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Fifty-Three More Things To Do In Zero-Gravity

Kotep

Kotep

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Jan 14, 2009
A cloud of air billowed out around the side of the ship, rushing out of the fist-sized hole in the hull just above the oxygen reservoir. A friendly message popped up on the holographic screen, warning that there was a potential malfunction of the oxygen systems, and that life support would be disabled in two minutes. The pilot of the ship cursed lightly, scrambling around in her seat and tearing the portable oxygen tank from its place in the wall of the cockpit.

'Warning: Main and secondary thrusters offline,' chimed the computer's sterile, vaguely female voice. No thrusters meant no moving. It didn't matter that the battle was won if she couldn't live to tell the tale. There was one chance, though. She climbed out of her seat and ran back into the engine room. She still had her retro-rockets, and even if they were slow they could still get her somewhere.

After a few minutes of makeshift electrical wiring and reprogramming, she climbed back to the cockpit, flopping down into the chair and speaking through the mask that provided her oxygen.

"Set me on a course for the nearest space station. How long will it take?"
'Ten hours,' the computer responded.
"And how much oxygen do we have left?"
'Ten hours' worth in the auxiliary tanks.'

She could make it, but it would be close. Ten and a half hours later, the sleek red-and-black speeder ship was sluggishly approaching the small station, with its pilot tiredly slumped back in her chair. She had to take deep breaths to keep herself moving. Without life support, and with the retro-rockets on for so long, the cabin was growing uncomfortably warm. With a snort, her head lifted up and she opened up a communications channel.

"This's...ugh...Captain Zelett requh--requesting permission to dock," she said through her dry tongue and panting breaths. She was dying for a breath of cool, rich air, even if it was recycled space station stuff.
 
The approach radar went off five minutes before the message to request docking came in. It was typical. The radar was meant to give a warning on slower days. Most days were slow on this station though. It was a small refueling point for Aarcas, a fuel company. Basically, the operators had to live up there for a month, then got a month off before starting the cycle all over again. It was a stupid system, but few complained. It was needed. Though the scheduling could have been worked better. Maybe if they just built a larger platform out in this place they could have a mini-city and people could work normal "9-5" sort of hours.

Isabella Remmington was the dock operator and head of repairs on the station. That didn't mean she was some sort of uber-fixer, it just meant she was competent enough to deal with the average breakdown. Larger or more problematic breakdowns needed a call-in.

"This is Aarcas VII, you are clear for landing, over." Her voice was silky smooth with just the tiniest edge of electronics in it. She was a cyborg, so she interfaced with electronics regularly. Kept her from using a microphone, allowed her to diagnose computer failures, and all sorts of other nifty things.
 
Captain Zelett switched the controls to manual, then reached into the screen to manipulate the virtual controls for the ship. If it tried to land itself with the retro-rockets, it would have likely blown a hole in the floor of the hangar. Not as if the tired, increasingly dizzy pilot could do a whole lot better. With a jerky, rough, and slow motion, she nosed the ship into the hangar and brought it to a rest on the floor, leaving only a few scorch marks.

Once the airlock was closed and the room was re-pressurized, the hatch on the plane's underbelly burst open and she came out, gripping the railing and taking deep, thankful breaths of air. Now, she had to find someone to fix her ship before it fell apart.
 
Isabella got out of the control center when the ship practically wrecked into the docking zone. As she rushed, she was pissed because the person hadn't set up a distress call. They just asked permission to dock. Still, when she rushed out, she took the woman's arm and put it over her shoulders, keeping her propped up.

"Geeze... What the hell happened out there?"
 
Zellett chuckled softly as the cyborg rushed out to help her down. She didn't want to seem like she needed the help. Despite her cool demeanor, the emergency run to the space station had drained her.

"Ran into some mercenaries that didn't like me very much. Something about an old job I'd done. Before I can even ready my weapons they start shooting at me. They did a real number on my ship, but I got the last laugh. I'm here, after all," she said with a wink, sitting down against the wall. "Think you can fix up my ship?"
 
"I think we need you fixed before I do anything with that ship of yours..." She growled lightly as her artificial muscles kept the pressure on her body even and near effortless as she pulled the woman along with her towards the infirmary. "You look like you're not hurt. Probably oxygen deprivation, depressurization, or a temperature leak... Which means you got here just in time no matter which is the case."
 
"I don't have a case of the sniffles, and you're not my mother." She was still taking deep breaths, trying to cool herself down after sitting in the hot cabin for so long. She was already feeling more awake after having had time to breathe fresh air. She was more concerned about her ship than about herself. "Don't worry about me. I want to know how soon my ship will be ready to fly again."
 
"I just want to make sure you're okay first. Doesn't do to have a ship with no pilot. I'll assess it while you get some rest." When they got to the infirmary, nobody was there. The nurse had to be called over. She'd be over in maybe a maybe half a day though. They didn't even station people to take care of medical needs. Everyone just got basic first aid. "Now lay down and get some rest."
 
"I'm telling you, I don't need any rest," she said obstinately, refusing to lie down on the bed in the infirmary. Instead, she sat down, giving her a firm look. She looked ready to stand up as soon as she turned her back. "If you're so worried, I'll sit here, but you come back and tell me as soon as you figure out how long it'll be before my ship flies again."
 
"A day or two at least. Get your rest." She turned her back. "You used auxillary boosters to get here. There's likely electrical damage. Which means I have to dig around in the ship until I find the problem wiring. You've got time."
 
"Wonderful. I was looking forward for some vacation time after this," she said, her voice tinged with sarcasm. It wouldn't have been so bad if this wasn't some tiny space station in the middle of nowhere. She had been out in the middle of nowhere to begin with though; she didn't have much choice. "Then tell me when the life support starts working again."
 
"That'll be the last thing I fix." She walked out, sighing as she realized that the pilot was as stubborn as any of the other pilots. Always wanting to get back in space to fly around and wreck themselves again. She'd thought a female pilot would be more sensible.
 
Zellett gave a soft sigh, feeling her body slowly giving up. She slumped down onto the mattress, falling asleep just as soon as her head pressed against the soft, plush fabric. She slept soundly in that position, arms stretched out along the bed, laying cross-wise on the bed with her feet still on the floor, her mouth hanging open just a little.
 
Isabella went to the craft and started interfacing with the main computer. It was a miracle the woman made it there at all. More than just life support and engines had gotten friend out. So much so that they would be needing to call in parts. So the ship was left in a dismantled mess as the woman took down the parts that were needed.
 
Somewhere around nine hours later, Zellett woke up, immediately thirsty. After wetting her dry mouth, she left the infirmary and followed the path that she had taken with Isabella to get there. She found her way back to the hangar where her ship was, slipping inside to see what the diagnosis was. "Just how much of my ship is still working?" she asked out loud, looking at the assorted parts strewn out on the ground.
 
"There are still weapon systems. That's about it." She waited in her control center. "Parts won't even be here for a week. You got time to relax." Isabella had her eyes closed, a cord plugged into the back of her right ear. "Life support, thrust control, right side directional thrusters, are all fried beyond repair without the new parts. And your cargo hold also has a leak."
 
"Well, fuck," she grumbled, looking up at her ship as if it was to blame for no longer working. The most optimistic thing she could think was that at least her ship would be in full working order...after at least a week of sitting around and doing nothing. "So does anything happen here, or am I really out in the middle of nowhere?"
 
"Nowhere..." She yawned lightly, bobbing her head lightly. Music was streaming right into her head. Being a cyborg definitely had it's perks. No annoying guys hit on her because of her obvious changes. She got to operate computers at the speed of electronic information. And she didn't have to work out.
 
"Of course, ship gets stranded on the station that has nothing to do. So what do you do for fun? Or are you the 'work all day' sort?" she asked, leaning against the side of her ship while she talked to her. She wasn't hard to look at, but it wasn't common to see someone with such prominently synthetic components. Most wanted to keep them hidden.
 
"Work? Heck no..." She grinned as she was plugged into the computer system. "I get to stay connected to everything and everyone. I take advantage of my unlimited access to the galactic net system." Leaning back a little more, she sighed and got a bit more comfortable.
 
Zellet scoffed lightly, shaking her head. "Not everyone's got a metal brain like you. Organic people like me can't just pop into the net." She folded her arms, looking down at Isabella. "You'd better be working really hard on fixing my ship if you can take the time to get comfortable like that."
 
"Can't fix nothin' without parts, girly." She simply yawned and relaxed a little more. "Look, you're stuck on this station till the parts come in, then I'm still gonna need a day or two to get everything installed. Then there's testing and double checking before we let you into the cockpit again."
 
"So what am I supposed to do for two days? Just sit on my ass in front of my plane and polish my gun?" She put her face in her hands and gave a protracted groan. "Okay, sorry. Do you at least have a computer connected to the net somewhere I could use? I have some messages to send to a few of my clients." Like asking why the hell she ran into a whole fleet of mercenary ships on a simple delivery mission.
 
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