Contact

Ryden sloshed through the toxic muck that sucked at his boots beneath the tangled thorn grass. It wasn't grass, of course—that was terracentric thinking—but on strange planets the mind tries to force things into familiar shapes. His unit was twelve days into its march with no obvious end. Twelve days of orange fog and swatting… Continue reading Contact

Not Alone in the Dead City

Martina crouched low as she picked her way through the dead city, sprinting between scattered debris. It was hard to tell what used to be a street and what used to be a building and what used to be a body. She popped out from behind a twisted rail switch, wrenched up from the ground… Continue reading Not Alone in the Dead City

Pattern Breakers

The world was made of patterns. Eo lived to break them. It wasn't that he was antagonistic, quite the opposite. He just knew the truth: within the patterns lay the malice. The bigger patterns were called cycles. Paradoxically, the bigger ones were harder to see. The interlocking cycles could form larger patterns still, large enough… Continue reading Pattern Breakers