This is (yet another, I know) a new project I'm starting to keep my writing hand in while I go about editing my novel into something fit to submit to an agent (for those who missed it, I completed a novel! Hurrah!). I'm writing partly because I want to write something while I edit, and also because I quite enjoy the novel's characters and want to write some more of them. So what this is is a prequel of sorts about Captain Julia Marthan and the crew of her ship, the Marco, detailing a week(ish) in their lives and one of the jobs they've run; I won't be touching on any of the major content of the novel, though they share the same characters and universe.
I'll be posting up brief chapters as rapidly as I can, so sit back and please enjoy.
Volatile Cargo
Chapter 1
As always, Blight was misty. White water vapour choked the world, floating moisture shrouding its single, damp colony of the hopelessly optimistic name of ‘Prospect’, a viscous airborne mucous of chill, low cloud loitering on the jetty of its dock. It got everywhere, soaking into clothes, caressing the skin with clammy tendrils, perspiration dripping into the eye even though the temperature left one with no inclination towards sweating.
“I hate this place,” Julia muttered, more to herself than anyone else. She flicked worthless jewels of moisture off the dark blue naval jacket she wore. The damp was making the already battered brocade on the smuggler’s coat look even worse for wear, and had soaked into the tricorn her she wore as well, a severe undermining of her attempt to look swashbuckling; as it was she merely looked wrung out. “Of all the worlds I’ve ever visited, it has to be the worst, no contest.”
“What about Zwarget, captain?” Yun asked. Unlike Julia, he seemed not to be bothered by the mist or the damp, his stance easy and relaxed with the long duster he wore seemed to keep out the worst of the weather. A hand rested on one of the revolvers on the gunbelt he wore, and the barrel of a carbine poked out from over his shoulder. From experience, Julia knew that there would be a pair of sawn-off shotguns at his up, covered by the coat, a knife at his boot and probably a holdout pistol or two tucked in some concealed pocket of the mercenary’s jacket.
“Nah, Zwarget just tried to kill us,” Julia said. “This place is depressing, thought.”
“So you prefer a homicidal planet to a dreary one?”
“Yeah. Homicidal’s more interesting, if nothing else.”
Yun just shook his head and scanned what they could see of the jetty for any approaching company. Behind them, the starship they came in on hovered, the Marco tethered to the large wooden pier with its cargo bay door resting on the flat surface. The large glass dome of the vessel’s prow and bridge was misted and slick with damp, as was the rest of the ship’s brass-coloured hull, the swallowtail sweep of its wings dripping with water as if the vessel itself were discomfited and sweating. The large zeppelin balloon that kept it suspended in midair sent the ropes connecting it to the ship creaking as a faint breeze blew into it and nudged it a few inches along.
“You’d have no idea that there’s a whole bloody colony at the end of that pier, not with all this mist,” Julia remarked.
“I don’t like it,” Yun said. “Makes things too quiet, too easy to hide in. Could be anybody out there watching us and we’d have no idea.”
“So you’re feeling edgy,” Julia nodded. “Nothing new there.”
“There is no need for alarm,” a third voice rumbled, this one coming from the fifteen foot, four-armed colossus of steel and brass that had stood behind the pair without speaking. “My sensors detect no untoward activity in the area around us.”
“In mist this thick, I wouldn’t like to rely on just sensors, Dravvit Klomar,” Yun replied. “Besides, they’re not infallible.”
“Pah, you doubt too easily, Mr Yun,” the immense Machtoro said. “Besides, captain, I can see someone coming on heat vision; two humans and khusi.”
A few moments later, four people emerged from the mist. Three of them were human; two bulky men lugging a crate between them, one tall, graceful and pale-skinned woman. The last was a khusi, carrying almost as many guns as Yun had, though it had enough arms to use them all at once, and its mandibles twitches as the multifaceted domes of its eyes looked them over. By the lack of egg-sacs clinging to its abdomen, Julia guessed the alien was still in the male phase of his life.
“So much for your sensors,” Yun muttered.
“Julia!” the woman at their front exclaimed in delight, stepping forward and grabbing her in an embrace. She placed a kiss on each of the captain’s cheeks. “How are you, my darling? And Mr Yun and your Machtoro are with you as well, how wonderful.”
Dravvit Klomar scraped the metal hoof of his foot along the jetty in displeasure at being called Julia’s, but Madam Sangue ignored the gesture. Yun merely nodded a greeting to her, knowing that any talking would be best left to his captain.
“I’m well,” Julia nodded. “Wondering how you put up with this world.”
“Oh, a number of reasons,” the new arrival replied. “It’s near some favourable Inverse currents, the League doesn’t hold any authority here and there’s a great deal of degenerates and curs here for me to employ. That and the lack of sunlight certainly helps.”
“Eh, suit yourself,” Julia said. “So, what did you want to see me about, Madam Sangue?”
“A delivery I want you to make,” she replied, gesturing to the crate. “I need you to bring this to a gentleman by the name of Mr Aloysius Cranmer in New Olympus. I don’t want it going through customs, and I don’t want the crate to be opened, tampered with or have its contents damaged.”
“A delivery to Mars, eh? Sounds simple enough,” Julia said as Madam Sangue’s two human lackeys advanced and placed the crate down on the damp planks of the dock. There was a whirring and thumping as Dravvit Klomar stepped forwards and picked it up with the lower pair of his hands, the huge machine lifting the load with ease. “Dravvit Klomar, get that aboard, stow it somewhere where it won’t be found easily.”
“It should be easy,” Madam Sangue replied. “But this is important, Julia, and I don’t want you failing this, not with the amount of money running on this job. After all, if you do...” she looped an amicable arm around the smuggler’s shoulders. “I’ll cut your throat and drain you dry, and that would be a terrible shame.”
“No pressure then,” Julia said. “I’m going to need more details than a name in New Olympus, though.”
“Of course, of course,” Madam Sangue nodded, handing Julia an envelope. “Everything you should need is in here. Read it carefully, Julia.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” the Marco’s captain replied. “One last question; what’s this job worth to me and my crew.”
“Provided all goes well, three thousand Sovereigns,” Madam Sangue said.
“Three thousand?!”
“I take it that that will be suitable motivation?”
“Gods, yes.”
“Wonderful. Remember, Julia,” Madam Sangue smiled, and her smile was a smile of frightening needles. “Don’t let me down. Everyone would be very upset if that happened, you most of all.”
“Trust me, I know,” Julia said.
“Just making sure, my darling, just making sure,” Madam Sangue said. “Now, there are three thousand Sovereigns waiting on that delivery, and perhaps a bonus if you make it quick, so why don’t you head off on your way, hmm?”
She kissed Julia on the cheeks once more.
“Best of luck, Julia, and do try your hardest to make sure you’re successful,” she said. “I’d hate it so very much if I had to kill you.”
“Not half as much as I would, trust me,” Julia said.
Madam Sangue laughed at this.
“I’m sure of that, darling,” she replied. “Now off you go.”
As Julia boarded her ship, Yun lingering a moment to untether the Marco from its dock, Madam Sangue left, accompanied by her henchmen into the mists and back to the colony that formed the capital of her galaxy-spanning criminal empire. The ship’s cargo door whirred shut, and its engines flared as it began to rise upwards and out of Blight’s atmosphere.
The Marco was on its way to Mars.
Full Version: Volatile Cargo - Original Sci-fi
Not bad. You'd better share the novel, or at least teh amazon link, when it's published. 
OK, I'm sitting back - if only to prevent my cheeks from getting kissed. 
New chapter time! Hurrah!
Rohirrim: You can be sure that I'll share some Amazon links, even if it's only so I can have some of your sweet, delicious money
Ghastley: Yeah, Madam Sangue is rather...European, isn't she?
Chapter 2
The gentle wave of uncolour and peering eyes broke over the domed prow of the Marco as the ship entered the Inverse, breaking out of the bounds of Matterspace. Julia blinked and grimaced at the discomfiting sight of the transition between her own universe to the ancient battlefield of the Reality War, her eyes struggling to perceive the sight of colours that existed outside of four-dimensional space. As it was, it appeared as a roiling sheen of milky blue from which occasional, bizarre shapes would half-emerge, groping or biting at the glass. She returned her attention back to the controls, not particularly concerned; Inverse Sprites were disquieting to look at, certainly, but they were harmless, and when she hullwalked in the Inverse she had suffered nothing worse than the occasional curious prod.
She adjusted control levers to nudge the Marco onto course, leaning back on her chair. She checked the course-indication instruments, making sure that the status readouts were all fine; that was habit more than anything else, ingrained in her from her old academy, and considering that Gorom, her engineer, were good at their job she really had nothing to worry about.
“Course check, Patterns,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to where the diminutive pyal was sitting in his chair.
There were a few moments as the Marco’s navigator checked their course, and from the empathic implication from See-Patterns-In-Stars she knew that the ship was indeed going in the right direction, and that it would arrive just outside of Mars’ gravity well in four days.
“Wonderful,” Julia nodded, pulling back a lever by the helm chair she sat on. It retracted back to the rest of the bridge, pulling out of the Marco’s domed front. She stood up on the foot of deckplate that was now before her, stepping around her chair.
“Bridge is yours, dear,” she said to Farko, giving the broad shoulder of her first mate, co-pilot and husband a squeeze. “I’m making some checks.”
“I’ll make sure nothing happens to the Marco in your absence,” he replied.
“That’s my man,” Julia said, swinging the door open with a creaking squeak of metal.
She set off, striding down the corridors of the Marco on her way to the cargo bay. Julia was the sort of person who could only stride; the sheer confidence and force of personality that she possessed meant that merely walking was impossible. Her boots had the habit of clanging against the deckplate, and she walked with a level of self assurance that left her as irresistible and unstoppable as a good-natured hurricane. Her height, striking features and the mane of brown hair that brushed her shoulder blades helped this further, and the overall impression that one got with Julia was of a woman who was imbued with an irrepressible abundance of sheer vitality
She stepped onto one of the ladders that allowed access to the Marco’s three decks, wedging her boots against the edges and sliding down. She stopped at deck two, pausing at the regular ringing noise that reverberated through the ship’s corridors, halting her descent and stepping out onto the corridor with a frown.
In the medical bay, the domain of the Marco’s resident physician Hans Rathskeller, the doctor was crouched before Ivris, the askriit sat on the examination table with a foot held out.
“What’s going on?” Julia asked, a farce of bafflement playing across her features.
“’E’o, capt’n,” Doctor Rathskeller managed to grunt, glancing around. There was a hammer in his hand, and nails were poking out from between his teeth.
“Arrit korzon, captain,” Ivris said, raising her head to bare her throat in her people’s traditional gesture of greeting and respect. “I’m re-shoeing, and Doctor Rathskeller was giving me a hand doing it; trying to shoe myself is never easy.”
She waggled her other foot to show the iron crescent on the bottom of her hoof.
“I see,” Julia said. “Wondering what that noise was.”
She frowned.
“Are you sure that Doctor Rathskeller’s the best person for this, Ivris?” she asked. “Wouldn’t you want a...a vet or something? Or a horse shoe specialist?”
“With all due respect, Captain,” Doctor Rathskeller said, removing the nails from his mouth so he could speak properly. “The health and wellbeing of the crew is my responsibility. Ivris may not be sick, but if her shoe was left in for too long then there will be complications, so as her physician it’s my duty to assist her in changing it. And it’s farrier, by the way”
“Besides, he’s done this before,” Ivris said, the askriit shrugging her thin, bony shoulders. “I’ve walked him through it and he knows what he’s doing.”
“I’ll leave you two to it, then,” Julia shrugged. “Carry on, doctor.”
“Indeed I shall,” Doctor Rathskeller said. “Now, where were we?”
Julia headed off back to the ladder, detour completed with her satisfied curiosity. There were a number of people who would have considered Doctor Rathskeller a strange choice for a ship’s doctor, what with him having been dead three hundred years, but Julia looked at it differently; that was three centuries of medical experience under his (very tight) belt, and a near-endless supply of entertaining anecdotes to go with it. It was true that he was now just a skeleton held together with strands of barely-visible vital energy, but he knew what he was doing and had been just about everywhere in the galaxy. Julia also found the idea of a doctor who received a reminder on basic anatomy every time they looked in the mirror to be an incredibly reassuring one.
Ivris, on the other hand, had not been picked for the ship’s crew out of need but had instead joined up partly by her own initiative. She was certainly useful, even if she held no particular position aboard the Marco beyond the general odd jobs that any working starship needed doing, though her position as a Kiazor, a rank of her people that was somewhere between a diplomat and a lawyer, gave her expertise that had come in useful more than once. The fact that she had come with Dravvit Klomar certainly helped; the huge machine served as her bodyguard and was fanatically loyal to her, not to mention he was good for heavy lifting and looking intimidating.
Her boots thumped against the deckplate at the bottom of the ladder, and she made her way to engineering. As she pushed open the door, the familiar scents of grease and hot metal assailing her nostrils, one of Gorom’s eye symbiotes turned around from where it was examining the engine, a free arm organism of the q’relli waving a greeting to her as she enter. Moved by their dozen arms, Gorom clambered away like a brawny blue spider, the gestalt of multiple self-aware body parts facing their captain.
“Captain,” the mouth organism that spoke for the collective said. “What can we do for you?”
“Just checking in,” Julia said. “You were saying something about the Gravitic Generator needing checking up, and I was wondering if it was all alright.”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Gorom replied, glancing over to the whirling blue ball of energy contained inside a cage of delicate brass wires that hummed with arcane energy. “It just needed a bit of recalibrating, that’s all.”
“Glad it was nothing major,” Julia said. “Hate it when the gravity goes awry. I kept finding stuff in the weirdest of places last time it happened.”
“As are we,” Gorom replied as they scuttled towards a large tank tucked away into the corner. A glass was pulled from somewhere, and the tap set into its side was twisted. “While you’re here, captain, try this.”
Julia took the glass that was proffered from one of Gorom’s seven-fingered hands and downed it in one; experience taught her that that was the best thing to do with one of the engineer’s concoctions. She spluttered as the moonshine burned down her throat, blinking back tears; not one of their good brews.
“Gods, that’s got a kick like an angry askriit,” she said, once the worst of the coughing had subsided. “What in the hellplanes is in it?”
“Well, there’s-”
“Actually, on second thoughts, don’t tell me,” Julia said, blinking back a few more tears. “Don’t think I want to know. Makes me wonder why you bother brewing this stuff; decent liquor isn’t that pricey, you know.”
“It gives us something to do on long journeys,” Gorom replied. “Besides, I like the flavour; fewer taste buds than you humans and all that.”
“Well, if I ever need paint thinned I’ll just go and help myself to a glass or two of this stuff,” Julia remarked. She briefly frowned in confusion as she noticed Gorom’s use of ‘I’, before she realised that the mouth organism was speaking not the collective it was part of but for itself. Or possibly himself or herself; Julia had no idea, and considering that q’relli had four sexes the odds of a random guess being correct were not in her favour.
“Very funny,” Gorom said, skin rippling a faint turquoise in annoyance at the jab. “Anything else you needed, captain?”
“Nah, just seeing how the gravitics were holding up,” Julia said. “Don’t let me keep you, Gorom.”
“I’ll speak to you later, captain,” the q’relli replied.
Julia stepped out of the engineering deck and, for the sake of sheer paranoia along with the desire to make sure that those three thousand Sovereigns became hers, headed to the cargo bay. She had a package to check on.
Rohirrim: You can be sure that I'll share some Amazon links, even if it's only so I can have some of your sweet, delicious money
Ghastley: Yeah, Madam Sangue is rather...European, isn't she?
Chapter 2
The gentle wave of uncolour and peering eyes broke over the domed prow of the Marco as the ship entered the Inverse, breaking out of the bounds of Matterspace. Julia blinked and grimaced at the discomfiting sight of the transition between her own universe to the ancient battlefield of the Reality War, her eyes struggling to perceive the sight of colours that existed outside of four-dimensional space. As it was, it appeared as a roiling sheen of milky blue from which occasional, bizarre shapes would half-emerge, groping or biting at the glass. She returned her attention back to the controls, not particularly concerned; Inverse Sprites were disquieting to look at, certainly, but they were harmless, and when she hullwalked in the Inverse she had suffered nothing worse than the occasional curious prod.
She adjusted control levers to nudge the Marco onto course, leaning back on her chair. She checked the course-indication instruments, making sure that the status readouts were all fine; that was habit more than anything else, ingrained in her from her old academy, and considering that Gorom, her engineer, were good at their job she really had nothing to worry about.
“Course check, Patterns,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to where the diminutive pyal was sitting in his chair.
There were a few moments as the Marco’s navigator checked their course, and from the empathic implication from See-Patterns-In-Stars she knew that the ship was indeed going in the right direction, and that it would arrive just outside of Mars’ gravity well in four days.
“Wonderful,” Julia nodded, pulling back a lever by the helm chair she sat on. It retracted back to the rest of the bridge, pulling out of the Marco’s domed front. She stood up on the foot of deckplate that was now before her, stepping around her chair.
“Bridge is yours, dear,” she said to Farko, giving the broad shoulder of her first mate, co-pilot and husband a squeeze. “I’m making some checks.”
“I’ll make sure nothing happens to the Marco in your absence,” he replied.
“That’s my man,” Julia said, swinging the door open with a creaking squeak of metal.
She set off, striding down the corridors of the Marco on her way to the cargo bay. Julia was the sort of person who could only stride; the sheer confidence and force of personality that she possessed meant that merely walking was impossible. Her boots had the habit of clanging against the deckplate, and she walked with a level of self assurance that left her as irresistible and unstoppable as a good-natured hurricane. Her height, striking features and the mane of brown hair that brushed her shoulder blades helped this further, and the overall impression that one got with Julia was of a woman who was imbued with an irrepressible abundance of sheer vitality
She stepped onto one of the ladders that allowed access to the Marco’s three decks, wedging her boots against the edges and sliding down. She stopped at deck two, pausing at the regular ringing noise that reverberated through the ship’s corridors, halting her descent and stepping out onto the corridor with a frown.
In the medical bay, the domain of the Marco’s resident physician Hans Rathskeller, the doctor was crouched before Ivris, the askriit sat on the examination table with a foot held out.
“What’s going on?” Julia asked, a farce of bafflement playing across her features.
“’E’o, capt’n,” Doctor Rathskeller managed to grunt, glancing around. There was a hammer in his hand, and nails were poking out from between his teeth.
“Arrit korzon, captain,” Ivris said, raising her head to bare her throat in her people’s traditional gesture of greeting and respect. “I’m re-shoeing, and Doctor Rathskeller was giving me a hand doing it; trying to shoe myself is never easy.”
She waggled her other foot to show the iron crescent on the bottom of her hoof.
“I see,” Julia said. “Wondering what that noise was.”
She frowned.
“Are you sure that Doctor Rathskeller’s the best person for this, Ivris?” she asked. “Wouldn’t you want a...a vet or something? Or a horse shoe specialist?”
“With all due respect, Captain,” Doctor Rathskeller said, removing the nails from his mouth so he could speak properly. “The health and wellbeing of the crew is my responsibility. Ivris may not be sick, but if her shoe was left in for too long then there will be complications, so as her physician it’s my duty to assist her in changing it. And it’s farrier, by the way”
“Besides, he’s done this before,” Ivris said, the askriit shrugging her thin, bony shoulders. “I’ve walked him through it and he knows what he’s doing.”
“I’ll leave you two to it, then,” Julia shrugged. “Carry on, doctor.”
“Indeed I shall,” Doctor Rathskeller said. “Now, where were we?”
Julia headed off back to the ladder, detour completed with her satisfied curiosity. There were a number of people who would have considered Doctor Rathskeller a strange choice for a ship’s doctor, what with him having been dead three hundred years, but Julia looked at it differently; that was three centuries of medical experience under his (very tight) belt, and a near-endless supply of entertaining anecdotes to go with it. It was true that he was now just a skeleton held together with strands of barely-visible vital energy, but he knew what he was doing and had been just about everywhere in the galaxy. Julia also found the idea of a doctor who received a reminder on basic anatomy every time they looked in the mirror to be an incredibly reassuring one.
Ivris, on the other hand, had not been picked for the ship’s crew out of need but had instead joined up partly by her own initiative. She was certainly useful, even if she held no particular position aboard the Marco beyond the general odd jobs that any working starship needed doing, though her position as a Kiazor, a rank of her people that was somewhere between a diplomat and a lawyer, gave her expertise that had come in useful more than once. The fact that she had come with Dravvit Klomar certainly helped; the huge machine served as her bodyguard and was fanatically loyal to her, not to mention he was good for heavy lifting and looking intimidating.
Her boots thumped against the deckplate at the bottom of the ladder, and she made her way to engineering. As she pushed open the door, the familiar scents of grease and hot metal assailing her nostrils, one of Gorom’s eye symbiotes turned around from where it was examining the engine, a free arm organism of the q’relli waving a greeting to her as she enter. Moved by their dozen arms, Gorom clambered away like a brawny blue spider, the gestalt of multiple self-aware body parts facing their captain.
“Captain,” the mouth organism that spoke for the collective said. “What can we do for you?”
“Just checking in,” Julia said. “You were saying something about the Gravitic Generator needing checking up, and I was wondering if it was all alright.”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Gorom replied, glancing over to the whirling blue ball of energy contained inside a cage of delicate brass wires that hummed with arcane energy. “It just needed a bit of recalibrating, that’s all.”
“Glad it was nothing major,” Julia said. “Hate it when the gravity goes awry. I kept finding stuff in the weirdest of places last time it happened.”
“As are we,” Gorom replied as they scuttled towards a large tank tucked away into the corner. A glass was pulled from somewhere, and the tap set into its side was twisted. “While you’re here, captain, try this.”
Julia took the glass that was proffered from one of Gorom’s seven-fingered hands and downed it in one; experience taught her that that was the best thing to do with one of the engineer’s concoctions. She spluttered as the moonshine burned down her throat, blinking back tears; not one of their good brews.
“Gods, that’s got a kick like an angry askriit,” she said, once the worst of the coughing had subsided. “What in the hellplanes is in it?”
“Well, there’s-”
“Actually, on second thoughts, don’t tell me,” Julia said, blinking back a few more tears. “Don’t think I want to know. Makes me wonder why you bother brewing this stuff; decent liquor isn’t that pricey, you know.”
“It gives us something to do on long journeys,” Gorom replied. “Besides, I like the flavour; fewer taste buds than you humans and all that.”
“Well, if I ever need paint thinned I’ll just go and help myself to a glass or two of this stuff,” Julia remarked. She briefly frowned in confusion as she noticed Gorom’s use of ‘I’, before she realised that the mouth organism was speaking not the collective it was part of but for itself. Or possibly himself or herself; Julia had no idea, and considering that q’relli had four sexes the odds of a random guess being correct were not in her favour.
“Very funny,” Gorom said, skin rippling a faint turquoise in annoyance at the jab. “Anything else you needed, captain?”
“Nah, just seeing how the gravitics were holding up,” Julia said. “Don’t let me keep you, Gorom.”
“I’ll speak to you later, captain,” the q’relli replied.
Julia stepped out of the engineering deck and, for the sake of sheer paranoia along with the desire to make sure that those three thousand Sovereigns became hers, headed to the cargo bay. She had a package to check on.
Okay...the aliens are super cool...
Thanks! Out of interest, the stuff with Gorom wasn't too confusing, was it? Because I had to absolutely torture the word 'they' at points while writing that scene.
Nope. A multi-armed, multi-gendered, multi-mouthed alien. Gotcha.
Gorom is awesome. I’m really enjoying this, Mustard!
Thanks, Grits! 
Didn't think that Gorom was going to be so popular.
And the next part is here. Sorry that it took a while, got caught up in doing some more redrafting on the main story and forgot about this for a wee while.
Chapter 3
“Julia. Oh, Julia.”
Wrapped in the covers of her cabin’s bed, Julia groaned as she felt a familiar, calloused hand shake her shoulder and curled tighter into the sheets in protest. The hand shook again, and she groaned in angry protest, waving her own to try and ward it off.
“Come on love,” Farko protested.
Julia rolled over and cracked an eye open. Farko was sitting next to her, and she took a few moments to admire the way the light gleamed off his dark skin and broad, work-muscled shoulders.
“Morning,” she finally said. “You’re looking gorgeous today.”
“That’s always nice to hear, but flattery isn’t going to get you a lie-in,” Farko smiled.
“Worth a try.”
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Julia pushed herself up and grabbed some clothes from the small trunk-draw underneath the bed she and Farko shared. Once the typical hard-wearing shirt and trousers of her work were on, she pulled on the heavy spacer boots she usually wore, the ones with the electromagnets in the soles and seals for a voidsuit, and donned her jacket. On her way to the bridge, she stopped in the galley to grab herself a cup of coffee from the pot that Yun had brewed, stuff that was thick as engine oil and strong enough to strip the skin off the inside of her cheeks but guaranteed to wake her up.
“Morning, Patterns,” she said as she entered the bridge, the pyal already in his seat. “You alright? Yeah, I’m fine. Tired, but you know what I’m like in the morning.”
Taking her seat, she racheted the lever by the chair down. The seat swung forward into the dome on the Marco’s prow, control systems raising or lowering to meet her. Placing her mug in the cup holder she had had installed, she glanced over at Patterns.
“How are we doing for Reversion?”
A moment later she knew that the Marco would be in position for a safe transition into Matterspace in just a few minutes. Mars would not be a long flight from there, and with luck the ship would be able to land, make its delivery and pick up its generous fee without any problems. Taking a sip of her coffee, she flicked on the intercom.
“Gorom, you there?”
“Here, captain. What can we do for you?”
“Just checking to see if the Inversion drive is all ready to go.”
“It’s warmed up and can get us through to Matterspace whenever you give the order.”
“Wonderful,” Julia said. “Get ready, we’re not far away.”
Julia was aiming for a quiet spot near the Sol system’s asteroid belt, where the Planetary league tended not to send out so many patrols; as the heart of the League’s territory, the place was well-guarded, but an individual ship could slip through, especially a ex-military stealth vessel like the Marco.
Knowledge entered her mind from Patterns that they were in the right position for Inversion, and Julia grinned as she flicked over to Gorom once more.
“We’re in position,” she said. “Punch us through, Gorom.”
A slit of darkness opened up in front of the Marco’s prow, the ship pushing forwards. As if it were pushing a pane of flexible glass, the space before the vessel contorted and stretched, the Inverse tugging around it. Finally, the membrane broke, the black star-speckled void of Matterspace washing around the dome at its fore as the Inversion drive finished slicing a hole in reality. The sweeping curve of the ship passed into empty vacuum, trailed by azure streamers Inverse-stuff before the Drive cut out and the hole sliced closed with guillotine finality.
“Gorom, how are the sublights doing?”
“Ready to go, captain,” Gorom’s voice crackled back over the intercom.
“Then we’re off,” Julia said, opening up the throttle.
The engines on the rear of the Marco roared, spitting forth indigo plasma as the thrusters powered up, teardrops of heat coalescing from the metallic cylinders. The energy they were exuding would be enough to utterly obliterate anything that was caught in them, could evaporate steel or rock, and the thrust they provided gave the Marco a turn of speed that was hard for most spacecraft to match.
Which was why Julia was very surprised when the ship began only inch forwards as if it were dragging a moon.
“Gorom, what’s going on?”
“Checking now,” Gorom said, one of the handlimbs holding the intercom as they scuttled towards a readout panel on the side of the Marco’s plasma drives. “Sublight engines are at full burn, there’s no power problems there.” An eye-organism glanced toward the Gravitic Generator, and the q’relli flashed purple in alarm. “Captain, someone has us in a gravity lock!”
Julia’s eyes widened, and she swivelled the intercom button to a general announcement with a flick of her thumb.
“All hands, buckle in for evasive manoeuvres!” she yelled down the microphone. “Farko, I need you on the bridge right now.” The dial was flicked back to the engineering deck. “Gorom, I want every joule you can spare going into breaking that gravity lock. Channel all non-essential power to the gravitics, whatever it takes to get us out of here!”
She snapped the lid on top of her much shut and the loose elastic band that was tied to the cupholder was freed and used to strap it down; last thing she wanted was scalding hot liquid floating about. Clipping a harness across her, she felt a peculiar lightness as the ship’s artificial gravity was lifted, the lights dimming moments later as Gorom channelled everything towards the gravitics.
“Hold’s broken, hold’s broken!” Gorom’s voice crackled over the intercom.
Engines already straining at full burn, the Marco shot forwards like a greyhound from its stall. The sheer pressure of the acceleration forced Julia back in her seat, but she pushed the controls forwards, the ship twisting downwards in a curving arc. A contrail of blue fire followed it like the tail of a metallic firework.
The door swung open and Farko entered, boots clanking quietly as the activated magnets in their soles held him to the deck. He shut it and switched the magnets off, grabbing the headrest of his seat and pulling himself into it with gymnast agility, strapping himself down.
“I need a position of whoever it is who tried to grab us,” Julia said as the Marco curved around a calcious colossus of an asteroid, a megalithic giant of pocked stone and jagged ridges. Farko turned to his console immediately, the instruments on it chattering and humming as he ran a scan.
“Got a ship at two-ten, two-twenty,” Farko replied as he checked the relative vertical and horizontal angle readouts. “Tailing us, but looks like they’re not as quick as we are.”
“Gorom,” Julia barked down the microphone, angling the Marco so its course would put another meteorite between themselves and their mystery attacker. “Get the glamour drives online, throw them off.”
“Can’t captain, they’re still trying for a gravity hold,” Gorom replied. “I’m bleeding the auxiliaries for power and as it is we’re barely keeping them from snaring us. I’m giving her all she’s got!”
“Well then,” Julia muttered. “Looks like we’ll just have to ru-”
A pillar of blue fire scored across her vision, a beam of energy that crossed in front of the Marco and slammed into their intended cover, sending semi-liquid chunks of stone spiralling out into the void. Acting more on instinct than anything else, Julia wrenched the controls back, curving her ship away from the attacker as she cursed furiously. She blinked, gobbets of afterimage crawling across her vision.
“What in the hellplanes was that?” Farko called.
“Plasma lance,” Julia replied. “That was just a warning shot, but these people aren’t messing about.”
“Message coming through,” Farko said. “They’re saying they want us to stop running and land.”
Julia glanced at the semi-molten wreckage of the asteroid that the shot had just hit. Something like that would shear the Marco in half, and her ship had neither the shields nor the armour to resist such a hit.
“Captain?” Farko asked. “Julia?”
Her gaze jumped once more to the striken meteorite, the chunks of calcite viscosity that drifted into emptiness.
The ship shuddered gently, as if in fright, as Julia powered down the engines and lowered the throttle. She sighed.
“Tell them we surrender.”
Didn't think that Gorom was going to be so popular.And the next part is here. Sorry that it took a while, got caught up in doing some more redrafting on the main story and forgot about this for a wee while.
Chapter 3
“Julia. Oh, Julia.”
Wrapped in the covers of her cabin’s bed, Julia groaned as she felt a familiar, calloused hand shake her shoulder and curled tighter into the sheets in protest. The hand shook again, and she groaned in angry protest, waving her own to try and ward it off.
“Come on love,” Farko protested.
Julia rolled over and cracked an eye open. Farko was sitting next to her, and she took a few moments to admire the way the light gleamed off his dark skin and broad, work-muscled shoulders.
“Morning,” she finally said. “You’re looking gorgeous today.”
“That’s always nice to hear, but flattery isn’t going to get you a lie-in,” Farko smiled.
“Worth a try.”
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Julia pushed herself up and grabbed some clothes from the small trunk-draw underneath the bed she and Farko shared. Once the typical hard-wearing shirt and trousers of her work were on, she pulled on the heavy spacer boots she usually wore, the ones with the electromagnets in the soles and seals for a voidsuit, and donned her jacket. On her way to the bridge, she stopped in the galley to grab herself a cup of coffee from the pot that Yun had brewed, stuff that was thick as engine oil and strong enough to strip the skin off the inside of her cheeks but guaranteed to wake her up.
“Morning, Patterns,” she said as she entered the bridge, the pyal already in his seat. “You alright? Yeah, I’m fine. Tired, but you know what I’m like in the morning.”
Taking her seat, she racheted the lever by the chair down. The seat swung forward into the dome on the Marco’s prow, control systems raising or lowering to meet her. Placing her mug in the cup holder she had had installed, she glanced over at Patterns.
“How are we doing for Reversion?”
A moment later she knew that the Marco would be in position for a safe transition into Matterspace in just a few minutes. Mars would not be a long flight from there, and with luck the ship would be able to land, make its delivery and pick up its generous fee without any problems. Taking a sip of her coffee, she flicked on the intercom.
“Gorom, you there?”
“Here, captain. What can we do for you?”
“Just checking to see if the Inversion drive is all ready to go.”
“It’s warmed up and can get us through to Matterspace whenever you give the order.”
“Wonderful,” Julia said. “Get ready, we’re not far away.”
Julia was aiming for a quiet spot near the Sol system’s asteroid belt, where the Planetary league tended not to send out so many patrols; as the heart of the League’s territory, the place was well-guarded, but an individual ship could slip through, especially a ex-military stealth vessel like the Marco.
Knowledge entered her mind from Patterns that they were in the right position for Inversion, and Julia grinned as she flicked over to Gorom once more.
“We’re in position,” she said. “Punch us through, Gorom.”
A slit of darkness opened up in front of the Marco’s prow, the ship pushing forwards. As if it were pushing a pane of flexible glass, the space before the vessel contorted and stretched, the Inverse tugging around it. Finally, the membrane broke, the black star-speckled void of Matterspace washing around the dome at its fore as the Inversion drive finished slicing a hole in reality. The sweeping curve of the ship passed into empty vacuum, trailed by azure streamers Inverse-stuff before the Drive cut out and the hole sliced closed with guillotine finality.
“Gorom, how are the sublights doing?”
“Ready to go, captain,” Gorom’s voice crackled back over the intercom.
“Then we’re off,” Julia said, opening up the throttle.
The engines on the rear of the Marco roared, spitting forth indigo plasma as the thrusters powered up, teardrops of heat coalescing from the metallic cylinders. The energy they were exuding would be enough to utterly obliterate anything that was caught in them, could evaporate steel or rock, and the thrust they provided gave the Marco a turn of speed that was hard for most spacecraft to match.
Which was why Julia was very surprised when the ship began only inch forwards as if it were dragging a moon.
“Gorom, what’s going on?”
“Checking now,” Gorom said, one of the handlimbs holding the intercom as they scuttled towards a readout panel on the side of the Marco’s plasma drives. “Sublight engines are at full burn, there’s no power problems there.” An eye-organism glanced toward the Gravitic Generator, and the q’relli flashed purple in alarm. “Captain, someone has us in a gravity lock!”
Julia’s eyes widened, and she swivelled the intercom button to a general announcement with a flick of her thumb.
“All hands, buckle in for evasive manoeuvres!” she yelled down the microphone. “Farko, I need you on the bridge right now.” The dial was flicked back to the engineering deck. “Gorom, I want every joule you can spare going into breaking that gravity lock. Channel all non-essential power to the gravitics, whatever it takes to get us out of here!”
She snapped the lid on top of her much shut and the loose elastic band that was tied to the cupholder was freed and used to strap it down; last thing she wanted was scalding hot liquid floating about. Clipping a harness across her, she felt a peculiar lightness as the ship’s artificial gravity was lifted, the lights dimming moments later as Gorom channelled everything towards the gravitics.
“Hold’s broken, hold’s broken!” Gorom’s voice crackled over the intercom.
Engines already straining at full burn, the Marco shot forwards like a greyhound from its stall. The sheer pressure of the acceleration forced Julia back in her seat, but she pushed the controls forwards, the ship twisting downwards in a curving arc. A contrail of blue fire followed it like the tail of a metallic firework.
The door swung open and Farko entered, boots clanking quietly as the activated magnets in their soles held him to the deck. He shut it and switched the magnets off, grabbing the headrest of his seat and pulling himself into it with gymnast agility, strapping himself down.
“I need a position of whoever it is who tried to grab us,” Julia said as the Marco curved around a calcious colossus of an asteroid, a megalithic giant of pocked stone and jagged ridges. Farko turned to his console immediately, the instruments on it chattering and humming as he ran a scan.
“Got a ship at two-ten, two-twenty,” Farko replied as he checked the relative vertical and horizontal angle readouts. “Tailing us, but looks like they’re not as quick as we are.”
“Gorom,” Julia barked down the microphone, angling the Marco so its course would put another meteorite between themselves and their mystery attacker. “Get the glamour drives online, throw them off.”
“Can’t captain, they’re still trying for a gravity hold,” Gorom replied. “I’m bleeding the auxiliaries for power and as it is we’re barely keeping them from snaring us. I’m giving her all she’s got!”
“Well then,” Julia muttered. “Looks like we’ll just have to ru-”
A pillar of blue fire scored across her vision, a beam of energy that crossed in front of the Marco and slammed into their intended cover, sending semi-liquid chunks of stone spiralling out into the void. Acting more on instinct than anything else, Julia wrenched the controls back, curving her ship away from the attacker as she cursed furiously. She blinked, gobbets of afterimage crawling across her vision.
“What in the hellplanes was that?” Farko called.
“Plasma lance,” Julia replied. “That was just a warning shot, but these people aren’t messing about.”
“Message coming through,” Farko said. “They’re saying they want us to stop running and land.”
Julia glanced at the semi-molten wreckage of the asteroid that the shot had just hit. Something like that would shear the Marco in half, and her ship had neither the shields nor the armour to resist such a hit.
“Captain?” Farko asked. “Julia?”
Her gaze jumped once more to the striken meteorite, the chunks of calcite viscosity that drifted into emptiness.
The ship shuddered gently, as if in fright, as Julia powered down the engines and lowered the throttle. She sighed.
“Tell them we surrender.”
Yikes!! That was exciting. The sleepy start was particularly nice. I already like these characters.
Grits: Thanks very much! I've grown quite a soft spot for them as well, hence why I'm writing this spin-off.
And yes, I know that it's been a while. It's been thanks to end-of-semester exhaustion, an absolute killer of an essay, a few personal things and because of this hush your gums, bruv. Hush them. Hush, I say!
Chapter 4
As ships went, it was intimidating.
Two hundred metres from prow to stern, black-painted plates of thick armour adorning its flanks. The plasma lance that had fired on the Marco jutted from a turret on its back, and underneath its prow a pair of torpedo tubes could be seen. There was a sleekness to its bulk, a predatory hybrid of brutality and grace that made it frightening to behold, and as the ship drew close down she couldn’t help but feel like prey facing down a lion.
The Marco had been ordered to stay in position as it approached, drawing level with one of the small ship’s airlocks. A boarding tunnel unfolded from its flank as it slowed to a halt, gleaming ferrous in the starlight as it attached itself to the Marco’s port airlock. Faint blasts of air hissed into the vacuum in silence as a seal was formed, and on Julia’s order the airlock’s outer door opened. Right now, the crew stood the best odds of survival if they looked cooperative.
“Remember,” Julia said to Farko as they waited to receive their visitors. “Keep steady. Let’s not piss them off.”
The wheel on the airlock spun and the heavy metal door swung open. The boarders that emerged were fearsome looked, dress ragged and without uniformity. There were more than dozen of them, q’relli, khusi and humans, all of them carrying shotguns, the buckshot less likely to pierce the hull if they missed. Each one of them was scarred or tattooed or both, and bore an air that suggested an innate familiarity with violence, but it was the man at their head that caught Julia’s eye.
Unlike the others, he had no weapon to hand, and though his appearance was as ragged as the rest of the boarders he carried a definite air of authority with him. The tail of black tattoo extended from his left eye and down the side of his face, disappearing beneath his shirt, and there was a revolver at his belt along with a sword in a scabbard that had the space around it humming and twitching, as if reality was discomfited by its presence.
“Captain,” he said. “I’m glad you decided to see sense. You have no idea how much easier this makes things for me.”
“It was a pleasure,” Julia said, sarcasm dripping caustic and thick from every word.
“What a harsh tone to take,” the man replied, a condescending smile dancing across his features. “You wound me, captain.”
“Look, I can guess why you’re here, but trust me, this ship isn’t worth the trouble,” Julia said. “You can murder us and steal our cargo if you want, but all that’s going to do is come back and bite you in the arse; you’d just be taking a package from Madam Sangue, and I’m guessing that you know what she’s like. You really think you can get away from her?”
“Actually, Captain, I am well aware of the odds, and I do not particularly care for murdering you or this crew today,” the pirate replied. “In fact, I would rather you stayed alive so that you can inform Madam Sangue that Karl Hirstoff is dealing with his unfinished business.”
“Hirstoff?” Julia snorted. “Yeah, like you’re really the Corsair Count. The League had him executed centuries ago, or have you not ever been to any school?”
The man smiled, and from his gums a pair of long fangs were extended. It was a frightening sight, but Julia refused to be cowed. Right now she was more angry at this man swaggering arrogance and the fact that he dared to threaten her and her crew.
“You think being a vampire is going to make me believe you?” Julia said. “Look, get out of here before you piss off the wrong woman. You know Madam Sangue would kill you if you tried anything.”
And in the next moment, his sword was at her throat.
There had been no movement and Julia had not seen him draw, had not even seen the faint blur that would have suggest a swift motion; one moment it was sheathed, at the next its tip was pressed against her neck. Her skin crawled around its touch, aching and uncomfortable by the proximity of this strange, impossible thing, and for some vague reason she had a gently pressing memory-double of the sword being at her throat since the moment Hirstoff had opened the airlock, fighting against her recall of events just seconds ago. Despite her predicament Julia frowned at the simple, straight blade, a length of unadorned steel that had the space around it ripple and judder as reality recoiled at its presence. What was that thing?
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Hirstoff warned Farko as the First Mate stepped back and grabbed for the pistol at his belt. The false jocularity in his voice had disappeared and now it held an edge harder and sharper than meteoric diamond. “One false move and I will cut your captain’s throat, and rest assured that I can end her life far quicker than you can hope to move. And when she’s dead, my crew will gun you down, kill everyone else on board and destroy this vessel. Cooperate, and you live.”
“Do as he says,” Julia said to him. “Please, Farko, don’t be an idiot.”
A grimace of unhappiness on his features, Farko raised his empty hands. One of the pirates, a heavily scarred woman with a shaven head, pressed her shotgun against the back of his neck and grabbed his collar with her non-trigger hand. Farko gulped.
“Right, we’re being cooperative,” Julia said. “Look how cooperative we’re being.”
“Good,” Hirstoff said. “Now you are going to take me to where your package is stored and I am going to retrieve it.”
“It’s in the hold,” Julia said. “I guess I’ll lead the way.”
Held at the point of several guns and the point of a blade that felt as if it should have existed, Julia lead them to the cargo hold.
Ivris and Dravvit Klomar were waiting there, the askriit and her huge Machtoro both armed. The barrels of the machine’s rotagun were spinning gently as he turned the weapon’s crank, and they turned towards the boarders as they entered.
“Put those weapons down,” Julia ordered before either Ivris or Dravvit Klomar could do anything rash. Obediently, the two of them pointed the firearms away, but Ivris lowered her head toward Hirstoff, displaying the two ridges of heavy bone that ran parallel on the top of her skull to him, an askriit gesture of aggression.
“I didn’t know you had your own askriit,” Hirstoff said. “And one with a Machtoro, no less. I didn’t think you people ever left the boundaries of your empire.”
“My reasons for doing so are my own,” Ivris replied. “I see no reason to tell the likes of you.”
“I’m sure they are,” Hirstoff replied. “Now, where is your cargo?”
Ivris hesitated for a moment, glancing towards Julia for direction.
“Do as he says,” she instructed.
“Guuthra drux, Dravvit Klomar,” Ivris commanded her machine in askriit. She glared at Hirstoff. “Korochta kozakirt, bazthrocturu.”
“You wound me, I’m sure,” Hirstoff said as Dravvit Klomar stomped to a raised section of wall, one so high up only the huge machine could reach it. A concealed panel was slid aside by one of his huge hands, and with surprising deftness he retrieved the heavy box hidden within. He placed it on the deck.
“There it is,” he said.
“Slide it over to me,” Hirstoff said. “And then stay where you are, Machtoro.”
With a rumbling growl of discontent, Dravvit Klomar complied, taking another step back. Julia didn’t blame Hirstoff for that precaution; even if he was a vampire, Dravvit Klomar had the raw strength to rip him in half, and the buckshot the pirates were using wouldn’t even slow him down.
It was just a shame that if he did try to attack them then Julia and Farko would be dead in moments.
The uncanny pressure of Hirstoff’s blade was retracted, and several of the pirates took aim at her as their captain crouched by the crate, weapon now sheathed. He opened up the clasps and pulled up the lid, and pulled something free.
It was a huge egg, shell a pearlescent blue that shifted and moved like viscous liquid. It was faintly translucent, and within a faint shadow of a shape shifted and moved. Julia’s jaw dropped as she saw two more of them resting on either side.
“Dragon eggs?” she said. “Wilhelmina had us smuggling gods-damned dragon eggs?”
Somehow, things had just got even messier.
And yes, I know that it's been a while. It's been thanks to end-of-semester exhaustion, an absolute killer of an essay, a few personal things and because of this hush your gums, bruv. Hush them. Hush, I say!
Chapter 4
As ships went, it was intimidating.
Two hundred metres from prow to stern, black-painted plates of thick armour adorning its flanks. The plasma lance that had fired on the Marco jutted from a turret on its back, and underneath its prow a pair of torpedo tubes could be seen. There was a sleekness to its bulk, a predatory hybrid of brutality and grace that made it frightening to behold, and as the ship drew close down she couldn’t help but feel like prey facing down a lion.
The Marco had been ordered to stay in position as it approached, drawing level with one of the small ship’s airlocks. A boarding tunnel unfolded from its flank as it slowed to a halt, gleaming ferrous in the starlight as it attached itself to the Marco’s port airlock. Faint blasts of air hissed into the vacuum in silence as a seal was formed, and on Julia’s order the airlock’s outer door opened. Right now, the crew stood the best odds of survival if they looked cooperative.
“Remember,” Julia said to Farko as they waited to receive their visitors. “Keep steady. Let’s not piss them off.”
The wheel on the airlock spun and the heavy metal door swung open. The boarders that emerged were fearsome looked, dress ragged and without uniformity. There were more than dozen of them, q’relli, khusi and humans, all of them carrying shotguns, the buckshot less likely to pierce the hull if they missed. Each one of them was scarred or tattooed or both, and bore an air that suggested an innate familiarity with violence, but it was the man at their head that caught Julia’s eye.
Unlike the others, he had no weapon to hand, and though his appearance was as ragged as the rest of the boarders he carried a definite air of authority with him. The tail of black tattoo extended from his left eye and down the side of his face, disappearing beneath his shirt, and there was a revolver at his belt along with a sword in a scabbard that had the space around it humming and twitching, as if reality was discomfited by its presence.
“Captain,” he said. “I’m glad you decided to see sense. You have no idea how much easier this makes things for me.”
“It was a pleasure,” Julia said, sarcasm dripping caustic and thick from every word.
“What a harsh tone to take,” the man replied, a condescending smile dancing across his features. “You wound me, captain.”
“Look, I can guess why you’re here, but trust me, this ship isn’t worth the trouble,” Julia said. “You can murder us and steal our cargo if you want, but all that’s going to do is come back and bite you in the arse; you’d just be taking a package from Madam Sangue, and I’m guessing that you know what she’s like. You really think you can get away from her?”
“Actually, Captain, I am well aware of the odds, and I do not particularly care for murdering you or this crew today,” the pirate replied. “In fact, I would rather you stayed alive so that you can inform Madam Sangue that Karl Hirstoff is dealing with his unfinished business.”
“Hirstoff?” Julia snorted. “Yeah, like you’re really the Corsair Count. The League had him executed centuries ago, or have you not ever been to any school?”
The man smiled, and from his gums a pair of long fangs were extended. It was a frightening sight, but Julia refused to be cowed. Right now she was more angry at this man swaggering arrogance and the fact that he dared to threaten her and her crew.
“You think being a vampire is going to make me believe you?” Julia said. “Look, get out of here before you piss off the wrong woman. You know Madam Sangue would kill you if you tried anything.”
And in the next moment, his sword was at her throat.
There had been no movement and Julia had not seen him draw, had not even seen the faint blur that would have suggest a swift motion; one moment it was sheathed, at the next its tip was pressed against her neck. Her skin crawled around its touch, aching and uncomfortable by the proximity of this strange, impossible thing, and for some vague reason she had a gently pressing memory-double of the sword being at her throat since the moment Hirstoff had opened the airlock, fighting against her recall of events just seconds ago. Despite her predicament Julia frowned at the simple, straight blade, a length of unadorned steel that had the space around it ripple and judder as reality recoiled at its presence. What was that thing?
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Hirstoff warned Farko as the First Mate stepped back and grabbed for the pistol at his belt. The false jocularity in his voice had disappeared and now it held an edge harder and sharper than meteoric diamond. “One false move and I will cut your captain’s throat, and rest assured that I can end her life far quicker than you can hope to move. And when she’s dead, my crew will gun you down, kill everyone else on board and destroy this vessel. Cooperate, and you live.”
“Do as he says,” Julia said to him. “Please, Farko, don’t be an idiot.”
A grimace of unhappiness on his features, Farko raised his empty hands. One of the pirates, a heavily scarred woman with a shaven head, pressed her shotgun against the back of his neck and grabbed his collar with her non-trigger hand. Farko gulped.
“Right, we’re being cooperative,” Julia said. “Look how cooperative we’re being.”
“Good,” Hirstoff said. “Now you are going to take me to where your package is stored and I am going to retrieve it.”
“It’s in the hold,” Julia said. “I guess I’ll lead the way.”
Held at the point of several guns and the point of a blade that felt as if it should have existed, Julia lead them to the cargo hold.
Ivris and Dravvit Klomar were waiting there, the askriit and her huge Machtoro both armed. The barrels of the machine’s rotagun were spinning gently as he turned the weapon’s crank, and they turned towards the boarders as they entered.
“Put those weapons down,” Julia ordered before either Ivris or Dravvit Klomar could do anything rash. Obediently, the two of them pointed the firearms away, but Ivris lowered her head toward Hirstoff, displaying the two ridges of heavy bone that ran parallel on the top of her skull to him, an askriit gesture of aggression.
“I didn’t know you had your own askriit,” Hirstoff said. “And one with a Machtoro, no less. I didn’t think you people ever left the boundaries of your empire.”
“My reasons for doing so are my own,” Ivris replied. “I see no reason to tell the likes of you.”
“I’m sure they are,” Hirstoff replied. “Now, where is your cargo?”
Ivris hesitated for a moment, glancing towards Julia for direction.
“Do as he says,” she instructed.
“Guuthra drux, Dravvit Klomar,” Ivris commanded her machine in askriit. She glared at Hirstoff. “Korochta kozakirt, bazthrocturu.”
“You wound me, I’m sure,” Hirstoff said as Dravvit Klomar stomped to a raised section of wall, one so high up only the huge machine could reach it. A concealed panel was slid aside by one of his huge hands, and with surprising deftness he retrieved the heavy box hidden within. He placed it on the deck.
“There it is,” he said.
“Slide it over to me,” Hirstoff said. “And then stay where you are, Machtoro.”
With a rumbling growl of discontent, Dravvit Klomar complied, taking another step back. Julia didn’t blame Hirstoff for that precaution; even if he was a vampire, Dravvit Klomar had the raw strength to rip him in half, and the buckshot the pirates were using wouldn’t even slow him down.
It was just a shame that if he did try to attack them then Julia and Farko would be dead in moments.
The uncanny pressure of Hirstoff’s blade was retracted, and several of the pirates took aim at her as their captain crouched by the crate, weapon now sheathed. He opened up the clasps and pulled up the lid, and pulled something free.
It was a huge egg, shell a pearlescent blue that shifted and moved like viscous liquid. It was faintly translucent, and within a faint shadow of a shape shifted and moved. Julia’s jaw dropped as she saw two more of them resting on either side.
“Dragon eggs?” she said. “Wilhelmina had us smuggling gods-damned dragon eggs?”
Somehow, things had just got even messier.
This is a nice intro to tell us something of the novel you have been working on.
As a sci-fi fan, I rather enjoyed the characters. I'd like to see more of their personalities, but it's best if it takes some time to learn about them.
I had to laugh at Bones trying to shoe a hoofed alien! That was an enjoyable scene!
One nit - in your installment from November 23:
Keep going, I want to see what happens next!
As a sci-fi fan, I rather enjoyed the characters. I'd like to see more of their personalities, but it's best if it takes some time to learn about them.
I had to laugh at Bones trying to shoe a hoofed alien! That was an enjoyable scene!
One nit - in your installment from November 23:
QUOTE
“I see,” Julia said. “Wandering what that noise was.”
I believe you want wondering here, as opposed to aimless meandering of the feet.Keep going, I want to see what happens next!
SPACE DRAGONS?! Somehow things had just got even more awesome!!
HER: Thanks very much!
Cheers for pointing out the nit, I'll go and fix that now, and I'll honestly admit that the whole 'Bones' thing hadn't occurred to me. I'm going to have to slip that in somewhere now
Grit: Set your phasers to FUS RO DAH!
Chapter 5
“Three of them, all in marvellous condition,” Hirstoff said. “Ready to hatch as soon as the conditions are right. Something worth snubbing dear Wilhemina for, even without my own reasons for doing it. How much were you being paid to deliver these, then, Captain?”
“Three thousand Sovereigns,” Julia said. “I should have asked for thirty. Or not done this damn job.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re regretting all of this in hindsight,” Hirstoff replied. “Rest assured that this is nothing personal.”
“Oh, that’s fine then,” Julia said. “You’re completely forgiven.”
“You know, for someone whose chances of survival lie solely in keeping me appeased, you seem to be trying very hard to irritate me,” Hirstoff said.
“Guess I don’t appreciate guns being pointed at me while you act nice,” Julia shot back.
“Well fine,” Hirstoff said. He replaced the egg and snapped the lid shut. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter, after all. Your askriit and the Machtoro can stay here, you and your crewmate will accompany me-” Julia snorted at ‘accompany’ and Hirstoff glared. “Will accompany me back to the airlock, and then we will leave. After that, you will be so good as to inform Madame Sangue of what happened and who did it.”
He nodded to two of his pirates, and the pair of the stepped forwards and took the box.
“You realise that she’ll kill us, you know,” Julia said as they made their way back to the airlock. Ivris and Dravvit Klomar glared after them in impotent fury.
“Oh, really? My word, captain, look at how all of that isn’t my problem. Astounding, isn’t it?”
“As soon as I get the chance I’m slamming a stake through your heart and then I’m venting you into a star,” Julia glowered.
“Julia,” Farko said, glancing at her with a warning look in his eyes.
“Listen to your friend, captain,” Hirstoff said. “I’d recommend that you don’t push me too far; you live only on my sufferance.”
Julia grimaced, but said nothing as they reached the airlock. The two pirates carrying the crate were first through, and one by one the boarders left, weapons still trained on Farko and Julia. Hirstoff was last to go, still grinning at them as the door swung shut.
As soon as she was gone, Julia swore. She spat out every single profane term she knew in Earthsperanto, all that she had from her limited vocabulary of Askriitacht, those khusi curses that her vocal cords could actually enunciate and the q’relli cusses which didn’t require her changing the colour of her skin or emitting pheromones. Finally, she kicked the airlock door, and cursed once again as she grabbed at the toe of her boot.
“You got all that out your system?” Farko asked.
“Yeah,” Julia said. “Gods, that smug, arrogant bastard! I just wanted to jam my thumbs into his eyes and see the condescending little arse squirm!”
“I think you made that plenty clear.”
“Gods, I’m sorry,” Julia groaned, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor. “He just made me so angry.”
Farko sat down next to her, sliding his hand into hers and giving it a squeeze.
“So, what now?”
“Do you think we might get away with it if we ran straight away?”
“Doubt it,” Farko said. “This is Madam Sangue we’re talking about. She’d find us sooner or later.”
“We could make a break for Andromeda,” Julia said. “Long-distance run, that sort thing. She can’t catch us in another galaxy.”
“She won’t be able to catch us because any ship that gets out of the galaxy’s gravity well is eaten by Inverse Wyrms,” Farko pointed out.
“The yarika manage it.”
“Yeah, but I doubt they’re going to share that secret any time soon.”
“True. Besides, they’re weird, creep me out. So that’s that plan off the books. Any other bright ideas?”
“We could just tell Madam Sangue,” Farko suggested.
“What? So she can shoot us for losing her dragon eggs and however many millions of Sovereigns they’re worth?” Julia asked.
“Look, if this Hirstoff person is as big a player as he says he is, then Sangue will be too worried about him to think about raking us over the coals,” Farko said. “Besides, this entire thing didn’t feel right.”
“We’re going to get killed by a pissed-off vampire. Nothing about that at all fits the definition of ‘right’.”
“What I mean is, how come Hirstoff knew that the Marco was going to emerge where it was?”
“Popular smuggler spot, not often patrolled. Just wait here, intercept some poor bastard and take their stuff. Clever little operation.”
“And how come he knew to wait for just this moment to arrive, to look specifically for the Marco and that we were carrying those eggs,” Farko said. “It seems to me that Hirstoff was tipped off about this job before we even set off.”
“Of course!” Julia said, grinning. “Farko, you are a bloody genius! And if she’s got someone on the inside who stabbed us in the back, then she’s less likely to want to kill us if we do her a favour and let her know that there’s a mole in her organisation.”
Her smile faded a little.
“Less likely,” she added. “Still, I suppose it’s our best shot.”
“We’re going to have to gamble on it,” Farko said. “But there’s no way we can take Hirstoff on our own.”
“That hadn’t occurred to me,” Julia said, mulling it over. “I mean, we do have Dravvit Klomar and Mr Yun with us, maybe we can-”
“No.”
“I was just saying.”
“No. That’s a bloody insane idea.”
Julia shook her head.
“So we’re gambling on the kindness of Madam Sangue instead,” she said. “Fantastic. I guess it’s slightly better than us trying to take on a whole load of pirates.”
“What do we tell the crew?” Farko asked. “Mr Yun probably wants to know why he wasn’t warned about Hirstoff and his lot.”
“Suppose he will,” Julia said. “Though in retrospect, I’m glad he wasn’t there; he’s a one-man army, sure, but I doubt even he’d be able to fight through all of Hirstoff’s lot. And knowing him, he’d put up a fight.”
“He does have that paradox revolver,” Farko pointed out.
“Yeah, but Hirstoff had that sword of his,” Julia said. “Something about that weapon just didn’t feel right and I don’t know if a paradox revolver would be enough to stop it.”
She pushed herself to her feet and sighed.
“Right, let’s go have a word with the crew,” she said. “See what was can salvage of this godsdamned mess.”
Cheers for pointing out the nit, I'll go and fix that now, and I'll honestly admit that the whole 'Bones' thing hadn't occurred to me. I'm going to have to slip that in somewhere now
Grit: Set your phasers to FUS RO DAH!
Chapter 5
“Three of them, all in marvellous condition,” Hirstoff said. “Ready to hatch as soon as the conditions are right. Something worth snubbing dear Wilhemina for, even without my own reasons for doing it. How much were you being paid to deliver these, then, Captain?”
“Three thousand Sovereigns,” Julia said. “I should have asked for thirty. Or not done this damn job.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re regretting all of this in hindsight,” Hirstoff replied. “Rest assured that this is nothing personal.”
“Oh, that’s fine then,” Julia said. “You’re completely forgiven.”
“You know, for someone whose chances of survival lie solely in keeping me appeased, you seem to be trying very hard to irritate me,” Hirstoff said.
“Guess I don’t appreciate guns being pointed at me while you act nice,” Julia shot back.
“Well fine,” Hirstoff said. He replaced the egg and snapped the lid shut. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter, after all. Your askriit and the Machtoro can stay here, you and your crewmate will accompany me-” Julia snorted at ‘accompany’ and Hirstoff glared. “Will accompany me back to the airlock, and then we will leave. After that, you will be so good as to inform Madame Sangue of what happened and who did it.”
He nodded to two of his pirates, and the pair of the stepped forwards and took the box.
“You realise that she’ll kill us, you know,” Julia said as they made their way back to the airlock. Ivris and Dravvit Klomar glared after them in impotent fury.
“Oh, really? My word, captain, look at how all of that isn’t my problem. Astounding, isn’t it?”
“As soon as I get the chance I’m slamming a stake through your heart and then I’m venting you into a star,” Julia glowered.
“Julia,” Farko said, glancing at her with a warning look in his eyes.
“Listen to your friend, captain,” Hirstoff said. “I’d recommend that you don’t push me too far; you live only on my sufferance.”
Julia grimaced, but said nothing as they reached the airlock. The two pirates carrying the crate were first through, and one by one the boarders left, weapons still trained on Farko and Julia. Hirstoff was last to go, still grinning at them as the door swung shut.
As soon as she was gone, Julia swore. She spat out every single profane term she knew in Earthsperanto, all that she had from her limited vocabulary of Askriitacht, those khusi curses that her vocal cords could actually enunciate and the q’relli cusses which didn’t require her changing the colour of her skin or emitting pheromones. Finally, she kicked the airlock door, and cursed once again as she grabbed at the toe of her boot.
“You got all that out your system?” Farko asked.
“Yeah,” Julia said. “Gods, that smug, arrogant bastard! I just wanted to jam my thumbs into his eyes and see the condescending little arse squirm!”
“I think you made that plenty clear.”
“Gods, I’m sorry,” Julia groaned, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor. “He just made me so angry.”
Farko sat down next to her, sliding his hand into hers and giving it a squeeze.
“So, what now?”
“Do you think we might get away with it if we ran straight away?”
“Doubt it,” Farko said. “This is Madam Sangue we’re talking about. She’d find us sooner or later.”
“We could make a break for Andromeda,” Julia said. “Long-distance run, that sort thing. She can’t catch us in another galaxy.”
“She won’t be able to catch us because any ship that gets out of the galaxy’s gravity well is eaten by Inverse Wyrms,” Farko pointed out.
“The yarika manage it.”
“Yeah, but I doubt they’re going to share that secret any time soon.”
“True. Besides, they’re weird, creep me out. So that’s that plan off the books. Any other bright ideas?”
“We could just tell Madam Sangue,” Farko suggested.
“What? So she can shoot us for losing her dragon eggs and however many millions of Sovereigns they’re worth?” Julia asked.
“Look, if this Hirstoff person is as big a player as he says he is, then Sangue will be too worried about him to think about raking us over the coals,” Farko said. “Besides, this entire thing didn’t feel right.”
“We’re going to get killed by a pissed-off vampire. Nothing about that at all fits the definition of ‘right’.”
“What I mean is, how come Hirstoff knew that the Marco was going to emerge where it was?”
“Popular smuggler spot, not often patrolled. Just wait here, intercept some poor bastard and take their stuff. Clever little operation.”
“And how come he knew to wait for just this moment to arrive, to look specifically for the Marco and that we were carrying those eggs,” Farko said. “It seems to me that Hirstoff was tipped off about this job before we even set off.”
“Of course!” Julia said, grinning. “Farko, you are a bloody genius! And if she’s got someone on the inside who stabbed us in the back, then she’s less likely to want to kill us if we do her a favour and let her know that there’s a mole in her organisation.”
Her smile faded a little.
“Less likely,” she added. “Still, I suppose it’s our best shot.”
“We’re going to have to gamble on it,” Farko said. “But there’s no way we can take Hirstoff on our own.”
“That hadn’t occurred to me,” Julia said, mulling it over. “I mean, we do have Dravvit Klomar and Mr Yun with us, maybe we can-”
“No.”
“I was just saying.”
“No. That’s a bloody insane idea.”
Julia shook her head.
“So we’re gambling on the kindness of Madam Sangue instead,” she said. “Fantastic. I guess it’s slightly better than us trying to take on a whole load of pirates.”
“What do we tell the crew?” Farko asked. “Mr Yun probably wants to know why he wasn’t warned about Hirstoff and his lot.”
“Suppose he will,” Julia said. “Though in retrospect, I’m glad he wasn’t there; he’s a one-man army, sure, but I doubt even he’d be able to fight through all of Hirstoff’s lot. And knowing him, he’d put up a fight.”
“He does have that paradox revolver,” Farko pointed out.
“Yeah, but Hirstoff had that sword of his,” Julia said. “Something about that weapon just didn’t feel right and I don’t know if a paradox revolver would be enough to stop it.”
She pushed herself to her feet and sighed.
“Right, let’s go have a word with the crew,” she said. “See what was can salvage of this godsdamned mess.”
Earthsperanto. Heh.
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