Sunday Snippet: Outcasts

March 25, 2018

Geez, I'll be really glad when the back and forth weather is over and done. Snow days in March, man, haven't really seen those since the 80s. At least not that I can remember. The year after I graduated, we had a big storm in March and I almost didn't make it back for spring break. Planes weren't flying out of Atlanta to go north. Fun times.

This week, I played catch up with some of my television shows. Got Legends of Tomorrow up to date. Looking forward to Constantine being added as a regular. At least I hope he gets added. He's so much fun. And I really like Wally as a team member.

Gotta say I'm kind of "meh" with this season of The Flash. I've grown to really like Ralph but I'm rather bored by the uber-smart Devoe and the constant body swaps. Here's hoping next season has better flow.

I'm not sure I'll be able to catch up on Gotham. Gotta find the first episode when it returned at the beginning of March. I hate it when on demand and the station websites remove the episodes before I have time to get caught up. Grrr.

I'm caught one of my missed episodes of Riverdale. I'm still a little on the fence about the whole mafia-style intrigue. Hiram buying the paper? Yeah, seriously, not down with that plot point. I'd rather watch Kevin and Josie deal with their parents and Cheryl deal with hers. Also, Chic. Ugh. I have no clue what to even think about that storyline. I want to love it, but I don't. I did love the Jughead rundown about how tangled their relationships are with their friendships. Too true, my man, too true.

I'm down to one episode left on Murdoch Mysteries. I'm a little heartbroken for William and Julia and I'm almost afraid to watch the next episode.

I took a week off from Jessica Jones. I'll be trying to catch more episodes this week.

Chicago Fire has some great crossover episodes. I'm excited about finishing up season five, but then I'll have to wait for season six—see not being available on demand or website. Bleh.

That's it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Outcasts, a novella that started out a short fanfiction and spun into an original story.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Frannie Boyd and Thorn O'Reilly are stuck in a bad situation with no way out. But when the people they love are threatened, they'll play hardball to protect what's theirs, even if they have to go up against an admiral to do it.

And a sneaky peek…

Frannie Boyd tried to do her bit and make the pilots of the Gaspra welcome. Fifteen minutes into the tour and she wanted to crack all their heads together. She'd worked with obnoxious people before, hell, she had a rep herself, but holy shit, the group of pilots from the other ship could write a manual on asshole behavior.

If one more person boasted about how many enemy raiders they'd taken out or bragged about coming out here to save the backwater crew of her ship, she'd maim someone. And it wouldn't be pretty. Babysitting detail didn't sit well with her anyway.

But the commander asked and she wouldn't say no to him. She took the pilots down to the hangar bay and regretted it the moment they hit the deck.

Barney Japps, the top gun for the Gaspra searched the plane from nose to end. "Where are your kills marked?" He turned to his crew members who fell in with the same question.

Frannie rolled her eyes. "The Deimos doesn't post kill shots on the planes." With so much more to flying than how many raiders a pilot took down, why would they?

Besides, who wanted to become a target? She definitely didn't.

Barney snorted. "How do you tell who the top gun is?" He wore a look of smug superiority, no doubt thinking his title would never be challenged.

Frannie shrugged. "We vote. Plain and simple." Every month unless they had a big campaign.

Which they hadn't had lately… because stealth mission.

Barney sneered. "Yeah, it's simple all right." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Who's your top gun?" If he got any cockier, he'd crow like a damned rooster.

Frannie sighed. "I am." This conversation would end badly, but she might as well play it out to the end.

The smugness returned. "Right. A popularity contest for whoever kisses the most ass…" He nudged the pilot next to him. "Or maybe it's whoever sucks the most dick." He made a slurping sound with his tongue against his lips.

Yep, definitely gonna end badly. Her fuse lit, Frannie drew back her arm to punch the fucker in the face when the Gaspra CAG, Jones Millfort, cleared his throat.

He pushed his way between them. "I wouldn't, Captain. It won't look good on your already banged up record." He held her gaze, all but daring her to proceed.

Frannie lowered her arm. "Can I help you, sir?" Maybe show you the way off my hangar deck?

Millfort nodded. "You can, yes. I'm looking for Captain O'Reilly. I've got a problem with these fitreps." He showed Frannie the stack of reports.

She glanced at the date on the top. "I did the ones you've got an issue with. What seems to be the trouble?" She could pretty much guess, but why not make him spell it out?

Millfort pressed his lips together. "That's exactly the problem. The CAG is responsible. Your fingerprints shouldn't be all over these reports." His mouth twisted into a grimace.

Frannie's lips curved in a sweet smile. "And the deputy CAG can do them if delegated. Which they were." Thorn pulled double duty as a command officer.

Millfort frowned. "Well, they shouldn't have been. They're sloppy and incomplete." He slapped the files against his palm.

Frannie blew out a long breath. "We know our pilots, know what they can and can't do. You haven't been out here. You've got no idea what we've had to deal with." Her voice took on a hard edge. "For all we knew, we'd be out here until time ended and—" Millfort grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the Gaspra pilots.

He made a harsh shushing sound. "The Gaspra crew isn't privy to the nature of Deimos's mission." He bit the words out in terse bursts.

Frannie's eyes went wide. "Why the hell not? Why aren't they in the know?" Unbelievable… and downright stupid.

The Gaspra CAG lowered his voice. "Naught's orders." His tone indicated he didn't appreciate leaving his pilots out of the loop.

With damned good reason. Their arrogance and asshole mentality would keep Millfort on high alert.

He reined his temper in. "I don't like it, but you'll find I'm a true blue, follow orders kind of solider."

Frannie shook her head. "All righty then." She walked back and forth. "You're gonna have a bigger issue than sloppy reports because keeping this under wraps won't be easy. As I said, we've been out here a long time." She shrugged. "I don't get it. Anyone out here is in the need to know camp." Her gaze pinned the CAG. "But it's not my problem because my pay scale doesn't come close to Admiral Naught's." Only…

The funny thing about that? Frannie had been doing the job of someone several grades higher. Hell, they all had. And now Naught came blazing in and the Deimos crew were all supposed to dumb it back down? Frannie had a feeling that would blow up in the admiral's face. But far be it for her to try and convince the tight ass Millfort of that glaring fact.

No longer in her job description. She'd happily go back to being a deputy CAG and regular pilot.

Frannie jerked her head toward the corridor. "You'll find Major O'Reilly in the office… signing off on my fit reps." She gave Millfort a mocking salute and stalked back to her wayward group. "Tour's over boys and girls. You all need to head back to the ranch." The chorus of moans and groans had her amending the statement. "Your CAG's orders. Take it up with him."

She turned on her heel and exited the hangar deck, leaving the Gaspra CAG to deal with his whiny pilots.

I like the dynamic Frannie has with Millfort. It's antagonistic right now but she might just find an ally in him later in the story.

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flipside.

ML Skye