The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Odd Out


Too violent. Too harsh. Too unwilling to use violence until pressed. Willing to use too much violence after.

Reasons to throw her from one complement to another, one look at clawed hooks on her wingtips enough to teach anyone she’d been built at Canaf. Playing nice shouldn’t be her first reflex.

“A diplomatic envoy?” Maru asked, skeptical of her pilot.

“In a war complement,” Taseta said, tossing her braid and grinning. “A permanent post. We’ll serve as point.”

A war complement. They could use both her violence and her restraint.

“You really think it’ll last?”

Taseta shrugged. “At least try.”

A Little Chat


Captain Mikral was rather pleased at how easily they’d slipped past their enemy’s border defense and how many parsecs into enemy space they’d gone. The target was fast approaching.

He should have saved his pleasure.

He barely saw the flash of blue in the ship’s viewer before he saw the hooked blades unsheathing from the tips of its wings, before the entire crew felt them puncture the hull as their velocity ground to zero.

Mikral swore.

The communications panel lit, then a woman appeared on-screen and her warm voice came through the intercom. “Let’s have a little chat.” She grinned.