Saving Cayn 3

Bypassing a gigantic beige door used by grav loaders,they entered through a personnel door, which squealed its objection to being opened. Inside were stacks of lumber, ranging from a meter in length up to ten meters. Width and breadth increased toward the far end of the building. Lannetay filled her lungs with the aroma of freshly cut material.

Marc gasped. “Wood! Olthan, I’ve never seen so much of it.”

Olthan nodded. “You’re Lunite, right? I seen lots of it.” He kept watching the guards as they entered the warehouse.

Lannetay smiled. Marc had grown up on Earth’s moon and had seen precious little of that sort of thing. Olthan’s colony had been feeding millions of people with their crops, and even had some groves for timber exports.

Gerid let the four visitors peruse the novelty for a half-minute as the guards took up positions inside to cover the traders. “This way, please.” She led them into an office set in the corner of the building. To the three guards she said, “You can all go about your business. These people won’t be a danger to me or the colony.”

After the office door closed, Gerid slid into the chair behind a diminutive desk. “We have product to export, Lanny.” She waved the four crew from William Placard to sit in the seats provided.

Lannetay noticed the workmanship on the stained and varnished wooden wing chairs. “Nice job, whoever crafted these seats.”

Gerid leaned back in her captain’s chair. Her smile turned expectant.

Lannetay was surprised when the wood behind Gerid looked like it “gave” a bit, so she checked her seat, subtly shifting her posture. Her chair back felt as if it formed to her body. In fact, it was all-around remarkably comfortable. Her eyes grew wide.

Gerid smiled. “You’ve noticed.”

“Noticed what?” Marc asked.

“These chairs, Marc.” Lannetay stood and peered at her seat. Though implants couldn’t match the ability of a hand scanner, her augmented eyes could detect many things. “How can that be? Wooden seats have been around for thousands of years. There’s no mechanism, there are no nanites to rearrange the material. How is that done?”

Gerid’s expression grew wary. “Proprietary information, I’m afraid. However, we have enough cut lumber to fill at least some of your cargo hold.” She waved toward the piles of wooden product on the other side of the wall.

“In exchange for?” Lannetay asked.

“We’d like to expand our current atmo wall by adding a Five-K ring.” Gerid leaned forward. “Do you have a Stage Two terraforming kit at a price we could afford? Then we could grow enough lumber to have regular exports sent out.”

“A Stage Two kit is expensive.” Lannetay wouldn’t object, exactly, but she needed to act the part of a trader. Most colonies would kill to get their hands on a kit to grow a Five-K ring.

“I know.” Gerid scowled. “We simply can’t make a good show of things without growing more trees, and most of our arable soil is growing the food we need. Wood takes time, and the process to make it conform to other shapes takes almost as long as growing the timber. The waiting for six months to grow a Five-K wall is nothing compared to the rest of it.”

Lannetay considered the proposed deal. She had the kit – dozens, in fact. The main question, however, was how far Gerid’s gratitude would follow. The crew’s main purpose was to recruit a spy in the Wanti hierarchy, but she needed friends before she was in a position to do so.

“Would you include a letter of introduction to someone in the Trade Ministry on Wrantiban?”

Gerid frowned. “Why would you want that?”

“I used to trade on Wrantiban itself. When hostilities began I lost my contacts there. I’d like to reopen trade.”

Gerid let silence linger long enough for Lannetay to suspect she’d overplayed her situation. Then Gerid’s gaze grew distant as if listening to a message on implants. She stood, knocking her chair backward. After a few seconds her eyes widened. “The governor’s son has been kidnapped.”

Olthan jumped to his feet. He unslung his rifle and looked around as if the kidnapper might be in the room.

Lannetay asked, “The Kio of Wrantiban?” Though she disliked the thought of separating children from parents, Kio Otmitter deserved everything horrible that could happen to him.

Gerid shook her head. “No, the new colonial governor who replaced me.”

Carnifor grimaced, but otherwise remained still. “Kidnapped? How?”

“This colony isn’t big enough for anyone to get away with it.”Lannetay scowled and crossed her arms.

Gerid’s eyes continued with the dreamy quality of someone receiving information on implants. “A ship left the planet. It’s heading toward a neighboring colony.”

Bill broke in. High-speed corvette, making more than three hundred c before it left scanning range.

Lannetay’s blood froze. Someone was taking a child out of the system, away from their parents. “Whatever we can do, we’ll do.”

Carnifor and Olthan both shot her a questioning glance.

We will do what we can, Carnifor.Lannetay was adamant about that. Even Wantis shouldn’t have their children kidnapped. Well, most Wantis, anyway. Besides, whatever the faults of the parent, the child should not be punished.

Gerid was obviously worried. “Could you retrieve Hyanto? The governor’s son?”

“Doesn’t the colony have a ship?” Carnifor asked. “William Placard is slow. Our top speed is barely over a hundred times the speed of light.”

Though she stood still, Gerid’s eyes flicked left and right, reviewing data only she could see. “The governor has a ship, but he’s off-planet on a trade mission. There are some in-system tugs and ore processors, but they don’t have interstellar capability. Yours is the only vessel with the ability.”

“I dare say your governor will be back soon.” Carnifor leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. We can’t, Lannetay, and there’s no need. This is not our problem.

We have to, Lannetay sent back. This is a child, and there’s nobody else close enough to do something right now. She stood and held a hand out for Marc to take. “We’ll get him back. If we can. Carny? Let’s get back to the ship. Gerid, send our ship the details. We’ll lift off right away.”

Marc took Lannetay’s hand for a moment, then let go as they left the office.

Olthan took up rear guard and kept scanning their surroundings.

The four marched across the gritty macadam back toward the William Placard.

Carnifor never paused in his carping. “We don’t even know where he is. How could you promise we’d do it? And why are you so adamant about helping out when it’s against regulations?”

Lannetay gritted her teeth at Carnifor’s diatribe, but didn’t break her rapid pace. “I promised we’d do what we could. And if a neighboring colony took Hyanto, we’ll have resources they don’t.”

“How do you know that?” Marc asked.

Carnifor gave the boy a condescending smile. “Your mom does her homework. There’s only one colony within ten light years that might kidnap a child from Herlorwis.”

“HIP 36985.” Lannetay signaled Bill to open the airlock as she walked up the boarding ramp. Gravity gradually increased from the half-normal colony pull to full-normal. She replaced her holster and racked her pistol.

“What?” Olthan asked. “It’s called what?” He kicked the side of the ramp, knocking the grit off his boots before stepping on.

Carnifor recited the designation. “HIP 36985. It’s a catalog number. The star doesn’t even have a name, much less the planet or the colony.”

Olthan set his rifle in the rack. “Let’s call it Cayn, s–.” He latched the storage cabinet and opened the one for his disrupter pistol.

Lannetay paused at the inner airlock. “Cain?”

Olthan shrugged. “My mom told me about Cain and Abel. The colony done somethin’ wrong. So, why not Cayn, with a Y? C-A-Y-N.”

Carnifor said, “We can’t name that colony, much less call it Cayn.”

“Why not?” Marc put his stunner back in its charging station and closed the locker. “I like Cayn.”

Bill interjected an explanation. “The Federated Union of Stars charter gives that right to the colony. Only they can name their own colony.”

“That charter hasn’t been ratified yet, much less adopted by HIP 36985.” Lannetay lead the way out of the airlock.

Bill asked, “The rest of you coming in, or do you plan on lingering there?”

Carnifor, Olthan, and Marc stepped through into the common area and Bill closed the hatches.

Lannetay headed for the control room, stepping around the chairs and tables others had left in the way. “Bill, get rid of these things. And set course for Cayn.”

Marc and Olthan both smiled.

Carnifor followed Lannetay across the room as unused furniture macrites dissolved back into the deck. Bill opened the hatch to the command center as Lannetay approached, and both stepped inside. Carnifor glanced over his shoulder at the hatch which didn’t close.

Lannetay took the left seat in front, Carnifor the right.

“Get clearance to lift, Bill.” Lannetay scanned readouts.

“We’ve already gotten the ‘okay.’ Gerid Meit called.”

“Then let’s go. Maximum safe speed as soon as we pass the atmo shield.”

The William Placard’s background hum intensified, and Lannetay sensed the ship lifting. The climb to the atmo shield took mere seconds, then Bill accelerated. A thin streamer of Herlorwian air followed them into space. When the star’s gravity well fell far enough behind, they passed light speed.

“One hundred twenty lights.” Bill announced their top speed as soon as they reached it.

L-T stepped into the control room and the hatch closed behind him. “One-twenty c? Can’t we go faster than that?”

Carnifor shot a questioning glance at the hatch, then raised an eyebrow at Lannetay. Getting no response, he answered L-T. “Not if we want our ship to remain intact. Our space frame is only rated for one-twenty. At interstellar distances, going slow isn’t something we’d do on purpose, Twunyesperinak.”

“Call me L-T, please. Nobody uses my given name.”

Before the two could exchange more words, Lannetay had Bill calculate their travel time. She said, “A little more than sixteen days to get to Cayn. I think you two could remain civil for that long, don’t you? Carny, why don’t you compose a report for our dear admiral?”

Privately, though Lannetay hated being under the thumb of the admiral, she had to admit she’d been given everything needed to accomplish the mission. Each colonization kit – even a small one – cost more than an average person would earn in their lifetime. And William Placard had scores of them tucked away in secret recesses. They’d have to be returned when Lannetay’s year of service ended, but she’d get to keep the ship. Along with the secret recesses.

If you're wondering more about these characters, their origins are detailed in Ebony Sea: Origins. If you appreciate this story, please share on social media, and consider supporting the author's ability to continue writing by purchasing the Origins story and leaving a review at the link above.

The Brotherhood (Part 3)

By Mark W. Meier

Act I

The Final Spell

Scene 3

Four assistants arrived the next day in a minivan from Bristol. Each of them would do anything necessary if enough money was offered.

My intangible existence allowed me a freedom you couldn’t anticipate, and the magick you’d learned was no hindrance to me. Runes designed to create barriers to spirits didn’t affect me. I watched for months as you practiced spells to dispel spirits in your secret work room, supposedly off limits to my kind.

Good. It was all very good. You practiced attacks and defenses against me, the most dangerous entity you’d ever met. You didn’t realize I’d never teach you anything which would work against me.

On one gray and overcast morning I said, “Let’s put all the parts together and do something impressive.”

You sneered at me across the seedbed of oregano you tended. “It’s about time. I’m nearly fifty years old, and haven’t learned much of anything.”

“Oh, but you have.” Reaching out with my skills I traced a line of dread along your spine. “All these lessons are only parts of a whole I will begin revealing.”

You shivered, but tried to hide it. “Like what?”

You’d been very patient – in fact, more patient than I’d expected. The time had arrived, though five full years later than average.

“It’s cloudy,and we’re nowhere near any busy air traffic corridors. How about we improve a bit on your fire spell?”

I walked through the greenhouse wall and waited outside for you. You’d long since given up being impressed by that trick, but I loved reminding you.

You snorted, then took off your gardening gloves, grabbed a jacket, and exited through the door. “What, light a fire in the air? That sounds about as useful as sinking a rock in a lake.”

Smiling, I pointed to your jacket pocket. “Take those twenty pebbles we’ve been working on for the last two weeks and place them on the ground in a circle about ten feet in diameter.”

You patted the outside of your windbreaker. Your eyes widened as you looked up at me.

“Yes, I put them there.” There were still things you didn’t know I could do. Among those was causing the gray overcast to turn darker and edge closer to the ground.

Dread seeped into your subconsciousness, heightened by the scent of ozone. Despite your unwillingness to comply with my instructions, you did as suggested.As you dropped the last bit of polished granite, I said, “Those stones will now tune magick– like a lens focusing light. They’ll amplify your ability, giving you more control. Now stand in the center of the circle.”

You hesitated to step into the lopsided circle you’d created. Hexes I’d taught you sprang to mind, but you entered – despite your fear. Once you were in the middle of the circle I pointed to the forbidding clouds overhead. “Cast your fire creation spell as high as you can.”

You uttered the incantation and pointed skyward. A moment later a conflagration exploded above the clouds, driving the sky cover back. A gap of blue opened up with a neat ball of yellow-orange fire in the center.

Gap-jawed, you looked on, getting an impressive sunburn in the process. Your arms fell in stunned disbelief as the explosion faded.

“That is what you’ve been working toward.”

A moment later I vanished, leaving you staring at the dwindling fireball.

***

“An unidentified explosion lit the sky outside Bristol, Wisconsin, this morning,” the TV news anchor read. A small picture-in-picture next to him showed a poorly-shot video of the flare as it died out.

“Cell phone video provided no clue as to the origin of the event, but experts assert this is a normal phenomenon at the end of a meteor’s plunge into Earth’s atmosphere. Channel 7 science reporter Jay Licht has more.”

I waved a hand and your gigantic flat screen turned off. Only old people used large televisions these days. Younger people watched everything on their cell phones.

You grimaced. “Hey, I want to hear about myself. It’s not every day a guy is on the news.”

I added a nearlyimperceptible bit of echo to my voice. “The story isn’t about you, it’s about the explosion.”

“Well, stop playing with my stuff,” you muttered, suddenly uneasy. “It makes me nervous.”

“You’re a wizard. I used to be one. Get used to things happening.”

You gestured, and the TV came back on.

The story ended. “From UW-Bristol, Jay Licht reporting.”

Cursing under your breath, you picked up a glass and placed it in your right palm. The glass then levitated, spinning on its axis as the talking head blathered about a new sports arena somewhere. It was inconsequential tripe, and I said so.

You ignored me.

“Why can I do this,” you said, referring to the rotating glass, “when it took those magic rocks to make the explosion?”

“Two reasons.” I pointed toward the rest of your twelve-glass set and they flew toward me – eleven missiles spinning and orbiting each other in the air. “First, now that you’ve opened yourself up to real magick, it’s much easier. Second, you’ve enchanted some of the nails in the sub-floor of your house. They form a circle, centered where you’re now sitting.”

You glowered at my display of skill andplucked your single glass from where it danced in the air. After smacking it to the countertop you stepped from your stool to face me. If I had a personal space, you’d be invading it.“I enchanted every nail in the sub-floor.”

I smiled, letting my teeth show a pair of canines slightly longer than expected. “Exactly. Wherever you stand in this house you’ll be near enough to a focal point for magick now.”

You turned away to find my glasses had settled into a pyramid surrounding yours. “I want to have a party.”

You didn’t know anyone well enough to invite to a party, so I agreed. “Excellent idea. You can provide the fireworks yourself, but you’ll have to practice a bit more first.”

“There’s a girl I met in town.” You sent all twelve glasses back to the cabinet where they belonged. “She reminds me of someone. I can’t think of who.” More than likely it was your mother. Humans.

I’d already heard about your “girlfriend” Caryn, and how she’d pushed a pamphlet into your hands on a street corner. Every single one of your people answered to me. “Your” bodyguard reported the encounter last week. But at forty-two, she could hardly be considered a “girl.”

“I want you to meet her.”

I laughed. After three visits for coffee and one lunch you wanted me to meet her. “She won’t be able to see me unless she has some skill at magick.” Since she was reported as a church-goer, I couldn’t get too close to her anyway.

“Maybe she can do magick.” You waved, and the television plug removed itself from the wall outlet. A commercial for some miracle cleaning product cut off in mid-sentence.

As a true believer, she wouldn’t want to learn magick. The only reason you did is because you’d left the church after your mother died. Magick was your substitute religion, and you wanted Caryn as your substitute mother.

“Maybe. When you’re done practicing your fireworks and planning your party, you can invite her.”

I could tell you grew suspicious, though you pretended to be mollified. I’d watched enough people like you that I could read you easier than a book. Some would confuse that skill with telepathy, but practice made it simple.

“I’ll do that.” Your eyes narrowed slightly. “She has a lot of friends.”

All you really knew was that she was an amiable person who’d likely attract many diverse people into her circle of influence.

“Then should we practice?” I asked. “Fire is easy, the illusion of fire is harder. Let’s practice making real fiery balls of sparks and work your way up to illusions.”

If you appreciate this story, please consider supporting the author's ability to write more by purchasing The Brotherhood, available in print and on Kindle. Please share on social media, and leave a review on the page linked above.

Saving Cayn 2

Lannetay and Bill had many times discussed Carnifor’s assignment. The flight to Herlorwis had taken six standard weeks, and there was little else to talk about.

As Lannetay and Carnifor entered the control room, the ship shuddered, as if crashing through a wall of cotton.

“Landfall in two minutes,” Bill said. “We’ve been instructed to use Pad 33.”

Most One-K colonies had a few landing pads just inside the circumference of the atmo wall. Each bore the designation of the compass bearing from the center of the colony – straight east would be pad 09, south 18, west 27, and straight north was pad 36. Pad 33 rested northwest of the colony’s center.

Lannetay led the way up the short aisle between the two rows of seats in the control area. “Tell the others, Bill.”

Bill’s notification filtered in from the common room’s sound inducers.

Two seats made up the back row in the control area. Two more chairs in front looked out through expansive windows, which were really display screens. The foremost recliners, according to tradition, were reserved for the two primary commanders of the ship. Bill could grow other chairs in the aisle if the need arose.

Lannetay and Carnifor sat at the console which held no real controls. Mostly Bill flew the ship, and the crew gave orders through electronic implants chemically laid down in the brain. Tactile controls could be produced on the panel for people who insisted on “hands on” flying. Lannetay never used that option.

The ship flared to a hover above a circle with the number “33” glowing in the center. Bill lowered the ship’s landing gear and they settled to the surface without a jolt. “We’re down. Five minutes, and you can head outside.”

Bill spent those five minutes with typical behind-the-scenes “housework,” changing the programming in the nanites in each person’s blood to fight local organisms, equalizing pressure, and exchanging data with the colony– everything needed to make the visit safe for everyone involved.

Carnifor frowned. “Why didn’t you take care of the prep work before we landed? You could have gotten the information you needed before we arrived.”

Bill gave a great impression of a derisive sniff. “You want me to trust a strange Core with your lives hanging in the balance? Not likely. Unless you’re volunteering to be the ‘canary in the coal mine,’ Carnifor.”

Lannetay had years of experience with the AI, even though it was with a previous iteration on a smaller ship. “Bill likes to take his own readings. We’ve been surprised before, and neither of us wants it to happen again.” Her husband had died that day. Fighting down the rising tide of sorrow, she swallowed, steeled herself, and told Bill she was ready when he was.

Bill said, “Okay, you’re good to go.”

Lannetay and Carnifor filed through the living area. The commander pointed at L-T and Goofball, then gestured to the deck. They would be staying aboard.

“Olthan, you’re with me.” Carnifor headed toward the starboard lock, and the Marine cut his inspection tour short to join him.

Lannetay simmered at having him make that decision, but crew assignments for off-ship activities were largely his to decide. She sent another sarcastic and imaginary thanks to Admiral Choergatan.

Lannetay saw Marc catch her eye. She nodded her permission, mostly to spite Carnifor. The boy bolted to her side, his wide grin spreading like a supernova. When Carnifor frowned, she smiled to herself.

At the airlock, Olthan unlocked a panel and drew out a belt containing a holstered GR19 disrupter pistol. After fastening that around his waist he then took one of the five Rant 23 rifles from a rack and cautiously slung it over his shoulder.

Lannetay had read Olthan’s file. “Thanks for being careful.”

“Don’t want ta blow off nobody’s foot. Did that once. Sergeant Wilks won’t let me forget it, neither.”

Carnifor eyed Lannetay’s attire. “Aren’t you going to change out of . . . that?”

Lannetay hiked up her skirt and strapped a holster to her thigh, then filled it with a Sheam 7 disrupter pistol. Not a very powerful weapon, but easy to conceal. “What’s wrong with it?” She smoothed her skirt over the pistol and checked to see if it showed. It didn’t.

“You look like a clown.”

“Does not.” Marc took a sonic stunner and dropped it into his pants pocket.

Lannetay couldn’t help but to annoy Carnifor a bit more. “Should I put on a different color of lipstick?”

Carnifor snorted. “Nobody will notice lipstick with you dressed that way.”

Lannetay looked over Carnifor’s bland clothing. “Don’t you carry weapons?”

He smiled. “No.”

Lannetay was unimpressed with his rank as a third degree black belt in Tae Kwan Do. That was all great, but a disrupter at thirty meters beat the best kick in the galaxy.

Lannetay looked up to where she imagined Bill might be watching from. “Okay, Bill. Let’s see what we can do here.”

The lock opened, and Lannetay continued. “I’ll have you know, Carny, my clothing is the latest fashion from Earth. You’re dressed like a common farmer.” Another shot at the commander’s ego. He hated being called “Carny.”

Carnifor visibly bristled but remained silent.

Outside, the atmosphere shield shimmered overhead. Designed to skew a star’s light toward “normal,” the shield couldn’t entirely mask the M2 red dwarf’s appearance. Looming large in the sky, it looked more like a massive ball of clotting blood than an actual star.

Nobody arrived to greet the four as they descended the ship’s ramp to the gritty surface. They turned around, taking in their surroundings.

The kilometer-high atmo-wall towered over them from behind the ship. Built by nanites, the wall wouldn’t leak more than an insignificant fraction of the air within. A century might pass before anyone would notice a drop in pressure, but processors made up for anything lost.

Marc bounced on the balls of his feet. “Stage One terraforming?Gravity seems about half normal.”

“Some might call it Stage Two.” Carnifor kept his eyes on their immediate surroundings. “Originally the dome system was called Stage One.”

Lannetay scoffed. “That’s hardly terraforming. Nobody calls a dome-colony ‘terraforming’ these days.” If anyone ever had. She sniffed the air, detecting rich soil somewhere nearby. The grit under their feet had modifications to grow plants somewhere not too far away.

About half of the surface area within the atmo-wall held low, single- or double-story buildings. They all exuded a utilitarian aura, colored in earth tones, and constructed of native materials, though none used the domestic wood products William Placard had listed as their chief export.

“Movement.” Olthan’s hand dropped to the butt of his sidearm. He left the rifle strapped at his back, however.

A car emerged, giving off a high-pitched whine and hovering a half-meter above the ground. The beat-up mechanism no doubt represented a large fraction of Herlorwis’ fleet of automobiles.

“Easy, Olthan.” Carnifor placed a hand on the Marine’s shoulder. “They are why we’re here.”

“Aye.” Even when he didn’t say it, Olthan said “sir.”

Lannetay’s heart warmed when Marc gripped her left hand. She didn’t expect he’d do such things much longer.

The car, each body panel with varying shades of terra cotta, stopped. Flattened duratine pegs took the mechanism’s weight as the antigravs wound down and the vehicle lowered to the ground a dozen meters away. All four doors on the sedan opened, and the occupants climbed out – three men, one woman.

“Lanny Tae?” The woman eyed Lannetay’s outfit and smiled. “I’m Gerid Meit.”

Lannetay recognized the woman’s name as the colonial governor, according to Bill’s file. No telling what had happened since the Wantis claimed the system as their own a few months ago.

All four of the Herlorwians were dressed in sheriq clothing – resembling denim, but much more durable. Gerid wore black slacks and a turquoise blouse under a royal blue suit coat. The men wore all black – pants, shirts and blazers, shoes and socks, everything.

Lannetay stepped toward the car for a handshake. Marc walked with her, still holding her left hand. “Glad to meet you, Gerid. Call me Lanny.” After the warm greeting she felt Marc’s hand fall away. The boy is growing up, she thought with mixed feelings.

“Lanny, your ship tells me you have trade goods.” Gerid stood with feet apart and hands in her shallow jacket pockets.

The three men with Gerid spread out a bit, as if covering her against imminent attack. Though they had the look of farmers uncomfortable in formal wear, they didn’t seem bothered by the bulky pistols poorly-hidden under their jackets. One kept his eyes on the visitors, particularly Olthan, while the other two visually scanned their surroundings – maybe for someone who had exited the ship for some clandestine purpose.

Lannetay eyed the three men, then dismissed them as non-threatening, though capable of aggression. As long as she was peaceful, they would return the favor. “You seem to have reached an equilibrium with your colony wall, from what we saw on our descent. I wondered if you’d like to expand a bit.”

Gerid kept her eyes focused on Lannetay’s. “Do you mean another One-K circle? We won’t have the trade items for a Five-K.”

Maybe not, but there were ways, Lannetay thought. She’d rehearsed options during the long cruise to Herlorwis. “That depends on what you have for trade. Some trees seem to grow well inside your wall. Could we buy some of the lumber your Core lists for sale?”

Gerid’s eyes clouded for a moment, then cleared. “Scans tell me your ship is unarmed, and only two are still aboard.”

Lannetay grinned. “Prudent of you to check before blowing us shield high.” She hadn’t noticed any armaments pointed at the ship, but it was a safe bet there was something – especially after Gerid’s comment. Lannetay had no doubt all three of the colony’s landing circles were covered in some way.

The colonist matched Lannetay’s expression. “Why risk destroying what might be a boon to the colony? Too few ships stop in for trade, but we do like to make sure of intent before we roll out our welcome. Shall we continue this conversation indoors? I’ve been here for ten years, but that glob of red hanging there all day still makes me nervous.” She hitched a thumb toward the ruddy sphere looming overhead.

“By all means.” Lannetay gestured for her to lead the way.

The three guards fanned out farther, and Gerid led Lannetay and her entourage past the car into a sprawling tan warehouse less than a hundred meters away.

If you're wondering more about these characters, their origins are detailed in Ebony Sea: Origins. If you appreciate this story, please share on social media, and consider supporting the author's ability to continue writing by purchasing the Origins story and leaving a review at the link above.