While it was a truism throughout most of known space that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, it was equally true as far as the Corps was concerned that the shortest distance...
Which means, he continued, removing his arm and turning to the CSO, you won’t freeze or asphyxiate before they blow you up.
What are you on, Samuel?This was easier, he glanced down. Laminate.
Well? Shylin fell into step beside him as Sibley came out into the passage. How long? Would you believe eight inches? No. As big as a baby’s arm? Sib. Chief says it’ll be done when it’s done.
Lieutenant Commander Sibley added a few final flourishes as he brought the Jade up to cruising speed. If you have to hurl, Staff Sargent, bite the black tab at the base of your faceplate. It'll open a...
I’m repairing alien tech with a sleeve, Gunny. Torin glanced down at her cuff. So, ten? Fifteen? Fifteen.
It’s always Mardi Gras somewhere.
It is a great blow to the ego, Sssergeant, to dissscover that you are, after all, not unique. He looked up, his tongue flickering. I am, however, mossstly recovered.
Isn't that just like a man. 450-fucking-years-old and he's still thinking with his balls!
If anyone asked, they were home schooling Jack, which had the added benefit of being the truth, even if lessons tended toward it’s a bus, you can’t fight it rather than algebra.
I'm sorry.About what?He shrugged, made uncomfortable by the question.I'm not sure. It's a Canadian thing.
I will shove my fist so far down your fucking throat that you'll be shitting my fingernails for a week.
Fitzroy, what is this shit? Henry, please, not Fitzroy.
Experience had taught her that an enthusiastic officer was a bad thing; an enthusiastic idiot in a captain’s uniform was a
Charlie considered showing up in time for dinner to be quite domestic enough, thanks very much.
You expecting a collapse, Gunny? The technical sergeant is repairing alien technology with a piece of torn uniform—I’m expected the Goddamned tunnel to blow up. Ressk’s helping. Mike’s voice sounded m...
You are here. Torin would have bet her pension that the graffiti scrawled next to it in a script she didn’t recognize said, And your luggage is in Antares, or a variation thereof.
Torin had never been a great believer in luck, preferring to trust in training, preparation, and strong artillery support, but it was impossible to deny the good fortune that had caused them to crash...
The aunties can make Game of Thrones look like Dora the Explorer, but that’s not the point.
She wants me, he said conversationally to the crewman who’d arrived in time to hear the parting remark. The crewman stared at him for a moment and then burst out laughing.