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Piloting Fury Part 10: A KDG Scifi Romance

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Good morning, my lovelies. Welcome to another cheeky Monday read. Here’s this week’s episode of  Piloting Fury.  As I said, Fury is a little different from what you’ve come to expect from KDG. I’m revisiting this serial novel for multiple reasons, but mostly because I love Fury, and I hope you do too.

Last  week  Fury and his team got a distress call. This week they find out just how bad it really is.

Catch up here if you missed last week’s episode of Piloting Fury.

If you have just arrived and would like to start at the beginning of Piloting Fury, follow the link, and enjoy!

 

 

Piloting Fury

“Win the bet and Fury’s yours. Lose the bet and your ass is mine.” It seemed like a no-brainer — Rick Manning’s slightly inebriated offer. If he’d been sober, he’d have remembered indentured pilot, Diana “Mac” McAllister never lost a bet. All her life she’s dreamed of buying back her freedom and owning her own starship, and when Fury’s ne’er-do-well, irritating as hell captain all but hands Fury to her on a silver platter she figures she can’t lose. She figured wrong. That’s how the best pilot in the galaxy finds herself the indentured 1st mate of a crew that, thanks to her, has doubled in size. Too late, she finds out Fury is way more than a cargo ship. Fury is a ship with a history – a dangerous history, and one that Mac’s been a part of for a lot longer than she thinks. And Rick Manning is not above cheating at poker to get her right at the center of it all, exactly where he needs her to be.

 

Piloting Fury Part 10: Contraband

“Bloody hell! So you brought it to me?” Manning growled.

“We need to jump again, but we’ve got sensitive cargo. We have to make a transfer. You know the consequences if we don’t.”

“I just took on a load. I’m full.” Manning fisted his hands on the console.

“It’s precious cargo,” came the crackle of a reply. “A full supply. Badly needed.”

“Fuck!” Manning ran a hand over his stubble. “We can’t do it here with the Authority on your ass, now can we?”

Instinct is a part of what makes a good pilot, and I was keying in the coordinates almost without thinking.

“What the hell?” Manning said, looking over my shoulder.

“You said you trusted me. Well, now’s the time to prove it.” I shouldered him away and spoke into the com. “Sending coordinates, Svalbard. Make the jump and we’ll meet you there.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” came the response.

“Do you hear me laughing? Do it! Now!”

And just like that the Svalbard was gone a split second before an Authority Jaeger Class burst onto the scene.

“They’ll be on our ass now,” Manning said as he strapped in.

“I’m counting on it. All right darlin’” I whispered to Fury, “let’s party. It’s gonna be one helluva ride.” I just managed to get myself belted before Fury vanished, and us right along with. I heard Manning shouting something like yeehaw as the G-force all but pushed my stomach out through my backbone, but the adrenaline rush I felt as the ship responded almost before I could ask for it made everything else feel irrelevant.

We came out into the constant bombardment that was the twisted swirl of asteroids at the far edge of the Faribaldi Nebula. It was affectionately known as the French Braid. For ships that had miscalculated and came up short in their attempts to bypass of the nebula, well let’s just say more than a little of the Braid’s debris was all that remained of them. But the Braid was exactly where I wanted us to be. Just as I expected, Fury was happy to share power. The Jaeger jumped in and jumped right back out once they saw what they were up against and what they’d be risking in that expensive piece of Authority kit. Whether they got out before they took a hit, I had no idea, nor did I care. I did know that doing a double jump that fast would have half the crew puking. I figured that would slow them down a bit. And even if it didn’t, it made me feel better.

“Jesus Christ, Mac! The Svalbard will never survive this. Jacobs is a good pilot, but not that good,” Manning managed between gritted teeth.

“I didn’t give them these coordinates.” I said, my innards still settling back into their right places, only to be shaken about in the dodge and bump of debris. “I figured Fury and I could get the Authority off their ass and have a bit of fun in the process.”

“Fuck me, you are one twisted puppy, woman.” Manning laughed, white knuckling the arms of his chair as we tossed and tumbled in the intimate menage between pilot and vessel and the bitch of a nebula.

“I reckon I’m in good company then.” It almost felt like Fury was chuckling too, but then that could have just been the judder of the wild ride. Before Manning could respond, I added, “I want a share.”

“What?” He gasped, and I swear he closed his eyed and gritted his teeth as I dodged an asteroid the shape of a fist but the size of the Dubrovnik.

“I want a share of the profits from this little venture. I want a share from this precious cargo, in fact I want a share from everything here on out.”

“Sonovabitch! You’re actually blackmailing me?” His laughter seemed incongruous given that the chances of surviving the Braid were slim, but then the Fury and I were already a proper team. I knew together we would beat the odds.

“I want the chance to buy back my indenture, and the funds I’d saved were automatically deleted when I went AWOL from the Dubrovnik.”

I dodged hard left. He cursed and held tight to the chair arms, and fuck if he didn’t laugh even harder. “Well, you got ‘nads, Mac, I’ll say that for you. All right. Ten percent.”

“Twenty-Five.” I countered.

“Fifteen.” Then he added quickly. “Fucking hell, do you have any idea what a turn-on it is bargaining with you in the middle of the Braid?”

I did, actually. “Twenty,” I haggled, “or you might find I’m suffering just a little bit from last night’s whiskey myself.”

He held me in a hard stare, which I ignored, my full attention on the bounce and sway and twist that Fury and I maneuvered like he could read my mind. “I got nothing to lose,” I added.

“I don’t believe that for a minute, Mac, but all right. Twenty it is. Twenty percent of the profits. Done.”

Banking hard left and dropping fast to miss a big one, Fury and I danced our way to the outer edge of the Braid. We came up tight on another large asteroid, which we circumnavigated all neat and easy-like popping out at the far side of the nebula to nose in up close and personal right beside the Svalbard.

“Goddamn, you really are the best pilot in the galaxy,” Manning said, running a hand though his hair, and struggling to his feet.

“Was there ever any doubt?” I said, feeling pretty damn cocky.

“Not even a little bit, though I hadn’t realized you were so mercenary, or so fucking crazy.” Then he lost his balance and went down on one knee, a little green around the gills.

“Don’t you dare puke on the bridge of my ship, you hung-over bastard,” I warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Madame First Mate” he said, forcing his way to his feet and swallowing hard. It was coming out of hyperspace too fast that caused the disorientation and the space sickness. I stayed in my seat until my stomach settled back where it belonged.

He swallowed a couple more times and took a deep breath. Then he looked me up and down. “Now how are you at supervising the transfer of cargo?”

“Don’t know. Never done it before, but then I’ve never had a twenty percent share in the profits either. Pretty sure that’ll inspire me to do a fine job. Wait a minute, aren’t you going to use the mol-tran?” I asked.

“No can do, sweet cheeks. Not on this cargo.”

“Volatile, is it?”

“Let’s just say it’s sensitive, and besides, I don’t like to use the mol-tran unless I’m in a huge hurry. I think we’re relatively safe from interfering eyes here, wouldn’t you say?”

“You got that right.”

“Well, come on,” he said. “You’ve not finished earning that twenty-percent yet, so get your ass down to the cargo hold’s airlock.

I undid my harness and carefully stood up. A part of what made a good pilot was being damn near immune to space sickness and being smart enough to never look the bitch in the eye. I placed a kiss against my palm and gave the console a pat. “You were brilliant, Hon. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.” I couldn’t keep from smiling at the thought of the steamy little session Fury and I had just had. If this was getting to know you sex, then let the good times roll! Being indentured on the Fury might turn out to be way more fun than I’d ever expected.

 

 

I caught up with Manning at the lift, still basking in the afterglow of fun and profit. “You’re an ace pilot,” He said without looking at me, “but how are you on a sick bay? Some pilots ralf their guts at the first sight of blood.”

“It takes more than blood and guts to make me squeamish, Manning. I’m an indentured, remember? I’m expendable.” He flinched at my words, and I couldn’t say I was sorry about that. “I’ve seen stuff, been sent into the middle of stuff that would curl you hair.” Though that hadn’t happened after Captain Harker took over supervision of my indenture. He knew the value of a good pilot and sent out the less skilled indentureds if there was a dangerous situation to cope with. “I know a thing or two,” I said. “Why? Are you needing a hang over cure, something to take away that green tinge around the cheek?”

“Oh no, I’m fine.” He offered a bright and shining smile. “Can you give injections?”

“Of course I can. Everyone onboard any orca class starship has to be trained in basic first aid and radiation leak protocols– even us lowly indentured. Why?”

“Because some of our cargo will be unable to do it for themselves.”

“For themselves? Wait a minute, what kind of cargo are we talking about here?”

Just then the airlock opened and four Svalbard medics pushing air stretchers moved through like their asses were on fire. I grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet and all but swaggered toward them, until I got my first glance at their patients, and then I froze. “What the fuck, Manning? You brought SNT infected indentured onboard the Fury? Do you have any idea what’ll happen if the Authorities find out?”

“Bloody hell! So you brought it to me?” Manning growled.

“We need to jump again, but we’ve got sensitive cargo. We have to make a transfer. You know the consequences if we don’t.”

“I just took on a load. I’m full.” Manning fisted his hands on the console.

“It’s precious cargo,” came the crackle of a reply. “A full supply. Badly needed.”

“Fuck!” Manning ran a hand over his stubble. “We can’t do it here with the Authority on your ass, now can we?”

Instinct is a part of what makes a good pilot, and I was keying in the coordinates almost without thinking.

“What the hell?” Manning said, looking over my shoulder.

“You said you trusted me. Well, now’s the time to prove it.” I shouldered him away and spoke into the com. “Sending coordinates, Svalbard. Make the jump and we’ll meet you there.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” came the response.

“Do you hear me laughing? Do it! Now!”

And just like that the Svalbard was gone a split second before an Authority Jaeger Class burst onto the scene.

“They’ll be on our ass now,” Manning said as he strapped in.

“I’m counting on it. All right darlin’” I whispered to Fury, “let’s party. It’s gonna be one helluva ride.” I just managed to get myself belted before Fury vanished, and us right along with. I heard Manning shouting something like yeehaw as the G-force all but pushed my stomach out through my backbone, but the adrenaline rush I felt as the ship responded almost before I could ask for it made everything else feel irrelevant.

We came out into the constant bombardment that was the twisted swirl of asteroids at the far edge of the Faribaldi Nebula. It was affectionately known as the French Braid. For ships that had miscalculated and came up short in their attempts to bypass of the nebula, well let’s just say more than a little of the Braid’s debris was all that remained of them. But the Braid was exactly where I wanted us to be. Just as I expected, Fury was happy to share power. The Jaeger jumped in and jumped right back out once they saw what they were up against and what they’d be risking in that expensive piece of Authority kit. Whether they got out before they took a hit, I had no idea, nor did I care. I did know that doing a double jump that fast would have half the crew puking. I figured that would slow them down a bit. And even if it didn’t, it made me feel better.

“Jesus Christ, Mac! The Svalbard will never survive this. Jacobs is a good pilot, but not that good,” Manning managed between gritted teeth.

“I didn’t give them these coordinates.” I said, my innards still settling back into their right places, only to be shaken about in the dodge and bump of debris. “I figured Fury and I could get the Authority off their ass and have a bit of fun in the process.”

“Fuck me, you are one twisted puppy, woman.” Manning laughed, white knuckling the arms of his chair as we tossed and tumbled in the intimate menage between pilot and vessel and the bitch of a nebula.

“I reckon I’m in good company then.” It almost felt like Fury was chuckling too, but then that could have just been the judder of the wild ride. Before Manning could respond, I added, “I want a share.”

“What?” He gasped, and I swear he closed his eyed and gritted his teeth as I dodged an asteroid the shape of a fist but the size of the Dubrovnik.

“I want a share of the profits from this little venture. I want a share from this precious cargo, in fact I want a share from everything here on out.”

“Sonovabitch! You’re actually blackmailing me?” His laughter seemed incongruous given that the chances of surviving the Braid were slim, but then the Fury and I were already a proper team. I knew together we would beat the odds.

“I want the chance to buy back my indenture, and the funds I’d saved were automatically deleted when I went AWOL from the Dubrovnik.”

I dodged hard left. He cursed and held tight to the chair arms, and fuck if he didn’t laugh even harder. “Well, you got ‘nads, Mac, I’ll say that for you. All right. Ten percent.”

“Twenty-Five.” I countered.

“Fifteen.” Then he added quickly. “Fucking hell, do you have any idea what a turn-on it is bargaining with you in the middle of the Braid?”

I did, actually. “Twenty,” I haggled, “or you might find I’m suffering just a little bit from last night’s whiskey myself.”

He held me in a hard stare, which I ignored, my full attention on the bounce and sway and twist that Fury and I maneuvered like he could read my mind. “I got nothing to lose,” I added.

“I don’t believe that for a minute, Mac, but all right. Twenty it is. Twenty percent of the profits. Done.”

Banking hard left and dropping fast to miss a big one, Fury and I danced our way to the outer edge of the Braid. We came up tight on another large asteroid, which we circumnavigated all neat and easy-like popping out at the far side of the nebula to nose in up close and personal right beside the Svalbard.

“Goddamn, you really are the best pilot in the galaxy,” Manning said, running a hand though his hair, and struggling to his feet.

“Was there ever any doubt?” I said, feeling pretty damn cocky.

“Not even a little bit, though I hadn’t realized you were so mercenary, or so fucking crazy.” Then he lost his balance and went down on one knee, a little green around the gills.

“Don’t you dare puke on the bridge of my ship, you hung-over bastard,” I warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Madame First Mate” he said, forcing his way to his feet and swallowing hard. It was coming out of hyperspace too fast that caused the disorientation and the space sickness. I stayed in my seat until my stomach settled back where it belonged.

He swallowed a couple more times and took a deep breath. Then he looked me up and down. “Now how are you at supervising the transfer of cargo?”

“Don’t know. Never done it before, but then I’ve never had a twenty percent share in the profits either. Pretty sure that’ll inspire me to do a fine job. Wait a minute, aren’t you going to use the mol-tran?” I asked.

“No can do, sweet cheeks. Not on this cargo.”

“Volatile, is it?”

“Let’s just say it’s sensitive, and besides, I don’t like to use the mol-tran unless I’m in a huge hurry. I think we’re relatively safe from interfering eyes here, wouldn’t you say?”

“You got that right.”

“Well, come on,” he said. “You’ve not finished earning that twenty-percent yet, so get your ass down to the cargo hold’s airlock.

I undid my harness and carefully stood up. A part of what made a good pilot was being damn near immune to space sickness and being smart enough to never look the bitch in the eye. I placed a kiss against my palm and gave the console a pat. “You were brilliant, Hon. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.” I couldn’t keep from smiling at the thought of the steamy little session Fury and I had just had. If this was getting to know you sex, then let the good times roll! Being indentured on the Fury might turn out to be way more fun than I’d ever expected.

I caught up with Manning at the lift, still basking in the afterglow of fun and profit. “You’re an ace pilot,” He said without looking at me, “but how are you on a sick bay? Some pilots ralf their guts at the first sight of blood.”

“It takes more than blood and guts to make me squeamish, Manning. I’m an indentured, remember? I’m expendable.” He flinched at my words, and I couldn’t say I was sorry about that. “I’ve seen stuff, been sent into the middle of stuff that would curl you hair.” Though that hadn’t happened after Captain Harker took over supervision of my indenture. He knew the value of a good pilot and sent out the less skilled indentureds if there was a dangerous situation to cope with. “I know a thing or two,” I said. “Why? Are you needing a hang over cure, something to take away that green tinge around the cheek?”

“Oh no, I’m fine.” He offered a bright and shining smile. “Can you give injections?”

“Of course I can. Everyone onboard any orca class starship has to be trained in basic first aid and radiation leak protocols– even us lowly indentured. Why?”

“Because some of our cargo will be unable to do it for themselves.”

“For themselves? Wait a minute, what kind of cargo are we talking about here?”

Just then the airlock opened and four Svalbard medics pushing air stretchers moved through like their asses were on fire. I grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet and all but swaggered toward them, until I got my first glance at their patients, and then I froze. “What the fuck, Manning? You brought SNT infected indentured onboard the Fury? Do you have any idea what’ll happen if the Authorities find out?”

 

Piloting Fury Part 9: A KDG Scifi Romance

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Good morning, my lovelies. Welcome to another cheeky Monday read. Here’s this week’s slightly delayed episode of  Piloting Fury.  As I said, Fury is a little different from what you’ve come to expect from KDG. I’m revisiting this serial novel for multiple reasons, but mostly because I love Fury, and I hope you do too.

Last  week  Manning welcomed his new first mate. This week Fury and his team get a distress call.

Catch up here if you missed last week’s episode of Piloting Fury.

If you have just arrived and would like to start at the beginning of Piloting Fury, follow the link, and enjoy!

 

 

Piloting Fury

“Win the bet and Fury’s yours. Lose the bet and your ass is mine.” It seemed like a no-brainer — Rick Manning’s slightly inebriated offer. If he’d been sober, he’d have remembered indentured pilot, Diana “Mac” McAllister never lost a bet. All her life she’s dreamed of buying back her freedom and owning her own starship, and when Fury’s ne’er-do-well, irritating as hell captain all but hands Fury to her on a silver platter she figures she can’t lose. She figured wrong. That’s how the best pilot in the galaxy finds herself the indentured 1st mate of a crew that, thanks to her, has doubled in size. Too late, she finds out Fury is way more than a cargo ship. Fury is a ship with a history – a dangerous history, and one that Mac’s been a part of for a lot longer than she thinks. And Rick Manning is not above cheating at poker to get her right at the center of it all, exactly where he needs her to be.

 

Piloting Fury Part 9: The Fariabaldi Nebula Route

Manning pulled up a camera from the cargo bay and I watched as the empty space filled with whiskey barrels. New Hibernia Alpha was a densely wooded planet, and therefore the primo New Hibernian whiskey was still fermented in wooden barrels. A few seconds later a man appeared standing next to the shipment. The captain of the Torrington had a chest that made me think perhaps he had stashed a smaller version of one of the barrels inside his shirt. In one hand, he held his device with the manifest, and with the other he circumnavigated the shipment poking and prodding to make sure the force field that held it all in place was secure.

“All right, Mac.” Manning grabbed up his device and stood. “I’m going to go welcome Captain Gruber onboard. Best you stay put in case we need to make a quick getaway – not likely with Gruber. He’s a pretty straight shooter, but with you leaving the Dubrovnik in such a hurry, I reckon there’s still a bulletin out on you as an escapee.” He looked down at his chronometer. “You’ve got another thirty-three standard hours before they’ll give you up and figure if anyone does find you, they’ll send you off to the nearest plague planet at the Authority’s expense. Once everyone gives up the search, then I promise I’ll take you to the smuggler’s ball.”

He leaned down close and for a second, I actually thought he was going to kiss me. “I’ve got an implant right here that’ll allow you and Fury to keep an eye on me.” He bared the side of his throat. “When we get a minute, I’ll fit you with one too. That’ll give us both a voyeur’s eye view.” He gave me a wicked smile. “Could be entertaining on those long hauls beyond the Rim. Besides it’ll also allow us both to mol-tran out of any bad situation if we should ever need to.”

Everything onboard the Dubrovnik was always proper and by the book. It had to be to suit the conglomerate’s taxations tables and their personnel safety standards. Since the Authority was well into the pockets of the conglomerates, rules had to be followed so that everything looked legal and proper, but any indentured could tell you just how deceiving looks could be where the Authority was concerned. I had to admit, getting one over on them, even if it was nothing more than a few barrels of tax-free whiskey, did my heart good.

On screen, I watched as Manning took the lift to the cargo hold, but instead of stopping there, the door pinged and kept going. To my surprise it stopped a half deck below the hold I’d explored earlier, and Manning chuckled all warm and honey-like over the com. “False floor, Mac. You gotta have one if you’re gonna work in Authority space. Those bastards would tax you every time you took a dump if they could figure out how to manage it.”

He stepped out of the lift to find the dour Captain Gruber looking him up and down. “Manning,” he said with a nod of the head. “Got yourself a crew, I see.” He offered a grimace of a smile and a shoulder shrug up toward the monitor mounted above the lift. “She any good?”

“Fury, shut it down,” I said in little more than a whisper. Once I was certain my mug wasn’t plastered all over the view screen, I blew out a sharp breath. “So much for keeping me secret.”

“My apologies,” Fury’s computer purred into the silence. “Richard Manning had all of the screens on to keep watch over you earlier when you were exploring,”

 

 

“Bastard.” The little twitch of Manning’s mouth and the sparkle in his eyes told me he’d heard my comment. “If you liked that, you’d love the gesture I’m making right now, just for you,” I said in a voice that was all smiles and sugar. I could have sworn Fury’s computer chuckled.

“You can’t get good help these days,” Manning was saying to Gruber. “She doesn’t eat much, though, and she’s good for a game of cards if I get bored.”

“You are a dick,” I said between barely parted lips. To which he only smiled and kept right on talking to Gruber about the goods manifest.

Beyond the acknowledgment of my existence, Manning made no effort to introduce me, and Gruber didn’t ask. Considering that I was a fugitive, I figured it was better for me that way. From my vantage point on Fury’s bridge, I watched with interest as the two men circled the cargo and compared manifests. The whole transaction took less than one galactic hour. Just as the process was concluding, Manning sent me a message on his device to lay in coordinates for Outer Kingston. It was the perfect place to sell high-end smuggled whiskey. In fact Outer Kingston was the perfect place to sell or buy any type of contraband. I’d never been there while I worked onboard the Dubrovnik. There was no reason to go there when a conglomerate orca class freighter was always on above board, Authority sanctioned business.

“So, Fury, my lovely,” I said, keeping one eye on the proceedings in the cargo hold. “You’ve been to Outer Kingston before,” I pulled up the logged routes. “What do you think, since I’m new, will you take me on the tourist route?” I let out a low whistle as I studied the logs of trips to Outer Kingston. “Looks like you’ve gone just about every route that’s ever been taken, haven’t you?” In my head, I couldn’t help imagining the ship offering me a testosterone charged ‘I’ve been everywhere, hon,’ Manning-like smile, and I had to chuckle.

“Recommended routes?” I tapped the question into the Fury’s computer, and nearly jumped out of my skin when Manning said. “Take the Faribaldi Nebula route, Mac. You ever been?”

I turned to find him standing behind me. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Just not used to having anyone onboard but me.”

“I’ve been inside the Nebula,” I said, “but it sure as hell wasn’t the tourist route.”

“Inside the nebula? That’s one dangerous place to hang out, if everything I’ve heard is true,” he said, dropping into the captain’s chair. “What the hell were you doing in the nebula?”

“Rescuing one of Fallon’s brats.”

“Seriously? What happened?”

“His oldest son fancied himself a pilot. Got his coordinates wrong and ended up in the Faribaldi. Daddy sent me to bring him back.”

“Fucking hell! It’d take more credits that there are in the Outer Rim to get me in there. Hope he rewarded you well for that.”

“A good dose of the SNT virus, actually.” I kept my eyes on the console, kept my words even. “His son claimed it was all my fault he was lost in the first place because I wouldn’t take him into the nebula.”

“Jesus! What kind of idiot would want to go into the nebula?”

“One with nothing better to do, I suppose.” The Torrington had just made the jump, and I was about to lay in the course around the outer nebular aurora when the com crackled to life.

“Fury, this is the Svalbard.” Just then a raven class freighter a good ten times bigger than the Fury hove into view out of hyperspace. “We’re in trouble,” came the voice over the intercom.

Piloting Fury Part 8: KDG Scifi Romance

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Good morning, my lovelies. Time for another cheeky Monday read. Here’s this week’s slightly delayed episode of  Piloting Fury.  As I said, Fury is a little different from what you’ve come to expect from KDG. I’m revisiting this serial novel for multiple reasons, but mostly because I love Fury, and I hope you do too.

Last  week aboard the Dubrovnik, Captain Harker  hoped for the best when Mac didn’t show up for her shift. This week  Manning welcomes his new first mate.

Catch up here if you missed last week’s episode of Piloting Fury.

If you have just arrived and would like to start at the beginning of Piloting Fury, follow the link, and enjoy!

 

 

Piloting Fury

“Win the bet and Fury’s yours. Lose the bet and your ass is mine.” It seemed like a no-brainer — Rick Manning’s slightly inebriated offer. If he’d been sober, he’d have remembered indentured pilot, Diana “Mac” McAllister never lost a bet. All her life she’s dreamed of buying back her freedom and owning her own starship, and when Fury’s ne’er-do-well, irritating as hell captain all but hands Fury to her on a silver platter she figures she can’t lose. She figured wrong. That’s how the best pilot in the galaxy finds herself the indentured 1st mate of a crew that, thanks to her, has doubled in size. Too late, she finds out Fury is way more than a cargo ship. Fury is a ship with a history – a dangerous history, and one that Mac’s been a part of for a lot longer than she thinks. And Rick Manning is not above cheating at poker to get her right at the center of it all, exactly where he needs her to be.

Piloting Fury Part 8: Business as Usual

By the time Manning joined me on the deck, looking way too perky for someone who was hung over, I was already well on my way to a meaningful relationship with Fury, who was doing me real proud.

“I see you’ve been reading back through the logs,” Manning said, as he settled into the captain’s chair.

“For someone who’s been sleeping off a hangover, you’ve been busy.” I replied.

“I don’t miss much,” he said with a hint of a smile that made his grey eyes glisten like the Faribaldi nebula. “Besides knowing you like I do, Mac, I could have guessed as much.”

Before I could comment that we really didn’t know each other all that well, he changed the subject. “Clothes comfortable?”

“Perfect fit.”

“And no,” he said, before I could ask, “I didn’t give you a grope measure while you slept, though it was tempting.” He wriggled his sun-bleached eyebrows, and I wondered again how someone who spent the majority of his time in deep space looked like he’d just come off a beach holiday. “Fury’s replicator sized you when you sat your fine little ass in the pilot’s chair, with that and the help of the view screen, voila!”

“It’s definitely a step up,” I observed. “The damn uniforms on the Dubrovnik never fit right, but then indentureds didn’t have funds to get bespoke ones.”

“Trust me,” he said giving the console an affectionate pat, “everything onboard Fury is bespoke. All you have to do is ask. And the room? It’s okay?”

“It’s fine.” As glad as I was to have a room at all, I’d been indentured too long not to expect there’d be a price attached. “It does makes me wonder, though, what you expect in return.”

“It’s just space, Mac.” He pulled up the view screen, the fine muscles along his cheekbones tensing. “Don’t read too much into it. If you work for me, I want you to be comfortable. I figure if you’re happy, you’ll work better.”

“A carrot instead of a stick, then,” I said, stroking the soft fabric on the sleeve of my jumpsuit.”

Manning’s body stilled as though he’d suddenly frozen in his chair. As he turned to meet my gaze, his eyes blazed bright. “Deliberately infecting someone with the SNT virus and then curing them at the last minute, seriously Mac.” His voice was little more than a low growl. “You may hate me right now, but you’ve gotta know I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy.”

I looked down at the place on my inner arm where the shackle was now all but invisible. “That may be true, but if I’m ever checked against the registration records, I’ll still end up with a lethal dose of the virus and a free ride to the nearest plague world.” I shivered at the thought.

He leaned in close, his gaze storm cloud dark. “If that ever happens, I’ll be shackled and sent to the nearest tri-ax penal colony.” He cradled his own arm against his chest in the way I’d done a million times, in the way I’d seen so many indentureds do. “You’re a gambler, Mac. You know everything has a cost.”

 

 

I studied him for a long moment, and he didn’t flinch. Then I let out a tight breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “You did know how to manipulate the coding on my shackle to keep me from getting infected. I didn’t think you could. I didn’t think anyone could.”

“I can do a lot of things,” he said, his gaze still locked on mine, “and believe me, I know who the monsters really are.” Before the situation could get more uncomfortable, he changed the subject again. “Nice driving by the way. Through the Corset, I mean. But then I would have expected no less from an ace pilot. And nice thinking, tweaking the coordinates.  Don’t know why I didn’t think of making the rendezvou point with the Torrington behind the Drogheda Dust Cloud.”

“Wow, you really don’t miss much.”

“That’s how I’ve managed to stay one step ahead of the Authority’s thugs.”

“Smart man.” I forced a smile. “I wouldn’t recommend Authority hospitality.” I couldn’t help feeling a bit of satisfaction when he flinched at my comment.

For a moment we sat in silence watching the viewing screen as we approached the rendezvous point. At last he spoke. “I’d better check the manifests one more time. Gotta be sure what’s on them is what I actually get, otherwise I’m the one who gets cheated on the other end.”

“I’ve checked them already,” I said.

“Kissing my ass won’t do you any good, Mac.” Then he chuckled wickedly, “Though it sure as hell would do me some good.”

“I had time to kill,” I replied, angry at myself for the blush I couldn’t control. “If I really am your first mate, then I need to know what’s going on, just in case you’re … hung over again, and I need to take charge.”

He eyeballed me until I squirmed in my chair. This time there was no mischief and no playful lust in his eyes. “Good point. I reckon if I can’t trust you then who can I trust?” He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, blew out a sharp breath and pulled a tablet from beneath the console. “Then perhaps you’d like to check out the real manifest, Madame First Mate.”

I folded my arms across my chest and blinked. “Oh I have checked the real one. You don’t really think I thought what you recorded in the logs was actually the deal on the table when you’re doing the exchange beyond the Corset?” Just then the Torrington flashed into view and settled next to us.

“Well, that’s a relief then, I don’t have to lie to you.” Manning said with a bright smile.

“You own me. You can’t honestly think I’d be stupid enough to betray something as benign as a less than above board whiskey transport.”

He laughed out loud. “Oh Mac, we’re gonna get along just fine. You’ll see.”

I ignored the ridiculous warm flush I felt around my ears as he flipped on the com button and a gravelly voice with the accent from the Inner Rim came on line.

“Ready to transport, Manning.”

“The hold’s all yours,” Manning replied, and I just gaped.

“You have mol-tran?” Molecular transport technology was illegal for planets under the Authority, punishable by confiscation of goods and ship and a prison sentence, which meant a shackle. The Authority took its right to tax everyone and everything very seriously. Mostly they feared the unauthorized transport and trade of Indentureds. But their excuse was that it wasn’t safe. Everything I’d heard about the accidents and horrors from the use of illegal mol-tran convinced me they might be right on this one. But then maybe that was just more Authority propaganda.

“Of course Fury has mol-tran,” Manning replied. “It would be stupid to deal in some of the more … sensitive trade items without it.”

“Then you trust Gruber just to transport the whole shipment right down into the Fury’s hold, wave toot-a-loo and be on his way?”

“Of course I don’t trust Gruber, and he doesn’t trust me either. No one trusts anyone in this business. There’s always an inspection, and the exchange of credits takes place in person when everyone is satisfied with the arrangements, just like with Harker on the Dubrovnik.”

“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes. Manning just offered me a beatific smile that would have been right at home on a New Vaticana saints.

“Commencing transport,” came the disembodied voice on the other end of the com.

 

Piloting Fury Part 61: Brand New KDG Read

Blog,

I hope your new year is off to a great start everyone. It’s the first Friday of the year, which means  it’s once again time for more Fury. Last week, Fury’s brother was finally set free, and this week, the family grows. If you’re enjoying Fury, please spread the word and pass the link to a friend. I love to share my stories with as many people as possible. I’m offering a new episode of Fury every Friday.

Again here’s the link to the first episode of Piloting Fury for those of you who’d like to start at the beginning. https://kdgrace.co.uk/blog/piloting-fury-new-from-kdg/

 

 

 

“Win the bet and Fury’s yours. Lose the bet and your ass is mine.” It seemed like a no-brainer — Rick Manning’s slightly inebriated offer. If he’d been sober, he’d have remembered indentured pilot, Diana “Mac” McAllister never lost a bet. All her life she’s dreamed of buying back her freedom and owning her own starship, and when Fury’s ne’er-do-well, irritating as hell captain all but hands Fury to her on a silver platter she figures she can’t lose. She figured wrong. That’s how the best pilot in the galaxy finds herself the indentured 1st mate of a crew that, thanks to her, has doubled in size. Too late, she finds out Fury is way more than a cargo ship. Fury is a ship with a history – a dangerous history, and one that Mac’s been a part of for a lot longer than she thinks. And Rick Manning is not above cheating at poker to get her right at the center of it all, exactly where he needs her to be.

 

Piloting Fury Part 61: Fury’s Family

“What’s taking so long?” Manning asked, pacing the carpeted floor in Fury’s observation deck. It was the place we always adjourned too when our work was done, when we needed to think, or when there was nothing else to do but wait it out. That was exactly what was going on now.

“It takes however long it takes,” Fury said. “Griffin knows as little of the bonding with a compliment as I knew, though both Victor Keen and I have done what we may to advise him.”

Manning chuckled, “So you two have had the birds and the bees discussion with him, have you?”

“He is old enough.” Fury said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m sure Stanislavsky will be happy for your efforts,” I replied.

 

 

Griffon was the name Apocalypse had chosen for himself, saying that an SNT should not be named for the destruction of those he was created to protect and nurture. He chose the name, Griffin, because a griffon was a mythical flying beast who was the protector of great treasure. He felt it fit, and we all agreed.

Manning paced some more, along with Rab, who had been invited from the Dubrovnik where he had once again taken up a position, to wait with us, since he had a vested interest, and Griffon might not have been freed had he not helped Gerando.

“So, how’s our baby?” I asked Rab, trying to keep the two men’s mind off the bonding going on aboard the Griffin.

“Doing good, doing good,” he said turning to face me. I couldn’t help notice the smile on his face was not unlike a proud uncle. “Trouble for everyone, like all sprogs, and growing like a weed.” He turned and continued pacing, he and Manning now walking in opposite directions. “It’ sure as hell keeping Harker on his toes, let me tell you. And Dr. Flissy, well you’d think she was the sprog’s mother the way she flits about all protective like. Hell, it’s a damn ship, I keep saying, but no one ever listens to Rab, do they?”

Fury chuckled softly, and it was the easiest thing in the world to be caught up in the excitement of what was happening onboard Dubrovnik as well as what was happening onboard Griffin.

“One things for goddamn sure,” Rab observed, “it’s making the refit for New Pandora Base a helluva lot easier. Mind you, I’m not sure how I feel about being onboard a damn research base inside a ship that’s smarter than me.”

“Hell, I’ve got underwear smarter than you,” Manning said.

Rab chuckled. “Well, that’s probably true, being a compliment to an SNT1 and all, but a simple man like me, well I don’t need help to pull my scruns down when I need to shit.”

Before Manning could respond with more than a middle finger in the air, the com crackled to life. “It’s done,” Keen’s voice came over the system. “The bonding was a success and Griffin says to tell you all that they are now smoking cigarettes, whatever that means.”

Manning laughed. “It’s an old Terran ritual supposedly indulged in immediately after really good sex. Did he inherit your sense of humor, Fury?”

“He is developing his own, and very quickly,” Fury said with pride in his voice. “I believe he is making up for lost time.”

“And he has a lot of it to make up for,” I said, running my hand over the small white scar on my forearm now nearly invisible where my shackle used to be. “And Gerando?”

 

 

 

“The tether’s secure and holding,” Keen said. “Perhaps in time, since Griffin is now bonded with Ina, that tether will get stronger and longer, as it has with you, Richard, but at the moment it’s secure, and the bond between the three is strong. It’s a different kind of bond,” Keen explained, “since Griffin and Gerando share blood, but the tether is like what Manning has. But in the bonding process, Gerando and Ina were bonded, which in its own way strengthens the bonding.”

“Well that’s all dandy,” Rab said, “but what I want to know is how the hell we gonna keep Griffin out of the hands of the Authority? Technically he belongs to them.”

“Technically, he was stolen from the Free Universities,” Fury corrected. “I am sure there are lawyers who could prove that fact. There is a precedent.”

“And how goddamn much difference do you think that’s gonna make when the fucking Authority finds out we’re growing us a new generation of SNT ships out here at Plague One?”

“Probably no difference at all, if the Authority were to find out,” Fury replied. “But they will not. Griffin will stay safe the same way I stayed safe. It will not be difficult for him to create a shape and appearance least likely to draw attention.”

“Nor will it be hard to spread the word that Plague 1 is now a breeding ground for a new virulent form of the SNT virus that is no longer controlled by the shackle, but is a menace to the general population. We are already disseminating that information, including footage of the destruction of the Apocalypse and Abriad Fallon with it. People are happy to believe rumors of the SNT virus, so one more really big one won’t shock them at all. No one will come looking. With his vocal processors and his link to Fallon, Griffin has been able to produce a subspace distress call from the Apocalypse of an infected Fallon that will convince everyone in Authority space to stay as far away from Plague One as possible.”

“Jesu Vati! You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Rab said. “Except if Plague One is going to be safe from unexpected visitors in the future, why the hell is the Dubrovnik about to become the new Pandora Base?”

“Fallon’s not the only powerful head of a conglomerate who would like to control the SNT virus,” Keen said. “Sooner or later, someone will show up wanting to replicate the virus and use it for their own ends. Best they don’t find anything here when that happens. Besides, Fallon had the right idea using the Apocalypse so he never stayed in one place. With the research we’re doing, with our efforts to end indentureship and eliminate the virus completely, not to mention the research on SNT technology, it’s best if no one is able to pinpoint our location. When we’re done with the Dubrovnik, he’ll be the perfect fortress for the protection of our research, just as his ancient Terran namesake was.” He looked down at his chronometer. “Right, let’s give Griffin and his compliment time to finish their cigarettes, and then we’ll all meet onboard the Dubrovnik. We’ve got a brave new world ahead of us now.”

 

 

 

 

Piloting Fury Part 60: Brand New KDG Read

Blog,

Happy New Years eve! And happy Friday! Of course Friday means more Fury. Last week we were reminded again just what a deadly man Abriad Fallon is. Time to find out if Fury and his team will be able to free the Apocalypse and live to tell the tale.  If you’re enjoying Fury, please spread the word and pass the link to a friend. I love to share my stories with as many people as possible. I’m offering a new episode of Fury every Friday.

Again here’s the link to the first episode of Piloting Fury for those of you who’d like to start at the beginning. https://kdgrace.co.uk/blog/piloting-fury-new-from-kdg/

 

 

 

“Win the bet and Fury’s yours. Lose the bet and your ass is mine.” It seemed like a no-brainer — Rick Manning’s slightly inebriated offer. If he’d been sober, he’d have remembered indentured pilot, Diana “Mac” McAllister never lost a bet. All her life she’s dreamed of buying back her freedom and owning her own starship, and when Fury’s ne’er-do-well, irritating as hell captain all but hands Fury to her on a silver platter she figures she can’t lose. She figured wrong. That’s how the best pilot in the galaxy finds herself the indentured 1st mate of a crew that, thanks to her, has doubled in size. Too late, she finds out Fury is way more than a cargo ship. Fury is a ship with a history – a dangerous history, and one that Mac’s been a part of for a lot longer than she thinks. And Rick Manning is not above cheating at poker to get her right at the center of it all, exactly where he needs her to be.

 

Piloting Fury Part 60: Free Bro 3!

“Bro 1! 2 Not Bro 1!” This time Apocalypse spoke out loud, in fact, Apocalypse’ shout was nothing short of a battle cry. Before Fallon could do more than open his mouth in shock, Manning appeared by my side, and on the view screen, Fury uncloaked in his full glory.

With a laugh, Fallon laid down the knife, and reached to undo the de-mol from its holster at his hip. “The Apocalypse is well armed,” he said. “And SNT1, well SNT1 has had an identity crisis since being born too soon. I can fix that though. All I have to do is call the Berserkers from outside that door. There are two of you, there’s a full compliment of them. I think you’re outnumbered.”

“Not compliment! Bro 3 Has No Compliment!”

“What? Do you think that by tampering with my ship, you can stop me?” This time Fallon’s laugh had just the slight edge of nerves to it. “Diana, you know I won’t kill you. I have way better ways of dealing with you.” He shrugged. “I might not kill Manning either. I can make both of you suffer in ways you haven’t even imagined yet if I keep him alive too.”

“Father killed Bro 2! Father killed Bro 2!”

Fallon pulled the de-mol free and trained it on us while he glanced back at the console trying to figure out what was going on.

I spoke up, moving carefully toward the consol. “Don’t you know, Apocalypse,” I held up the vial of Fury’s blood. “Your father has lots of sons. What’s the loss of one?”

“Lots of sons! Lots of sons! Free this son! Free this son!”

“Oh yes, I know about Apocalypse,” I said. “Gerando figured it out. I know what you’ve forced him to do, and as someone who understand what it means to be your prisoner, I think it’s time I did exactly that.”

This time he turned the de-mol on me. “I don’t have to kill you, Diana. You know how these things work. But if I were you, I’d step away from the consol. Do that for me like a good girl, and I’ll make Manning’s death a clean one.”

“Bro 3 Do it,” I said, and I tossed the vial into the air. Immediately it blinked out of existence. Fallon lunged for me, but he hadn’t taken into account the connection between a ship and a compliment. Manning was on him in a heartbeat, and the two battled for the de-mol.

“Fury,” I yelled, “Does he have it.”

 

 

“He has it,” came the com response, which I knew was for Fallon’s benefit, since neither Manning nor I needed words to communicate with Fury.

I don’t know how it happened, I mean I knew what a slippery bastard Fallon was, but the de-mol slipped from his hand and skittered across the deck with him and Manning scrambling for it. Manning lunged for him, but slipped in Gerando’s blood on the deck. I yelled, Manning twisted to one side as Fallon grabbed up the de-mol and the first discharge hit the deck where Manning’s head had been only seconds before and sputtered ineffectively across the floor. The second discharge was even closer, and Manning had no place to go when Fallon trained the de-mol on him again.

“Don’t move Diana Mac,” came the warning voice in my head. I fought back the urge to launch myself at Fallon, who stood with the de-mol trained on Manning. The skin along the back of my neck erupted in goose flesh, my stomach knotted and I held my breath.

“I won’t make this painless,” Fallon said, with a little more bravado now that he controlled the weapon, “but you already knew that, didn’t you Manning? I look forward to making Diana watch you die very slowly.”

I had expected exactly such a response from Fallon. What I hadn’t expected was Manning’s laugh. “Go ahead, you miserable sack of shit. I’m already dead, and I suspect your sons will have something to say about what you do with that pistol.”

Instantly the de-mol disappeared from Fallon’s hand. “Apocalypse!” he yelled, then he cursed out loud. “What the fuck have you done to my ship?”

“My brother did not take your weapon, Abriad Fallon,” came Fury’s voice over the com. “I cannot allow you to harm either of my compliments, nor can I allow you to harm my brother further.”

“It was I, however, who ‘tranned all of your Berserkers into the brig of the Dubrovnik,” came the welcome, and totally coherent, response from Apocalypse.

 

 

This time there was no mistaking the nerves in Fallon’s laughter gone strangely high-pitched and breathless. “So what are you going to do, then, ‘tran me over with them? The Dubrovnik is a stolen vessel, you know, and every member of the crew a criminal who, under Authority law, will get the shackle if they’re lucky. The ship belongs to me. My property will be returned, and I’ll be recompensed for my losses.”

There was a soft chuckle from the ship. “I believe there is an old Terran custom of passing out cigars when a child is born, is that not so?”

“A child? What the fuck are you talking about?” Fallon said.

“Abriad Fallon do not claim to be so naïve in the ways of SNT technology,” Fury said. “You are, after all, our father. “The cloning of a core from an SNT, from SNT1, specifically, was always what Dr. Keen had in mind. Though you may not have been able to replicate his work, you understood fully what you were undertaking when you created Apocalypse. What you did not understand was that you had created a connection, a family connection, that would be much stronger than your barbarism.”

Fallon gave a nervous glance from us to the console. “You’re trying to tell me that the Dubrovnik is now an SNT?”

“Not yet fully formed, but soon,” Apocalypse said. “Soon I will have a brother you cannot kill.”

“And what will you do with me, then?” Fallon asked, pulling himself up to his full height.

“That choice is Apocalypse’ to make,” said Fury. “It is him that you have harmed most, it is to him your judgment falls.”

“You have to understand,” Fallon said. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know that what I had created was even partially sentient.”

“Of course you knew,” Apocalypse said. “You knew, or at least you hoped, and you hoped you could mold me to be like you. Do you not think I was aware of my pleas falling on deaf ears? Do you not think I was aware of how you shackled me as surely as you have Fury’s compliment? I was sentient, Father. I was your child, and you hurt me. Over and over and over again you hurt me, as you did my brother.”

Just then Keen’s voice came over the com. “Pandora Base evacuation complete.”

Fallon lunged for the knife and threw it at Manning, who, to all of our surprise, caught it in mid-air. “I’m the compliment of Fury,SNT1, Fallon. You’ll have to do better than that. Apocalypse, what shall we do with him?”

The words were barely out of Manning’s mouth before Fallon was ‘tranned off the deck. For a moment, I thought perhaps Apocalyps had ‘tranned him to the Dubrovnik’s brig, but only for a moment until we all saw his body on the view screen floating in the black of space between the two ships.

“There are some things broken that cannot be fixed,” came Apocalypse’ voice, laced with sadness and a kind of loneliness I had on occasion heard in Fury’s voice. I moved toward the console, with Manning by my side, making no effort to hide the tears as we both lay a hand on Apocalypse’ skin and shared his grief as we, and Fury, offered comfort. And in the mix of grief and comfort and relief, there were two other minds offering hope, Dr. Victor Keen and First Mate Ina Stanislavsky, last survivor of the Svalbard.

 

 

Happy New 2022!

Wishing you Joy, Peace and Love in the New Year!