Fiction: Acceptable Risks

I agreed to meet her in the relative quiet of station night.

A space station never sleeps; the same work goes on all the time. But in a nod to our animal selves, some of the station’s lights dim at a certain hour, and business tends to be done more quietly while not quite half the people sleep.

I knew why she wanted to see me. We had a history. It was almost businesslike; we would make an exchange, and then I wouldn’t see her again until she wanted to make another exchange.

I walked slowly down the twilit corridor toward her apartment. Station personnel like me have quarters; civilians have apartments. It’s a nice distinction. Someday I’d like to have an apartment, but what would I do on Outreach Four if I weren’t in Spacefleet?

At her door, I paused. If I got caught, I’d be cashiered and sent back to Earth. Worse, her part of the exchange…

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Fiction: Gentle Winds and Waters Near

The reboot program worked furiously for seventeen minutes, trying to get Killmech 215-70308 back into action. The basic repair functions were destroyed; rebooting was the only chance for reactivation. The reboot attempt would continue until it was successful or the mech was permanently powered down.During the eighteenth minute, the mech’s sensor array and AI came online.

The mech realized that it was on the ground. None of its limbs or its assortment of weapons were active, and neither was its powerplant. A quick diagnostic revealed that they would never be online again. The mech was alive on limited battery power.

It listened for the sounds of the battle but heard nothing.

The battle is over. Were we successful?

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