Sunday Snippet: Hand of Fate

So far, September is off to a decent start. I finished up a few projects this week and look forward to getting back to the great office reorganization.

Kind of a slow week for television. I watched two episodes of Silent Witness. I don't think I've ever seen the first few seasons with Amanda Burton as Sam Ryan. I started watching somewhere in the later seasons.

I also did the usual Ovation mystery marathons. Rather enjoyed Midsomer Murders because they went all the way back to the beginning. Also left wondering why anyone considers The Librarians a mystery show, but I guess it's because they always have to track down the treasures for the library. Not really mysterious in my book, but it doesn't have to be.

I'm hoping to get back on track with finishing up the previous seasons of Roswell, New Mexico and Riverdale. Also need to watch the season finale of The Witcher and the series finale of Strike Back. I've been putting off Strike Back because I really don't want the show to end.

I need to catch up on Wynonna Earp also. I'll probably end up binge watching the whole season.

That's pretty much it for television. Tonight's post is from Hand of Fate, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Ada Kurtz and Clark Wellington are great at their jobs, and either could pull off an upcoming mission. But when Ada gets injured, she's relegated to the sidelines, planning the operation and calling the shots for Clark. He has to take out an enemy satellite which won't be easy without Ada flying his wing.

And a sneaky peek…

Ada Kurtz kicked the locker in front of her—hard—with her good leg. Why, why, why had she been so stupid? Wiping out on a wet floor?

Rookie mistake.

And she hadn't been a rook for a long time.

Damn Clark for using her as the example of what not to do again. Seemed to be his favorite little treat in the morning briefings. Didn't help he'd added the deal with the fitreps to his repertoire, making notations on her record. Okay, so she'd been a little too heavy on the pranks. Not her fault he made such an easy target. He had to cut her some slack, the intel coming in meant a big op would surely follow. They all let off steam when that happened.   

She should've paid attention to the warning pylons. But no, she'd been so damn pissed off Clark had put her on notice—in written form—she'd blundered right past them. The resulting crash tore several ligaments in her knee and that meant no flying.

Wet floors and anger did not go together. At all.

And a bum knee and the sure to be upcoming mission wouldn't mix either. Especially since she'd been grounded.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Her own stupid fault. If she'd back off and cut Clark some slack, he might not use her as a constant example.

But something about him drew her in. "I can't help myself." The guy rarely let loose and she'd made it her mission to bust through the wall of seriousness he surrounded himself with.

At least when he took her to task, he used humor and always laughed. "Someone with his looks should have more fun." She couldn't fault him for being on point.

He wore responsibility well. His broad shoulders evenly carried the weight. He flew with precision and made it look easy. Which commanded her respect.

So why did she always pick on Clark? "Because the guy makes me nuts … but, good god, there's something about him." Always lurking beneath the surface.

They'd dated for a while … a long time ago. It only lasted about a month. Nothing big. Several group gatherings. Dinner. A big race. They hadn't even made it to sleeping together. She'd been just out of flight school and wanted to keep her options open. She'd been very clear about that and he accepted it. He didn't want to start anything anyway. He shipped out two weeks later.

Now she wondered what if all the time. What if she'd suggested they spend the night together? What if she'd asked to see him on leave? What if they'd done more than send quick updates back and forth over the last two years? Would she be less inclined to seek his attention by misbehaving all the time? Who knew?

Growling in her throat, she figured it might help if she could act older than twelve most of the time.

"Lieutenant?"

Ada turned at the sound of her commander's voice. "Sir."

He glanced at her braced and wrapped knee. "We could use your help in planning and tactics. You up for it?" He very nicely didn't mention the reason behind her injury.

The back and forth between her and Clark could count as almost legendary. The commander had warned them that sooner or later something would give.

Turned out to be her knee.

She gave him a half-hearted nod. What the hell, at least she was good for something.

Grabbing her support cane, she jerked her head toward the hatch. "What're we waiting for? Let's go."

 

This one is very close to being complete. I need to finish up the working draft then get in there and refine everything. Looking forward to getting it ready to launch.

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

 

ML Skye