The Writing Lab of Axel Cushing

Hatchin bit her lip as she watched the Vhretaxy blade separating Captain Gars' head from his shoulders. The ship had been taken by the Vhretaxy pirates six hours earlier, and only the fact Hatchin didn't appear on the crew manifest was the only reason she was still alive. Stowing away in a bulk cargo hauler seemed like such a good idea. But she hadn't reckoned on pirates making an appearance. Now, hiding in a maintenance nook, she had a ringside seat to the slaughter. It was only a matter of time before they dumped the air and left the carcass to drift. She bit her lip harder as her personal comm-link vibrated against the inside of her wrist unexpectedly. Who could be trying to call her at a time like this? Couldn't be pirates, could it? The comm-link buzzed against her wrist again, prompting Hatchin to turn her arm up. A link request, private channel, encrypted. Perhaps another member of the crew had survived. She tapped the co...

Rogni passed a hand over the admittance sensor, passing through the door into his superior's office. "You wished to see me, Consul?" "Indeed I did," Suirja replied amiably. "You're not in trouble. But I did want to have a professional improvement discussion with you." Lowering himself into the chair, Rogni shifted a little nervously. "Something wrong, Consul?" Suirja gave the young staffer a lopsided smile. "As a general rule, members of the Diplomatic Service do not use the phrases, 'completely inexplicable' or 'patently false allegations' in foreign power analysis papers when the Watchers went to such efforts to obtain useful intelligence. They tend to be...snippy in inter-departmental memos." "I understand it seems unprofessional, Consul, but it's the truth! I understand why the Terran Systems Alliance trades with the Cor...

  "Major, East Gate is reporting movement. Rekati troops advancing at a walk." Samwise Gordon raised an eyebrow at the report. "At a walk? That's different." Six months on Dimas 7-B had demonstrated that standard Rekati infantry procedure was to barrel headlong at a dead run against enemy positions. It was crude, it was wasteful, but it at least had the virtue of simplicity. "Any signs of heavy weapons?" "No, Sir. Gate guards are reporting all the Rekati weapons are slung." Gordon's other eyebrow joined its partner. Looking over at his aide-de-camp, the confusion was clear. "What do you make of this, Chief?" Chief Warrant Officer Luca Carson frowned in thought. "Your guess really would be as good as mine, Major," he replied in a rumbling bass voice. "I suppose they might be trying to surrender, but that's about as novel as them walking towa...

Frieda picked up the approaching hostiles through her seismic sensors long before she saw or heard them. Numbering twenty, likely laden with gear. A quick tap into the security feeds told the full story. Figures , she thought with a hint of exasperation as she dusted the display cases in the west portico. The one time I get a chance to make this place perfectly tidy, the family not being underfoot, and this happens. Amateurs. She sent a burst on the staff frequency, moving down the corridor towards the conservatory. The harp needed tuning, and she had a mind to try some new variations on Ravel's Piano Concerto For The Left Hand on her break. Unfortunately for that respite, the intruders were making straight for the patio outside the conservatory, It was the closest point of entry, and Frieda would not be pleased if fumble fingered Haslathi kidnappers damaged the instruments or the furnishings. More to the point, Kevin Manfredi would not pleased. An...

Galvin sat behind his desk, leaning forward with his fingers steepled as his aide escorted his guest into his office. "War Master Taon pn'Dothra to see you, Colonel." "Thank you, Issacs. Could you go make sure there's some coffee brewing? I may be needing a cup after this meeting." "Navy or Irish, Sir?" Issacs asked blandly. "Irish Navy." "Very good, Sir." Issacs saluted, then left the office, closing the door behind him. Galvin turned his attention fully to his guest. The Heglorai were considered to be some of the fiercest warriors in this neck of the Galaxy. Averaging almost three meters in height, heavily muscled, thick boned, their homeworld carrying a 1.4G gravity well, few could stand against them in single combat. And of the Heglorai, Clan Dothra held a place of pre-eminence and considerable honor. Galvin was quite certain he could...

Zylre watched intently as Leach disassembled the rail rifle and began to clean it. "May I ask you a question, Sergeant?" Leach smiled a little as he brought up a digi-loupe and started to apply cleaning solution to one of the rail components. "Besides that one, go ahead." "I am trying to understand what appears to be a data discrepancy in terms of combat efficiency. How is it your accuracy and range in engagements over the last 180 Earth days are significantly higher than your peers in other units?" "Well," Leach began slowly as he applied a sonic scrubber to a discolored spot on the rail segment, "I could be a smart-ass and tell you it's the same way you get to Carnegie Hall. But I'm pretty sure that's not what you want to hear." "Indeed. This anomaly is most puzzling." "If we take out the intangibles, combat record, individual psychology, b...