space-opera

Do you love me?_ His voice rang flat in his own ears, deadened and weighted with the recognition there was only one chance, and a fool__ chance at that

We don__ get to choose what happens to us__ut we always get to choose how we react to it.

Guilt ripped into her like a rusty, serrated knife. It took up residence in her soul, settling in and getting comfortable so it could saw away ragged pieces of flesh and leave her to bleed.

In sum, every pore of his being oozed one thing_okay, FINE. Every pore oozed two things. The first was irrelevant. The second was dangerous.

That excuse only works until you discover the person is merely an individual like any other.

He had seen many criminals in his years in Division. Dangerous men and even more dangerous women. Small-time hucksters and savvy crime lords. Spies, gangsters, assassins, insurgents and wannabe-revolutionaries. True believers and soulless mercs willing to kill children for the right price.

I thought carefully as I watched Eyuran treat Uncle Orewen__ wounds. There is no one in their right mind who would assault a Danna, simply because the enemy of an individual becomes the enemy of the whole kennar. Kennar are usually related to each other, which would probably make the unlucky person the enemy of the entire Tue Dannan.And Danna settle things the old way.

So that__ why I say __ever have anything you can__ walk away from._ Especially a woman. For them, because this is a dangerous life we lead and you never know if or when it will blow back on those close to you.""And for you, because trust me when I tell you there exists no greater perdition than the guilt of causing the death of someone you love.

If her daughter__ ship had been disintegrated in space there would never be evidence of it, never an answer to what had happened to her.If she stopped to ponder the implications she might break. And Admiral Miriam Solovy did not break.

She thought he might have said her name, but it was background radiation accompanying the hum in her ears and the symphony in her head___ song of quantum mechanics and trajectory calculations and astroscience physics and where to go, where to go, where to_

A pulse. Beat-beating against her palm. Alive. Beat by beat the bottomless whirlwind of perceptions and data and images and sensations careening through her mind__o many how can this tiny skull hold them all__egan to abate in time to the rhythm of not her pulse, but his.

If humanity is annihilated because we were too busy squabbling with one another to manage a proper stand, we probably deserve the annihilation.

Time slowed as metal shards enveloped her like shattered glass. None pierced her of course, but it seemed as though she might be able to reach out and pluck one from the sky.She settled for stretching out an imagined hand, palm upturned, and letting a shard fall through it untouched like the ghost she had become.

God, she was beautiful. Hair a tangled mess, clothes torn, lips pale and swollen, skin streaked in dirt. And she was so damn beautiful and flawed and perfect.

Blood drummed in her ears and adrenaline coursed through her veins, driving her to move. To act. Her hands trembled against his chest.Time vanished out from beneath her feet, one accelerating second at a time.

As soon as he had departed she directed her attention to the others.__ need a shielded containment box, radiation gloves and a micro welding torch. And a crescent wrench.

Because we were the good guys. We were in the right. The universe looks out for people who act with honor in furtherance of an honorable cause. It must, or we never would have gotten this far as a species.___e won__his little conflict and a thousand like it__ecause we were destined to win. The universe will allow no other outcome.

Good luck with the aliens, and if we survive this feel free to look me up on your next vacation.___ood luck with the aliens? You are such a prick.