Amahle bit xyr lip as xe peered over the edge of the balcony.
Station manager’d brought in bruisers, big ones, to hunt xem out. Not just Amahle but also Dana and the kids that’d survive his slaughter.
They couldn’t face down those guns. Or the people carrying them. Claws and Scales out in the lead was death stalking prey. The two women behind him carried guns bigger’n Amahle. And the little one in synth leather behind them? That one was more dangerous still.
Xe signaled everyone to pull back but it was already too late. Amahle ran. If xe could just get away there might be a chance. Except that maybe, just maybe, the bruisers were the chance they’d all been waiting for since this began.
The Mother of Ransom is a SF short story that nonbinary and queer people are sure to love even after the adrenaline fades.
