It had been an ice storm, followed by a thaw and a freeze. Deja set him to clear the gutters, miserable, useless work, since he had to pry ice off grime and stone, and since the weather link said another thaw was due the next day. Martin didn’t mind. It kept him out of the house, away from Deja and his temper. Also, apart from the cold and the wet ( Read more... )

The next morning, he couldn’t get up. Every muscle had seized, locked stiff with pain, and he burned with fever. He knew the fever was partly from the ‘tropes, which ran him on overdrive when they kicked into repair mode. He knew it meant he was healing. That knowledge didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

Kistur, dressing, came to stand over ( Read more... )

Kistur did stay. He slept below stairs, spending his days in the stable, coming in only for meals. He didn’t speak to Martin; just dealt with the horses, and helped Pia manage the boiler, which, as it developed, took some managing. “He says he stayed because you gave him shit about taking care of the horses,” Pia told Martin.

“I gave him shit. Not ( Read more... )

He and Deja had been back to Strauss Estate a half a dozen times over the years since they had gone up to Durbin, but they hadn’t stayed at the Estate House - when they came, it was to camp in the mountains, or to stay at the lodge at the lake. Deja’s rooms had been kept just as they had been left. Martin moved through the suite, unpacking their ( Read more... )

Harper was working on a post for the Republic Society of Science page. The editors wanted revisions, which work had Harper in a furious, delighted, evil mood. And meanwhile, he had Martin doing most of his work.

Oh, he gave his lectures. But Martin built his boards, found his captures, took all his labs and tutorials; Martin evaluated student ( Read more... )

The noise of the sea wind was enormous, like the roar of shuttle engines battering his ears. Sun burned the rock beneath him, burned his bare shoulders and back. It felt good. He felt good. For the first time in a long while, he felt safe, his knees against his chest, the stone beneath him, the day open before him. He had knocked a fragment of ( Read more... )

Over on the gazebo, the university orchestra screeched through some elaborate arrangement. Everyone said holder music was awful. Which it didn’t matter to Martin: holder or cot, all music made him ill. Shoulders hunched, he got out of range of the racket as quickly as possible.

Above, clouds puffed into immense blossoms in the bright spring air; ( Read more... )

Crossed Genres is proud to officially release RJ Astruc’s novel A Festival of Skeletons!


( Read more... )

The next day he was in the archives, working his way through an expense log kept by an in-system freighter that had hauled, among other things, contract miners among the asteroid mines, when he heard Fen at the gate.

Fen had no legitimate right to access. To enter the archives, you had to be trained in handling ancient documents. Fen had training ( Read more... )

Chapter 8 (the first half) of Kelly Jennings’ novel Broken Slate is now on the website! (It’s such a long chapter we had to split it in two!)

This tense, invigorating novel shows the origin of Martin Eduardo, a “contract” who must battle not only societal discrimination and oppression, but also the indoctrinated restrictions within his own heart ( Read more... )