Triptych: Origins drabble (2016-01-05)

The three of them stood, bemused looks on their faces, as they stared at their coworkers linked bodies. There were handcuffs and ropes and, apparently, a large and elaborately woven net hanging from the trees which the natives of the planet used as their prisons.

Edmundo tried very hard not to laugh. Br’Joci didn’t bother holding it in.

“We have to untangle the knots,” Westerly said, eyeing the strategic points which would free their fellow SPANners, “After that, then we can do… Something.”

At that tepid conclusion, Edmundo also burst out laughing, “I thought you were going to say something cool!”

Br’Joci nodded in agreement, “It was almost profound.”

“I don’t know!” Westerly said, flustered, a bright green flush making its way over hir face, “The thought escaped me as I was saying it,” But zie smiled anyway, sheepish.

“Yeah, yeah, real hilarious,” one of the trapped SPANners, a Pakebi with brilliant rose colored fur, snarked, “It’s not like we’re tied up and hanging in a tree, totally uncomfortable.”

“Please get us down now,” added his partner, her own coat a rust orange.

“On it, on it,” Br’Joci muttered, pulling out a knife that was definitely not regulation. In a matter of moments, she had scaled the tree, crawling along the branch which the prison net was attached. On the ground, Edmundo and Westerly pulled out their blasters, forming a loose but wary perimeter around the tree trunk.

“Where’s your third?” Br’Joci asked the two captives, sawing away at the fibrous handcuffs around their wrists.

“Kempo retracted itself into its core. The natives have never seen a Dyur’un, so they assumed Kempo was part of our gear.”

“So we’ll have to do another rescue?” Westerly called up to them, following the conversation.

The Pakebi pair stare at each other, before the pink one shook his head, “Kempo should be able to escape on its own. We just have to get to the rendezvous point.”

“And where’s that?” Br’Joci asked, pulling them up onto the branch and guiding their climb down.

“About fifteen kilometers west,” the orange one said with a grimace, “On the other side of the mountains.”

As one, they all turned west, towards a steep, jagged mountain range that the locals named ‘Demon Spine’.

“That looks like fun.”

~

A/N: A tiny thing because I didn’t want yet another Missed Post, but I am on a bus and won’t get home or to my computer until after midnight so…

I’m frankly disappointed in myself, regarding this blog, especially my turn out this new year, even if I do have several legit reasons for not posting. I will endeavor to do better from now on.

Triptych: Origins drabble (2015-12-26)

“What is the population of your planet, anyway?” Edmundo asks, shuffling down the line with his tray and punching his meal choice into the cafeteria’s constructor unit.

“Moon,” Westerly corrects, a spot ahead of him, hir own tray laden down with gently steaming food, “The Qovesh live on three moons, not a planet.”

Br’Joci, following after Edmundo in the line, reaches one long arm around to rub her knuckles against Westerly–a gesture of praise and gratitude. “Afi, the moon I was born on, is the most populated; followed by Ari then Aki,” She explains, the cadence of her voice turning into a practiced lecture. “For Afi alone I think it’s about… maybe three or four hundred.”

“… Thousand?” Edmundo asks for clarification, following after Westerly to a mostly empty table, only a Pakebi pair-bond who seem to be already finished with their own meals.

“Billion,” Br’Joci corrects casually, like that single word hadn’t just blown Edmundo’s mind.

Given humanity’s own population restriction–the Lattice space stations having a maximum occupancy and the government limiting settlement on Terra Secundo–such a number seems impossible.

Westerly laughs–a trilling whistle which zie punctuates with several slaps to the table–no doubt at his wide-eyed, mouth agape expression.

“There’s a reason why most Qovesh-Afi join Guilds as soon as we turn of age,” Br’Joci shrugs, “We’re a nation of immigrant workers.”

~

A/N: just a thing from my original fic, I still hope to one day be able to write it in full, but it’s still beyond my abilities. so for now I will chisel away at it, slowly but surely.

Untitled (2015-03-10)

She is recruited into SPAN not long after being promoted from postulant to novice in the Biology Guild. She’s been at the artificer rank in both Cryptography-Coding and Security for the past few years, the former for three the latter for four. SPAN requires beings to be a part of two Guilds, they do prefer recruits to have an even wider array.

~

Approaching a target in order to achieve a desired objective is more of a science than an art. When you’re trying to get something you want, it’s best to make it a definitive transaction instead of something that can be held over your head in the future. Being desperate removes any leverage you might have had in negotiations. Instead, try making it seem like you’re doing them a favor with your desired objective being their payment.

~

This is not what you envisioned your life would be–a house-spouse to a man five years your junior, who you aren’t even technically married to, and surrogate parent to his adopted daughter who has a penchant for combining fashion and mechanics. What happened to you? What happened to that teenager who would run rampant all day long, pulling all-nighters for the hell of it, fighting with fists and words until you were free to do whatever you want?

But you realize, this is what you want. You love that goofball of a man and his eccentric daughter. You love cooking and keeping the small house in tip-top shape. You love not having every moment be full of drama and conflict, not having to carve out your place in the world with teeth and blood. You’re content, and it’s startling, but you like it.

~

A/N: None of these are related… but I couldn’t come up with a long enough cohesive drabble so… The first part is from my original fiction Triptych, the second is some lingering Burn Notice-inspired spycraft, the third is… I don’t even know.