Another piece of my Space Pilot character. Was going for a cover art style, don't have a name for the hypothetical story either lol. But get it done instead of perfect. She started as an idea for a Starfinder Witchwarper. Plus the tImelaspe video.
WE HAVE HIT THE 30 PAGE MARK WOOHOO!!! :DD Chapter 3 is officially longer now than Ch 1 and 2 combined, and more is about to come! The plot does not really have any moments where I feel like a "to be continued" end mark would fit. Also, 1/3 of the comic is now ready!!
In the third page, Keshet's line "Mazal bueno" is Ladino (Judeo-Spanish language of Sephardic people) for "good luck"! :) equivalent to Mazel Tov in Hebrew. Except used as a good luck wish for upcoming events, while Mazel Tov is a congratulation. Keshet and Efraín are the only Jewish people in the room, so I wanted it to also feel like a special moment of connection!
ALSO THANK GOODNESS I AM FINALLY FINISHED WITH THE PAGES OF THE STAFF ROOM MEETING. As fun as it was to draw the schoolteachers goofing around and interact, I was getting tired with tinkering with the pale purple/pink gradients of the bg and trying to get the other colors to be in harmony with them XD
Elves vs. Aliens Part 3, The Search Begins: Chapter 5-Nick5256143
It took Beri’s people twenty-seven minutes to locate 54-year-old Nicholas Brazerman of 75 Dillon Court in Flagstaff, Arizona. Beri could tell from the glances they exchanged that his information dealers had decided he was mad, too. Why else would he be cyberstalking a conspiracy theorist? And why would he have dispatched his plane to bring this man to Faerie? Objectively, it did seem insane. The…
you can still have gender in a species that's monoecious, reproduces asexually, or even is just physically incapable of the normal means of reproduction, you people are just fucking obsessed with biological essentialism and the white supremacist ideal of gender.
My dear friend DistantMedium has been cooking up a story for a very long time, and I have been helping to write. The fact they invited me on to this project has me flattered. Are you ready? Come see the stars with us!
Tomorrow: https://astra-index.com/ 8pm EST/ 1amBST/ 8amAWST
Summary: Cassandra Rowland, PhD, finally has the chance to work on an experiment that really matters: growing Earth crops on another planet. But too many overdue reports and marked failures have put her in hot water with the board, and this is her last chance at redemption. So when she finds herself railroaded by a seven foot tall, glowing alien named Kri, it won’t be as easy as sticking some seeds in the soil and running them under the tap. Tack on the looming repossession of her lab contingent on her success in Kri’s reports, and Cassie realizes she may have her work cut out for her.
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No new tags for this chapter, except for Stephen being, well, himself.
You can also read it on A03!
Cassie
I applied for every job I could possibly qualify for and a handful I don't, but hey, you miss every shot you don't take. I'm picking up Universal really well, according to Kri. It's much easier than when I tried to pick up Korean, except these tones will be the death of me. Kri is quick enough that he catches my mistakes and interprets what I meant to say, but I don't think I can hold a true conversation with a local just yet. It makes me recall something I read years ago about people who spoke tonal languages, like Mandarin or Vietnamese, who had an easier time picking it up compared to us uncivilized Americans.
I've been Kri's shadow as much as he'll let me during this time. The thought of returning to my empty apartment makes me want to throw up, so I've been putting it off as long as possible. Still, I feel it beckoning to me, to stay longer than it takes to water my plants and then sink into the couch to never get up again.
It's been nice with Kri, though. He's pampering me-- cooking for me, feeding me, watching awful movies with me with a few glasses of wine. His rules sometimes strike me as odd-- no shoes in the living room but only the living room, don't open the window if you leave the room, and a handful of small quirks that would be annoying out of context, but it's Kri, and I think he's starting to show me more sides of himself than before, and that makes me glad.
I've noticed he likes to cook for me. Sometimes he only cooks for me, but makes sure to sit with me while I eat, one hand propping up his chin like whatever I say is the most interesting thing on the planet. It's definitely not, but I like the attention.
This morning Kri is moving slower than usual. His hands are distracted and he's not telling me the steps like he usually does. Something must be on his mind. I fold my hands in front of me on the table and blink politely at him. "Any plans today?"
Kri sighs, and I can tell what the answer is already. "I've been reassigned, unfortunately-- another audit."
"Aw," I pout. "What's the assignment?"
"It's in the Biology department. Their spending reports haven't been matching their invoices by a wide margin, so I'm there to...count money, I suppose." He shudders.
I lean forward, already craving the details. "I didn't think anyone had the balls to skim official funding."
"Apparently, it is quite common," he says. "I've read a few reports on past incidents, and they follow the same general pattern of reporting overspending, then taking the extra. These people, however, have just been taking it all. I'm interested in why they needed the money in the first place. Doesn't your NASA pay for your needs here?"
"They pay for our healthcare, food, and the initial trip out here, but we still have to pay for apartments, utilities, any 'luxury' purchases. Plus, humans can get greedy. United space-front notwithstanding, the drive to make as much money as possible is hard to shake."
"It is expensive?"
I nod. "Very. If I keep digging into my savings, I could live here for another three months, maximum."
Kri looks away, and props his chin in his hand. "If you lived outside of the Outpost, you would be paying for much less."
I roll my eyes. Every time I've brought up work, it leads to this conversation. "You gonna find me a job? Because I'm looking and applying."
He shakes his head and then turns back to the kitchen. He pulls out some distinctly Earth-like ingredients like bread, sugar, and a carton of eggs. Not Earth eggs, I realize as he opens the carton-- these are the same size, but green with curvy lines of texture around them that make them look like round leaves. He cracks two into a bowl and the yolks are bright red, which makes for an interesting color when he dips the bread in it.
"You're making French Toast," I say with a smile.
"Indeed, I am," he replies, dipping another piece of bread. "I found a recipe in the Archive, and we have a similar meal in Lethien."
"Neat!" I prop my chin in my hand and watch him. Once he done and serving me, he's dusted the toast with sugar and cinnamon, and I don't even want to know how much both of those cost. We could've started growing it here ourselves if someone hadn't mucked up her experiment.
I expect the taste of the eggs to be different. Similar to chicken eggs certainly wasn't on the list, but if I had my eyes closed, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference. The toast tastes just like my favorite diner on Third and Gangly, and I gobble up half of it before Kri even sits down. He tries to give me a piece off his plate, but I wave him off. "This is more than enough."
Kri likes to cook, I've gathered. He also seems to like eating, even if he only does so once a day. He did say ento are fond of snacks, and it brings to mind what I'd have in elementary school-- sticks of cheese, a bag of chips, maybe a sliced up apple. The thought of Kri trying to open a string cheese wrapper makes me smile, and Kri looks at me with glittering eyes. "What?"
I shrug and look away, playing coy. "Nothin'. You're a good cook."
He sits up a little straighter as he dips a piece of toast in the glaze of sugar and cinnamon. "Thank you, I got it from my parents." He pops the bite into his mouth, and watches me as he chews.
I wait until he swallows to ask, "When do you have to leave?"
"In a little bit," he says sadly. "I do not want to, as you say, kick you out, but I know you won't stay here without me."
I smile. He's been observant since the start, but having it directed at me is another thing entirely. It's fun to watch him name all the cargo ships that fly outside the window, but not so fun when he pauses during sex to ask, "Where do you think you'd like to work in the future?"
He's more invested in my job search than I am. It throws me off, him asking questions I'm not prepared to answer. But he expects an answer, and I have no choice but to blabber my way through the truth. He's gotten more than a few confessions out of me this way, things I probably would have talked circles around before it finally broke free.
After we clean up, Kri sees me out of the building. I give him as many kisses as I can, then he flies off towards the Biology sector. I imagine myself as a housewife, waving her husband goodbye before a long day, which is not a path I would've guessed for myself. It wouldn't be too bad, although I'd have to get out every few days, being in any enclosed space for days on end would drive me nuts.
It's nice enough stay outside; Fall is starting to kick in, some shops are putting up Halloween decorations, and even here on Summanus the leaves are starting to turn colors. Even after three years, the similarities to Earth never fail to surprise me; two completely separate planets with different evolutionary chains having similar things like eggs, or bread, or leaves that change color with the seasons.
I take the initiative and go on a stupid walk for my stupid mental health. I've been slacking on the mandatory exercise, and there's at least ten emails in my inbox from NASA urging me to move around, so I might as well spend some time outside. The emails are really on top of it. I wish I could say the same.
The career Development building sits at the west edge of the Outpost, between a series of older administration buildings and some empty lots being primed for construction. At eight stories, it's the tallest building on this side, the second tallest in the Outpost right after the NASA's rocket assembly facility, but it's the center for employment, the only building where a human like me can get hired. It's poured concrete walls have been painted a vibrant green, and the front door is a fancy revolving one. It looks a sight better than many of the buildings around it, but the Archive Expansion project is being constructed just down the street, so there's a coat of dust on a lot of...everything.
The online job board is one of two ways to get a job at the Outpost, the other being a visit to the career center. It's not a requirement to visit, but I get extra points (a mark on my resume) that states I made at least one visit. It shows I'm serious about my job search, as if that was a question at all.
Directly inside is a large reception area, with large, cushy couches on either side, and a half-circle help desk directly in front. Behind the desk stands the AI assistant, and god I wish it was a person, instead. I frown as I approach.
The assistant looks like one of the old-school AI robot dogs standing on it's hind legs, with a spherical camera propped on top for a head. It perks up when I approach, so it must be constantly recording. Creepy. "Hello, welcome to the Career Center. What is your identification number?"
"CR-4647."
"Thank you. Searching...Are you Cassandra Rowland, PhD?"
"Yes."
"One moment, please."
I heave a sigh and rest my weight on the desk. It's just me in the lobby, but I see movement in the cubicles behind the glass. I'm glad it's a slow day, I'm not sure how I could handle people in the lobby, staring at me, judging me. At least the AI won't judge, I don't think it knows how yet.
I pick at my nails, wondering if there's a salon opening up anytime soon. I'd like to change my hair up, I feel like it's time to shift things around. I used to like getting braids in college, but I haven't seen a single bottle of coconut oil in years. The maintenance was easy on Earth, but here? Probably not. I've been pulling my hair back and out of my face anyway, so I suppose could go shorter, I haven't tried that yet. Would Kri like me with short hair? I think I'd look cute.
I reach for a phone that isn't in my pocket. Right, something else I need to get.
I spy a computer behind the desk, a real computer, and a chair like an actual person used to sit here. I hope they were reassigned instead of fired. After a quick look around to confirm I'm the only one here, I sneak behind the desk and sit in the chair. The computer has power, and when I jiggle the mouse the desktop turns on, plus there's no password and it's connected to the internal network-- perfect! The account is a Guest, but I only need the shopping application. It's not true internet, more a snapshot of what was taken back when the Outpost was being built. It's dated by about ten years, but it's functional, and I can find the correct model of cellphone without wading through a sea of ads.
The fanciest one is so far out of my budget that I don't bother clicking on it. The same goes for the next one, and the one after that. There's movement in front of the desk, someone coming in, but I only look up when a male voice says, "Cass?" A shock of red hair at the corner of my vision and I press my lips together. "You find a new job?"
Well, fuck. "Hello, Stephen."
I look up from the computer, and I see he's not alone. Next to him is a woman with beautifully tan skin, long bleached blonde hair and big brown eyes. She appears South American, maybe Brazilian, and she looks at me curiously. I give her a polite nod that she returns with a smile.
"Cass, this is Luiza. Luiza, Cass. Are you...working at the Career Center now?"
I feel caught out, using the computer to shop, and I feel the need to explain myself. But I'm not buying anything, or even logging onto my account, also it's none of his business. Stephen is looking at me like a cat that caught a mouse. "No, I'm here looking for work."
"Are you...trying for more botany?"
"Yes."
"Is that really what you want to be applying for?" He looks to Luiza, who only shrugs before he continues to stare at me.
A muscle in my jaw clenches. "I'm not sure what other work I would do, Stephen."
"Have you looked into entry-level positions? Those are less stress," he says. "You know, Lab Assistant, Front Desk, Receptionist, that sort of thing. It's more in your wheelhouse than these big projects."
I hold back a sigh. "So what brings you two here?"
"I'm just trying to help, excuse me. We're here to meet Luiza's, uh, sister for...lunch. You probably haven't heard of this place, it's called Abeer Lindeer?"
Just then, the AI assistant dings, and the bot straightens up once more. "Search complete, please see printout of possible matches."
I rush around the desk, but Stephen grabs the paper before I can reach. He flattens out the sheet and dances away from me when I try to grab it again. "Let's see here..."
"Stephen, respectfully, shove off." I reach again, and he moves again, and Luiza is starting to look uncomfortable. I look to her for a split second, hoping she'll see and help, but she just continues to look at me with that bland concern on her face.
"I just want to see what it recommends," he says. Luiza is standing too close for me to lunge at him (like I want to do), so I steel my resolve for whatever the hell he's going to say next.
"Ooh, these are no good, Cass. You can't be a Lead Researcher anymore, even Lab Assistant is kind of iffy."
I glance to Luiza again, but I don't want to throw her in the middle of this. So I reach out again while Stephen is distracted, and snatch the paper from his hands. "Don't you have a lunch or something?"
He blinks at me, mouth slightly open, the rolls his eyes and looks to Luiza. "Go get her, honey." He rests a hand on her arm, and Luiza throws me a last look of concern before walking away and turning down a hallway to the back.
"I'm just trying to help," Stephen says the moment Luiza is out of earshot. He has the balls to sound hurt, and even folds his arms across his chest.
I've had just about enough of this, I can't take anymore. He's been cutting me down, making me feel small since day one, and I'm sick of it. No more. "Stephen, let me make this perfectly clear: You are not my friend. We are not buddies. You are my ex-boyfriend, who treated me like crap, who has nearly cost me my job, twice. And anyone else would have the decency to leave me in peace, but for whatever reason, you keep coming around to remind me of everything in my life that sucks. Leave. Me. Alone."
"No, you're misremembering. There were good times too--"
"There were no 'good times'! You toted me around like a dog you could fuck until you got bored of me, then left by stealing my ticket! Get out of my life, and stay out."
For once, in all the years I've known him, Stephen is at a loss for words. First he's hurt, then it quickly transforms into anger. If Kri were here, he'd back me up, but physical violence gets a one-way ticket back to Earth, and Stephen knows better than the test the Outpost's judicial system.
Luiza returns at that moment with a white woman in tow. She's got curly brown hair piled onto her head in a bun, and bright red lipstick. They must sense the tension in the air because they both slow to a stop a few steps away from both of us.
Luiza looks at me first, then at Stephen. "Is everything...okay?"
"Fine," Stephen snaps, grabbing for her hand. "We were just leaving. Good luck, Cass, for whatever it's worth."
I keep my eyes trained on Stephen as they walk out the door, Luiza throwing me one last concerned glance over her shoulder. I wave her off, not unkindly as none of this was her fault, but I still would rather never see her again.
I circle the desk and slump back into the chair, letting my pent up energy out with a massive exhale through my mouth. My heartbeat thunders in my ears, my hands are trembling, but there's an unmistakable feeling of triumph in my chest. The remnants of our time, clogging me up like sludge, have finally washed clean. It's...different, this feeling. It's almost like he died, I never have to see or talk to him again if I don't want to, he holds no power over me. My lips tick up in a smile, one just for me, and I clamp my hands in front of my mouth. I did it. I did it! Jillie would be so proud of me.
Paper in hand, I walk out of the career building and into the sunlight. Emotionally and physically, I think I could fly. There's a skip to my step, a lightness to my feet that guides me forward. Going to the Career Center and telling off Stephen? Today is a good day.
Once my eyes adjust to the light, I look at the printout. Stephen wasn't lying when he read a few of them off-- I see Lead Researcher, Lab Assistant, a few retail openings that I skim over. Then, at the bottom, something catches my eye. Field Researcher.
