Just out - Jan and Feb 2025 - on eBook, paperback and Kindle Unlimited - "The greatest book of sci-fi stories published today!' (Quote from the author after his third sip at his pint of Inspiration Ale.)
Get an idea of a couple of the stories from the abridged extracts below... and follow them up from the book - Free on Kindle Unlimited
Choices
‘Boss, we humans scavenge for discards and slag spoil. This stuff is too good to be tossed out. None of these extraction plants throw away ore as pure as this. The Zigs sure don’t waste stuff like this out here.’
‘Shut it, Deemzi. It’s all a matter of choices. We can leave it, and scrat about somewhere else. Or load it up and be grateful. Don’t you think we got difficulties enough with gravity at 2% and atmosphere at a point over zero? These dumps and bays are their waste-tips, the slaggings of metallic minerals, after they’ve been initial-processed at the mine-head. Okay, so they’re high value to us, but they’ve dumped it all here for disposal as back-fill into the derelict old works.
‘It’s always permitted. The aliens don’t mind, as long as we don’t make a mess.’
‘I think we should buzz through,’ I told him. ‘Make certain. This maybe slipped through.’
‘No. They might say we can’t. StellarFed agreements say we can. So let’s not confuse anybody, huh?’
‘But, Boss—’
Shy-Huuks
‘You go. Get in there and look.’ Pushing at me to go. Facets glittering with the firelight on them.
He’d only ever been hard business before. Aloof. Now he’s wanting me to— ‘What? Me go back in there? It’s glowing not far in. Look at it.’
He was getting more and more desperate, pacing, mouth writhing and gnashing, feelers knotting taut; jerking back and forth. Trying to head in there, hesitating. One more attempt; closer. His wing folds were curling. They’re reckoned not to feel pain, but he obviously was doing, and was almost melting down; wings on fire. I dragged him back.
‘Shy-huuks! Stay down. I’ll go.’ Not that it’ll do any good. They’re gonna be deep-basted by now.
I went in, water thrown all over me; more on my coat. Shouting for Ocora. Deeper in, dodging and ducking. Scramble-running in the glowing heat; near-crawling and choking. Yoikit, the ceiling’s glowing; melting hot. Big patch dripping fire-blobs.
Not here; not there. No sign....
Comments