Mechaneura

By Drew T. Connan

Tarn knows what she wants: a job with clear targets, measurable progress, and the chance to develop her skills. She just didn't expect to have to be transported to another world to find it.

Her new role is as a messenger, delivering packages and information between far flung settlements. She flies above the strange world on a mechaneura - part insect, part machine, part companion - crossing desert and archipelagoes, fenland and rocky coastlines.

There's lots for her to learn but one question she isn't sure how to answer: is this her home now, or will she be going back to the world she once knew?

Mechaneura is a cozy, low-stakes gamelit novella, based on finding personal satisfaction and a place in the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew T. Connan
• Release date: Sep 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223000433

Book preview

Mechaneura

Drew T. Connan

Copyright © 2023 by Drew T Connan

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by law.

Contents

1.Cadet

2.Messenger

3.Courier

4.Envoy

5.Deliverer

Publishing Derby

About the Author

Cadet

Tarn flew over a strange world, swooping over dunes and ridges, little clusters of stone houses built around firepits. She could feel the wind against her body, the fact that there was nothing except a suit and a helmet between her and the thinning atmosphere, that she was doing the impossible, just her and her mechaneura. The initial fear faded to delight at the beauty, at the freedom. Desert lands, browns and oranges, and across them rivers snaking together, trimmed with the greens and purples of vegetation.

She saddled her mechaneura tightly, the creature’s long, segmented body tight between her thighs, her arms keeping her balance. The fast beat of the mechaneura’s wings seemed effortless. Her helmet ensured she was getting sufficient oxygen, but other than she was on her own, in this impossible world, and she was flying.

A soft bleep sounded somewhere against her head. She was getting close; they would be starting the descent soon.

The arrow on her visor guided her in the right direction; she had a message to deliver.

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Earlier that week:

"Oh god, why is my job like this, Tarn vented helplessly, dropping her bag and her coat where she stood. They tell me one thing, I do it, and then they say it should have been something else. Not only does the left hand not know what the right hand’s doing, neither of them are even sure what a hand is."

Bess, her cousin - and flatmate, and best friend - put her book to one side. More of the same, or something else?

Bit of both. There's now this conference coming up, and everyone has all these great ideas but are they prepared to do any of the work involved? They are not. And it's like this over and over again, every single time.

Bess unfurled herself on the sofa, stretching out like a cat.

I can always ask dad if he can find you a job. I know he would - he's offered before. And don't make a face.

Tarn made a face.

Bess's father - Tarn's Uncle Perine - had been saying he owed her one for a long time. More than that. He'd been desperately wanting to repay her.

When she was seven, Tarn had dragged an unconscious Bess from a holiday park swimming pool and then whacked her on the chest until she coughed up gross, chlorine-smelling water. The attention had been nice at the time - and of course she was very glad Bess was still here - but there was a point at which she couldn't rely on having done one thing right twenty years ago. She needed to make things happen for herself.

I just want the sort of job that I'm trusted to get things done. Given clear goals, clear deliverables, people are straight up with me about how to succeed, how to get a promotion. Not all this vague shit and mind games. I like things to be clear.

Bess nodded with the sympathy of someone who'd heard this more times than she cared to and was feeling that sympathy quite drained even for someone she loved. She snapped to her feet.

That’s it, I'm calling him. He can make you an offer. You don't have to accept, you can keep being miserable if you like, but at least listen to what he has to say, okay?

Tarn nodded to signal defeat. My turn to cook, yeah. Risotto okay?

Risotto great. There still should be some of that stock I made in the freezer, you can just microwave it.

Tarn pondered what might be coming as she stirred the rice around the frying pan. Everything her uncle did seemed to be hidden behind layers of NDAs. She was pretty sure even Bess didn't know what the company did. There was something intriguing about taking a job with so little information, but she wanted to get there on her own merits. To prove herself. There were reasons Bess didn't work with her father either.

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The package arrived Saturday morning. A big, sturdy cardboard box, not too heavy, with stickers saying expediated delivery on it but no other courier slips or signs it had been though a delivery service. Tarn manoeuvred it into the house and placed it on an armchair. There was no sign of who the sender was, but she had a growing suspicion. She slit the tape neatly with scissors and reached down into the polystyrene pellets, her hand clasping around something round and smooth. She pulled it out, scattering the polystyrene over the floor.

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