Dynamic Patrol: Gel-Squad (Remastering!)

Chapter 51: Orbital Station

It took them an hour and a half to rise to low orbit, but soon, they approached the sprawling, centrifuge-shaped orbital station, which rotated slowly around in space. The sleek white exterior was sprinkled with windows and various technical labels in both English and the Omeocoon native language, Omeoneese.

Kipp was in awe. He thrashed to release his safety restraints so he could get out of his seat to take a closer look. It was quite a feat of engineering, and he was right to be excited. His face and hands were pressed against the cockpit glass as he looked at the giant spinning disk. "It's massive!"

Russell was not so impressed. He remained straight-faced as he hailed the station constantly with the same message; 'personal ship, Falcon, requesting docking permission.' He released his finger from the comm panel and heard nothing but static. Once again, he pressed the button, "I repeat, we're rapidly approaching, requesting docking clearance." He looked toward
Tommy after the static continued.

The fellow Omeocoon had not given up hope just yet. He nodded, silently telling Russell to continue the message.

But Russell did not. He just stared at Tommy.

"What is it?" Tommy sighed at Russell's mild insubordination.

"They would've seen us by now; the channel is open—they're ignoring us, that means trouble," Russell warned.

D1 spoke, "Perhaps their communications system is damaged. Orbital stations like this one do not have efficient protection against exterior elements; they require constant maintenance, and if it is a skeleton crew, they may not have been able to perform repairs as effectively."

The ship continued anyway, and Kipp pointed out the appearance of several small, sphere-shaped craft in some of the other docking bays. They seemed to be in excellent shape. "What are those?" Kipp asked Russell. He had the most experience with orbital stations, so he was invaluable to this operation.

Russell classified them as escape pods, smaller, shorter-range craft used for emergencies. They could be salvation for the lucky individual brave enough to risk their lives to get to one. But they'd be in for one hell of a ride—a terrible, rough one. Most people who boarded escape pods were not competent pilots.

"Escape pods... that's good, right? That means there are survivors who were willing to stay on the station?" Tommy further asked Russell.

Russell crossed his arms and glared in Tommy's direction, but that glare softened as Russell realized that it might've been in his best interest to keep Tommy hopeful, given that he was the leader of the mission and maintained morale. "Sure, Tommy."

The Falcon continued toward an empty docking port. "I require assistance, Kipp. Please monitor the docking computer while I perform this maneuver," D1 commanded. She had already started aligning the rear of their ship with the station's port.

Kipp nodded and rushed back to his station. He worked the computer console, prompting the ship to enter the proper docking mode. Then, he waited for D1's signal.

"Engage docking procedures." She commanded, and Kipp threw the switches.

With D1's help, the autopilot guided itself onto the port.

Tommy watched the rear cameras from one of the consoles. A corridor from the station extended outward, making its appearance known with a large mechanical motorized noise as it went to latch onto the Falcon. Yet another large clunk in the rear of the ship. The hissing of decontamination spray was also becoming apparent. "Sounds like the station's safety protocols are still active. That means the backup computer is still functioning... right?" Tommy leaned on Russell again, who responded with a shrug. "You're being very unhelpful today..." Tommy replied. He was really starting to worry about Russell. He was shutting down more than usual. Hopefully, they could take a break soon. A long one. He imagined that after everything with Kallum and the village, Russell would like to eventually put his feet up.