Website: www.sarahnoffke.com
LOOPING
by Ell Leigh Clarke
Just another day in space, en route to visit a wizard of space and time. As one does when one is saving the world from the Big Bad.
Or at least as Bentley and the crew of the Chesed have to.
Nothing could be more normal... at least for this unlikely band of ex-gods in a world where they are little more than amortal vagabonds.
It doesn't take long before life on the ship takes a turn for the bizarre and Bentley finds herself thrust into a life and death conundrum she needs to resolve in order to save her oblivious team from total annihilation.
Her only ally? The person she can least rely on...
Looping (this story) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
This story Copyright © 2019 Ell Leigh Clarke
Edited by Robert Brooks
ProsperityQM LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
ProsperityQM LLC
1500 South Lamar Blvd, 1050
Austin, TX 78704
First US edition, 2019
Version 1.01.01
The Sword-Mage Chronicles (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2018-2019 by Ell Leigh Clarke
Chapter One
Bentley was used to the occasional unpleasant wake-up call aboard the Chesed. Sometimes Shango would rouse the crew at odd hours to handle some form of emergency. Or at least, what qualified for an emergency to Shango. Sometimes Loco would get drunk and stumble into the wrong room and make a big scene before being escorted back to his. And sometimes it was just her alarm going off, exactly when it was supposed to be but much sooner than she would have liked.
The slap in the face that awoke her this morning was a new one. She clutched her smarting face with her hand as she rolled off the bed, getting to her feet and spinning to face whatever threat had assaulted her in her sleep.
Her lover, Svend, slept peacefully on the bed, his body a few inches to the right of where he had been lying when she had fallen asleep and his hand on the spot where her head had been resting. It seemed he had tossed in his sleep and unknowingly smacked her. Bentley had known there was going to be a lot to get used to sharing a bed together, but this was ridiculous.
Svend was handsome, in a gentle, kind of soft sort of way. His blond hair which he normally kept neatly styled to the side was now matted with bedhead, the light stubble on his chin that he thought made him seem more manly still had not grown to more than a speckling. The white undershirt he slept in conformed to sleek muscle, not bulky like most of the other soldiers Bentley had ever met but more of a runner's physique. Nothing about a first glance at him would give even the slightest indication that he was actually an android.
That was sort of the point. Svend was part of the newest generation of androids, designed to look and behave as indistinguishable as possible from humans. Apparently, part of that was tossing in his sleep. As Bentley rubbed at her aching head she wished that they had left that part out.
She got up on the bed and gave him a light kick with the edge of her foot, flipping him to his back. He moaned and rolled over, intent on going back to sleep. “Oh, no you don't.” She prodded him with her foot some more, pushing him gently towards the edge of the bed until he slid right off it. There was a crash followed by a scrambling sound as the covers followed him.
Svend slowly rose from the floor, grumbling and rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes. “What was that for? You know, if you wanted to wake me there are gentler ways to go about it.”
Bentley gathered the covers from the ground and pulled them back onto the bed with her. “You mean like the 'gentle' way you woke me?”
Pushing some of his matted hair out of his face, Svend looked at Bentley with confusion. “What? What'd I do?”
“You hit me. I mean, you didn't mean to, but your hand struck me right here.” She brought her face closer to his so he could see what was surely a growing red mark around her nose and forehead. Her face got close to his, and for a moment it lingered there, her eyes locked onto his, both of them frozen in time. She broke away, embarrassed, and pulled herself back into her blankets.
All these weeks together, she thought, and I'm still not used to being with him.
Bentley and Svend's relationship was still fairly new, and neither of them seemed to have too much of an idea of what they were doing. Their time together was often spent either in awkward silence or cycling through the same two or three topics over and over as they tried to strike up a real conversation. Somehow, the latter was worse.
Svend tried to inch his way back on the bed and was stopped when Bentley pushed her legs out to block him. “Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – you know, I wouldn't even intentionally – I'm not used to sleeping next to anyone, I think.”
Bentley gave him a stern look. “Well, me neither. But I don't go smacking you in your sleep.”
Svend gave up on getting back on the bed and instead rested his back against the wall. “No, but you did just kick me off the bed.”
“You deserved it.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Did I?”
“Probably.” She sighed and threw the covers off of her. It was about time to be getting up anyway. “I don't know. Seems like the kind of thing you shouldn't have to practice, doesn't it? People have managed to share beds for millennia without beating each other up. Why can't we get it right?”
Svend looked thoughtful, tapping his finger to his chin as if in deep contemplation. “Maybe it is because we are required to have so many other skills for the things we've been through, we had to give up something…somewhere. You know, you had to learn how to befriend gods and … whatever the hell Legba is, and learn how to use that sword and save everyone from certain destruction, and I … well, I'm sure I learned something along the way. You can only be the master of so many things, so maybe we gave up something most people find simple.”
Bentley got out of the bed and made her way over to the closet which contained her simple wardrobe. “So you're saying to have the skills to do our jobs, we have to be terrible at sharing a bed?”
Svend shrugged. “Pretty much.”
She pulled out a fairly plain black outfit and tossed it on the bed. “Is that also why we're so bad at talking to each other?”
Though Bentley had said it lightly and meant it as a joke, Svend looked notably uncomfortable with the statement. “No that's – I think we're just still getting to know each other, that's all. Maybe when things are less crazy we'll have better luck.”
Bentley began to undress and noticed that Svend, despite having seen her body numerous times already, averted his eyes as if he suddenly found the wall very fascinating. “Less crazy than what? It's not like there's much going on right now.”
Svend's focus on the wall did not waver. “Well, maybe not at this second, but think about it. We just got out of a battle for the survival of my kind, where you wielded a weapon we still don't fully understand, and now we're on our way to pick up some space-wizard who lives like a hermit on a rock in the middle of nowhere 'cause he might have all the answers. We haven't exactly had 'normal' time together.”
She finished pulling the black crop top on, only after which did Svend finish his study on the wall. “I don't know if 'normal' is in our near future. That's the nature of the work we've found ourselves in.”
Bentley walked over to the room's single mirror and g
ave herself a quick look over. She wasn't one for a great deal of makeup, particularly not when she was out in space hundreds of light-years away from the nearest bit of civilization. Still she liked to at least check that there wasn't anything weird on her face for Loco to mock her about. The face that looked back at her was one that she was still getting used to, a consequence of the loss of her memories, but it was an attractive enough one, she thought. Perhaps a bit on the rough side, she knew when she scowled she could look absolutely fierce, but when she smiled the right way she could almost pull off the sweet and innocent look. She pulled her dirty blonde hair back into its usual ponytail, pushed her remaining bangs out of her face and tucked them behind her ears.
In the reflection behind her, Svend was looking more and more distraught. He could be an emotional one, even more so than any of the humans Bentley could remember meeting. Perhaps she ought to be more sympathetic towards him. He was, after all, going through a lot, having left his people to follow her on this crazy mission and pursue this relationship. But sympathy was in short supply given everything Bentley herself had been through. It was tough to always be the stoic one, the shoulder to cry on, when she could use some support herself.
She sighed, turned to him and tried to find something to say. “Maybe we could…” No conclusion to that sentence came to her.
Svend attempted to compensate, “Do you think we should…” He also came up short.
“I mean, if we have time, maybe we could…”
“Or later, when we're not busy…”
They were saved by their awkward exchange of non-committal plans by a knock on the door. Jelly Bean's voice called to them from the other side, “If you both are awake, Shango has requested the crew gather on the bridge A-S-A-P. That means, 'as soon as possible.' If you are not awake, please awake now.”
Bentley was relieved by the distraction, though she also felt guilty for being so relieved. “We're awake, Jelly. Tell Shango we will be right there.”
Svend made eye contact with Bentley, then awkwardly looked away as he made for the door. “Guess I should go back to my own room to get ready. See you on the bridge?”
“Yeah. We'll continue this conversation later. And Svend?”
He paused at the door looking back at her.
Bentley gave the most reassuring smile she could muster. “We'll figure it out.”
That seemed to be enough for him, and he smiled at her before leaving to prepare for the day. Bentley just wished that she felt half as confident as she sounded.
+++
The rest of the small crew of the Chesed was already gathered when Bentley arrived on the bridge. Shango, Loco, and Olofi, the three Iwa, stood together near the captain's chair. The trio were something close to fallen gods, cast out from their home and forced to live among the rest of the mortals, though Bentley had rarely seen anything godlike from them, perhaps besides Loco's inhuman alcohol tolerance. Sitting in a chair near the navigation console was the ship's new engineer, Jade, the only other human on the ship besides Bentley. Svend had somehow beaten her here, possibly because of the detour to the kitchens she took to grab a coffee, and was sitting by the viewport. And standing as always, at the ready to assist in any way she could, was the android operator, Jelly Bean.
Shango had on his stern, commanding face this morning, meaning this meeting had been called as part of his official powers as captain of the Chesed. That meant he was probably about to give an order that the other Iwa, particularly Loco, were going to have a problem with and he needed all the authority he could muster. With his rugged face and salt-and-pepper hair that made him seem like a wizened military veteran Shango had an air of command that few could question. “Good, Bentley is here. Now we can get started.”
Loco cut in using his typical flagrant disregard for authority, “I assume this meeting is to discuss what has become of all the good booze on the ship? A real crime, whatever happened to it. Look at the cheap swill I've been reduced to.” To accentuate his point he took a deep sip from the silver mug in his hands, frowning to show his displeasure even as he gulped down the contents.
Olofi shook his head at his companion's behavior. “That's no mystery: you drank it all. And isn't it too early for you to be drinking again?”
Loco grinned and sloshed his cup in front of Olofi's face to mock him. “Maybe early for you, Mr. Vanilla, but for me this is mighty late. And no, I didn't drink it all, there should be about a week's worth left of the good stuff. I know how to ration, you know?”
Shango cleared his throat to regain control of the conversation. “I have hidden your special stash, Loco. I will return it to you, but first we have some work to do.”
“You what?!?!” Of the three Iwa, Loco was the largest in terms of pure bulk. He had a bruiser's body, all mass and no definition. Usually his face was plastered with a sardonic smile that suited his sloppy dress and messy crop of black hair, but when he got mad and imposed his bulk against you, he could be quite intimidating.
Not to Shango, though, who was plenty familiar with Loco's nonsense. He didn't even flinch. “I said I hid your special stash. The one you keep under the pantry that you think no one knows about? You'll get it back when we're done.”
Loco grumbled but didn't say anything aloud, opting instead to take another slug from his cup.
Bentley took a seat at the table near the Iwa, wishing Shango would get to the point. It was too early for this. “So what is it you want us to do? Systems checks?”
Shango tapped on a panel on his forearm and everyone's corteX was suddenly updated with a list of chores to be done around the ship. “It's cleaning day.” There were the predictable groans and protests from the rest of the crew but Shango seemed to have already firmly made up his mind. “Look, I understand everyone needed some time to unwind after the last battle. I did, too. But we've really let the ship go to hell in the meantime. There's garbage everywhere, the kitchen is filthy, and I'm pretty sure something’s rotting in the fridge. That would explain the smell. It's one thing to need a break, but my ship is not a flying trashcan.”
Loco snickered. “Well, your ship does carry trash, and it flies, and what's a can anyway but a metal vessel for carrying stuff? So I'd say, technically, it is a flying trashcan. Wouldn't be if you just let us eject our trash into space like I've been suggesting for a long time, instead of waiting till we hit a designated disposal station.”
Shango did not look up as he tapped on each item in the list of chores to assign to a crew member. “You know that's against regulations.”
Loco raised his cup again and frowned when he found it empty. “What do you think is going to happen? Are the space police going to ticket us for littering?”
“With our luck?” Olofi asked. “I'm actually glad we're going to be cleaning up a bit. We've all just been kind of moping around since the battle. It'll be good to actually do something, and I bet we'll all feel better when the ship is nice and clean, too.”
The captain tapped his display once more. “I'm glad you feel that way, Olofi, cause I have a very special job that requires your attention: the bathrooms.”
Olofi had perfect tan skin, free from even the smallest of blemishes, that meshed with the rest of his way-too-pretty-for-a-guy features to create a profile not unlike you would find on the cover of a romance novel. Bentley found it amusing to watch him go from tan to white at the mere thought of having to clean the bathrooms. “Oh, come on, I'm sure there's plenty to be done around the ship."
“There is,” Shango agreed. “Which is why I'm so glad I can count on you for this. I can count on you, can't I?”
Olofi had been caught in a trap from which he couldn't escape. “Yeah … yeah, I guess you can…”
Shango placed Olofi's name next to 'Clean the bathrooms' on the chore list, thus sealing his fate.
Loco put a hand on Olofi's shoulder. “It's a noble thing you do, old friend. I'll think of you every time I take a piss from this day forward.”
Wit
h another press of the display, Shango added Loco's name to the list. “You're on garbage collection, Loco. A lot of it is the empty bottles you've been leaving around, anyway. Start here, around the bridge, and work your way down.”
Loco suddenly didn't find things quite as amusing anymore. “Wait a second, isn't collecting the trash Jelly Bean's job?”
The face that appeared in the large rectangular monitor that Jelly Bean had for a head displayed a sad expression. “I collect all trash left in the appropriate trash receptacles twice a day. I do not collect garbage left sitting out. This prevents a misunderstanding in which I throw away something still in use because I mistake it as trash. It all looks quite the same to me. At what percentage of remaining volume is a bottle of alcohol considered to cross the threshold from beverage to garbage?”
Loco looked dejectedly into the bottom of his empty cup. “I'm too sober for this.”
“You just finished drinking!” Olofi declared.
“Yeah … the cheap stuff.”
Shango finally turned his attention on Bentley. “Bentley, you're on kitchen duty by process of elimination. See if you can find the source of that smell while you're at it. It's really unpleasant.”
Bentley sighed, wiping down kitchen counters and hunting for a mystery smell was not exactly how she wanted to spend her day. There wasn't much point in fighting it, though. On the plus side, maybe the time alone would help her figure out what to do about Svend. “Fine.”
Jade was still sitting at the navigation console, seemingly protected from these duties by an imperceptible bubble. “Sorry, guys. I'd love to help you clean up, but I do have system checks to do. Good luck, though.” She didn't sound really sorry.
Svend was left standing alone, confused, as the rest of the crew started to split apart to their various duties. He approached Shango. “What should I do?”
Shango cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “You're a guest on this ship, Svend. I wouldn't require you to do any of the cleaning duties.”
Galaxia Page 47