by Michael La Ronn | Jul 10, 2017 | Novel Snippets
Eddie Calls Home
The Puente Waste Management plant was a oval-shaped pod that could be seen high from the sky. It was a silver rosary in the sand, a glittering icon among the shifting dust.
As the ship descended, Eddie spotted rows upon rows of squares lined up outside the plant.
Cardboard.
Plastic.
Bales of them.
The rows were longer than when he left.
He smiled. Alma and the girls must have been hard at work. Alma could drive a front-end loader with a speed and accuracy that rivaled any man, and his cousin Josefina could fly in a forklift.
He counted the rows and did quick mental math.
Macalestern would buy the cardboard—they always needed recycled supplies for things like office projects and cubicles.
Recycled glass was precious and sold for good money. They had a separate plant that processed the glass. Off in the distance, he spotted mountains of glittering glass.
Paper wasn’t the family’s favorite—no one read books anymore—but they developed a steady stream of income selling to schools and manufacturers.
There was probably several million in gross sales down there right about now. After profits…maybe another fifth of a percentage point toward the mortgage after everyone was paid and Macalestern took its cut.
The family had several satellite recycling plants—six on Refugio and three more strategically placed around the galaxy. Along with garbage runs, which planetary governments paid annually for, recycling classes and education, eco-tourism to the planet, and waste management consulting, the Puente family took a loan that many claimed to be predatory, and they turned it into one of the most entrepreneurial success stories in the history of humankind.
“It’s the only way to pay,” his grandfather once joked, “One dime at a time.”
No one expected Benito Puente to get into the garbage business. But he filled a desperate need, and, well, someone had to do it.
But the family was not rich by any means. All their money went toward the mortgage. A single shared purpose. Financial freedom.
Eddie remembered the days on Traverse II, under the Zachary Empire, when having money was just a dream, and they worked you until your body was raw.
He liked Refugio much better even though he still worked until he was raw. At least he had his humanity.
As he neared the plant, he opened up the radio and called home.
His abuela, Antonia, answered in her usual decrepit but fiery voice.
“Bueno.”
“Mama Tonia, it’s me,” Eddie said. “Que pasó?”
“Oh, it’s you, mijo? Thank the Lord. I saw the news about the Argus invasion. Los cerdos are going to kill us all.”
Eddie chuckled.
“Nah, they’re just a bunch of pigs,” he said.
“They have guns, mijo,” Mama Tonia said. Eddie could tell that she was frowning. “Just yesterday, Angel was flying near Provenance and he saw one.”
“Angel?” Eddie asked. “Who’s that?”
“You remember Angel,” Mama Tonia said, annoyed. “Your cousin. On your grandfather’s side. He was at your sixth grade birthday party that one time, remember? His mother used to come see us on Traverse II.”
“Oh. I don’t remember.”
“Yes, you do. Anyway, he was on his way home from work and an Argus ship shot at him. His mother called me crying. Can you believe that? What a way to go—turned into bacon by bacon itself. It’s not right. It’s not right, and I’ve told your father he needs to man up and march into GALPOL and tell them to get their act together. It’s just not right.”
“No,” Eddie said, sighing. “It’s not right, Mama Tonia.”
He wasn’t going to shut his grandmother down. She was just concerned for his well-being. Fiesty as it was, it was coming from a good place.
“Are you hungry, mijo?” Mama Tonia asked after a moment of silence.
“Very hungry. Alma there?”
“She’s chasing your child around. I told her to discipline that boy more. The way he runs around this house, you’d think he had no parents.”
“Okay, okay. And Papá?”
“Reading the news,” Mama Tonia said.
“Mama Tonia, how are you feeling?” Eddie asked softly. “Good?”
“No one in this house pays attention to me. I’m going to fall down someday and they’re all going to miss me when I’m gone. Who else is going to cook them tortillas and carnitas, eh? And your abuelo, he…oh, never mind. ”
Her voice brightened.
“Now that you’re home…”
“What’s wrong with abuelo?” Eddie asked.
“Está bien,” Mama Tonia said.
Eddie sighed. His abuelo must not have been doing well. Each day was a struggle or a success.
“Come home and eat,” Mama Tonia said. “And did you bring home the fifteen quadrillion dollars like I asked you to?”
Eddie laughed. If he did that, the mortgage would be paid in full.
“Not yet,” Eddie said. “But I’m working on it.”
***
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by Michael La Ronn | Jul 8, 2017 | Novel Snippets
Eddie Finds a Mysterious Spaceship
Back in the rectangular, windowless airlock of the garbage ship, Eddie inspected the vessel. It was busted in every sense of the word, as if a hand had crumpled it up and tossed it among the stars.
Stepping around a pile of metal shards, he approached the ship carefully.
He’d only seen pioneer ships, never been aboard. Once, he’d seen one fly over the orange skies of Refugio, the lights on its stubby wings blinking as scientists studied the atmosphere.
It had been a PR debacle: the Macalestern Corporation had sent it without announcing, and several fearful families in a mountain village had fired coilshots at it, which would have been completely justified had it not been for a clause the company had inserted into Refugio’s planetary mortgage contract.
The Survey Clause. Page three-hundred and ten.
The Company, in exchange for a yearly credit built into Refugio’s mortgage payment, shall have the right to mount scientific expeditions at any time for any reason in order to learn more about Refugio’s terrestrial conditions.
Eddie himself had never seen the clause until recently. His grandfather had signed it generations ago, and even he, a shrewd man, could not have memorized the draconian contract outside of the payment terms. The payment terms alone were dozens of pages long, and it was a constant struggle to stay in compliance with them.
The coilshots had connected, causing minor damage to the ship’s hull. The company adjusted Refugio’s mortgage upward. There were riots everywhere, claiming breach of contract, racism and corporate slavery.
Eddie and his family sued and joined a class-action lawsuit against Macalestern. But they didn’t even make it to court.
A sleepy gringo attorney for the company showed up one day with a few pages of the contract highlighted. Eddie’s grandfather was waiting for him in his wheelchair, with a cowboy hat, string tie, and signature bushy mustache. He held a shotgun across his lap, told him to bring it on.
And then the attorney explained—in Spanish with perfect form—that the planet had violated the Survey clause, that the company had every right to countersue, and oh, by the way, here are seventeen other clauses that you’re violating, too, and we’ve known about this for the last few years but were nice enough not to say anything because we had empathy for your situation so why don’t you drop this little action while you’re ahead and we’ll pretend you’re not in breach of contract for those other things… but you better clean them up because we did you a favor in selling you this prime real estate that others would have paid double the money for, comprende?
It wasn’t the threat that had rubbed Eddie the wrong way. He expected those the moment the attorney walked off the ship. It was the comprende at the end, like a hammer coming down on a nail. Like he and his entire heritage didn’t mean a thing in the face of corporate profits.
It pissed him off. Made him want to punch that guy right in the face.
But his grandfather listened calmly, anger quietly boiling inside him. He cocked his shotgun, and then said “Get the fuck off my planet.”
The attorney went pale, returned to his ship, and flew away at full speed.
But the message was clear.
They had no standing to sue.
Eddie had never trusted Macalestern. But from then on, he really didn’t trust them.
And now a pioneer ship lay in front of him, a reminder of that not-so-distant memory.
Did it belong to Macalestern?
Probably not.
But he wanted to cash it in.
***
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by Michael La Ronn | Jul 6, 2017 | Novel Snippets
Devika Confronts the Biggest Human Rights Trafficker in the Galaxy
She focused her thoughts on the man she was after.
The lead scientist of the Zachary Empire.
Tavin Miloschenko.
A man who was responsible for the deaths and disappearances of over a hundred thousand men, women and children.
A man without, from what she could tell, remorse.
She remembered his leathery face, the day-old stubble, the way his graying hair fell on his shoulders. He wore golden sunglasses and a drab gray suit with a gold chain around his neck. She’d met him at the annual Zachary Galaxy Ball. She’d crashed the party, flashing her GALPOL badge to security. They couldn’t deny her. Everyone stared at her, dressed up in gowns and suits and masquerade masks. She’d found Miloschenko in the corner of the Grand Ballroom, a room with brocaded walls and windows as tall as three-story houses.
He was drinking a scotch, cradling a highball glass in the base of his palm. He raised an eyebrow when she approached.
“Devika Sharma, GALPOL,” she said, not wasting any time.
“So?” he asked.
“You mind talking to me in private, or do you want to do this the hard way and talk here in public?”
“A man of my talents,” Miloschenko said, “always does things the hard way.”
“Fine,” she said.
By then a crowd had stopped to watch.
“All I ask is that you keep your voice down,” Miloschenko said. He sat at a white table and motioned her to join him.
She grabbed a chair and straddled it backwards. The move, deliberate on her part, threw Miloschenko off, and he eyed her suspiciously.
“I know what you’ve been up to,” Devika said.
“Do you mean my successes in weapons technology?” he asked. “Please do tell me about my incredible accomplishments.”
“You’re trafficking slaves,” she said.
Miloschenko laughed. “Why would I do a silly thing like that?”
“I haven’t figured it out yet,” she said. “But I’m here today to warn you to stop.”
“Or what?”
Silence.
A new song played, and people began to dance across the dance floor.
“You’re overstaying your GALPOL welcome,” Miloschenko said. “You think that because you’re galactic police, you can traipse anywhere in the galaxy. But it doesn’t mean that you are immune from physical danger, Miss Sharma.”
Devika studied his face. His threat was serious.
“Threatening a GALPOL agent is a galactic offense,” she said. “Are you sure you want to continue that line of thought?”
“Threatening a leader of the Zachary Empire is foolish,” Miloschenko said. “Especially with no proof. The Emperor would be displeased to hear about this.” He leaned forward. “But then again, you don’t have any evidence to make an arrest, do you?”
She kept her face blank.
He’d called her bluff.
He was smarter than she thought.
“I’m here to give you your one and only warning,” Devika said. “We know what you’re up to. If you want to do the right thing, release all the people you currently have in your possession around the galaxy. We estimate the current number at about ten thousand. If you do that, maybe we’ll drop the investigation. If the human rights violations continue, however, I will personally ensure that you go to jail for the rest of your life and then some.”
Miloschenko sipped his scotch.
“Tell me, Miss Sharma,” he said. “Of all the things that GALPOL investigates—spacetime crimes, drug smuggling, Argosian aggression—why do you choose to waste your time on the Zachary Empire? We have been your staunchest allies.”
“And violators.”
“If you mean the terrible attacks we performed on Traverse II, please know that we were simply asserting our right to defend ourselves.”
“By killing innocent people?”
Miloschenko laughed.
“I believe you haven’t answered my question,” he said.
“GALPOL does not observe special relationships,” Devika said. “We observe special crimes, though.”
She stood.
“If you see me again, Mr. Miloschenko, it means you’re going to jail. And do consider that a threat.”
Miloschenko stood, flushed.
“And if you see me again… stay on your toes, Miss Sharma,” he said.
***
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by Michael La Ronn | Jul 4, 2017 | Novel Snippets
Flashback to Devika's Childhood
“Run faster, Devi!”
The trees blurred by as Devika Sharma ran barefoot through the dark forests of Coppice. Thunder shook the ground and the rain fell in great drenching slants.
She wore plastic beads around her wrists, and they shook in frenzied rhythm with her steps.
She didn’t know how much faster she could run. She hated the never-ending trees, the shadows, the wetness.
She could hardly see.
“Come on!” a little boy’s voice shouted.
And then she spotted a dark hand reaching out for her.
Rajinder—a little boy her age. Nine or ten. His black hair was matted in a wet clump over his face, and his red cricket jersey was soaked.
He grabbed her hand forcefully.
“We have to keep going!” he cried.
Devika found renewed strength and followed him. His hand was wet and slippery.
They slid down a muddy path. The mud went up to Devi’s ankles. Her feet burned from running across soil and rock.
Then the ground sloped upward again. They climbed a small foothill as if it were a mountain. Twice Devika slid backward, but Rajinder grabbed her and pulled her up. They used the trees as support, clawing through the mud until they reached the top of the hill.
Through the broken trees, they spotted a soup of orange lights blinking in the darkness like bokeh from an unfocused camera.
“We’re almost there,” Rajinder said.
“Do you think he’s still following us?” Devika asked, panting.
She looked back. The forest was as dark as the night. The brownish white trees were dull in the rain, like rows of evil teeth.
“Too hard to tell,” Rajinder said, hands on his knees. “You going to be okay?”
She leaned on his shoulder to catch her breath. “If it’s just a little while longer, I’ll—”
A squeal stopped her.
She whimpered as Rajinder grabbed her.
The ground shook, this time from another kind of thunder. Not too far off, several thick trees snapped like twigs.
And then snorting.
Sniffing.
And more squealing. Guttural, gut-wrenching squealing.
Devi fell face-first into the mud. She pulled herself up but slid forward, her back hitting a tree.
The beads on her wrist got stuck on a branch. She tried to untangle them, but the smooth surface of the beads was covered in mud.
Rajinder helped her up.
“Let the beads go,” he said.
She clutched them close to her chest. She couldn’t let them go. Not the last traces she had of her mother and father. Without them, she’d have nothing to remember them by.
“No!” she cried. “It’s the only thing I have from my parents!”
“You’ve got your memories,” Rajinder said. “It’s more than I have of my parents.”
“Please, don’t take them!”
“Devi, they’re making too much noise!” Rajinder said. He ripped the beads off her wrist, and she screamed as they landed in the mud.
She dove for the beads, but before she could grab them, a black boot stomped the ground, covering them.
Boots.
The smell of strong musk, body odor and crusted sweat.
Devi looked up slowly, past the boots, past the potbelly covered in leather and rings, past the chains and shackles hanging from a belt, past the chainsaw gripped by two bulky arms… to the face of an Argus.
A pink-skinned pig with floppy ears, a silver ring in his nose, and two sawed off, broken tusks. Its orange eyes were like fire in the rain, and it snarled at them as it revved its chainsaw.
***
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by Michael La Ronn | Jul 2, 2017 | Novel Snippets
Keltie Proves a Chauvinistic Pig that Women Rock
The airlocks on the Sun Deck opened, and the corsairs dipped out into space.
In the lighted cockpit of Keltie’s ship, all the buttons glowed blood red as shadows fell over them.
Keltie placed one hand on the control joystick covered in blue buttons and another on a small panel with a few buttons and a radar screen. She trained her gaze ahead, all her years of flight training transforming her instantly.
In a rearview camera on the corsair’s tail, she saw the luxury cruiser inch further and further away.
Keltie leaned down as the weightlessness began. She wore a reddish-orange astronaut suit that was slimmed down to conform to her body, and a helmet with a polycarbonate, dome-like face. She hated the reddish-orange color. Even though it was supposed to help make you easier to spot during a rescue mission, she always pushed the company to provide options. The color made her feel like a bloated orange star. Gray or blue would have been much better.
Charsworth and Alistair wore suits, too. In her camera view of the ship’s salon, the rest of the passengers also wore spacesuits, strapped into seat belts. They looked out the long, rectangular windows on the corsair’s side in wonder.
“We’re in space,” Keltie said into her communicator headset.
The six other corsair pilots confirmed.
“You’re all clear,” Emina said from the bridge. “You can activate your power now. Maintain a good distance apart. Proceed with your gravity rings.”
Keltie pressed a yellow button marked with the image of a spaceship with a ring around it.
The ship hummed as a mechanical sound activated behind them, around the middle of the ship. Then, a whirring sound and a loud motor.
The golden ring was working, rotating around the ship’s front, middle and rear to create centrifugal force. Flights without gravity were so… two thousand years ago.
Gravity returned quickly. She landed in her chair and the seat belt automatically tightened around her.
“Hold on,” Keltie said, grinning.
She pulled up on the joystick and pressed the acceleration button. Then she tilted the stick, throwing the corsair into a roll. Kepler spun in front of them.
“Whoa!” Charsworth said.
Keltie pulled out of the roll and accelerated even more. The force pushed her back into the seat like an invisible wind. Kepler passed beneath them in a bluish-brown blur.
Charsworth held onto the seat handles, smiling the whole time.
Alistair looked like he was going to be sick.
Keltie rolled again, ending upright in Kepler’s orbit.
She backed off the accelerator and the corsair slowed; the engine died down to a gentle purr.
“You really know how to pilot this thing,” Charsworth said. “That was one hell of a roll.”
Keltie smirked. “I don’t fly too much like a girl, do I?”
“Talk to me after re-entry,” Charsworth said.
“Talk to me after I vomit all over the place,” Alistair said. He opened his helmet and popped a pill.
Keltie’s communicator beeped. “Geez, Keltie—would you mind slowing down?”
It was Kamala.
“Would you mind keeping up?” Keltie asked. “We’ve got a planet to show.”
***
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by Michael La Ronn | Jun 30, 2017 | Novel Snippets
Keltie Investigates a Ship Power Outage
One by one, the lights in the hallway flickered on as the luxury cruiser’s generators hummed to life. Keltie Sheffield paused and relaxed a little, hooking her handcoil onto her skirt. Microgravity returned, and she dropped from weightlessness, touching down onto the metal floors with a grace that surprised her, since she was wearing wedges.
Footsteps clanged on the deck above, where she was heading. She didn’t know whether the people on Deck Two were going to celebrate or kill her. Power outages on spaceships were rare and deadly, especially when you were in deep space, light-years from the nearest colony station.
Alistair, her loan officer, bumped into her. She felt his hot breath on her neck. He patted her apologetically. “What do you think happened?” he asked.
“I have no idea.” Keltie’s eyes wandered upward to the ceiling. The vents kicked on, funneling a rush of oxygen through the hallway. She smelled traces of lime and coriander in the air, designed to make the guests feel more comfortable. It must have worked, because the scent calmed her heart, which had been racing for the two minutes during the outage.
She stopped at a glass panel in the wall and pressed a red button. “Emina, are we up and running at a hundred percent?”
“Everything’s online,” a voice said after a longer than usual pause. “It’ll just take a few minutes to get the ship back to normal. I don’t think we’ll see any residual effects from the outage.”
“You’re in the bridge,” Keltie said, “What did you see?”
“Nothing. Space is clear. But you’d better get upstairs to Deck Two. Mr. Charsworth looks pretty upset.”
Keltie sighed and let go of the button. Across the hallway, a row of portholes that glimpsed into starry space glowed, and the celestial view transformed into a beach shore with emerald waves and palm trees swaying in a light breeze—a simulation to distract the guests from the ship’s spinning, centrifugal force.
“Want me to do the talking?” Alistair asked. Keltie was glad he decided to follow along. Maybe it would have been advantageous for him to do the talking—Charsworth tended to be the chauvinistic type—but no, this, unfortunately, was up to her.
“I can handle it,” she said. “Maybe.”
“You sure?” Alistair asked as they made their way up an L-shaped staircase. “You know what they say. People always expect bad news from the financial guy. I was going to slap a seventeen percent interest rate on their loan. I don’t know what’s worse news—that, or this.”
They passed a row of handcoils hanging from the wall. Keltie unloaded hers, spilling several silver, needle-like bullets onto her hand. She pulled open a small compartment in the wall and dropped the bullets inside, then hung the coil on the wall.
“I’m not going to need this after all,” she said. “I thought for sure it was pirates.”
“I don’t know if I’d put your coil away just yet,” Alistair said. “Angry clients are sometimes worse than pirates.”
“I’m a real estate agent,” Keltie said. “If I can’t defuse an angry client, then he might as well kill me.”
***
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