“Alison Alistair here and we’re live from—” I slapped my hand over the mic. “Cameraperson, where the fuck are we?”

  They shrugged.

  I uncovered the mic. “The CrayDent system, inside one of the universally famous Dent’s—your one-stop intergalactic shop. Soon, we’ll board a Dent ship to report from the frontlines of the Cray-Dent War. Cray, The Crossfit Wizard and Dent the Mimic—once partners, now enemies—have been fighting for centuries.”

  “Let’s find someone impacted by this war.”

  I scanned the store, mostly for baked goods.

  A Phontam snorted, gripping the leash of their snobble.

  “Hello, I’m Alison Alistair from Channel 13. Have you been affected by the Cray-Dent War?”

  “Who the fuck hasn’t?! Half of us took refuge on Pluto. The rest? Dodging ships, getting bitten by our own chairs—fucking mimics. Wizards everywhere blowing up everything in sight!”

  “Does anyone remember why the war started?”

  “Most assume a lover’s spat. They were together three thousand years.”

  “Three thousand years? I can’t get past two months.”

  A voice boomed from above. “Alison Alistair and… is that their name? Cameraperson—please report to the ship bay.”

  “Gotta go.” We switched off our equipment.

  “Shit, I need Eggos.”

  Dent’s is the only place to buy Eggos since the Sprite-Eggo war back home.

  Phontams ushered us onboard. Remembering the warning, I punched my seat.

  Cameraperson tasered theirs.

  “Chaos incoming, CP?”

  They snapped then clapped.

  “You’re right. We’re never lucky.”

  “Hallo, Miss Alistair, Ser Cameraperson. I’m Dunila Dent, your captain.”

  “Call me Alison.”

  “The honor is mine, Alison. Loved your Jack Jims coverage. Especially the kicking.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Cameraperson and I grinned.

  “How long’s the trip?”

  “About thirteen seconds.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re here.”

  Out the window: ships, mimics, body parts, and flying pro-wrestler wizards.

  “We’re back, from the front lines of the Cray-Dent War. Our Captain, Dunila Dent, is morphing into a badger and leaving the ship. If they die, do we make it back? Stay tuned.

  A mimic just turned into a sabertooth tiger and ate a wizard—who blew up the mimic from the inside! Velociraptors chasing supermodels firing sausages!”

  Cameraperson tapped my shoulder, hopped on a foot, and pointed at the window.

  “Wooly rhinos charging toward us?! Do you think they can break through—”

  Three rhinos crashed through the window. We braced. They halted.

  I turned to CP. “It's been an honor.”

  They nodded.

  I wiped my eyes. “Beautiful as always.”

  A rhino morphed into a human. Another became a duck. The third became a flagpole—and punched a hole through the roof.

  “Dentdamnit Robbie! Trilania is struggling to seal themselves now!”

  “The ship is a mimic?”

  “Yeah—Trilania. Legendary!”

  “And they’re protecting us?”

  “Not us. You two.”

  I pointed at the hole. “Can she protect us from them?”

  Outside a group of wizards hurled steel blocks at us, pounding the ship like a bass drum.

  “We’re still gonna die,” I groaned.

  “I’ll contact Lord Dent.”

  The mimic’s eyes rolled back.

  “That’s disconcerting,” I muttered.

  Cameraperson nodded.

  Forty-two seconds later, someone appeared.

  “Madame Alistair, big fan of your namesake. Ser Cameraperson, stoic as ever. Allow me to dispatch these sewermancers.”

  “Like hell you will,” a booming voice declared.

  “Oh for fucks sake. Cray. What’re you doing here?”

  “Saving my students.”

  “Students? They must be seven hundred years old?”

  “They’d be our students if you hadn’t broken my heart.”

  “Your heart? You ripped mine out and ate it, you no good fire-flinger!”

  “I knew you wouldn’t die; you have seven!”

  “You wanted me to starve after stealing my Eggo.”

  “It was the last one! I didn’t know you had dibs!”

  Cameraperson tilted their head toward my bag.

  “You’re a genius!”

  I walked over. “Master Cray, I’m Alison Alistair of Chan—”

  “I know who you are. Loved your work at Scottie’s birthday party."

  I blushed. “Thank you.”

  I handed Dent fifty boxes of Eggos.

  “I sell these, but I haven’t eaten one since...” Dent trailed off.

  Cray licked his lips. “I could go for an Eggo.”

  Dent turned, “I need a toaster. Flagpole, get out here.”

  We sat down, shared waffles, and nothing exploded.

  I could get used to diplomacy.

  Probably.

  The Reaper Wears a Scarf and River and the Bug. Please check them out.