Intro
Space. Always has been and always will be a mysterious place that is full of secrets and dangers, no matter how long mankind or any alien species explore it. Today was one of those dangerous days. The Cutlass, Lucky Buck, roared through the scraps of completely destroyed Javelin and it’s small support fleet, it’s jury-rigged Origin 300 engines and various directional thrusters blasting as it weaved and dodged with the light dancing on it’s silver hull when light touched it. Having arrived due to an urgent distress beacon they had been greeted by a squad of Vanduul Scythes. They had managed to take out all but one, and it was currently chasing them through the wreckage.
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, RICK! Could you line up the bloody shot and kill ‘em already?” Roared a loud Australian female voice through Rick’s comm system..
“I’m working on it! Though if you could have the captain to get us out of this debris field then MAYBE I can land a shot instead of shooting scraps of Javelin hull!” He yelled back as he fired towards the very persistent Scythe.
The fleet that had scrapped the Jav was long gone, but a small group of fighters had stayed behind to wait for anyone who responded to the distress signal. Suddenly he felt a lurch as the Buck lurched in a direction that he considered up with a spiral and strafe. He despised those flashy fighter style maneuvers, but it did the trick as the debris field started to thin and the Scythe became a clearer target. “Gotcha ya little shit!” He fired his cannons and felt a smile grow as the shield appeared and suddenly broke from the barrage. Finally it broke apart and made a satisfying explosion. He looked at his radar and saw nothing as he commed the pilot, “Hey, Ali, anything showing on your radar?”
For a moment there was silence, then an older female voice came over. “All clear Rick, you can come down and get a break. Just stay away from Jessi, she is a bit upset that you started to overheat the turret system again. Said something about the coolant line busting?” He groaned, as he pressed the switch to lower him down. That was the sixth time that had happened in two weeks, and last time Jessi had almost beat him sideways with a wrench.
He came down facing the cockpit door to be greeted by a very angry, short and thin Australian covered in coolant and grease, wrench in hand. Her spacesuit’s top was wrapped around her waist, exposing a loosely fitting shirt that bared the midriff and had no sleeves revealing tattoos only a knucklebuster would have. If not for the wrench, grease and coolant she’d look like she was about to go to a classic punk party with her multi-colored hair and goggles sitting on her forehead, a large vambrace on her right arm, and long dead glowstick bracelets around the mobiglas on her left arm. Both her hands bared thick mechanic’s gloves.
Rick started to get up and apologize before he was quickly silenced by the wrench suddenly appearing before his face. “Don’t. Say. A. Word. You are going to take this bloody thing and finish repairing that damn coolant line. If I see duct tape or adhesive of any kind other than what is supposed to go there, I will change my title from master technician to amateur brain surgeon. Got it?”
Rick nodded and slowly grabbed the wrench as if taking meat from a wild animal. Jessi stormed away – as much as one can for less than under a meter, swearing under her breath as she went to the small kitchenette on the starboard side that had been crammed into the ship – along with many other non-stock Cutlass accessories. It didn’t take long for Rick to find the leak as he saw something drip where Jessi had just been standing. Thankfully the valve was already closed as he popped open one of the stock passenger benches; perhaps the only thing stock DRAKE besides the hull itself. As he climbed up onto it, he felt the ship jerk slightly as the engines rotated to position to stop the vessel.
The cockpit hatch opened not too long after, as the pilot/captain walked out of the vessel with a thermos in hand. Shorter than Rick by a few inches, she sported an old weathered brown leather jacket over her suit which was an old khaki standard DRAKE affair which she filled out well. Her worn face and peppered hair in a bun gave her a stern look but her eyes were soft. Alisa looked up at Rick and smirked. “Ah so she didn’t kill you, huh? Figured she’d at least crack your helmet.” Rick shook his head in disdain causing her to chuckle. She took a small sip out of her drink and walked over to Jessi who was just starting to slap together a simple Vegemite and toast.
Alisa ruffled up the slightly grown pixie cut hair on Jessi’s head, “So, getting that anger problem sorted, Jessica? Rick doesn’t seem like he just got shell-shocked this time around.” Jessi huffed as she slapped the paste on the cold stale toast. “ I’ll just take that as a yes then. So any other reports other than the dreaded coolant line problem?”
Jessi put down the knife and took a bite, swallowing before speaking, “The shield system is running hot, probably needs to be replaced, went down a few times. The hull seems to be in good shape, but we need to be grounded so I can give ‘er a good look over. Also the engines have been fluctuating, think it’s just a power distribution issue from the shields starting to overheat and the turret getting most o’ the juice. So if we can change the shields soon and maybe change a few capacitors, we should be right as rain.”
Alisa rubbed her chin in contemplation. “Hmm, that is gonna have to come out of the Max savings. Might put us back a few months. Go ahead and see what’s available in the Centauri system. We’ve got to head to Saisei to pick up a package anyway. Hope you got the program in the ship’s system so we don’t upset the environmentalists.”
Jessi almost choked on her piece of toast, “After the last time? I spent almost a month of solid work on that thing and you know it. It should be able to pass almost any test you put it through. But we have to fix that leak first, they so much as sniff that coolant we’ll have a fine so high it’d be cheaper to buy a Taurus.”
The old pilot chuckled as she walked towards the front, “Don’t fret too much I’m sure you and Rick will get it sorted quickly. I’ll go ahead and set the course. Just let me know when everything is ready for a QJ.”
“Alright Cap’n. Rick, here’s a clamp, I’m taking a nap,” She threw him a sizable clamp from a small box by the kitchenette and went to a hammock on the other side of the ship and plopped down.
Rick sighed, “Gonna be one of those weeks.”
