Soda Pop Miniatures sigue actualizando su Kickstarter y mientras se van acercando a la siguiente meta publican un relato pequeño sobre Malaya.
Malya held out a straight arm and pushed past her bothersome security. A harried looking man in his 60’s wearing the royal crest ushered along-side the storming princess, trying to keep up.“But your highness, not only does your father forbid you to race, but if I may say so, it’s unseemly for a high born of your stature to lower herself to...”
“Nobody asked you Gilles” snapped Malya, the clatter of her boots and the rustle of her voluminous gown trailed down the cold stone slabs of the palace hallway. The defeated looking armsman knew when he was dismissed, stopped his pursuit, turned on his heels and marched back to the antechamber of the regent’s palace.
Malya was seething, she brushed a golden lock from her forehead, her chest heaved with fury. The power of the door slamming, loosened a few frames and decorations from the posh interior of her room to clatter noisily to the floor. “Ugh… I want out of this prison” she shouted, and then, like a crumpled lace doily, she spun round and collapsed on her bed, face buried in a sea of pillows, sobbing.
The crumpled acceptance letter for competing in the Cerci quarter finals gripped tightly in her gloved hand, she had spent months tracking down the right submissions office, her custom Jettoskuzzi Sky Hawk, which she named "Sedaris", has been well maintained and race worthy for months, just begged to be ridden. It was truly the only place Malya ever felt completely free, wind whipping her hair, the hum of the pulse-gravatic engines pushing her through the sky. Every bank, every turn, pure thrill. She was not an unskilled amateur, no, Malya loved speed. She has already won a number of Ulixian circuit races under a false name.
To write off Princess Malya of Ulixis’ enthusiasm for the sport as a childish whim would be to greatly underestimate the magnetic draw she felt to the raceway. From under her pillows, slowly edging up to the prone Malya, Mr. Tomn, her companion, nosed up to the golden locks on her head and gave it a sympathetic sniffle. The enigmatic cypher appeared to her years before when her mother died… a relatively new phenomenon that has sprung up around known space, however rare, for people to have become attached to these seemingly magical creatures. The origins of cyphers still remains a mystery, but to their companions, very primal emotions for these creatures develop and they become deeply connected.
“You’re right Tomn-Tomn, he will understand when I bring back that trophy for all of Ulixis to see.” Malya’s voice muffled through the thick feather duvet. Mr.Tomn excitedly perked up an ear, and gave a warble of excitement, tugging the straps on his comically small knapsack, he eagerly waited for Malya as she dressed.
Kicking off the heavy gown, and exhaling with relief as she tugged her corset away, Malya shot to her wardrobe, throwing open the gilded doors and yanked out her racing gear. The sleek material clung to her body with an elastic snap as she fastened the last magnetic clasp. Giving herself a last look in the mirror, she flipped up her collar, pulled on her gloves, and grabbed her auto dye stick and pressed it to her temple…
“I think Tranquil Sea?” a twitch from Mr. Tomn’s whiskers was all the answer she got as she activated the finger sized device. An affirming chirp signaled the dramatic cosmetic change, as the roots of her hair began to blend out in a very flattering warm blue color, she always pulled the activator away just in time to let the color blend into her natural blonde at the tips… quite a fetching look. “What do you think?” Malya said, spinning around and giving Mr. Tomn a wink. His ears perked up in a happy expression. They were ready to go.
++Getting off of Ulixis is not hard for anyone with a little coin to toss around. Malya managed to book a seat on a tour yacht setting off for Cerci Prime. Loading her racer with the rest of her cargo, and Mr. Tomn unceremoniously stuffed into her expensive carry-on Krokalid skin bags, Malya found her lounge compartment before liftoff. She locked the cabin door, pulled a hooded cowl over her aqua colored locks, and drifted off to a restless sleep, grunting and shifting her body to compensate for the imagined G-forces of the race in her dreams. The yacht lifted on amber thrusters into the purple dusk of an Ulixian summer sky.
“Sir, the princess has left planet under alias about 10 minutes ago. Destination, Cerci Prime.”
Leopold Magnus, who was only described as “science officer”, and “In charge” to the reporting junior intel officer, tipped his helmeted head in acknowledgement, dismissing the officer. At near 7 foot tall, sealed in an armored suit, Leopold Magnus had a foreboding and commanding presence. A series of images and scripting flashing inside the reticles of his helmet, as micro-bursts of information were pushed out to chase teams in the Cerci sector to converge on Cerci Prime. Leopold turned on his armored hoof, gestured to the Black Diamond security team at the door to the small listening post.
“To the ship” Leopold rasped through his vocalizer.
And in a sweep of cloak and the smell of ozone, he was gone.
To be continued...