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    The Mendicant
    The Mendicant
    The Mendicant
    Ebook73 pages1 hour

    The Mendicant

    By Kelsey Thomas

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    About this ebook

    Flynn didn’t count on ever actually being able to afford a ship, let alone winning one in a drunken game of poker, and she really didn’t count on the irritating A.I. that seems to exist only to make sarcastic comments at her expense, and she most definitely did not factor in the idea that she might actually require the use of the ship so soon. It seems to be yet more of the many troubles simply owning the ship brings her, troubles she finds she cannot quite evade. If she wants to have any grand adventures, she’s going to have to find a solution, which means learning to strike the right chord with her new ship’s computer, of all things. It seems they won’t be able to do anything but bicker, otherwise, and they obviously can’t get anything done if they continue to loathe each other this much. Unfortunately, actually solving this appears to be less simple. (A prologue to the entries of Captain Flynn.)

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKelsey Thomas
    Release dateAug 2, 2013
    ISBN9781301414420
    The Mendicant

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      Book preview

      The Mendicant - Kelsey Thomas

      The Mendicant

      By Kelsey Thomas

      Copyright 2013 Kelsey Thomas

      Smashwords Edition

      Cover photo courtesy NASA/JPL-Caltech

      This book is available in print at most online retailers.

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Flynn didn’t count on ever actually being able to afford a ship, let alone winning one in a drunken game of poker, and she really didn’t count on the irritating A.I. that seems to exist only to make sarcastic comments at her expense, and she most definitely did not factor in the idea that she might actually require the use of the ship so soon.

      It seems to be yet more of the many troubles simply owning the ship brings her, troubles she finds she cannot quite evade.

      If she wants to have any grand adventures, she’s going to have to find a solution, which means learning to strike the right chord with her new ship’s computer, of all things. It seems they won’t be able to do anything but bicker, otherwise, and they obviously can’t get anything done if they continue to loathe each other this much. Unfortunately, actually solving this appears to be less simple.

      (A prologue to the entries of Captain Flynn.)

      PART ONE

      It’s too loud to call directly for the drink, and, frankly, she doesn’t even think it’s worth it to try navigating up to the bar in this state.

      She had no problem with it earlier, with meeting and even encouraging the roaring laughter as she dealt out cards and counted winnings, but as the crowds settled, she matched them, and she now feels she could not summon up enough enthusiasm for her words to be anything but lost in the sea of murmurs that fill up the room.

      It’s not that she really needs another, anyway, as she has already managed to reach that pleasant buzz without falling into the stage that marks every spoken word as deserving of laughter, the threat that lurks in each new glass; still, old habits die hard, and harder still when there is no effort made to change them.

      Plus, she’s doing them a favor, isn’t she, by asking for their least popular drinks? Keeps them on their toes, anyway. In theory.

      She runs a finger over the edge of the (tragically empty) glass at that thought. If she wasn’t planning to hop the next transport ship to come in, she might even be able to support the establishment single-handedly. And why not? As far as they go, this one’s half-decent, even if the clientele are a bit rough around the edges.

      Done up in the style of the old world, the bar even seems a little homey. Naturally, this means that it is badly lit and poorly organized, but this is absolutely perfect for her current state of mind. There is nothing to distract, here, no unnecessary buttons or panels passed off as decorations, no managerial connections to the bets and games of cards, and no personal involvement with the staff, who leave well enough alone.

      Not like on the Miasma, where everything was all white, glossy surfaces and bright lights. Cleaner, too, most likely, but in that way that gave it the unfortunate air of a hospital waiting room. She suspects – hopes, at least – it’s a style that won’t last long. Those who frequent bars are usually doing so to avoid the scrutiny that such brightness may bring on, and… well, alright, maybe she’s just unsettled by the comparison, but it’s still valid.

      Flynn might have gone on thinking this way, with a head filled up with alcohol and travel plans, if the sudden and sharp clicking of heels did not alert her to someone’s approach; the distinct sound cuts into her thoughts, and she quickly realizes she is no longer alone.

      The woman – made up of all reds and blacks, angled eyes and smooth complexion and waves of hair – sits, sliding into the opposing seat with too-calculated ease, and tosses her head back in an obvious move to draw attention to herself.

      Not that it should be difficult, really – the woman would appear out of place anywhere within 20 klicks. Her dark skin appears perfectly clean; her clothes, well cared for; and her hair falls in styled waves.

      Why, then, she has chosen to sit at this table in a far-from-reputable bar placed in the station section normally reserved for less-than-reputable visitors is absolutely mystifying.

      Maybe it’s the result of too many Ryvvani Backwaters, but Flynn snorts, struck by how much the other is trying to fit

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