Featuring 5 new fictions this month, including a short story tie-in to the space opera novel, The Worker Prince by Bryan Thomas Schmidt. This new release is published by the good folks at Diminished Media Group, and is, in fact, their first product (see cover art by Mitch Bentley).
Check it out and tell them ResAliens sent you. Here’s my review of the novel, but in the mean time, read a prequel short story, “Rivalry on the Sky Course,” in this issue. Now, on to the rest of October’s offerings.
by Bryan Thomas Schmidt
BEEP! BEEP!
The alarm on the targeting computer of his VS28 starfighter filled Davi Rhii’s ears. He glanced down to see several blips had appeared. “Incoming enemy craft,” he announced into the comm channel then switched on his shields and prepared for his second encounter with the enemy that day.
by Karina Fabian
I tried to put on my humble face as the doors to the monastery grounds opened.
“Don’t suppose you’d take back a prodigal son?” I asked the novice serving as gatekeeper.
His eyes widened to see a dragon, but apparently, he’d heard my story, though I can’t imagine how. He stepped back, bowing.
I rejoined the Silent Brothers of Faerie.
by Louis N. Gruber
Three elderly gentlemen in formal wear shuffled into The Happy Hotcake, paused as if posing for photographers, bowed slightly to the other diners, and moved to their seats around a square table. One wore a silk top-hat. The Great Zandroni placed the hat gently, almost reverently, on the coat rack, turned, his magnificent cape swirling around him, and moved gracefully to his seat.
“Enough with the grand entrance, Zando,” said the Great Rappini, shorter, almost bald, a few gray hairs combed over his pate. “Nobody cares anymore.”
by Jeff Chapman
“It’s not fair,” said the Princess Desriella through clenched teeth, “that a hired girl should go in my stead.” Desriella thumped the arm of her chair. Her left foot rested on three pillows piled atop a footstool with a sheet draped over her bruised ankle.
“It can’t be helped,” said the Chamberlain. “And what a scandal would erupt if a princess from a neighboring kingdom snubbed Prince Arwek. Your father wants to flatter Arwek’s family, not insult them.”
by Steven Saus
Allaya straightens the cool pearls about her neck, then runs her dark hands down the stiff pink dress. A glance and sniff at the stove assures her that the ham is almost finished. Her lips arc into a tight smile. The vendor had finally programmed a cross onto the wall and a Bible onto the shelf, despite the mullahs’ fatwahs. She teeters only briefly in the heels.
The front door opens, and Robert calls in his fading London accent: “Honey, I’m home!”
