The goal of this group of stories is to explore writing cozy sci-fi/space fantasy adventures both smutty and not (at present). While the stories are both in progress, at present, "The Paladin Chronicles" is more romance, with no smut (at present), and "A Valiant Triquetra" is smut with plot. They are closely related (taking place on a shared timeline), and I'm still trying to decide if/how to combine them or how interdependent to make them (in terms of reading). For now, I'm putting them in the same series on here in the recommended reading order.
These stories are not hard sci-fi (more like Star Wars than The Expanse), so please adjust expectations accordingly. They have action-adventure levels peril and violence, but I'm not intending to have graphic depictions of violence or anything super dark. As I am writing the story I want to read, I intend for it to have a happy ending, but there may be moments of real conflict and peril.
This is all very much a work in progress (so it may be a little rough around the edges and may see undergo some changes) and something I'm writing for my own enjoyment in my own time (so it likely won't update rapidly). I'm using the Ironsword: Starforged solo-roleplaying game created by Shawn Tomkin to help craft the story, writing prose as I play, and (eventually) going back to edit things into something more resembling a story. If there is any interest, I could envision posting the "raw" material that includes the game moves, rolls, etc.
I'm happy to receive constructive, well-meaning feedback. With all that out of the way, let's set the stage:
* * *
Prologue:
Aeons ago, the ancient precursor race known as the Pakarans ruled much of our galaxy, leaving behind inscrutable monuments, enigmatic ruins, and the omnipresent nanomachines we call the Winds of Pakara. It was the discovery of the Winds that launched our ancestors to the stars. It was a golden age of expansion and scientific progress, but not without conflict. Rival powers and nations carved out domains among the stars and carried forward their old vendettas.
Two centuries ago, without warning, a ravenous swarm of insectoid creatures emerged from the galactic core. Composed of a terrifying variety of specialized bioforms and guided by a single implacable will, the Vraxnid swarm began to quickly overrun settled space, leaving only lifeless, barren worlds in its wake.
In the midst of this Cataclysm, the Winds led us to the deep-space locations of the Praxium Gates. Constructed from the strange, black metal favored by the Pakarans, these massive devices powered artificial wormholes which allowed our people to escape to a small satellite galaxy orbiting below our own.
This satellite galaxy—The Pakaran Maelstrom—was the birthplace of the Pakarans and the heart of their ancient empire. With the Praxium Gates now dormant, we are safe from the Vraxnids, but the Maelstrom is not without its own dangers. Strange and chaotic energies suffuse the Maelstrom, warping reality and giving rise to the Stormspawn—twisted horrifying creatures distinct from, but no less deadly or horrific than Vraxnid that drove us from our home
There are also the dangers we brought with us. Though many nations fell or combined in the Exodus, five powers dominate the Zenith, the densely settled space at the top edge of the Maelstrom. Within the tight region of faster-than-light communication enabled by the Pakaran Weave Hubs, the Zenith powers are locked in an eternal struggle for territory and supremacy. Equipped by talented weaponsmiths and shipwrights with deadly, high-tech tools of destruction, they wield mighty fleets and armies of battle-hardened troops against each other in constant skirmishes and—occasionally—all-out war.
Beyond the Zenith lie the Outlands, a wide sparsely settled frontier full of opportunity and danger in equal measure. There, among the untold vastness of space, the stories of countless lives unfold, all watched over by the ancient Winds of Pakara.
204.7.5.0301 - Meridian Station
The Vigilant blinked back into existence as it dropped out of drift space.
That wasn't my best transition
, I thought as I dabbed a scrape on my temple. The battered, but sleek, craft shuddered slightly as the e-drives cycled down and the fusion engines fired up. Through the cockpit window, I could see the familiar shape of Meridian Station silhouetted against the vast swirling clouds of the gas giant, Autorim. It was normally pretty busy around Meridian as mining vessels came and went about their business harvesting gas from the planet below, but today, however, everyone was leaving.
"Meridian Control, this is Paladin and the
Vigilant
. You all still open for business?" I sent out on a tight beam to the station.
There was a longer wait than usual before the dispatcher's response came back. "Paladin! You came at just the right time! The boss wants to see you right away. Docking Bay 17." After a pause, she continued, "You should bring a respirator with you, just in case."
"Docking Bay 17, with a respirator," I acknowledged.
* * *
"Someone bombed your environmentals?! Who's
that
stupid?" The Menders and their neutrality were respected throughout settled space. To attack a Mender or one of their Conclaves, much less a whole station under their control, would have nearly every civilized group gunning for the perpetrators.
While I digested the news, Tahira Saleem—Mender-Colonel of the ancient and highly respected Covenant of Azure Menders, Commander of Meridian Station—had her tongue between her teeth in concentration and her feet up on her desk, using her knees to hold her cybernetic arm straight while she reached through its elegant, flowing frame with a pair of delicate forceps.
She nodded and answered without looking up, "While they have neither claimed nor denied responsibility, the Scarlet Blades have been after Meridian Station for a while; they want the plasma forges. And at least till now, everyone else has had bigger problems than to hunt them down."
