Saturday is here again and that means it’s time for a snippet! This week, I’m bringing you the fourth extract from Star Mage Exile. If you missed the story so far, go here to read the first post.
I’m about two-thirds of the way through writing Star Mage Exile. What I’d intended to be a 10,000 to 15,000-word novelette looks like it’s going to turn into a 25,000-word novella. The story just grows and grows as I find out more about Carina Lin’s world.
Star Mage Exile is set thousands of years in the future, when all memory of humanity’s origins have been lost. Carina’s magical clan have been scattered to the stars, living in secret, always fearful that their abilities will be discovered and exploited. In this extract, Carina has traveled to the young world, Orrana, where her merc squad hopes to rescue a child who has been kidnapped.
I think this will be the final snippet I’ll be posting from this story. If I let you know too much there will be spoilers! I hope you enjoy this part. Come back next week, when I’m hoping to begin a new story.
Star Mage Exile
Chapter Six
They set up at a hostel for transient workers while Captain Speidel went out to procure some weapons. Firearms of any kind were prohibited on the planet according to the signs at the arrivals section of the spaceport, but it seemed as though no one paid much attention to the rule. Carina had seen guns and rifles carried openly as they rode the transport to the hostel.
Orrana was a dark place in climate and mood. Thick cloud generated by frequent volcanic eruptions blocked much of the sunlight. As a result, vegetation was minimal. Deep gray-green, straggly stems covered the black soil to the horizon. Speidel had told them that animal life was at the microorganism stage, so they had nothing to fear from the indigenous species. Carina doubted the same could be said for the Dirkens or their employees.
The locals that she’d seen at the spaceport wore sour or suspicious or desperate looks, judging by what she could see of their faces. Their breathing masks covered the nose and mouth and were fastened by a strap on each side of the face and one over the top of the head. The clothes the locals wore were basic and utilitarian and their hair was plainly cut. Fashion was not of any importance on Orrana. Survival was.
The mercs’ story was that they were a team of smelting workers. It was a subterfuge was intended to account for their rough, burly appearance. If asked, they were to say that they were looking for work and were not interested in setting up their own operation. Conflicts over land, mining rights, and raw materials were rife, and the mercs were to expect scrutiny in that regard.
As she stood in the shared hostel room and pulled tight the wide belt she wore, Carina hoped that no one would ask her any awkward questions. She didn’t have a clue about smelting.
Atoi stepped into the room. “Come downstairs,” she said. Her voice was muffled by her mask, but the comm Carina was wearing conveyed the woman’s words. “Speidel’s back. We’re leaving soon.”
Carina caught her reflection in a mirror as she left. She so rarely looked at herself in a mirror, let alone saw herself in civvies, that she paused a moment to take in the sight. She was wearing narrow pants that went down to her calves, boots that fastened with interlaced straps and a plain, open-necked hemp blouse. Speidel had told them to stick to dark colors.
Her figure was athletic but not bulky, and she didn’t—yet—have that hard, intense expression that a life of killing had given so many of the others. Of all the squad members on the mission she thought she looked the least like a soldier. Perhaps she could find another way in life, after rescuing the little boy.
Did she look anything like a smelting worker? She didn’t think so, but her outfit would have to do.
She followed Atoi downstairs to the hostel bar, where the others were hanging out. Speidel wasn’t there, and they were drinking the local brew. When Carina sat down at the table, someone pushed a beaker of frothy liquid in front of her. The smell of it told her the drink was some kind of alcohol. When she hesitated to try it, Jackson leaned over and said, “The captain said it’s okay. Just one drink. We have to blend in.”
Carina sipped the deep green liquid. It tasted like someone had fermented the local vegetation, which was probably the case. “I think I’ll pass,” she said, pushing the beaker away.
Smitz laughed. He grabbed her cup and drained it.
Speidel came into the bar carrying a bulging bag. He set it down on the table and handed out weapons. Though the bar was full of the hostel’s patrons, no one took any notice. It was as though on Orrana not carrying a weapon would be strange behavior.
Jackson held up his gun to examine it. “Where’d you get these from, Captain? The last century?”