#OpeningSentence

The smuggler held the bullet between thumb and forefinger, studying it in the weak light of the store room.

— Retribution Falls by Chris Wooding

Somewhere in Jal’s file was a note from an old crewmate that read, Jalsen Red will either be the reason you die, or the reason you live. Good fucking luck.

— Cascade Failure by L. M. Sagas

Standing next to his step box, Baxter hovers: immobile and elastic, ready to spring forward to lift a suitcase, dissect a timetable, point to the conductor, nod, lift more suitcases, now hat boxes, answer more questions, and nod, nod, nod.

— The Sleeping Car Porter by Suzette Mayr

On activation each morning Charles’ first duty was to check his master’s travel arrangements for the day.

— Service Model by Adrian Tchaikovsky

What do you do when you meet an alien in Central Park?

— Exordia by Seth Dickinson

The moment Fetter is born, Mother-of-Glory pins his shadow to the earth with a large brass nail and tears it from him.

— The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera

A man was loitering outside the bookshop.

— Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop by Hwang Bo-reum, Shanna Tan

Anything at the mercy of such a divine female must, to them, necessarily be a man.

— Steelflower at Sea (The Steelflower Chronicles) by Lilith Saintcrow

The fat-sailed high-prowed Taryam’ajak of Antai bit salt swells, singing of rigging and canvas strained by pressure, bound for home across the wide blue desert of the Lan’ai.

— Steelflower at Sea (The Steelflower Chronicles) by Lilith Saintcrow

I woke from a fuzzy trance with my mead-filled head ringing and four Hain Guards seeking to separate said head from my shoulders.

— Steelflower by Lilith Saintcrow

Nobody ever believed murders “just happened” around Mallory Viridian.

— Station Eternity by Mur Lafferty

This is going to be a bad job.

— David Mogo by Suyi Davies Okungbowa

The walls of the estate emerged from the morning fog before me, long and dark and rounded like the skin of some beached sea creature.

— The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett

In the early sun-swept hours of the morning, when purples and pinks smeared across the sky like blood, Firuz-e Jafari looked for a job.

— The Bruising of Qilwa by Naseem Jamnia

Humans often say that they are made of stardust.

— The Old Goat and the Alien by Veo Corva