by Garrett W. Vance | Oct 16, 2012 |
Chapter Sixty-five: The Butterfly Effect Northeast Mauritius, Dutch Refugee Camp Pam awoke in a nest deep in the meadow, naked, a warm, masculine arm draped over her shoulder. She blinked for a moment or two, trying to remember just how she had ended up here, then...
by Kristine Kathryn Rusch | Oct 16, 2012 |
In 1997, I retired from editing. After ten years of editing short fiction first for Pulphouse, and then for The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, I had had enough. I stopped editing to focus on my writing career. I stopped for a variety of reasons. Mostly, I...
by Iver P. Cooper | Oct 14, 2012 |
Buoyancy-Differential Propulsion Solomon Andrews was the first person to propel a manned airship without an engine, by exploiting the action of a net buoyant force on an inclined airship. Andrews built and flew two such craft. The first (Aereon I) had three hulls, and...
by Jack Carroll | Oct 12, 2012 |
Brussels 1637 “Noted, Your Majesties. Next on the budget agenda is an item from the marine desk to begin work on precise charts of the approaches to the principal ports for the benefit of the proposed deeper vessels.” The queen silently pointed to the fine...
by Amanda Forrest | Oct 11, 2012 |
The infant was made of paper, the gray-white sheaves that wasps spin for nests. Rachel found her between the toes of the old oak tree that stood in the yard. Thistledown covered the baby’s head, and when Rachel lifted her from the earth, tissue-thin lids...
by Bradley Sinor | Oct 8, 2012 |
Elizabeth “Betsy” Springer came awake with a gasp. She could barely breathe! The last thing she remembered was the coachman’s yell and the way the world tilted as the carriage slipped off of the road. Then . . . nothing. I must have died, I know it!...
by Kerryn Offord | Oct 8, 2012 |
“I’m from the government and I’m here to help.” The phrase was enough to raise panic in any rational businessman, and Georg Schrapel was nothing if not rational. He hastily dropped the file he’d been reading into a drawer and shut it....
by Rainer Prem | Oct 7, 2012 |
Chapter 5: One Night in Grantville On the Road from Eisenach, Near Grantville April 3, 1634 Ingrid Wasasdottir took sidelong looks at the weird woman, Maximiliane von Pasqualini, as they approached Grantville. They'd been on the move since dawn. The road was...
by Robert E. Waters | Oct 6, 2012 |
“Our memories are the only paradise from which we can never be expelled.” —Jean Paul Richter, German Novelist PART 1 September, 1636, Grantville What is my name? He sat on his porch, sipping tea, trying to remember. It was late summer, and he knew where he...
