A Less Inspiring Annunciation
It wasn’t every day that a moon exploded. The various sentient beings of Verin Prime bustled out of their shops and houses to stare at the debris field littering the sky. Happily, the moon was small and dingy enough that hardly anyone lived on it. The government announced that there had been only one casualty, a missing person. The hologram reporter intoned her name solemnly: “Sarah May Raxenpaxerflirk, currently employed at the Lady Amber. Any information as to her whereabouts is appreciated.”
“Like heck,” Constance said, leaning against a tree. She and Sarah May had landed in a small forest in a lightly populated part of Verin Prime’s main continent. A nearby rest area had a functioning television screen. Constance had watched the news report with some interest.
“I didn’t think angels were supposed to say heck,” Sarah May ventured timidly, still shaking from the fright of the blast. It wasn’t every day that one’s tiny moon was destroyed.
“Eh, you get dispensations for using language at appropriate moments,” Constance replied. “Anyway, we’ll deal with that later. Right now, we’ve got an Orb to find.” Constance paused. She hadn’t been in the treasure-hunting business in years. She didn’t have a single clue as to the Orb’s location. All she had was a terrified squidling waitress. “What we need,” she mused, “is someone who’s already on the track. Someone who’s got Orb-hunting experience. And I know just the person. Right, then, let’s fly!”
“But…” Sarah May whispered, “I don’t want to find the Orb.” Constance never heard her.
***
Oswald Stamper had gone back to his shuttlecraft to review the data chip he had obtained from the Verin Prime library, hoping that the chip would contain the location of the mysterious Charlotte’s Moon. He also hoped that the said moon wasn’t the one that had just exploded. He had only just inserted the chip into an upload port on his shuttlecraft’s console when he heard a sudden bump behind him. He spun around in his chair. The shuttlecraft was empty. Mr. Stamper was not an otter to take fright at strange noises. Neither ghosties nor ghoulies nor long-legged beasties, nor even things that go bump in the night, ever troubled him. Still, though, he did slide a casual paw towards the blaster at his belt.
Suddenly the shuttlecraft cabin lit with a golden glow. Constance, the trembling Sarah May at her side, had just revealed herself. “Hi there!” Constance said, and then transitioned into traditional angelic formality. “Blessed are you among otters-“
Mr. Stamper, not being a terribly religious otter, reacted as anyone might to the sudden appearance of a glowing stranger in his shuttle: he swiftly drew his blaster and fired. The bolt scorched Constance’s left wing. “Ow!” she yelped angrily. “You can’t fire blasters at an angel! What’s wrong with you? Honestly, what the….” She paused, searching for an angel-appropriate expression that would express her feelings. “Oh, never mind. But seriously. Don’t do that.”
For previous stories in this arc, go here. Thanks for reading!
