Monthly Archives: December 2015

3-12: Coming Home

“Let’s see if we can get to the Venturess and patch her up. I hate this stinking ship.”

“I’ll plot us a course,” the Bartender said, heading up to the cockpit, “You rest.” He glared at her.

“Fine,” she sighed, aware of the ache that seemed to envelop her body. “Is there anyway to lay down on this wreck?”

“Scorch, take care of her. Don’t let her try to do anything.”

She waited until he was out of sight to stick her tongue at him.

“Captain?”

She looked at Scorch. “Oh, nothing.” She went off find somewhere moderately comfortable to lay down.

*  * *

She woke with a start, sitting bolt upright as the ship jostled. She rubbed her eyes, or tried to. She still forgot about the implant every time she woke. She stood and climbed to the cockpit, anxious as to what she’d find.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Captain.” the Bartender sat calmly at the controls.

“What’s going on?”

“We are docked with the Venturess. I was about to wake you.”

“Oh.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah… just woke suddenly, I guess. It’s been a day.”

The Bartender chuckled, a raspy noise in his throat. “That it has. Shall we go over and see what we can see?”

She nodded, leaning forward to try to catch a glimpse of her ship, anchored to the bottom of the Dead Corps ship.

Moments later, they were aboard the Venturess, poking around amidst debris and evidence of the violence aboard.

“You said it was bad, Captain, but this…” Scorch trailed off. “At least four hull breaches, plus the whole bay door.”

She nodded soberly as the Bartender came up from below. “Life support is shot. We could probably pull the central unit from the Dead Corps ship, but it’s useless until we seal the hull. Did you find what is wrong with the engines?”

“They fried the motivators. They’re welded in there now, we have to replace the whole drive lines.”

“Well, on the bright side, we know where we can salvage ship parts.”

“Or get eaten.”

“We could buy them,” Scorch chimed in.

“Do we get enough of a discount from your family to be able to afford them? We have most of the Fuesllia job payment left, but that’s about it.”

“Not if we come back without delivering Miiram’s package.”

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3-11: Faults & Stars

Laurie sighed. “Let’s just take the one we know works and get the hell out of here.” She climbed aboard, wrinkling her nose at the stench from within. She climbed to the cockpit and slumped into the rust-colored pilots chair and began the takeoff procedure. Within moments, the clunky ship had climbed out of the atmosphere and away from the junk planet.

She stared out into space over the console in front of her, drifting in thought, only vaguely aware of the dull throb in her side. Her brooding meandered through the events of the past few days, the apparent interest in her the zealots of the Dead Corps had in her, and what to do next. The Dead Corps situation would have to be dealt with- somehow.

There was Miiram’s package to be delivered. The limited instructions he provided spoke to his need for discretion, as did his unwillingness to use the resources of the shipping guild.

And a promise to keep. She had grown up in the mines of Haluush, and the Foreman, Chip’s father, had known her all that time. If he needed her help, she owed him at least that one good deed.

Something coughed in the vent behind the console, a small cloud of green dust emerging. She gagged on the smell and stared daggers at the hull of the ship. The Venturess was still out there, derelict, in need of repairs. She had no desire to sail from port to port in the glorified wreck the Dead Corps used.

The Venturess was supposed to be her emancipation from the life that the Dead Corps condemned her for, and yet it was light years away.

She chewed her lip, weighing her options. The sun cleared the planet, wiping the stars from view as the viewport darkened in response. She reached out to the controls, and laid in their course.