Distractions
04 Jul 2023Ryuko Ntsikana
Distractions
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The mechanic combated against the carrier owner and clan leader. A stream of rapid glances at the tablet in her lap showed a live feed of the hangar bay, housing her Imperial Cutter. The section chiefs seated around the table presented their updates on the state of their departments while the hangar maintenance droids whirled in a continual stream, removing and changing modules, converting her from a heavily armed trading ship into a massive mining vessel.
A few of the chiefs could not hide their playful smirks or smiling eyes at her distracted attention. They knew Xochitl was focused more on what she would soon be doing versus the state of where she was. In truth, she did not need to be here, as Rex was the usual leader of these meetings. Her presence was only required in the most important of decisions, and even the majority of those could be done at a physical distance.
Xochitl glanced up to see her dad staring at her, a smile on his face. He was one of the ten male elders in the room. Her mom sat with the female elders in a unique role. Her position as the mother of the clans Targitai placed her within the ranking of the female elders without the position or responsibilities. A more honorary placing that she enjoyed as it allowed her to focus on her physicist and propulsion specialist profession under Dr. Kinney in the Universal Cartographics department.
She knew she had missed parts of the chief’s discussion at the table but was confident that either Rex or Avery would bring any pressing matter to her attention. They knew, as did everyone else in the room that her primary role would be outside of the confines of the carrier’s hull. Providing funding, fuel, and the necessities required, while they dealt with more internal matters. After the recent dust-ups, it was just as well to keep everyone on board that didn’t need to be out, even this far removed from the location of the incidents.
A recent memory appeared in her mind, letting her know that testing had begun on the recently installed modules and that the ship would be ready within the hour. Xochitl knew it was Avery who had sent her the message, or more apt, memory. It was the way a neural processor worked. It was more of a mental mailbox than a voice in her head, the latter requiring actual vibration that could have unusual side effects on the surrounding brain. Far safer, easier, and more efficient to have it store the message to be retrieved as a less obtrusive short-term memory that could be transformed into a long-term memory through repetition, if necessary.
Xochitl had not noticed the ending of the chiefs briefing and the beginning of the elder's discussion as she fixated on the number of limpet drones she would need for her foray into the pristine icy planetary rings; visible from the viewing window in the conference room. Her thoughts turned inward, running fuel consumption rates and stored quantities in the cargo holds. There was more than enough, but the wider the margin, the better the conditions.
Looking up at the assembled elders; no one was looking in her direction. This was a positive sign that any issues put on the table were being handled at their level, keeping them from her door. She watched her dad’s active listening skills, affording each elder their full say on any matter without interruption. Unfortunately, it was not a life skill Xochitl had learned, nor one a spry kid with a spanner wrench in their hand would have the patience to learn.
The newest memory to appear in her mind was one of time. Would her trip be for the day or longer?