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.

Triptych: Origins (2015-02-22 drabble)

He grows up clambering over and jumping around shuttles in his grandmother’s garage. Between the ages of four to nine he is constantly covered in grease; no matter how thoroughly his parents try to clean him, there is always a smear of it on him somewhere. He wears overalls with a large pocket in the front, enough for three different kinds of wrenches, two kinds of screwdrivers, and a spool of wire, so that he can supply the mechanics under his grandmother’s employ with whatever they shout for. He only knows how to speak Standard fluently, but he can say “I’m a mechanic” and ask if a customer would like an oil change in three other languages by the time he is six. He has a good, if odd, childhood and he is happy.

And then his grandmother dies. It’s not too surprising–she was old, she had a penchant for alcohol, and she still tinkered around with tons of metal and explosive chemicals on a daily basis. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it shakes his nine-year old world. Suddenly the garage is no longer his kingdom and playground, it’s closed and sold, and suddenly his parents decide to move to Terra Secundo. Needless to say, it’s a terrible experience for him.

For a boy who grew up among space shuttles, whose entire existence up until that point had been contained within the network of space stations of The Lattice, being planetside is highly unpleasant. Having learned from the unfortunate fate of the first planet Earth, the Terran government were strict with what could be built on the planet—solar panels in the desert, wind turbines along the coast, sustainable farming and logging, and only one house was allowed per square acre. His parents embrace planet living, loving the natural surroundings and eager to have the space for a larger family. He finds it too quiet, too empty. He spends the next seven years staring at the night sky and yearning to go back. When he’s sixteen he joins his first Guild–Physics, one of the prerequisites for the Engineering Guild–and tries to rebuild the future he dreamt of as a child.


A/N: This is based in the universe of what was supposed to be my NaNoWriMo novel, had I not completely flaked out the first day of November after spending all of October outlining and world-building.

So above is some backstory for Edmundo Vasquez (god, I hope I am not besmirching a real person’s name) one of the main characters for Triptych: Origins