Thanks, Fye!

"Thank you all for coming." Senator Rich Crook smiled through his false teeth at the crowds of reporters stuffed into the press room. He wore an immaculate suit. His dark hair was seasoned with just a touch of its actual gray, arranged by professionals to make him look every inch like a competent politician.

"I've called you here today to make a formal announcement." He settled himself at the podium, placing his hands on each side of the flimsy stand, "The senatorial committee for governmental transparency, of which I am the chair, has decided by unanimous vote, that it is in the governments best interests to stop wasting time and money hiding our obvious and well-known corruption. From now on, we will do whatever we like without consequences, as usual, but we'll no longer pretend that we're not."

He flashed his smile for the cameras and raised his hand in a stoic, yet friendly wave, "Any questions?"

Like chickens when the feed tube opens, a dozen heads bobbed up and squawked. The Senator pointed to the loudest of the bunch.

"Cash Clickbait here, Weekly Whiner. What will this mean for the upcoming vote on social security?"

"Great question." The Senator leaned forward, "Under this new ruling, we can freely admit that we've completely gutted social security to pay for private jets, summer mansions, and a very elite, hidden resort that only the ultra-rich have access to. I'd like to praise the public for their generous trust in the program and to give them my personal thanks for all their contributions. Next question,uhhh, yes, you."

"I. D. Seller, from This-Newspaper-Is-Brought-To-You-By-GEICO-GEICO-You-Can't-Escape." The young man paused to catch his breath, "How will this affect the next senatorial race? With this new transparency system, aren't you afraid of senate seats being lost, or even replaced by independents?"

"No." Senator Crook shook his head, "Due to the Each Vote Matters bill that passed last year, it's impossible for votes to actually matter. With unfair gerrymandering and the strategic removal of voting locations, we can secure every senate seat until military medical technology can no longer keep us alive. Now you, miss?"

"Unpaid Intern, Doom and Gloom Gazette." The young woman squeaked, "Um, uh, how will this affect, uh... the economy?"

The senator gave her a reassuring smile, "The Economy, as you know, is simply a measure of how quickly the upper class harvests money from the uneducated public. Thanks to ineffective financial regulation, the economy will continue to grow until we bleed the country dry. Then the upper class will use insider information to bail on the market right before the crash."

More hands went up and more squawking chickens clamored for a sound byte, but the senator just held up his hands and waved, "Sorry. That is all the time I have for today. It's just passed sundown and I have to fly to Hawaii for a senatorial ethics committee which is just golf and wine tasting. Thank you all, goodnight!"

Aw, thanks, Kat!

Thanks, Fye! Super helpful!

The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life, or so the humans say. When Byra first heard this, she'd discarded the notion. She'd travelled through the triple rings of Peticect-9 and glimpsed the diamond storms along their edges. She'd cast her ship into the rainbow clouds of the Neetan, sampled the star song of Agria-B, stood upon the tallest of the ever-precipice in Keri-Kan-Kena!

Yet all of it paled under a handful of sand.

Earthlings had tried many times to impress her. Yet it was this, this 'beach' that had gilded her soul. She'd been here for hours, digging her soft, scaled claws into the salt-washed soil and lifting up immeasurable beauty. Her escorts, handlers, translators, and whatever else the crowd of humans around her were for, had all grown bored and drifted away. Byra stayed. She stayed because her eyes, keener than a human's, could see the true nature of each handful.

The galaxy is a billion stars, all boiling pots of atomic fire, all swirling with their own patterns, their own songs sung with energy. Before today she thought they were the most beautiful array in all the world. Yet now, here, on this foreign world with foreign people... she found something to eclipse it all.

She dipped her claws in once more and pulled forth another galaxy, marveling at the spectacle of light and color as each grain, each miniscule piece showed a pattern, a swirl, an iridescent gleam of life, death, science, and art. Each handful was new, each grain different, each one a new piece of a greater pattern. It was like holding the perfection of imperfection a thousand times over, every grain astounding in its own right.

Humans, earth, this world... awash with wonder, wonders they ignore with every step. They held astounding beauty at their feet and still they grow bored. She tore her attention away and looked at the crowd around her. humans checking devices, making noises to each other, rubbing their soft, small claws against red, peeling skin. Yet not a single one could see.

How cruel their evolution that they are denied these treasures; how harsh their ignorance, how ravenous their inattention. Byra would shed such sorrow for them when she left.

If she left.

If such incredible things lay so simply in the dirt under their feet, what other treasures could this earth planet hold? Byra had walked this ground for the merest sliver of time, stood in the tiniest dot upon their continents. What could she find in their vast oceans? What could she wonder at in their forests and lakes? If a million jewels can sparkle in her hands, what can shine across the mountains, or the skies?

She stood up, letting the sand trickle and stream from her claws, lifting her head to stare at the earth-bound sky, wondering what wonder might break way her when next the sun rises.

Alec checked the calendar on his terminal for the third time this shift. It still told him the same story. Six days until he could call home. Six days until he could see his wife again. Six days until he could stroke his crooked fingers on the cold, glass monitor and tell her that he loved her.

"We have incoming."

Alec closed the calendar and shot a look at his shift partner. Cynthia's face was round and flushed from the effects of null gravity, yet it still showed her concern. A drop of sweat beaded on her brow before slowly drifting away toward the nearest ventilation intake.

"We don't have an arrival scheduled today." Alec pulled up the month's flight plans, "We shouldn't-"

"It's there." Cynthia said, "Confirmed ping on something large, Pendelton-Class or larger. Profile isn't registering. Wait... we're getting a comm request."

Alec pulled up the proper menu and punched accept before Cynthia could dither over it. She was always a ditherer. She actually fit this do-nothing, decide-nothing life of an outer-Neptune fuel depot.

"Station ONFD-Polar 7, this is Captain Heymark of the Grand Return, to whom am I speaking?"

Alec punched his comm response key with a bit more force than was necessary, "Grand Return, you are performing an unscheduled arrival and WILL be fined for it. Please transmit your IonaCorp security code now to begin docking sequence."

"Negative, Station." Captain Heymark's voice shuddered with static over the line, "Grand Return is not a IonaCorp vessel."

"The fucking shit!" Cynthia shrieked and threw her headset down, "Pirates! It's bloody pirates! Arm the defenses!"

Alec bit his lip, fingers hovering over the command line for an armed response, but he keyed the comms first.

"Captain, this is an IonaCorp station. If you are not an IonaCorp indentured vessel, then we must ask you to alter your trajectory and move on."

Silence held the air for a moment, punctuated only by Cynthia's soft cursing, and the occasional burst of static from the empty line.

"Station, how long has it been?"

"...What?"

"Since you've seen your family? How long since you've been paid a proper amount?" Captain Heymark breathed on his microphone, producing a burst of static, "How long since you saw a doctor? Had a calcium transfer? Have your bones started to warp yet? Are your fingers and toes curling in?"

Alec shook as he looked at his hands.

"Grand Return has a full medical bay prepared to treat you. We also have an Earthcom transmitter onboard."

"Bullshit!" Cynthia screamed over the line, "Pirate's lies!"

"No lies. Pirates wouldn't come this far out. Nobody comes this far out."

Cynthia paused.

"Then who would?"

"In a word... revolutionaries. We want something better for the workers of the great dark."

Alec tapped his hands on the side of his keyboard, mind weighing on the calendar, his hands, the size of the ship on radar profile.

"Grand Return... You are cleared to dock."

Congratz to all the winners! Well done!

Congratz, Duke! It's been so much fun having you in our community!

Three adventurers trudged out of the woods. Mud-splattered and caked in an assortment of different, but disgusting, layers of slime, they somehow managed to convey they had a bigger problem than their looming laundry challenges.

"We don't have to do this." The rogue was saying, her topknot of brown hair sticking straight up do to a lingering electric charge, "We could just, you know..."

"What?" The armored giant rumbled, "What, Kelsie? Say it. You can't, can you? Because you don't have the heart. So shut up, buck up, and do this."

Kelsie turned away to wipe a long strand of blueberry filling off of her collar.

"Please don't shout, Tark." The robed mage said from behind.

"Brackramos, say one more thing and I'm gonna snap that magic staff of yours in half."

The rest of the stomping to the house was done in silence, each person leaving a different lingering smell and a trail of various viscosities in their wake. Steps were climbed, deep breaths were taken, lingering doubts clouded about and punched through as Tark's hand rose and knocked upon the cottage door.

It swung open immediately, revealing the red and puffy face of a young girl.

"You're back!" She squealed, then lost the glimmer of excitement in her voice with her next words, "Did... did you find her?"

Tark, Kelsie, and Brackramos shared a look.

"Look, Nell...Uh..." Tark began.

"The thing is.... um." Kelsie looked aside.

"We have completed your 'quest,' as it is." Brackramos said in a peppy tone, "However, when we began our chase of your pet Lilyfluff, we had a bit of a setback."

"Set...back?"

"Yeah." Tark noisily cleared his throat until a small frog jumped out of his mouth, "See, yer little Lilyfluff, she... ran away from us."

"She did that to me too!" Nell stomped her foot, "She's a bad kitty!"

"No kidding." Kelsie snorted.

"Thing is, she, uh, she ran into the magical swamp." Tark said.

Nell's eyes went wide.

"And then she climbed inside a thunder tree..." Kelsie groaned.

"Don't forget the changing mist!" Brackramos added, "That was really fun, with all the charged energy from the-"

"Shut up, Brack." The others said together.

"Look, kiddo." Kelsie knelt down and sighed, "What we're trying to say is... your little kitty, she ain't a kitty no more."

"L...Lily....Lilyfluff is dead?"

"Well, no..."

Nell threw her head back and wailed, "Lilllllllyyyyyyyy!"

From the trees there came a rustle, then a thunder, as a monster the size of a house leapt out of the darkness. It had scorpion tails and bear claws, feathered wings, and a cute, little, pink nose. It pounced up to the cottage, swatting the adventurers aside so it could bend down and nuzzle the little girl.

"Lily?" Came a started squeal, "Lily! OH my! You're big now! Who's the best kitty? Lily! Lily! Lily!"

From under a massive paw came a moan, a whimper, and a tiny voice saying: "We're not getting paid for this, are we?"

Thanks, Restser! Very helpful!

"Linda? Linda? Liiiinda?"

Linda pulled her bifocals down just enough to pinch the bridge of her nose. She knew that warbling, tittering call. It was her neighbor, Mrs. Briggleham. Judging by the strength of the call and the movement of its tone as it closed in, Linda surmised that the old woman was approaching from the front door.

"Linda, dear, are you in?" Three knocks on the old wood, "Linda?"

"In the kitchen!"

There was a huff, and a shamble, and the sound not unlike a distant bellows working a furnace, then Mrs. Briggleham waddled in the back door. She squeezed through, panting and holding a hand to her chest. It was exactly sixty-one steps from her house to Linda's. The journey winded her each time.

"I have news!" The old woman trumpeted.

For all her feelings about her neighbor, Linda appreciated the visits. Nothing ever happened anymore. Nothing except more doctors and more medications. The kids didn't call, the husband was dead, and she was allergic to everything but the cleanest of goldfish. Life had petered out for her.

She closed her crossword, "Grab us a drink then tell us all about it."

Mrs. Briggleham nodded and waddled over to the cabinet. She knew where to find the bottle, the cups, and the corkscrew. She thumped them down on the red, plastic tablecloth, then collapsed into the chair opposite Linda.

"It's about Old Frank Curman."

Linda pulled a face, "Then I doubt I want to hear it."

"No, no, my girl. Listen, listen." Mrs. Briggleham performed the cork-popping ritual with practiced ease, "You remember how he sent all them angry letters to the nice couple down the lane? All because they had one of those yippy dogs?"

"Of course I remember." Linda took the bottle and poured for both of them, "Frank Curman is a bitter, nasty, stupid old bully. He was after me last year over my sunflowers. Kept screamin' about how they were 'too tall' and 'unsightly.' What sense is there in that? Flowers being unsightly? They're flowers, fer christsake! Ridiculous."

Mrs. Briggleham smiled over her cup, sipped and said, "Oh, and don't forget the whole affair with the parked car. You remember? The- Oh, what was their name? Family with the beanpole teens?"

"The Hadleys."

"Right, right. The one son saved for months to buy that car, then has the misfortune of parking it in front of Frank's house. Old turtle had the thing towed! No warning!"

"Heard the impound fine cost more than then the whole car," Linda said.

"Bastard."

They drank.

"Right bastard." Linda nodded, trying to remember where the conversation had started from, "You said you had news?"

"Oh, yes. I did. Frank passed last Sunday: heart attack."

"Well!" Linda stared down at her glass, shook her head and announced, "I think that deserves a better bottle! Fetch the champagne, dear. I'll break out the good crystal."

Thanks, Astro!

The snow fell in wispy, fluffy clumps like little cotton balls. It piled up on the bare branches of the trees, outlining everything in pristine white.

Lacie watched it all from the kitchen window. This was her favorite time of year. There was something empowering about being inside while it snowed. Sitting in the warm, with a blanket over her legs, Lacie wished for the one thing that would make this perfect.

"Hot cocoa!" Grace plopped down on the other side of the kitchen table with two plates.

One was just a saucer with a steaming cup cradled in its ring. It was pushed over with care. The other, however, was a mystery. Its size and shape were unknown as it was trapped inside a tomato-stained tupperware container.

"What's that?" She pointed.

"Wouldn't you like to know!"

Grace was Lacie's younger sister. Gracie and Lacie: their parents had thought it was funny. They both shared the same dark eyes, narrow nose, and that cleft in the chin that looks so much better on their father. Lacie knew she looked much older now. Her skin didn't glow like Grace's, her hair was frizzled and split. She could never keep a haircut for long since going out to get one was so much trouble in her condition. She just kept it all wrapped up in a messy bun.

"You and your secrets." Lacie lifted the hot cocoa in both hands, trying her best to keep them steady, "Thanks."

"It's hazelnut." Grace said, "One of those little flavor packet things. I'm no pro, but at least I didn't burn the water."

Smiles crossed the table, but soon fell away. The cup was placed back on the saucer and the snow spun in the wind outside. A clump of fattened flakes hit the window, blurring for a moment, then melting away.

"Dad would have liked this." Lacie ran a thumb along the searing side of the cup, right over where it proclaimed her to be 'Cocoa Crazy!'

"And mom wouldn't be bothered. She'd be storming in and out of the house, slamming doors, shouting, going out to church or auctions or whatever, stomping those boots all over."

"The boots!" Lacie had forgotten about them. They'd been huge, green, rubber things that never matched whatever else she had on, "They were so..."

"Hideous."

"So hideous."

Lacie rubber her thighs with her now-warmed hands. Her legs couldn't feel the warmth, or the pressure, but she'd been told it did her good. The muscles were still there, even if they weren't talking to the rest of her.

Time passed, snow fell, and the cocoa slowly vanished. She stared down into the blackened clumps at the bottom of the cup and sighed.

"All done?" Grace asked.

The cup and saucer were passed over as an answer.

"Time to reveal the mystery!" Grace pushed the tupperware container over, "Guess what's inside."

"Leftovers?"

"Nope." The top was popped off, and nestled inside was another cup and saucer, "More cocoa!"