I, Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, am a soldier model, with built-in weapons and a nasty attitude!
Unfortunately, I can’t prove it, as I’ve never actually caught and killed anything. Mr. V., aka Edward Hoornaert, has no mice in his house, and I’m not allowed outside to hunt birds even though Southern Arizona hosts the largest number of bird species outside of the Amazon basin. It’s not fair!
You’ll see the significance of ‘soldier model’ in this snippet from Escapee, which will be published early next year. Catt, the civilian pilot of a supply airship, has just landed at Castle Mountain fortress, destroyed by an enemy attack. Here she talks with Lancelot, her android co-pilot.
Whenever fear and hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her, Catt responded by keeping busy, and now she concentrated on guiding Escapee to its softest landing ever. That wasn’t easy, because the wind had resumed its usual howl, a ruined crawler blocked the center of the landing pad, and the northwest quadrant of the pad was blasted to rubbish.
When the ship was down, she scanned all radio frequencies, but static reigned instead of the usual greetings. At least no one ordered her, in nasal, almost incomprehensible Proximanian Basic, to come out with her hands up.
After Catt donned her bio-suit, she handed Lance the only weapons she could find: a carving knife and a heavy propane cylinder to use as a club. “If anyone other than me comes aboard, kill them.”
“Kill?” Lance dropped the ersatz weapons, which clattered to the hollow metal deck plates. “Killing is counter to manufacturer’s parameters, Catt — I am not a soldier model.”
Catt should’ve had me with her. I’d take care of all the #^@% enemy invaders with one claw tied behind my tail! Grr hiss!
For more great snippets, check out the other posts for today’s Eight Sentence Sunday.