Beyond The Fringe literary adventures.

[Angry_Red_Man]

Howdy folks.

It's time.

Time to share.

If you've written short stories, poems, songs, or if you just want to try your hand at it...   this is the place to do it.

No judgement unless you want some constructive criticism.

Everyone is welcome to participate, no matter the skill levels involved.

No erotica until we get spoiler tags please. Those will be coming soon. But even that will be welcomed in this thread. Just make sure to use the spoiler tags and give a NSFW warning so those who prefer not reading that can skip over it.

So if you have it, and you are comfortable sharing it, please do.

I look forward to seeing how creative my fellow forum members can be.

[Angry_Red_Man]

This link will be going into my sig line.

[Angry_Red_Man]

The Titan Run.

The pounding on the door to my cabin is killing me. "Go away. Sleeping."

The sound of my executive officer's high pitched squeaky voice is enough to ruin even this epic hangover.

"Captain. You need to come to the bridge. We picked up something on scopes, and it's closing fast."
"The last time you dragged me out of bed it was for a rock. One that was heading in the wrong direction to hit us."
"This one changed courses and sped up Captain." 

If she's pulling my leg, I'm gonna space the little monster. I don't care about regulations and insurance costs going up.

"On my way."

Prying myself from my bunk and grabbing a Dry-Dock drunk and hangover cure pill I make my way to the bridge. XO and Rudy, the pilot, are pointing at the scope and making too much noise. I wave them to silence so I can think. I can see what the problem is now. The plot lines on the scope show the thing making a significantly sharper turn than we can make on this old rust bucket of a transport ship. It made a sharper turn than anything human could make. 

"Well XO. It looks like I'm not spacing you today. Any thoughts on what it is?"
Rudy chimes in, "I'm getting a better read on that thing. It's about the size of one of our personnel shuttles."
"That's not that big is it then. What's it burning for reaction mass?"
"Nothing that I can see Captain. I don't know how it's moving, but it'll be on top of us in a couple of minutes."
"Well, I guess we'll find out what this is all about in a few minutes then. I'll be in my cabin."
"Captain?" 

I close my door and open my closet. I'm not supposed to have this on the ship but I sure ain't going to leave it with anyone. An ancient Walther PPK-L chambered in .22 LR. One magazine in it and another that holds seven rounds. I hope it's enough if whatever this is turns out to be hostile. I can't believe this. Twelve years I've been hauling cargo on the Chovey-Marak Belt Manufacturing plant to Titan Base run, and I've never seen pirates. Now I have them coming in hard. 

The clank of an airlock getting established gets me out of my cabin and into the central hall.
Rudy sounds shocked. "Where did you get that? I thought the UN small arms treaty of 3105 got rid of those things?"
"Family heirloom. Passed down through the years."
"Oh. You still shouldn't have that."
"I'm glad I do now. We're getting boarded by pirates."
"I'm not sure about that Captain. The ship doesn't match anything in the database." 

We're all startled when a three foot tall chicken in a space suit comes around the corner.
"Is this a joke?"
"Buc, buc." Bang.

Oops.

Rena sounds shocked. "Captain? You just shot the chicken thing. The first contact with an alien and you shot it."
Rudy quips, "That's going to go over well with the UN."
"We need to get rid of the evidence or we'll all end up in the Arctic Circle island gulags." 

Rena says "I used to work on a farm. I can clean that, and we can jettison the ship. The UN doesn't need to know what happened and we can have fresh meat instead of that tube paste. Some other ship can find that shuttle."
"I may not space you tomorrow if you can spice that thing up to make it taste good."

Rena beams at me and Rudy starts for the airlock to see how to get rid of the chicken's ship. 

Not a bad day at all.



"Wait up Rudy. Before we dump it, let's look in there and see if we can pick up some salvage."

[DaJavoo]

The Titan Run.

[Angry_Red_Man]

The Star Exchange

As I am walking my route, a young human comes out of a house followed by a parental unit of that species. The young human blocks my path which triggers my autonomous response. 

"Star Exchange is prepared to receive your submission. Only new and original artworks of any kind may be submitted. Must be eighteen human years old or have parental approval to submit your work for galactic auction." 

The young human is very solemn and serious for his kind. "I would like to submit this please." The child is also very polite. A credit to its creator. "Standard rules apply. The work must be your original creation, and for one of your age, you must have parental approval." The child nods and says "Mom said I could." I look at the human female, and she nods at me in confirmation of this. 

Extending a pseudopod with a palm reader to her, I explain "The parental unit will place her palm on the reader and confirm that she approves of her offspring participating in the Star Exchange." She does so. I move the reader to the child and explain "The participant will confirm that the artwork is original and it's own creation." "I'm a boy, but yes, it's mine. I made it." "Excellent. Your palm graphs have been cross-checked with Galactic Database, and your identities are confirmed." 

To add seriousness to the next statement my programming makes me pause for three of their seconds before explaining, "There may or may not be any bids on your item. If there are, then you will receive payment when the bidding finishes and the product delivered to the winning customer. This payment will be billed directly to your account. There is no cost to placing an item in the Exchange, but a commission of five percent of the final sale price will be authorized as payment for processing. Do you understand the rules?" They both nod earnestly and affirm their understanding verbally when prompted. 

"Excellent. Please place the item in the cabinet to your left." The child unrolls a page of paper with what appears to be your standard family stick figure drawing in crayon. There is a house, the sun, grass, trees, a cat, and a family of three in the picture. My predictive algorithms complain that this will be a waste of time as this is a standard child art project across the galaxy. I upload the information and image to the Exchange. That is what my program says I must do even if I do not think it worth the time.

I am startled by the ding of a bid put in. The humans in front of me are surprised as well. "You have a bid of seven Galactic Federation Credits." Another ding. "Nine Galactic Credits." Another ding. Another. They start coming fast and furious. I am having a hard time keeping up verbally so I project a holographic representation for the humans so they can watch the bidding war in real time.

The boy calmly states "I knew it would sell. My daddy would have bought it. There had to be other daddies out there that would like one too." Beyond all of my predictive programming expectations, the bidding climbs over fifty thousand GC before tapering off with a winner at sixty-one thousand GC. 

"Your account has been credited with the final sale price of your item. It will now be delivered per our agreement." "Thank you mister Star Exchange robot. We'll see you again next week."

[DaJavoo]

I hope that place ain't Zimbabwe.

[Echo]

Me and my backpack, my bow and my knife..
A life this simple don't cause much strife.
Don't give no fucks if you disagree.
Ain't no better feelin' than bein free.

[Echo]

That's all i got.

[Angry_Red_Man]

That's all i got.

I like it. It's very Browncoat.

[Angry_Red_Man]

The Questing Knight:

"Thank you, Mayor Glisbalm, for your warm hospitality." 
"It was entirely our pleasure, Sir Shawast. I hope your quest is fruitful." 
"As do I. We will solve your dragon problem." 
"The blessings of God go with you, Sir Knight." 
"And to you and your village Mayor." 

With the formalities out of the way, I head back for my porch to watch the knight and his train finish their preparations outside of the inn. It is a well armed and armored group. They come from wealth, and Sir Shawast is the third son of a cadet branch of the Gildenbank family. Known throughout the land as being wealthy and influential with the King. 

Donald the Smith comes and stands with me. I nod an acknowledgment of his presence, and we watch the preparations together for a few minutes. 

"They spent well at the inn." 
"So I heard Mayor. They also had all their horses reshod while they were here. I sharpened weapons and hammered dents out of armor as well." 
"I heard they were recruiting for their Warband. Did anyone take them up on their enticements?" 
"Big Tom did. We warned the rest of the kids away." 
"Well, that's good then. Tom is a bit of a trouble maker. The rest of the kids have a future." 
"True. We could have probably turned Tom around though." 
"No, Donald. We couldn't. He had the look in his eye. The same his father had. And that man was nothing but trouble until he ran off leaving his pregnant wife behind." 
"All right then. You're the boss because you know this shit. I'll stick to hitting things with a hammer."

We both chuckle and wave as the party mounts and starts their procession out of town. They are a very pretty lot with their shiny armor and crisp banners and pennants flapping in the breeze. They vanish from sight, and even clop of the horse's hooves fade into the forest in just a few minutes. Donald stretches and pops his neck. 

"So Mayor, you think they stand a chance?" 
"No. Not a single one." 
"I didn't think so. That dragon is tough." 
"Don't forget the fire breathing. He'll cook them in their steels suits and eat them like that shellfish bug thing we had when we went to the Capital last year for the Meeting of Mayors and the Smith's Convention." 
"I think they called that thing a lobster. I was skeptical, but it tasted great with that melted garlic butter." 
"It did. But back on topic. I don't think they stand a chance. We'll find out soon enough, though." 
"We will. Just so you know, little Mary is back in town."
"Good. It took her long enough to make the trip. Did she stop for mushroom picking on the way?"
"She did. But only on the way back."
"So the dragon knows these fools are coming?"
"He does. He's been warned and will have his traps set in plenty of time."
"Good. Well if Mary picked up mushrooms on the way back, I'm heading to the inn for breakfast. You know Alfred will be making those omelet things for people, and I want to be one of the first in line for it." 
"I'll join you. I have some projects, but none are serious enough that they can't wait now that little mister 'call me Sir' has departed." 

That earns a laugh for both of us, and we make our way to the inn for breakfast. It'll be at least two days before the dragon comes and drops off our share of the take. Then we have to let Norton know he has a run across the border to hock the jewelry and weapons. 

Being the Fence for a Dragon is not precisely the best of deals, but hey, it beats getting eaten.