Posts Tagged ‘Dominick Rabrun’

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Escape Pod 903: Bishop’s Opening (Part 4 of 4)

Bishop’s Opening was originally published in Clarkesworld Magazine, January 2022.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 47:02 — 65.1MB)

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Bishop’s Opening (Part 4 of 4)

By R.S.A. Garcia

The attendants set little bowls shaped like flower petals in front Sebastian and Olly. Steam drifted upward, redolent of fresh herbs and a hint of lime. Bits of white flesh speckled with green seasonings, and rolled dumplings floated in a golden broth.

“You must be hungry by now,” Sticky said. “I made this fresh earlier today. But of course, you know that. I dropped an entire pot–”

“This is mom’s fish broth, isn’t it?” Olly said in a low voice, staring at the delicate transparent bowl.

“Her favourite,” Sticky’s voice was gentle and Sebastian’s heart pinched at the melded love and loss in his expression. “The Bishop has a fondness for it as well. I make it often for him.”

“Why do you call him the Bishop? Isn’t Bishop his name?” Sebastian asked. (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 902: Bishop’s Opening (Part 3 of 4)

Bishop’s Opening was originally published in Clarkesworld Magazine, January 2022.

Includes graphic violence and torture.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 45:57 — 63.6MB)

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Bishop’s Opening (Part 3 of 4)

By R.S.A. Garcia

(Continued from Part 2…)

The Pawn was seated at the table with arms outstretched along its surface. Metal restraints held their forearms and wrists immobile. They had been stripped naked and their mask removed. Their neck and torso were fastened to the chair, which was bolted to the floor.

Bishop took the clear plastic robe Second Rook held out to him and wrapped it around himself. He strolled to the other end of the rectangular table, which had deep grooves around its edges. Sitting, he placed his left ankle on his right knee, gripping it lightly with his fingers.

The two Rooks stood on either side of the door as he studied the Pawn. Studied the even rise and fall of their pale brown chest and the smooth, emotionless face with its dark, angry eyes.

He gave himself time to bring his focus back to the task before him, instead of the swirl of conflicting emotions he’d left in the cabin, along with the most beautiful man he’d ever seen.

“No lies,” Bishop said. “Or there will be consequences. Unlike some, I keep my word.” (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 901: Bishop’s Opening (Part 2 of 4)

Bishop’s Opening was originally published in Clarkesworld Magazine, January 2022.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 44:15 — 61.2MB)

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Bishop’s Opening (Part 2 of 4)

By R.S.A. Garcia

(Continued from Part 1…)

Bishop was alone in the Grandmaster’s Penthouse suite when the call came from the Kingston. Once it was over and his Grandmaster’s virtual form had dissipated, Bishop cursed under his breath.

The Grandmaster Valencia’s ship had failed to jump to the nearest Arbor after leaving Consortium space because of another instance of miscalculation by the Coretrees. There had been minor errors before, on Valencia. He’d heard of an incident several tempi ago, when a Sept vineyard transition deposited travellers at the wrong Sept. But this was far more serious. This time, a mistake had left the Valencia’s flagship stranded half a galaxy from their planned destination.

Whatever had caused the error, the crew no longer trusted the ship’s quantum exchange would work accurately. As a result, the Grandmasters had chosen the long, slow flight to another Arbor. From there, they would transition to their Septhold vineyards safely, and allow the ship to be inspected and repaired.

But that meant his Grandmaster would not arrive in time for the meeting. He expected Bishop to handle it instead. Bishop did not look forward to the task of soothing the Bartica’s temper once he realised the Kingston was not in attendance. (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 900: Bishop’s Opening (Part 1 of 4)

Bishop’s Opening was originally published in Clarkesworld Magazine, January 2022.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 40:43 — 56.4MB)

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Bishop’s Opening (Part 1 of 4)

By R.S.A. Garcia

Old as she was, the Kiskadee had done three full delivery runs without a single safety incident. So naturally, with the crew relaxed after a fourth successful delivery and launch, and eight cycles after Reece slingshotted the starship around Tavaco to head back to the Roost and their next job, their luck ran out.

Sebastian was in the middle of his daily workout when the shrill bark of the fire alarm brought him to a halt.

“Where’s that coming from?” he shouted as he hurried to unbuckle himself from the treadmill’s harness with sweaty hands. Officially, he was the newest crewmember, two years into a three-year contract and designated as a cargo handler. The alarm meant the ‘other duties as assigned’ part of his contract was about to kick in.

“Ventilation shafts ten and eleven,” Reece replied in his ear.

Sebastian was shoving his feet into his mag boots when the pilot added, “Origin point–Oxygen unit four.” (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 789: The Machine That Would Rewild Humanity

The Machine That Would Rewild Humanity originally appeared in Escape Pod: The Science Fiction Anthology (2020).

Isolated cursing and suggestion of violence.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 28:39 — 39.8MB)

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The Machine That Would Rewild Humanity

By Tobias S. Buckell

On a boat on the way to the Galapagos Islands to visit the world’s oldest tortoise, I got a call that the Central Park Human Reintroduction Center had been bombed.

I’d read somewhere that the point of travel was to see the thing yourself. To expose yourself to new points of view and to have new experiences. Before the call I’d spent two point seven seconds regarding the sweep of the Himalayas at the roof of the world and take a backup of my memory of the entire panorama. In Pattaya, I lounged at the beach and watched the aquamarine water lap the sand.

Ten years I’d planned this trip. A time to let my thoughts settle before the big push on the Central Park project.

My life’s work.

A mechanical butterfly perched on my hand with the message. To deliver it, the butterfly had wafted its way over almost two thousand kilometers of ocean boundaries, negotiated with air currents for overflight permissions, and applied for fifty different visas until it tracked my boat down.

The Institute had paid a small fortune to recall me from vacation. (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 733: Relative Fortune

Relative Fortune was originally published in Galaxy’s Edge in October 2018.

Cursing.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 20:32 — 28.7MB)

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Show Notes

This is the third in a special series of space-themed stories in May 2020.

Relative Fortune

By Brian K. Lowe

When I was seventeen, class president, and a year from the Space Force Academy, Dad fell into an antique gun rack at work, dead from a stroke before he hit the floor.

I had been helping him in the pawn shop after school, partly to make some tuition money and partly because it looked good on my Academy application. After he died it was either take over the shop, or let Mom work it and my brother Rey raise himself while I ran off to the Academy. I opened up two hours after the funeral.

Every night, I’d sweep the floors, dust the shelves, double-lock the front door, and walk upstairs after a 12-hour day of trading in things that people had once thought they couldn’t live without, but now couldn’t live without selling.

But while I was scratching out a living buying and selling second-hand guitars, the real money was in things that had gone Out There. Tools, spacesuits, uniform patches… And when it came to interstellar travel, stuff that had been to another star… Years before I was born, the first guys to come back from Proxima Centauri had gotten rich selling their underwear. The best part was that, thanks to time dilation, they were still young. They’d been able to retire in their thirties. (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 722: His Stainless-Steel Heart

Escape Pod 722: His Stainless-Steel Heart is an Escape Pod original.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 48:27 — 67.0MB)

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His Stainless-Steel Heart

by Jeffery Reynolds

It was at the rest stop in Tali that Viktor ran into trouble. His fault, really. He’d been driving along all swoon, meditating in an isolationist haze that provided him a good feeling, kept his thoughts clear. Didn’t even have to get high, it was a natural vibe for a motoring king. The ancient Buick purred like an avalanche of love, eating the miles. Better outcome than a warmonger could hope for. The rest were all perished. Peacetime no peace for warriors.

Into the stop he pulled, needing a stretch and a piss, maybe a hit of Somnup or a sip of caffeine. There were only a couple of vehicles there, so he thought sweet, no one to bust in on my mood. Two drone trucks; a couple three sedans, all electric and shiny new; a lone RV — first one he’d seen in about six years to be fair, so that made it coolness, and it clearly guzzled rich diez. Getting so he didn’t see gassers any more, which was opaque for the lungs, but always a bit low on the sadness scale. Made that RV something special, sitting there all proud on its rubber soles.

He walked through the swinging glass doors, into the cool of interior dusk, with the hum of an old AC unit buzzing like a hive through the ducts overhead. And there she came, out of the facilities, a Valkyrie with bleached blonde mohawk and electric green irises from the finest graft shop, her right arm one big circuit board, bio-gened and soldered with immaculate chromium threads. Perfect teeth when she smiled. Preggers as all heck, like she carried twinsies. She had that thing preggers get. He remembered that glow they had.

Green eyes.

(Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 675: Man of Straw

Man of Straw was originally published in CICADA Magazine, March/April 2018.

Contains mature language.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 35:56 — 39.9MB)

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Man of Straw

By Russell Nichols

I pissed my PJs when I saw that scarecrow.

It was the middle of the night and everybody was knocked out. Marcus, my big brother who died the week before last, had his door cracked. I heard him snoring under the hum of the refrigerator. The carpet creaked under my feet as I stepped into the dark living room. I wanted to turn back, but I had to pee so bad and Mama told me Jesus didn’t shed blood for bed-wetters.

I never made it past the living room. Because that’s where I saw it: that stuffed body in our front yard, grinning at me through the window, face colored black, egg shells for eyes and straw sticking out the top of his head. My scream came out the wrong hole, wet and warm, streaming down my flannel Captain America pants.

I ran back to my room.

“The hell you doing?” asked my brother, Nick, on the top bunk. My adopted brother.

I was fumbling in pitch blackness, trying to change, trying not to think about what I saw, but couldn’t shake the image: that face, those eyes, the straw.

“N-nothing,” was all I could get out.

Nick reached down to cut on the light, catching me in my soaked boxers. “Damn, man, again? Marcus got you shook?”
(Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 596: The Wind You Touch When You Run

Escape Pod 596: The Wind You Touch When You Run is an Escape Pod original.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 38:31 — 52.9MB)

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The Wind You Touch When You Run

By James Beamon

This pursuit starts as they all start, going after the Underground Railroad. It will end as it always ends, with us feeding the Minotaur. The in-between is where I tell tales.

I wipe sweat from my eyes while my son Langston squints under the blue-white light of this alien sun, scanning the swollen green and purple foliage for signs of recent human passage. He points his machete at a fresh boot print obscured by dense undergrowth. We pick up pursuit, south. It reminds me of a little-known facet of my favorite story.

“The original Underground Railroad ran south to Spanish controlled Florida a lot longer than it ran north,” I tell Langston. “I’m talking more than two hundred years, going as far back as the fifteen hundreds, and lasting until well after the Revolution.”

“Unless your railroad story leads to Talya, I’m not interested, Saul.”

This is the nearest I’ve been to Langston in six years and I see he’s grown into a strong man. We’re shirtless because of the heat and his skin is beautifully black like a scarab’s shell, free of all the gashes and scars I’ve accumulated in the jungle. His dreadlocks are tied into a crude ponytail that hangs down the center of his back. Intensity burns in his eyes as he navigates the jungle.

“What you want is through the wilderness,” I tell him. “She’s three hours ahead of us, which could put her ten miles out or ten feet depending on what she’s run into out there. Either way, we can catch her before nightfall.”

(Continue Reading…)

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