Drift of Night, Part One (standard:science fiction, 2610 words)
Author: Vincent Collevera	Added: Apr 04 2010	Views/Reads: 2736/1939	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Captain Katherine Rimes comes from a long line of highly skilled pilots. Being the black sheep of the family, she has opted for a career in cargo transport rather than the military like her brother, both parents, grandparents, and so on. En route to the

Captain Katherine Rimes powered down the thrusters on her C class
cruiser and allowed inertia to carry her into the parabolic slingshot 
orbit around the larger moon of some small insignificant planet near 
the Outer Ring.  The end of that slingshot would throw her into a 
larger one around the planet that would put her on a vector for her 
final destination and allow her the acceleration needed to make a Jump. 


"Captain, sensors indicate a distress beacon in field quadrant seven. 
Would you like to send a probe?"  The onboard A.I. had a calm baritone 
she had been looking for in a man for years now.  She hated that her 
best friend was housed in a series of crystal wires and nanochip super 
computers.  It figured.  "Yes, send out a probe and bounce a relay 
message from the planet back towards Prime HQ."  She sighed.  Damned 
tourists, probably.  They came out here in their Corvette 
Interplanetaries thinking they could copy the parabolic orbits to 
slingshot system to system all the way out to the Colonies.  Idiots. 

"Captain, probe indicates no signs of life.  The craft is not in the
database.  Would you like to-" "Yes, Beowulf.  I want to swing over and 
deviate from course and possibly lose time and be hours or even a whole 
day late with this shipment of fruit and designer clothes.  Deploy the 
arm and find me that docking hatch.  And unlock the dashboard lighter, 
please.  I just cleaned your scrubbers and I want a cigarette." 

"Yes, Captain."  The A.I. had a distinctly disapproving tone.  "I still
think you should quit smoking."  He said desultorily.  "And why is 
that, Beowulf?"  She asked conversationally while lighting the tip of 
the thin white stick in her mouth.  "Because aside from clogging my 
scrubbers and interfering with my internal sensors, it turns your teeth 
yellow and makes your breath smell terrible."  He replied 
matter-of-factly.  She choked attempting to laugh with lungs full of 
smoke.  "And it's unhealthy, obviously." 

Cpt. Rimes shook her head and blew the next mouthful of smoke directly
into one of his video sensors at the helm.  "I'll take my chances.  
Now, what about that hatch?"  The endless night outside the cockpit 
resolved itself into a small craft that tumbled through the nothingness 
on its way into the depth of the small planet's gravity well.  "Correct 
that tumble and clamp it in place with the arm."  She spoke with 
authority she only felt on her ship.  The little probe she'd deployed 
earlier shot in and attached itself to the tumbling craft and fired 
directional bursts of compressed gas and gradually corrected the spin 
to orient it with the Geatland. 

The small craft was like nothing she had ever seen before.  For one
thing, it was entirely too small to have an adequate propulsion system 
onboard.  For another, it was likely too small to have much in the way 
of life support, either.  It looked as though it may be some type of 
cryogenic life-raft.  The robotic arm reached out slowly and snagged a 
hold on the probe with its electromagnet before pulling back alongside 
her ship. 

"Beowulf, why didn't you attach the magnet to the hull and why am I not
oriented on the hatch?"  She asked with a touch of annoyance in her 
tone.  "Because, Captain; the hull is not magnetic and there is no 
hatch.  Obviously."  Came the dulcet tones over the com.  She thought 
for a few microseconds before giving the order.  "Make a seal and cut a 
hole, then.  I want to know what's in there.  And get us back on course 
before you get us so hopelessly behind schedule that we end up without 
a job." 

"Yes, Captain.  I will correct your course corrections now.  The dock
will be from Bay Nine."  He said calmly.  He never got flustered.  No 
matter how much she tried to prickle him.  Damn computers.  Especially 
male computers. 

She got up from her Captain's chair and started jogging down the long
corridor to the docking bays.  The muted grays, blacks, and browns of 
the metal bulkheads repeated monotonously through her course.  Once 
again, she wondered fleetingly if her ship could do with a little 
sprucing up, maybe a dash of pink here, some pastels there.  By the 
time she got to the docking bays, she was slightly out of breath.  The 
ship's A.I. came over the com, "There's another reason you should 
quit."  She made a rude gesture in the direction of the nearest video 


Click here to read the rest of this story (175 more lines)