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Authors: Blaze Ward
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and the other covering the “rear.”
The strange human was approaching slowly, quietly. He wore robes made of a rough, homespun cotton, probably locally grown from seedstock, and carried a walking stick.
She bounced the flitter–ship up higher for a better view and scanned everything once, and then dropped down close.
Finally, she might get some answers.
Ξ
Javier considered the dead freighter. Definitely came in too hot. Looks like it tore off a landing skid on that rock, which dropped the bow into the ground at speed, which cracked her spine there and there. Probably one you walked away from, unless your number had come up.
Reactor was definitely on–line, banked to minimum load. Heat and light leaked out of an open hatch and the cooling fins were well above ambient temperature.
Somebody lived here. A field of human crops close to harvest. A small drying shed filled with…stuff. Dunno what else to call it. A path down to the stream below. Homey. Javier could see himself living here and enjoying the place. Clean air. No people. Paradise.
That’s not a bear .
Good thing Suvi was on the job.
Might as well start the fun. “Sykora,” he said. “Company.”
Javier watched the armed lunatics go into full combat mode. This was why he was a civilian now. That kind of thinking was just bad. Desperately anti–social.
Sykora was the worst. “Where?” She was probably planning a firefight right about now.
Javier really needed some coffee.
He turned to his right, and waved, “Good morning.”
Behind him, he was pretty sure he could hear teeth grind. “What are you doing, Aritza?” Ogre lady snarled at him. A moment later, “Flip.”
Great, now she was standing next to him, hovering over his shoulder, big honking war machine ready to lay the smack–down.
I got out of bed this morning for this?
Javier pointed. “A guy. The survivor, I’m guessing. And we’re in his front yard, so maybe we should be nice to him?”
Javier slid out of reach and stepped forward. Good old–fashioned Biblical Patriarch stepped into view, complete with a beard to his waist and the sort of stick Moses carried in every video Javier’d ever seen of Exodus. In a dark alley, he might be scary. Here? Faced by a small army? Harmless.
“I’m Javier,” he addressed the newcomer. “We saw your signal. Took a while. You are most definitely in the middle of absolutely nowhere.”
The man considered him silently. Which made sense. Javier had months where the only person he talked to besides the chickens was Suvi. The old man might have forgotten how to talk. Or, maybe he spoke something really obscure and didn’t grok.
What the hell. Javier reached into his pack and pulled out a bar of dried fruit and oats. He opened the bar and held it out as a peace offering. “Food?”
A hand descended from the heavens and drug him back a step before the man moved. Javier hadn’t forgotten how strong Sykora was. But, man…
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Aritza?”
Javier turned. Nobody was sneaking up on these people, so he could ignore the guy. “Diplomacy, lady,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “Being nice. It’s the part of negotiations that doesn’t involve shooting people.”
She was back to staring daggers. “I’m in charge here.” That tone might have put an edge on a dull knife.
Fine . “Fine,” Javier said. What the hell. He plopped down, crossed his legs, and took a bite of the bar. Let the gun bunny sort it out.
She snarled down at him. “Now what are you doing?” Javier noted that at no point did the barrel ever waver from dead–center on the new guy. Pissed, she might be. Deadly, without a doubt.
“You’re in charge, Sykora,” he snarled back, only a little less hostile. “Do it your way.”
Ξ
Yes, that was the way of things, Lemuel thought. The Harlot was not suited to lead. She knew only violence or seduction. Not the ways of Men. Here, She was surrounded by sycophants, but for
The strange human was approaching slowly, quietly. He wore robes made of a rough, homespun cotton, probably locally grown from seedstock, and carried a walking stick.
She bounced the flitter–ship up higher for a better view and scanned everything once, and then dropped down close.
Finally, she might get some answers.
Ξ
Javier considered the dead freighter. Definitely came in too hot. Looks like it tore off a landing skid on that rock, which dropped the bow into the ground at speed, which cracked her spine there and there. Probably one you walked away from, unless your number had come up.
Reactor was definitely on–line, banked to minimum load. Heat and light leaked out of an open hatch and the cooling fins were well above ambient temperature.
Somebody lived here. A field of human crops close to harvest. A small drying shed filled with…stuff. Dunno what else to call it. A path down to the stream below. Homey. Javier could see himself living here and enjoying the place. Clean air. No people. Paradise.
That’s not a bear .
Good thing Suvi was on the job.
Might as well start the fun. “Sykora,” he said. “Company.”
Javier watched the armed lunatics go into full combat mode. This was why he was a civilian now. That kind of thinking was just bad. Desperately anti–social.
Sykora was the worst. “Where?” She was probably planning a firefight right about now.
Javier really needed some coffee.
He turned to his right, and waved, “Good morning.”
Behind him, he was pretty sure he could hear teeth grind. “What are you doing, Aritza?” Ogre lady snarled at him. A moment later, “Flip.”
Great, now she was standing next to him, hovering over his shoulder, big honking war machine ready to lay the smack–down.
I got out of bed this morning for this?
Javier pointed. “A guy. The survivor, I’m guessing. And we’re in his front yard, so maybe we should be nice to him?”
Javier slid out of reach and stepped forward. Good old–fashioned Biblical Patriarch stepped into view, complete with a beard to his waist and the sort of stick Moses carried in every video Javier’d ever seen of Exodus. In a dark alley, he might be scary. Here? Faced by a small army? Harmless.
“I’m Javier,” he addressed the newcomer. “We saw your signal. Took a while. You are most definitely in the middle of absolutely nowhere.”
The man considered him silently. Which made sense. Javier had months where the only person he talked to besides the chickens was Suvi. The old man might have forgotten how to talk. Or, maybe he spoke something really obscure and didn’t grok.
What the hell. Javier reached into his pack and pulled out a bar of dried fruit and oats. He opened the bar and held it out as a peace offering. “Food?”
A hand descended from the heavens and drug him back a step before the man moved. Javier hadn’t forgotten how strong Sykora was. But, man…
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Aritza?”
Javier turned. Nobody was sneaking up on these people, so he could ignore the guy. “Diplomacy, lady,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “Being nice. It’s the part of negotiations that doesn’t involve shooting people.”
She was back to staring daggers. “I’m in charge here.” That tone might have put an edge on a dull knife.
Fine . “Fine,” Javier said. What the hell. He plopped down, crossed his legs, and took a bite of the bar. Let the gun bunny sort it out.
She snarled down at him. “Now what are you doing?” Javier noted that at no point did the barrel ever waver from dead–center on the new guy. Pissed, she might be. Deadly, without a doubt.
“You’re in charge, Sykora,” he snarled back, only a little less hostile. “Do it your way.”
Ξ
Yes, that was the way of things, Lemuel thought. The Harlot was not suited to lead. She knew only violence or seduction. Not the ways of Men. Here, She was surrounded by sycophants, but for
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