"Space debris, huh...", Razinsky said as the voice in the speakers died out.
Singer nodded, "Yeah, hell of a blow..."
Razinsky looked thoughtful but didn't speak. He shrugged, picked up his towel and headed for the showers.
Singer carefully folded the end of his pants before tucking them into the boots. He tightened the straps and pushed the flap in place with a click. Shrapnel safe or not, you wouldn't want to run many miles in boots like this. Still, the navy's allright he thought. His second cousin was in the Destin army back home and had told him about the packs and survival gear they had to carry around through the mountains. Sleeping in tents or in the open, sometimes digging caves in the snow. Nothing like that here, he thought. At the end of the day you go home, even if home in this case was a ship orbiting a distant moon, somewhere in the cluster.
All across the room, people were rummaging through footlockers and checking equipment, while getting ready for the mission ahead. The usual jokes and laughter had a nervous edge to them. 'Apprehension of suspect' could mean almost anything at a remote location like this.
'The federal laws are just like gravity', one of the instructors had told them way back in the academy; 'they get weaker the further you get from the source'.
People out here had their own laws and most of the time authorities looked the other way. The death penalty, abandoned by the Federation forty years ago, was not uncommon in the cluster, even though it was filed as accidents in the records. After all, mining is a dangerous business and things happen.
A small capsule of civilization was what the Armitage represented out here in the vast darkness; a small campfire in a looming dark forest where you could hear the wolves howl in the distance. There was no backup out here. Should anything go wrong the closest navy vessel could be days or weeks away. On the other hand you always knew they would turn up eventually and that's all you needed to keep going. Hope and faith lasts a long way. That's why they never left anyone behind; ever.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
3. Wig on the rocks
Several heads turned as Hicks entered the bridge, still desoriented from his nap.
A redhaired attractive woman in her early thirties gave him a quick nod, "Sir, were closing in... Eta about 55 minutes."
"Thanks C".
Cassandra West, or 'C', was a good pilot. Good as any other he had seen. A bit young perhaps, and admittingly, a girly, but still good.
Hicks grunted and took a seat in the large chair at the back of the bridge. It was slightly elevated compared to the rest of the workstations, giving him a nice view of the entire bridge, hopefully making it easier to communicate with the rest of the crew.
He pushed a few buttons on the console to his right and the huge screen at the front of the room lit up. He scrolled through the text he had read several times before, and skimmed down to the last paragraph. Next to the text a photograph showed the face of a young man, tanned and good looking with a short haircut. 'Thats a nice tan', Hicks thought and briefly recollected the pale apparition that stared back at him from the mirror every morning. He read the last paragraph again.
'According to intel the subject, known as Hedron Porter, presently resides in MO-31-FelcIII, orbiting Cassiuz. Locate, subdue if necessary, and bring mr. Porter to the brig on DSS Armitage where Inspector Korz will continue with interrogations. Rendevous with FF Vost for transfer of mr. Porter and insp. Kortz.'
Hicks looked at the picture again. 'I wonder why they send a team of 50 after one man, halfway across the system? A bit expensive, you would think... He must have really pissed someone off.'
He hummed to himself and closed the document. After pushing a few more buttons a large rotating moon suddenly filled the screen. The computer rendered it in shades of grey, with yellow gridlines dividing the surface into smaller sectors.
Felc III, second largest of the moons orbiting the gas giant Cassiuz. The surface was heavily cratered and marked by the volcanic activity going on beneath the surface. A number of mining complexes were marked on the map, but Hicks knew there were several unlicenced ones as well.
The official tradepost, MO-31, and the only place which held any kind of public connection and basic service was inofficially called the 'Squig-nest'; probably due to the fact that under the original four steel domes, the denizens had mined into the ground and through the years built a confusing series of structures and tunnels, well hidden and easy to defend. The files were a bit unclear, but he had a feeling that the subterranean area was much bigger than the one above ground.
He got to his feet and walked over to the right wall, which held a small built in cabinet with what looked like a miniature kitchen. The machine beeped as he pushed a round button and waited for the hot liquid to stop running. He carefully made his way back, since the plastic tops for the cups were out again.
"Damnation!", Hicks cursed as the vessel suddenly jerked sideways. A thunderlike sound propagated through the ship. He tried to balance what wig was left in the cup while the rest of the hot liquid were running down the inside of his jacket. "Rock?", he barked while taking his place.
The bridge were full of people busy at the consoles now, performing their various tasks. The dark haired, middle aged man on his forward left side said, "Yes sir, looks like a rock. Not too big but it caught us from the side at a nasty speed...". "We are running low signature, like ordered sir. I got trouble seeing anything smaller than a ship right now..."
"Allright, thanks Yuri. Any damage Denest?", Hicks turned towards the man sitting on the far right side.
"Hang on, sir!", the man said and continued to scroll through the screens. "Looks like we lost some power in a few subsystems. We lost the secondary communications module and port side cooling went down ten percent or so. I think we may... we probably have a small hull breach, but its hard to tell anything more from this. I'll try to bypass as much as I can get some of the techs to check it up, sir."
"Very well!". Hicks turned and looked at the girl seated at the workstation directly infront of his, "Umi, you may as well inform the crew about what happened and that we are assessing the damage."
She looked back at him and nodded, "Absolutely, sir."
Hicks leaned back in his chair, looking at the wig stains on his jacket and pants.
'I sure hope this day improves', he thought and took the last sip of wig still left in the cup before disposing of it.
A redhaired attractive woman in her early thirties gave him a quick nod, "Sir, were closing in... Eta about 55 minutes."
"Thanks C".
Cassandra West, or 'C', was a good pilot. Good as any other he had seen. A bit young perhaps, and admittingly, a girly, but still good.
Hicks grunted and took a seat in the large chair at the back of the bridge. It was slightly elevated compared to the rest of the workstations, giving him a nice view of the entire bridge, hopefully making it easier to communicate with the rest of the crew.
He pushed a few buttons on the console to his right and the huge screen at the front of the room lit up. He scrolled through the text he had read several times before, and skimmed down to the last paragraph. Next to the text a photograph showed the face of a young man, tanned and good looking with a short haircut. 'Thats a nice tan', Hicks thought and briefly recollected the pale apparition that stared back at him from the mirror every morning. He read the last paragraph again.
'According to intel the subject, known as Hedron Porter, presently resides in MO-31-FelcIII, orbiting Cassiuz. Locate, subdue if necessary, and bring mr. Porter to the brig on DSS Armitage where Inspector Korz will continue with interrogations. Rendevous with FF Vost for transfer of mr. Porter and insp. Kortz.'
Hicks looked at the picture again. 'I wonder why they send a team of 50 after one man, halfway across the system? A bit expensive, you would think... He must have really pissed someone off.'
He hummed to himself and closed the document. After pushing a few more buttons a large rotating moon suddenly filled the screen. The computer rendered it in shades of grey, with yellow gridlines dividing the surface into smaller sectors.
Felc III, second largest of the moons orbiting the gas giant Cassiuz. The surface was heavily cratered and marked by the volcanic activity going on beneath the surface. A number of mining complexes were marked on the map, but Hicks knew there were several unlicenced ones as well.
The official tradepost, MO-31, and the only place which held any kind of public connection and basic service was inofficially called the 'Squig-nest'; probably due to the fact that under the original four steel domes, the denizens had mined into the ground and through the years built a confusing series of structures and tunnels, well hidden and easy to defend. The files were a bit unclear, but he had a feeling that the subterranean area was much bigger than the one above ground.
He got to his feet and walked over to the right wall, which held a small built in cabinet with what looked like a miniature kitchen. The machine beeped as he pushed a round button and waited for the hot liquid to stop running. He carefully made his way back, since the plastic tops for the cups were out again.
"Damnation!", Hicks cursed as the vessel suddenly jerked sideways. A thunderlike sound propagated through the ship. He tried to balance what wig was left in the cup while the rest of the hot liquid were running down the inside of his jacket. "Rock?", he barked while taking his place.
The bridge were full of people busy at the consoles now, performing their various tasks. The dark haired, middle aged man on his forward left side said, "Yes sir, looks like a rock. Not too big but it caught us from the side at a nasty speed...". "We are running low signature, like ordered sir. I got trouble seeing anything smaller than a ship right now..."
"Allright, thanks Yuri. Any damage Denest?", Hicks turned towards the man sitting on the far right side.
"Hang on, sir!", the man said and continued to scroll through the screens. "Looks like we lost some power in a few subsystems. We lost the secondary communications module and port side cooling went down ten percent or so. I think we may... we probably have a small hull breach, but its hard to tell anything more from this. I'll try to bypass as much as I can get some of the techs to check it up, sir."
"Very well!". Hicks turned and looked at the girl seated at the workstation directly infront of his, "Umi, you may as well inform the crew about what happened and that we are assessing the damage."
She looked back at him and nodded, "Absolutely, sir."
Hicks leaned back in his chair, looking at the wig stains on his jacket and pants.
'I sure hope this day improves', he thought and took the last sip of wig still left in the cup before disposing of it.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
2. DSS Armitage
DSS Armitage had been there and back again, many times. She was an old ship, with a history. Within her hull, she held not only computers, engines and cables but the echoes and memories of times past. Her databanks contained conversations, missions and reports from three decades and the memorials of everyone that had served aboard since her virgin voyage.
She was not a pretty ship by any means; big and bulky, with old wounds crudely patched and welded. Once she lay abandoned and burned out, drifting for almost six months before a merchant came across her and called it in.
In all her bulkiness, she had been proved to resist alot of punishment and that counted for more than design when it came down to business. She had been in battle many times, with both smugglers and pirates and done numerous lockdowns of mining fascilities in the clusters.
Her main task was to deliver law and order to remote spots controlled by the federation. In practice she acted directly on order from FedCom, usually concerning suspected smuggling or illegal mining operations in the cluster. Aboard her were a crew of around 50 people, depending on tour and mission. Of those 16 were marines, who had the doubtful task of making high risk insertions and arrests; Not only doing it, but loving it.
She was born in the coldness of space and she would surely die there as well, without ever landing on any of the planets and moons her sensors could see. She could never survive a landing since her hull lacked the sleekness required for atmospheric travel, and would quickly turn into a shooting star should any foolish attempt be made. Instead she had two landers in her hold, that could not only make planetfall but also make it up again; sometimes in a hurry.
Presently she drifted through empty space, closing in on the designated target; a mining outpost located on the small moon Felc-III, deep in the asteroidcluster orbiting Cassandra.
She was not a pretty ship by any means; big and bulky, with old wounds crudely patched and welded. Once she lay abandoned and burned out, drifting for almost six months before a merchant came across her and called it in.
In all her bulkiness, she had been proved to resist alot of punishment and that counted for more than design when it came down to business. She had been in battle many times, with both smugglers and pirates and done numerous lockdowns of mining fascilities in the clusters.
Her main task was to deliver law and order to remote spots controlled by the federation. In practice she acted directly on order from FedCom, usually concerning suspected smuggling or illegal mining operations in the cluster. Aboard her were a crew of around 50 people, depending on tour and mission. Of those 16 were marines, who had the doubtful task of making high risk insertions and arrests; Not only doing it, but loving it.
She was born in the coldness of space and she would surely die there as well, without ever landing on any of the planets and moons her sensors could see. She could never survive a landing since her hull lacked the sleekness required for atmospheric travel, and would quickly turn into a shooting star should any foolish attempt be made. Instead she had two landers in her hold, that could not only make planetfall but also make it up again; sometimes in a hurry.
Presently she drifted through empty space, closing in on the designated target; a mining outpost located on the small moon Felc-III, deep in the asteroidcluster orbiting Cassandra.
Monday, February 12, 2007
1. Rude awakening
That one looks like a dog, Hicks thought, as he lay on his back in the soft grass. The white, fluffy clouds glided gently across the perfectly blue sky, merging and breaking into different forms. Soaring high above, a couple of straw-tails made lazy circles beneath the dog-shaped cloud, as if to tease it. Far off, across the field, a group of children were playing ball, their laughter and joyful shouts like pearls on the wind, as they chased each other back and forth. He stretched out, felt the warmth from the sun caress his body and started to doze off.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he had been near the edge for too long; pushing himself harder, never noticing or allowing himself to feel anything. Now he felt relaxed for the first time in... he couldn't remember. Felt like ages.
"Baby, ten letters... 'sleep help', starts with an 'e'", he heard Nimo say.
He slowly turned his head and opened his eyes to look at her, feeling the familiar sting in his heart as his gaze met her own.
Her hair fell like a curtain of black velvet, framing her eyes as she lay on her stomach with the magazine spread before her. She rested her head on her palms while chewing on the pencil.
"You know you shouldnt eat that; got lead and all kind of stuff in it...", he said while smiling.
She frowned and bit harder, "C'mon now... I'm almost done. Ten letters,” she said, “Help me!”
"Alright, but on one condition!".
She tilted her head slightly, "Oh yeah? And whats that?".
He closed his eyes and pouted his lips.
"Aww... you pirate scum!", she giggled while leaning toward him.
The perfume invaded his senses as her shadow enveloped him.
BEEP! BEEP! "Captain to the bridge!" the speaker blared.
Gasping from surprise, he flew to his feet, nearly hitting his head on the cabinet over the bunk bed. It took a few seconds before he realised he was not in Kazimet park anymore and the disappointment almost took the wind out of him. With a numbing feeling of despair he fell back onto the bed, covered his face and tried to keep hold of the quickly fading images from his dream. The aroma of her perfume, the refreshing sunlight day, the sounds of the children playing nearby...
He sat back on the bed and rubbed his face with his hands. "Damn it!", he muttered while reached for his headset. He pushed a couple of buttons on the headset and headed towards the door, "On my way!"
Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he had been near the edge for too long; pushing himself harder, never noticing or allowing himself to feel anything. Now he felt relaxed for the first time in... he couldn't remember. Felt like ages.
"Baby, ten letters... 'sleep help', starts with an 'e'", he heard Nimo say.
He slowly turned his head and opened his eyes to look at her, feeling the familiar sting in his heart as his gaze met her own.
Her hair fell like a curtain of black velvet, framing her eyes as she lay on her stomach with the magazine spread before her. She rested her head on her palms while chewing on the pencil.
"You know you shouldnt eat that; got lead and all kind of stuff in it...", he said while smiling.
She frowned and bit harder, "C'mon now... I'm almost done. Ten letters,” she said, “Help me!”
"Alright, but on one condition!".
She tilted her head slightly, "Oh yeah? And whats that?".
He closed his eyes and pouted his lips.
"Aww... you pirate scum!", she giggled while leaning toward him.
The perfume invaded his senses as her shadow enveloped him.
BEEP! BEEP! "Captain to the bridge!" the speaker blared.
Gasping from surprise, he flew to his feet, nearly hitting his head on the cabinet over the bunk bed. It took a few seconds before he realised he was not in Kazimet park anymore and the disappointment almost took the wind out of him. With a numbing feeling of despair he fell back onto the bed, covered his face and tried to keep hold of the quickly fading images from his dream. The aroma of her perfume, the refreshing sunlight day, the sounds of the children playing nearby...
He sat back on the bed and rubbed his face with his hands. "Damn it!", he muttered while reached for his headset. He pushed a couple of buttons on the headset and headed towards the door, "On my way!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)