The Long Black (The Black Chronicles Book 1) by Anjewierden J. M

Author:Anjewierden, J. M. [Anjewierden, J. M.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Pirates, coming of age, science fiction, adventure, Mechanic, Action, Freighter
Publisher: CJMA Press
Published: 2017-04-17T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

One of the most difficult lessons of adulthood is learning the difference between relying on others and living like a parasite, and leaning on others for mutual benefit. Like so many things there isn’t a fine line dividing them, but a nebula of uncertainty.

- Second Minister Jaron, Nerrul System

MORGAN WAS GETTING REALLY TIRED of waking up in strange places.

The pale purple paint on the walls was the same shade she’d seen at Gertrude’s, so she was probably there, but this was a room she hadn’t seen before.

She was lying on a very large bed, too soft for her tastes but comfortable nonetheless.

Gertrude’s room, perhaps? There was something that looked like a desk along one wall, full of drawers and a large mirror. There were pictures tucked into the border of the mirror, from her somewhat distant vantage on the bed many of them looked to be pictures of Haruhi, so it was likely.

On the desk there was a holodisplay with the time displayed. Six in the morning on the fifth. Well, at least the fourth was over, splendid day that it had been.

Pulling back the covers, Morgan noted she was still in the comical combination of hospital gown and the long coat the car man had lent her. Her arm was a tad itchy under the cast, but it would still be a few days before she could take that off. That was assuming whatever they used here wasn’t more effective than the Quicknit she’d used in the past.

There were two doors on the wall past the foot of the bed. The left one was closed, but Morgan could see a bathroom through the open door to the right, reminding her of some pressing needs. As she hopped off the bed – feeling much steadier on her feet than she had before – she noticed a small pile of clothes on a fabric-padded chest pushed back against the wall between the two doors.

These weren’t just any clothes either, but her clothes, her somewhat faded yellow dress on top. They’d been to her apartment? How had. . . oh, of course, Boris had retrieved her identification. That was all they’d need to get in, since Gertrude knew where it was. Morgan wasn’t quite sure if she found it touching or an invasion of her privacy, but after a moment decided she wasn’t going to worry about it, grabbing the dress and underwear from the pile. There was something else on the pile, causing her to pause before she headed into the bathroom.

It was a somewhat battered uplink unit, noticeably more rugged and durable than the ones commonly seen around Isa. Underneath was something even more unusual, a handwritten note.

“Not to be presumptuous,” – Morgan wasn’t sure what that word meant, but she continued reading – “but I noted you do not own an uplink. This is one of my old units from my active military days, one I only kept because it was less of a hassle to keep than to dispose of it.

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