Writing Prompt #7 – If I looked into your fridge right now, what would I find?

Eve’s Sacrifice

The Steady Matron settled into high, geosynchronous orbit above the Arecibo Satellite Museum., or thereabouts. Earth stopped spinning inside its reinforced magnetic field. It shimmered as it contained the roiling battles between methane clouds and water hurricanes. Captain Morgan fought the urge to spit. Instead, she just scowled at the ruined planet.

“Captain, Grandmother has sent word. Forty minutes until rendezvous, and 10 more for orbit matching and docking.” She smiled, feeling warmth relax the knots in her shoulders. Gloria was so excited. She waved internal coms open.

“Any special needs that we can satisfy for Grandmother’s crew?” She unbuckled, checking over the ship-to-ship docking equipment for damage done by the Trade Commission.

“No, Captain. They run with Earth atmo, but insisted on wearing breathers. I offered to cycle our life support, but Captain Gyeong read me the riot act, and would have none of it.”

Captain Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Gyeong is captain of the Grandmother? What happened to Captain Sullivan?”

“You didn’t hear? Arrested six planet months ago.”

“Thanks, Gloria.” She waved the channel closed and sighed. This hand-off would be both easier and harder than she’d expected. She wouldn’t have to deal with Gloria and Sullivan glaring daggers at each other over her. But Gyeong? She was perfect for the Grandmother. Just paranoid enough to keep her compatriots safe operating in the midst of the people they were leaving behind, but too paranoid to take the hand-off without lots of double-checking. They’d be docked for a while, but not long enough to arouse suspicion. It’d be tight. She brought up the system’s power distribution system and powered up the lab equipment in the garden. They’d have to stop and recharge on their way out of Earth space, but it’d be worth it to shave seconds off the transfer.

The air shifted in the room, and the scent of sandalwood beat Gloria into the cockpit. She knelt behind the chair, her clothes rustling. Her hands gripped the Captain’s shoulders, and kneaded tense, stressed muscles. She opened her mouth to ask Gloria if she would be prepping for the docking, and chuckled as she realized that was exactly what was happening. “That… is just what I need.”

“I’m sorry that you heard about Sullivan from me.” Gloria pushed into a knot next to the Captain’s shoulder blade, and smiled at the repressed scream. “Although, I’m sure you’re relieved that he and I won’t be at each other’s throats.” Another knot, this time met with a whimper. Gloria’s hands moved up, kneading mercilessly. “Gyeong is no dummy, though. She’ll see us through this.” Next the upper arms, muscles squeezed and released. The Captain noticed that her eyelids had slid shut without her permission. Mutinous bastards. “She’s got a botanist on board, who wants to adopt our greenhouse idea for the Grandmother.”

Her head lolled forward as Gloria’s hands moved to her neck. “In an Earth atmo ship? Won’t the plants clean out the crap that make it what it is?”

“Apparently, that’s the point. They figure that it’ll happen slow enough to condition the crew to non-Earth atmo in prep for a move. When the exodus happens, they want to use it for the colonists.”

“Huh.” Gloria draped her arms around Morgan’s neck, fingers brushing her collarbones. “That’s a fantastic idea.” Gloria’s breath was warm, tickling the back of her neck. “We’re going to have to recharge when we reach the Kuiper Belt. When we’re drifting, you and I are going to have some one-on-one time.”

“Is that an order, Captain?” Gloria had shifted, and her lips tickled Morgan in the most wonderful way.

“I’ll make it one if I have to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Gloria gently kissed the back of her Captain’s neck, then sighed. “you’d better get to the galley, if you’re going to meet them in the lab.”

Morgan released the pilot’s harness and swung out of the chair. “Right, as always.” They stared at each other, smiling, and then Morgan left. Two hallway segments and a right turn took her to the refrigerator. She reached to the back of the top shelf and pulled the red and green apple out. It’d take a bit to calibrate the lab instruments to verify and decode hidden within the seeds’ DNA. She should have it ready just as Gyeong and her people boarded. Timing would be everything.

Writing prompt #6 – What requires your patience today?

A Brave New World

“Of course I will prepare for boarding, officer.” Captain Morgan waved the communications channel closed as she lowered the intensity of the ship’s repulsion field and prepped the primary airlock for cycling. “I have nothing better to do than be boarded at five checkpoints along Sol’s busiest trade route, three of which didn’t exist last month. I AM MORE THAN HAPPY TO COMPLY!” She forced herself to breathe. Shouting used excess oxygen, and oxygen wasn’t cheap. Yet. She waved on the internal ship-wide communications. “Gloria, greet our trade inspector at the primary airlock, please.”

Her voice came back distorted. “Another one? Guns or no guns?”

The captain allowed herself a chuckle. The Trade Commission must be scanning them with something heavy duty to be messing with the internals. “No guns. Especially not where they could be found.”

“Yes, Captain.” Another wave, and the speakers in the cockpit silenced. She breathed deeply again, and counted to ten. They must know she was smuggling something, and that it was wanted by very bad, very powerful people. If they knew what it was, they’d never bother boarding.

She climbed out of her seat and walked under the sun-like lights, trailing her hand along the floor-to-ceiling leaves. She intended to be in the cargo bay, checking their decoy cargo – real cargo worked well and brought in more profit besides – when the Inspector was introduced to her. If she didn’t care about the cargo, red flags would wave. After all, getting this stuff to its destination was her livelihood.

She cranked open the doors to the hold, entered, and quickly cranked them shut behind her. She grinned, and felt real pride. Nearly half of the hold had been converted to a greenhouse, and the growing things were thriving. The ship’s need for oxygen refills was halved, they had a smattering of fruits and vegetables to liven up the meal packs, and the improvement in morale for both herself and for Gloria had been immeasurable. They’d installed the wall-climbers after that, which had again improved their independence.

The crank popped on the outside of the hold’s door, so the Captain grabbed the manifest and began scanning and comparing ID codes. Textiles, rare “earth” metals, ore, more textiles, more textiles, three canisters of pure liquid methane…

“Captain!”

The clipped and demeaning tone of the Inspector raised her eyebrow. She turned and approached him, all business. “Inspector.” Jackass. “What brings you aboard the Steady Matron?”

He glared at her. “Contraband. Your ship will be searched through for it. I assume your documents are in order?”

She handed him a transparent plastic card and let irritation sneak into her voice. “They were at the last four checkpoints, I imagine that they still are. You are, of course, welcome to search the ship. I’m just thankful that none of my cargo is perishable.”

“I’m sure.” He dropped the card into a reader, and looked puzzled. “Captain Morgan? Like the rum?”

She rubbed her temples. A world of their own was worth whatever patience these morons required.

Here’s this week’s Prompted Word!  Read more here.

Writing prompt #5 – You have magic soap. What does it wash away?

Lamb’s Blood

“How good to see you again, Father. And so soon.” The tall woman toweled sweat off of her brow and out of her close-cropped brown curly hair. “I’m sorry for my state, but you’ve caught me during my workout. If you’d made an appointment, I could have worn my Sunday best.”

The Priest’s frown deepened. The wrinkles covering his gaunt face followed, as if his face preferred the expression. He glanced over the warehouse, noting the makeshift living quarters, a nondescript car just inside the garage door, and a few crates, bunched together haphazardly. The rest of the building was open and unused. “I wouldn’t ask you to change on my account.”

She smiled brightly. “So rare to hear from those in your profession.” She tossed the towel over her shoulder and stretched her legs. “What brings you to my humble abode unannounced?”

The Priest heard steel in that last word, but mentally shrugged it off. This girl would never threaten him; he was the customer. “I need more soap.”

Her eyebrows shot up and the grin dropped from her face. “Holy shit.” His frown became a scowl, but she didn’t seem to notice. “You had a case. You’ve burned through it already?”

He crossed his arms. “My congregation has more than recovered its population, in fact, attendance levels are requiring us to refurbish and re-open buildings that have been closed for decades.”

She nodded, her hands on her hips. “You have a problem of unexpected demand. I gotcha. I run into that all the time. You need to up your regular order, and get a filler shipment expedited to meet the immediate demand, and prevent your consumers from finding what they need elsewhere.” She cocked her head to the side. “That sort of thing runs expensive, but you usually make it up in the long run.”

The Priest sighed heavily, and the lines in his face relaxed as far as they were able. “Excellent, yes, let’s do that. I am ready to pay for expedited shipping, so to speak.”

The windows that lined the top of the warehouse lightened as the sun rose outside. “Aw, hell, Father.” His frown returned. “I’d love to do that for you, because more profit for me, but I can’t. There’s only one manufacturer for your… product… and I was able to get half of their last batch, which I sold all to you.”

The cold metal digging into the small of his back was starting an ache. “You’re saying that you can’t get any more? There are four group baptisms scheduled for next week alone.”

The woman smirked. It was not altogether unattractive. “Wait, wait. You’ve added the soap to your baptism ritual? They think that Jesus is washing away their doubt? Oh, Father, that’s slick.” The smirk widened back into a full grin. “And probably grounds for excommunication.”

The Priest’s right hand crept to his back. “Are you threatening me?”

The smile stayed on her face, but left her eyes. “No, sir. Just stating the obvious. The reality of the situation is that I have no idea when more will be available, or if more will ever be available.”

Fear mixed with anger on his face. “I don’t think you understand, little girl. Priests across the state are ready and willing to incorporate the soap into their rituals to revitalize their congregations. As you say, they are risking excommunication for the good of the Church, and I have made promises!”

“Father, I don’t have any to sell you.”

He pulled the gun and pointed it at her, hand shaking. “Then you will take me to this manufacturer. Now!”

She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Have it your way.” There was a white blur, and his left eye exploded into pain and darkness. He dropped the gun to cover his eye as something warm flowed down his face. He heard screaming. His legs were knocked out from under him, and he fell to the cold cement floor. Pain exploded again, this time in his hip. The screaming stopped and turned into a groaning. An old man groaning in terrible pain. The woman appeared above him, holding the barrel of his gun in the towel. “You want to meet the manufacturer? Fine, you dumb old shit.” Her hand, and the gun, came down, and everything went black.

When the blackness receded, he felt like he was sliding off the edge of a cliff. One eye throbbed, and the other opened. The light was bright here, too bright to make anything out. There was an antiseptic smell, like a hospital. Two women were speaking quietly nearby. His hip ached as badly as his eye, and there was a burning pain in the side of his neck. He tried to raise his arm to wipe at his eye, or feel his neck, but it wouldn’t move. Neither would his left. Something was holding his legs down, too. Panic struck his chest and he started to struggle. His eye adjusted to the room’s light, and he saw the floor above his head and the lights below his shoes. He was strapped down to a bed or table, angled upside-down, and a red tube was hung from his table to the middle of the room, where the two women stood.

Other beds were arranged around the room, sporting clear tubes coiled on their sheets. Twelve or fifteen of them in total. Why were the other tubes clear, while his was red? Oh, God…

A familiar voice called from the center of the room. “Looks like Padre Wrinkleyface is awake!” Footsteps echoed in the room’s emptiness, and then a kind, middle-aged face appeared above him. Her black hair was shot through with gray, and she had amazing laugh lines at her eyes. He immediately relaxed.

“Father, I can’t tell you how happy I am that you wanted to visit my little facility. I have to admit, even though it’s a sin, I’m proud you get to see my new setup. The last one was just dreadful.” She checked something at his neck, and the burning intensified for a moment. “Oh, honey, don’t try and talk. You’ve been gagged for safety’s sake. And you’re such a brave shepherd. Our mutual acquaintance here has been telling me about all the good work you’ve been doing for the Church with my soap! And there are others that want to do the same!” The Priest saw her eyes gather tears, and his own started to do the same.

“Isn’t it great, Padre?” The other woman’s face pushed into view, devilishly amused. “The churches are going to get their soap after all!”

“Oh, dear, you won’t be conscious for much longer. I’m one of the faithful, Father, and what you’ve done with my soap is beyond my highest hopes. I’m going to make sure that your work continues, and that the other Priests get their supply. The blood you’re sacrificing is an essential ingredient. With as many times as Jesus has sacrificed His own blood through you, I hope that this carries personal, if not spiritual, meaning.”

The Priest’s eye slid closed, and he felt like he was floating. Her last words were so far away. “I have to prepare the other ingredients. Drop his body off at his Church; he deserves a proper burial.”