Showing results for "dave" in Space Opera

High above Daros, 16-year-old Brecca Vereen prepares to unload a cargo of trade goods aboard her father's ship, The Envy's Price. Nellen Vereen shows her a mysterious artifact bound for a contact below, one that will earn them a lot of credits, and one that they definitely won't be declaring to customs. Materializing out of nowhere, alien invaders fire upon all ships and knock out communications. The Envy's Price is crippled, and as her father tries to guide it down from orbit, Brecca rescues the illicit artifact and jettisons in a life pod to an uncertain fate below.

In 2157, Mars Arcanum Colony trembles on the edge of annihilation after a fusion core crisis sends fatal ripples through the red world and the shipping lanes beyond it. The only ship that can still rewrite the outcome is the Aegis Vortex, a temporal craft crewed not by celebrities of conquest but by neighbors who have learned to pray, repair, and keep promises.

I watched as the alien weapon’s neutronium hull fractured and then exploded. The antimatter-driven explosion engulfed the remaining three ships. Even neutronium is not impervious to antimatter. In one final act of love, my wife had saved us. A piece of my heart died that day in the Paradise system. In a way, the wound never healed. I learned to live with it. I raised our son as best I could. I carried out the mission. But I missed the woman who represented everything good in my life.

Lem is adapting to her new home aboard a strange spaceship in an even stranger universe, where the misfit crew of the Teapot have more than enough trouble on their hands running their interplanetary charter service. But when they accept an urgent assignment, they have just one week to save a race of cat-people from certain destruction. Stuck with a disaster-platypus of a project manager and a population seemingly determined to thwart their own rescue, the Teapotters face the impossible job of herding cats and evacuating the planet before it’s blown to smithereens.

An imperfect hero for an imperfect time. For generations, Riker men have been the best of the best. For the Battleborn that comes with a cost. I spit out the blood in my mouth. I had to give the other guy credit. That was a fine right hook. Every bit as good as my mom used to give me. Of course, the best right hooks were the ones I landed on the other guy rather than the ones the other guy landed on me. My dear departed mother had always taught me it was better to give than receive.

I was drifting alone in intergalactic space...in a suit of busted up Battleborn armor. My oxygen was almost gone. No power. No heat. I was freezing. The only question left to be answered in my life was the manner of my death. Would I suffocate...or die of hypothermia?