Maxwell Sanders pressed the phone closer to his ear as if that would somehow bring comprehension. “Did you say trolls?”
“Yes, Max.” With her words, he could picture Amalia’s rigid posture.
He ran a hand over his scalp. “I can’t redo the aluminum plant blueprints because your foreman believes in fairytales.”
Read MoreHorizontal RainLifting the stopper from the vial to his nose, Penn inhaled slowly. Against the neutral backdrop of his ship’s cleanroom, he picked out aromas of quince, elderberry, and bright Martian soil that hinted of blood, with undercurrents of cinnamon and Zeta Epsilon’s fragrantly sweet longgrass.
Read MoreScenting the DarkLena rocked back and forth, feet aching from standing so long, as if the metal floors were harder in the auditorium than anywhere else in the ship. The paper bib she wore rustled as she shifted. The waiting that the high-holy put the prospectives through made Lena nervous.
Read MoreBeyond the Garden CloseWhen the matriarch announced that she was sending the sixteen members of Pimi’s small-family across the ocean to settle in Repp-Virja, Pimi thought it the end of her life. For though she had seen only seventeen full years, Pimi considered herself ready to fill her crop and begin the social rounds, seeking a mate.
Read MoreThe Bride RepleteOne of the great aspects of being a publisher is that you get to watch talented newcomers become masters of the craft. Apex has been fortunate enough to ride the rising crests of a number of authors as they have went from fairly obscure to well-respected and more widely appreciated.
Read MoreEditorial Dispositions: March 2010The battery is a big one, a nice big red one, enough to run the ceiling fan and the turntable at the same time, as long as the fan is on low. And that’s fine. It’s enough of a breeze and doesn’t kick up too much dust that way.
Read Morep.a. chicMany years ago, when I was a boy of only ten, I was in a terrible crash on the cliffs south of Io Town, where nights are a deep tundra freeze and afternoons are as hot as a summer on the long plains. Even now, I close my eyes and I can still see Sheila’s face just before she was crushed under two thick layers of plasteel.
Read MoreThe Lady or the TigerThe earth is rich in textures and smells. It hurtles by, your clawed hands scrabbling at earth, stones and tree roots, your prey’s odours hooked into your nostrils, pulling you along with fragrant fingers of meat and blood and ordure.
Read MoreThe Killing StreetsI keep my mouth shut, try not to look at her.
Read MoreWondrous Days