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Weekly Contest #376
I was in the old Supr Mart, checking the meat department, when I saw her. The late-afternoon sun shone through the windows, hiding me from her view. I studied her for a moment. She was skinny, like most survivors, with long, stringy arms and legs. She wore some ratty jeans, a green T-shirt that read "May the Forest be With You", and an overlarge denim jacket. Her brown eyes scanned in all directions, her brunette hair glinting in the sunlight as she searched for my brethren. I decided to take a chance and speak to her. "Hello," I said, openi...
Weekly Contest #301
"I didn't sign up for this," Sir Neville said as he sat astride his warhorse, looking at the vast forest ahead of him. "You most certainly did," Croyden said. Smoke curled from the dragon's nostrils as he regarded the knight. I stood beside my horse and regarded the two of them. Sir Neville looked dashing upon his black warhorse, blue eyes glinting through his upraised visor, while Croyden was trying his best to look menacing, but I could see the worry in his eyes. "You have to take the bad with the good," Croyden continued. "We got found ou...
Weekly Contest #288
The rain came down in sheets, drenching passersby and creating a gloom the gaslights struggled to penetrate. Kel Wayfarer was miserable. Today was not her best day. Her negotiations with the Sallust Magician's College had gone sour, their chancellors balking at the price increase for hellebore that her company wanted to impose; her steam car had broken down on the way to town, costing her time and money to repair; and to top it all off, the rainstorm that suddenly erupted as she left the college. She had spent the last half an hour unsuccess...
Weekly Contest #265
"I've got some good news and some bad news." The Castellan of Bastion-P stood before the bullpen, sweeping his brown eyes across us. "The good news is that Sanctioner Karleton passed his exams and is now a Probator." Well-wishers surrounded me, shaking my hand or slapping me on the back. Everyone likes it when a local boy makes good. The Castellan let the celebration go on for a few minutes before holding up his hand for silence. "What's the bad news," asked Swift, a grizzled veteran of twenty years. "The bad news is that Probator Karleton h...
Weekly Contest #262
Midsummer, hottest day of the year. Inferno’s twin suns were low in the sky, their heat threatening to overwhelm my groundcar’s cooling systems. The weather forecast predicted a high of thirty-five. Given how warm it was already, I placed my bets on forty. I nodded at a couple of sanctioners coming off night duty as I walked into the squad room of Bastion-V, the cool air a welcome relief. I sat down at my desk. I was about to pull up the night shift’s action reports when the castellan leaned out of her office. “Karleton, get in here.” I wen...
Weekly Contest #258
“Where did this come from,” I asked, looking up from the grainy pict displayed on the hololith to Anna, my Intelligence officer. Light from the overhead lumens glittered off the lenses of her augmented eyes. “I found it in an old data packet I was about to delete. It appears to be from Lysander.” That caught my attention. Anna and I had been part of his entourage before I was made a full Inquisitor. Six years ago, he had been declared rogue by the Inquisitor Silas Ventus, who accused him of Chaos corruption. I didn't believe it, Lysander was...
Weekly Contest #255
Sometimes the end of an emperor's reign is a time to celebrate great deeds done in the name of Roma, the spreading of her power, influence and glory across the face of the world. The end of the reign of Aelius Lucius Scaevola was not one of those times, marked by denial and betrayal. Aelius' reign started strong. He brought the war with the Parthians that his mother had started three years earlier to a satisfactory conclusion. Gold flowed into Roman coffers and the world trembled. Surely, it was a sign of things to come. But it was not t...
Weekly Contest #245
Sarex stepped out into the balcony of the Governor's Palace and looked out over the city of Queenstown. It was quite early, and usually, the streets were quiet, but the locals were making preparations for the upcoming eclipse. To him, it was orbital mechanics: the Dark Sister passed in front of the Light Sister, blocking some or all of its light. To the locals, it held a religious significance that he couldn't quite fathom. Not that he went out of his way to get an explanation. He didn't care about what the locals or anyone else believe...
Weekly Contest #239
Of all the things he owned, why was it the toaster that came to life? It happened on one of the worst days in all 42 years of the life of Thomas Aquinas Jones. He had just been laid off by the IT firm he had devoted the last fifteen years of his life to in the name of downsizing, and his girlfriend had walked out on him that morning. All he needed was a dead dog and he’d be the subject of a Country and Western hit. Near the end of that terrible day, he arrived at home, threw his keys on the kitchen table, and launched into a twenty minut...
Weekly Contest #235
As I walked onto the hippodrome in Antioch and its cheering crowds, I wondered how I let Acco talk me into this insane race. It was a week ago, I had just finished a race in Magna Leptis and was celebrating my victory in the local brothel. I sat in the waiting lounge, sipping the local vintage and waiting for Johanna, my evening choice, when Acco sat at the table. Acco was from Gaul, with black hair cropped close to his skull. He was a charioteer before becoming my agent, and he still had the athletic build of a racer. He flagged down a serv...
Weekly Contest #234
My time is coming. I don't know when the killing blow will come, or how it will be delivered. Will I be lowered into the Tullianum to be strangled, starved, or beheaded? Will a legionary be sent to run me through or force me to commit suicide? Maybe my end will be at the Flavian amphitheater, killed by gladiators or exotic beasts? Or maybe the Emperor has something else in mind: put adrift on a collapsing boat, being drowned in honey, or put into a bronze bull with a fire burning underneath? My only consolation is that she hasn't had me...
Weekly Contest #217
“So, you want to know how I got so filthy rich?” the old man asked. He sat by the fire in his great room, sipping brandy. Seated in the chair beside him was a newly minted squire, pledged to serve Sir David of the house Trelayne. The young man brushed his red hair out of his eyes and leaned forward. “It’s not a tale I tell to just anyone,” said the old man, whose name was Joffrey. He took another drink before continuing. “But you seem like a clever young man. It’s cliche to say, but you do remind me of myself when I was your age. “My...
Weekly Contest #214
“Pack up your things,” my father said as he stuck his head in my room. “We’ve got tickets for the air galley tomorrow. We need to be at the aerodrome in Londinium by the third hour.” I groaned. We had just got back from Dalmatia just a week ago and the month before that, we were in Caledonia. We spend more time abroad than we do at home. “Can’t I stay at home this time,” I pleaded. “Briseis can keep an eye on me.” Father frowned. “I’m afraid not Darryle,” he said. “Briseis is getting too old to be your nursemaid. If things go well,...
Weekly Contest #212
From Lucius Iulius Nerva to Gaius Sempronius Flavianus Greetings, I write to you from Alexandria, using the new telegraph. These Greeks are clever lads. I sometimes wonder why they are not our masters. They say that all of Romania will soon be strewn with telegraph wires, making communication almost instantaneous. I have taken up my posting as an aedile to Marcus Aelius Sejanus, appointed governor of Aegyptus by the Western Emperor. My trip from Rome was uneventful, for which I offered thanks to Neptune upon my arrival. Speaking of R...
Weekly Contest #211
I looked into the fireplace, mesmerized by the flickering flames. Sting beside me, Professor Adamson swirled his cognac in its snifter, watching the firelight through the cinnamon-colored liquid. “I suppose we should do something about it,” I ventured, broaching the subject for the umpteenth time this evening. Adamson started from his reverie. He took a sip from his snifter before replying. “No,” he said for the umpteenth time this evening. “Now is not the time.” I sat back in my chair. “The longer we wait, the greater potential for harm....
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