Dead Man~
Redan Connor
The Juliana
Forsmoon, 4417
Redan woke dry-mouthed and groggy. Again. Clawing his way back to consciousness after a d**g-induced stupor was becoming rather tedious. He wondered what Amadeo was up to this time, and why the birdhouse was floating. He slid back down the dark tunnel of oblivion, and the hull creaked.
The hull. His eyes popped open as he realized he was at sea. His hands flew to his chest, patting down his shirt in search of the satchel of copied text.
“At the foot of your bunk,” an accented voice said in Innish.
Redan sat up too quickly and was rewarded with a searing hot poker skewering his temple. He gripped the satchel and flopped back with a groan.
“It will wear off in another day,” said the man in his cabin. “Perhaps two.”
Redan fought down
