Excerpt: Mars-Earth War (working title)

"Large ice coffee, two sugars, no cream." Gregory Stratham swiped his ident card as he ordered. The girl smiled her fake practiced smile.

"Anything else with your order?"

"No." He found a table and sat. He liked this place -- Anna's House o' Joe -- because they didn't make you swipe your card every five seconds; the bigger, more popular shop closer to his house asked for your card at the door, when you payed, and when you sat. Paranoid corporate crap.

The doors slammed open just as the girl delivered his coffee, and spilled it onto his lap.

"Shit, these are new pants! What the hell!" He looked up at her, expecting a free coffee or an offer to buy him new pants and at the very least an apology, but she wasn't looking at him.

The air filled with smoke, too sudden for fire. He breathed in and couldn't see. He collapsed, coughing and crying, holding his stomach to keep from heaving his breakfast. People were screaming. Someone was shouting orders to stay down, a cop or maybe a soldier, he had that deep authoritative voice they must get training for, and Stratham was hauled up and his arms were wrenched behind his back and his hands were cuffed. He tried to tell them he hadn't done anything, but he couldn't string a sentence together. His knees gave out and he was dragged somewhere, lifted again, moving. The smoke was clearing from his lungs and he could make out shapes, other people, shifting and crying. He realized the ringing in his ears was actually the faint hum of a hovercar.