Box of Dreams

She’s back in the warehouse. She knows, feeling cold, what to expect. Another bad dream. Dance’s dreams of bugs, of people being dropped like so many slack sacks of potatoes into boxes with green sides, larger than coffin-sized boxes, my God, in lab buildings that extend for hundreds of feet, …

Wakeup Call

The light is blessedly dim, he’s not sure why. Dance can smell his partners sitting nearby, hastily washed, with the old traces of swamp and more faintly of bug, and a lot more loudly, the taint of fear. They can’t talk to him, though. They couldn’t hear him respond if …

Naga reports

Notes from General Wojo’s buried files First reports from Drin, dictated during recovery: 1) In spite of other reports that the naga defied remote commands, during combat the naga performed very well, and was capable of withstanding bug fire, unlike myself. Appended are reports on my injuries. During the helicopter …

Dragon In The Fire

He’s sitting flat on the ground. His head is empty. His allies have fled, blown towards safety on the magnetic wind he made for them, and he hasn’t felt this alone in months. Honey and machine-oil stench precede the division of mindless once-men chittering in frequencies he no longer hears– …

Strings for Cases

Barret’s got a cracked old plastic keyboard across his lap, rocking, and stroking the keys, silently playing, totally unable to hear the ancient electronic speaker, so he doesn’t even have it turned on. He’s playing it like he can hear every note, rocking his head in concentration. Dance feels more …

Barret’s Notebook

“All the stuff Auren gave me,” Barret says, “the first part, it was all numbers, man.” “Ahh, then I have for you the right guy. We have Drin,” Dance says, without bothering to exhale. His abdominal cavity feels as if it’s been explored by merciless hands. Someone working his major …