Fan fiction? ugh
In the interest of getting a blog post out, here’s a few paragraphs I wrote but couldn’t be bothered finishing. Fan fiction is just so … ugh. It’s about Skyrates if you hadn’t figured that out.
Begart was 21, and a boarman. He had been born on a skyland named Leng, and chose the only career path available to children born on Leng: he became a pilot. Geography pretty much ensured that anyone not color-blind could earn a decent living employed by a wealthy merchant as a pilot, trader, and general run-about.
Even in a fast plane, it could take 2 or more hours to fly between skylands. Contrary to the romantic ideas of flying the skies on someone else’s dime, most of it was boring. When it wasn’t boring, it was briefly dangerous, then boring again. Pirates cruised the atmosphere between skylands, waiting for cargo planes with bellies full of cargo, to tear open, pillage, and disappear with into the vast sky.
The pirates who patrolled the skylands had learned quickly. It had been years since they’d destroyed a ship: a craft that limps away can be repaired, restocked, and plundered again.
Begart had worked for this owner - who he only knew as “Boss” - for 3 years, and this was the third plane in his care. This “Cyclops” could store FOUR dozen crates, and a massive fuel tank allowing even more boring hours behind the stick.