by Mack Meijers
Might also stop my mind from drifting.
I'm not going to run out of food, batteries or spare computer components any time soon. Section after section filled with stasis pods, self contained in a bubble of frozen time. Oblivious to what happened to the ship, and its crew. Once I do find other survivors we should be able to repair at least some systems. Without power, we can't print any components, and the manufacturing section I could reach is gone anyhow.
Dad would undoubtedly find a way to repair and build things from scrap metal, a screwdriver and plastic spoons. Fine, spare parts are it.
The battery packs are very welcome, my suit is still fine but I have been wandering for quite some time now. It can do a lot, amazing piece of technology, but it is not armour. It has its limits. Another reason to turn this place into a bit of a base, will be easier to explore, and quite probably safer as well. Dad would call it an FOB, and grin, Forward Operating Base. He helped me build one once, out in the forest near our home. I was so dirty, genious.
Speaking of which, probably a good thing that I have not met anyone else yet. Opening my suit here made me realise how bad I smell. I never knew anyone could be this gross, almost threw up. I doubt anyone else alive will smell any better though, but finding some way to freshen up would be nice, even if that meant exposing myself further to the cold outside my suit.
Not found a way to do that yet though, I did however make sure to scan the manifests from containers and secure storage. Once I get to Engineering knowing where I can find what I need will be a lot easier that way.
What does bug me out though is that the usual ship's vermin is still around here. The real rats appear to not have left the ship. I mean the internal ecosystem, of course. Guess it comes natural to us, dragging with us that which feeds on what we leave behind. Wherever we are there will and must be various sorts and types of bugs and other creatures. If not to live off dead skin cells we shed, then to deal with critters people unknowingly bring aboard. You'd think ships would be pristine and shining examples of cleanliness? Forget it.
I always wanted my own ship one day. Not as a Captain in any of the Services though. Just my own ship, maybe as a trader. Or transporting wealthy VIP's to exclusive destinations where they would invite me for dinner. Or even just an ore hauler so I could spend weeks and weeks on just coasting through an ever growing pile of books. Just me, master of my ship, and no vermin on board. I'd make damn sure of that, with a hard working crew. And a regular clean up by means of properly venting the ship.
End Record
Warfare in space is strict mechanics, laws of physics and logistics.
— Masters At Arms Anonymous
Chapter 6
Mode Record
I made it to Engineering today. Dodgy trip, had to retrace my path several times over. Should have spared myself the effort, in retrospect.
Main Engineering is, well, just not there. Well it is there, the section, but it is empty. Where the reactor should be there is a gaping hole, a tunnel showing stars at the far end. The control room is empty as well, the crew must have had time to eject the reactor and evacuate, but the place is a total loss. I can't get in, the security door is telling me there are plasma leaks inside, from what I can see it is far beyond me to repair anyway. Molten screens, fried systems.
Maybe if I had paid more attention to what dad tried to teach me when I was young, games of electronics and chemistry. Soldering wires and reprogramming the house cleaning bot to chase mum through the living room. She was never afraid to open up any machinery either, like the blender that one time. Then again I also remember her once taking a hammer to a kitchen appliance, stating she was done repairing it, thus deciding for dad to buy a new one.
I'm on my own here though. And I doubt anyone left on board will be as smart as dad would be under these circumstances. Starting to think he was right on one thing, training matters, not just knowledge. Preparing for what may happen, even though chances are it never will. Most people never wonder about how something works, just whether it works. Binary thinking, we do that a lot. Something is right, or wrong. On, or off. Working, or you're screwed. Bit harsh that, but that is my situation at the moment. At home I could call for help, here all I have is what I know of my environment and its workings. Which is not a lot.
Drifting. Maybe I'm just tired. Well, not exactly tired, but something else, I don't know what. It's not simply fatigue, and it is different from just drifting. Keeping busy at first seemed to focus my mind more, increasingly less though. Crawling through conduits is becoming like an instinct, dodging shards of metal in the dark. Animal instinct or senses adjusting, I don't know.
The ship's capacitors are another total loss, no wonder there is zero power left anywhere. Somehow they must have lost containment. Found plenty Links in that section, bony blobs of gas and liquids floating in between. People once, but not anymore. I was surprised I no longer felt like throwing up, bit ashamed of that as well. Either way, I can't see or think of any way to restore power. Normally the ship's reactor provides a continuous output to the capacitors which feed the ship's systems and store excess output as available. Ingenious system, dad once explained to me when an old comrade of his came to visit the house. A small man with sharp eyes, an Engineer, an odd sight next to my dad towering over him. They had an accord between them which barely needed words. This was when he still tried to tell me all about the wonders of the Services, I wonder if that friend was there not to visit him but to impress something on me. Whatever it was, I missed it. Probably on purpose.
A dead end. Matt was there, or rather his Link. Proud young father, could not cease pestering people with baby pictures. I bet he could have helped me here, the guy was a total nerd. Though he must have been a genius in other ways as well, saw a picture of his wife once. A truly rare beauty, impressive. Speaking of which, Karen is also in one of those halls, she wasn't even on duty I think. Figures, Yorin beside her. She must have come here to talk, knew she had an eye on her.
I couldn't linger though, my suit kicked me out of drifting there, corrosive gasses, so I left and made my way back here. At least I have air, some light and a little bit of warmth. Though that too is fading, I need to find a way to warm things up, the ship is bleeding cold now that it has stopped bleeding crew. Terrible thing to say, but let's face it, chances that I am alone are pretty damn high. And I know what they say, everybody alone in space, dies.
I don't want to die. I just need to think. Not of wants, wishes and hopes. Of dad showing up, or of rescue with hot chocolate. But of things to do, even with limited options.
Going to rest for a while.
More names for my little book of the dead.
End Record
Warfare in space is chasing information, this decides on all.
— Masters At Arms Anonymous
Chapter 7
Mode Record
I remember one of the last discussions I had with mum and dad before I finally stormed out. Both trying to explain the need to make a choice for my life that would give balance to others. Arguments I wouldn't hear, reasoning I did not understand. I just didn't have the mindset to grasp where they were coming from.
To be honest, I just did not care to listen. So all I did was deconstruct their arguments with banality. At one point mum told me I just had to believe her, take her word and make a choice that would not just provide for me, but which also would provide for others. Teachings and training that would help me because of my ability to help others through understanding of the dependencies we face. And here I sit, nobody to save, but if there were I wouldn't know how. Not knowing how, I can't help myself.
Bitter.
Still, I miss them both. I even miss the jerk who made my first year at university hell, right now I would welcome any face. As long as it had eyes that could blink and actually say something for real. Not just in my mind.
Looking back at what could have been serves no purpose though. Limitations? Fine. Problems? Fine. I'll de
al with them. I'll just have to be creative, and careful, in order to make it long enough for rescue to arrive. Engineering was painful, but I will continue to venture out. There are things I need, and above all I need information. So, the next expedition will be to Medical. That is going to be a bit tricky, considering that getting there is quite a long trip under the current conditions. There's plenty things I can use from there, and not just sleeping pills or muscle relaxant spray. And a laxative. One thing I know is that they have equipment which might just come in very handy, like a portable food processor the nurses have there. I'll be able to thaw out food with that, as long as I can find another power conversion cable. Should be feasible. Maybe not practical, moving such a thing around broken corridors, but worthwhile.
I could get stored rations out of stasis, it's just warmth is really nice, in any way or form. There's stocks on the MFD, but also down here according to the cargo manifests. I don't know what they've done to make sure military rations never freeze, kinda creeps me out, thinking of that. I'd just prefer proper food, ideally warm.
Simple priorities.
Air, water, food, power, information. Like the five senses, when Murphy comes to visit you need them all. Even if there are still others, I will be of no use if I cannot take care of myself. Once I sort all that out, I can start venturing out deeper, and plan ahead further.
My suit is a concern though, it will continue to function as long as I can recharge it with the battery packs here, but there are limits. Already I see that it charges more slowly, and less. A point will come where it faces its own end of line. At the MFD there were others, so I can plan a trip there and get spares. Something that would also come in handy if I do find others. Ideal would be finding some armour, that would really solve a lot. A suit can tear, and has other limitations, the more heavily you use it the faster its operating efficiency degrades. Armour, now that's something entirely different. Self-powered, self-healing, diagnostics and other toys like built in scanning and communications gear. Armour can even serve as its own local network node, ideal for operating still functional equipment, finding information and means of communication.
Finding a unit is going to be hard though. I'll either have to find a way through to Manufacturing, and hope for a production batch there. How realistic that is remains to be seen, those security doors stayed shut for a reason. Or I'm going to have to make my way all through the ship to one of the torpedo rooms in the ring. Even though the ship is a Courier, it has that functionality on board. Beats me why, and it is very limited, but any hope of finding armour is probably found right there. It's rare, but that much I do remember, during engagements ships sometimes launch assault units, in armour. The very idea is ludicrous, of course, but well, there's the military for you. A living torpedo with guns.
Still, armour is something I did pay attention to, when dad would bring it out. Rarely, but he did. He built the dam with it, at the river near our house. He cleared a road with it. I'm sure he did other things with it too, out there, fighting. Don't really want to think about that. Dad's been in my situation before, I know that much. One year he was gone, I remember mum crying nearly every day. Every week going into the city to ask the Services Station whether there was news. Dad came back, ultimately.
Took much longer for him to really be back though.
Anyhow, that's an expedition for another time. First things first, and even before I can consider that sort of a trip I need to make sure I get spare suits.
The habitability situation, dad would call it. Prioritise, conserve, invest. And there's a little something I will have to take care of before my next trip. The local air supply system. If that system here fails, there's a problem. And fail it will, if it has to service the entire area. So, time for a bit of work. Close off sections, shut down their local systems and move some others to this area. Makes sense, every section has a local unit, those are part of emergency systems. Not intended to function continuously, and only for limited capacity. The more they have to service, the longer they have to do so, the faster they reach their limits and fail.
I've seen the results of that passing through the crew's quarters, and other places. Not a risk I am going to take. I can't do anything about system failures, but what I can do I will take care of. Decoupling and moving units is going to be hard though, zero gravity can be fun, just never forget everything still has mass, and the same amount of force you need to get something moving is required to stop it moving. Would be a lot easier if I had armour.
Water is not a problem, at least not for the immediate future. Storage tanks contain plenty. Practical challenge, going from ice to water. That food processor would do the trick, alternatively I could use a spare suit to fill up with pieces of ice, and activate it There are easier ways though, one of the cargo manifests speaks of bottled water stocks in stasis. Fancy brand too. Small luxuries right?
One key element is information, and that I sorely lack. For starters I do not know whether the emergency beacon is active or not, whatever hit us, it came fast and hard. Aside of timing issues, going by the extensive damage to the ship there might very well not be a beacon.
Another concern, whatever hit us may come back for us. On the bridge they did shout of Corporate ships, but that does not make much sense. We're not at war. Granted, we're not in civilised space, these are the territories. But still, it is a piece of the puzzle. One piece of that is knowing we were attacked. Something did hit us.
I need to know what happened, cause if there is no active beacon, I should find and activate it. Or perhaps not, if there is a chance of those that hit us coming back to finish matters. I wonder what dad would think of that conundrum. As for communications independent of that kind of paranoia, it all comes down to making a trip to either the bridge or the ship's A.I. core. Still, high chance the bridge is as much of a total loss as Engineering. The core is a safer bet. Alternatively there is the idea of rigging some kind of installation myself, except I haven't got a clue how to accomplish that.
Wouldn't know where to start.
And there is still the thing of that faint network signal my Link received at one point, that too is something I need to follow up on. Another thing for another time though, first things first. So, time to work on the house, as mum would say.
Just one thing, would it really have killed the designers of this ship to plan a toilet in this section?
End Record
Warfare in space is where you meet Murphy. Everybody does at some point.
— Masters At Arms Anonymous
Chapter 8
Mode Record
I woke up shivering, after a long arduous day and a very short night. Or what passes as night, or even sleeping, it's as if I somehow lost time. Waking up badly. One moment I was trying to hook myself to a wall so I could make a short recording after a long day of work, the next I wake up screaming. Still, my Link's time index shows I must have been out for some fourteen hours.
Don't know whether I had dreams or nightmares, it's a total blank. And I'm so damn cold, muscles are cramping, my back hurts and my fingers are killing me. Can't heat the suit any further, I could, but that would kill it faster than I can afford.
I did get a lot of things done though. Not all, but it is something to be proud of. Even made sure to eat, or rather to try and eat. It didn't go down well, but at least it did not come back up. At one point I could no longer continue working on things here though, my energy was just completely drained. Took several hours until I could pick myself up again. Just not feeling well, but I suppose that is to be expected under these circumstances. Fatigue, adrenaline, hitting my head. Seeing dead people. In a way my brain has gone numb again, in sharp contrast to the rest of my insides.
I'm probably feeling colder than it really is. I'm not used to it, and I am certainly not used to forcing myself this way. Exercise I normally get is telling people what to do. Which can be tiresome in ways I would very much prefer right now.
I don't doubt dad would s
hrug it off though, the cold. One vacation he came up and took us camping up in the mountains in the north. It was fun, hiking and pitching our tents. Chasing butterflies, watching deer and observing a small group of hominids. Until the snow set in. That's where dad became a ball of energy, he loved it. Mum did her best, I didn't even try. So cold. Knowing better now only makes it worse.
Real problem is that I catch myself doing nothing at times, just floating, wondering if all of this is really happening. I think I sometimes talk to myself during such moments. I remember reading something once about survivors, their guilt, and post traumatic stress. I'm just tired, but I know it's all going to sink in at some point. Maybe it already did. Who knows, not like I can ask someone else here.
I fell asleep twice more after that first time. I better find and stick to a rhythm, I can't risk sliding and ending up making mistakes out of sleep deprivation. It doesn't matter what time it is, not anymore, there is only the dark. It does matter what I do with my time, and how I plan it.
On the bright side, in total I have slept long enough, so that is good. I will however have to go over everything again to make sure I did not screw something up yesterday. I don't think I was doing that well, and I really can't take any risks.
I feel like hot chocolate, cream or no cream. Nutrient gel it is, after that, time to get to work.
End Record
Warfare in space is a game of numbers, nothing human on the board, right?
