IOM #40

Dan Lazar -- pronounced “laser,” unless you wanted bellyful of plasma -- kicked the still-warm tentacle of the dead Reacher.

“Looks like the Griffs got here ahead of us.”

“No shit,” his second in command yelled over the thundering helicopter blades. Even a raw cadet knew you always left the engine running in Reacher territory.

Lazar sniffed. Ammonia. And wintergreen. The telltale odors of a proton scatter beam. “Moonbeam,” the grunts called it, because of the silvery discharge. Another snazzy weapon the Griffins seem to invent as regularly as humans churned out porn vids.

Probably why they were winning the Genocide.

ohhh...awful, yet compelling.


Sam said...

I love sci-fi.

Anonymous said...