Blinking Lights Are Not Good
Out in the black, outside Empire borders, outside safety zone, a lone spacecraft sped through the empty space. It had seen better days and a couple of the outer panels were missing and only three of the six motors were running. It was painted in an earthy, toned-down gray color scheme, but most of the paint had fallen or scraped off.
There were no visible weapons. It definitely was not a combat ship. Radar arrays and sensor bars criss-crossed the ship all the way from the cockpit at the front to the rear engines. More doors, concealing a hefty array of more delicate sensors were sprinkled over the body.
Considering the size and number of engines, the absolutely massive fuel reserve containers it had strapped under its wings, and the substantial amount of sensors present, it clearly was an exploration craft. Slightly front, above the right wing, there was a text painted on the side of the fuselage, “Travelstar” and under it, in almost completely faded letters, “Sirius Corporation F-202M1.” At the front, under the cockpit window, read “Cpt. N. Melcey.”
Inside, the cockpit was quiet and empty. Only the half-billion lights glimmering away and the word “Autopilot Engaged” blinking on the main screen betrayed the fact that the whole ship was actually in use at all. Behind the cockpit door, there were two other doors, one lead to the side entrance, out of the ship via the docking collar, and the other to the middle section of the ship.
There were three doors in addition to the one leading to the cockpit. One of them said “Observation”, one “Systems” and the last one, that was slightly ajar, “Living Quarters.” Behind that door was a surprisingly neat and large room with a double bed, desk, some shelves, and a bathroom door. There was a metric ass-ton of different kinds of mass-storage media on the desk, in addition to at least three hand communicators, five or so portable computers and a whole stack of data tablets.
The shelves were filled with books about the known regions of the space, from one side to another, and half of the shelf was filled with journals from other explorers, trying to map the unknown regions. On the bed, barely under the covers, slept a woman. Her long ears betrayed her elven heritage, her extra-long blonde hair specified that to be the planet Quenstar on the other side of the known space. This little elf was a long way away from home.
The Travelstar was heading away from the unknown regions, back toward the areas controlled by the Empire and back towards civilization. According to the logs of the on-board computers, it had been almost fifteen years since the ship was last been fully repaired, and almost ten years since it had touched port in an Empire-controlled station.
The fuel scoops of the ship must have been super good. Even that huge amount of fuel she got under her would not last a year. To have been out there for ten… It was almost unheard of. Most explorers set out for a few months, and the very few longer ones didn’t last for more than two years, maybe even three. Ten years, in one ship, alone. Might have been the first time anyone did that.
A little device beside the bed made a series of demanding beeps and then a tone that suggested someone should take a peek at this, and do it unnecessarily soon, or it would change to another tone, and nobody would want to hear that. It turned on an angry red light to reinforce the importance, and tell the world that it was irate it hadn’t already been dealt with.
The woman on the bed stirred and opened her eyes. She propped herself up, leaning on her elbows, and looked seriously unfocused at the little beeping device. Her eyes were bright green, and she appeared to not have pupils at all, which made her eyes look sort of weird.
“You gotta be kidding me”, she said. She slapped the device slightly on the top and it stopped making demanding noises. The angry red light turned amber, and the device made a content beep now that it had been noticed. The woman put her feet on the floor and sat up, and ruffled her hair with her fingers.
“This piece of crap of a ship will be the death of me one of these days,” she said. Groggily, she rose up and waddled towards the door. She was wearing some sort of overalls in gray. On the right side of her chest, “CAPTAIN NAINA M.” was printed on the suit. She walked through the door and took a hold of the walls and made her way to the cockpit. Lights went on when she entered and a dozen displays sprang to life. She looked at one of them and sighed.
“You know you could just fix this yourself”, she muttered under her breath. And absent-mindedly tugged on her left ear. “Quera, are you on?”, she said aloud.
“Yes, Captain Melcey,” came a disembodied computerized female voice from the speakers, “I have been on the entire journey. I do not have the capability to shut myself down, Captain Melcey.”
“You don’t have the capability to understand sarcasm either, but here we are,” Naina said. She sighed. “So, damage report, Quera. What’s the situation with the refinery… again?” She said.
