Copyright © by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.
Featured image art generated by Jason H. Abbott using starryai.
My sickness has left me blind. Ill and pleading, I’m dragged away by rude hands. Pushed to a stone floor, I begin my quarantine as a cell door clunks shut. Alone, there is a growl beside me. “Chewie, is that you?” Our last rocket breaches space as fascists and food rioters smash our doors. They will never touch it. Golden records. Enshrined knowledge. Our gift to the civilizations that will come after us. Awaiting, gleaming in Luna’s arms… Within her crater of Tycho. Rixla missed another drone. “I can’t hit them!” “Switch seats!” Tim yelled. The kids swapped chairs, the blue girl taking control of the Phoenix. “Can you shoot?” “Can you do a barrel roll?” The spaceship spun dodging ion bolts as Tim blasted a drone to bits. Gork pulled a lever. “Dynotherms connected!” “Infracells up!” Mork nodded, monitoring the engine. “Mega-thrusters are go!” Para said, lowering her goggles at the helm. They launched, and Squiz the goblin shouted over the roaring noise. “ORCS! IN! SPAAAAAAAACE!!” Sundown came, the lunar shifts happened, and the couple dealt with the inconvenience of fixing dinner as werewolves in a too-small kitchen. “My family always freaked out at full moon,” she said. He chopped onions. “Not mine. We stayed in and played board games.” The homunculus is toddler-sized and proportioned, but has adult features. She loads the shotgun and hands it to him. “How can you do that?” he asks. “You’re two hours old!” “I have your skills, Master!” “Don’t call me that!” “Boss?” “No.” She squints. “Dad?” “The worst intrigue I’ve faced? The Jester Assassin, m’lady.” She smiles. “Killing jokes?” “No. Puns,” the old advisor said. “Death by disgust!” “Ghastly. How did you ever survive?” “I’m hard of hearing,” he nodded. “It was a near-deaf experience.”