OUTWORLD: Chronicles

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

It was far from how she had expected her life to look at this point in time, but as Minka Skirth reclined in her captain's chair and sipped at a cup of coffee from her own private dispenser, she reflected that it could be worse.

She swallowed her mouthful and looked around the tiny bridge of her ship, the Tabula Rasa. Payload Supervisor Sabrina Fico and Payload Specialist Jojo Boorem were at their stations, both ostensibly checking on the ongoing status of their cargo. Skirth was under no illusions of that being the case, however; she knew full well that, with the ship out of drive-space and capable of receiving signals, the two of them were looking for trashy vid-dramas. From the look on Fico's muzzle, she had already found one.

Skirth looked fore. At the helm was Madison, the Arctic Fox synthetic; in stark contrast to her organic companions, Madison was almost entirely still, her attention solely focused on her duties. The same went for Riley, Madison's fellow synthetic. The artificial Wolf was likewise motionless at the engineering cupola, overseeing the functions of the ship.

Skirth smiled to herself and poured another cup of coffee, this one a hazelnut mocha. Sure, her coffee maker was needlessly extravagant given her financial position – or lack thereof – but a captain needed perks, and so at her station it sat. She peered out of the forward viewports, gazing at the stars. After three days in drive-space, it was a welcome relief to be back in the real world, at least for a little while; Core traffic regulations demanded that all ships moving through an inhabited system revert to standard drive while doing so. A cerulean, cloud-etched planet drifted nearby, moving ever so slightly at the Tabula Rasa slowly passed it.

Skirth turned to Fico. "How's the cargo? We bounced around a bit coming out of drive-space."

She fought to suppress laughter as Fico made a hash of switching the video without actually looking as if she were doing so. "We're okay," the Seal replied, licking her lips innocently.

"Lovely," Skirth chirped. "Boorem?"

Again, the same scramble as the Dog attempted to pretend as if he had been watching the same video for the past few hours. "We're good. All equipment is still in place."

"That's how I like it," Skirth smiled. "How's about some music?" She produced a tape that she had pilfered from Fico's personal stash and popped it into the player on her control board. Upbeat guitars blasted from the bridge's speakers.

Fico sang along quietly, bopping her head. "Her face is a map of the world, is a map of the world... You can see she's a beautiful girl, she's a beautiful girl..." A look of realization abruptly crossed her face. "Hey, that's mine," the Seal protested, looking over at Skirth accusingly.

"Captain's privilege," Skirth told her smugly. "I get to root around in your stuff."

Boorem looked a little nervous. "Uh, Captain? You haven't, uh, looked around in my stuff, have you?"

Skirth shook her head reassuringly. "No, Boorem. Your Naughty Bitch magazines are safe from my curious paws."

Boorem looked mollified for all of three seconds. "Oi!"

Skirth laughed.

Madison suddenly moved, which caught Skirth's attention immediately. "Captain?"

"Yes, Madison?" Skirth asked, her stomach filling with ice.

"A warship has emerged from drive-space nearby," Madison said, her attention still on her screens. "From the looks of it, it's on an intercept. With us."

Skirth blinked. "Seriously?"

"Warship?" Fico asked from her station.

"Probably Core Marines on exercises," Boorem muttered. "Steer 'round 'em."