by Mack Meijers
Table of Contents
Coasting
Foreword
Awake
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
About the author
Credits
Coasting
by Mack
published by Mack Meijers, Deserts Of Man.
© Mack Meijers, 2013
Revision II
ISBN: 9781301232161
Smashwords Edition
Foreword
This short story once began as a question, put on the table by a dear departed friend, talking about her father. It's a common question, but one where the answer is often determined more by the conflict between what is inside someone against circumstances and consequences of chance. Is the memory you have of your father trying to impart lessons on you truly an objective one? A conversation followed, and an idea saw a bit of light.
An encounter between ships. One woman, waking up alone. A chance survivor. Her many struggles of trying to stay alive, discovering a fate of dying alone. Reconciling with those left behind, ultimately taking a decision to sidestep her fate. Changing it into a destiny instead.
This short story contains her notes and transcribed recordings. Each record a moment of thought, recollection and consideration.
Don't judge her too harshly, put yourself in her shoes. What would you do, facing what she faces? Knowing what she knows?
The events take place in the fictional universe Of Suns and Spheres.
— Mack
Awake
Mode Record
Is this thing on?
Mode Play.
Is this thing on?
Mode Record
At least something is working. Universe, my head hurts.
End Record
Warfare in space is mathematics. You're just another key on the calculator.
— Masters At Arms Anonymous
Chapter 1
Mode Record
I'm not sure how I survived. At least I know I'm alive now, the past days are hazy at best.
My name is Sofia Taran, civilian consultant on board the Republic Courier Gonzales. As of approximately two days ago, following contact with Corporate ships, we are heavily damaged and adrift. The ship appears barely functional. Power distribution is down. What's left of life support is failing. I have not been able to get anything but static on my Link. The only functions active are record, read, play and identify. Whatever else is going on, that's a sure sign the ship's network is disabled, or worse.
I've never had to identify myself to my own Link, but I guess that is a consequence of systems integration, and disintegration. Maybe I should have spent the money on a standalone device, and not one network dependent.
I suspect the bridge crew has either died or managed to get out in escape pods. For some reason mine did not function as intended. The automated launch system failed. Manual override resulted in a complete power down of the pod. I think I felt vibrations of other pod launches, I can't be sure though - so many sounds of despair.
Anyhow, instead of launching, mine shut down. Before I was able to get out either the ship's artificial gravity systems finally gave up in some form of overload or we were affected by an outside force with the same result. Either way, I passed out. After waking up and extracting myself from the pod in its launch tube I spent the better part of a day crawling and squeezing my way through what used to be the pod bay and maintenance conduits surrounding that section of the ship.
I have not found other survivors as of yet.
Frustrating, not knowing what the deal is. I don't know much of anything at the moment.
I was on my way to the bridge when a contact alert went off. By the time I arrived I was just in time to breathe smoke and hear the evacuation order by the Captain. Whatever came next is a blur. I remember shouting at someone for information, only to be answered with cursing and a mention of Corporate ships. Next, an officer clawing his way to the pod bay next to me as gravity systems were interrupted. Moments later I'm in a pod, systems shut down and everything goes dark. Including me.
I have a splitting headache, a ruined uniform and singed hair. Didn't want that uniform anyway. Otherwise seemingly untouched. Considering circumstances, I better move on. I can hear bulkheads groaning. Not a comforting sound. As much as I want to find out what happened, what the ship's status is and where we are, right now is not the time for that. I need to get out of here, time to prioritise. I need to move. I need gear. A vacuum suit, more ideal would be armour. The way the air tastes, I'm running out of time.
Air should not taste of metal.
Since I survived, others must have. My chances of making it until rescue arrives on my own are less than optimal, to say the least. I need to hook up with other survivors. Not going to be able to search for or help anyone though if I suffocate. Gear first.
End Record
Warfare in space is timing. Living and dying by the clock.
— Masters At Arms Anonymous
Chapter 2
Mode Record
Time to pause. I've seen signs of evacuation, at least partial. The secondary pod bay in the ship's superstructure is empty, mostly intact as well, just empty. Starting to love security doors. Smart part of the ship, built in functions, independent of ship systems in their redundancy. They can tell you what is on the other side. Vacuum for example, radiation, or fire. I can't help but feel trapped, the amount of times I've crawled out of a maintenance duct into a corridor only to find a security door telling me the other side would kill me, too numerous to count already.
I'm not even sure anymore where I came from, sort of. Retracing steps is a nightmare. Finding a way to the bridge is not an option, at least not as far as I can tell, the transport tubes that do work won't let me move in what I think is the direction of the bridge. The way back through a haze of conduits and torn passages is not an option. Too disoriented, and I made it out of two places already where plasma leaks fried the metal underneath.
I found half an Engineer in front of a security door, vacuum beyond it. Saw a woman's hand as well, floating at a corner of a twisted corridor, couldn't help but notice the ring. The finger right in front of it.
One thing I do have to say, I will never again just look through Engineers as they pass by. Bit of respect. If it wasn't for things like security doors, fire suppression systems, colour coding and handle bars on the walls I would be a lot worse off right now.
Most corridors here are either obstructed or cut off. Some parts of the walls are hot, not a good sign. I can see them crying. Overheard some Engineers talk once. Talking about the death of ships. One said that tears of metal are the farewell of a ship that is giving in to joining its dead or dying crew. So like me to remember that now. Point taken though, have to keep moving. I need a vacuum suit. Life support is failing, thinking of radiation gives me the creeps.
Seen plenty crew, dead. Burned bodies floating between scorched walls and shards of metal. Dead ends, security doors at the end of one passage buckled, twisted. Another did not manage to close, beyond it there is only searing heat.
Found a way around it, managed to get down several decks before getting to where I am now. Not that space has such things as up or down, but these little islands we
sail in do. As long as they are fine, we get to keep our convictions of a natural order. When things break down, you lose focus. Orientating is hard without the cosy familiarity of how everything should be.
Everywhere I've been thus far is more of the same. Signs of fire and suppression, blistered walls and torn metal. People. Still alone. Whatever happened must have torn us up extremely quickly, and hard. Ship and crew. Checking time indexes on my Link, looks more like an execution. The Captain can't have had much time for anything other than giving the evacuation order.
The rest, chaos. Wiggling through conduits, pulling ahead like a monkey in a torn metal jungle, disoriented.
Just so tired, pain inside. Breathing is hard. It is getting colder.
End Record
Warfare in space is a race of clocks against each other. Always biding for time.
— Masters At Arms Anonymous
Chapter 3
Mode Record
I've decided to try and make my way towards Engineering. I need to establish communications, if I am to have a chance at finding other survivors - need to get at least a limited network online. Engineering can take over bridge functions as well, I know that much. Feels so much like walking blind without the ship's network or internal sensors. Well, floating.
Recognised people along the way. Jennifer from Flight Operations. Danil and Amanda. At least they were together. Came across one of the Science sections, had to go through it, turned out to be a relief. Empty, quiet but foul air. While power elsewhere fluctuates, this area has gone dark. Irony.
Along the way I found the Hydroponics bay intact. Shaken up, but functional, aside of power distribution issues. The increasing cold is going to kill it soon though.
I managed to work my way through, not to Engineering, at least not yet. I'm too tired. Decided to spend some time at what my dad would call the MFD. Mobile Forces Deck, though more often than not mum would give him one of her famous looks in order to prevent him from following up on it with another interpretation of that abbreviation. My dad, always the soldier, except when mum's looking at him.
Alright, not a soldier. He'd scold me if I called him that, professional pride in servitude, how many times has he not rubbed that in. Master At Arms. Elite of the elite. Tough beyond tough, dumb as a door. Regular, not a security door.
Who am I kidding, right now I'd wish he were here.
Says a lot.
The MFD is empty either way, at least of people. Dead and alive, here's to hoping at least they got out. Guess it fits, Mobile Forces, indeed. Best of all though, I managed to get myself in a vacuum suit only 4 sizes too large, breathing a lot easier now, and I'm no longer freezing.
The starboard flight deck is mostly intact. But empty. No launches, not even a shuttle, which is a bad thing for me but a good sign that people managed to get off the ship. On the bright side, storage there appears intact and there's plenty rations. Boxes and boxes of them, m***** f****** thank you. Suit, stuff and food. Truly stupid amounts of weaponry too, such good that it did.
What came next was not pretty. Port flight deck is mostly there, but not all of it. Looks a lot like the pattern of damage on the other decks so far. Whatever hit us, it appears as if it tore hull segments away from the ship. It's not consistent with inbound explosive or kinetic damage, torn metal leading outward, not crumpled in. The section is mostly open to vacuum, I had to rig a set of security doors forcing a makeshift airlock so I could move on. It's as if something has shredded the hull.
Dad would know what to do, I suppose. Trying to make my way through a set of dead briefing rooms and utility sections. Deck plating is torn, power distribution cables spilling out. The dead appear to be the civilians we were carrying, some uniforms. Guess electrocution and plasma spills are a fast way to go. Not all were that lucky. Glad to be in a vacuum suit.
Took over an hour to complete ID scans. Some were alive still when I woke up. Watching the frozen time indexes on their Links is making me throw up, almost.
Some of them I knew. Dave, another civilian consultant. Merinda, used to beat me at cards. And Catarina, the ship's Chief Engineer, must have been off duty. A lot of rooms are sealed from the inside, corpses outside their doors. Desperation I guess. People in those rooms are just as dead.
The ship's main recreation room was even more full of people, floating, bloodshot eyes and blue lips. If people did get out, it must be mostly limited to regular crew and Mobile Forces types. Does not make sense, MF's would not just leave people behind. That much dad did teach me.
Maybe they didn't know. Ship's network is down after all.
Wherever possible I scan for Link ID's. Briefly thought of giving up on that after getting through the utility sections, decided not to. I know they're dead, but least I can do is make a list. As far as possible. Someone will be able to use it, notifying families, confirming casualties. Filing as a note, they're numbers now.
Aren't we all.
End Record
Warfare in space is always a case of hacking it. Not just lines of code.
— Masters At Arms Anonymous
Chapter 4
Mode Record
Passed through the crew's quarters, found myself talking to the dead. Telling them I knew how they felt right now, losing dreams they came to care about. Telling them there's nothing I can do now here or now.
Just recording their ID's.
I don't like it, but there's nothing left to say.
I'm too late, again. Not even by long. Looks like someone tried to repair local life support systems. Without success. Wish I found someone, to get me through this night. So dark everywhere now, the lights have gone out.
Trying to keep myself going is harder than I would have thought. I've always been stubborn, but this is something else. When I told my parents I was leaving, they were not surprised. Both of them had given up long before that time. Though dad had always hoped I would follow in his footsteps, never letting up on telling me the tales of glory, sacrifice and the needs of the many versus those of the few. What moron ever came up with that, I don't know, but that really is a mathematics of wastefulness. Mum understood him, in her way, she's a nurse. Both have dealt with the dead.
It's not something I ever considered. Theirs was not my life. My life is my own. So I did not join any of the Services, instead I found a way to attend university. Trained myself, in many ways. Just not theirs. The irony of landing in a mess they would face reflexively.
And here I am, choking in the middle of darkness. Only a tiny cone of light shining ahead of where I dare to look, coughing up bile.
Dad never let up telling me about his works. Not his job, or work, his works, as something greater than anything a civilian could ever do. Talking about putting his life in service of others, a shield against whatever may be thrown our way. Showing me his medals, talking about warfare, games of numbers so those at home would never have to play.
Pulling my way through to another port side section on this level there finally was a light again. Pushing ahead I thought it was a light of something better. Instead I found myself looking through a tear in the ship's hull. There's a sun shining bright outside, in the distance. And people out in that light, going nowhere.
Wish I could crawl back into bed. Back home.
Sometimes, in spite of my stubbornness, I would call home from university. Mum would answer and tell me she knew what I needed, to come on home, briefly. Never did, but always knew what she meant. Not home, but making one you can return to. I always was a drifter.
Dad wouldn't have understood. He'd have known what to do though, right here, right now. Always in the moment. That was his secret of life, so he said. Maybe he was right, or at least right under the circumstances of his life. Except now I find mine tossed into a chaos I always chose to avoid.
It's a Courier, damn it. This ship. Fast, agile, built to travel without getting exposed to risk or death.
I'm guessing that mulling things over like this is probably not a go
od thing to do. Can't help it though. Somehow, now that I'm no longer freezing, my situation seems to hit me - harder than before. Guess numbness can have its benefits.
Tuning the suit's visor to blow the tears from my eyes.
End Record
Warfare in space is going from one failure to the next without loss of enthusiasm.
— Masters At Arms Anonymous
Chapter 5
Mode Record
I wonder, when rescue arrives. Will it ever get any better, or will I feel this way the rest of my life. Drifting, but now in the dark.
Got to get a grip. Got to get it together.
Use your reason, dad would say, we pride ourselves on it so use it. Only the animal falls prey to emotion when trapped. I'm doing the best I can, and I know it isn't enough. But I try dad.
I wandered around throughout the ship, at least wherever I could get to. The damage pattern I started to notice back at the MFD remains consistent. The port side of the ship, for lack of a better description got scraped somehow, torn off in pieces. Logistics and manufacturing capability is all but gone, at least on the port side. Couldn't get through on that level to the other side, the security doors signal there's radiation and plasma fires, remaining shut. There might be another way, but I doubt I really want to go there, I've seen what a plasma leak did to Gerald and Avis.
I did get a very faint local network signal at some point though, but no idea in what direction it might be. At least the dead have stopped showing up.
Where I am right now, thus far the most stable of every other part of the ship I have gone through. No power, but there is local life support in most of the storage sections on this level. For how long, I have no idea, but it is something. Some sections on the port side do show signs of buckling, but are otherwise intact and still pressurised, closed them off just in case. Wandering around is not doing me any good, at least not without a purpose other than just collecting frozen Link timers on the dead. This is a place that can give me a starting point, to figure out what I can do, what I must do. Options, possibilities.
