Tuesday’s Tale, 3/28/2017.


And I had health issues again. Oh well, I can’t do much about it now, except post now before it’s too late! five minutes on the clock and away we go:

The end of the fight was both bad and anti-climactic; the last pirate rover ran as soon as they spotted him. They left behind two of their own, dead to traps. They did manage to dent the door, but it had held.

My new allies wanted to follow me into my ship, which was all kinds of terrible idea since the atmosphere was different and I had no idea if they could survive. I was forced to step quickly and engage the emergency cycle, slamming the door in their faces after the universal stop sign failed to be as universal as advertised.

I’d know soon if they took offense like humans did because I had no doubt they were waiting for me.

I set my suit to recharge itself, set the scanners on active sweeps, and checked the door seals. Now that the pirates knew where I was, I had to take steps. There was no doubt that an orbital bombardment would be on the way.

I was an idiot. A quick evacuation would fry my new friends.

With that in mind, I scanned for them and found them right outside the door. They wouldn’t be happy in my atmosphere, but they wouldn’t die in it. At least, not immediately, and that was good enough for me. I cycled the airlock.

And there you have it, see you next week! Assuming I’m not out of it again.


Tuesday’s tale, 3/14/2017.


Still considering that consolation prize. Does anyone out there in reader-land have ideas? For now, five minutes on the clock and chicken parmesan in the oven!

With his new allies and the pirate’s best trump card removed from play, he found cleaning up a snap. There would be time to salvage everything still usable later, but for now, he had to make sure his ship as secure.

The little insect escort followed him, even going so far as to hitch a ride on his vehicle. He let them. Proper communication could come later – as long as they weren’t throwing pointy sticks at him or something, all was well.

His ship was still landed where he parked it, which was a good sign. There were two pirate rovers near it, which was not. There was no chance for stealth this time; if he saw them, they had to see him. The only wild card was how many of his traps had worked.

And that’s it for this week, a full five minutes even spent on this bit. See you next week, or sooner if I figure out what I’m going to do to make up for my shoddy health.

Tuesday’s Tale, 3/7/2017.


So when I said next week, I should have said ‘next week, unless I’m dead’. It takes me awhile to crawl out of the grave known as my sickbed. For the record, I’m sorry, and we will see what I can do to make amends. But for now, this week and this five minutes are up.

The drone crested the rise, only one of two of its turbofan engines working, the other trailing black smoke. The homemade shrapnel bomb payload the drone had looked to be in perfect working order.

If that thing went off anywhere within ten feet of him he was dead, and there was no cover for him from that angle of attack. He took a shot at the drone but missed when its engine sputtered and almost died.

What neither side had factored on was that he had allies.

The little rocks or coconuts or whatever they were being rained on the drone didn’t really seem like much, but when one hit the turbofan exhaust and got itself shredded the final engine gave up all pretense of life and the drone spiraled out of control, overshooting him and blowing itself up further down the rise.

He looked up and had little trouble spotting the insects, his visor zooming in on them helpfully.

There was no time to worry about it; he repositioned and kept shooting.

And that’s it for this week! I’ll try to get back to consistency in posting, as well as think of an apology for all the weeks I’ve missed. See you next week with luck!