Hugh J. O'Donnell

“The targets are secured,” The helmsman said.
“Excellent, we have many questions for these Earthlings, and these are high value targets!”
“Are you sure, sir?”
“Of course! Look how much land these beings are given! Earthlings equate high status to land ownership, and thus beings that live on the largest plots of land are the most important!
Informational broadcasts give their opinions more weight. Their political system favors states with more space and lower populations. These two beings were the largest in the vicinity. Therefore, they will give us the most valuable information!”
“Mooo?” The cow licked the alien’s face.

Gemma woke up to find herself both shrunken down, and trapped inside the grasshopper tank. She reached two conclusions that she had no way of testing.
One, her shrinking formula was a success, and two, somebody wanted her out of the way. She didn’t know which of her lab assistants had done it, but she guessed Dan. He seemed the most ambitious, and the least scrupulous of the crew.
He’d probably meant for the grasshoppers to devour her, but she was a scientist, and quickly made two breakthroughs: The insects were surprisingly easy to domesticate, and made for good eating.

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“Are you sure you can handle everything while I’m gone?” The cherub asked.
“Please, I am a seraph,” the taller angel said.
“But it’s the busy season…”
“Go, Have a good trip.”
Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, the cherub put on his coat and hat and fluttered out of the office.
The six-winged woman examined the tools on the cherub’s desk. The bow and heart-shaped arrows looked like they would break in her hands. Instead, she took her flaming spear from the rack by the door.
She was really going to show the world some love.

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“This was your father’s Plasma Sword. He wanted you to become a Space Cavalier, like he was. But your Uncle thought it was too dangerous.” The old man gave the boy the weapon, and with a push of a button, the blade was sheathed in crackling energy. He swung the it a few times, experimentally.
“Well, lets get started,” the old man said, readying his own weapon. “We’ll start with some light sparring.”
“What, with live blades?”
“Of course. That is the way of our order.”
“How did my father really die?” The boy asked.
“Training accident,” the hermit said.

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