Running on caffeine and spite with nothing left to prove.
Maryn Alessi retired from mercenary service after her last assignment went horribly sideways and settled down on a quiet planet with the love of her life. Unexpectedly widowed, Maryn must fulfill a promise to return her mate’s ashes to zer home planet for funeral rites, but a brutal civil war has destabilized space travel.
Former Artemis Corps sisters-in-arms and their sassy ship, the Golden Girl, are up to the task, counting on luck and their rather sketchy cargo business to get Maryn passage through the contested star lanes. But when the crew of the Girl rescues survivors of a ruthless war crime, Maryn and her ride-or-die friends must take up their old profession to save the lives of innocents from a genocidal dictator.
WHISKEY AND WARFARE is the first of The Team Huntress Flights.
EXCERPT:
“We’re in position.” Scylla’s voice came over the headset. She squinted at the display as the external floodlights played over twisted metal. The ramp began to descend, letting the void in. A cold sweat broke out over Maryn’s skin at the sight of interminable space.
I’m inside, not out there, she reminded herself. She tried to train her attention on the heads-up instead, but her eyes refused to focus. “Girl, adjust the holo projector for plus three distance and magnification.”
“Setting display for granny glasses,” the ship responded.
“What did you say?” Maryn blurted.
“That’s what I call it. Girl does too, now,” Scylla said over the comm.
Her eyes finally cooperated. The blasted hull of the ship spun beneath them and she caught sight of the cylindrical life pod, projecting part way out of the tube from which it had been launched.
“I see it. Match trajectory and rotation.” She extended her arms. The hydraulic limbs reflected her movement. “There’s a piece of debris jamming the life pod into the tube. I can only see one of the retrieval cuffs on the pod. It’s twisted the wrong direction. Bring us more to port.”
“Roger. Correcting speed and rotation.” Scylla said. The stars outside spun in a dizzy arc, drawing Maryn’s gaze to them, and she blinked sweat out of her eyes. “How’s that?”
The other cuff was in view. “Good for now.” She reached for the near cuff and clamped hydraulic fingers around the handle. The other limb extended but she met unexpected resistance before she could use the claw to grab the metal rod jamming the tube. “The right arm is stuck.”
“You have to punch a little to unstick it,” Jac told her over the headset. “It’s got shoulder issues. Girl’s getting old, like us.”
“I beg your pardon,” Girl said, offended. “I’m younger than all of you. It’s not the age. It’s the shit you’ve put me through.”
Maryn carefully retracted her arm, swiveling, and extended her fist with more momentum. The joint popped and the robotic manipulator extended the rest of the way, the metal hand slamming against the lifeboat. “I probably just scared the hell out of whoever’s in there.” She wrapped the claw around the junk pinning the capsule into the tube and pulled back. The rod moved but refused to let go. “It’s not going to budge without a little force. It might just pull the wreck with us before it releases. How big of a problem is that?”
“Big,” Scylla admitted. “A huge section of the transport is drifting toward us faster than I hoped. We won’t be able to move out of the way fast enough lugging that behind us and I don’t want the Girl smashed between ‘em.”
“If we leave the life pod here, they’re going to be smashed instead of us,” Maryn snapped. “How long do we have?”
“About two minutes until we have to disengage.”
“Just like old times,” Maryn muttered. “All right. Give me a minute. Be prepared to move away as soon as it comes loose.”
She wrapped one hydraulic claw around the tow handle, the other on the obstructing debris and pulled. Both shifted in the tube and stuck again. “Come on, you bastard,” she grunted, throwing her weight against the hydraulics. The cylinder slid out another foot, not even halfway out of the launch tube.
Her thigh muscles burned with the effort as she leaned backward in the arm controls. She staggered when the cylinder suddenly slid free, and the hydraulic claw jerked the life pod forward too quickly, banging it on the ramp of the cargo bay.
“Damn it, I’m really rattling whoever is inside. I hope they’re strapped in.”
“Make it fast, Mar,” Scylla said. “That wreck’s getting too close.”
Maryn gritted her teeth and clamped the other claw on the opposite tow handle. She carefully drew the vessel into the bay and deposited it hatch side up on the deck, not as gently as she would have liked. “Got it. Go!”
Impulse engines fired, treating her to a fresh, terrifying sight of wheeling stars and drifting wreckage as the bulk of the shattered transport plowed into the remains of the smaller ship and drove it toward the Girl’s stern. “I said go, go, go!”
Author Bio:
E.M. (Elisabeth) Hamill writes adult science fiction and fantasy somewhere in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas. A nurse by day, wordsmith by night, she is happy to give her geeky imagination free rein and has sworn never to grow up and get boring.
Frequently under the influence of caffeinated beverages, she also writes as Elisabeth Hamill for young adult readers in fantasy with the award-winning Songmaker series.
She lives with her family, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse.
Visit her website at www.elisabethhamill.com and her blog at www.emhamill.wordpress.co
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