After a brief hiatus, this one is short--less that 2,000 words--and probably not what you'd expect. Easy Money An Original Science Fiction story by Steven H. Newton (c) 2008; all rights reserved Dead Annie had just been Annie back when she got very hungry and down bad for a fix of viper one day, and Little Georgie showed her the ad. It was a good piece of webPaper—even had sound. The man with the tinny voice and the big smile said, “Need cash? Need it now? Make up to $250 an hour as a product tester. No experience necessary, no references needed. Just walk in. Sheridan Design Associates needs you! Bring in this ad in the next twenty-four hours and enjoy our free buffet!” The address was four blocks up from the park, in what Annie knew was a row of mostly boarded-up businesses. “I gave blood before,” she said. “Never heard of this. They really pay like that? Food, too?” Georgie had wall-eyes; she was never sure which one was looking at her. “Yeah, you eat and they pa...

Part One . Part Two . Part Three . War on the Cheap An Original Science Fiction Story by Steven H. Newton (c)2008; all rights reserved Gully Foy did not appear surprised by the announcement that Elbers had ruled out fire support. He blew fluid and dirt noisily out of both tubes in the endearing spasm known as the “snot-fart,” a Xinq reaction to bad news they could not do anything about. Ignoring the occasional mortar round (most of which missed Hill 49 by at least 100 meters), the squat Xinq walked Arras along Recon’s perimeter. “Gonks be dumb ‘nough walk straight up hill, hold ‘em here,” he said. “Trained some those tubeheads back when. Never got the idea ‘bout flank attacks.” Gully Foy had placed nine of Recon’s fourteen warm bodies into line. Two snipers were using the casualties’ power packs to harass Gonk officers and mortar teams; the rest were improving their fire-points. Mazir and Ully Nood had hauled up the Luitingh, which they were setting up to cover the most obviou...

Find Part One here ; Part Two here . War on the Cheap An Original Science Fiction Story by Steven H. Newton (c)2008; all rights reserved. Part Three of Four Khom’s original assault plan had envisioned a three-phase atmospheric insertion of the striker company via two assault shuttles. Recon, two squads from one of the line platoons, and a mini-battery of mortars would make the first drop, seizing Hill 49, which held a commanding overview of the Oyos complex. One and one-half line platoons and the remainder of Klatta Lor’s support platoon would cycle in two hours later, as Recon probed the Gonks’ automated defenses. Within six hours the last platoon of line puppies would drop in, and thirty minutes later—timed to coincide with a firefall of orbital shrap—the company would overrun the garrison. They never got to find out Elbers’ opinion of the plan, because Verk vetoed it on logistical grounds before anyone else ever saw it. “I know forty large Cert sounds like a lot of money to yo...

Find Part One here . War on the Cheap An Original Science Fiction story by Steven H. Newton (c)2008; all rights reserved Part Two of Four Standing behind her platoon sergeant, a particularly squat Xinq who never seemed to stop moving or hooting, Arras had to admit that whatever the tactical capabilities of the recon NCO might be, Gully Foy ka-damn sure knew how to intimidate the troops when necessary. An obviously exhausted Terran, last soldier in the platoon, had just reached the final pool of muck in the improvised obstacle course. Staggering under the weight of her pack and weapon, she threw herself down the lane by force of will alone. Instead of keeping almost totally immersed in the foul-smelling brew, she attempted to crawl across on hands and knees, which raised her ass high enough to trip the sensors. When two Xinqs committed the same error, Gully Foy had hauled them out of the pool and beaten them nearly senseless. Arras waited to see how he (she was reasonably sure tha...

War on the Cheap An Original Science Fiction Story by Steven H. Newton (c)2008; all rights reserved Part One of Four Everything shouldn’t seem the same when everything was about to change, Arras thought, exiting the shuttle. The sky had a familiar orange cast, the air stank from the tanneries. Attendants ignored the departing passengers, and Xinq taxi drivers squatted around a blanket to dice bones and gamble away their pay. “Damn them,” said a man struggling with a garment bag, suitcase, and two carry-ons. “They haven’t got the brains to see customers coming.” “They know we’re here all right,” said a thin man wearing the lapel pin of a retired major in the Xinquess Reach Armed Forces. “They don’t have to tote our bags until they pretend to see us.” “We don’t put up with behavior like that on Geffney. Our Xinqs either know their place or get shown it.” Arras crinkled her lips in a humorless half smile. Coarse black hair framed her face, cut for utility rather than style. Cr...