AudioThrust

This month's patron-funded story is "Dino Space Pirates" by Stu Chebooch, narrated by Nobilis Reed.

The ship hung derelict in space. Puffs of gas escaped intermittently from the hull. Its drive engine lay ripped open, inner parts exposed. The fuel had long since evaporated.

Inside the hull, two people were working. "Crap," said Marianne Vega. She pushed back from the machine she had been working on, holding out the soldering iron. "There's hardly any battery power left. This will keep life support going for another few hours. Maybe five, if we're lucky."

Peggy Terrid took the soldering iron and put it back on the work table. It clattered slowly in the low gravity. "How about a distress call, Captain Vega?"

"No good," she replied. "The hyperwave fried during our last call. If anyone had heard us, they'd be here by now. It was a war zone, after all, we're the last thing they'll be thinking about. We could send radio waves, but they won't be received for months. We'll be long dead. Us and our 25 passengers." She looked at the soldering iron. "We may as well turn off the rest of the gravity. Divert everything to life support."

As Peggy packed up the tool box, Marianne Vega placed a hand on her shoulder. "Dismissed, Lieutenant. I'll be on the Bridge. Do as you see fit."

"If it's all the same, I'll be there with you, Captain," Peggy replied.

Captain Vega made it to the bridge before the gravity cut out. She strapped herself into her Captain's chair. Eighteen adults and their children had put their trust in her to get them out of the war zone. "It should have worked, damn it," she muttered. "One lousy stray shot."

Peggy Terrid came onto the Bridge. "Gravity out in two minutes," she announced, then took a seat at the navigator's station. The gravity lessened, then went to free fall. The lights dimmed. Captain Vega drifted, then began to doze.

Minutes passed, and rolled into hours. Her head drifted to one side in the microgravity, weightless. Her eyes blinked, then squeezed open. A red light was blinking on the console.

"Peggy..." she started. But Peggy was already on it.

"Incoming signal, Captain," she said briskly. Her swiftly moving fingers activated the console.

Captain Vega straightened in her chair. "Full lights. Onscreen."

"Ahoy, the ship!" called a voice.

"Dinos..." Peggy said in a low whisper.

"Captain Skraark of the Free Wind," he announced. Reptilian skin covered a massive face. The nose protruded from a combined mouth and snout. His crest extended well above his head. The scale of the other ship was hard to discern from the viewscreen, but Dinos were usually over eight feet tall.

Captain Skraark waved a scaly hand. The claws on his fingers extended for several inches and looked very sharp. "What is your status?"

"See for yourself," Captain Vega replied.

"Yes. Yes, we have," he replied. "We actually came in for salvage, then noticed a faint signal of active life support. How many are you?"

"Twenty seven," she replied. "Two crew, the rest passenger. What do you seek?" she asked.

"We offer the usual deal," he replied.

"I've heard of your terms," she responded.

"Well then," he went on. "If you agree to the deal, then find your volunteer."

"I just want to be sure that my passengers will be safe."

"Captain!" he exclaimed. "We are...free traders...but we have our honor. None of our species has ever reneged on this deal."

"Screen off," Peggy announced. She swiveled her chair to face Captain Vega. "You can't be serious! I've heard Alliance soldiers talk about their...deal! Death here on the ship would be better."

"I might choose that for myself," said Captain Vega. "And accept your choice as well. But there are twenty five other people counting on me." She pulled her clothing to make herself as formal as possible. "Screen on."

Reluctantly, Peggy pressed the controls to reactivate the communication link.

"Captain Skraark, I accept your offer," announced Marianne Vega stiffly.

May's Patron-funded episode (yes, I know it's late) is "Kentaurida" by Mason Hawthorne, narrated by Nobilis Reed.

In the grey predawn the dense, ancient forest pressing right up to the edge of the road looms over George, as he picks his way along, careful not to turn an ankle in the deep ruts left by farmers carts and post wagons. He's heard that this forest is untouched since ancient times, the last virgin wild lands this side of the continent, powerfully haunted, according to the common folk, and a stronghold of the old gods.

It is cold, and the stars glitter in the sky, the husk of the setting moon is all the light George has to find the marker he was told of. It is an old thing, standing as tall as a man, the carved stone weathered by the centuries. The head on top is still well formed, and Hermes' sly, gleeful smile beams from atop its square pillar. As George approaches he can make out, at the appropriate height, a carved penis standing at a jaunty angle from a stylised bush of pubic hair. He stops in front of it, and reaches out to touch the stone penis for good luck.

Turning from the herm, he tightens the straps of his pack and fords his way into the forest. It is black under the cover of the trees, even the moon's feeble light lost, he strains to see the obstacles in his path, and more than once loses his footing on the slick leaf litter and uneven coils of roots. Soon, George is breathless with exertion, and sweating; his shirt clings to his skin. Clammy and chilled, he must pause for a moment to tug his collar away from his throat and adjust his pack.

It is so quiet, even the birds are silent; there's not a sound aside from his laboured breathing and the crunch of dried leaves under his boots. George fits his fist against his side to ease the ache in his ribs, and a prickle crawls up the nape of his neck. What is that sense of hushed watchfulness that surrounds him? Why does it feel as though his every move is being scrutinised? George shakes himself off like a dog—isn't it silly to believe all those folk superstitions—he squares his shoulders and carries on, labouring up the slope.

But then, he is here because he believes in the folk tales. Because they say that beyond the curses and malevolent spirits, there was the chance to gain a miraculous cure, or the power of divination, or a dozen other such boons. The cure is all he wants, some kind of treatment. If he has come all this way to find nothing, he thinks he may as well die.

Here is the annual event we hold at Balticon every year, plague or no plague. This year our madlibbers are Stephanie Burke, Valerie Griswold-Ford, Grig Larson and Charlie Brown.

This month's patron-funded story is "Arachne" by Emily L. Byrne, read by Jo Bennett.

This is the second (and final) half of "Sauce for the Gander" written by Nobilis Reed and narrated by Vivienne Ferrari.

Find my interview with Leela Sinha on the PowerPivot podcast

Listen to Monster Whisperer on Audible

This story was commissioned by a Patreon supporter who generously signed up at the $100 level. It's a story set in the Monster Whisperer universe, narrated by Vivienne Ferrari.

Happy 13th birthday! This podcast is now a teenager. This month's story is "Salt Water" by Alexander Whitman, narrated by Nobilis Reed.

Happy 13th birthday! This podcast is now a teenager. This month's story is "Salt Water" by Alexander Whitman, narrated by Nobilis Reed.

This month's patron-sponsored story is "Bell House Invitation" by M. Christian, narrated by Michael Robbins. This is an excerpt from "Hard Drive: The Best Sci Fi Erotica of M. Christian"

This month's patron-funded story is a straight erotic horror tale by Gustavo Bondoni.

The narrator is Nobilis Reed.

Patrons are now receiving episodes of a popular public domain planetary romance that has been "de-expurgated" by Nobilis Reed. Join up at patreon.com/nobilis to hear at least two chapters a month.