The Deadfire Manoeuvre (Corespace Universe)
By Calliope Rannis

Ember had been very bored when she had taunted two poorly-hidden Pirate Ambush Interceptors into chasing her ship across the asteroid field. Now she was regretting it, not least because they had both just fired heat-seeking missiles at her.

She immediately slammed the thrusters up to maximum speed and dived into a hail of rock, debris slicing past her craft with hull-tearing velocity as she tried to divert the missiles harmlessly into an obstacle. It wasn’t working as she hoped though – these projectiles were fancier than she would expect from simple pirates, because they clearly had obstacle avoidance within their tracking computers, dodging the mass of rocks just as well as her.

“You damn knuckleheads.” Ember muttered to herself, trying to calm her nerves. “Do you bozos even know how valuable those missiles are? You could have sold them for more credits than you’d ever get from my scrap.” She took another hard turn through a narrow gap between rocks, but the missiles easily adapted to the trajectory change.

This wasn’t working. Time for something drastic.

Glimpsing a clear space in the debris, Ember sprang into action. She slammed the thrusters into reverse, rapidly slowing the ship, before quickly turning the nose towards the clear space. Then, in a quick one-two action, she fired the forward thrusters in a single abrupt blast, before immediately flooding the engine with coolant, activating the emergency shutdown.

The ship went dark, the momentum of the final thruster flare sending her ship cleanly into open space. Looking back from her cockpit window, Ember saw the missiles’ relentless pursuit slow, as their tracking tried and failed to find her – and they found another source of heat to track instead.

Specifically, they found each other, their explosion shattering the asteroids around them.

Ember breathed a big sigh of relief, even as she rapidly worked to wake her ship back up. “I’m sorry Keyla.” She said, stroking the ship console reassuringly. “I won’t do that too often, don’t worry…”

Then, with a flare of light and fire, Ember and her ship flew off, leaving her pursuers far behind.

Chronicles of The Dragon: The Direct Approach
By Makokam

Rabat stood at the corner of the street, leaning against a pole, ostensibly waiting for the bus.

But his eyes were fixed on the museum across the street.

“We could go in through the roof,” he said quietly to his companion. “I know the skylight opens. I’m not sure how we’d get back up though. I don’t think I can jump that high and I know you can’t.”

The small cat-girl sitting on the nearby bench, hunched into herself and picking at her coat, sniffed at that.

“We could try picking the locks, but they’re all electric and I don’t know where we could get something for that.”

“Why don’t we just go in the front door?”

“Because that’s stupid.” He rubbed at his chin for a bit, “We could try sneaking in with a delivery…we don’t have much time to figure that out though.”

“This is dumb. I’m just gonna go knock on the door and get them to let me in,” and she hopped off the bench and dashed across the street.

“Berri!” Rabat snapped, “Get back here…” he trailed off and growled, “What the fuck is she doing?”

He fought the urge to run after her, since she was already knocking on the glass door and he could see a security guard coming over.

He couldn’t hear what was being said, but she was gesturing and pointing at things a lot.

And then the guard unlocked the door and let her in.

He started to walk with her, then she held up a hand and darted off. He looked like he was going to follow, but gave up almost immediately.

“What the fuck is she doing?” more intrigued than angry now.

He stood, and waited, and watched.

Minutes passed.

And then she was back, talking with the guard, who opened the door for her.

Berri came running back, and Rabat asked, “So did you get it?”

“Yeah,” and she held out an amulet. He reached for it and she snatched it back, “You’re gonna buy me dinner now, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, nodding, “You did good.”

I Can’t Believe That Worked!
By Chengir

The walls were dark and murky. It was like a maze. In the ceiling there were these innumerable long white tubes of light that flashed both bright and dim… obviously just to torture the damned. The entire place had a sort of soulless vibe to it. Humans walked about in a sort of mindless state. Doing whatever tedious task had been assigned to them by the superior demons and tormentors. Many of them looked as if they had forgotten they had ever been alive. Their bodies appeared as if they had decomposed beyond recognition. You could almost smell the rot in their brains… although that smelled strangely of disinfectant.

Ducking around a corner, Straxx took in a huge gulp of air. “I can’t believe that worked!”

“I know,” replied Pustule, wiping the sweat from his brow. “We just told them we were imps and they let us right it. Stupid door guards. We only had to throw a couple of coins in a box. What an ingenious plan.”

“The coins must be a tribute for the head demons,” Straxx noted. In all, this was the strangest sight he’d seen since the two goblins had fallen afoul of that sorcerer. They were almost run over by a car and saw something called a Starbucks. But he felt a sweeping sense of euphoria spread over his small green body. His long, pointed ears twitched. He steadied himself. They could see it up ahead.

“What does it say?” asked Pustule.

Straxx smiled. “It says ‘exit’.”

“I don’t know why I ever doubted you, Straxx,” Pustule was equally ecstatic. “We’re going to escape from hell itself.”

Then the two goblins ducked through the door under the sign and emerged into the light. There they found an ordinary-looking, undecayed human. He must have just recently died.

“How did you like it?” he asked.

Straxx squinted at the human. “Like what?”

“The charity funhouse?” He said, as if the answer was obvious. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I hear it filled with people in zombie makeup this year. Was it any good?”

The Cartographer
By RVMPLSTLTSKN (Fissure Library)

“But, my lady, there is an ethical argument to be made.”

“The fissure is catalogued. Is there any reason not to archive it, Cartographer?” Mornghynia asked. She tried to make it sound rhetorical.

Vrai was old, old enough that he had begun to grow hair. Sixty, perhaps. His pomegranate-colored fuzz was meticulously combed and he eschewed the usual headcovering their people wore in the Library. The Library was a static realm, tidally locked and dry sunward.

Mornghynia remembered her time in such a position at his age. He would want to gain and not lose what he had.

“Of course, my lady, but this is a change we have never recorded. A native ascendenc—.”

“A threat,” she said. “I’m not the only one concerned, Vrai. We don’t know what happened.”

“Which is exactly why we need to study it. Help the survivors.”

She closed her eyes. “Vrai, that is foolishness. We have no idea the implications of this incident nor if our knowledge is still true.”

“But they need help, guidance. Surely you would want the same in their position.”

She understood him. His argument was humanitarian, but naïve. “If my people chose to fashion a new god, I wouldn’t want the old powers or unknown peoples coming in to interfere in our lives.”

“But they didn’t choose this!”

She stared at him. She wasn’t the smiling type, especially not when she was right or when others made a mistake.

Vrai seemed to realise his mistake. He pawed his hair back and eyed her braid.

“How many realms have we mapped, Cartographer? How many of those fissures have been archived?”

“The dangerous few. Those we’ve contaminated blindly, such as the Dead Realm with those traitors.”

“And those Realms which pose a clear threat. Such as this ‘Crib’ as you’re calling it.” She came close to him, too close for his comfort. “Archive it.”

He shied away from her approach, the hem of her gossamer dress wafting on his toes. “Yes, my lady.”

She watched him leave, grateful she wouldn’t have to go into the archives to locate a suitable punishment.

Just Like a Charm
By JellyRelic

“Just a press…” Karma said, pressing the button on it’s head. A beep rang out, and the robot came to life. “Hello!” it spoke as it waved, and Karma stood back.

“Hah! Hahaha! Oh my god! It’s finally done!” Karma squealed, jumping up from her chair. Down beside her, a robot sat on the table.

She picked up the robot, and ran over to the living room.

“Kari, Celeste, look at this!” exclaimed Karma, holding it up in front of her.

“You just press this button, and… boom!” pressing the red button on the top caused a beep followed by a voice. “Hello!” it spoke again, and it waved once more.

“Oh, dude!” Kari yelled. “Can it do more?” she asked, staring at the screen.

Celeste glared at it, unsure of what to make of it. “What… is that, Karma?” she finally asked. “Is it dangerous?”

Karma looked dejected. “It’s NOT dangerous, and it won’t blow up this time! I promise!” she objected.

Kari looked up at Karma. “So, back to my original question, what else does this do?” she said, glancing back down at it.

Setting it down on the table, Karma looked at the screen. She examined it, and gave a command.

“Gidget, shake hands.” she said softly, and it extended one of its little arms. Karma took hold of it, and shook its hand. The screen changed, and the eyes tilted upwards, closing to form a pleased expression. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Gidget!” it said.

Kari looked at Karma, astonished. “I… I can’t believe it! That’s so cool!” she exclaimed, jumping from excitement. “Good job, Karma!” she said.

Celeste stood up, and walked over to it. “Does it listen to anyone?” she asked, before bending down to it’s level. Gidget turned it’s head to meet her gaze.

“Tell it to speak,” Karma said. “It might do something.”

Celeste looked up at Karma, and turned back to Gidget. “Gidget, please speak.” she said, softly and slowly. “What do you want to talk about?” its robotic voice said. “H-how?” Celeste asked

“Practice.” Karma said.

Calm Down, it’s Just Physics (Amalgam Universe)
C. M. Weller

When there’s no alternatives, they said, a Human will find one. What they didn’t mention, Ambassador Phri’aabl realised too late, was that Human’s inspired desperation could not be believed even after they were seen.

In this case, deliberately puncturing a flexible joint in their own livesuit and judiciously directing the jets of escaping air to steer them to the relative safety of the rest of the ship. Which was, considering everything that had just happened, in remarkably good condition.

The aft had been sliced cleanly through. Human Steve, holding tight to Phri’aabl, was aiming them towards one of the intact internal airlocks.

This was the exact reason why plasma stream weaponry had been banned. Very little stopped it, especially not the target. The shot that sliced the ship in twain could have been fired centuries ago, and was sailing onwards with its original vector undisturbed. They would have to report it to specialised teams so they could clean it up.

Teams aboard the ship had scrambled, some firing grapples at the drifting aft, others scooping up crew who had auto-deploying livesuits. Those who did not had already been fielded by the ships’ micrometeor and debris defense systems. Casualty lists would be happening much later.

Phri’aabl opened the comms to Human Steve. “How are your air levels?”

“Good enough,” said the Ships’ Human. “Don’t worry. I’ve seen this done before.”

It was only once they were inside, and Steve removed his helmet that the truth came out. He waited until AFTER the medical team reassured the Ambassador’s health and wellbeing before cheering, “It worked! It really worked!”

“Pardon? You said that you had seen your trick performed before.”

“I have,” said Steve. “On an entertainment file from the archives. The physics was sound and livesuits have improved since the era of making… and it’s my job to see you safe, so… I did what I had to.”

“You bet your life on something from fiction?” Phri’aabl was very glad of her medication. “How old WAS it?”

“Um… seventy-something years before the Terran Expansion?”

Humans. They needed warning signs posted on them.

Swiss Army Shuttle Thruster (Forsaken Universe)
By Alex Nightingale (aka Spectre)

“This is your idea of a replacement stove?” Michael asked, indicating the thruster they had scavenged from a broken shuttle.

“Unless you have a better idea,” Morae replied, trying to navigate the tools, more numerous than the volcanoes on her home world and that was saying something.

“Well… no, but shuttle thrusters don’t exactly have a ‘simmer’ setting.”

“Oh, don’t be a wuss,” she pointed at the tools. “Now, would you help me please? I only did the minimum engineering requirements.”

“That explains, why you’re trying to use a Type 6 screwdriver on a Type 4 screw.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you? No, no, no. Let me…”

“I got this!”

“No, don’t use your finger. Do you even know what a tool is?”

“I’m talking to one.”

“Funny. Now, let me.”

“You just… Keep focused on the fuel dispenser.”

As she said that, a flame erupted from the thruster.

“Michael! Careful!”

“I made a miscalculation! Just give me a second!”

“What are you…? NO! Michael, don’t use water! That’s burning fat!”

“Sorry! I… forgot.”

“Forgot? Michael, we are trying to improvise a stove, not incinerate you and mildly inconvenience me.”

“Mildly inconvenience?”

“I’m a ceran. I’m fireproof. Or… well, to an extent. At least, it takes a lot more heat than this to even lightly scorch me. Would you please put the water away? You’re making me nervous.”

“I thought you were fireproof.”

“Yes, but you are not. Besides, neither are these clothes. And I don’t think the rest of the crew would forgive us, if we incinerated the kitchen.”

“True. We don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“I thought, last time the issue was that we showered the kitchen in ice water.”

“All the more reason not to do the same thing again with fire.”

Morae couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What now?” she asked.

“This,” Michael began to fidget with the engine. “Good thing we installed the regulator, before we set this thing on fire.”

The fire indeed died down, to both of their surprises.

“Huh,” Morae remarked. “First time for everything, I guess.”