Here's a bit of something I've been working on the last few days.
***
When the cargo crane locked into place and Cynthia saw the suited worker give a thumbs up, she didn't so much as smile as frown less. One less thing to worry about.
As jobs went, this one went as smooth as anybody could want. A simple FedEx type mission from Luna to Ceres, ferrying several loads of light industrial equipment over the period of a day. The pay was decent, they'd made good time, and offloaded ahead of schedule without any problems. All and all a nice little W in the monthly budget. Any spacer would be satisfied with a good days work.
Cynthia wasn't a spacer.
Giving a slight sigh, she eased herself into a cat vomit yellow upholstered chair that gave an 'ooof' of exhaled air and began typing at one of four computer stations on the 'bridge'. Bridge would be a polite term, but it was little more then an L shaped room with large windows in the tower that faced out over the deck and had a pair of desks built into the walls. Each of these desks had a pair of flat screen monitors that each were connected to PC towers hidden inside the desks. All of which were much nicer than anything in that room deserved to be. Callisto? she said, apparently to nobody since 'bridge' was empty save for her.
One of monitors flickered to life, and the round face of a young woman with unnaturally bright blue eyes and hair to match appeared, blinking owlishly.
Yes Cynthia, what is it? I was running a defrag, Callisto's voice, clearly annoyed at having been bothered, came from a pair of speakers embedded in the ceiling.
Cynthia bit back another sigh. Sorry Callisto, but Dad just finished buttoning up. Could you send this message to Ishimura Heavy Industries confirming we delivered the drills?
Ok. Anything else, her tone being there had better not be.
Would you connect me with somebody at Unlimited Sky Ltd.? Cynthia gave her keyboard a few final taps and the messages dissolved off screen, replaced by a cartoony icon of a winking Callisto with a pink word bubble that said 'Mail has be sent.' She took a sip from her coffee mug, and gave another not smile of satisfaction. One thing about the Captain, like any self-respecting person from the Puget Sound region, he knew his coffee.
Hold on. Callisto disappeared, replaced by a screen saver, which today seemed to be of pictures of the Sun through different filters from the SOHO satellite. After a few seconds, Callisto's voice but not her image returned.Ok, putting you through.
Filtered cyan blue star dissolved, leaving a dirty young man in his late twenties, wearing coveralls and welding goggles on his forehead. He seem vaguely startled to be talking to anybody. Howdy! I'm Dave, I'm crew manager for Blue Shift here on Free Sky Station Alpha. Um, something you needed? We're kinda busy. Mining and all. He made a few imaginary mining pick swings in the air.
Cynthia blinked once, resisted the urge to roll her eyes for the fifth time that day and forged ahead. Yeah, this is Cynthia Gunderson, I'm first mate of the Inelegant Truth. I thought I was being put through to James Leland.
Who?
James Leland. You know, guy who runs the place.
Oh, you mean The Noodle. He can't come to the phone right now, I think he's in tunnel nine. Or maybe six. Or Phobos. Dave adjusted his goggles in thought. No, probably nine. Why didn't you just call Bernie, his secretary.
I would have, but I got transferred here. I'm just trying to tell somebody that the last of the drills is offloaded and we're ready to disembark.
Oh sweet! The drills are here. There those new pneumatic ones from Japan, right? Oh, awesome! Colax and I have been feeding this bucket of wave laser pointers for weeks now! It's gonna be so friggin' cool. I think we can actually some decent results fro-
That's great! she said, making a desperate bid to keep the conversation from spiraling any farther into the black hole it already had. Could you transfer me to Bernie's line? My comm been buggy lately.
Oh. Oh yeah, sure! Dave covered his disappointment over losing yet another opportunity to talk about drills with somebody new poorly. Transferring in just a sec.
Thank you. The screen flickered, briefly showing a cartoon picture of a man standing on an asteroid in a duster with a mining hat stomping on the fingers of a bunch of suit clad arms trying to grab hold. After seeing this image painted on every hatch, bulkhead, and flat stretch of rock within a kilometer of the Truth, Cynthia instantly recognized this as the corporate icon of Unlimited Sky Ltd. That images turned into another man in dirty coveralls, this time balding and in his forties. He looked grumpy. What is it now Dave. I swear, if you are on about lasers and drills again and not opening up that auxiliary shaft like I told you an hour ago, I will end you.
Cynthia stared at the screen, nonplussed. Um, this isn't Dave. I'm Cynthia Gunderson, first officer of the Inelegant Truth. I'm just confirming that we transferred the last of the drills over to your care.
Why are you calling on Dave's line then? Bernie replied.
I got mistransfered and got sent to him. I was trying to get ahold of James Leland. she said wearily.
Who?
Big sigh. The Noodle.
Oh, why didn't you say so. He's in shaft five. I can get him for you if you want? Bernie made a motion like he was going to hit something on a keyboard.
NO! Look, can you just send me a confirmation letter saying you got your drills? I talked to Jame.... The Noodle this morning and he said he'd send it. I just don't want a record so nobody gets ripped off.
Hold on a sec. Bernie disappeared off camera and there was some rummaging sounds. Here it is. I was using as scratch paper for my crossword puzzle. Bernie came back into frame and held up a paper that looked official, if slightly doodled on. Give me a minute and I'll scan it in and send it. The screen switched back to the mascot before Cynthia could say a word.
Ten minutes later and one chewed through Bic ball point cap and Bernie returned even dirtier than he was before. Still there?
Yes, Cynthia replied, no longer trying to hide her annoyance under a veneer of professionalism.
Sorry about that, the scanner kept trying to reword the document in iambic pentameter. You should be getting it.... now. And sure enough, a slightly different caricature of Callisto appeared on a different monitor, waving about a pink envelop and shouting Mail call kids!
Cynthia rolled over to that terminal, brought up the file, and briefly scanned it to make sure it was what she wanted and not an essay on the allegorical nature of Beowulf. Right, looks like it came through clean. On behalf of Veil of History Unlimited, we thank you for your patronage. We hope to have further business with you very soon. Goodbye.
Goodby- Cynthia killed the connection with a triumphant mash of the Delete key.
Callisto?
Yes, First Officer Cynthia? Callisto digitized herself onto a far monitor, with a towel turban on her head.
What happened? I wanted to speak with somebody in management?
Well, you didn't say that. You just wanted to talk to somebody who worked over there. I got a hold of the first person I could.
Ugh. Cynthia began to rub her temples. Next time, could you put me in contact with somebody a little higher than Dave the Drill Guy from Blue Shift?
Well, I could but I wouldn't want to make a mistake, would I?
No. Of course you wouldn't. Where's the Captain?
In his ward room. I could ask him if you want?
No Calli, I'll get him. I need to talk to him about looking for a new job and there's as good a place as any. You go back to sleep. Or showering. Or whatever
Aye aye, Callisto gave a mock salute before the screen winked out. An almost, but not quite, inaudible Captain Bitchface, was whispered as the image faded. Immediately, a slightly tinny version of Callisto's voice blared out while Cynthia took a sip of coffee.
It is now 20:30 Zulu. Artificial gravity will shut down in 5.. 4... 3... 2... 1... Artificial gravity has been disabled. Normal one gee gravity will resume at 06:30 Zulu.
Cynthia sighed again, feeling a headache coming on as her once stationary coffee began to float out of her mug. She looked over at the clock. 20:28.
I hate wavetech It wasn't the first time she thought that. I certainly wouldn't be the last.---------------
-Jon
Being the Mariner hitting coach is like being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.
-Poster on USSMariner.com
---
Jon
"And that must have caused my dad's brain to break in half, replaced by a purely mechanical engine of revenge!"
***
When the cargo crane locked into place and Cynthia saw the suited worker give a thumbs up, she didn't so much as smile as frown less. One less thing to worry about.
As jobs went, this one went as smooth as anybody could want. A simple FedEx type mission from Luna to Ceres, ferrying several loads of light industrial equipment over the period of a day. The pay was decent, they'd made good time, and offloaded ahead of schedule without any problems. All and all a nice little W in the monthly budget. Any spacer would be satisfied with a good days work.
Cynthia wasn't a spacer.
Giving a slight sigh, she eased herself into a cat vomit yellow upholstered chair that gave an 'ooof' of exhaled air and began typing at one of four computer stations on the 'bridge'. Bridge would be a polite term, but it was little more then an L shaped room with large windows in the tower that faced out over the deck and had a pair of desks built into the walls. Each of these desks had a pair of flat screen monitors that each were connected to PC towers hidden inside the desks. All of which were much nicer than anything in that room deserved to be. Callisto? she said, apparently to nobody since 'bridge' was empty save for her.
One of monitors flickered to life, and the round face of a young woman with unnaturally bright blue eyes and hair to match appeared, blinking owlishly.
Yes Cynthia, what is it? I was running a defrag, Callisto's voice, clearly annoyed at having been bothered, came from a pair of speakers embedded in the ceiling.
Cynthia bit back another sigh. Sorry Callisto, but Dad just finished buttoning up. Could you send this message to Ishimura Heavy Industries confirming we delivered the drills?
Ok. Anything else, her tone being there had better not be.
Would you connect me with somebody at Unlimited Sky Ltd.? Cynthia gave her keyboard a few final taps and the messages dissolved off screen, replaced by a cartoony icon of a winking Callisto with a pink word bubble that said 'Mail has be sent.' She took a sip from her coffee mug, and gave another not smile of satisfaction. One thing about the Captain, like any self-respecting person from the Puget Sound region, he knew his coffee.
Hold on. Callisto disappeared, replaced by a screen saver, which today seemed to be of pictures of the Sun through different filters from the SOHO satellite. After a few seconds, Callisto's voice but not her image returned.Ok, putting you through.
Filtered cyan blue star dissolved, leaving a dirty young man in his late twenties, wearing coveralls and welding goggles on his forehead. He seem vaguely startled to be talking to anybody. Howdy! I'm Dave, I'm crew manager for Blue Shift here on Free Sky Station Alpha. Um, something you needed? We're kinda busy. Mining and all. He made a few imaginary mining pick swings in the air.
Cynthia blinked once, resisted the urge to roll her eyes for the fifth time that day and forged ahead. Yeah, this is Cynthia Gunderson, I'm first mate of the Inelegant Truth. I thought I was being put through to James Leland.
Who?
James Leland. You know, guy who runs the place.
Oh, you mean The Noodle. He can't come to the phone right now, I think he's in tunnel nine. Or maybe six. Or Phobos. Dave adjusted his goggles in thought. No, probably nine. Why didn't you just call Bernie, his secretary.
I would have, but I got transferred here. I'm just trying to tell somebody that the last of the drills is offloaded and we're ready to disembark.
Oh sweet! The drills are here. There those new pneumatic ones from Japan, right? Oh, awesome! Colax and I have been feeding this bucket of wave laser pointers for weeks now! It's gonna be so friggin' cool. I think we can actually some decent results fro-
That's great! she said, making a desperate bid to keep the conversation from spiraling any farther into the black hole it already had. Could you transfer me to Bernie's line? My comm been buggy lately.
Oh. Oh yeah, sure! Dave covered his disappointment over losing yet another opportunity to talk about drills with somebody new poorly. Transferring in just a sec.
Thank you. The screen flickered, briefly showing a cartoon picture of a man standing on an asteroid in a duster with a mining hat stomping on the fingers of a bunch of suit clad arms trying to grab hold. After seeing this image painted on every hatch, bulkhead, and flat stretch of rock within a kilometer of the Truth, Cynthia instantly recognized this as the corporate icon of Unlimited Sky Ltd. That images turned into another man in dirty coveralls, this time balding and in his forties. He looked grumpy. What is it now Dave. I swear, if you are on about lasers and drills again and not opening up that auxiliary shaft like I told you an hour ago, I will end you.
Cynthia stared at the screen, nonplussed. Um, this isn't Dave. I'm Cynthia Gunderson, first officer of the Inelegant Truth. I'm just confirming that we transferred the last of the drills over to your care.
Why are you calling on Dave's line then? Bernie replied.
I got mistransfered and got sent to him. I was trying to get ahold of James Leland. she said wearily.
Who?
Big sigh. The Noodle.
Oh, why didn't you say so. He's in shaft five. I can get him for you if you want? Bernie made a motion like he was going to hit something on a keyboard.
NO! Look, can you just send me a confirmation letter saying you got your drills? I talked to Jame.... The Noodle this morning and he said he'd send it. I just don't want a record so nobody gets ripped off.
Hold on a sec. Bernie disappeared off camera and there was some rummaging sounds. Here it is. I was using as scratch paper for my crossword puzzle. Bernie came back into frame and held up a paper that looked official, if slightly doodled on. Give me a minute and I'll scan it in and send it. The screen switched back to the mascot before Cynthia could say a word.
Ten minutes later and one chewed through Bic ball point cap and Bernie returned even dirtier than he was before. Still there?
Yes, Cynthia replied, no longer trying to hide her annoyance under a veneer of professionalism.
Sorry about that, the scanner kept trying to reword the document in iambic pentameter. You should be getting it.... now. And sure enough, a slightly different caricature of Callisto appeared on a different monitor, waving about a pink envelop and shouting Mail call kids!
Cynthia rolled over to that terminal, brought up the file, and briefly scanned it to make sure it was what she wanted and not an essay on the allegorical nature of Beowulf. Right, looks like it came through clean. On behalf of Veil of History Unlimited, we thank you for your patronage. We hope to have further business with you very soon. Goodbye.
Goodby- Cynthia killed the connection with a triumphant mash of the Delete key.
Callisto?
Yes, First Officer Cynthia? Callisto digitized herself onto a far monitor, with a towel turban on her head.
What happened? I wanted to speak with somebody in management?
Well, you didn't say that. You just wanted to talk to somebody who worked over there. I got a hold of the first person I could.
Ugh. Cynthia began to rub her temples. Next time, could you put me in contact with somebody a little higher than Dave the Drill Guy from Blue Shift?
Well, I could but I wouldn't want to make a mistake, would I?
No. Of course you wouldn't. Where's the Captain?
In his ward room. I could ask him if you want?
No Calli, I'll get him. I need to talk to him about looking for a new job and there's as good a place as any. You go back to sleep. Or showering. Or whatever
Aye aye, Callisto gave a mock salute before the screen winked out. An almost, but not quite, inaudible Captain Bitchface, was whispered as the image faded. Immediately, a slightly tinny version of Callisto's voice blared out while Cynthia took a sip of coffee.
It is now 20:30 Zulu. Artificial gravity will shut down in 5.. 4... 3... 2... 1... Artificial gravity has been disabled. Normal one gee gravity will resume at 06:30 Zulu.
Cynthia sighed again, feeling a headache coming on as her once stationary coffee began to float out of her mug. She looked over at the clock. 20:28.
I hate wavetech It wasn't the first time she thought that. I certainly wouldn't be the last.---------------
-Jon
Being the Mariner hitting coach is like being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.
-Poster on USSMariner.com
---
Jon
"And that must have caused my dad's brain to break in half, replaced by a purely mechanical engine of revenge!"