Early Works Part 4 The Hybrid-Worlder version 3

Rhyl Dunbar from a few strips I did for a second story. The walking stick would also have been an energy blade.

This is the opening to the third version of the Hybrid-Worlder, though I think by now that the story had changed, eliminating the hybrid-worlder by converting the creature to a pet or bio-bot of a criminal, mirroring the change I made from a story to a comic book. 

It is interesting for me to see how many little items that I included in The Bright Black Sea that have been floating around in my head most of my life. As I mentioned, when I set out to write the Litang stories, I chose to go with rocket ships instead of starships just to go full retro. Other than getting by without "artificial gravity", I didn't make too many changes -- I just moved all the planets I thought I'd need a lot closer...

That said, here's the opening;

Chapter One

The celestial cargo ship, Cir Ay Cey had arrived in Aero Day world orbit a triwatch ago and now lay the prescribed 100 meters astern of the buoy-satellite 7157. Moars Crimptyn, or first officer, was aft in the cargo control tower overseeing the disembarking of our container holds of Aero Day cargoes. Captain/Owner Briter Kedinn was downside on ship’s business. I held down the harbor watch on the ship’s bridge.

It was my job to monitor the ship’s systems, avoid collisions, repel pirates, harbor thieves, and bum-boat merchants. But mostly it was to act in loco parentis for the members of the ship’s company downside, at leas in Aero Day orbit. I had little to do just yet because the crew had not been downside long enough for the calls to start coming in to raise bail, extend credit or pick up the pieces of shipmates. Consequently, I sat slumped in a deck chair, feet propping up the bridge railing, and dreaming in the warm Aero Day sun of my downside leave on Yisvaalr, the moonlet that served as Aero Day’s port. It was going to be a downside leave fit for a hero.

The communicator implant in my right ear sparked to life. ‘Kedinn calling the Cir Ay Cey. I’m on my way up,’ snapped the Skipper’s voice in my ear.

I flipped a though-activated switch opening the ship’s transmitting channel and said a’loud, ‘Cir Ay Cey acknowledging, Captain.’ My voice echoed hollowly in the silence of the otherwise deserted bridge.

I thought-switched to the ship’s array of sensors. Connect by the ship-link – a neuro-cybernetic interface with the ship’s computers and sensors – I was able to monitor all ship systems, ship functions with the speed and directness of thought. I watched the Skipper’s 30 meter gig, identified by its radio beacon, shot up from the Small Craft Port on Yisvaalr and twist its way through the crowded orbital roadstead. As it closed with the Cir Ay Cey I climbed to my feet and leaned against the railing to watch its final approach.

Through the crystal hull plates that enclosed the Cir Ay Cey’s navigational bridge I looked out upon a brilliantly beautiful vista. Less than a hundred kilometers away floated the smuggy grey-brown sphere of Yisvaalr, and beyond, smaller, brighter, floated the world of Aero Day, blue and sparkling white. Overhead hung the golden globe of Aero Day star, driving away the shadows of stars on the bridge, sparkling of the brass fittings and making the pale teawoon wood deck and darker cabinets glow. And against the blackness of space, the silver haze of the Inlopar Star Cluster and the ten thousand stars of the AeroDay Cluster, like scattered jewels, glistened the laser beacons of the cestial shipping in orbit and the shooting stars of the lighters and countless small craft weaving amongst the teeming stellar anchorage.

Suddenly the green and silver gig was alongside, sliding slowly towards the boarding dock that extend from the main airlock. As the gig’s hatch matched the Skipper deftly matched velocities and I directed the jaws of the outer dock to close to secure the gig and seal a free air link with the gig. A minute later the Skipper reached the bridge.

Captain Kedinn was carrying a small aluminum case bearing the black and silver crest of the Aero Day Celestial Survey Society. It contained the computer navigational records of other ADCSS member ships who had recently sailed for the world or worlds we proposed to make our next port of call. The records are used to update and expand our ship’s own charts.

‘Welcome aboard, Captain,’ I remarked respectfully.

Kediin tossed the charts case across to me. ‘Input these plots and begin to update our charts. I want to see the fastest Kantea On orbit you can devise. You have ten triwatches.

I snagged the fly charts case, but stood rooted to the teawoon wood planks of the bridge. ‘Surely the charting can wait until after the refit is completed,’ I protested.

I saw in Kedinn’s eyes something that might have been fear – for an instant – before they became awash with anger.

‘We slip orbit for Kante On in ten triwatches. I will give you the special code to release Captain Knzar-Rode’s Kantea On orbit charts. Everything must be completely updated and courses plotted before we sail,’ snapped Kedinn.

I stood and stared at Captain Kedinn. I had served under Briter Kedinn for almost fifteen ship-years. I knew him and his methods pretty thoroughly. Captain Kedinn is a solid built hominoid specimen. His shoulders are broad and muscular, his midships bulges, his legs are short and solid, his arms almost massive. His untamed hair is black and he sports a full beard that curves forward along the outer edge giving his face the suggestion of a brooding war-ax. From beneath his thick eyebrows, his dark eyes sparkle, under the best conditions, with a fierce sort of bonhomie. But in port, with a planet looming about, the bonhomie is missing, for Kendinn hates planets. He rarely goes downside and is always in a great rush to clear our cargo and put the hated things astern. Ship’s company ascribe this reaction to planetphobia, said to be common amongst those, like Kedinn, who are born and raised of sarfeer parents aboard ships. Kedinn’s explanation is that the ship earns money in passage and costs money in orbit. Likely it is a combination of both. But in any event, Briter Kedinn is a pure sarfeer, born to live in the cold light of stars aboard a tiny world that plies the vast nave of creation. But though I knew the Skipper well, I had not expected this.