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H.M.H. Murray
Goodreads Author
Born
The United States
Website
Twitter
Genre
Influences
Member Since
May 2024
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Navvy Dreams (Tales From a Stinking, Star-Crossed Milky Way #1)
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published
2024
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3 editions
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Navvies' Flight: Another Space Opera: Tales From a Stinking, Star-Crossed Milky Way
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For updates, previews of book three, musings about writing, worldbuilding, the occasional fanfiction snippet, and, as much as possible, an utter avoidance of the real world.
Come to the navvyverse. "We all float there."*
~H
*Stephen King.
https://hmhmurray.substack.com/ Read more of this blog post »
Come to the navvyverse. "We all float there."*
~H
*Stephen King.
https://hmhmurray.substack.com/ Read more of this blog post »
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H.M.H. Murray
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Do I have plot armor? If so, Westeros. If not, definitely NOT Westeros. We've seen some awesome planets lately in the Star Wars-verse, although a bunch were also blown up, so they're out... maybe Majipoor. It's gigantic. Lots to see.
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“Stars, Sam. We mucked it. I mean, I mucked it. And not just for us.
Yet I recall pure joy: your bike hot between my legs, your arms locked ’round my waist. I recall poor Second’s chiding before I blinked it off. I recall laughter and all of those soldiers from someone else’s war standing on that terrace singing yet another Terran victory rag.
You told me later that you didn’t know I’d make a run at the canyon wall ’til I torqued it, thumbing your bike’s twin throttles hard enough to singe our legs as the acceleration turned into an increasing roar. By the time we hit fifty, I couldn’t even hear you yelling at me to stop over the wind.
I didn’t think you were serious. We’d climbed that mesa in daylight when we were younger, smaller, bendier. We’d done it with safety rails and belts, with hoverbikes that floated back down like carnival balloons when we failed; we’d done it with our parents cheering and a Grass Priest standing watch in case we needed healing. That run should’ve been a lark, Sam. But the night was dark as space, and our planet has no moon.
You grabbed hard as I pulled the yoke. The engines screamed. I meant to pull up, climb that mesa vertically—see if we could rocket to the top before I gunned again like we’d done a hundred times as kids. But I timed it too late. I saw the mesa wall in our headlamps, and then everything went black. The next thing I recall is waking up on the Unity ship Ascendant with Ken’ri Mureen of Glos smiling down at me. Those big round eyes in her lovely, lying face.
I thought I’d surely killed you, Sam, but Mureen swore you were fine. Mureen swore removing my Second was only temporary—swore surgery would fix the soup the crash had made of my brain. She made me sign forms, and then Ma came in with pastries. I still didn’t believe you’d made it out, but Ma swore it too.
You know the gist after that—mostly—but there’s a lot I never told—”
― Navvy Dreams
Yet I recall pure joy: your bike hot between my legs, your arms locked ’round my waist. I recall poor Second’s chiding before I blinked it off. I recall laughter and all of those soldiers from someone else’s war standing on that terrace singing yet another Terran victory rag.
You told me later that you didn’t know I’d make a run at the canyon wall ’til I torqued it, thumbing your bike’s twin throttles hard enough to singe our legs as the acceleration turned into an increasing roar. By the time we hit fifty, I couldn’t even hear you yelling at me to stop over the wind.
I didn’t think you were serious. We’d climbed that mesa in daylight when we were younger, smaller, bendier. We’d done it with safety rails and belts, with hoverbikes that floated back down like carnival balloons when we failed; we’d done it with our parents cheering and a Grass Priest standing watch in case we needed healing. That run should’ve been a lark, Sam. But the night was dark as space, and our planet has no moon.
You grabbed hard as I pulled the yoke. The engines screamed. I meant to pull up, climb that mesa vertically—see if we could rocket to the top before I gunned again like we’d done a hundred times as kids. But I timed it too late. I saw the mesa wall in our headlamps, and then everything went black. The next thing I recall is waking up on the Unity ship Ascendant with Ken’ri Mureen of Glos smiling down at me. Those big round eyes in her lovely, lying face.
I thought I’d surely killed you, Sam, but Mureen swore you were fine. Mureen swore removing my Second was only temporary—swore surgery would fix the soup the crash had made of my brain. She made me sign forms, and then Ma came in with pastries. I still didn’t believe you’d made it out, but Ma swore it too.
You know the gist after that—mostly—but there’s a lot I never told—”
― Navvy Dreams
“Hindsight holds no clue, even as it tries to make logic from chaos. A fool’s task. With Kamen-lords, both physics and reason are forever suspended...”
― Navvy Dreams
― Navvy Dreams
“The local news kicked in just as I was crooning an omertà ballad.
“Hey, for all you school kids…” Da’s friend Teddy announced, “The Derra City’s militia’s having a bake sale to raise currency for more bombers!”
“Again?” I clapped off the feed and patted Junior. “More breakfast?”
Your son kicked in my belly, Sam. Like he understood.
Know yourself: That was what the therapy program kept telling me, before I disconnected it and threw the module away.
You know, Sam, recently I’ve gotten to know myself in ways that most folks can’t even fathom. And let me tell you, knowing yourself? It’s a stinking crock. You think you do, but when it comes down to it, you’re just as stupid and soft as everyone—and just as ill-equipped to deal with the end of the world.
Think about other things, Ma kept saying.
Ma was always more polite than you, and your: if-you-don’t-stop-talking-about-Starfire-I-want-a-divorce, but her words amounted to the same thing.
Think about other things? Why should I? No one else was. I’m not gonna lie, Sam. I know you’ve had to forgive a lot, but it’s still hard for me to forgive you. Because I was right, wasn’t I?”
― Navvies' Flight: Another Space Opera: Tales From a Stinking, Star-Crossed Milky Way
“Hey, for all you school kids…” Da’s friend Teddy announced, “The Derra City’s militia’s having a bake sale to raise currency for more bombers!”
“Again?” I clapped off the feed and patted Junior. “More breakfast?”
Your son kicked in my belly, Sam. Like he understood.
Know yourself: That was what the therapy program kept telling me, before I disconnected it and threw the module away.
You know, Sam, recently I’ve gotten to know myself in ways that most folks can’t even fathom. And let me tell you, knowing yourself? It’s a stinking crock. You think you do, but when it comes down to it, you’re just as stupid and soft as everyone—and just as ill-equipped to deal with the end of the world.
Think about other things, Ma kept saying.
Ma was always more polite than you, and your: if-you-don’t-stop-talking-about-Starfire-I-want-a-divorce, but her words amounted to the same thing.
Think about other things? Why should I? No one else was. I’m not gonna lie, Sam. I know you’ve had to forgive a lot, but it’s still hard for me to forgive you. Because I was right, wasn’t I?”
― Navvies' Flight: Another Space Opera: Tales From a Stinking, Star-Crossed Milky Way
“Hindsight holds no clue, even as it tries to make logic from chaos. A fool’s task. With Kamen-lords, both physics and reason are forever suspended...”
― Navvy Dreams
― Navvy Dreams
“Our Smuggler’s Handbook recommends disarming a dangerous situation by ignoring it, and so I was trying--”
― Navvy Dreams
― Navvy Dreams
“Stars, Sam. We mucked it. I mean, I mucked it. And not just for us.
Yet I recall pure joy: your bike hot between my legs, your arms locked ’round my waist. I recall poor Second’s chiding before I blinked it off. I recall laughter and all of those soldiers from someone else’s war standing on that terrace singing yet another Terran victory rag.
You told me later that you didn’t know I’d make a run at the canyon wall ’til I torqued it, thumbing your bike’s twin throttles hard enough to singe our legs as the acceleration turned into an increasing roar. By the time we hit fifty, I couldn’t even hear you yelling at me to stop over the wind.
I didn’t think you were serious. We’d climbed that mesa in daylight when we were younger, smaller, bendier. We’d done it with safety rails and belts, with hoverbikes that floated back down like carnival balloons when we failed; we’d done it with our parents cheering and a Grass Priest standing watch in case we needed healing. That run should’ve been a lark, Sam. But the night was dark as space, and our planet has no moon.
You grabbed hard as I pulled the yoke. The engines screamed. I meant to pull up, climb that mesa vertically—see if we could rocket to the top before I gunned again like we’d done a hundred times as kids. But I timed it too late. I saw the mesa wall in our headlamps, and then everything went black. The next thing I recall is waking up on the Unity ship Ascendant with Ken’ri Mureen of Glos smiling down at me. Those big round eyes in her lovely, lying face.
I thought I’d surely killed you, Sam, but Mureen swore you were fine. Mureen swore removing my Second was only temporary—swore surgery would fix the soup the crash had made of my brain. She made me sign forms, and then Ma came in with pastries. I still didn’t believe you’d made it out, but Ma swore it too.
You know the gist after that—mostly—but there’s a lot I never told—”
― Navvy Dreams
Yet I recall pure joy: your bike hot between my legs, your arms locked ’round my waist. I recall poor Second’s chiding before I blinked it off. I recall laughter and all of those soldiers from someone else’s war standing on that terrace singing yet another Terran victory rag.
You told me later that you didn’t know I’d make a run at the canyon wall ’til I torqued it, thumbing your bike’s twin throttles hard enough to singe our legs as the acceleration turned into an increasing roar. By the time we hit fifty, I couldn’t even hear you yelling at me to stop over the wind.
I didn’t think you were serious. We’d climbed that mesa in daylight when we were younger, smaller, bendier. We’d done it with safety rails and belts, with hoverbikes that floated back down like carnival balloons when we failed; we’d done it with our parents cheering and a Grass Priest standing watch in case we needed healing. That run should’ve been a lark, Sam. But the night was dark as space, and our planet has no moon.
You grabbed hard as I pulled the yoke. The engines screamed. I meant to pull up, climb that mesa vertically—see if we could rocket to the top before I gunned again like we’d done a hundred times as kids. But I timed it too late. I saw the mesa wall in our headlamps, and then everything went black. The next thing I recall is waking up on the Unity ship Ascendant with Ken’ri Mureen of Glos smiling down at me. Those big round eyes in her lovely, lying face.
I thought I’d surely killed you, Sam, but Mureen swore you were fine. Mureen swore removing my Second was only temporary—swore surgery would fix the soup the crash had made of my brain. She made me sign forms, and then Ma came in with pastries. I still didn’t believe you’d made it out, but Ma swore it too.
You know the gist after that—mostly—but there’s a lot I never told—”
― Navvy Dreams
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