splintered reality - part four

The ship looked fast, but that was only because it was fast…astoundingly fast, amazingly fast, stupendously fast…at least at sub-light speeds. At hyper light speeds? Well, that was another matter altogether. At hyper-light speeds it was like pushing an elephant across the rug on its nose. It was lucky if it could make a jump to the end of the docking bay let alone to the end of solar system. For all that, it was still impressive. True, next to the big Caladari military ships, such as the Scorpion class battleship in the bay just opposite, the ship could have been a gnat on same said elephant’s backside.

But it was all hers.

Every pirate that was “retired”, and due to the very nature of the business that was damn few, had a bit of something extra set aside. Usually most pirates found themselves forcibly retired, and quite often out an airlock.

The frigate had cost her most of what she had set aside. It had an overcharged hydrocarbon microwarpdrive and an overdrive injection system. However it also had a nanofiber hull and bulkheads. Very light, but very fragile. Basically a very fast egg that could make the jump to hyperspace. It was a modified Amarrii frigate, executioner class.

It floated in the docking bay like two gleaming golden fangs held together by a cramped passenger compartment. The ships principal, and at least for the time being, only occupant squeezed herself into the pilots acceleration couch. It was a tight fit for her six foot one frame at best. Normally frigates of this size were a bit more roomy. The modifications however, took up a great deal of the passenger quarters. The result was a ship that, rather than being something you got IN to was more properly viewed as something you put on, like a shoe – a very fast, very expensive shoe.

Gunny…no, she thought to herself, not Gunny. That part of her life was over (or so she thought at the time). New life, new name she thought. Back to being “Sam” like her mum used to call her.

“Dear old mum,” she said aloud to no one in particular as she looked around the interior of the frigate, “God bless her weasly, thieving, black heart.”

The passenger compartment was very Spartan, but then, so was her pilot. Two people could comfortably bunk inside. That is, if they were the sort of people to whom comfort meant sleeping on cold nonofiber and using the bulkhead for a pillow and having to open the engine compartment to have a place to stick your feet – which, Sam did have to do, being as tall as she was. Indeed, her mother had often told her that if she didn’t have so much body turned down for feet, she would have been another foot taller. It was, in fact, these same large feet that required specially made boots. The boots, like the ship were terribly expensive, and difficult to find. They were, she said to herself, the same boots that she would put up the back end of the person, whomever he or she was, that was currently pounding on the hull of her frigate.

Several agonizingly uncomfortable, body twisting moments, that would have made any contortionist proud, she managed to race to the hatchway. She peered out the portal to find out what in blue blazes was so urgent that whomever it was, needed to pound so hard that she thought they would pound their way through.

Unable to see who it was she popped open the hatch to find the source of the pounding, which stopped the moment the hatch opened.

The source of the pounding was Will Littlefoot, whom appeared “fit to be tied” as grandmother used to say; and the way Sam felt about Will at this point, she would be more than happy to oblige him. Before she could voice any objection, Will launched into a tirade over whatever it was he felt was worth having a tirade over.

“You said the ship was gone!” he screamed.

She was about to answer what turned out to be a rhetorical question, for it would soon become obvious that her former executive officer felt he had the answer to his own question. Like an ill wind that blew no good, she felt it was best just to wait out the storm – storm Littlefoot.

“You said the ship was gone! he screamed again needlessly.

It was needless for two reasons. Initially for the fact that Sam had heard him in the first place (as indeed had most of this end of the docking bay and, she thought idly, perhaps anyone who may be on the planets surface below them may have as well) The second reason was that she had expected this conversation, but just not so soon. She let “Hurricane Littlefoot” blow on.

“You said the ship was gone, but I just saw it in docking bay eleven. It isn’t gone, its just been moved. What are you trying to pull? What is going on?”

“I said…she said pausing before she continued, that the ship was gone and so it is. I didn’t say it actually went anywhere. It is “gone” in the sense that is no longer a mining ship, and no longer under the command of Brighde Blackfoot.”

“You aren’t going to get to be first officer that easy. Are you just trying to get rid of me?”, said Will.

“Yes. As a matter of fact I thought I had, came the reply. That is until you came pounding on my hull like some deranged maniac pounding on the gates of hell trying to get out. And if I had wanted to get rid of you to be first officer I would have killed you and put the dead body out an airlock and…”

Here Will tried to cut her off, but Sam would have none of it and raised her voice over his as she continued.

“…AND, she said,. I certainly would have tried to get Brighde to not sell the ship.”