Destiny Lost: A Military Science Fiction Space Opera Epic: Aeon 14 (The Orion War)
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Following her pilot onto the ship, Sera’s internal AI flashed a notification that they had made a secure connection to the ship’s private net. Sera checked the ship’s general status and greeted its AI.
Sabrina had been in a strange mood as of late. Sera chose to ignore the reply and smiled up at the nearest observation camera as Helen passed her authentication token to the bridge’s net. Sera checked in, finding Cargo already working on departure paperwork; he must have decided to skip the shower.
<0900 ship time tomorrow.> His mental tone was relaxed. He enjoyed the little details of running the ship. Sera preferred to sit in her Captain’s chair and give orders.
She could imagine him flipping through the plas sheets, checking them against the records logged in their databases, before he answered. Cargo hated making mistakes.
Cargo muttered something rude and the bridge’s net flashed with an image of Cargo’s avatar doing something very unpleasant to a representation of Kade.
The regular drop point was an out of the way FTL jump point that Kade’s people used for trading with other ships—his people being a pirate organization known as The Mark. Most of their people and ships were somewhat less than welcome at the more reputable stations, such as Coburn.
Sera told Cargo she’d be making the rounds and passed the active monitoring of the bridge’s net to Helen.
When Sabrina had been a private yacht, the main deck was where the owners presumably threw their parties and spent most of their time. Now it was the freight deck. The cargo hatch was on the port side, and from there Sera walked into the main corridor, which ran from the bow to the stern engine shielding. The various freight holds were located off this corridor. Some had normal air and gravity, some were refrigerated and some had low, or even no gravity.
Also along the corridor were the lifts and ladders to the other decks. Sera walked toward the bow of the ship and slid into one of the vertical ladder shafts, which ran through all the decks. From there, she opened an access hatch to a maintenance tube. Inside the hatch were some knee and shoulder pads that she slipped on; it wouldn’t do to scuff her leather.
The tube ended in a sealed inspection port. Sera opened it and peered out at the newly installed sensor equipment. The workmanship looked good. Everything was straight and attached firmly. The exterior indicators all showed green.
Beyond the array, Sera could see the space elevator that carried cargo and people between the surface and the station. Seeing it reminded her how far humanity had fallen from the glory it once held.
Millennia ago, when humanity had first set out to cross the stars, they had no faster than light technology. Interstellar travel was made possible only by utilizing massive fuel scoops. Ships had vast electrostatic funnels that spread for kilometers in front of them and allowed the gathering and compression of interstellar heavy hydrogen. The hydrogen, typically Deuterium and Tritium, was burned in nuclear fusion reactors to produce the thrust that pushed the ships between the stars.
Journeys between the stars took decades, or even centuries.
With the considerable effort and expense required to get to even the nearest stars, humanity strove to make the most of all available resources. Technology and engineering made impressive advances as societies demanded better use of raw materials.
The space elevator stretching from Coburn Station down to Trio was an example of the different sort of technology humans used to have. In present times, few worlds could afford to build elevators to their space stations. The materials were just too expensive and the process took too long. A ship’s grav drive was more efficient in the short term. However, over centuries of use, the elevator would use much less power to achieve the same volume of transport. It was another example of the long-term approach that people used to take as opposed to the current mindset, which was decidedly shortsighted.
It was a shift created by the advent of FTL.
People had always suspected—at least once the significance of 299,792,458 meters per second was known—that some method of exceeding the speed of light was possible. Many theories of wormholes, space-time folding, alternate realities, and slipstreams were put forward and attempted. In the end, the workable form of faster than light travel encapsulated many of the ideas behind some of those theories, though it turned out to be much harder to harness than originally hoped.
Before FTL, each star system was isolated from the rest of humanity, but once a trip between two stars was reduced to a matter of weeks and not centuries, everything changed. Traveling to an uninhabited star to mine asteroids was something that could be easily achieved, and people’s attitude toward conservation and efficiency disappeared within a century.
Helen injected a long yawn into Sera’s thoughts.
Helen didn’t agree.
Helen didn’t respond. It was an old conversation, one they performed out of habit more than a real expectation of change.
She walked through the freight deck’s main corridor, poking her head into various holds, ensuring that everything was secure and ready for departure. The familiar smell of deck cleaner and oil wafted past and an unbidden memory of her first weeks on the ship came back.
She and Flaherty had spent many a day hauling equipment through these halls and shafts back when they were first refitting Sabrina. It had been long days and longer nights, but she was proud of what they had built.
Helen flashed the date of her memory over her vision and she was surprised to see that it had been just over ten years ago. Somewhere in the last few months, she had passed her ten-year anniversary with Sabrina without marking the occasion. No wonder the ship had been a bit snippy of late.
Sera chided Helen for not reminding her of the occasion, nor for cluing her in on the cause of Sabrina’s poor temper.
Helen was unrepentant.
Helen inserted the emotion of mild surprise, followed by a pout into Sera’s mind.
Sera laughed and her avatar stuck her tongue out at Helen.
Helen didn’t respond, and Sera let out a long sigh. For being one of the most advanced AI in the Inner Stars, Helen could certainly be childish.
Helen retorted.
rity in their relationship.
She completed her review of the freight deck and took the aft ladder shaft up to the crew deck.
When she first bought Sabrina, the ship had lifts for reaching each deck, but Sera had removed all but one of the conveniences. Shafts were faster and still worked when the ship was under fire and conserving energy.
Sera smiled to herself as she stepped onto the crew deck.
The ladder was across from the galley and she stepped in to find Thompson and Flaherty eating their supper. She saw that it was nearing the end of second shift; most of the crew would be calling it a night soon.
“Evening, Captain,” Thompson said around a mouthful of his sandwich. Flaherty looked at her, nodded, and went back to his meal.
“Hey guys,” Sera smiled at them as she poured a cup of coffee and hunted for fresh cream.
Thompson and Flaherty made an effective and efficient team when it came to managing the ship’s cargo. Neither of them talked much and managed to communicate just about everything with grunts and gestures. They didn’t even use the Link to talk—Sera had checked the logs.
Sera doctored her coffee up just the way she liked and bid them goodnight before taking the corridor to the bow, then climbing the ladder that led to the top deck. This was the smallest deck on the ship, containing only the bridge forward and a small observation lounge aft. The lounge had a magnificent view of the light flare from the engines when they were under heavy thrust, and Sera had often sat back there, gazing out at it as the ship cruised through space.
Cargo was still on the bridge, readying the reports Sera had to sign before they could depart. Cheeky was also at her console, having added a tight halter top and tiny skirt to her ensemble. She yawned and stretched as she stood.
“You just had to make a final course alteration right before bed,” she complained. “I had to plot it out and re-file with system traffic control.”
“Sorry about that, I didn’t think you’d already filed the report,” Sera apologized.
“When else was I going to do it, when I was sleeping?”
Cargo laughed. “I thought you had gotten all of your ‘sleeping’ in on your shore leave.”
Cheeky stuck her tongue out at the man. “Jealous.”
Cargo couldn’t help it as his eyes strayed down to the bold, black print across Cheeky’s chest. It read ‘Got Milk?’ He sighed wistfully. “I might be.”
“Really?” Cheeky asked.
“No, not really,” Cargo grinned.
“You’re such a tease,” Cheeky said as she turned and left the bridge.
“I’m a tease?” He murmured softly as she left.
“You are, you know,” Sera said.
“How so? I don’t flirt, I just do my job.”
“Exactly!” Sera smiled as she shuffled the plas she had to sign into order. “You’re totally unflappable. It’s the ultimate come-on.”
“I’m going to start the pre-warm-up checklist so things’ll be ready in the morning.”
“See! Always back to business with you.”
“Do you want to do it?” Cargo turned, half rising out of his chair.
“Heck no, I’ve been up for thirty hours already.”
Cargo nodded and sat back down.
Coburn, like many stations, required a full warm-up and test of all ship systems before undocking. The warm-up had to take place four hours before departure and Cargo was taking the third watch to run the sequence at 0500 hours.
She turned to leave the bridge when Nance, the ship’s bio, appeared in her mind.
Even though she was looking at Nance’s mental avatar, the bio-engineer still wore a thick, tight hazsuit. Whereas Cheeky showed every inch of skin she could manage, Nance was the opposite, rarely showing any skin at all—even virtually.
The bio scowled.
Nance’s avatar nodded sullenly and Sera laughed.
Nance nodded.
Nance disappeared from her vision as Sera slid down the ladder to the third deck. She walked quietly past the crew cabin doors to her quarters at the end of the corridor. She palmed the door open with a yawn and entered her outer office where she handled the ship’s business.
It was the standard utilitarian sort expected of a captain; her various certifications hung on the wall and a large oak desk dominated the small space. She laid the departure plas sheets on its surface and pulled up holo of each one. This was the part about captaining a starship she liked least. She was near finishing up and getting ready to peel off her leather when Cargo called her over the Link.
Despite his words, Cargo’s tone didn’t carry any apology.
Grumbling that she should have told Thompson to have himself or Flaherty wait up for it, she pulled her jacket back on and slid down the ladders to the freight deck. At the hold’s opening to the station dock, two men were waiting with a large crate on a gravity pad. They were looking nervous and just a bit twitchy. Either they had some bad drugs in their systems or Kade was foisting something pretty damn dangerous on her.
One of the men spoke up as soon as he spotted her.
“Permission to come aboard?” he asked.
Sera granted it and the two men all but ran onto the ship and moved out of direct sight from dock traffic, the cargo container following them on its float.
“So, what does The Mark have for me today, boys?” Sera asked, none too pleased about the late hour or the obviously illegal contents of the crate. “What am I sticking my neck out for this time?”
Most cargo The Mark had her run was just semi-illegal. Either OK in the system where she was picking up or delivering to, just not both; or some stopping point along the way. There also had been the odd shipment that was illegal no matter where they were; this one had that feel.
The man who had asked permission to board grinned in what he probably thought was a winning fashion. It really wasn’t. “S’nothing to worry about, just a little something that Kade wants.”
“I don’t care about that,” Sera said as she reached over and snatched the bill of lading from him. “I care what this says it is.” Scanning the pad, she found that the crate purported to contain a prize-racing hound in a holo sim. The dog thought he was in a regular kennel with other dogs for companionship and humans feeding him. The reality was just a crate with a feeding system, but he wouldn’t know the difference and would be better for it.
“That really what’s in the
re?” Sera didn’t bother to hide her skepticism.
“Yeah, the dog’s not as special as who used to own it.” The man grinned again and Sera held up her hand.
“Yeah, sure. I really don’t want to know more.” She signed off on the delivery. “Any need to open it and check it out?”
The men went rigid and hastily assured her that the dog would be fine and there was no need to check it out. That clinched it for Sera, she would definitely have to check this cargo out once she was underway. If it had any type of tamper seal, she’d make up some excuse for it later.
Once it was secured in the fore port hold, she informed Cargo that the delivery had been made and stowed. Then she closed the main cargo hatch and the auxiliary personnel port. Cargo confirmed the seal from the bridge and checked it off the pre-warm-up list.
JUST A ROUTINE DAY
STELLAR DATE: 07.01.8927 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Sabrina, Coburn Station, Trio
REGION: Trio System, Silstrand Alliance Space
At 0600 hours, Sera sauntered onto the bridge and greeted Cargo, who was hunched over his console, finishing up departure plaswork. She handed him one of the two coffee cups she carried and he absently took it, thanked her, and cast her an appraising look.
“Forgoing the customary clothing-matches-your-mood policy?” he asked.
“I never break my clothing-mood policy. I’m feeling good, but mellow. Blue fits.”
Cargo eyed her with suspicion. “This isn’t like that one time you wore pink to fake us out, is it?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? That was a dare from Cheeky.” Sera set her coffee down and eased into her chair. “Checks went OK?”
“Sabrina purred like a kitten, just like always,” Cargo replied.
“Never, my dear,” Sera replied with a smile.
Cargo shook his head and swallowed his coffee in two quick gulps. “Tug is scheduled for 0845, I’m getting sack.” He stood and left the bridge without even his customary morning stretch.