![]() ![]() Civility landed on the trash heap the day she’d glimpsed the enemy’s fragile skin and savage gaze through a burning cockpit glass. Do it. She jerked the disk free, and her head swam. She wanted to stuff the yellow billiards ball up somebody’s ideological ass.Įarth needed a home for its remnant…and the secret lives yet to come. The feather-light disk weighed the heft of a man’s soul. If she used it, she may not find her way back. If she used the technology, she could win. While a nurse filled Zippo’s dusty leather with forget-all-about-it-juice, she fiddled with the silver disk at her throat. Tomorrow, the weather wizards predicted clear skies. If she’d lost the game, Hipshot’s pilots would have wrenched off his boot and filled it with white lightning for her guzzling pleasure. Instead, it was hers the team pried off for him–the one she’d tramped about in all day, deciding do we fly or not? Beyond the thick wads, electrified sugar lit up the black. “To our leader, General Zippo,” Hipshot said, and the company shouted hear him. She wanted to win all the nights to come-the game, the war-and never play either again underneath a sky hung with clouds like thick, oil-stained wads. Her teammates cheered, kissed their talismans of tiny carved fists, and broke through the defeated airmen to whisk her to the place of honor, the makeshift bar. Zippo’s yellow ball sank the pocket, and Hipshot’s team of pilots howled. With tomorrow’s mission, she might save the remnant of human population from extinction, if she dared. Neither was she a war virgin she knew her duty. She was no crud novice and wouldn’t give the ref a reason to cry foul. ![]() She bird-dogged the gold smear’s trajectory to the corner pocket, and when Hipshot nailed her with his signature body check, she didn’t lift her boot from the sand. It smashed through the field of striped balls with a force minuscule in proportion to that which their galactic adversaries had smashed the Earth. Zippo clutched a yellow billiards ball in her fingertips, hitched up a knee, and zinged the ball across the stretch of green, felt-lined table.
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