Primrose Rescue

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“Let her have her head! Stop fighting her,” Rams raged at the big woman as she struggled with the wheel. He lifted himself to one elbow on the low bunk.

“What the hell do you think I’m doing,” Louella shot back. “You try steering this damn overgrown tub with one arm and see how easy it is!” She lifted her sling to emphasize her words.

“Let me get over there. .. Rams said weakly as he tried to push himself up and failed. He flopped back onto the pallet that Pascal, Louella’s navigator, had rigged for him.

“Don’t bother trying to get up. You’d fall right on your ugly face even if you ever did manage to get your ass in gear,” Louella said nastily. “With that smashed leg you probably couldn’t make it to the pilot’s seat, even if you weren’t so doped up. Now, be quiet and let me concentrate; I’ve gotten ships home in worse weather than this. Trust me: I know what I’m doing!”

The Primrose was a huge whale of a vessel, its crew quarters were nestled deep within a bulbous pressure hull. Beneath it hung a kilometer-long diamond fibre keel and on her upper deck were the enormously strong sails that harnessed the howling winds of Jupiter. Lashed securely to her side was a smaller ship, Thorn; a barque that, until recently, had been JBI’s sole entry into the Great Jupiter Race. It was this tow that made handling of Primrose so difficult.

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