Doc Sherwood
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The Green Butterfly, Chapter Three
Silently but for a rustle of reeds swooped a shape which occupied most of the dell, not descending but rising from where the roots were, so that in an instant what head it had was upreared against the luminous looming clouds of blue-black. Most of this monstrosity however was wing, and these aurora-sheets were spectral and lurid in the gloom, ephemeral fans sweeping sickly chartreuse as though they were a nearer and more menacing sky. The tableau was like something straight out of an entomologist’s nightmare – a butterfly-predator bearing down on a little beige-coated aphid, while a brave boy-bee in black and yellow put himself before her.
By Doc Sherwoodabout a month ago in Chapters
The Green Butterfly, Chapter Two
It was apparently afternoon on this overgrown world, and a sky which had been dazzling when the duo dropped in was starting to shade. Nor was this solely down to the onset of evening, for Flashbee’s senses had also detected a weather-system moving in. Thus with two more good reasons to find shelter, he and 4-H-N hiked doughtily, taking few rest-stops and ever alert to the twitches and flicks from the former’s brow.
By Doc Sherwoodabout a month ago in Chapters
The Green Butterfly, Chapter One
4-H-N and Flashbee were ferrying six drums of nitrite glycogomia across a tricky stretch of space which required continual course-corrections. This was the sort of task Flashbee was good at – too good to really need a neophyte assistant, as 4-H-N had discovered well within the first hour. By the second, Flashbee had suggested she might assist him best by quitting fidgeting and being quiet. Now it was the third, and 4-H-N having hit full recline on the co-pilot’s chair was outstretched upon it, groaning aloud and smelling.
By Doc Sherwoodabout a month ago in Chapters
Girls in Gear, Chapter Two
Splitsville hit a straight and pinned the pursuers in her rear-view. These cats weren’t flying Alliance colours. Some were daubed, others painted black, and there were wilder custom-jobs besides. Maybe she’d been hanging too long at the Heart-Throb’s Film Club, because it looked to her like all they needed was a foxtail or two.
By Doc Sherwoodabout a month ago in Chapters
Girls in Gear, Chapter One
Third cycle initiated Monitoring... Metaphysical imbalance detected. Compensating... Mini-Flash Splitsville didn’t dig the resemblance between Rio Grande and Daddy-O, so to her the absence of the former’s hat wasn’t anything to get in and wail about. Nutrient-bath green was vivid but did the big drop points-wise when it came to his hair, dark jungle swirls which gently rolled and lifted round a face whose viridian dots were spaced wide. We were talking Lichtenstein city, but he was peaceful as well as pale, sleeping as he’d done after the first time. Something else Splitsville could never feature about those lineaments was their Johnny Angel meets Dreamy Eyes scene. A one-way ticket from the Tablet to where her square sisters Petunia and Sonica did their swinging thing. Strictly forty-five RPM.
By Doc Sherwoodabout a month ago in Chapters
On Intelligentsor Day, Chapter Three
If Intelligentsor was formidable in two dimensions, he had nothing on Auntie Green’s very real three. Counting her elaborate iron-hued bouffant she was twice the height of anyone else there, all of whom by now were mimicking the stillest of the cardboard likenesses. Abaft the Mini-Flash matron’s stiff-starched emerald bosom, one fist characteristically closed and unclosed about the business-end of a carbon-shafted birch.
By Doc Sherwoodabout a month ago in Chapters
On Intelligentsor Day, Chapter Two
“You’ve got a nerve.” 4-H-N hadn’t meant to start on that point. But she’d seen him onstage as she and Mini-Flash Meteor snuck through the stands, and there had been the Drenthis feeling. It was as reliable as a gastric ulcer.
By Doc Sherwoodabout a month ago in Chapters
On Intelligentsor Day, Chapter One
The distress-signal device had worked. 4-H-N was safely home, while Alliance salvage-teams remained busy shipping equipment from Phoenix Prime’s lab to that of Professor Grindo, in hopes of determining what the former had been working on at Nebula Seven. Her large and loyal and surprisingly mobile security-lodge had gone to Grindotron too, as had her robotic replica of Petunia to undergo recharge and repair.
By Doc Sherwoodabout a month ago in Chapters
Noisy Running, Chapter Three
As the luminous boxlike forcefield-cage blinked out of existence, Phoenix was given reason to doubt everything the galaxy said about Moltron’s quickness. His slopping transformation to an innocuous slick made lightning-bolts look ponderous. It seemed however to be Phoenix’s day for brief impressions, because no sooner had she taken note of this than twisted nature white in tooth and claw was scrabbling at her throat.
By Doc Sherwoodabout a month ago in Chapters
Noisy Running, Chapter Two
It took more than a bumpy ride to deter Dylan’s faction. No sooner were dented doors still than they were thrown or kicked open, and the Alliance’s finest were beating feet towards the oblong of architecture shadowing these alleys. He and she both had calculated fuel reserves without consultation or even much recognition they were doing it, and their light-fingered friend had had every reason to aim where he’d done. He wasn’t going to leave Target Harbour without completing that operation first. They had time. Not much, but they had it.
By Doc Sherwoodabout a month ago in Chapters
