And now I'm finally getting off my tushie and doing it. What is "this?" you ask, as well you should. "This" is posting the BeagleFic here as a freebie with a tip jar. I'm of the firm opinion that authors should do stuff like this from time to time, on the Baen Free Library model of "If they like the free stuff, they might be induced to actually buy the other stuff."
This is the story of the intrepid captain of the Inquisitive Tamandua (see what I did there? It's a curious anteater! Only more flowery), Russell Fisk, and what happens to him when he takes on a rather unusual job smuggling a pack of hunting dogs to a guy in desperate need of them before the neighbors have his head because of the rabbit problem he's caused. Fair warning, this did appear many years ago in much altered form as a Firefly story, but I've cut down my crew and added aliens. And a subplot.
So, I will shut up and get out of the way of the story.
Illegal Beagles
by Julie Frost
Captain Russell Fisk slouched into the co-pilot's chair of his battered interplanetary tramp freighter, the Inquisitive Tamandua, running a hand through his graying hair. "Take us off-world, Mandy. We've got work, finally." He crossed an ankle over his leg and tapped his boot on the floor with a distracted air.
His twenty-two-year-old daughter flipped some switches and began her takeoff sequence. "Neat. It's been awhile, and I'd kind of like to eat sometime this week." She noticed Russell's expression. "Um, Dad, you usually look happier when we have a job. Something about this one making you itch?"
"Why, no. You know how much I enjoy smuggling animals," he said dryly, as they broke free of the planet's gravity well. "I'm thrilled, ecstatic even. Really. But, hey. Work."
"Animals?" She grinned, pushing a lock of long brown hair behind her ear. "What kind?"
Russ leaned his head back against the chair. "Beagles, of all things."
"We're smuggling Beagles?" Amanda lifted her eyebrows. "What for?"
"Some idiot--I mean, Ben Foster, our esteemed client on Epsilon Three, that border planet they've just opened up?" At her nod, he continued. "He decided he wanted a wild game hunting preserve for small predators. Wolves and groompahs and servals and critters like that." Russ tugged at his beard. "Well, those things eat rabbits, so he imported a bunch of them. He assured the locals that nothing would get through his fences, but I've never yet seen a fence that'll keep a rabbit from going where it wants to."
( 'So, some of the rabbits got out and started multiplying like...rabbits,' Amanda said. )
This is the story of the intrepid captain of the Inquisitive Tamandua (see what I did there? It's a curious anteater! Only more flowery), Russell Fisk, and what happens to him when he takes on a rather unusual job smuggling a pack of hunting dogs to a guy in desperate need of them before the neighbors have his head because of the rabbit problem he's caused. Fair warning, this did appear many years ago in much altered form as a Firefly story, but I've cut down my crew and added aliens. And a subplot.
So, I will shut up and get out of the way of the story.
by Julie Frost
Captain Russell Fisk slouched into the co-pilot's chair of his battered interplanetary tramp freighter, the Inquisitive Tamandua, running a hand through his graying hair. "Take us off-world, Mandy. We've got work, finally." He crossed an ankle over his leg and tapped his boot on the floor with a distracted air.
His twenty-two-year-old daughter flipped some switches and began her takeoff sequence. "Neat. It's been awhile, and I'd kind of like to eat sometime this week." She noticed Russell's expression. "Um, Dad, you usually look happier when we have a job. Something about this one making you itch?"
"Why, no. You know how much I enjoy smuggling animals," he said dryly, as they broke free of the planet's gravity well. "I'm thrilled, ecstatic even. Really. But, hey. Work."
"Animals?" She grinned, pushing a lock of long brown hair behind her ear. "What kind?"
Russ leaned his head back against the chair. "Beagles, of all things."
"We're smuggling Beagles?" Amanda lifted her eyebrows. "What for?"
"Some idiot--I mean, Ben Foster, our esteemed client on Epsilon Three, that border planet they've just opened up?" At her nod, he continued. "He decided he wanted a wild game hunting preserve for small predators. Wolves and groompahs and servals and critters like that." Russ tugged at his beard. "Well, those things eat rabbits, so he imported a bunch of them. He assured the locals that nothing would get through his fences, but I've never yet seen a fence that'll keep a rabbit from going where it wants to."
( 'So, some of the rabbits got out and started multiplying like...rabbits,' Amanda said. )