Savage Horizons (Lesbian Space Opera)

Chapter 1

I wake with a raging headache and my cheek plastered to the floor with spit. The ship's alarms are blaring, the ringing bouncing between the empty planes in my head. The contents of my shelves lie scattered across the floor. I choke as the fumes from my prized bottle of tequila float up from the damp carpet. The shards of which litter my desktop.

I stumble to my bed hoping what little I've eaten in the last twenty-four hours stays there. I plop down on the firm mattress and take a calming breath to assess the situation. The last thing I remember was watching Sarka leave with Ash.

And then nothing.

Just Ash, promising me she wouldn't do anything foolish. At the disarray around me, I have to assume she did. Goddamn her. For once I wish she'd think things through before jumping head first into every situation.

I run through all the facts. There was an explosion. Not aboard the Persephone. We wouldn't have survived an explosion that big. It must have happened on board the Posterus.

As soon as I stand, the ship lists. I collapse back onto the bed. Glass and debris careen off my desk. Out the window the stars move in a sickening arc across the view. We've lost control of the stabilizers.

Eight months and eleven days. The total sum of my captaincy. I've been in charge less than a year and I've already destroyed the ship. And this on the brink of embarking on the most prestigious mission of my career, hell, of any captain's career.

Eight months ago, I walked onto the bridge for the first time gripped with a strange mixture of fear and elation. There was no one else, only me, in charge of one hundred and eighteen individual lives. My choices were no longer for me. I needed to be selfless. A trait prized by every Belter but few achieve. There's a saying on Delta: feed the cows first. It's the farming capital for a reason. They're not too bright when it comes to articulation. It doesn't matter where you're from. The mines on Epsilon, the farms on Delta, the factories on Beta, or the government on Alpha. It's the same across the Belt. You don't come first.

There isn't a man, woman, or child who hasn't felt the sting of that lesson. Even on Alpha where they're taught to serve the people. Life isn't easy.

Where I grew up on Delta, things aren't so bad. If you like farming. At least there's work. On Beta, too many jobs are becoming automated, leaving workers no choice but to head to Epsilon. And on Delta the work takes years to kill you. Not like on Epsilon where working the mines has a life expectancy of months not decades.

And if you don't want to farm, mine or slog away in a factory, you can join Union fleet. The life expectancy isn't that much better than Epsilon. But who wouldn't trade in the mines for a ship? Most of the time we're hauling cargo from one asteroid to another. But when you compare it to working the mines or farms, it's freedom.

When I imagined finally docking at the Posterus this is not what my mind pictured. I had no idea I would show up in a burning wreck, reeking of failure and feeling like crap.

I march, with as much dignity as my wobbly legs will allow, to the bridge. I need to see what that bastard did to my ship. I need to find out if Ash is okay.

It's chaos.

As soon as the doors slide open, the acrid smell of burning solder and copper slaps me in the face. It's followed by a heat so scary, my pulse skips a couple times before kicking into high gear. We're on fire.

"Vasa!" I shout to my comms officer, who has his head stuffed behind a console. "What's our status?"

The ship lists again. Seven crew members in various positions of panic, grab for a bulkhead. I, on the other hand, flail about until my feet skid to a halt in the doorjamb.