A new short story made especially for you. This one is an exercise in freewriting and using the ''seat-of-the-pants'' style. That means I will be doing little revision and have nothing planned out further than whatever is in each part. In other words, I have no idea how long this story will be either, nor how it will end.
Enjoy! (And leave me a comment :-) )
It felt like only a few hours had passed since Franka had put down her head on the pillow after another bullshit-filled shift when the alarm blared.
''Goddamn drills'' she muffled under her breath while wiping the sleep from her eyes. The Captain had been running regular security drills. ''Space is a dark place, but this sector is about as pitch-black as they come,'' he had said. What he meant to say was that this part of space was rather pirate-infested. The Garun Syndicate was not much more than a marauding group of pirates and were known for some very dirty tactics to take what they pleased. The Captain's answer to that was to plough on the drills. Franka often wondered how one can exactly prepare to defend oneself from a small armada of heavily armed boarding ships dropping in from behind a moon in this patch of space devoid of any major star. It was like trying to swat a fly in the dark, except the fly has modular plasma guns and you won't see the discharge until it hits your eyeballs. The ShipSec team usually did a pretty good job though. Not too many people died. The drills' only saving grace, however, was that they would often come on the most opportune moments, such as in the middle of Franka's shift. All she had to do was hole up in the engineer emergency chamber and let the security people handle it.
Right now though, she wasn't too pleased.
''Every department head is to report to the Captain's ready room on the double. Everyone else is to follow standard security protocol.''
''Well, that's unusual,'' Franka thought.
She got up, splashed her face with some water, took a fresh uniform from the printer, pulled on her old boots (3D printers cannot print boots that have been worn in) and made her way to the Captain's ready room.
On her way there, Franka noticed people walking to their security rooms. Under normal circumstances, they would be running. A chill went up Franka's spine. An alarm went off, but no one was afraid. ''What's this, a picnic?'' she thought. Anger was a useful coping tool for Franka, given that most of the time, it was cold, dead machines who were the objects of her affection.
''Reign it in Fran, the Cap'n don't like that nonsense,'' she thought to herself. A few minutes later, she found her way to the ready room and announced herself via the screen on the side. A short handscan later and the door swished open.
''Head Engineer Botelli, thank you for joining us.'' The sardonic grin felt so fake to Franka, it could probably be scraped off the Captain's face. She would blame being last, again, on the fact that her bunk was about as far removed from the Ready room as possible, but she just filed in, in silence and with a nod.
''Now that we're all here, let me get to the point. About two hours ago, we've spotted a single vessel on long-range sensors, about 1.5 AU away from us at the current moment.''
''The Garun Syndicate, sir?'' It was Koshkovski. the head of ship security. Franka would bet that he was called up out of bed as well. His usually tightly bunned hair fell loosely on his shoulders and she was willing that was stubble on his chin. ''Slacking off ey, Sasha?'' she thought to herself.
''No,'' the Captain said.
Though Franka knew that attacking with a single ship was not Garun's MO, nor were they stupid enough to be caught on sensors so far out, the answer still surprised her. There was nothing else out here. No stars, stations or anything of use. No asteroid belt to mine, no planets to discover. It was dead space, bereft of light, its only redeeming factor being the quickest route between some of the busiest spaceports this side of Vega III. Freighters would often just take the chance, yet would also take on paid security. This Captain wanted to save moolah, so he just ordered Franka to have the engine fly as dark as possible. She obliged since the pay was good. Finding anyone but the Garun out here though, was a big surprise.
''We don't know who they are.'' the Captain continued after a short silence. ''They're not responding to any hails and we do not recognize their drive signature nor their ship's superstructure. In fact, we don't see anything we recognize.''
''Could it be experimental then, Sir? Out of Bethesda perhaps?'' Koshkovski asked.
''Doubtful. Botelli,'' the Captain said, turning to her, ''how big is the biggest ship you've heard of?''
A warm burst erupted in Franka's chest. Public speaking might be a bigger fear for her than being sucked into space after a drive implosion. Fewer unexpected factors to deal with. Fewer humans.
''Eeeh, please excuse me for not having the absolute latest on this,'' she stammered, ''but the latest I heard on that was of a hunk of metal of about 1200 meters coming out of Cheraya. A freighter, Sir, with a triple hull and packed with defensive measures.'' A bit nervous, she added; ''Nanotech. Very cool.''
She could hear someone snicker, two people down. ''Probably Xin Ya, that clown,'' Franka thought.
''And the largest station you know of?'' the Captain continued.
''Maybe 8 to 10 kilometers at maximum length, including the sensor arrays. And that's towards Sol system, not anywhere out here.''
The Captain seemed to mull that one over for couple of seconds, then stated matter-of-fact; ''According to readings, this ship is almost forty kilometres long.''
Dead silence filled the room as the realization of this fact dawned in on everyone present. The Captain let it sit for a couple of seconds before speaking again.
''This effectively means that this cannot be human-made. It's not a station, since, by all accounts, it has a method of propulsion, though it does not seem to have been used for a long time. It seems to be drifting. The lights don't even seem the on.''
''It's dead sir?'' Xin Ya, the chemical propulsion expert, asked that question, almost swallowing the second word like it was forbidden. Franka never considered her fit for her job. She seemed childish in most of her behaviour, not least due to the fact she was barely out of diapers. At least, that was Franka's totally unbiased opinion. The Captain had assured her she was the best, the brightest. Still, having her deal with highly volatile drive fluid on the regular gave Franka the creeps.
''By all accounts, yes. It might be a couple of years old, it might very well be a couple of centuries old. We don't know. But we are going to find out.''
Another silence settled. Learning that humanity might not actually be alone in the universe was one thing, actually visiting one was something else entirely.
''We must have protocols for this right?'' Franka thought.
Like he was reading her mind, the Captain noted everyone not to worry. They were going to do this by the books. They're buried deep in all the legal lingo no one ever cares to read through, he did add.
''But make no mistake,'' he continued, ''it is our responsibility to make the first contact. We tried and failed at hailing them. Step two is using a drone. That one was sent out about 30 minutes ago and should arrive at the ship very soon. This drone is to enter the ship by any means necessary and identify the state of the ship, check for pathogens and any signs of life, friendly and otherwise. If that fails to make any contact, we are left with the last option. In case it gets to that, I will need volunteers.''
The tension in the room could be cut with a knife.
The Captain shifted his weight and once more turned to Franka.
''Botelli, you're on top of the list.''
All eyes turned to Franka.
''Seems that just cleared my Tuesday schedule'' was the thought that scattered through her brain.
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