PHOENIX PUBLISHING HOUSE

LA

2019


'…but Matty-'

Jack's publisher put her hands on her hips and shot him the look that her nickname was surely derived from.

'No buts, Dalton! Put on your big boy pants and get over it!'

They had a staring contest for a long moment.

As usual, Jack blinked first.

(One day, he was going to learn her secret. Maybe it was super-special eye-drops made by the CIA.)

He sighed and got up.

He was a best-selling author. He did not need some fancy-schmancy science consultant looking over his latest work, even if it was his first foray into sci-fi and science was, well, not his strong point.

It was called science-fiction for a reason!


ONE MONTH LATER


'…it's science-fiction, man! Fiction!'

To punctuate that, Jack crossed his arms stubbornly and glared at his science consultant, a JPL engineer named Angus MacGyver who had handed Jack back a red-covered manuscript.

MacGyver looked utterly astounded, flinging his hands up in an exasperated, long-suffering, frustrated manner.

'Science-fiction, as a genre, is well-known for, at its best, its grounding in science-fact, and at minimum, lip-service to reality and plausibility!' He gestured at the manuscript. 'You don't even have that! Your protagonist breaks the First Law of Thermodynamics within the first hundred pages!'

'So?'

Jack was actually starting to enjoy this. He might have just met him, but he was definitely going to enjoy winding up this guy.

Idly, he wondered if he could make MacGyver tear his very thick, luxuriant and definitely-not-thinning-or-greying hair out.

(Jack was not jealous.)

'It's the First Law of Thermodynamics!'

He said it was if that explained everything, which to him, it probably did.

Jack waved a hand in a pshaw gesture, hiding his smirk.

'Eh, thermite-dynamite, whatever. Who cares?'

The look on MacGyver's face was absolutely priceless.


AN: With thanks to RobinP.