Saturday, September 1, 2012

A Scoundrel's Life for Me

              “Cap’n! Hey!” Martin shook the captain resting amid disheveled papers and empty bottles of alcohol.
                “Mmfph…Major…Talon, you…insol..nt…” The face planted body protested, sprawled in an awkward position which would normally seem uncomfortable.
                “You’re a Major pain in the ass, that’s what you are.” Martin argued, shaking her harder. Captain Talon groaned and attempted to swat him away. “Hey, c’mon. You fell asleep on your desk again. At least get up so you can move to your bed.” She groggily sat up in her leather desk chair, rubbing grime out of her eyes. Her mechanical arm had left imprints on her face where she had slept on it, giving the enormous gash on her eye competition for the center of attention.
                “Yeah, yeah,” She sighed, getting a bearing on her surroundings. She was in her office on her ship. Her antique décor gave her a sense of comfort as she stretched her arms out widely.
                “Have you been hitting the Absinthe again, Talon?” Martin asked sternly.
                “Nope,” She said as she reached out and took a swig from a mostly empty bottle of green liquid, clearly labeled “La Fée Verte: Absinthe ‘34.” Martin shook his head at her.
                “You’re a mess, Talon. You should take it easy one of these days. The crew hates seeing you like this.” Martin folded his arms over his chest. She shook the bottle in her hand at him menacingly.
                “Hey! I pay you guys more than enough to deal with my bullshit. So deal.” She put a metal fingertip on her lips. “Unless you are asking for a raise, and I’ll consider it; if you bring me more booze. And a cigar.” She commented.
                “That is not what I mean, and you damn well know it.” Martin glared at her. She pointed at him with a mechanical finger.
                “Hey, if you’ve got any better ways of dealing with traumatic dreams and mutilation, I’d love to hear it. If not, then can it.” She swiveled around in her chair and made a feeble attempt to stand up. “And in the meantime, help me to my cabin. I don’t think m’legs work right now.”
                Martin sighed and shook his head as he grabbed her by the waist, guiding her to her cabin
                The sun rose over the iron hull of Asylum, turning the metal plates into brilliant oranges and yellows as the light reflected. She hummed quietly as she hovered over the desert sands; her foils gently clicking as the wind pressed against them. The dust storm had subsided, leaving a flat plain of golden nothing for the ship to coast on.
                Talon stood on the balcony of her cabin, nursing a headache with a tankard of water. She lost herself in the serenity of the desert, watching the dunes pass by in silence. She gazed towards the horizon and let out a heavy sigh. This was the most tedious part of the journey, waiting to reach their destination. But you couldn’t just sleep through the trip; danger had the habit of feeding on the unaware. She ran her fingers through her hair, scanning for anomalies in the sand. She heard Martin approach and knock on the doorframe.
                “Come on in,” she beckoned, keeping her gaze toward the sands.
                “We should be nearing our destination within the hour, Cap’n,” He reported.
                “Thanks. Get everyone equipped and ready,” she ordered, Martin nodded in compliance. He regarded her with a concerned look.
                “You okay?”
                “Yeah.  Tired, I suppose,” she said flatly.
                “You sure that’s all?”
                “I dunno. I’m just wondering if I’ll ever stop running around. But I don’t think I could enjoy sitting still.” She took out a cigar from her pocket and lit it up, taking a slow luxurious drag. As she exhaled, the puffs of smoke billowed out of her neck through the vents of her mechanical lung.
                “Hmm.” Martin shrugged his massive shoulders. “One day, you may find something that allows you to sit still. But life’s all about finding it. So for now, you may as well run around while you still got legs, metaphorically speaking.” She smirked at him.
                “Cap’n, the wreckage is in sight, awaiting orders.” A voice over the intercom interrupted.
                “Thanks, Vayne. I’ll be on deck momentarily,” Talon answered. Martin nodded and left the balcony.

****Tiny sketch of the dieselpunk story, I've been working hardcore on the novel so new original content might be few and far between for now. But am use may ram my head against my desk once in  while****
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