Jennifer Wells - Beyond the Stars - At Galaxy's Edge

If I’d actually been dead, that is.

Gravely wounded as I was, I still managed to grab my weapon from the floor next to me and point it at her. She sensed it, just as I was ready to shoot. Her surprised expression momentarily morphed into that seductive gaze that had conned me for weeks. I almost couldn’t do it.

But I squeezed the trigger. The blast went clean through her middle breast. Dammit, that was my favorite one, too. She dropped to the floor immediately. As the blood pooled under her body, I managed to drag myself along the floor to be near her. Our blood was mingling together, my red and her blue, as our lives had briefly done up until that point.

“Was it worth it?” I asked.

“It... would have... been...” she replied, with a great deal of effort.

“I take it none of it was real?” I had a hard time getting it out, but I’m sure that was just due to my injuries.

“The pasta was good.” The slightest smile. Then the lights went out in her stunning violet eyes, and she was done.

For some reason the hole in my gut was also causing my eyes to leak. Not sure what the connection was there.

I returned to Earth as soon as I was recovered enough to fly there, and with the help of a Tranrian vorpal blade, six electrocell crystals, and some duct tape, I soon had Hank telling me everything. Actually, he was ready to talk as soon as I walked into his office, but I needed to release some of my frustration on someone.

I want to say I let Hank live after he spilled the truth along with the contents of his stomach. But we don’t always get what we want.

Not only had Xiomara not stolen his money, she had paid him to play the part and to hire me to put everything in motion. That was her plan. Get me on her side, then hire the rest of the best to come after us so we’d all take each other down. Which would have left her as the new Numero Uno. Instead, she just put a bigger distance between me and whoever was the new Number Two.

She was never a trophy wife at all. She was just another bounty hunter.

What made you decide to write this type of story?

I’ve had an idea for a space opera story about a bounty hunter anti-hero kicking around in my head for quite some time now, but I was busy writing other stories and screenplays. After working mostly on my YA superhero series recently, I felt like I needed to do something a little racier, more adult, with a humorous tone. When I saw the call for submissions for this anthology (I really enjoyed the previous two), it prompted me to finally sit down to write it. I had a really good time working on it.

Why a bounty hunter?

People seem to like the whole idea of bounty hunters (including me), especially in science fiction. I mean, Boba Fett hardly does anything in the Star Wars films, and he’s one of the most popular characters. There’s kind of automatically a certain element of danger and badass-ness to them.

I take it you’re a Star Wars fan?

Most definitely. At the age of nine, I read the novelization before the film even came out. Then the movie blew my mind. I had already been a Star Trek fan since I was even younger, but watching that story on the big screen was a life-changing event for me. I was even in the documentary The People vs. George Lucas , which is about Star Wars fans.

What projects are you currently working on?

At the moment, I’m finishing up the second part of the Red Raptor Files, which is my YA superhero series. The first book was called Sidekick , and the second will be Super-Team . I also have stories appearing in a couple of other anthologies right now: The Legacy Fleet anthology set in Nick Webb’s universe, and Capes & Clockwork 2 , which has my second story about my steampunk superhero, Agent Eagle.

How can readers keep up with your writing and follow you?

I have a page on Facebook, a Twitter account (@valinchris), and a website, christophervalin.com. And, of course, there’s always my author page on Amazon at Amazon/ChristopherJValin.

Christopher J. Valin is a writer, artist, teacher and historian living in the Los Angeles area with his wife and two children. He has written stories of all kinds since childhood, including novels, short stories, comic books, and screenplays. In 2009, his biography of his 5x great-grandfather, Fortune’s Favorite: Sir Charles Douglas and the Breaking of the Line , was published by Fireship Press. In addition to writing and inking for independent comic book companies and writing screenplays for production companies, Christopher has had numerous short stories published in anthologies such as Capes & Clockwork: Superheroes in the Age of Steam and Doomed: Tales of the Last Days .

YULIA WAS DEAD. Gone were the rolling green hills and the steep cliffs overlooking the black ocean, the blue mountains that turned purple at night, and the deep craters that in the warm season filled with crimson blossoms.

Zakahryans, the locals called them‌—‌pools of blood.

Their name was no longer a metaphor.

Ashes rained on Hyleesh’s military uniform, gently tapping on his helmet. He wiped them off the visor and stared at the red sky, the distant sun a pale disk obfuscated by smoke.

Thick, yellow mist draped the horizon, heavy with the stench of death. Waves silently lapped at the skeleton of a collapsed wharf. Bodies knotted with kelp rolled along the tideline, forming one long cordon of rotten flesh.

Everything on Yulia was dead. Not even flies came out to feast on the cadavers.

A dull, persistent ringing filled the air, as though the voices of the millions that had died on Yulia had joined in one relentless cry.

The city of Sunan had been the last to fall. The plasma artillery the locals had hidden deep in the forest had done very little against the Yaxees’ PPBs‌—‌pulse propulsion bombs. Wrapped in a thin shell of titanium and suspended in a perfectly spherical magnetic field, one microgram of Quarium had vaporized the whole city in a matter of seconds.

It had taken less than 48 hours and nineteen PPBs to wipe out the whole planet. One week later, flames still marred the crests and pinnacles of the mountain peaks, and black plumes of smoke drifted off the cliffs and over the ocean.

Sunan had crumbled to dust. The holes of cracked open buildings gaped into nothingness, torn steel cables strummed in the breeze.

Hyleesh’s boots left deep prints in the dry soil. His heart was heavy, yet his soul empty. He’d come searching for survivors but he’d found none.

Yulia wasn’t his planet, the dead weren’t his people.

So why was he here?

A deep, low rumble resonated from the north side of the shore. Hyleesh squeezed his weapon and gaped at the trail of dust and black smoke rising in the distance. The rumble grew closer until it became the distinct roar of half a dozen SATVs‌—‌special armored tactical vehicles.

They’re here.

The realization that he wasn’t alone on this stranded planet left him strangely indifferent. He poised his weapon, planted his boots, and stared at the wreckage of Sunan as the wake of black smoke grew bigger.

Five-foot tall tires tore through the collapsed structure of the wharf, squashing bloated bodies and digging out sand as they propelled forward. Hyleesh counted five fully armed vehicles and three mosquitos‌—‌small, air-land tanks that came equipped with all-terrain crawler legs and rotor blades for rapid take off. A sixth SATV lagged behind. It was much larger‌—‌a twenty seater at least, Hyleesh reckoned, and, unlike its tan companions, this one was completely black.