I am temporarily discontinuing my weekly free fiction.
It’s not that I don’t like doing, or that I don’t want to do it, or that I can’t write fast enough to do it. It’s that I’ve come to realize that I need to be very protective about the part of me that writes my fiction and I’ve seen how this could potentially be very hurtful to my artist child.
I am working on big changes in my creative life, which I hope will allow me to get back to the free fictions posts, but in a way different fashion. It will take a bit for me to get there though. I am hoping I can resume later this year.
Or, if I get bored at some point, I will post something that is currently published. I just don’t have enough of those stories to do it weekly — yet.
But for now, I write and keep it to myself until it is done.
“We think one of the hits penetrated it enough to depressurize it. He was still conscious when we brought him onboard, pounding at the glass to get out,” the astronomer explained.
Jadz pulled the cutting torch from around her and fired it up. “Stand back. This is going to spark.”
She went along the sems of the life pod hoping that these lines would be where the metal was the weakest. Without protective goggles, she had to cut at a strange angle. Still, every now and then she had to stop put out sparks on her clothes. A couple of sparking cinders singed the skin of her forearms.
Mouse must have sensed her hesitation. “No one’s here. You fixed their shuttle, so they went out to take closer readings of the nebula. They were so excited.” She gave a little roll of her eyes as she spoke.
The door before them slid open, revealing that Mouse had spoken truthfully. The Astrolab was empty.
“Whatever you did to get it up and running, thank you!” Mouse said.
The station needed a lot of work. Mouse had been right about it needing a lot of upkeep. Jadz fell into the easy rhythm of pulling maintenance records for each area of the station and just getting to work.
“Have you eaten anything today?” became a frequent question from Mouse, who often showed up with a wrapped sandwich in hand which she tossed at Jadz with a wink. “Don’t stay too much passed your shift.”
“How many people are here now?” Jadz thought this might be a good time to change the subject.
“The station is meant to be run with minimal crew since it would be mostly astronomers. There’s usually one United officer here, and they generally sleep a lot, along with a communications person to help run things. Right now, we’ve got seven astronomers, me, and you.”
“Does that make you the communications officer?”
“You got it. See how I did that? I communicated my position to you without actually telling you in words.” She wiggled her eyebrows and grinned. “I’m good.”
“I see that.” Jadz took a moment to enjoy the revelry of a new friend before putting her hands on her hips trying to take the same commanding stance her father had for many years. “But I don’t want my story being communicated to all the astronomers here.”
Mouse overlapped her hands on her heart and fell backwards on the bed. “Oh, you wound me!”
“I’d rather have them keep their eyes on the stars rather than me.”
“Oh, see? You’re sharp. Yeah, you’re going to do just fine here.” Mouse sat up, then stood. “Well, I guess there’s nothing left for me to do here. I’m sure you want to unpack, settle in, and explore the three centimeters of space we have here. Don’t worry, I think I can find my way out.”
Jadz watched Mouse as she started to leave and found herself wishing the other woman wouldn’t leave. It was nice to have someone to talk to. “Hey, Mouse, he was a commander.”
Mouse opened the door before turning. “See? I knew it. You’ll tell me more. I’m good at communicating.”
After Mouse had stepped backwards out into the corridor and shut the door, Jadz found herself smiling. This place might be at the end of the universe, but it was exactly where she needed to be.