Ethel the Space Pirate, Chapter Ten

Hi everyone,

I've got to crack down on the sequel to Beyond the Rain, consequently, I need a little more time to write, and poor Ethel is going to have to suffer. I'm going to do Ethel posts every other week. So this post will be the tenth installment of Ethel the Space Pirate. You'll have until Monday to vote, then I'll post the new post on the Wednesday of the week following. That gives me eight days to write a new post, instead of just one.

If you're a loyal fan of Ethel, you need to speak up. Otherwise I don't know how many people are actually reading, and it's hard to stay motivated with a deadline coming up. As always, if you'd like to read the whole enchilada, click here.

Ethel focused all her attention on morphing the string of coded gibberish into a single string of coherent nastiness as she blended it seamlessly into the security protocols. She had to pick up one of the nav-pings of the enemy ships, so she could enter into their command codes.

Her mother had more straight-forward and bloodier means of taking out the trash, she preferred stealth. Her dear mother had called her Mouse, intending it to be an insult. Ethel liked the name. She chewed holes in corners where no one ever looked, then sneaked in and took what she needed to survive. Mice were survivors.

Ethel tried to ignore the little voice of doubt that reminded her that mice were the bottom of the food chain on nearly every planet.

Code, concentrate on the code.

Her fingers flew through command sequences, a seamless extension of her rapid-fire thoughts. She'd done this before. It turned out well, not so much for Devar, but she'd escaped, and that's all that mattered.

Her eyes caught the flash of a nav-ping.

"Got ya," she whispered under her breath as Keo snuggled closer to her heart. She'd have to do this one on her own. She wasn't plugging her bird into anything else until she was sure he was okay. She'd have to rely on her mind and what was left of the viral signature in her personal com from when she'd infected Devar's ship.

She felt a disconcerting heat to her left, and nearly jumped out of her skin as Qinn's roughened hand eased down onto the console. He leaned forward, inspecting the screen, even as the warmth from his chest seeped into the bit of exposed skin at the back of her neck. She could practically feel the rough stubble of his jaw as he lowered his face next to hers. She kept her eyes on the screen.

"The miners are armed and I've set them up in flanking rows along route-C. It will give them the best shot, and funnel the Peva into a smaller space for us," he murmured right next to her ear.

She tried to stifle an unsettling shiver.

"You're not old enough to be Tel-Arnath," he accused.

Ethel's gut dropped into her boots. "I'm well preserved."

"I'm an archeologist, I know well-preserved." He didn't bother to look at her, but the reflection of his ice-like eyes skewered her from the screen. "You're a liar."

"You've said as much." She pushed away from him and kicked the android's foot. "L2, replicate this code into the security grid subset 0157-F.R code path 40976247."

The android seemed to sober up with the input of a coding command. She swung around and plugged her hands into the security grid.

"I'm going to find out what you're hiding, Ethel."

She glared at him. Men! They were about to get blasted out of the stinking desert, and he just had to puff his chest out and thump it a few times.

"This isn't a good time for me."

He chuckled. "Whatever you say, captain."

She thought about smacking him one. The first time had been strangely satisfying, but there were more pressing matters at hand before they all died. She had to figure out how to initiate her virus. She could use her com, but that would open up the signal to Devar, or she could risk her life and manually transfer the viral strain through the conduit to the amplifiers in the shields. The only other way to do it was to send someone into the storm in the conveyor.

Unfortunately, all three of those options could cost her her life.

What should Ethel do?

A: Use her com
B: Manually transfer the virus
C: Ride out in the conveyor

You have until noon EST on Monday Feb. 23rd to decide. The new post will be up on March 4.

Have fun!

Jess