The Writing Lab of Axel Cushing

 (Author's Note: this was inspired by a writing prompt on r/humansarespaceorcs .)      It's gotta be one of those days when you're just getting people asking you for stuff.  "Hey, buddy, can you spare a dimebag?"  "Pardon me, but do you have some spare change for the Ventrethi war orphans?"  But the day has officially hit the limit for unreasonable requests for me with this one.      "Hello, human.  Can I have a gun?"      I localize the speaker, looking down.  Rikki, young, female, probably from near The Tombs given the height and general stature.  Shorter and more frail than other members of her species.  Chronic malnutrition will do that to a person.  Just one more hard luck case in New Eden.  "And what, pray tell, makes you think I have a gun?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.  "More to the point, what makes you think I'm willing to part with one if I did have it?"    ...

"Your presence is greatly appreciated, Jack," hummed Vudro. "This is not a situation which we have a great deal of experience with. And the potential...complications due to the patient's unique status are more than I care to think about." Hartmeister nodded as he looked through the subject's service file. Several interesting facts stood out. "Vudro, I know it wasn't your doing, but could you tell me what the hell your brass was thinking? This guy shouldn't have been anywhere close to the front lines, let alone that far behind them." "Situational expediency. The mission was hastily assembled, he had the requisite technical skills, so they detached him for temporary duty." "The right man at the wrong time," Hartmeister sighed. "Don't expect miracles, old buddy." "I will not object to a miracle should it occur," Vudro said with a thin smile. ...

Langstrom scanned the board intently. The fleet (hah!) of ships which the Erebus Group had assembled were running silent. Periodic comm laser bursts, routed through an elaborate network of buoys scattered between the orbits of Venus and Saturn, would update Command Central with the positions of the fleet. The task groups had their individual targets, each had their own specific battle plans. If this went even halfway right, it would deliver a body blow to the alien invaders which humanity could capitalize on. Give them enough time to gather their strength and deliver the coup de grace . It had been a quarter-century of backbreaking, heartbreaking, and mind-numbing work. All of it. The comm network, the fleet, the battle armor, the enhancement programs to let humans operate in zero-G for extended periods of time without bone or muscle loss (among other "improvements"). Trying to get even a fraction of humanity unified to face the threat, and do it in a way which didn't mov...

Eklav twitched as the door to Sones' shop was yanked open. The four Droughka who entered first were clearly bodyguards. It was their principal that was more of a concern. Wai-pru Dralpa was well known among the residents of New Madripoor Spaceport. Too vicious to be a "respectable businessman," not quite personable enough to be a "godfather," Wai-pru was a typical Caltiki crime boss. But even he was smart enough not to cause trouble here. Not with Sones. Squaring his small shoulders, Eklav tried to put a welcoming smile on his demi-rodent face. "Can I help you?" he asked politely. "I need to speak with your boss," Wai-pru replied with a dismissive wave of his fingers. "Go get him." "I can hear you from back here, Wai-pru," came a ringing tenor voice from the workshop area. A moment later, Rayland Sones came out, wiping his slender hands with a shop rag. "And I...

Hello, I'm Gordon Ramsey IX, and welcome to the season premiere of Kitchen Monsters . This season, we're going to explore the Ardolu Sector's dangerous delicacies. As always, I'm joined by my faithful sous chef and animal wrangler, Clive Irwin. Our appetizer course for tonight is deep fried Frutaxian medusae with a cream sherry aperitif and a spicy pomodoro dipping sauce. Now, the Frutaxian medusa bears a not-insignificant resemblance, structurally, to sea anemones on Earth. They multiply rapidly when outside the heavy gravity well of Frutaxi 2, which might explain why they were deployed against Southern Europe and North Africa during the Biohorror Wars. Yet they fry up remarkably well, almost like a crunchier version of calamari. So, first, we need to flip the medusa over and blanch the nematocysts on the crown. Just like that, thank you, Clive. We need to blanch them in a strong red wine vinegar solution, at least 20% acidity, fo...

Solar Sports Illustrated Issue 23, 2130 CE Belting Out Rock Hits It's half obstacle course and half astrophysics problem. To thrill junkies, it's quaintly referred to as "skipping stones." And like all great challenges, it is deceptively simple in its premise. From a given platform, an individual plants their feet against the end of a solenoid activated ram and is launched out into the Asteroid Belt. A "skipper" squeezes into a specialized spacesuit, one which tries to strike the right balance between durability, life support endurance, and as little extra mass as possible. The goal is to reach a targeted platform on the far end of a course in the least amount of time. The suits have minimal thrusters and only a limited amount of fuel capacity. The challenge comes from trying to generate a series of gravitational slingshots around various asteroids to not only increase velocity, but also adjust one's orientation an...