conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled Space Rogues about Flash, Gordon, Pulp with the genre: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: "This was pure Flash Gordon space opera stuff, and the author kept the story moving at a fast pace with characters the reader will love." - Pulp Den
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Space Rogues
  Bennie starts choking on his tea. Gabe leans forward to look at his small friend as Wil continues, extending his hand. "I need to run the details by the others, but I think we're in."
  Xarrix extends his own hand and shakes Wil's. "I still don't understand the significance of this," he says, tilting his head toward their two clasped hands.
  Wil nods. "Yeah. He's a dick of the highest order, no doubt. But money up front, and sounds like a ton of it—that's enticing."
  Gabe and Wil both look up the street at the half-dozen aliens of as many different species waiting there, all in dark red robs, hoods up over their heads. "Who're these guys?" Wil asks. The only difference between these six and every other robed alien nearby is that the six approaching have dark gray sashes with some type of badge on it across their bodies.
  Wil sighs and stops dead in his tracks. He turns back toward their pursuers. "Hi there, fellas. Is there something we can do for you?"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Wil shakes his head. "She's worth more alive than dead." He looks down at the feline featured woman at his feet. "Probably." When she looks up at him, he looks away.
  Standing, adjusting the borrowed armor, Cynthia says again, "I didn't betray you." She holds a hand up as Zephyr once again growls and leans forward. "However, my orders were to subdue you if ordered. There's a canister of nitrozene tied to the main air exchanger."
  Cynthia reaches into her jumpsuit leg pocket, slowly removing a small remote. She hands it to Wil. "Lorath or Xarrix must have done something to the ship. I was to use this, but I'm guessing Xarrix, or Lorath, realized I'd betrayed their confidence."
  Wil shrugs. "Neither has been aboard during this mission and—son of a bitch." He turns to Bennie. "Scour the main computer. I'm guessing a subroutine that's never run, just executed."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Wil shakes his head. "She's worth more alive than dead." He looks down at the feline featured woman at his feet. "Probably." When she looks up at him, he looks away.
  Standing, adjusting the borrowed armor, Cynthia says again, "I didn't betray you." She holds a hand up as Zephyr once again growls and leans forward. "However, my orders were to subdue you if ordered. There's a canister of nitrozene tied to the main air exchanger."
  Cynthia reaches into her jumpsuit leg pocket, slowly removing a small remote. She hands it to Wil. "Lorath or Xarrix must have done something to the ship. I was to use this, but I'm guessing Xarrix, or Lorath, realized I'd betrayed their confidence."
  Wil shrugs. "Neither has been aboard during this mission and—son of a bitch." He turns to Bennie. "Scour the main computer. I'm guessing a subroutine that's never run, just executed.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Wil smiles. "Cool. Yeah, thanks." He coughs, then continues, ignoring Bennie, "So, the elephant in the room..."
  She looks first at Cynthia, then Wil. "Look, I'll be the first to admit I wasn't a fan of Cynthia when she came aboard. I mean, she was sent to manage us, after all. But we got to know each other aboard Gumto, plus she stood up to Lorath and Xarrix and did the right thing." She smiles at the Tygran woman. "There's room on this ship for her if she's interested." Then she chuckles a bit. "Plus I wouldn't mind a little more feminine energy aboard the ship. It's a bit of a—what's the phrase Wil uses? Sausage party."
  If you want to stay informed on new releases, get Work In Progress updates and more, you can sign up for my newsletter.
  Being a writer is one of those childhood dreams that you sort of dismiss as you get older. I mean, sure you can go into copywriting (did that), technical writing (did that too), but if telling stories is your dream, it's not the same.
  When I published 1 it was one of those 'dream come true' moments. When it started selling, it was one of those 'oh my god, people like what I write' moments.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: When it started selling, it was one of those 'oh my god, people like what I write' moments..
  When I published 1 it was one of those 'dream come true' moments. I mean, sure you can go into copywriting (did that), technical writing (did that too), but if telling stories is your dream, it's not the same.
  Being a writer is one of those childhood dreams that you sort of dismiss as you get older."
  If you want to stay informed on new releases, get Work In Progress updates and more, you can sign up for my newsletter. It's a bit of a—what's the phrase Wil uses? Sausage party. "Plus I wouldn't mind a little more feminine energy aboard the ship." Then she chuckles a bit. "There's room on this ship for her if she's interested." She smiles at the Tygran woman. But we got to know each other aboard Gumto, plus she stood up to Lorath and Xarrix and did the right thing. I mean, she was sent to manage us, after all. "Look, I'll be the first to admit I wasn't a fan of Cynthia when she came aboard."
  She looks first at Cynthia, then Wil..." He coughs, then continues, ignoring Bennie, "So, the elephant in the room. Yeah, thanks. "Cool.Wil smiles
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first three paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Space Rogues
  The two prisoners, surrounded by almost a dozen Partherians, walk down the corridor of the battleship. There's no mistaking its design as Partherian: octagonal halls with harsh white lighting and bare metal grates for the floor, a faint odor of moss. The entire entourage is making their way towards the small prisoner's galley for the prisoners' afternoon meal.
  As the group turns, prisoners and jailers alike, they come face-to-face with a single biped standing in the corridor. The stranger is wearing a long brown coat over some type of spacesuit with integrated body armor. Their head is completely covered by a form-fitting helmet and face-mask. The entire faceplate is mirrored and outlined in a blue glow.
  The intruder raises two pulse pistols into the air—blasts ring out, dropping six of the Partherian guards. As the rest scatter, the two prisoners fall to the floor, the metal grating pressing against them. The stranger is still standing in the center of the corridor, the faint sparkle of a personal energy shield visible. Blaster bolts are striking the shield, causing it to ripple and flicker. The personal shield is absorbing more hits than most off-the-shelf models are capable of—it's clearly a modified version meant to handle serious abuse.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.. End with the sentence '"'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Wil looks down at his hands. There's grime and whatever that was on the table on them. "I don't want to leave the ship. I don't know you any better than I did a week ago, and I know more about Jax and Rolo than I ever wanted to... but now that I'm stuck out here, in space, and can never go home, I want to see it all."
  Lanksham smiles. "I thought you might say that. Good to hear. This planet sucks, but I wanted it to be your choice. Be clear: this isn't a cruise ship. If you're crew, you work. We do what we need to, to keep flying. We don't do always do nice things."
  Wil isn't entirely sure what that means, but knows this ship, its crew, and its captain are all part of some kind of space piracy. "I understand."
  Lanksham smiles. "I doubt it—but you will, eventually." He continues toward the bridge. "The crew lounge isn't going to clean itself."
  Wil is sitting in the lounge he's just cleaned when Rolo-- the taller of the two aliens—enters. "Hey tiny creature, this place looks nice."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Zephyr nods back. "Attacking craft," she says, her voice all business, despite the battle raging outside, "this is your only warning. Power down your engines and weapons, or be destroyed." Then there is the familiar soft beep, telling Wil the channel has been closed. "Bennie?" Zephyr asks.
  A soft beep announces the channel is open. A few seconds later comes a familiar raspy voice. "You have them?"
  Wil pushes through the shuffling animals to the port side of the hold, where he grabs some of the feed Xarrix's henchman gave him. He scoops it up and tosses it to the floor. The salamander-cows, as Wil has decided to call them, shuffle around. Long, prehensile tongues loll out and writhe on the floor looking for the pellets.
  Wil drops into one of the large chairs in the crew lounge, a grum in one hand, something like beef jerky in the other. "Computer, update on search routine, 'find Wil friends'?" He looks at the ceiling, waiting.
  With six hours to go, he looks around the lounge. "Mr. Sulu, are we still on course?" He nods slowly a few times. "Good, good." He looks over to the couch-thing, also empty. "Commander Worf, weapons status?" More nodding, then Wil sighs, and says, "Good. Hope we won't need weapons to transport salamander-cows."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: ". "Attacking craft," she says, her voice all business, despite the battle raging outside, "this is your only warning. Power down your engines and weapons, or be destroyed." Then there is the familiar soft beep, telling Wil the channel has been closed. "Bennie?" Zephyr asks.
  A soft beep announces the channel is open. A few seconds later comes a familiar raspy voice. "You have them?"
  Wil pushes through the shuffling animals to the port side of the hold, where he grabs some of the feed Xarrix's henchman gave him. He scoops it up and tosses it to the floor. The salamander-cows, as Wil has decided to call them, shuffle around. Long, prehensile tongues loll out and writhe on the floor looking for the pellets.
  Wil drops into one of the large chairs in the crew lounge, a grum in one hand, something like beef jerky in the other. "Computer, update on search routine, 'find Wil friends'?" He looks at the ceiling, waiting.
  With six hours to go, he looks around the lounge. "Mr. Sulu, are we still on course?" He nods slowly a few times. "Good, good." He looks over to the couch-thing, also empty. "Commander Worf, weapons status?" More nodding, then Wil sighs, and says, "Good. Hope we won't need weapons to transport salamander-cows.Zephyr nods back.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Space Rogues
  Bennie cackles, and in a mocking voice says, "The Xenetan pirates are known throughout this sector, blah blah blah." He drops to the ground, kneeling, and cries out, "Don't hurt us! Please! Mercy!" Then he doubles over, laughing.
  Zephyr takes her seat, bringing her own console to life. "I'll admit, getting a letter of Marque from the Harrith government has proven to be less of a terrible idea than I first assumed. There is something satisfying in kicking pirate ass, as Wil would say." She reaches up and releases her hair from the ponytail she prefers to use when in combat.
  Wil beams. "So I was right? I'll take it." He leans back and puts his boots on the pilot station in front of him. "Bennie, what's up next?"
  The small Brailack gets up from the floor and hurries to his console. He swipes the screen a few times. "We've got a few options. There's a mining colony that's been harassed by pirates a few times, so they're asking for help. There's an agricultural settlement that's offering a pretty credit for some livestock transfer. There's a freighter convoy looking for some protection out in the badlands, and a few other things on the network." A few more swipes. "The livestock job actually has the highest guaranteed pay-out."
  The hatch to the bridge opens, and Maxim walks in. "I've secured the last of the crates we took on, what's next?"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me three more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Before Wil or Zephyr can object, Murta rushes in ahead. Both sigh and move inside, followed by Xan. Wil heads left, Zephyr right, clearing the large space with military precision. Both announce "clear" at the same time. When they come back to the center of the room, Murta is standing there, where a massive pillar is glowing, faintly.
  Xan and Zephyr are standing over a console in the starboard bulkhead. Xan looks up. "This," she says, pointing at the pillar Wil is standing next to, "is, I think, some type of access to the central computer. The fact that it's on confirms that there is some type backup power available." As they watch, the lights showing in the pillar changes slightly.
  Zephyr adds, "I'm thinking we're not going to get very far without more power." She gestures to the panel. "This is barely functional. I'd guess there's a power-cell somewhere in the base, meant to keep it running between switching from main power to backup. However long it's been doing that job, it must be almost depleted."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Before Wil or Zephyr can object, Murta rushes in ahead. Both sigh and move inside, followed by Xan. Wil heads left, Zephyr right, clearing the large space with military precision. Both announce "clear" at the same time. When they come back to the center of the room, Murta is standing there, where a massive pillar is glowing, faintly.
  Xan and Zephyr are standing over a console in the starboard bulkhead. Xan looks up. "This," she says, pointing at the pillar Wil is standing next to, "is, I think, some type of access to the central computer. The fact that it's on confirms that there is some type backup power available." As they watch, the lights showing in the pillar changes slightly.
  Zephyr adds, "I'm thinking we're not going to get very far without more power." She gestures to the panel. "This is barely functional. I'd guess there's a power-cell somewhere in the base, meant to keep it running between switching from main power to backup. However long it's been doing that job, it must be almost depleted.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Wil glances over to Bennie, who shrugs, then back to the PADD on the table. "Cool. Like what? You want to form a super-secret mercenary force that does what the Peacekeepers can't, on your behalf? Doing good deeds on the down low? Privately funded by you, of course."
  Wil flips Bennie off, then looks back down at the PADD. "Fine, whatever." He settles back into his chair. "So, what's the job? Not livestock, right?"
  If you want to stay informed on new releases, get Work In Progress updates and more, you can sign up for my newsletter.
  When I was in third grade, I entered the Puget Sound Young Authors competition, with a story about comic strip character Ziggy (I had a lot of Ziggy stuff as a kid) saving the Space Needle from aliens. I won an award, and a writer was born.
  I've always loved telling stories. It's in my blood, I know this without a doubt. Being able to take some of the stories in my head and put them on paper... well on screen as it were, has been some of the most fun I've had in my life. When I wrote 1, I wasn't sure if there was a 2, but now I know for sure, that there are many more stories to tell!