N3v3rM0r3
Ezekiel
Pizza Box
RPM
Hos
rush99999
tadcfnaf
Syrenrei
Zeus23-399
Penny Member
STATUS: Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad. 17 days ago
Status
Recent Statuses
17 days ago
Current
Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad.
3
likes
25 days ago
She wanted to read, she wanted to write, but the main thing she wanted was something to fight
4
likes
1 yr ago
Make it clear that you don't need him to be reading Dante tomorrow. Also suggest it would be fun if you had a private language that you could use to mock English speakers in secret.
5
likes
2 yrs ago
Luckily history suggests an infinite ability for people to be shit heads ;)
1
like
3 yrs ago
Achmed the Snake
1
like
Bio
Early 30's. I know just enough about everything to be dangerous.
Most Recent Posts
@Fetzen No problem. There will always be room for you if you change your mind!
For a time it seemed as though Sayeeda’s concerns might be for nothing. The little convey rumbled along the valley floor raising a pall of dust that was blown behind them by the desert wind. There was no proper road but the path had evidently been traveled enough to pack the earth into a functional road.
“Keep your eyes open,” Junebug advised Taya, “Watch particularly high ground that isn’t a peak, snipers prefer not to be at the absolute pinnacle of a formation.” Taya nodded looking keyed up as though an enemy force might appear on the ridgeline at any moment. There was no cure for a green soldier other than to see action but Junebug would feel better once the girl learned the trick of settling down and keeping calm till it dropped in the pot.
“Do you think it is likely there will be an attack?” Taya asked. Junebug shook her head. It wasn’t very likely if they were using soft skins like this. She and Neil could have taken out the whole convoy without difficulty if that had been their goal. The windshield shattered a moment before they heard the rifle report and a round spanged off the engine block with a metallic shriek. There were shouts of concern from the other cars and gun fire ripped from a half dozen sources at as many different targets as their were gunmen in the convoy. Neil slammed his foot on the accelerator as Junebug rose into a shooting stance, swinging her rifle towards the carrot the AI had thrown up for the muzzle flash, no where near where the gangsters were firing as it turned out. She sighted but didn’t fire as the sniper had already ducked back into cover. She kept her weapon trained for several seconds but the shooter didn’t reappear.
“New guys get up here!” Miguel shouted as his car swerved close to them, kicking a storm of dust and grit over them that prickled at Junebug’s skin.
“We are already up here,” Junebug shouted. Miguel gestured violently in the general direction of the ridge.
“Get up there and take care of that shooter!” he shrieked, clearly panicked despite the fact it wasn’t his car that had been hit. Junebug arched an eyebrow and then shrugged her shoulders.
“You got it boss,” she drawled. Neil gunned the engine, swerving in front of Miguel’s car and spraying a rooster tail of dust over the gangsters car to curses and shouts. One of the thugs fired randomly in their direction. Junebug stood, turned and fired back, the optics on her helmet allowing her to put a shot within six inches of the mans head, he dropped his gun and slapped his hands over his ears.
“Goddess damned amateurs,” she groused as they raced up to the base of the ridge. Neil wove in slow zig zags as she watched with her rifle up. Taya gripped her weapon and scanned the ridge, her finger on the trigger.
“Pull it up next to that path,” she told Neil, pointing to a sloping track that snaked its way up the rocky side of the valley. Neil complied, sliding into the spot so that he had maximum acceleration away from the rise.
“You wan’t me?” Neil asked.
“Yes, but not for this,” she teased before turning and nodding to Taya.
“Your up, stay behind me and don’t shoot until I do,” she instructed, jumping out of the car and jogging towards the path.
“You got it Sayeeda,” the younger woman replied.
“Don’t go too far but get some distance incase anyone gets an idea with a grenade,” she told Neil. The two women ascended the cliff in a series of tactical hops, covering each other as they scrambled up over rocks. To Sayeeda’s amazement the rest of the convoy was already moving on. That wasn’t a bad thing, but it was better organization than she gave the Scorpions credit for. They had nearly reached the top when the motion detector pinged and gave a read out. Sayeeda pulled a grenade from her pocket and pulled the pin then tossed it up over the large boulder that blocked the way forward. There was a flat crump of detonation and then Junebug was around the rock gun up. Taya was a step behind her keyed up and ready to shoot. Junebug slapped the younger woman’s weapon up and the rifle fired into the sky. Clutching his ears was a boy, maybe thirteen years old, he had evaded the grenade blast and was scrambling for his dropped rifle. Junebug stepped forward and kicked the rifle away. The boy screamed and lunged at her, his eyes wide with fear and hate. Junebug caught him by the front of the shirt and slammed him against a boulder.
“Easy kid,” she cautioned the boy who continued to scrabble at her arm and kick at her armored chest.
“I’ll kill you!” the boy snarled, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes.
“Yeah shit maybe, you hit our car with that piece of shit rifle from this range, pretty bad ass,” she admitted. The child stilled, confused by the compliment and scared out of his wits.
“But not today,” she told him setting him down.
“Why are you up here shooting at us?” she asked, sitting down on a nearby boulder.
“Those animals killed my father, because he wouldn’t grow their drugs!” the kid yelled before beginning to cry. Junebug and Taya exchanged looks.
“I see,” Junebug said, her face hard as granite. She sat silent for a long minute, the quiet broken only by the distant rumble of engines.
“You ok babe?” Neil asked over the radio, jolting her out of her ponderings.
“Yeah, we are coming down,” she replied, pausing for a moment before making a decision.
“Get your gun kid,” she told the boy, indicating the gun, “we will give you a ride home.”
“Keep your eyes open,” Junebug advised Taya, “Watch particularly high ground that isn’t a peak, snipers prefer not to be at the absolute pinnacle of a formation.” Taya nodded looking keyed up as though an enemy force might appear on the ridgeline at any moment. There was no cure for a green soldier other than to see action but Junebug would feel better once the girl learned the trick of settling down and keeping calm till it dropped in the pot.
“Do you think it is likely there will be an attack?” Taya asked. Junebug shook her head. It wasn’t very likely if they were using soft skins like this. She and Neil could have taken out the whole convoy without difficulty if that had been their goal. The windshield shattered a moment before they heard the rifle report and a round spanged off the engine block with a metallic shriek. There were shouts of concern from the other cars and gun fire ripped from a half dozen sources at as many different targets as their were gunmen in the convoy. Neil slammed his foot on the accelerator as Junebug rose into a shooting stance, swinging her rifle towards the carrot the AI had thrown up for the muzzle flash, no where near where the gangsters were firing as it turned out. She sighted but didn’t fire as the sniper had already ducked back into cover. She kept her weapon trained for several seconds but the shooter didn’t reappear.
“New guys get up here!” Miguel shouted as his car swerved close to them, kicking a storm of dust and grit over them that prickled at Junebug’s skin.
“We are already up here,” Junebug shouted. Miguel gestured violently in the general direction of the ridge.
“Get up there and take care of that shooter!” he shrieked, clearly panicked despite the fact it wasn’t his car that had been hit. Junebug arched an eyebrow and then shrugged her shoulders.
“You got it boss,” she drawled. Neil gunned the engine, swerving in front of Miguel’s car and spraying a rooster tail of dust over the gangsters car to curses and shouts. One of the thugs fired randomly in their direction. Junebug stood, turned and fired back, the optics on her helmet allowing her to put a shot within six inches of the mans head, he dropped his gun and slapped his hands over his ears.
“Goddess damned amateurs,” she groused as they raced up to the base of the ridge. Neil wove in slow zig zags as she watched with her rifle up. Taya gripped her weapon and scanned the ridge, her finger on the trigger.
“Pull it up next to that path,” she told Neil, pointing to a sloping track that snaked its way up the rocky side of the valley. Neil complied, sliding into the spot so that he had maximum acceleration away from the rise.
“You wan’t me?” Neil asked.
“Yes, but not for this,” she teased before turning and nodding to Taya.
“Your up, stay behind me and don’t shoot until I do,” she instructed, jumping out of the car and jogging towards the path.
“You got it Sayeeda,” the younger woman replied.
“Don’t go too far but get some distance incase anyone gets an idea with a grenade,” she told Neil. The two women ascended the cliff in a series of tactical hops, covering each other as they scrambled up over rocks. To Sayeeda’s amazement the rest of the convoy was already moving on. That wasn’t a bad thing, but it was better organization than she gave the Scorpions credit for. They had nearly reached the top when the motion detector pinged and gave a read out. Sayeeda pulled a grenade from her pocket and pulled the pin then tossed it up over the large boulder that blocked the way forward. There was a flat crump of detonation and then Junebug was around the rock gun up. Taya was a step behind her keyed up and ready to shoot. Junebug slapped the younger woman’s weapon up and the rifle fired into the sky. Clutching his ears was a boy, maybe thirteen years old, he had evaded the grenade blast and was scrambling for his dropped rifle. Junebug stepped forward and kicked the rifle away. The boy screamed and lunged at her, his eyes wide with fear and hate. Junebug caught him by the front of the shirt and slammed him against a boulder.
“Easy kid,” she cautioned the boy who continued to scrabble at her arm and kick at her armored chest.
“I’ll kill you!” the boy snarled, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes.
“Yeah shit maybe, you hit our car with that piece of shit rifle from this range, pretty bad ass,” she admitted. The child stilled, confused by the compliment and scared out of his wits.
“But not today,” she told him setting him down.
“Why are you up here shooting at us?” she asked, sitting down on a nearby boulder.
“Those animals killed my father, because he wouldn’t grow their drugs!” the kid yelled before beginning to cry. Junebug and Taya exchanged looks.
“I see,” Junebug said, her face hard as granite. She sat silent for a long minute, the quiet broken only by the distant rumble of engines.
“You ok babe?” Neil asked over the radio, jolting her out of her ponderings.
“Yeah, we are coming down,” she replied, pausing for a moment before making a decision.
“Get your gun kid,” she told the boy, indicating the gun, “we will give you a ride home.”
-397
*Four Hours Later*
"I don't care what you say bitch, this is how we do it on Tiosinte. The Widow might say you are on this run but I am in charge here!" Miguel snarled, his eyes wide with rage. Judging from the boozy sweat oozing out of the swarthy gangsters pores, he had been hitting the bottle pretty hard the previous night and doubtlessly his hangover was not improving his mood. Junebug rolled her eyes and hopped down off the skirting of the six wheeled jeep walking back to a similar vehicle where Neil and Taya sat sweating. It was nearly midday and the scorching sun beat down relentlessly casting almost no shadows over the sunbaked landscape. They stood at the top of a shallow rocky valley, atwart a dusty road that stretched nearly twenty kilometers back to the city. THe buildings were invisible now in the heat haze and dust, though the distant crack of a starship sinking towards the port drifted over the desert.
"They aren't going to listen to me," Junebug told Neil as she climbed into the passenger seat of the jeep, unslinging her rifle and thrusting it butt down into a holding clamp between driver and passenger. She took a canteen of water from Neil and drank greedily before screwing the cap back in place and wiping her lips with the back of her hand. The approach that Miguel and the other score of toughs 'always' took was a poor one. The walls of the valley constricted movement and provided cover for snipers and ambushes in the rocky hillsides. The convoy consisted of six escort vehicles, three jeeps and three flat bed trucks with pintle mounts welded to the frame to mount heavy machine guns, and in one case, a reconciles rifle. Beyond that were three tankers, rusted and dilapidated things that carried the ethanol matrix that was used to transport the drug to market. Given the vulnerability of the tankers to even small arms fire, Junebug had to imagine that either attacks were rare, or the attackers were more interested in stealing the trucks than they were in destroying them.
"Yeah well I didn't think they would," Neil admitted, puffing on the cigar between his lips. Junebug took it from him and took a drag herself before passing it back.
"Are we really going to work with these assholes Junebug?" Taya all but whined. She was dressed in a set of Sayeeda's fatigues and carried a squat but powerful automatic rifle. During their training sessions on the Highlander she had performed well with the weapon though JUnebug was privately skeptical that she would be able to control her excitement if a real firefight broke out. She was uncomfortable with Taya being along at all, she was learning fast but she wasn't a soldier in the sense that she and Neil were. It might have been better to have her return to the Highlander and to bring Saxon, but she preferred to keep the Hex in reserve and hell, everyone had to cut their teeth someplace. It might as well be against yokels who couldn't hit the broad side of barn.
"A deal is a deal," Junebug responded, though her voice lacked any emotion whatever. People who hired mercenaries were very rarely people Junebug could personally like. It was part of the job that everyone had to get used to sooner or later. The universe could be an ugly place, and odds were, if you picked a life that centered around killing people for money, you weren't much of a prize yourself.
"They aren't even paying us," Taya bitched, lifting a set of binoculars to her head and scanning the ridge lines.
"Not in credits anyway," Junebug responded enigmatically. Taya opened her mouth to ask what Junebug meant by that but before she could do so Miguel shouted something and the jeep kicked up dust as it began its way down into the pointlessly exposed valley. The remaing vehicles of the convoy stirred to life, diesel engines roaring as they crested the slight lip and began the decent. According to Miguel the village they were delivering this stuff to was at the end of the valley, where a shallow river allowed enough irrigation for growing. Junebug slipped her helmet onto her head and keyed a patrol preset that carroted movement and threat. It wouldn't be great without a more sophisticated sensor package to tie into but it was probably better than nothing. She pulled her rifle from the clamp and laid it across her lap.
"Keep your eyes open," she advised as her dust filters clamped into place to stop her inhaling a lung full of grit and sand.
"I don't care what you say bitch, this is how we do it on Tiosinte. The Widow might say you are on this run but I am in charge here!" Miguel snarled, his eyes wide with rage. Judging from the boozy sweat oozing out of the swarthy gangsters pores, he had been hitting the bottle pretty hard the previous night and doubtlessly his hangover was not improving his mood. Junebug rolled her eyes and hopped down off the skirting of the six wheeled jeep walking back to a similar vehicle where Neil and Taya sat sweating. It was nearly midday and the scorching sun beat down relentlessly casting almost no shadows over the sunbaked landscape. They stood at the top of a shallow rocky valley, atwart a dusty road that stretched nearly twenty kilometers back to the city. THe buildings were invisible now in the heat haze and dust, though the distant crack of a starship sinking towards the port drifted over the desert.
"They aren't going to listen to me," Junebug told Neil as she climbed into the passenger seat of the jeep, unslinging her rifle and thrusting it butt down into a holding clamp between driver and passenger. She took a canteen of water from Neil and drank greedily before screwing the cap back in place and wiping her lips with the back of her hand. The approach that Miguel and the other score of toughs 'always' took was a poor one. The walls of the valley constricted movement and provided cover for snipers and ambushes in the rocky hillsides. The convoy consisted of six escort vehicles, three jeeps and three flat bed trucks with pintle mounts welded to the frame to mount heavy machine guns, and in one case, a reconciles rifle. Beyond that were three tankers, rusted and dilapidated things that carried the ethanol matrix that was used to transport the drug to market. Given the vulnerability of the tankers to even small arms fire, Junebug had to imagine that either attacks were rare, or the attackers were more interested in stealing the trucks than they were in destroying them.
"Yeah well I didn't think they would," Neil admitted, puffing on the cigar between his lips. Junebug took it from him and took a drag herself before passing it back.
"Are we really going to work with these assholes Junebug?" Taya all but whined. She was dressed in a set of Sayeeda's fatigues and carried a squat but powerful automatic rifle. During their training sessions on the Highlander she had performed well with the weapon though JUnebug was privately skeptical that she would be able to control her excitement if a real firefight broke out. She was uncomfortable with Taya being along at all, she was learning fast but she wasn't a soldier in the sense that she and Neil were. It might have been better to have her return to the Highlander and to bring Saxon, but she preferred to keep the Hex in reserve and hell, everyone had to cut their teeth someplace. It might as well be against yokels who couldn't hit the broad side of barn.
"A deal is a deal," Junebug responded, though her voice lacked any emotion whatever. People who hired mercenaries were very rarely people Junebug could personally like. It was part of the job that everyone had to get used to sooner or later. The universe could be an ugly place, and odds were, if you picked a life that centered around killing people for money, you weren't much of a prize yourself.
"They aren't even paying us," Taya bitched, lifting a set of binoculars to her head and scanning the ridge lines.
"Not in credits anyway," Junebug responded enigmatically. Taya opened her mouth to ask what Junebug meant by that but before she could do so Miguel shouted something and the jeep kicked up dust as it began its way down into the pointlessly exposed valley. The remaing vehicles of the convoy stirred to life, diesel engines roaring as they crested the slight lip and began the decent. According to Miguel the village they were delivering this stuff to was at the end of the valley, where a shallow river allowed enough irrigation for growing. Junebug slipped her helmet onto her head and keyed a patrol preset that carroted movement and threat. It wouldn't be great without a more sophisticated sensor package to tie into but it was probably better than nothing. She pulled her rifle from the clamp and laid it across her lap.
"Keep your eyes open," she advised as her dust filters clamped into place to stop her inhaling a lung full of grit and sand.
-395
Annika stood slowly, fighting the grimace of pain that her still recovering wounds tried to twist her face into. She was pleased to see Orion whole and well, even if she knew that it must be so. She lay a hand on the thief's shoulder and Logan flinched as though it were heated, an unfortunate reaction but not unexpected.
"This is Logan Christopher," she said truthfully, earning another wince from the thief as she revealed his true name. It was unlikely that anyone on this far side of the planet could connect him with an escape from judgement a half a world away. Regaining his composure he tugged his forelock to Orion and the Mother Superior.
"Sir, Your Holiness," he mumbled, shuffling his feet.
"I heard his confession before I was asked to join Sir Pentecost on this quest," she went on, shading the truth very slightly, "I had not yet had a chance to deliberate on an appropriate penance when I was called away." The Mother Superior arched her eyebrow at that.
"And what are his sins Daughter?" she asked sternly. Annika's face hardened ever so slightly.
"His sins are between him and the Pancreator," she replied sternly. The Mother Superior blinked and then looked slightly embarrassed, probably at having appeared to have misrepresented the Omega Gospel more than for the fact she had asked such a personal question.
"Quite," the older woman said austerely, "and what of his penance, that you may discuss with an Ecclesiastical Superior and I order you to do so." The Sanctuary Aeon was letting it known that she wouldn't be brooked in her own halls by a cleric several levels her junior and of a different order besides.
"He is to make a pilgrimage to the Gargoyle of Nowhere and seek the Pancreators forgiveness." She hadn't finished the sentence before the world 'What?!' was shouted at her from various directions, not least from Christopher himself who turned to stare at her as though she was insane. Such an act would have been more appropriate for patricide than simple larceny.
"Sister Annika..." the Mother Superior began but closed her mouth rather than continue the discussion. Now that the pronouncement had been made she had no authority to countermand it and beside what skin of her teeth was it if an Estakonic started doling out impossible penances?
"I have taken into account the fact that he chose to enter your convent uninvited," she added dryly, figuring that sin at least was public enough not to be protected by a penitents privilege.
"This is Logan Christopher," she said truthfully, earning another wince from the thief as she revealed his true name. It was unlikely that anyone on this far side of the planet could connect him with an escape from judgement a half a world away. Regaining his composure he tugged his forelock to Orion and the Mother Superior.
"Sir, Your Holiness," he mumbled, shuffling his feet.
"I heard his confession before I was asked to join Sir Pentecost on this quest," she went on, shading the truth very slightly, "I had not yet had a chance to deliberate on an appropriate penance when I was called away." The Mother Superior arched her eyebrow at that.
"And what are his sins Daughter?" she asked sternly. Annika's face hardened ever so slightly.
"His sins are between him and the Pancreator," she replied sternly. The Mother Superior blinked and then looked slightly embarrassed, probably at having appeared to have misrepresented the Omega Gospel more than for the fact she had asked such a personal question.
"Quite," the older woman said austerely, "and what of his penance, that you may discuss with an Ecclesiastical Superior and I order you to do so." The Sanctuary Aeon was letting it known that she wouldn't be brooked in her own halls by a cleric several levels her junior and of a different order besides.
"He is to make a pilgrimage to the Gargoyle of Nowhere and seek the Pancreators forgiveness." She hadn't finished the sentence before the world 'What?!' was shouted at her from various directions, not least from Christopher himself who turned to stare at her as though she was insane. Such an act would have been more appropriate for patricide than simple larceny.
"Sister Annika..." the Mother Superior began but closed her mouth rather than continue the discussion. Now that the pronouncement had been made she had no authority to countermand it and beside what skin of her teeth was it if an Estakonic started doling out impossible penances?
"I have taken into account the fact that he chose to enter your convent uninvited," she added dryly, figuring that sin at least was public enough not to be protected by a penitents privilege.
"Well that was productive," Rene said feeling positive as they stepped out of the shop and into the balmy afternoon air. It wasn't cold exactly but the large expanses of ocean meant that there was always at least a moderate wind blowing. Judging by their architecture, which was frequently open enough to permit breezes, the Kalderi preferred it that way. Some humans probably did too but Rene found that he preferred both the alpine cold of Capella and the tropical heat of New Concordia to Ranal Pindi's slightly damp gusts. The Trading quarter was nestled at the foot of the rocky plateau upon which the Kalderi city stood. The shoulders of great cliffs protected the settlement from the periodic storms and sloped downwards into the arms of a natural embayment several hundred meters across. The two peninsulas had been joined by the construction of a sea wall and the resulting lagoon had been almost completely filled in with some sort of whitish concrete with perhaps a meter of water covering the surface. The resulting disc served as the starports landing surface, the water absorbing the heat and various unpleasant compounds a human starship made when it landed. The resulting system meant that water boiled upon landing and was then flushed with fresh seawater while the heated effluent was cooled in long column that sank into the ocean. Colorful tropical coral and fish species clustered around the ready source of heat, making the far side of the sea wall colorful and exotic whilst draining away chemicals that the Kalderi above the port would have found unpleasant. It did mean that the traders operating here had to run small raised walkways out to their vessels or risk it getting wet but trading here was a privilege and Rene seriously doubted it was too much of a problem. It wasn’t as though they were loading industrial equipment or other heavy cargo afterall. The mole itself had been planted with trees that must have been a tropical variety. They were similar to Terran palms save for the fact that their leaves were long, slender crystalline needles. Rene made a mental note to walk along the mole with Solae when the sun got a little lower.
The settlement itself was small consisting of three streets that climbed the steep rising rockface in terraces. Simple but pleasantly painted warehouses lined the shallow waterfront of the starport while more artfully appointed shops comprised the second and third rings. While the shops had probably started out as normal human architecture, they had been ‘improved’ over time so that they now looked to be a hybrid of human and Kalderi aesthetics. Access to the upper plateau was restricted to a single elevator which used static suspension rather than a traditional cable to slide up the side of a smoothed out section of stone. A small area, set off by intricately wrought stone fencing and guarded by a pair of Kalderi prevented humans, or at least most humans, from ascending to the city above.
“It shouldn’t be too difficult to compile a list of unsurveyed worlds within the jump range of whatever ship it was Bouradine was using,” Rene mused, figuring it unlikely that the trader’s source was too far beyond that.
“Sir Rene, there are thirty one star systems that would be within the range of a Talian 121B class freighter,” Mia chirped over the communicator he wore on his epilauet. Rene frowned, something tickling his memory. Mia had been tasked with compiling a list of all human shipping during the period they were interested in and had evidently managed to break into the information without any assistance from her human patrons.
“Talian class?” he asked. It had been a fairly common ship at one point, but age and the increasing cost of maintenance had made them significantly rarer over the past decade.
“Master Gregorie Bouradine is the owner and captain of the Talian 121B Class, registry number 1923942-A, registry name Corsica,” Mia provided helpfully. Rene felt his stomach drop out from under him, remembering the derelict vessel they had come across during their flight from Zatis to Ranal Pindi.
“Stars above,” he cursed, trying to imagine how the Kalderi might take the news if Bel’sian had starved to death on a derelict human spacecraft. There might be nothing that would prove this hadn’t been an abduction.
“They might both be dead,” he muttered grimly.
The settlement itself was small consisting of three streets that climbed the steep rising rockface in terraces. Simple but pleasantly painted warehouses lined the shallow waterfront of the starport while more artfully appointed shops comprised the second and third rings. While the shops had probably started out as normal human architecture, they had been ‘improved’ over time so that they now looked to be a hybrid of human and Kalderi aesthetics. Access to the upper plateau was restricted to a single elevator which used static suspension rather than a traditional cable to slide up the side of a smoothed out section of stone. A small area, set off by intricately wrought stone fencing and guarded by a pair of Kalderi prevented humans, or at least most humans, from ascending to the city above.
“It shouldn’t be too difficult to compile a list of unsurveyed worlds within the jump range of whatever ship it was Bouradine was using,” Rene mused, figuring it unlikely that the trader’s source was too far beyond that.
“Sir Rene, there are thirty one star systems that would be within the range of a Talian 121B class freighter,” Mia chirped over the communicator he wore on his epilauet. Rene frowned, something tickling his memory. Mia had been tasked with compiling a list of all human shipping during the period they were interested in and had evidently managed to break into the information without any assistance from her human patrons.
“Talian class?” he asked. It had been a fairly common ship at one point, but age and the increasing cost of maintenance had made them significantly rarer over the past decade.
“Master Gregorie Bouradine is the owner and captain of the Talian 121B Class, registry number 1923942-A, registry name Corsica,” Mia provided helpfully. Rene felt his stomach drop out from under him, remembering the derelict vessel they had come across during their flight from Zatis to Ranal Pindi.
“Stars above,” he cursed, trying to imagine how the Kalderi might take the news if Bel’sian had starved to death on a derelict human spacecraft. There might be nothing that would prove this hadn’t been an abduction.
“They might both be dead,” he muttered grimly.
© 2007-2026