This is the story of the Mimosa, a black sailing ship (with red sails) that travels through space, and boldly appears where no space-faring, black sailing ship has appeared before, regardless of the colour of its sails.
"Budak lap lop nignap sok yep?" (So what are you going to do with all that black wood you have recently purchased from the man whose only claim to fame is that he rips everyone off?) The nine foot tall, broad-chested man turned to the somewhat less broad-chested but half a foot taller specimen of his race next to him, who proudly inspected the load of wooden beams that had just been delivered to his yard.
"Bibip wop lop daap. Gim sallo wadda yem." (You know I have this plan to build a ship, and finally I have the proper wood to build a sturdy and good one.)
"Wop lop daap sok flap? Skippip!" (You seriously plan to build a ship from black wood? You'll have a black ship! You must be out of your freaking mind!)
"Gip quop wop lop nigh trek tod wem!" (I know!)
The two discussed the taller man's plan a bit more as they walked around the considerable amount of wood. The smaller one, Jarm, declared his friend insane. "You'll be the laughing stock of the fleet, you know that. No one wants a black ship. Do you have any common sense left, Kray? You can hardly see a black ship when it's in space! Space is black too!"
Kray shrugged. "The wood is good and it was cheap. I can add a bunch of lights to make it clearly visible."
"Still I think you consider this too lightly, my kikowapolorofan." (Friend.) Jarm shook his head, his wild manes jumping around while the metal beads in them clanged together. "But I have promised to help you with this thing and so I shall." He held out one of his hands. Kray took and shook it.
"Thank you, Jarm. I am convinced this ship will be a big success and bring us a good price once it is built."
"Let's first focus on that thing. The building. Do you have a design for the ship already?"
As the two men walked off, Kray started talking about the plans he already had at his house...
***
It was nearly dark when a big Dragooner class heavy-cargo pick-up ship floated into view of anyone that was still at the wood-yard. This meant that no one saw it, which was exactly the intention of the people on the Dragooner. Several men dropped down lines and used those to slide to the ground. Once there they gestured up to their shipmates who looked down through their trinoculars (binoculars for species with three eyes) to get the Dragooner in position. The men on the ground and those on board the pick-up ship were very experienced, so within an hour the entire load of black wood was lifted up, stowed inside the enormous ship and the ground crew was hoisted up again as they held on to the lines that they had descended on.
The ship's captain was satisfied. "Well done, lads. Nice work, and quick too. There's rain coming and wet wood is far heavier."
The women that were part of the group of lads ignored the lack of mention of their gender. They had gotten used to it. For some weird reason it was, they knew, difficult for people not of their race to tell the difference between their women and their men. The ground crew was dismissed as the captain barked his orders to the navigator and the helmsman, to take the Dragooner out of the area. "After all, we don't know when these people come back, and this compound is equipped with nasty cannons and other things to bring down ships even bigger than this one."
Stately and without being hindered by anything the ship of the wood-thieves sailed away, seen only by creatures who could not care less about what happened there. Ships like those usually meant bad news for anyone a bit too nosey.
The captain rubbed several of his hands, pleased that this assignment had gone so well. He'd seen many a job that had gone wrong because of bad information from the people that employed him and his ship. This one would make a nice profit as he intended to make the robbery sound a lot more difficult than it had been. A few of the crew had already prepared video-reels with heavy fighting and cannon fire as proof. During a stop somewhere over deserted land, a bunch of crewmen would paint the actual damage onto the hull, so the customer could verify that the ship had indeed taken fire. The ship would not land and was quite dirty so images like that looked convincing quite quickly.
The journey to where the black wood had to be delivered went fast, the paint job was done equally fast (experience made this very easy), and the captain was soon on the ground, haggling with his customer about the wood and the allegedly sustained damage, squeezing as many credits from the man as he could without becoming physical. After the credits had been transferred and approved by several official banking committees (which took a while, never to the pleasure of the captain), the wood was unloaded in the place where the new owner of the cargo intended to build a ship from it.
Soon the captain was aboard the Dragooner, and the impressive pirates' vessel was on its way to clean off the painted damage and after that locate a new customer that was looking for the specific services the captain and his crew offered.
The new owner of the black wood, Blokman Rufer, was satisfied about the transaction. Not only had he gotten rid of a lot of credits that he had acquired in dubious arrangements, the wood was also exactly the proper shade of black that he had hoped for.
His master shipbuilder came by the next day and rubbed several of his stubbly chins. "Looks good to me. Can make a nice lil' ship, sir. Want us to start today?"
Blokman held back a sigh. "That would be good, yes. Although starting yesterday would be better."
The master shipbuilder frowned and slowly nodded. "Not sure about that, but I'll see what I can do for you, sir." As he slouched off, Blokman shook his head. The shipbuilder was good at building ships, but the rest of him carried the air of being utterly useless. Despite all that, the shipbuilder arrived in the afternoon with his crew, flying along in five beautiful and spotless transport-shuttles designed for wood-moving. The black wood was loaded and then transported to the mill where the beams were sorted, cleaned, weighed, sorted again, cut, cleaned once more and in the end sorted for the last time, after which they were counted.
"The whole load is according to specs, " the owner of the mill assured the master shipbuilder. "We made it the way we did the last nine, so you can have your people quickly stick it together, and then sit on it for a month so you can charge a bit more before you deliver it."
The shipbuilder nodded, not certain if a few more credits was worth camping out on a new ship for a month. "It'll be fine, " he said as he approved the payment for the miller's work. All the wooden parts were loaded in the transport shuttles again and moved to the actual building site close to the water.
The men he employed were lounging around until all the wood was off-loaded. Then two of them pulled up a small console, punched a few buttons and waited for the machinery to collect and sort all the wooden parts. Slowly the stacks of wood were picked up and taken away in metal arms and hands, and four hours later the ship was taking shape.
"Boss, already know the name of the thing?" one of the men in the chairs asked the master shipbuilder.
"No idea, " was the reply.
"Funny name for a boat, " the question-asker said, feeling smart.
The master shipbuilder walked to his employee and lifted him from the chair. "You may think that I am not the brightest bulb in the shed, but you are mistaken, buddy. Our client has not yet conveyed the name of this new fine vessel, so I would advise you to keep your jaws together before I take up a mega-stapler and assist you in that." Then he dropped the man in the chair again. "Clear?"
"Uhhuh." The employee did not feel very smart any more.
The master shipbuilder then chuckled as he walked off. "No Idea would really be a funny name for a boat."
"You should be more careful around him, " a co-console-worker of the unfortunate employee whispered as he held up a maimed hand. "I was smart too, one day. He broke most of my fingers, so pushing the buttons is very painful at times. You got off lucky, he must be having a very gentle day."
"He may yet live to regret that, " another button-pusher added his share of knowledge.
During all that, the shipbuilder stood close to the nearly complete hull of the black ship. It was becoming a mighty fine ship, like the other mighty fine ships that had come out of the production process he had so carefully crafted. The fact that this one was black also made a nice change to the white or wood-coloured ones that most people wanted. The comment of the man he had just given a piece of his mind rang through his head. What would one call a black ship? The shipbuilder was fond of flower in a ship's name, but Black Flower sort of seemed to miss the point as there were no black flowers that he knew of. The next day the proud owner of the boat would come along, they'd have a talk about that.
As the heavy machines picked up the big beams that would make up the ship's deck, the master shipbuilder turned to his employees and told them to go home. There had been enough button-pushing for one day, or probably a week. Competition in the boat building sector was murder.
Experience a month in the life of the devil, and see that it is not all brimstone and roses. Note: this book is absolutely not fit for people who hold their religious beliefs close, and can't take a good laugh at things.
When Paul Eric Carmichael, an older British astrophysicist, meets Sandy, a young girl from the United States, his life goes overboard in more than one way. As he tries to make sense of it all, he learns things about aliens and their mysterious devices. In his work he faces challenges as well, because what are those strange flying objects that seem to be heading towards our solar system?
The appearance of The Black Flyer, a television super hero, shakes up the city of Green Haven. A group of role playing gamers wonders why the police and the army are apparently helpless against this super hero who doesn't act like the TV original and decide to take him on themselves.
For two years, Ashton had poured his heart into his marriage, yet Emalee's heart remained cold. Despite his dedication, Emalee presented him with divorce papers. She bluntly stated she could not remain married to a man whose net worth was less than a million dollars. Ashton signed the papers, closing one chapter of his life and stepping into a new beginning. Then, Ashton revealed his secret identities: a music mogul, a medical expert, and a martial arts master—each persona impressive enough to stun the world. As Ashton’s true capabilities came to light, Emalee was overwhelmed with deep regret.
Three years ago, Cecilia was left battered and alone by the man she loved most, Alston, yet she bravely completed the wedding ceremony while pregnant. Three years later, although they were married, they grew apart over time. Cecilia focused on her career, no longer foolishly believing in love. But her transformation instantly threw Alston into a panic... And what is the secret from 11 years ago that Cecilia has always been reluctant to reveal? *** "She went to a law firm, met with a lawyer..." A lawyer? Is Cecilia suing someone? Who? Is there any recent litigation against the company? Alston suddenly chuckled coldly, "Who could she sue? I'm the CEO of this company. How come such a matter doesn't come to me first?" The assistant swallowed nervously, speaking softly, "Sir, there's no litigation against the company. She met with... a divorce lawyer."
Two years ago, Ricky found himself coerced into marrying Emma to protect the woman he cherished. From Ricky's perspective, Emma was despicable, resorting to underhanded schemes to ensure their marriage. He maintained a distant and cold attitude toward her, reserving his warmth for another. Yet, Emma remained wholeheartedly dedicated to Ricky for more than ten years. As she grew weary and considered relinquishing her efforts, Ricky was seized by a sudden fear. Only when Emma's life teetered on the edge, pregnant with Ricky's child, did he recognize-the love of his life had always been Emma.
After a devastating divorce with the man she had been married to for over three years, Rachel thought her life was over. Her family disowned her, they wanted nothing to do with her anymore and she couldn't blame them. She had just divorced David Hart, one of the top successful bachelors in the country and heir to the Hart industries. But they would never understand that she didn't divorce him, he divorced her after she caught him cheating on her with her god-damned best friend! Rachel was just about to end everything by jumping off a bridge when she was saved by the most unexpected person. The boy she once bullied severally in highschool because he always wore ugly glass and was from a poor background, how come that glass make him so hot now? Why was he helping her get revenge on ex-husband who is trying to make her life even more miserable? And most important how did he get so handsome? What exactly does he want from her? ... No, you must want something, anything. If you can really help me get revenge on David and Lana, I can't just let you do it for free". Ethan went quiet for a while. I held my breath waiting for what his request might be. If it was something money could buy, I'll try my best to get it for him even though I was somehow broke right now. "You're right I do want something". He said after thinking for few minutes "What?" I asked slowly. " Until you get your revenge on David, Lana and every other person you want, you will live here". Live here as in...? " Wha... What are you saying? ". I stammered hoping he wasn't saying what I thought he was saying. I tried to step back but I missed a step and almost fell on the bed but Ethan caught me holding me in his muscular arms. Ethan moved his face closer to mine be was so close, our nose almost touched. " I want you to be with me! ".
Belinda thought after divorce, they would part ways for good - he could live his life on his own terms, while she could indulge in the rest of hers. However, fate had other plans in store. "My darling, I was wrong. Would you please come back to me?" The man, whom she once loved deeply, lowered his once proud head humbly. "I beg you to return to me." Belinda coldly pushed away the bouquet of flowers he had offered her and coolly replied, "It's too late. The bridge has been burned, and the ashes have long since scattered to the wind!"
After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."