The drop platform eased into position with a moan of shifting metal. A dull gray interior cone around Cpl. Alex Moreau and her five squad mates glitched and went clear, revealing a breathtaking view of the planet below that used to be their home—Earth.
Alex could barely hear the shuddering metal above LCpl. Yip’s song blaring from the internal speakers—“Johnny Too Bad” by The Slickers—which was the idea.
The transparency of the cone was an illusion, a feed from nano-camera paneling on the exterior surface. Streaks of faded, dead pixels—from entry burn licking at the pod—reminded Alex how insane their job really was.
Orbital Ops, cream of the crop.
Today, though, they were glorified door openers. Yip and Pfcs Kebede, “Rummy” Loeb, “Gidget” Oakes, and Barzanji were all her responsibility. She told herself she’d bring them all back up the gravity well to Mount Olympus Station like she always had.
Continue reading “FREE READ—Drop Squad Nemesis”
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I’m not entirely sure how I managed to miss this story or how it was kept out of the press, but evidently somewhere in New York there is a now empty grave no longer possessing its former occupant. The long since deceased Rod Serling has risen from the grave. He is once again walking among us, but living under the protection of an assumed name.
patrick loveland 