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In Which a Frisbee Proves to be Very Useful

by on April 29, 2013

Last time, in the Catrina Chronicles, Catrina had happily given birth to twins in the comfortable environs of Shmirmingard Castle. In the process, however, she and her companion Thrud (the daughter of Thor) had inadvertently left her other associate Krystelle the rogue elf stranded in Evelyn Spaceport, where she had gotten into a dramatic standoff with Edmund, Catrina’s brother and Prince of Character Hell, not to mention Utgarda-Loki looming over them….

“Oy. Could this story get any more complicated?” Krystelle griped to no one in particular. “It’s gettin’ so you can’t tell the players without a program!”

“Tell me about it,” Edmund said. “I was mentioned all the way back in the first episode, and then entirely neglected. Blasted author forgot about me.”

“So naturally you decided to turn to evil and try to have your sister executed for murder?” Krystelle said, not because she was really interested in the villain’s backstory but because she hoped that he would launch into a monologue and get distracted. Unfortunately Edmund was a bit too clever for that.

His hand hadn’t wavered an instant, holding the plasma blaster at her head. “Look, let me just remind you of something. I am the Prince of all Character Hell, right? That means I have mastered all sorts of evil dark arts, including how to survive a stabbing. You, on the other hand, probably can’t survive this plasma explosion. So I think I have the advantage here, yes? Now…drop your sword.”

“Who do you think I am, Humperdinck?” Krystelle said defiantly. Inside, though, she had to admit that he had a point. There was only one thing to do. With one hand still holding Miranda, she tapped her communicator. “Hey, Speed, get me out of here, wouldja?”

All she got was static. Krystelle had no way of knowing that Kilkenny Speed had been offered a very generous sum if he would fly over to the planet Bizarg Prime to quietly sneak a few additional clauses into a multimillion-dollar contract that would allow his clients to do some very unethical things. Kilkenny prided himself on being a gentleman’s mercenary, as it were, and this was right up his proverbial alley. Far superior to little smuggling jobs at the back end of the galaxy. So he had duly flown away, leaving Krystelle stranded.

“Well…” she said, at a loss. “Smudge?”

But her dwarvish boyfriend shook his head somberly. It seemed he had neglected to bring any ancient dwarvish weapons along with him; wore, he was standing far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to reach Krystelle in time to do anything.

“Well, erm…” Krystelle said. “This is bad.”

“Oh, this is very bad, very bad indeed.” Edmund said, smiling viciously. “You have five seconds to surrender, starting now. Five.”

He probably would’ve counted down all the way to one, and Krystelle might have surrendered; of course, Edmund planned to shoot her anyway. He was only doing the countdown for dramatic effect. It was traditional villain procedure. Susan had departed from the classic villain code, always doing things like blasting the hero in his or her power-up sequence, but Edmund, now, Edmund was far more classy. “Four.”

A Frisbee abruptly flew out of nowhere and thwacked the plasma blaster from his hand. Edmund was badly startled. He had expected several things, but not a Frisbee. “What?”

Both he and Krystelle spun to see where the Frisbee had come from. There, standing in the shadows, was a sad-faced man in a cheap fedora. “Hey,” he said, as the Frisbee whirled back again and smacked into his palm. “Name’s Connecticut Smith. And I’m only going to say this once. Leave the elf alone.”

“I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Connecticut. Connecticut Smith. I’m a treasure-hunter, we’re supposed to be named after states, the good ones were taken, and Utah Smith sounds dorky. No offense to Utah. Now, please, leave the elf-”

But Edmund had a backup plasma blaster in his boot and he grabbed for it. Unfortunately for him, Krystelle had grabbed for it a half-second sooner. She whipped it out and fired it in one rapid motion, the force of the explosion blasting Edmund clear across the street. Utgarda-Loki rumbled in alarm, his huge bulk lurching forward, but Connecticut Smith was already going for his communicator. “I hate it when things get complicated,” he sighed. “Demi, beam us out of here, will you?”

“Sure thing, sir,” came a prim, slightly accented voice, and both he, Krystelle, and Smudge disappeared in streaks of light.

They materialized in the cargo hold of his ship. It wasn’t all tidy like Kilkenny Speed’s transport, but it wasn’t terribly grungy and falling-apart either. It was a plain, serviceable vessel with no frills or furbelows. The voice that had answered Connecticut’s call echoed from the ship’s PA system. “We’re breaking orbit over Evelyn Spaceport now. Course laid in. ETA, well, not sure precisely, but will have that for you soonest. Demi out.”

“That’s Demi La Monde,” Connecticut said. “My pilot and navigator. She’s human, I think; I’ve never actually seen her face-to-face. She’s a bit introverted, you see. We used to communicate entirely through text. She’s made great strides, really has, using the PA and all.”

“Gotcha,” Krystelle said. “So, where we going?”

“Oh, dear, I’ve got to explain,” Connecticut said sadly. “Thrud hired me to help get you people into the woodshed in Asgard where they’re keeping Mlrning, the Shovel of Thor. I don’t know where Thrud’s got to, but she said to pick you up in any event. So here I am. Also, I’m afraid Thrud neglected to pay in advance, so you owe me rather a lot. And I wouldn’t want to have to eject you out into space. So depressing.”

Krystelle sighed, and began rooting around in her pockets for money with which to pay the man. She was beginning to wonder where on earth Catrina was, and why couldn’t she come back into the story and be the heroine again. This stuff was getting old.

This has been another exciting episode of the Catrina Chronicles. For previous episodes, go here. To buy Catrina in Space, a novel based upon Catrina’s adventures, go here. Thanks for reading!


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  1. There’s a Facebook status going around that reminds me of you and, more specifically, the Penguins ๐Ÿ™‚ It reads as follows:

    PLEASE put this as your status if you know someone (or are related to someone) who has been eaten by penguins. Penguins are nearly unstoppable, and when hungry, also breathe fire. 71% of people won’t copy this into their status because they have already been eaten by penguins, 28% are hiding in their showers with fire extinguishers awaiting the coming penguinocalypse, another 3% can’t do math, and the remaining 1% are awesome and will re-post. Force with you my comrade, FORCE WITH YOU! ‘:D

  2. It cracks me up when your characters talk about the author. I hope Krystelle finds a way to pay her rescuer.

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