Tales from the Drift: Old Lessons, Hard Futures

Chapter 29 - Skew Correlation

HOUSE NORR DROPSHIP // HYPERSPACE // MISSION TIME +42:13:28

The engine rumble was all wrong. There was no waffle, no warble, only a steady, skull-numbing drone. The power cycle was thirty-one pulses too long. The interval between power cycles another fifty-two pulses longer. The bulkheads were glossy black. The lighting was some sort of burnt orange that bordered on being misidentified as red. The air was dry and scratchy with disinfectant.

Sleep was impossible.

Okoda's skull vibrated with driving restlessness.

Laid atop the smooth surface of a purloined equipment crate were the disassembled pieces of his sidearm. He had scrubbed the grit and gunk from the grooves, wiped the corrosion from the electronic contacts, and cleared away the sooty buildup from the vents and muzzle. Another pass wouldn't see the parts become any cleaner, but the compulsion twitched within his fingers.

Cort's incessant chatter threatened to shatter the modicum of tranquility he'd managed to muster. Focused concentration on a tedious task was all Okoda had to fight against the absurdity of the situation.

The Norr dropship was cramped. It was a special refit, and it, like the troopers, were far from standard issue conferred one of the troopers to Cort with some reticence. Not being standard issue didn't make it less cramped, quite the opposite, special operations required special equipment, droned the trooper with flat disinterest. Jump drive, medical bay, field fabrication unit, holding cell, briefing room, and even private quarters for the commander, or in this case, Lord Norr.

Confined to the main hold with the rest of the troopers, the only privacy to be found was inside your own helmet. Rumble seats bisected by weapon and armor racks lined the side walls. Shiny. Clean. Expensive. Very Icosan. Austere angles. Trimmed edges. Very House Norr.

It had the look of parade military. Inspire and intimidate. Make the heritor lord look fearsome and mighty, but the heritor lord was fearsome and mighty all on his own. And these troopers? Hardened. Calculated. All it took was a sharp finger snap from across the compact bay to silence the trooper and end the conversation with Cort.

Cort, being Cort, wasn't much dismayed. With an easy smile and a friendly shrug, he left the Norr troopers alone, and settled for a more captive audience.

The holding cell, its pink-hued energy walls humming with the steady crackle of static, was situated in the troop bay for easy surveillance. Though none of the troopers appeared to observe it with anything more than a passing glance. Its lone occupant sat cross-legged on the deck, hands upon knees, eyes closed. A small smirk lifted the corners of his lips as he listened to Cort's ramblings. So far, the squaddie hadn't been dissuaded from prying into Corinth's deeds and doings, despite a significant lack reciprocation.

In front of the loading doors, in what was the only open space, Irsa engaged in a bit of competitive exhibition.

The trooper thought he had her, so she played into his arrogance. She slowed her movements and stuttered her timing. To Okoda's eyes, it was all too clear that she was letting him win, but none of the troopers seemed to notice. They even cheered, in their own subdued and restrained manner. Yet. The more he won, the more they talked.

Nearby, Miraj leaned over a workbench, an assortment of tools spread out before her. Her helmet, like Okoda's sidearm, had been disassembled, but her eyes were not focused on what her hands were doing. Her mind was occupied with a different task, one which was a much more complicated sort of puzzle.

She somehow detected his gaze. Her head tilted, as though with concentration for her work, but she indicated that Okoda should watch her hands. Her left hand waffled above the workbench, as though shaking out a cramp. The sign for interference. Her right hand moved down the length of her face, as though wiping away the physical tightness of intense focus. The sign for a mask. Her left hand counted to nine and then waffled again.