The Pigeon: Rare Journeys: The Pigeon, #1

By Quasar Lowen-Greene

The Pigeon is an old Mercator-class mail delivery transport ship, now turned shabby but well-loved home for its six crew members (and the cat!). Together, they face troubles, make mistakes, learn, grow, bicker, make more mistakes, and usually even save the day. Everything you'd expect from six misfits (and their cat!) aboard a spaceship.

 

Need something transported from one station to another? Looking for something that's hard to find and you're not sure what channels to ask through? Just need a lift? Call us on the holo today! When you need something you're willing to pay for, think Pigeon! (Ask for Weir!)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cold & Cove Publishing
• Release date: Dec 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781738718917

Quasar Lowen-Greene

Quasar Lowen-Greene is a fabulous being who delights in the simple pleasures; a strong cup of coffee, a walk in the summer rain, and an army of cats to do their nefarious bidding. Not that there is anything nefarious going on, so no need to peek out between the curtains. They live in Northern Ontario, Canada, and luckily, enjoy snow and trees. And rest assured, they are definitely not several adorable possums in a trench coat, continuously typing on a keyboard until the resulting nonsense arranges itself into stories about a crew of ragtag space travellers.

Book preview

To my friend Greb, with whom all things are possible (so jot that down).

The Intern's Been Kidnapped!

Or, The Commodore's Account

Setting the Pigeon down in one of the landing docks on the Braithwaite Space Station is tricky. Not because there's a trick to it, but because the Pigeon usually flies like a sack of hammers. Today is no exception; there's a sharp crack and the sound of crumpling metal.

Captain, please, 'Ruth' cries out. I'm supposed to be off-duty while we're here; I'm not spending my time replacing all the panelling and whatever else you just broke off.

‘All' the panelling,' Sonia, the Captain, pilot, and owner of the ugly sack in question, scoffs. "It was maybe one piece. Not ‘all' of it. ‘Sides, the Braithewaite has narrow walls. It's not my fault."

The walls are average width apart at the worst, but no one is willing to correct her.

Glorified gas station though it is, Braithwaite is the oldest continually operating station in the sector and it tends to attract a bit of a rougher crowd than say, Majorca Station or one of the newer Union stations. Last time the whole crew left the Pigeon at once on Braithwaite, they'd come back to find that their canned meat rations were gone, plus someone had removed all the light bulbs from the main corridor. So they had drawn straws on who would stay behind and guard the ship.

The Intern draws the shortest straw and despite his protests and mutterings about 'a fix,' everyone else is happy with the outcome and says their goodbyes quickly.

Bye, Gem, behave and don't let anyone onboard, even if they have candy. Or especially if they have candy! That's how they getcha, Sonia warns as she links arms with her First Mate, Weir. In a flurry, everyone disperses, leaving a lonely quiet to descend over the Pigeon.

Geminorum, named after his mother's favourite star, does a surveillance loop of the ship, but nothing is out of place. No meat-hungry bandits are trying to board, or those insidious, stinking stardust crabs like that time on Hati.

Little does he know, in about an hour's time, he'll be wishing for meat bandits, stardust crabs, or a good old fashioned killer asteroid impact.

He heads to the common room — which on the Pigeon is the mess — helps himself to a Rainbow Rocket soda, and kicks up his feet on the most comfortable, most worn chair on the ship.

There's a whirr and a soft clunk. Gem double checks to make sure that everything he owns or is attached to his body is out of harm's way as the cleaning robot trundles by. That thing has sharp edges.

It beeps as it passes, a three note trill. Gem reaches out carefully to give it a pat. Yeah, it's a non-sentient machine, but... it's nice to have friends.

Son of a bitch, he says, withdrawing his hand and sucking on his cut finger. You devious bastard.

There's no mechanical laughter, no burgeoning sentience desperate to strike back at the ones who programmed it for such menial labour. It's just a regular, out of the box cleaning bot that happens to be serrated.

By the time he finishes his soda, his eyes are getting heavy. Gem's been awake for many consecutive hours, mostly because there was a great rugby game that he couldn't bear to miss the ending of last night. There isn't anything good on the wave radio now and he's extremely bored. Plus, the mess is warm and familiar.

Soon, Gem's sleeping like a wee baby angel.

The crew arrives back at the Pigeon on time, about three hours after they'd left.

Head count, Sonia calls out. It's part of the routine since the time they'd left Weir on Salinalka-4 and forgotten about them for two cycles before Dr. Elsyc noticed no one had fallen down one of the ladders or burned themselves on the toaster oven in a while.

A chorus of answers go up around the ship, with one exception.

Gem, where are you? Sonia shouts. No answer. Gem? Weir, check his bunk. Six, the landing bay, make sure he didn't nip out for a smoke.

Gem doesn't smoke, Number Six, aka: Dory, points out.

Well, maybe he wanted fresh air.

Fresh air? Inside the Braithwaithe where the air's just twenty-nine thousand recycled farts in a tin?

Dory! Just go check! Sonia hates yelling, but she hates the blossoming feeling of panic in her chest more. Gem is a lot of things but he isn't the type to disobey direct orders.

Not in his room, Sonia.

He's not in the engine room, says Ruth.

Number Six comes back inside. No one is out there. I think he's gone.

So, do we wait for him here? Number Six asks after a moment or two where everyone just looks slightly baffled. Or should we get out there and find him?

We're going to do both, Sonia sighs. Doc, ‘Ruth,' you two stay here and radio me if he comes back. Weir, Six, we're going to each take two floors of the station and then we come right back.

There's a flurry of movement and activity while they prep the radios and divide the decks.

Captain? I've got nothing, no trace of him, Weir says over the communicator.

Me neither.

Nothing here yet, says Dr. Elsyc from the Pigeon.

Okay, let's reconvene at the ship. We're going to need a plan, Sonia says.

She's lost crew before, but hardly ever by misplacing them. Gem's a sensible enough kid that he wouldn't run off without leaving a note, which makes worry gurgle in her gut. Could something have happened to him?

The answer waits for her back at the ship.

Gem's been kidnapped, Dr. Elsyc says, catching Sonia by the elbow the moment she boards.

Sonia's eyes go wide at the thought, but she forces herself to be calm. Doc, we can't jump to the worst possible conclusion.

The worst possible conclusion would involve his severed limbs at the very least, Captain, Dr. Elsyc says. And I'm not jumping anywhere. I was about to ding you, but ‘Ruth' pointed out you might not take it well...

She holds up a loose holodisk and clicks play on the recorded message.

A holographic Gem pops out of the surface of