Fried chicken, wine from a jar, and a tiny hovel next to a logging mill welcomed Graye to his new home in the foothills of the northern reaches. Planet Azaylia-4 was a barely-habitable rock halfway between Alliance and Federation space, but it served its purpose well. Most worlds between the enemies were barren wastelands, making for a perfect buffer zone, so for months the Alliance had built up a hidden base and prepared to strike.
Mya cradled the small rectangular box of candy like it was her last. She imagined slipping one into her cheek, where she knew it would cling there and slowly fill her mouth with sugary goodness. As a veteran sweet tooth, experience told her the hard shell would slowly melt, gradually releasing the gooey chocolate inside. Even with the box still closed, she could almost taste them. The anticipated joy was more than she could bear, and she tore open the top of the box and dumped them onto the cold, hard metallic table.
I blinked and missed 2022. If you shared that experience, I wrote this article for you.
Amidst mental and physical fatigue, Planets Mag continued to produce thoughtful and helpful material, and I felt it was worth travelling back in time to see what exciting things happened. Unfortunately, my Lorean Class Temporal Lance was broken and ex-Emperor Darth Balls was missing in action, so I settled for opening the cabinet of published posts and re-read our content. As I flipped through the files, several pieces caught my attention. Our Articles of War project grew, our science fiction collection added some new adventures, the magazine’s invitational games grew more popular, and our strategy guides continued to support Nu‘s growing population. In all, it was a successful year.
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This is a short story series I’ve been working on. It’s a story about a cook, Timmy Tim, who comes from a long line of fearsome space pirates, and his sidekick, Slink. It’s meant to be a fun and humourous little bit. It was also inspired by the 90s game, VGA Planets.
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The occasion called for baked apples and fresh roe, garnished with asparagus, string beans, and carrots. It was exquisite, refined, and no well-to-do, highfalutin aristocrat ever disapproved of it. The galley was empty, almost silent, except for the tapping of a chef knife on a wooden cutting board.
Continue readingHello, good evening, and welcome to this special edition of Planets Magazine Action News. I’m Jim Chancellite, coming to you Live! from the Cognitium War!
As always in these special reports, there’s tremendous amounts of excitement here at Broadcast Center. We’re joined tonight by military expert Col. Tolliver South, late of the Federation Navy, who is able to be with us live in the studio.
Continue readingI was standing just inside the hatch, looking down the barrels of two hand disruptors, each held by an identical crewman. But I was in combat armor; no need for a little thing like that to intimidate me.
“Oh, please!” I said through the suit’s speaker. “It’d take you half an hour to burn through my armor, and that’s if I was polite enough to stand still. Why don’t you put those silly things down and let me finish my delivery?”
Continue readingGradually, I came out of it to see the face of Founder’s Landing tumbling overhead. A little at a time it started coming back to me; I was… I was… cargo?
OSTRICH TO CARGO, DO YOU COPY, OVER — OSTRICH TO CARGO…
Even as I clicked my mike in response, it came to me I’d been hearing them for a while. Suddenly, I realized where I was and what was happening. I’d passed out after all. I checked the timer — no, still on schedule. Thank the gods.
Continue reading“You about ready?” Eddie asked. “Your window’s coming up, in about–“
“FIVE MINUTES!” Sanchez’s voice blared over the intercom. Eddie grimaced.
“Yeah, in about five minutes or so. Give or take. Just, you know, kinda guessing at it.” He helped with one of the clamps, checked the holster, and handed me the case. “We’ll be watching for you at the rendezvous in ninety minutes. Don’t miss us, or it’s a long walk back home.”
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