Sci-fi short, thriller about a space hauler pilot, Mack Kim, who gets embroiled in a mystery that sets his nerves on edge as he struggles to figure out what's going on. Written with the intention of being a Love, Death + Robots episode.
(Our protagonist of Korean descent, Mack Kim, steps into the shower cubby of his space hauler's living quarters)
Kim's cargo hauler drifts through space in silence. Its passage unnoticed by the surrounding planetary bodies. Within the decades-old hauler, the gentle murmur of running water emanates from its small living quarters.
Catacea-pattern haulers have long been decommissioned by interstellar cargo firms. They favored newer models; sturdier, more durable, able to travel greater distances (with bigger living spaces too, Kim was often envious of the young upstarts who were assigned these newer ships). Nowadays, older haulers have a bad rep, they're either involved in smuggling or outright piracy.
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(A buzz from the comms unit echoes in the space hauler's small cockpit. In the adjacent living quarters the shower tap squeals shut and the sound of water recedes from a gurgle to the pitter patter of a drizzle)
"Come in Wombat-39, this is Wavecrest. Come in," a sultry voice repeats itself over the radio. Mack Kim wraps a towel around his waist and steps out of the cramped shower cubby, yelling at the comms unit as he walks over to the receiver, "Hey there sugar! How's the universe's worst posting coming along?"
"Not as bad as they make it out to be Cowboy," comes the tinny reply, "Wavecrest may be the remotest waystation in this backwater sector, but it has the best pantry you've ever seen. If you knew what they were feeding us back on the Mars orbitals, you'd die of shock," you could hear the smile in First Lieutenant Martha Suleyman's voice, waystation X-13751's, aka Wavecrest's, newest crew member.
"I'm getting an odd readout from my instruments Cowboy, telemetry doesn't look right. I need you to check your trajectory," Martha continued.
(Kim slips on a faded t-shirt with an imprint of a long forgotten old earth brand that simply read Vans. He often wondered why humanity's ancestors were so fascinated by that particular motor vehicle)
"You sure about that love? I haven't touched my flight console in weeks. Napping and bathing, that's the routine babe. Cigarettes and food in between," quipped Kim.
"Just do it Mack, what I'm seeing is kinda worrying," was Suleyman's terse response.
"Gotcha mother, if you're worried, I should be too," answered Kim.
Mack fiddles with the knobs and buttons on his flight console, then slides his fingers across the holoscreen that pops up and frowns.
"That's odd. I'm off course by 2.35 million miles. How long have I been drifting Wavecrest?" asked Mack.
"36 hours Mack. Initially we thought you were making course corrections to compensate for Eugene-6's solar flares," replied Martha.
"But then you continued on your merry way toward the Miriam Belt. At current course you'll hit the asteroid belt in under 24 hours, you've got to adjust course Wombat," she added.
