Malebolge
Synopsis
Planet 45T-348970, nicknamed 'Avalon', has been deemed worthy of colonization, and three seed ships have been sent out, carrying enough colonists and supplies to begin the process of creating a new home-world, millions of light years from where Earth once orbited the now dark sun. But tucked aboard one of the seed ships is the Rogue-Class starship Reynolds, and its three human occupants.
Captain Marick paid a lot of money to have the Reynolds smuggled on to the seedship, but he expects to make it back ten fold by extorting supplies and technology from the colonists, but when they get planetside...
Avalon is a tale of a space pirate, his crew, and the down right dirty side of the human race, but at the same time, can Marick see what needs to be done? And more importantly, can he do it?
Excerpt
“Good morning Captain,” a female voice greeted Marick, as the hiss of his cryo-chamber dulled. Rubbing his eyes, he found himself looking at Taerinia, with her mousy blonde hair and cold, blue eyes. Her long fingers held out a plain white ceramic cup.
He took the cup of dark, thick liquid that was offered him and downed it in one long pull. “One of these days, I’m gonna teach that machine how to make a proper drink ‘stead of this synthesized grain shit.” He coughed, and wiped the tears away from his burning eyes. “Damn the air stings.”
“It’ll pass. And it wouldn’t be so bad if you had put those drops in like I told you to before you went under.” Taerinia scolded, peering down here beak-like nose at him.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, what’s our status?” He asked as a short, bald man entered the room. Marick shuddered, “Damn, that’s still one of the creepiest things I’ve ever seen.”
“My name is still Harwick, and I’m an android sir, and I can hear you.” The man responded.
“Damn it! How many times have I told you not to call me sir?” Marick growled.
“Precisely two hundred and fifty eight.”
“And yet you still haven’t listened…” Marick replied through gritted teeth, his face turning red. He reached to his hip, searching for the laspistol he normally kept there and pulled his hand back cursing the android for not allowing him his weapon in the chamber.
“I’m sorry sir, but I could not find any relative data on how the chemicals would react with the plasma core of your weapon. I felt it in your best interest to be alive when we reached our destination.” Harwick explained as he watched the Captain flex his hand around an imaginary pistol grip.
“So, what’s the status?” Marick turned back to Taerinia, who had watched the entire exchange with a bemused expression on her face. It quickly melted away as she realized that the Captain was speaking to her.
“We launched from the seed ship Pinta about an hour ago, when they disengaged their warp drive.”
“I thought I told you to wake me when the Pinta exited warp,” Marick turned his anger again upon the android.
“You did, sir, but Taerinia told me that you were not needed for the launch.”
“And who is the Captain of The Reynolds?” Marick’s nostrils flared as he breathed.
“You are sir.”
“Stop calling me sir!” Marick shouted, his temper finally boiling over. He threw the mug he was still holding towards Harwick, and watched as it harmlessly smashed against the wall behind him.
“Calm down, I locked him in his cabin.” Taerinia said, walking over to an alcove in the far wall and pressing a button. Another cup, identical to the one the Captain had just broke, appeared in the cubby, full of the same liquid. “Drink this,” She handed the new drink to Marick, who drank it all.
“Why the hell does an android need a cabin? Does he have a bunk too?”
“Well sir, there was already one in the cabin, so yes, I do.”
“Harwick, you are not helping, can you go monitor the seed ships comms, make sure they haven’t spotted us?” Taerinia turned her focus back towards Harwick.
He turned to the captain, who nodded. Silently, Harwick left the room, leaving the two humans in peace.
“Get me another drink,” Marick demanded, swinging his legs off the side of the bed like platform he had until recently, slept in. He resisted the urge to throw his second cup of the day, remember what the ship dealer had told him about how the food replicator needed organic matter to work. He set the old cup down beside him and took the newly offered drink, and winced as he downed his third glass of what the ship considered alcohol.
