Past Imperfect by Martin M. Clark
I tuned back in as Director Hobson came to the end of his welcome for the new interns. I’d heard his spiel numerous times before – he liked to have me there as an example of how agents could...
Waste Not by Martin M. Clark
“You know they call us body-snatchers?”
I flicked my gaze to the rear-view mirror then back to the street ahead. I hadn’t driven for Elaine Grey before but it was obvious she needed...
Just Peachy by Martin M. Clark
“Be cool, man, everything is just… peachy.” Harry Hale sank back into a drug-and-booze torpor.
Peachy? Not with a dead teenage girl lying on the floor of his hotel suite. Harry was the...
Insert by Martin M. Clark
The doors closed with a whine of servos and that heavy clunk particular to armour plate. My visitor was a man of medium height with a friendly, open face, seemingly devoid of guile. He...
Morte Ex Machina by Martin M. Clark
“Are you by nature a religious man, Technician Brandt?”
I looked up from my diagnostics pad at the anthropomorphic bust of Leon Hurst, former CEO of Temple Pharmaceuticals. “Religious,...
Leeway by Martin M. Clark
“Please take a seat, McMaster.”
I sat across the desk from Director Haining, unbuttoning my jacket so that the Glock didn’t snag on the lining. The only source of illumination in his...
Sidestep by Martin M. Clark
“The simulation is complete. Creation of an artificial singularity is deemed viable. Do you wish to repeat the simulation?”
I sat back, frowning at the screen. A phone began ringing in the...
Stage Fright by Martin M. Clark
“My name is Vigo Hanesh and I’m a conjurer.”
The auditorium reeked of late-afternoon apathy and crushed egos. Everyone – the production team, stage security, the three judges – looked...