The Steemiverse: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Reader Ship Flying Wardrobe. Its mission: to seek quality content in the Stream of Steem. To curate unknown writers. To boldly upvote posts no man has upvoted before!
I hand my cup of water to Jay. “Hold my drink. I got this.” As I step up to the console, I crack my knuckles and roll my shoulders. The Steem can guide me through this, but I need to be completely relaxed.
The leather chair creaks as I sit down. Behind me, Liam snickers.
“That was the chair, Lou.” I sigh and allow my hand to float above the command console.
“Hrooooommmmfffflllll gggrrwwwuuuuooooooo.”
“We’re not all filled with noxious gasses. It’s a creaky chair alright?”
A lichen-green message flashes on the screen. Get on with it, already.
I nod. “Yes, Bex. Ma’am.” I squeeze my eyes shut, concentrate on our destination, and start typing in random commands and swiping across the screen. The Steem will guide my hands.
The ship banks hard to the left and takes off to a space station floating in the distance. Beeping sounds fill the bridge and Bex flashes another message across the screens in the bridge.
We’re being hailed by that space station. Playing message now.
A distorted voice buzzes through the comm speakers in a rather nasal tone. “Attention unidentified vessel. Please approach and prepare your cargo briefs. The Space Scale is almost ready to process your cargo.”
“Tiny.” Bex’s voice doesn’t sound mad, but the fact that she’s speaking says differently. As quiet as she sounds, she must be very, very mad. “I asked you to take us to a sale. Not a scale.”
“But…” I smile uneasily. “It’s only a one letter difference. That’s not bad, you know.”
“TINY!”
“Yes, Bex?”
“Fix this. Right now. Or you’re confined to quarters. With your gassy hairball. And a big supply of brains.”
Seven and Zombie look up from their consoles, speaking in unison. “Hey! Those are our brains!”
Jay pulls his tablet out of the inside pocket of his long leather coat once more. “Bex, darling, let me soothe you with a sonne—”
“Not now, Jay.” Bex sounds like she’d have smoke coming out of her ears. If she had ears. Jay wisely puts away his tablet and stylus and sits down.
Meanwhile, the Vay-gun’s head has started to grow feathers and his nose is getting decidedly beaky. Wow. I’ve never seen one morph before. Within minutes, he looks like one of those Egyptian gods I remember from Earth. The one with the man’s body and the bird’s head? What’s he called again? Hairiss? Horass? No. Horus. That’s the one.
He’s walked up to the port window and stares outside. His head wobbles back and forth, just like a bird does. Suddenly, he opens his beak and screeches three times. He shakes his head, gulps a few times, and then he starts talking. “I’m so sorry. I morphed my head into an eagle’s. They have great eyes, you know. But I forgot to keep my vocal cords.”
He turns back to the window, pointing outside. “There’s a sign right over there, saying Big Sale.”
“What?” He’s just making that up. There’s no sign. I join him at the window. “I don’t see a sign.”
“Who's the one with the eagle eyes in here? Huh? It’s right there. I’m telling you.” He looks at me with those beady birdy eyes and I look away. Reminds me too much of my mother.
The screens flash again. Geb. Are you sure?
He nods. “Yes, Bex.”
Brace yourselves. I’m going to bank right and go full speed ahead. We’ve already wasted too much time. Dr. Muxx will Steem our hides if we don’t make it to that sale. Seven, divert all VP to aft engines.
To be continued
For more Steem Wars adventures from the crew of the RS Flying Wardrobe, tune into the blogs of 
Hugs
Tiny
Posted from my blog with SteemPress : http://www.jasminearch.com/index.php/2018/06/14/steem-wars-the-voyages-of-the-rs-flying-wardrobe-episode-nine-close-enough/
If you would like to read some of my work, feel free to have a look around on my off-Steem blog page by clicking the banner. My library there contains all of the pieces I’ve written since starting my blockchain adventure.
About the INKubator
As a writer, finding the right community–the right tribe–makes all the difference.
For me, that’s the INKubator. I’m one of the admins there, and I have to say I’ve never been more proud of something I helped build, than I am of the INKubator.
We help each other improve, lovingly drown each other’s drafts in red ink, and help each other brainstorm.
But we’re more than a writing club. We’re a family. We root for each other as we submit pieces for various publication venues.
We cheer and join in victory dances when a piece is accepted.
We support each other through the disappointment of the inevitable rejections.
We hang out, playing as hard as we work, and from the madness of our conversations, more stories are born.
As a community, we span the globe, with members from Asia, Australia, Europe and the US, so chances are there will be someone there if you should decide to drop in.
If we’re quiet, that’s because we’re writing.
If you love writing, we'd love to meet you!
