Well do I have the deal for you!
I've placed my Dwarves in Space story up for a NaNo contest. What it means for me is that I have to beg people to vote for every one of my chapters -- PLEASE VOTE FOR MY STORY, I HAVE CANDY -- in that detached, effervescent way I exude. What it means for you is free novel about dwarves, elves, genies, orcs and some humans in space.
There are of course characters, locations, quests and pratfalls; but it's mostly an excuse to throw sci-fi and fantasy together and satirize all the cliches both genres provide.
You want more?
Fine.
Captain Variel Tuffman, the proprietor of one re-purposed ancient cruise ship, has a secret. One of those change your face, change your name, change your socks kind of secrets. She’s kept it at bay for five years by keeping out of human space but it’s all about to go pear shaped thanks to a third technician.
Segundo, Quito is what it says on his name tag but he wasn’t born with that name, nor was he even called it most of his life. Segundo is a fresh faced idiot recently apprenticed into the exciting life of bureaucratic oversight, but he was raised in a mystical Prophet School. Sprung up by some middle men to help religions hunt quicker for their messiah, they put some 50 boys through the ringer to find their one true prophet and then he is gifted to a life of very tall hats. It’s what happens to the other 49 that no one thinks much about. As the not chosen one, Segundo finds himself stumbling through a galaxy he knows nothing about while at the mercy of the hands on the Elation-Cru who accidentally kidnapped him.
The pilot of the illustrious, glorified tin can is Orn Lidoffad; a Dwarf with a debilitating sugar addiction. He’s technically Variel’s right hand man despite him missing his own right hand. If you want the best pilot in the galaxy you best be looking somewhere else, but Orn’s never parked a ship near a black hole or pinched the wyrm into the middle of a planet so he’s got that going for him.
He’s also married to the ship’s engineer, the frosty elven Ferra who spends half her time complaining about the ship even as she fixes it and the other half defending her flying coprolite to anyone that dares mock her baby. Getting on her good side is nigh on impossible, but you never want to be on her bad side. At least not without sleeping with one eye open at all times.
Rounding out the official crew is an Orc doctor, Demi Monde. He had a bit of training before being struck with the inexplicable need to get off his people’s planets and never ever go back. It was surprising he’d team up with a human captain, the war having only ended a decade or so back, but then there are so few species the Orcs haven’t warred with. Monde is a constant professional, making the fact he has to perform life saving operations on an old pool table all the more maddening for him.
To supplement the expense of keeping a ship in space, a pair of High Elven siblings pay rent. Taliesin is an official assassin through the elven guild. He is as silent as the grave, not because it’s cool, he’s just unused to so many social gatherings, like greeting someone over the malfunctioning toaster in the morning. His sister, however, is a Bard. Brena travels the turbulent stars spinning tales and transforming popular movies into one woman songs with the help of a few electronics and some old ventriloquist lessons. She’s got a small problem that, if left unmedicated, could turn into a very big and deadly one. That’s why her brother travels with her, to keep an eye on her. And conveniently she’s also there to keep a close watch on him and his own wandering eyes.
The Djinn isn’t technically crew or passenger. He’s also not technically a person, being classified as a non-corporeal species that can only communicate with others inside an eight foot tall suit made from volcanic rocks. Despite the smog of Gene’s form keeping himself carefully constrained within the suit at all time, the Djinn has taken a vow of silence, never uttering a word to anyone. Only Variel, his single ally on the ship, has even an inkling of what the Djinn wants.
And then there’s WEST, the Welcoming Engine from the old days of the ship who — after a quarter of a century of solitary confinement — went a bit loony in the logarithms. It takes special glee in messing with any and all organics that walk through its halls, especially if it can refuse to open a pod bay door or two.
I already have up for free eyeball scanning:I aim to do about two chapters a week, maybe I'll get it up to three if I'm in a particular editing mood.
So get out there and get reading, and if you could spare a click or two I'd KILL FOR A VOTE!
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