The Steemiverse: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Reader Ship Flying Wardrobe. Its mission: to seek quality content in the Stream of Steem. To curate unknown writers. To boldly upvote posts no man has upvoted before!
I watched as the one guy--I forgot his name. I think it was something to do with a number--lifted the potted petunia from the escape pod.
He blinked twice, tilted his head, and blinked again. "Why would someone dedicate an escape pod to a plant?"
"Beats me." Zombie shrugged. So did his worms.
"Logic dictates that the plant is of great significance." Six--was that his name?--turned on his heel and headed for the cargo bay doors. "Otherwise, it would be highly irrational to delicate an escape pod to its survival."
Zombie followed him out. Before the doors could close on us, Liam and I hightailed it after them. Maybe they'd lead us to a secret food stash.
"Significant, hey?" Zombie scratched his head again. "Has it got brains?"
"You're not eating the petunia. I need to study it. " Eight sped up his steps.
"If you rolled those leaves, I bet you could smoke 'em," I ventured.
"Raaaaooooooorrrrghlllllll!" Liam wagged his eyebrows.
"Hell no, furball." I jabbed him with a finger. "You're not smoking anything. Do I need to remind you what happened last time you got high?"
Zombie and Five stopped dead in their tracks and turned around and spoke in unison. "What happened?"
"Rrrrrruuuuuuuullllrrrghhrrr." Liam shook his head and looked at me with such a pleading expression, I just had to give in.
"Oh fine. I won't tell." Rolling my eyes, I walked on and pushed the two guys ahead of me.
"But--"
"Sorry, Zombie. I'm sworn to secrecy." I pushed him a little harder and we continued to the bridge.
When we walked in, huge, fluorescent lichen-green letters flashed at us.
Took you long enough.
Zombie flinched. “Sorry Bex.”
Nine looked at him, tilted his head to the side, and flinched in a manner almost identically a few seconds later. “Sorry, R2-BEX2.”
The letters on the screen jumbled together and realigned themselves to form a new message. You there. Breathers.
I looked up. “Are you referring to us, Sir? Ma’am? It?”
Do you see any other lifeforms hanging around? And it’s R2-BEX2 or Bex. What is your designation?
“Rwwwwwooooolllllrrr?” Liam perked up his ears.
“Designations? Uhm…” What were we supposed to say?
Your designations. How are we supposed to address you? The blue one is Zombie. The synthetic one is Seven. The computer mimicked a sighing sound. God. Couldn’t we at least get intelligent stowaways?
“Rrrrwwwwwwwuurrrrrgll.” Liam turned to walk out of the bridge but I grabbed his tail.
“Come on, Lou. Play nice,” I mumbled between gritted teeth while pretending to smile. “Oh, you mean our names. Coulda just said so. I’m Tiny, a space witch from the planet Freel Odr. This is my familiar Liam, a woolfkie from the planet Aaaaaatchou.”
And why are you here?
“Well, ah, Bex, ma’am, sir…” I swallowed. “Why not?”
Another simulated sigh echoed through the speakers. Well, since my crew is currently obsessing over a potted plant, can you plot a course to Libris?
The letters jumbled and rearranged themselves again. An old friend of ours, Jay, has messaged us to pick him up. The planet seems to be infested with a malignant strain of the PO-E-3 virus. It causes something called Proget’s disease. We need to extract him immediately.
“Yes, Sir. Bex. I’ll try.” Hesitantly, I walked over to the pilot’s chair, sat down and closed my eyes. I could do this. The Steem would guide me, as it always had. Eyes wide shut, I pressed some buttons and swiped this way and that on the control screen. The console blurped and a message flashed.
Please state destination:
I typed in Libris, hit what looked like the enter button, and was pressed back into my seat as the ship jumped into hypersteem. Behind me, crashes sounded as the jump tossed crewmembers this way and that, since they weren’t in their chairs yet.
I looked around at the chaos in the bridge. Liam lay against the backwall, mumbling something under his breath. Zombie and Seven were sprawled on the floor, hanging on to the petunia's empty pot for dear life. Against the back wall next to Liam lay a strange cat-like humanoid. I grinned sheepishly. “Oopsie.”
To be continued
For more Steem Wars adventures from the crew of the RS Flying Wardrobe, tune into the blogs of @bex-dk as R2-BEX2, @thinknzombie as Zombie, @idenkcall as Seven O’Data, @damianjayclay as Jay, and @jonknight as Carnif Geb, AKA the petunia.
If you would like to read some of my work, feel free to have a look around on my off-Steem blog page by clicking the banner. My library there contains all of the pieces I’ve written since starting my blockchain adventure.
About the INKubator
As a writer, finding the right community–the right tribe–makes all the difference.
For me, that’s the INKubator. I’m one of the admins there, and I have to say I’ve never been more proud of something I helped build, than I am of the INKubator.
We help each other improve, lovingly drown each other’s drafts in red ink, and help each other brainstorm.
But we’re more than a writing club. We’re a family. We root for each other as we submit pieces for various publication venues.
We cheer and join in victory dances when a piece is accepted.
We support each other through the disappointment of the inevitable rejections.
We hang out, playing as hard as we work, and from the madness of our conversations, more stories are born.
As a community, we span the globe, with members from Asia, Australia, Europe and the US, so chances are there will be someone there if you should decide to drop in.
If we’re quiet, that’s because we’re writing.
If you love writing, we'd love to meet you!
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Great work. The color of my writing is appreciated
Thank you. I knew you'd like it.
Crap... lost my pot again.
We'll get you another. Don't worry. We're headed for a sale as soon as we save Jay from the PO-E-3 virus, remember?
but, butt... now I'm naked.
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