Thanks Nikky for starting this. I'm in! I need to do an edit of my sci-fi novel "The Galactic Retrieval Agent." Have great notes to guide the edit. Just gotta get er done. First draft came in at 91K. I'm determined to keep it under 95K. It's the old, if something goes into the closet, something's gotta come out.
It's been awesome reading all your goals, blurbs and logines. Here's mine.
Logline:
A shady new assignment has Galactic Retrieval Agent Bronwyn Ash digging through ancient conspiracies, family dramas, and investigating the first murder in three generations. This is just the kind of crap that could ruin a perfect retrieval rating.
Blurb:
Three hundred years ago humanity suffered The Great Eviction. The Digital Intelligence Collective (aka DIC) made super-smart space ships and prepared a planet for habitat across the galaxy. Then piled everyone on Earth into the ships and blasted them into space. DIC’s last message read, “Never darken Earth’s doorstep again. Or else.”
Whoosh forward ten generations to present day, 2358. Good came from our eviction. Violence faded in favour of venerating and perpetuating life. It’s been a century since the government had to shoot a blood-thirsty evil-doer into the bulge of the Black Hole. Non-violent crime, however, persisted because some people will always be shit magnets.
Which is where us agents come in. The Galactic Retrieval Agency is a respected service up for hire. We retrieve stolen, misplaced, or otherwise absconded people, treasures, or sentimental trash with as little fuss as possible. I’m Bronwyn Ash, Galactic Retrieval Agent. My AI dog Link and I always sniff it out, scoop it up, and deliver it fresh.
Almost always. There was this one gig… landed me in a mess of conspiracies, freaky crystals, and my beloved missing twin at the centre of it all. Plus, and this pains me to no end, a murder. An actual fucking murder right in front of me. First in three generations. When a cunning stranger suggested we team up to save my twin, catch the killer, and retrieve my package, a skeptic might have refused. Me? I’ve always been an optimist.
Funny how a simple gig can turn ugly, and one bad decision can change the course of history.