. Sofia shut down the engines and locked the thrusters. Then she started up the various maintenance cycles, including the FTL scrubber… Continue reading Mind is Mind
Freerider
Elijah tried to be somewhere else in his mind. Anywhere else. But he couldn't do it. Even trying to hold the idea of imagining he was somewhere else was a stuttering and disjointed struggle. The pain was too much. Too intense. Too absorbing. He should have been dead a long time ago. Instead of walling… Continue reading Freerider
Sternutative Precognition
In an unnumbered subbasement beneath a nondescript concrete building in the brutalist style, Dario walked through mazelike, angular hallways, led by guards. For as many times as he'd been here he still got lost. But that was sort of the point. He'd been called in about an hour ago; read the brief on the way… Continue reading Sternutative Precognition
Mind Reader
"What the hell is this?" Aixa was distrustful of police to begin with, but this was just blatantly wrong. The fact that they'd let her—a known black market dealer—see it only revealed their desperation. It didn't make her feel good about her prospects of being released. They wouldn't want her to go spreading rumors. "I… Continue reading Mind Reader
A Serious Problem
Its face was a putrid shade of orange, like fruit gone to rot. It had only the most basic impression of the necessary features—eyes, nose, and flat mouth—but lacked detail. No wrinkles, no whiskers, no creases or blemishes, no freckles or scars or tired bags beneath the eyes. The lack of definition made the flecks… Continue reading A Serious Problem
Wired
There was a portrait on the wall, and for some reason Kilbourn couldn't take her eyes off it. It was black ink on canvas that had grown sickly yellow-green long ago. She couldn't decide if the face was a man's or a woman's. Every time she thought she'd made up her mind those eyes seemed… Continue reading Wired
Memory Games
There was a high droning hum. Ice water came down in buckets like razors licking at her cheeks and shoulders and thighs. Oh, she thought, it's me; I'm screaming. I thought I was dead. "Wake up, Violet. Wake up." Her body was a vague outline in her own head, a far away pain that she was tethered… Continue reading Memory Games
Done Playing Nice
"If you had nothing to hide, why did you fire off all the escape pods and try to scuttle the ship?" The lanky captain looked like a wax manikin who'd spent a little time in an oven, his features drawn and sullen. His bottom lip quivered uncontrollably and his pink, swollen eyes sat atop gaunt,… Continue reading Done Playing Nice
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