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.



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