“Must we do this again, Barnhardt?” the Dark Lord said, “And in front of my daughter too? Tell me, who’s the real monster here?”

“You have taken everything from me, Parnith.” Barnhardt said. He fired spell after spell at the Dark Lord, but he deflected them with ease. “What’s it all for?”

“For?” said the Dark Lord, deflecting another spell. “Why does it have to be ‘for’ anything? It simply amuses me that you think you can hurt me.”

“Oh, I can,” whispered Barnhardt. Parnith’s eyes opened wide, as he realised he had deflected each spell toward his precious girl.

Author’s Note: For when you’re so busy thinking about yourself, you stop noticing the people around you.

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“I don’t get it, Tim. Top-level clearance, two years’ training, intensive psych profiles and an eight year journey from Earth, and you’re doing what? Catering?”

Tim scratched his stubbled chin and flipped the burger on the grill. “What’s to get? Folk gotta eat. Don’t matter the planet.”

“I guess,” Darly muttered. “But wouldn’t you rather be doing something else? Spacewalks? Cartography? Robotics?”

Tim shrugged, and placed the burger on her plate. He watched her as she took a bite, as her eyes lit up and she gasped with pleasure.

His hand brushed the bio-sample jar in his pocket. “You’re welcome.”

Author’s Note: We always seem to focus on the space adventurers – but someone’s got to do the cooking and take out the bins, right?

Categories: Fiction, Jonathon Dean | 1 Comment »