nervous smuggler
bounty heavy on head
cargo: himself
By DJ Tyrer
remote colony
growing crops with simple tools
dreams of smuggler’s wealth
By Aeronwy Dafies
Scum
By Cardinal Cox
I mean, it was bad enough when they let them live in the slums round the space port but I saw one looking at the dome that’s for sale down the belt. I’ve nothing against carbon-based life forms in general but these are oxygen breathers – they’ll want it pumped into all the zones rather than them wearing their helmets. And their skeletons are on the inside and their brains are at the top and they’ve only got the two eyes and you just can’t tell them apart. And they call their home world Earth even though its surface is mostly water and they drink water and they don’t have roots!
And where would they get the credits to buy a nice dome like that? Selling drugs, I bet – potatoes probably.
I mean would you let one combot with one of you grimknurdles.
here on the frontier
galactic law has no reach
rule is: might makes right
By DS Davidson
No Atmosphere
By DJ Tyrer
Remote asteroid base
Home to miners, way-station for smugglers
Various malcontents, rebels, criminals on the lam
New arrival in sealed armour
Moves unobtrusively through vacc-suited crowds
Visits sleaziest bar on the rock
(Jokes about the lack of atmosphere
Long since grown stale, but still made)
Says nothing of why they are there
Just sits, inconspicuous, in a dark corner
(One of many)
Observes the clientele, helmet-puter comparing
Each face, human and alien, with the ones on file
Till, at last, it registers an alert
They leave their seat, approach target
Alert declares: Dead or Alive
(Dead is so much easier), opens fire
Smuggler’s expression envisages shock
A brief moment of excitement, murmurs
Then, the patrons go back to their drinks
Studiously unconcerned, not wanting trouble
Fine with them, all they want is the bounty
Al Capone’s Clone
By Mark Hudson
There were some criminals far away,
in a galaxy that mirrored the U.S.A.
The criminals were bootleggers,
they liked to throw parties-keggers.
They liked their hero, Al Capone,
so they created his clone.
They wanted him as the mastermind,
so a robotic clone was designed.
On a planet where liquor was illegal,
they were free as the American Eagle.
They carried sub-machine lasers,
which cut Martians flesh like razors.
On Valentine’s Day, they had a massacre,
and Al the Clone was the ambassador.
He convinced the intergalactic police,
he was mechanical, oiled with grease.
Then he went to jail, and got syphilis,
since he was robotic, it was ridiculous.
Just another clone that was horny,
singing love songs that were corny.
He composed love songs on his guitar,
in this galaxy, wishing on a star.
A fellow prisoner murdered the clone,
and that was the end of Al Capone.
But the gang didn’t let that hold them back,
this time they started selling crack.
Much more convenient to fit in your pocket,
they made enough money to buy a rocket.
They were the gang that didn’t give a dang,
not one of them ever had to hang.
Making clones was the thing they did,
up next, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid!
Data
By DS Davidson
Most valuable commodity
In the entire universe
Traded here on this icy, godforsaken world
More valuable than slaves
Or world-killing weapons
Data: Secrets supposedly concealed
Knowledge someone wants kept hidden
And which others wish revealed
Stolen and brought here at great risk
Worth gambling with your life
Secrets
By DJ Tyrer
You shapeshift to human form, least likely to attract attention, ubiquitous throughout Empire and Federation. Here on this world, where anything is available for a price, you’ll trade what you have for what you need.
Past slave pits and robot chop-shops to where the info-brokers can be found. A secret to sell, one sought in return, all whilst evading bounty hunters who know your name.
You give them a bargain: valuable current information in exchange for esoterica. Knowing the plans for the Emperor’s new wardrobe, they can invest appropriately, whilst you can visit the remains of lost Old Earth. Home.
Ends
worst of all humans
where aliens eat people
sell humans wholesale
By DS Davidson
View From Atlantis 