June and the crew of the Tori had assembled in the meeting room for their daily update.

"Good news and bad news." Bjorn pushed the latest cargo manifest onto the screen. "Good news: We're nearly ready to go. She's filled to the brim with food and fuel." He gently patted the table, then smirked at Rip. "We've also stocked up on mining equipment."

"Mining?" June looked puzzled.

"Yeah, Tori can't have weapons, but she is a registered mining rig." Rip pushed spec sheets onto the screen. "So we have a bunch of asteroid breakers."

June skimmed the sheets. "Those are missiles."

"They usually don't hit as hard." Rip shrugged, then grinned. "Unless you're going after sturdy stuff." They pushed a gold rimmed certificate onto the screen and beamed. "And we have PERMITS!"

June chuckled and turned towards Bjorn. "So then what's the bad news?"

"It's your contract. They won't let us buy you out, and we can't raise the offer anymore without drawing suspicion." A bunch of pictures popped up on the screen. "Those were the contacts. Know any of 'em?"

"Well fuck." June grimaced and highlighted a sleek looking man. "Let me introduce to you all: Alain, my supervisor and a professional nosy bastard. I suspected that he suspected that I was up to something." She looked at Marga. "We spent the last few days throwing smokescreens on the feeds, apparently it wasn't enough." Then panic flooded her face. "If I go back now, they will make me talk."

Captain Konrad was chewing his lower lip and sat in silence for a while. "I'll get us auth for an incursion."

"Incursion?" June looked around the table with a confused face.

Marga sat in her chair with a slight smile on her lips. "I'm going to burn you out of their system."

12/X

#writing #microfiction #smallstories #tootfic #scifi

The Mad Frank's Dreams: Post 6 Chue’s Con 2 of 2 parts

#FanFic #TheApothecaryDiaries
#Wss366 Rack #MastoPrompt Volume

“How much do they pay you?” Chue asked. Her voice was still hoarse, but her words were clear, the #volume steady.

“What’s it to ya?” the elder said.

“Because whatever it is, it’s not enough,” Chue said. “Take us out of here, and you can claim a reward for the lady over there. Then take your money, go to another city, and live like nobles for the rest of your life.”

“Ya turn us in and get the whole reward. Hah! Serpents, that’s what Prophet calls ya jeses,” Cudgel said.

“You can collect it all. Once we get out of here, I’ll vanish if you want. The Moon Prince will pay you a fortune to get her back. Why settle for a few spilled grains when you can have the whole harvest?”

“Juda Prince,” the first man laughed. “He’ll pay, oh, he’ll pay—pay in lamb’s blood, that’s what the pilgrim said. Fire and brimstone, aye, he’ll bring it down. Burn out the serpents, the dogs, all of ’em. Prophet says so—us clean ones take what’s left.”

He pulled a wooden crucifix with a crude iron nail hammered into it from under his robes. The tip was bloody where it had gouged its bearer. His brother produced a similar one.

Since she couldn’t convince these two zealots to help, she decided to gather what information she could. “This prophet, he wouldn’t be The Frank?” She omitted the word “mad.” It wouldn’t do to antagonize them.

“God speaks to that one. Promised to bring down fire on the land,” Cudgel said while the elder nodded.

“Been here too long,” said the one with the tray, putting it down on the floor. “Ya be feeding the jese princess when she awakes.”

With that, the two departed, while Chue slumped against the wall.

#MicroFiction #TootFic #ApothecaryDiaries #NMFic #Serial

The Mad Frank's Dreams: Post 6 Chue’s Con 1 of 2 parts

#FanFic #TheApothecaryDiaries
#Wss366 Rack #MastoPrompt Volume

Since it was pointless #racking her brains for an escape plan, Chue went to sleep.

She awoke to the sound of the door scraping open. Her head still hurt, but when she opened her eyes a slit, the room didn’t spin. In the doorway stood two burly men, brothers by the look of them. The elder held a tray in his hands, two steaming bowls balanced on it. Bile rose in her throat as the sour smell of boiled millet reached her.

The other man had a cudgel by his side, but Chue didn’t think she could wrestle it away from him in time to use it. She might take one down, but the other would easily defeat her in the process. So she would have to out-talk them.

The first man spoke, “Told ya you hit the yese too hard. Prophet wants her alive.” He nodded toward the bed. Chue didn’t recognize the term “yese,” but it sounded like a foreign slur.

Her thoughts were still slow, but she worked on understanding, knowing that any clue might be important. The Mad Frank sometimes called the courtesans “yesebel” when he was in a foul mood. But even if they were the same, that didn’t help her.

The second man toed her. “Wake up, honey child. The prophet says, to eat.”

She opened her eyes fully. “Water.” The words came out as a raspy whisper. Food sounded revolting, but she thought she could manage a drink.

The water from a gourd she had been given tasted wonderful. She sipped it while examining the two men. Their worn clothes marked them as poor. Hard muscles indicated individuals who did manual labor. Scars made by fists, not edged weapons, marred their faces, so they weren’t mercenaries. Ears in good shape meant they weren’t professional brawlers either. However, they held themselves with the assurance of men accustomed to getting their way through brute force: enforcers, perhaps, mercenaries of a different type, hired from the underworld.

#MicroFiction #TootFic #ApothecaryDiaries #NMFic #Serial

One week later:

Alaine had watched Seeker, and seen how she had interviewed every member of the crew other than the Captain and Engle. About their homeworlds, families, the Trade Board, all sorts of subjects. Even such things as popular music and entertainment.

So he was outside the Captain's cabin now, and knocked. "Come!" came her voice from within.
He opened the door, and stepped in, closing it behind him. "Captain, I have a request."
She waved a hand indicating he should go on.
"I would like permission to go station-side and see if there is a public archive feed."
"You've checked remotely?" was her instant response.
"Yes, Captain! No archive feeds. In fact, Captain, the station-side data feeds are rather sparse."
"They are aren't they? Very well, but take Dyani with you, she's got training in xenosociology."
"Yes Captain!"

He found Dyani in the cabin she shared with Sparks. "Dyani, I'm going station-side to try and find a public archive. Captain wants you to come with me."
"That's going to be interesting, Alaine. How are you going to read it?"
That brought him up short "I ... had not thought of that."
"It is still worth having a look. Even kid's picture books can teach you a lot."

The station-side guards proved to be perfectly happy to point them in the right direction, and thirty minutes later they were at the public archive. Stepping in, they were greeted by a short middle-aged man in flowing black. "Ah! Our guests!" he exclaimed with a large smile, "What can I do for two traders this day?"
"Uh, hi," Alaine managed, rather overwhelmed by the enthusiastic greeting. "Uh, we were hoping to read up a bit on your history."
"I know just the book for you! It is a popular tale, you know."
"Sorry?"
"You'll see, you'll see!" the archivist said cheerfully, "Just wait here."

Now that they had a moment to look around, Dyani and Alaine were again struck by how odd these people were. There were no data systems obvious, just shelves and shelves of paper books.

"Here we go!" the archivist almost boomed as he reappeared, "Just be sure to return it before your departure!" And with that, thrust a book into Alaine's hands, and shooed them both out.

Bound in a vegetable fibre cloth, the book had clearly been read many times. Inside the writing was in Standard on alternate pages, and the local language on the others. Just like the signs. Hopefully it would shed some light on everything.

The first two pages started "Log entry - Scout Lorn aboard Gremlin" followed by a date and the coordinates of this system. The date was over two hundred and fifty years ago. "Initial survey detects no radio transmissions, a chlorophyll biosphere, and no mass hydrocarbon emissions. Closing for mapping survey."

Why had the archivist given them this?

"Alaine?" came a voice. He looked up - it was Dyani.
"Yeah?"
"Why was he dressed the same way as Seeker?"
Alaine did not have an answer. Yet.

#SFF #SF #SciFi #microfic #tootfic #microfiction #IAmWriting #ShamanSpace

Pruning shears

'Welcome to our lessons in close quarter zombie fighting. Today: How to use pruning shears. The method is simple: as soon as some part of the zombie is close enough, you snip it. After a certain time, the zombie will stop.'

#writever #MastoArt #FlashFiction #SmallStory #TootFic #MicroFiction