Lasers in the night sky
11 Dec 2020Teafox
The bubble seems noticeably quieter tonight. Not in the way that the usual hustle and bustle of local system pilots are absent. Those guys have a living to make, and the traders are trading, haulers are hauling... But the pilots federation communications channels are, subdued, I guess. It's eerie. Maybe there's just a lot of folks helping out with the aid request to build new stations for the NMLA separatists that have been in the news lately. Kid wants to go help out, but I'm not so sure if it isn't a bit too high profile for us right now. We agree to leave the decision for when we're done with business here.Frankly, it's a pain in the ass to someone who was hoping to keep a low profile, but by keeping our route direct and our fuel stops short, we seem to have not been noticed. We hit orbit of Yoru 4 a little after midnight, standard time, it would seem that it's night time locally as well, although judging from the lighting, Zachariah Nemo is throwing another one of his famous parties.
The automated landing control informs us as much, but thankfully, it doesn't turn us away, but simply informs us that we will be restricted to the maintenance bay if we can't produce an invitation.
We're both tired, so I neglected to explain my decision as I cancelled the docking request and prepared to land rough on the planet's surface. The kid asks why. I explain that Zach's parties are unbelievably loud, and since we're not getting in? Some sleep would be preferable.
Not unreasonably, he protests that the planet has no atmosphere, and sound won't travel through a vacuum.
I start to explain, but then realize that it'd be funnier to demonstrate my point. The AI traffic control doesn't mind at all, politely states that there is a party going on and that without an invite we will be restricted to... and about at that time, our landing gear makes contact with the pad and neither of us can make out the rest of what is said.
The metal gantry connecting the docking rig to the main hub of the complex is visibly vibrating to the beat of the music, conducting the sound directly up into the structure of the ship's hull, in spite of the shock absorbers in the landing gear.
Our brief discussion about wanting to take off again was conducted via a lot of shouting and hand signals. Thankfully, its possible to signal a lift off request without relying on voice control and the music snaps to a ringing quiet the moment we lose contact with the structure and hit vacuum again.
The boy is incredulous, it was the loudest thing he's ever heard. I explain some of the physics behind it, and demonstrate that it still works if we touch down on the rocky planet surface too close to the base. He laughs at the notion that going to one of these parties without hearing protection can lead to serious injury.
Eventually we park a few kilometers off, if you listen carefully, you can still hear a faint bass line through the hull, but from the hill here, there's a nice view of the light show from the pilots seat. The kid's pretty light, even more so in this low gravity, so he perches on my lap and we share a blanket as we watch the show. Before I realize it, he's asleep. I tried to move him to one of the bunks, but it'd be difficult to do without waking him. Next thing I knew it was almost ten hours later. It seems I was tired too.
We've parked up again in the landing bay. The kid's getting some breakfast whilst I organize my thoughts and we both wait for Zach to wake up and be ready for guests.