This sudden swerve into a Sci-Fi World shouldn’t come across as too abrupt. I’ve previous written several Short Scenes based on a Realmgard Sci-Fi spinoff that I currently don’t have a name for. I’m also working on putting together the first proper story for this setting.
More news on that as it becomes available.
And, yes, Katalina is basically collecting Warhammer dudes…
© J.B. Norman — Published by Emona Literary Services™
Katalina Darkstone, captain of the Bradamante, feels the sweat beading on her brow. As a freelance courier, she’s been stuck in some dire situations all across the galaxy. But this – this – is one of the toughest spots the young pilot has found herself in.
Hands trembling above the console, she watches the timer tick down. Each second feels thirty years long, though there’s only a sparse few of those precious seconds left.
00:08
00:07
00:06
With a trembling hand, she risks wiping the sweat from her forehead and exhales a ragged breath.
00:04
She hammers down on the keys.
Submit Bid.
Glancing at the screen, she can’t tell if that did anything. But, frankly she can’t take that risk.
Submit Bid.
00:02
Submit Bid, Submit Bid.
The stakes are just too high for her not to make absolutely certain she’s placed the winning bid.
SubmitBidSubmitBidSubmitBidSubmitBidSubmitBidSubmitBidSubmitBidSubmitBid.
00:00
The screen flashes. Katalina’s heart leaps into her throat. If this franging computer is going to do her dirty like this, she is going to personally dismantle the ship’s A.I. mainframe.
With a power-axe.
Page loading.
The screen flashes again.
This auction has now concluded. The winning bid was placed by dstone_spacegrrrl67. You will receive a confirmation message shortly.
Katalina stares at those words. And those sweet, sweet words stare right back at her.
“Yes!” she cries, leaping up from the seat in front of the comms console and exultantly punching the air.
“Is everything quite alright, Captain?” Amarantha asks, looking over her shoulder from where she’s been kneeling on the old korinthium leather couch in the ship’s living quarters. Until being roused by Katalina’s hollering, the runaway Alvaraean princess had her face smooshed up against the viewport in a rather unprincessly way.
After making its latest scheduled delivery, the Bradamante has spent the last few hours in a slow, easy orbit around the bright red gas giant Secundus Prime. Amarantha and Katalina’s little sister Dunstella have been watching the planet’s famously turbulent atmosphere, where ceaseless windstorms whip up a planetwide light show of swirling gas clouds and near-constant flashes of lighting.
“I won the ’Net auction!” Katalina says, still flush with her victory.
“For one of your… um, toys, Captain?” the Alvaraean princess asks, her head tilted quizzically.
“One,” Katalina insists. “They are not toys, they are tactical wargaming miniatures. And, two, this is the limited edition version of Seqenen-Rho the Assayer equipped with the Astrochalcum War Crown! They only printed a hundred thousand of these for the entire galaxy!”
Amarantha stares mutely, blinking a few times in confusion.
“Limited. edition,” Katalina repeats slowly.
“I see,” Amaranatha mutters. She does not, in fact, see. But she’s learned better than to get in Katalina’s way when she’s obsessing over her… whatever they are.
And with that, she turns back to the viewport to continue watching the electrostatic ballet unfolding across Secundus Prime’s atmosphere.
“That was a big one. I’ve never seen lightning in that colour before,” Amarantha murmurs in quiet awe.
The princess’ long, pointed ears quiver with excitement. Katalina hasn’t met many Alvaraeans, but she’s always been struck by the wingspan of their heads thanks to their long ears. Part of her wonders if the Alvaraeans evolved from some kind of small, gliding rodent, but she hasn’t worked up the courage to ask.
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