The way home…

“I don’t think they’re coming back.” General Charles Avocet frowned as he looked toward the corporal who peered over the scorch-marked yellow boulder. “They’re coming back,” he countered. The corporal shook his head. “No, sir.” He pointed toward the rolling plains of brownish-gray grass stretching southeast below the ridge where they’d sought shelter. “No sign…

It was somewhat surprising to find a silver-haired human woman sitting in the window seat – 13F – aboard the red-eye shuttle to Hekayt Prime. Vechkov Prague, holder of the ticket for seat 13E, rubbed at the salt-and-pepper stubble bristling from his pudgy cheeks as he waited for the Lotorian in front of him in…