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Ixy Fletcher wanted to wake up, but the soft cotton of her warm sheets overtook her willpower to do so. Emotional traces of a strange dream seemed vague and unrealistic in her half-awake mind, like the residual presence of lost memories.
After a bit of thought she could mentally visualize the mean looking spacecraft from her dream. It had reflective black thermal pads that were slicked back to resemble a black-hawk helicopter, and it was sitting idle in what seemed to be a hanger. It frightened her, though she’d never seen or heard of ship that looked that wicked.
She lingered on for several more minutes and thought about it, but the sound of a loose fan whirring in the ventilation ducts fifteen feet above interrupted her train-of-thought. It echoed through the spacious room in a very irritating manner, growing louder. Then, her alarm clock went off with a cacophonous buzz. Startled, she slapped at it off her chrome night-stand and it crashed to the floor, shattering into many plastic parts. It continued to buzz for several seconds before dying, and when it stopped the fan was no longer whirring erroneously.
“So much for peace and quiet,” she said, laughing. “Good morning,” she then stated; a voice command that caused the dark tint on her wall-sized windows to turn fully transparent within seconds, allowing for bright sunlight to flood through the room like a golden halo of comforting warmth. It swept up the white walls, glided across that shiny varathane finish on her hardwood floor, and gleamed against the reflective plastic of the broken alarm clock.
She arched her back to stretch stiff muscles, and then rubbed her eyes to better see the planetscape before her; Mars’s rust-choked surface occupied a majority of the multi-windowed view. It seemed to glow like a great burnt orange amidst a sea of black, with ancient terrain that consisted of vast badlands riddled with red iron sand-dunes and impact craters that were miles wide. Massive mountains overshadowed vast canyons, and each pole was capped by a solid dome of white ice. There wasn’t any liquid water on the planet, which gave it a feeling of dead dryness.
Baseline Station looked like an advanced satellite, but it wasn’t as fancy or cutting-edge as some of the newer research satellites. It was a relic from the early days of manned space exploration and artificial gravity. It was also an antique by now, which explained why it wasn’t in the best condition, although the older models were always more reliable. When in service, it was used as a pit-stop for the pioneers in space technology when they were just starting out. Now, however, it was quite underused. Few stopped through, and only for short periods of time. Ixy Fletcher was the only one that lived in Baseline, her parents owned it but she hadn’t seen them for awhile, quite a long time actually. They often took away missions as part of their research, so she was used to not having them around.
~~~~X~~~~
Solar Seas
Chapter 1.
Ixy awoke in a daze. The first thing she realized was that her leg throbbed and she didn’t know why, but it was a dull pain. She tried to wade through the thick onset of mental dizziness that came with most mornings, but her mind was groggy, probably fogged up with painkillers and other various medications judging by how she felt.
Strangely enough, Ixy couldn’t remember where she was, and her limbs felt weak, unused, the muscles barely responsive. How long had she been like this?
Her first instinct was to get out of bed, get some clothes on, and grab a coffee, but something was definitely wrong. Her confused state couldn’t be explained by a terrible hangover from excessive partying because her head wasn’t pounding in agony and her mouth wasn’t stale with the smelly after-taste of stale alcohol, not to mention that she’d quit drinking months ago.
The muscles in her chest began to tighten with anxiety as her concern grew, then she opened her eyes and they slowly focused in on immediate surroundings. Fuzzy fluorescent lights blurred into her peripheral vision, putting a bizarre spin on the square room, but she could tell right away that the room wasn’t familiar at all.
Three flat white walls surrounded her, stretching so far into the darkness above that she couldn’t see the ceiling, but other then that there wasn’t any furniture except the bed. There weren’t any markings on the walls and no nightstand by her bed.
There wasn’t even a clock or anything, and she couldn’t remember what day it was. She tilted her head up, which took considerable effort; and her neck muscles nearly seized up from the strain. She could see that the walls had small light strips traveling around the room near the baseboards of the grey linoleum floor, but the fourth wall was completely black.
She stared at the black wall for a moment, noticing that it was glossy like a window, and it reflected the light like it was made of glass or something of equal slickness. Perplexed, she tried to sit up but her body gave out. Her arms collapsed under the strain and she slumped back in the thick warm sheets with a flop. That’s when she became truly afraid. She tried to speak but her voice croaked with dryness and caused her eyes to water as she winced in pain. Her vocal cords just failed to produce legible sound. Where the hell am I, she thought?
~~~~X~~~~
“This sucks!” Rek exclaimed, “Why the hell do we have to drag this shit to the compactors anyway, why don’t we blow it up?” He looked to his sister Tynea for a sign of approval, but she shook her head and gave him a sly smirk. Rek was frustrated because the job didn’t pay that well, considering the amount of time it took.
When travel costs were taken into account they barely broke even, but apparently they owed their contractor a favor. “We’ve got the armaments, I bet nobody would notice,” he continued, desperately seeking an easy way out, “it would save us a lot of time!” Tynea looked up at him again, this time with a hint of irritation on her face.
The siblings usually got along well enough, but spending a week in close quarters aboard a cramped space hauler would set anyone off. They were both clad in navy blue jumpsuits specialized for deep-space travel, though they were still considered within residential space. Tynea had short black hair with bangs that surrounded her face, and her brother sported a shaggy brown mop of a hairstyle that rarely underwent any sort of care.
“Listen,” she stated flatly, “the contractor had specific instructions not to demolish it. It’s being recycled into a convenience station or something, so stop complaining like a moron and charge the tractor beams, alright?”
“God-damnit,” he scowled, “there’s at least a million other jobs I’d rather be doing, but I get stuck with this crap. Just remember, you owe me one.” She didn’t look back at him, choosing instead to smile nonchalantly and gaze away vaguely. It aggravated him, because he knew she was right, as she usually was.
“How about those tractor beams, bud?” she said calmly. He muttered something under his breath and rose from the pilot’s chair, headed to a backlit console on the starboard wall of the small cabin, and typed in some protocol to warm up the beams that would attract the old station that they’d then tow back.
“How far are we from mars, anyway? Must be close by now,” he questioned.
“Don’t worry about it, we’re almost there.”
The interior of Tynea’s ship was neat and functional with smooth glowing display panels and comfortable leather chairs, unlike its filthy exterior. She’d picked up the old rig second-hand from a military auction some years back, for a fair price too. She figured that it’d allow her to open her own hauling business since it was easy work, and it paid above average. After a few months of contracted work she signed up with a small firm that specialized in towing out old satellites, derelict spaceships, and whatever the newly colonized solar system could throw at them.
Occasionally, they’d get assigned to throw asteroids and comets off course by inversing their strong magnetic tractor beams, which would veer the projectiles off course and away from manmade constructs. It was very dangerous work. Luckily, her brother’s skill in piloting made the work simple, and he was compensated for his efforts, but he was very stubborn and didn’t like junk work. He had dreams of making it in the interplanetary racing circuit, an organization that catered to speed-freaks and gear-heads with nothing to lose. Naturally, he’d never stopped talking about it. All he cared about was speed and excitement, and piloting an old bloated junker was his last idea of fun, but at least it paid the bills. Though often with reluctance, he’d often help his sister out whenever she needed it. She’d saved his life numerous times, after all.
“So what’s the name of the place anyway?” Rek asked in a subdued tone. Tynea paused for a second, trying to recall the name. Failing that, she picked up a yellow clipboard with their job specifics and read it over.
“Says here that it’s called Baseline Station, an old experimental medical center, and it went out of biz decades of go. It’s just been floating in sub-orbital around mars since then. Hmm…” she stopped talking for a second to read further. “Now normally they’ll tell me to be careful with fragile equipment, but the way they state this makes me think that something really important is in there.”
“How so?”
“Well,” she began to read from the criteria section; ‘Under no circumstance should the employee enter or disturb the station in any way before or after transportation. Utmost care must be implemented to ensure that the station arrives undisturbed at all costs. Failure to do so will result in immediate termination.’
“So, I guess it would be a bad idea to blow it up then?” Rek admitted. They both laughed.
“I wonder why could be on there…. I’ve never gotten instructions like that before,” Tynea added.
“Well it was a medical station, right? Maybe there’s some valuable equipment of some kind still there, even if it’s outdated,” Rek said.
“I guess. Still, the whole thing strikes me as weird,” she said curiously, “but let’s not worry ourselves too much about it. If they’re this serious we better get there on schedule or it’ll be my ass in the frying pan.”
~~~~X~~~~
Ixy fought to move her limp arm to her face to wipe away sleep crust that had accumulated in her eyelids. Instead, the unresponsive limb came flailing up in an uncontrolled way, smacking her in the forehead. The smack left a noticeable red mark on her face, and she cringed as it stung with pain. She was fully alert now, with clear vision and a heightened awareness, but still clueless as to where she was. Suddenly, she heard a whirring sound that was accompanied by machine-like movements. It was emanating from an unseen source within the darkness above. She froze for a moment as the sound grew louder, then she pretended to be asleep. Through barely open eyes, she could see the body of a small hovering medical droid descend through a pipe up in the ceiling, its glowing blue LEDs illuminated some of the darkness above. She could recognize the unit, seeing as it was a standard issue that most hospitals had. She opened her eyes and tried to speak to it, but her voice was so hoarse and dry that even as she tried to call to the droid all that came out was a barely audible squeak. The floating machine approached her curiously as it extended its gleaming metallic arms. The delicate arms revealed an array of medical instrumentation in the form of needles, sharp scalpels, and other things that she hadn’t the faintest idea of.
“Please hold still,” it instructed with an eerie synthesized male voice. Then, the unit floated right next to her leg, removed the sheet effortlessly, and began injecting some translucent fluid onto her thigh. It was then that she tilted her head up to examine the wound; a vicious looking gash that was nearly the length of her femur. Concern would have paralyzed her then had the drugs not taken effect immediately, courtesy of the droids fluid application. The world around her grew fuzzy and warm, she felt no pain.
“Please continue your rest cycle for several more hours before returning to normal activity,” the droid buzzed.
“Okay,” she said softly, her voice had returned. Not only that, her muscles became filled with activity and renewed strength. Whatever the robot had given her had completely restored her motor functions in addition to doping her senses. “Where am I?” she asked quickly. The droid turned back to her before leaving, its spherical body was the size of a bowling ball, and hovered about five feet off the ground.
“Baseline station, medical wing,” it responded, and then quickly ascended into the dark pipelines above before she could ask more questions. Baseline, she thought, where is that? As her mind raced to make a connection, more strange noises began. It started with a low metallic grating sound, like gears moving an object of considerable weight. She looked up and noticed that the black wall in front of her began receding, slowly revealing a Martian landscape. Red light blinded her momentarily as it flooded through the room. It seemed impossibly bright, and her eyes took awhile to adjust, but they did, and she gasped at the sight.
“Mars!” she exclaimed to herself. She shook her head in disbelief, this wasn’t right. As she stood in amazement, memories began flooding through her head. The last thing she could remember was being on board an average transport vessel en route to a popular transfer hub outside of Elliptical Six, a major population center located in earth’s inner quadrant. But now, Mars’s rust-choked surface occupied at least two thirds of her view, like a great burnt orange. It consisted of vast badlands riddled with red iron sand-dunes and impact craters that stretched on for miles. Its massive mountains overshadowed canyons in the reflected sunlight, and each pole was capped by solid domes of white ice, though the planet was dead, dry, and had no liquid water. But, it was beautiful nonetheless. It seemed completely different from the glowing green landmasses and cotton-white clouds that mingled between shimmering bodies of dark blue water on earth, but the mysteriousness of being near something so unknown was profound. Without further delay, she rose from the bed and felt the cold floor against her feet. She stood up and walked slowly around the room, all the while staring at the view as if transfixed by it. Still shaking her head in disbelief, she approached one of the walls and touched it, causing a rectangular entryway to open soundlessly. She knew that touching the wall would open the door, but couldn’t remember why. The station was now becoming more familiar, as if she’d lived there before. This frightened her, and she began to question the integrity of her long term memory. She proceeded through the entryway and down a bland hallway and noticed the ropelike wires that were suspended near the low ceiling above her head. For the first time, she looked down at herself and noticed that she was wearing something similar to a blue medical gown, though it didn’t provide much warmth. While walking cautiously forward, the medical droid suddenly crossed her path.
“Hello Ixy,” it stated, “are you well?” Dumbfounded, she stood there soundlessly until thinking of a question to ask.
“How do you know my name?” she asked. The robot calculated a response and looked at her, as if to be confused as to why its patient was concerned with something to trivial.
“I’ve been assigned to aid in your recuperation, such information is required,” it said flatly.
“Recuperation, how long have I been here?”
“27 years,” it said.
“What?!?” she blurted, looking at the small machine in utter disbelief. The next few words she attempted to articulate came out as fragmented sounds with little coherence. The droid merely orbited in midair, completely unaware.
“Is something wrong, Ms. Fletcher?” it asked casually. She started shaking as memories of her family surfaced in the forefront of her imagination, were they even still alive? She began to cry. Noticing the discomfort its patient was experiencing, the droid hovered near to her, and injected her with a mild anesthetic. She soon slipped into dreamland, and the droid carried her back to bed, which put a considerable strain on its anti-gravity lifts.
~~~~X~~~~
Baseline Station slowly orbited through the Mars’s dark side, not to see sunlight again for several more hours. Tynea’s ship was close enough to enter high orbit around the planet, and it did so effortlessly. One thing about the ex-military ship was that its entry and docking computers were still considered cutting edge compared to civilian craft, which is something that had always come in handy for her line of work. Rek slept quietly in his overhead bunk as his sister sat at the pilot’s chair with a lukewarm coffee in her hand. She’d been awake for too long, and her eyes felt sore as she gazed over the dim control panel lights.
“Hey,” she said loudly, in Rek’s direction, “wake up lazy ass. We have work to do.” He responded with a groan of disconcertion. It had been days since either of them had gotten any decent sleep, which made the work even more irritating. “Come on, you’re coffee’s ready and everything, let’s not delay.”
“Alright, alright…” he said bitterly, rising slowly from the small bunk. He took a moment to straighten out his rumpled jumpsuit and looked at Tynea. “You’re in my chair.”
“And you’re in my ship!” she joked. “But anyway I have the codes locked in, I just need you to maneuver the beams right, ok?”
“Alright, yeah, where’ that coffee?” he demanded. Suddenly, the transmission receiver began beeping. It was represented by a small red LED on the dash panel of the ship’s controls.
“That’s odd,” Tynea said, “first time someone’s ever called me on the job.” She pressed the switch and an image projected itself against the glass view-shield in front of them both. There was an old man’s face, unfamiliar, and he didn’t look very happy.
“My name’s Visvin Shariv,” he stated pointedly, “I’m the assigned overseer of transportation activity in this quadrant, who might you be?”
“Hi, I’m Tynea,” she said, then pointed to her half-awake brother, “this is my co-pilot. We’re here for work, is there something wrong?”
“Something is wrong, in fact,” he said condescendingly, “and you shouldn’t be here.” His face became stern with authority. Tynea searched for a neutral response to offer the man, but she wasn’t sure how to handle the situation since nobody had bothered her during work before.
“Well, sir,” she stated, “I’ve got authorization papers here, if you’d care to take a look. My contractor has assigned me a high priority removal job of an old medical station in low orbit around Mars.” He began to shake his head, and scowled slightly.
“This place is off limits to civilians, now please leave before I escort you out,” he demanded. Tynea began to get angry.
“Well, give me a reason why I shouldn’t take this up with your superiors?” she snapped, “I told you, I’m only here for a short time, and I’ll be out quick, ok? This job is very important and I must do it if I want to stay employed. So, unless you give me a legitimate reason that will satisfy my boss, I won’t budge!” The transmission promptly ended with a blip, and Rek looked surprised.
“Wow, you really told him off didn’t you?” he laughed.
“I’ve dealt with their kind before,” she admitted, “quadrant guards; no better then mall-cops. I’m amazing that anyone even bothers enforcing outdated patrol laws anyway.”
The pair sat silently in their control room chairs as they descended closer to the Martian atmosphere, they could see the faint glimmer of Baseline off in the distance. It looked almost brand new, like it had been built and left there, undergoing almost no use. It had a chrome like shell of a hull that gleamed brightly in any direct light, it must have cost a fortune to make, but with all the advances in space residence technology, people were keen on scraping obsolete stations to make way for new ones in a never ending cycle of upgrades and advancement. Some said that all the fast-paced excitement of space living and innovation had left the general population confused as to the best way to do things and most people didn’t even remember how the old technology worked. Countless billions now inhabited interplanetary residences maintained by democratic quadrant governments, but the system was so corrupt that nothing was without a price. Tynea knew the system well since her father was a politician, which is why she was able to obtain a working permit without having to commit to obligatory military service. Her brother, on the other hand, was dishonorably discharged from the forces for racing illegally with a military craft, and later crashing it into a research outpost near Saturn. They might have revoked his citizenship entirely, and would have shipped him off to the silicate mines on Io, had he not been the son of a politician either, though his father basically disowned him after the incident. Rek was more or less a drifter, but it suited his personality.
Tynea’s ship closed in on the station as Rek charged the tractor beam, it was all routine stuff. They hadn’t paid the warning much mind, concluding that the old man wouldn’t do much anyway. Usually people were all talk, at least from what they’d learned from experience. Sometimes, they’d get assigned to remove old housing units that were still occupied, and some stubborn residents would do anything to stay in their homes. It wasn’t easy telling people to get lost and find a new place to live, but it’s not like they weren’t compensated for it. This station, however, looked completely dead. No lights were on inside, at least none that either of them could see. The ship rumbled and whined as massive amounts of power diverted to the massive magnet, it took a lot of juice to run. Slowly but surely, Baseline Station began moving towards the rig, like an old tooth being ripped out of a jaw. Tynea oversaw the operation as Rek fiddled with the controls, which consisted of a joystick and monitor to make sure everything was lined up.
“Almost got it locked, you can start the engines now,” he said, still somewhat tired from lack of sleep.
“Alright, lets bring it home,” Tynea said, and she pressed down the forward thruster ignition with a beep, causing the ship to rumble even more. The engines were old and loud, and it took her experience with mechanics to maintain them. Then, out of nowhere, the sound of charged energy bolts striking thermal metal erupted in the control room. The pair nearly fell out of there seats from the impact. Bewildered, Rek got up immediately and went over to check his sister.
“Jesus Christ! What hit us?” he said, coughing slightly.
“Check the scanners, there might be some debris headed our way…” Tynea said. They were then struck a second time with a salvo of blasts that shook the siblings to the ground once again, but this time they both rose quickly and began evasive maneuvers immediately. The transmission receiver lit up, it caught both their eyes.
“That old bastard, I knew it!” Rek exclaimed. He hit the button angrily and the old man’s face was generated upon the view screen again.
‘I told you to GET OUT!” the man yelled, his face was red with anger. “I will fire again!”
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rek replied, “This isn’t legal, you’re not a quadrant patrol are you!”
“Are you trying to kill us?” Tynea added.
“If you don’t leave, maybe I will kill you!” the man said.
“You crazy fool… we’re not going out without a fight,” Rek said, clenching his fists. The transmission ended and the firefight began. Without words, Tynea and Rek hit an adrenaline high as they jumped into action.
“Weapons online,” Rek said. Tynea was already tracing the man’s ship into her targeting computers. Suddenly, the enemy ship disappeared entirely, and left no residual energy signal.
“OK, where did that old fart go?” she said, tossing her hands up in confusion.
“A cloak… I’ve never seen one of those before…” Rek said vaguely, looking astonished.
“Just what in god’s name are you talking about?” Tynea said, looking back at him with a strange expression, “Are you saying he had one of those prototypes? Nobody has those.”
“Yet,” Rek added, “But the technology has been designed, it’s just not commercially available,” he said.
‘Well we’re getting out of here – now. I’m not risking my life for some stupid station, no job is worth that.” And with that, she pulled up engine controls, but her spirits took a dive as she read the damage report. “Shit. He hit our engines…”
“Are you serious? Those will take days to fix!” Rek said helplessly.
“This day couldn’t get any worse. Just watch the bridge and I’ll see if I can get something temporary to work for us.” Tynea leapt out of her chair and climbed down the maintenance ladder with no time to waste, there was no telling how long they’d be safe before the crazy old man decided to come back and finish them off. Things weren’t looking good.
Ixy had no idea what to think when the explosions woke her up. At first, the pull of the tractor beam had frightened her, and she had no idea what was going on. The shuddering Station grinded to a halt once Tynea’s ship broke off and tried to escape, and Ixy ran to the window to see what was going on. She could see the old rig, and it was just sitting there a few hundred yards from the Station. She had no way of communicating with it or escaping any sort of danger, and her memory was still cloudy and fragmented. The droid entered the room from up above to assess her condition.
“Hey!” she called to it, “What was that? Who’s in that ship?”
“Nothing to be concerned about, Ms. Fletcher, please return to your bed and continue your sleep cycle,” it droned.
“But I can’t sleep! What’s going on? Answer me!” she insisted. The small droid seemed to appear aggravated as it hovered about the room, tidying up her sheets that had fallen to the ground.
“I’m sorry Ms. Fletcher, but for your safety I must advise you to return to sleep and ask no further questions,” it said. Then, the unit selected a small syringe from its storage compartment, and approached her slowly. The slick glass of the shiny instrument gleamed like a sinister prick in the florescent light. “This will ease the pain.”
“No! Leave me alone!” she screamed, kicking at the droid and sending the needle flying before it smashed to the ground. The droid would have let out a sigh had it the ability to do so. At that moment, an old man entered the room…
“Ixy, I have no time to explain,” he said with short breath, “please do as the droid asks, I will take care of the ship outside. Do not fear me. I’m taking care of you.” Her eyes bulged with puzzlement.
“You better explain to me what’s going on right now,” she said angrily, “I have absolutely no idea where I am or what’s going on…”
“There’s no time to explain, I have to go now, but I’ll be back.”
“I’ve been here for almost three decades! You owe me an explanation,” she said. The man stopped for a moment before he could rush out the door, and looked back.
“Fine,” he conceded, “you’re suffering from a disease that there’s no current cure for, if you must know, but I’m working on a cure!” he said quickly, she stared back blankly. “Just listen, you have no memory because it’s in a state of constant state of deconstruction and recompilation, I know this because I’ve studied every known pattern you’ve exhibited in your time at this station. And I am close, so close, to finding a cure!”
“So, what you’re basically saying is that you’ve studied me for almost 30 years because you want to cure me?!” she said concernedly, “Who in the right mind does something like that?”
“Your father,” he said plainly, “that’s who. And now they’re trying to scrap this facility just because I haven’t kept up with all my taxes, the nerve of those fools! I love you Ixy, and I want to save you. But I have to protect you! They’ll keep coming now, and you must remain vigilant while I hold them off.” He looked up and noticed that the droid had already applied another dosage of anesthetic and she was passed out on the bed again. “Did you have to do that?” he asked the droid, which merely shrugged its mechanical limbs.
Tynea was able to repair the ship with no time to waste, and they quickly booted it out of Mars’s orbit before thinking twice about the ordeal. Her boss was going to be pissed, and her ship was in need of more extensive repairs. Her goal was to return to mars and scrap that station if it was the last job she’d ever do, much to Rek’s disappointment. All he wanted to do was race.
~~~~X~~~~
As The Baseliner decelerated, pinpricks of dim blue lighting from entry barrier ahead refracted through its fortified plasiglass vacuum-shield. Inside the control-pit, the myriad instrumentation of glowing control dials and indicators danced across the vehicle`s dash panel in the darkness. Dull shades of pale blue and pineapple yellow weaved pipe-like through an elaborate configuration of cargo readouts and coordinates, two reclining crewmen in grubby green jumpsuits observed. A rectangular satellite radio was jerry rigged into a grey plastic relay box near the fuel gauge, playing the very best Industrial Rock.
The sleepless crewmen were off in their own distant fatigue-induced fantasies about gorgeous young women and Earth’s few places of beauty, both in low supply. Colony Tirath was contained within an enormous celestial sphere, the exterior of which was shrouded in reflective squares of solar panelling.
Functional and elaborate, all developed to support its eternal inhabitants.
A computerized female voice spoke broke the hypnotic buzz of electronic activity with an irritatingly monotonous drone. It worked best at obnoxiously loud to alert the negligent. “We are now entering Colony Tirath. Please be sure to wait while until all transecting cargo bars are in position before exiting the vehicle. Also, please be sure to enact all safety protocols and report to head office upon arrival. Also, please be sure-”
“Blah-blah-blah-blah,” said Grib as he rolled his eyes. His slick black hair was a stark contrast to the vitamin-deficient pastiness of his pockmarked face. “Chrissake Reggie,” he began again, “her voice is getting on my nerves. Can you just shut her off?”
It was Grib’s first mission aboard a cargo rig, he’d been asked to take the job right out of sorting, much to his dismay. He’d never really had much luck with government assigned work, the job criteria was always vague.
It wasn’t long before he realised that he would be spending several weeks staring out of a big rectangular vacuum-shield, star-gazing. He had discovered that after untold hours of observance, the beautiful panorama of space became a desensitizing black expanse; dead and cold. Intermittent circulation loss prevented prolonged comfort, courtesy of un-ergonomic class 2 standard seats. Such occupational distinctions simply weren’t outlined in the briefing.
The bearded pilot looked over at his uneasy companion with a slanted eyed stare. The deeply rooted creases that formed when he frowned seemed to traverse through an impossible maze of grime-clogged pores near his crooked nose.
“Hey smartass, you’re the trainee here. Shut yourself off,” he stated, and in his fleeting glint of cleverness, remembered; “I may be older then this beat-up rig, and probably most of the equipment it employs, but I got sense, boy. That’s what you need.” Reggie’s warm breath was a mix of rotten tobacco and advanced tooth decay, Grib winced when the old man spoke.
“More sense huh?” Grib curled a stupid grin into his flat lips, “like that time you almost got us cut to shreds in that asteroid field? Lots of sense. . . Cough, sarcasm,” he added.
“Oh fuck-off. What kind of idiot says ‘cough’?” Reggie wheezed some kind of laugh. “Verify the damn docking codes or something, make yourself useful kid.”
Grib resigned his agitation and gazed over at the blinking display that hovered over his left leg. He began to shake his head in disappointment. “What kinds of codes are these, are you drunk?” he asked, “relays and numbers... they’re all wrong. You’ve lost your mind.” Reggie waved a dismissive hand at the remark. He then rubbed his blood-shot eyes with oil stained hands, bits of black grit smearing against his eyelids.
“Just a little tired, that’s all,” he said informatively, “and it’s your job to be a champ and fix it.”
“Not until you turn the damn voice off. That’s all I ask,” said Grib. Reggie clenched his jaw in frustration.
“OK listen,” he said, “I’ve been hearing that damn voice for the better part of my working life. Don’t talk to her in a derogatory manner. She, my friend, will be the only trace of femininity you’ll hear for months to come.” Reggie was pointing his finger at him as some sign of mutual understanding, but it was clear that his message wasn’t getting through.
``Yeah... respect. And to think, I could have been doing something worth a damn like working for Train-way Galaxy or something. This is the most bullshit job. Someone my age shouldn’t be freighting long-haul anyway, why did I have to get sorted into this? What happened to all the old crazy space truckers?” Grib tilted his head back slightly, lost in a glimpse of nostalgia. Reggie merely nodded to express his disinterest as he gazed out the vacuum-shield.
“Dead my son, they’re all dead,” he replied, seeming to convey an undertone of retrospective sadness.
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