The Long Haul
20 Sep 2016KronenBrg
I was tired.What my friend had neglected to mention was just how much strain these trips put on you, both physically and mentally.
First was the endless running from bar to bar in an attempt to get the most lucrative transport deals in as short a time as possible. Looking at my SmartWristHoloView(tm) I could see, for example, that yesterday I'd covered more than 22 kilometres on foot, virtually the entire diameter of the Newholm Station ten times over in order to fill the hold of my Fed Corvette.
And then there was the slow run back to 'civilised' space. In a ship of this size, designed for a crew but manned only by me, it was lonely. Lonely, and every creak, every squeak played on my mind. I would find myself pacing around the bridge, sitting in every chair, touching every console, just to give me something to do that would break the monotony. Every now and again I'd even find myself wishing for an interdiction. Just every now and again.
So as I sat there watching the surface of CG-X D1-100 and waiting for the computer to let me know the tanks were full again, the last thing I expected was company.
"Be careful what you wish for" That's what my old man used to say.
The Ship appeared from nowhere, and I mean nowhere. One minute I was alone, just me and the sudoku, the next my proximity alert was screaming and the cabin alert was blinding me in a dazzle of red. Somewhere in the back my mind something registered, and then my instincts took over.
I swung the nose around and flipped the power to the shields, ready for the inevitable interdiction. My finger hovered over the Nearest Hostle switch, ready to hit it. But all the time I was thinking that something felt wrong.
Silence.
I swear that all this time I was holding my breath.
Nothing.
It didn't make sense. Ok, I was hauling shit over vast distances for large sums of money, but this made less sense. The Ship stayed on my aft side, just beyond what I could see through the cockpit canopy, close enough to feel it gravitational influence, close enough to alert the proximity alarms, yet it wasn't interdicting me?
"SHIP SCAN DETECTED!"
WTF? Even half insane this wasn't making sense to me. I was in Slipstream, how could he scan me?
As the question bounced around inside my head the floor beneath me jolted, throwing me forward to the flight console.
And then everything went dark. The light of the star was there, but every one of my ships displays, every LED around the flight stick, all the separate HUD visuals, all were dark. And then the light of the star was gone as my mysterious stalker flew over my flight deck blocking any light for a second, a long second.
And then it was gone.
As I exhaled I saw the air leave my lungs, making me realise instantly that it wasn't just the flight controls that were down, even life support had deserted me.
And yet, before I could formulate a plan on my next moves (which at that time were limited to screaming or hitting the dashboard, or both) there was a dull wurr and the systems started to reboot as my 'vette came back to life.
The strange thing, as if none of this had qualified as strange yet, was that there was no sign of an encounter with another ship in my computer and nothing near by to suggest that another ship had Jumped or Dropped in my vicinity. Nothing on the radar, aside from the star, nothing to suggest that I'd been anything other than alone for the last five minutes, just nothing.
"FUEL SCOOPING COMPLETE"
I slipped back into my own little auto-pilot world, hitting the button to start my jump to the next sector, my brain retreating into its own unicorn island.
The only thing that I could clearly remember about the whole event, the only thing that I can really remember now, sitting in the Commanders Bay Bar two days later...
...I'd swear the Ship was octagonal and black. Very, very black.