Where Walls Wither

[Red Thunder]

CS

October 13, 2136
1352 hours​

Foresight Industries was paying them exceptionally well for this gig, so Ken's boss had spared no expense. Well, that wasn't exactly true; the owner was still a greedy bastard, only worried with lining his own pockets. The promise of double overtime Ken had been instructed to make had been considered an investment. Sneering, his eyes wandered the ship that was to carry whatever junk Foresight wanted out so deep in space. It was Deep worthy, sure: the good ship Howard Phillips was their newest crate and had made the five runs or so since its commissioning perfectly. Not that it was comfortable by any means. The artifical gravity tubes sat just below the floor panels, wrapped in safety insulation; the living quarters were tight and intimate, more fit for ants than people for all the personal space it accommodated; and every last wall was lined in the same monotonous gray paneling, illuminated by the weak if steady cold flow of a line of fluorescent bulbs. Ken shook his head, grateful for his position as supervisor; he wouldn't have to get into that luxury tuna can.

At least, not if people actually showed up. He checked his watch; another few minutes until he started calling people. Another few minutes before he began screaming obscenities. Grumbling, he pulled a small digital pad from the issued uniform, a dull green coverall. Several names flashed across the screen as it came to life, and he nodded, recognizing some of them. This should be interesting.

And where the hell was that cargo? That Foresight rep should have been here with it already. Damn it if fucking nobody had any sense of urgency. That Jones woman made it sound like it was an emergency, and yet they were late.

Shit.

 

[Thomas McTavish]

October 13, 2136
1355 hours​

Ardas stumbled through the door, pulling on his usual blue pilot's jacket with the Foresight logo stitched over the front left breast pocket. He looked like he had either just woken up or been awake too long, a small coffee stain on his shirt collar and bags under his eyes. "Don't give me that look, Ken, I know I'm a bit late, but-" he paused to yawn, and took a quick look around, confused by the lack of both people and cargo. "Well I'll be fucked, I'm here before the payload's even arrived."

A small wake-up station had been set up nearby. It was mostly for the days when the mechanics had to work the early and late shifts, but the coffee was always ready and usually fresh, so Ardas had a tendency to make himself a cup or two when no one who'd care was around. As he stirred a bit of instant creamer into his styrofoam cup, he motioned back and forth between Ken and the coffee machine, silently offering to make Ken a cup.

 

[Doctor Jax]

"Mother Mary on fry bread," Harry groaned as he walked in with his vacuum case, the thin bag draped over his shoulder. The good ship was sitting in the dry dock, as per usual, but there was something conspicuously missing from Harry's view. He always came up through the back to see how loading was going, that way he had a good idea of just exactly how badly the guys were following his express directions. This time around, however -- nada. Zip, zilch, zero. The cargo -- which he had painstakingly situated along with the rest of the crap going that far out into the boonies -- was not there. Oh, some of the stuff from Haderly and Boeing were already in place, stowed away per his instructions, but there he could see, with his practiced eye, that there was a hole where a certain container should be.

"Afternoon Ken, Addy -- I'll take a cup a' joe if there's any left, there," he asked as he headed over to the wake-up station where Addy had headed. Smart man, there. Get it while the gettin' was good, because the synthetic stuff on board was just a rung above rat piss in terms of taste.

"I see we're missin' something pretty big. When're we shipping off? Aren't we leavin' at something like 4, 5 in the afternoon or whatever?" Harry asked, staring up at the good ship Howard Phillips. What a stupid name for a ship. A right shame, really. What kind of moron gives a far-out freighter like that a name like Howard Phillips?

 

[RiddL]

October 13, 2136
1357 Hours​

Johnny walked up to where the others were waiting, his duffle bag slung over one shoulder. He looked around slightly confused as he saw no cargo and no ship. He dropped his duffel bag on the ground and sat down on top of it, checking his belt and making sure that everything was secure before looking up to the others. "I'm pretty sure i'm late, and yet I'm somehow I'm here before the cargo." He shook his head a little as he said that. "Someone want to explain what the hell is going on?"

He looked around and looked back down at the notice as he pulled it up from his emails. He was definitely late, but by his eye only three others had arrived so far. Either the rest of the crew were on the Ship or something had gone wrong somewhere along the line.

 

[Red Thunder]

"Fuck your coffee, 'Ardas," Ken muttered, putting hard emphasis on an 'H' that he'd shoved in front of the man's name. As each crewman had entered the bay, the manager had stabbed grumpily at the digital pad with a plastic stylus, marking the relevant persons as present for their run. They still lacked some others, and Ken felt his blood pressure rising.

A thunk echoed from the ship's hold before he could clip off a sarcastic quip in reply to the others' queries, and he spun on his heels. A large piece of repair piping, previously secured against the hold's wall, had hit the floor, knocked loose by two of Reach Out's less promotable employees. Grinning stupidly, Kris and Erik gave mock salutes aimed Ken's way.

"'Shar bad, bosh," Erik slurred, his blonde hair ratty and his uniform stained with alcohol. Kris didn't look much better. The twins were known for their extravocational hobby, but given that such fearless spacewalkers were hard to come by, Ken had for the most part overlooked it. But now he gave a small scream of frustrated anger and stomped up the loading ramp.

"I told you: no booze on this ship!" He shoved an accusing finger from one chest to the other. "You have more, don't you? Of course you do. Motherfucker. As if I didn't have enough on my goddam plate.

"Well?!" he sputtered, pointing farther into the ship. "I want it out before takeoff! Out! Now!"

The twins stalked off, muttering curses and regrets to each other. And Ken followed on their heels, muttering the same.

Not moments later, the small bay access door opened. A box shape, perhaps three feet square and sitting the on a push cart, emerged from the blindingly illuminated hallways behind it. An arrhythmic squeak accomplanied it, and the shape dipped slightly every so often as the noisy wheel turned on its flaw. A figure clothed in a fading gray sweater and black pants pushed it along, and a large loose toboggan covered the features of the face. When the cart had reached the loading ramp, the figure turned and left the way it'd come, pausing only to step aside to allow another figure through the door.

Where the first figure slouched, this figure stood upright, and whether the first's features were vague and undefined, the second was clearly a woman of standing. She wore a loose fitting blouse of ivory white atop a black pencil skirt. One hand rested upon her hips and another held a burning cigarette perhaps a foot from her red lips. Her jet black was shaped into tight curls, carefully crafted, and disinterested eyes peered out from beneath a vaguely condescending brow. She approached the crate upon th cart with a slow gait, accompanied by the click of stiletto heels against the concrete floor. Coming to a stop, she turned her head toward the three Foresight employees gathered there.

"You seem...understaffed," the woman stated, her alto strangely brusque.

@Thomas McTavish @Doctor Jax @RiddL @rissa

 

[Thomas McTavish]

October 13, 2136
1401 hours​

Ardas smirked and rolled his eyes at Ken as he fixed a second cup for Harry, who'd taken him up on his offer. His boots thudded softly on the concrete floor as he walked over and handed a Styrofoam cup to Harry, taking a slurp from his own. He shrugged at Johnny, who just arrived, just as confused as his co-worker. A loud crash from the ship startled him enough to spill a little coffee on his hand, forcing him to wince and grunt in pain until the heat had subsided. Kris and Erik, unsurprisingly drunk yet a-fucking-gain, had dropped a piece of repair piping in their stupor. "Blasted drunkards breaking my bird," he muttered, shaking his head as the two wasted engineers gave a mocking salute to Ken, and were promptly marched off to have their booze confiscated.

A well-cloaked figure wheeled a crate on a squeaky dolly, the sound catching Ardas' attention. Trying to play it cool, he continued drinking his coffee as he watched the cargo person nonchalantly, but something about the figure and the mysterious box on the creaky cart unnerved him. Red flags were going up in his head, mental alarms telling him not to trust this thing. But that wasn't even the worst of it- it was the woman who followed that made his muscles tense and his hair stand on end.

She was collected and kempt, an air of professionalism around her. But what struck him was her eyes. Not in the usual sense when a woman's eyes are striking to a man, being beautiful and attractive, seductive even. To him, her eyes were cold, dark, uncaring. They spoke no thoughts, hinted at no emotion save perhaps mild boredom. They were eyes that could see death and never change, could send a man into the void, and never think back on it after. Ardas was never a religious person, but in that moment he prayed to every god there was that this woman would not be getting on the ship with them.

"You seem... understaffed," she noted.

Ardas took another sip of coffee so he didn't have to reply, afraid his voice would crack and betray his nerves. He looked at Harry, and then to Johnny, giving a shrug that offered a wordless 'Oh well,' in reply to the woman's comment.

 

[rissa]

October 13th, 2136
1405 HOURS​

Esra Morne walked into the hangar with a military duffle swung over one shoulder and a large canvas tool bag in her other hand. She wore her usual attire; a pair of dark green coveralls, her trusty combat boots and her dad's old bomber jacket. Her long hair was tied in a knot at the top of her head, held together by two thin rods, and accented by a faded red bandana. Despite her tardiness, she wore a hesitant smile as she greeted the gathered crew. Some faces were familiar, others new and yet she greeted them all with a warm smile and a nod of her head.

"Where's the boss?" Esra inquired. "Sorry 'bout being late, had some last minute things to settle…" She glanced around the hangar, noticing the small pushcart of cargo. "Y'all ready to load her up?"

 

[Bears]

October 13th, 2136
1405.5 HOURS
​

Dr. Hawkings arrived at the hangar with her dark brown hair still damp from the cold shower she had shortly just jumped out of. It was unlike her to be late but the previous evening for her had been hell, in the toss and turn sort of way and all she could hope was her colleagues wouldn't notice the eye bags. Which was unlikely, but shit she could still hope. She was dressed simply, a tank top with a company jacket, fitted jeans, and heeled boots. Her personal belongings were all in a grey duffel that she carried in one hand and a pair of glasses hung on the tip of her nose.

Her eyes scanned the individuals who filled the room, she recognized a few and assumed they did the same. She hadn't talked to any of them in excess but knew enough to survive the trip. It would be over quickly anyhow and in the end she'd have enough extra cash to move somewhere a bit farther from her ex-husband. She said nothing as she joined the lot of them, only offering an acknowledging nod to any man or woman who noted her late arrival. ​

 

[Doctor Jax]

October 13th, 2163
1405.5 hours​

Harry took his coffee from Ardas with a nod and a point of gratitude, cherishing the rich smell of brewed beans with a great sniff and sigh. Even if it was drip-brew crap -- he'd gotten to be a bit of a coffee snob, bite him -- there was nothing like the smell of coffee to get you up and at 'em. Even crap coffee still smelled nice.

"Not a clue, brother," he said to the newcomer with the duffel. He had no idea who he was, probably another hire. Harry had been transferred to quite a few ships, so he knew about half the flight crew of Far-Out by now, though it wasn't unlikely he'd just not met this one yet. "Name's Harry, by the way, Harry Alvesson. I don't think we've met."

As he took a sip of his coffee, he heard a great thunk and he muttered under his breath, "Jesus H. Christ, what now?"

He looked to, lo and behold, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum doing their typical routine. He'd told the managers so many times that there was no point in keeping the two idiots, but they were always shortstaffed and the two were at least halfway reliable to be at work, if drunker than an Irishman on shoreleave. Of course, Ken got his panties in a twist, following after them to get rid of the booze, and Harry shook his head. He'd already given it up for a lost cause. As long as they didn't stick their hand in an extruder valve or try to lick the ion battery cases, he wasn't about to try and deny them the only thing that probably kept them sane on long trips.

Of course, the late cargo arrived, sitting on a squeaking cart and pushed by some figure -- Harry didn't care, he just cared it was on his ship -- while a woman walked at a clipped pace behind, noting the lack of staff.

"Might as well get used to it, honey," Harry said, eyeing the woman up and down, not the least perturbed by her cold demeanor or stern professionalism. "Deep space ain't exactly homey. Short-staffed just means full roster."

Not long after, their mechanic and doctor showed up, and Harry gave each one a cheerful wave.

"There's coffee if y'all want some right over that-a-way. Better nab it before Ken takes the whole pot to sober up the Hennessey Twins," Harry stated to them as they came near. To Esra's question, he said in his gravelly, smoker's voice, "I think we got a lot of it onboard. Only thing we were really missing was that payload over there. That, and the Brothers Idiot broke something in the cargo hold, so you already got something to keep you busy, I guess."

He pointed to the cart with its handler, taking another sip of his coffee.

@RiddL @rissa @BearEnthusiast @Red Thunder @Thomas McTavish

 

[Thomas McTavish]

October 13th, 2163
1407 hours​

Eager to get away from the unnerving woman and get a start on the long trip now that the cargo was on board, Ardas downed the rest of his now cooled coffee and spoke up. "That's everybody who was supposed to show yeah? Or at least everybody who was asked and we figured was gonna show?" He took a look around, making a quiet head count, nodding at each employee as he noted their respective jobs. "An overseer, a cargo watcher, a space cop, a wrench monkey, a bandaid lady, and a roguishly handsome pilot. I've made runs with fewer crew, so I'd say we're good to go."

He tossed his cup at a nearby trashcan, watching with mild disappointment as it hit the rim and bounced out before heading toward the cockpit to take his place in the cockpit. He felt at home as he sunk into the worn suede seat, his worries from earlier melting into the synthetic leather. He took the headset off its rack and put it on, linking it to the ship's comm system. Cargo on board and everyone accounted for, he was ready to ship out when Ken gave the word.

 

[RiddL]

October 13th, 2163
1408 hours

​

Johnny' eyes focused as he heard himself being referred to as a space cop. His head raised slightly and he took up a hurt expression. "I'm not a space cop... I don't eat nearly enough donuts for that, If anything I'm a space cowboy..." He said jokingly, completely at odds with the fake expression on his face.

He looked around with feigned interest at all the faces around him before saying in a semi serious tone, "Besides as far as I can tell, there's no handsome pilot around that I can see, rogue or no." He picked up his gear and slung it over a shoulder before getting onto the ship, finding a small viewing room with a chair that looked starboard out to the confines of what would soon be space.

He undid his duffel bag and removed a few of his items, a notepad with various detailed drawings of plant life and a few of the more amorous women he had met on his journeys around the place. He pulled out a rifle and a hand gun, both unloaded, along with ammunition. He put these items next to him, in arms reach before grabbing his notebook and wandering around the ship, checking to make sure that everyone was secure and ready for transit.​

 

[Bears]

October 13th, 2163
1408 hours
​

Hawkings snorted at the bandaid lady remark. Yes, she devoted a little over a decade of her life studying medicine so she could be aptly titled the purveyor of bandaids and the ship's resident healer of boo boos. She made no attempt to hide the rolling of her grey eyes though a genuine smile had found her lips following the space cowboy's exchange of words.

Crossing her arms she boarded the spacecraft after the first two men, making her way directly to the medical bay. It was smaller than her last work space but ultimately serviceable. Hawkings left her favorite pen and her glasses on the desk and dropped her bag in the corner. She'd unpack her personal stuff when she went to bed that night but for now organizing the medical bay was her top priority.

After making sure everything was to her liking she then quietly made her way towards the bridge of the ship, wondering when exactly they would be taking off.


​

 

[Red Thunder]

October 13th, 2163
1409 hours​

From where she stood at the ramp, the woman watched the exchange between crew mates with an odd detached interest. Her cigarette raised to her mouth on occasion, the red-stained filter fitting momentarily between full lips before lowering once more, and the stream of vapor that followed drifted off toward the dock's ceiling, its gray hue dispersed by the building's air filtration. One by one the workers bordered the Howard Phillips, passing by the cargo near the bottom of the ramp without so much as a second glance. An eyebrow raised, pushing together pristinely smooth skin in an almost offensive manner, yet she said nothing. She was here to accompany the cargo; Reach Out was being paid to make sure it got to its destination. So with a small snort she entered the ship herself, not awaiting the invitation, giving the crate the briefest glance as she did.

It was a reasonably common box, as common as could be expected for long distance space travel. Made of a cheap but sturdy tungsten alloy, its full gray sides were bolted together, with each nut sealed in a resin-like material to discourage tampering and the breaking of which would show evidence of it. Lastly, across the top of the box was stamped in simple was easily read letters: FOR EYES ONLY.

The woman made her way toward the ship's bridge as Ken stepped back to the top of the ramp, having bullied and threatened the twins with spacing and firing into dumping their alcohol into the disposal. Muttering to himself, he glanced up from where he was making more checks against his digital list. And he immediately began yelling.

"The fuck?! Why the fuck is the cargo on the floor of my bay and not in my goddam ship?! We're already late, you pissants! Goddamit! Kris! Erik! Get your asses out here and secure this thing! And make it fast! We leave in five!

"Everybody hear that?" he bellowed back into the freighter before stepping to the comm switch and opening the ship's channel. "We leave in five. Get your shit ready."

Yeah, 'we'. Ken felt pissed, but there wasn't any way around it. There were short one person, and he didn't have time to round up another. Grumbling to himself, he stalked out of the ship to his locker, which he yanked open with a grunt. Grabbing his emergency travel pack, he slammed the door shut and stomped back aboard, leaving the twins to handle the cargo. They watched him disappear into the ship's belly before giving each other a look of trepidation.

"Bosh shudda kep' shum for hisself," Erik muttered, pushing on the cart. Kris nodded somberly in agreement, trying to keep the crate steady with unsteady hands. But the thought of the disposed liquor was distraction, and distraction was the last thing either inebriated worker needed. The damaged wheel hit the ramp with more force than it should have, and Kris was unable to keep it steady. The cart tipped, and the crate hit the concrete floor with a solid thunk. Erik looked at Kris, wide eyed in concern. But his brother shrugged.

"Ish fine. We put i' back, they'll never know."

So they did, with a great deal of huffing and groaning, eventually even managing to get the cargo onto the ship and secured in the hold. But neither of them noticed the damage to the seal where the box had struck the ground.

@BearEnthusiast @RiddL @Thomas McTavish @Doctor Jax @rissa

 

[Doctor Jax]

October 13th, 2163
1410 hours​

As the others filtered in and generally ignored the goings-on, Harry whistled low. Huh -- tough crowd this time around. Ah, well, that was to be expected weren't it? Deep space travel usually didn't bring out the socialite in people. Even six or seven bonobos in a tin can together were gonna fight at some point, no matter how social their nature, and humans were far from being part of that better natured group of animals. Harry hit the last of his coffee and chucked the styrofoam cup into the trash.

Not too soon after, he heard Ken begin his screaming -- god, he was as bad as his ex-wife, though at least his ex-wife had the decency to stay out of his business now-- and Harry rolled his eyes, his white eyebrows flying towards his hairline. He wasn't stupid enough to think that Ken wasn't going on this trip, and that was already raising his blood pressure. The man had no idea how to relax, and it tore up Harry's nerves to think that pisser was gonna be on the ship with them, stressing everybody out for next four or five months. There wasn't really a whole lot they could do about it, but man, did he regret not bringing along a whole blister pack of Prozac.

Harry blew out a long breath as Ken made his way on, as well as the lady with the cigarette (who he watched with a less than gentle eye). He knew better than to leave Erik and Kris completely to their lonesome with the cargo and he made his way over -- just as they dropped it off the cart.

"Aaaah, come on, you two sorry idiots, don't break before we even get off the ground. Hoist it up. Yeah, there ya go, come on and let's get this thing in here already," Harry ordered, directing them to put it in a hole made out of the cargo around it. The two shoved it hard, and Harry shooed them off deeper into the ship. He had a last check to do before they left -- though knowing that they left in five did not give him much confidence. He did a cursory examination from where he stood, deciding that if something was missing that was important, it would stand out a mile. However, he saw no gaps in the walls of cargo he'd carefully constructed on paper, and thus decided all was well.

For a moment, Harry squinted at the gray box for a minute, aware that there was something not quite right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Was it sitting a little funny? Did the two break a strut? Did it have a scuff?

Deciding it really wasn't worth it to try and check -- it hadn't been labeled for any dangerous chemicals or reactants, and his manifesto said it was labeled 'safe' -- he disappeared into the ship as the doors closed behind him.

Quickly, he dropped himself into a seat, buckled himself in, and waited. He always hated the liftoff... everything could go wrong, always went wrong in liftoff...

@RiddL @rissa @BearEnthusiast @Red Thunder @Thomas McTavish

 

[Thomas McTavish]

October 13th, 2163
1413 hours
​

Ardas had heard the call that they left in five. That was four minutes ago. He spent the time going over the ships systems, gearing everything up for takeoff. The "Cargo Secure" light came on, and he took it as the cue to get things moving. Thrusters readying, pointed up for takeoff. Doors sealed, airlocks engaged. Pressure compensators active. Crew seats 1 through 6 engaged. Wait, 1 through 6? He had only counted five besides himself. Ah, well, one was probably engaged by accident or something. Nothing to worry about. The engines thrummed louder as they prepared to engage. He pressed a button on his dashboard, patching him through to the warehouse's air control center. "Foresight Launch Command, this Echo-One-Six-Two-Eight, requesting clearance for take off. Do you Copy? Over."

"This is Foresight Launch Command, we hear you loud and clear, Echo-One-Six-Two-Eight. Clearance granted, your path to the exosphere and beyond is clear. Bay doors opening, you may leave when ready. Over."

"Roger, Foresight Launch Command, Echo-One-Six-Two-Eight taking off. Over and out." He pressed the button again, cancelling communications. He gripped the steering module tightly, exhaling deeply. He pulled them back, and the ship lifted from the ground. Further, and it began to climb. Higher and higher, it rose up through the opening bay doors in the roof. As he cleared the building, he pulled back further, speeding their ascent greatly. Turbulence shook the ship. Ardas hit the ship comm on his headset.

"Good afternoon everybody, this is your pilot speaking. It's a gorgeous October day out today. Skies are clear, winds are low, and we're about to leave the planet's troposphere. As a fair warning, I'm going to let you all know that I'm about to adjust the ships position to make our ascent easier and faster. So don't freak out like last time, Harry. Adjust in three... two..." He cut the headset feed, using the controls to re-position the ship's chassis to point upward directly up. As they broke through to the stratosphere, Ardas gunned the engines. They rose higher and higher, faster and faster, shaking the ship violently. Finally, it stopped as they left the exosphere. Ardas hit the comms once again.

"Attention crew, this is your pilot speaking. We have officially left Earth's atmosphere, and are now in space. If you look out the windows to your right or left, you can see the all-devouring void of the infinite. Our journey to Pluto is underway. The artificial gravity should be kicking in momentarily. After that, feel free to get up and explore the ship, personalize your quarters, change your pants, what have you. Thanks again for choosing Hellbound Asshats United Airlines. Over and out."