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Nostalgia for Infinity - Sarah McFarlen - 06-06-2015
Nostalgia for Infinity
![[Image: 9od8R4L.jpg]](http://i.imgur.com/9od8R4L.jpg)
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
T.S Elliot, Little Gidding
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
T.S Elliot, Little Gidding
Sparks
Sparks was leaving home. Again. Duffel bag slung over one shoulder, hand on the stap, datapad hanging loose in the other, and a universe of possibilities rolling out ahead of her. The bag was mostly clothes, a handful of old-school access codes and backups nestled between layers of rumpled coats and a flightsuit that was a size too small for her height and about three too big across the shoulders. Not much, for an engineer who'd once floated between the reactors of a cruiser.
Still, Sparks was smiling as she settled her account at the dingy coffin hotel that had been her home the past two weeks. Good thing she was, too. The terminal cheerfully flashed her remaining balance as the receptionist fumbled with her card. It wouldn't have covered another two days, even at the baseline bed-and-a-communal-bathroom deal she'd been living in.
Lucky it wouldn't have to. If Leslie stuck to the offer.
Heisenberg's corridors were the usual mess of research staff, shady freelancers and outright criminals. If she'd had a magnifying glass and public records access, she might even have been able to tell them apart. Sparks wasn't entirely sure the categories mattered any more. Wasn't quite sure which one she fell into if they did. What did matter, all that mattered, was that she was moving again and, for now at least, anything was possible.
She weaved her way through the mid-morning crowd to the station's terminal – not the hangar itself. That was crew only and, it was strange to remember, right now she was crew of exactly nothing. The terminal couldn't have been further from the cheap cafes and fifteen-credit-a-night dives she'd spent the last couple of weeks frequenting. Shining chrome competed with subdued plastic curves and holo-vids dancing across the walls, a psychedelic combination of the garish and the modern. Sparks stood blinking at this centuries-old ideal of the future as an attendant with perfect teeth smiled up at her from behind a desk.
“Hermes, ma'am?” The attendant extended a hand for a ticket. Sparks blinked at her. The attendant hastily continued. “It's heading for Hamburg in two hours.”
“Er, no. Sorry. I'm here for Adventure Galley.” Sparks tilted her head toward the datapad, struggling to pull up the ship information with one hand. Bound for who-knows-where. The mystery was remarkably liberating. “Captain Leslie Durant?” Sparks prompted.
“Oh.” Manicured fingernails danced across the keypad. Sparks idly wondered where she found the time to re-do them, felt suddenly scruffy with her sponge-washed hair and salvaged clothes. “Is that an independent ship?”
“Yeah, that's the one.” Sparks nodded.
“You'll want bay three, then.” The attendant stood, craned out a little from her desk and extended an arm down the corridor. “Just down there. Keep going until you get to the mess and it's on your right. If you hit the recycling plant you've gone too far.”
Sparks made her excuses and staggered off down the offered corridor, bag over one shoulder. Bay three was, to put it politely, unrefined. There was no smiling attendant to greet her, and the only vid was the CNS flickering against the far wall. Sparks waved her datapad in front of the check-in drone and ignored its half-hearted attempts to convince her to check-in her bags. Eventually, the drone drifted off to other tasks. Same old story. Station security didn't really care about what you were taking off Heisenberg, just as long as you were careful or quiet with what you bought in. Different faces for the corporates and the drifters.
The old disparity was almost as reassuring as the false stars flickering on the station's digital windows. Sparks shoved the bag under her seat and settled down to wait.
Still, Sparks was smiling as she settled her account at the dingy coffin hotel that had been her home the past two weeks. Good thing she was, too. The terminal cheerfully flashed her remaining balance as the receptionist fumbled with her card. It wouldn't have covered another two days, even at the baseline bed-and-a-communal-bathroom deal she'd been living in.
Lucky it wouldn't have to. If Leslie stuck to the offer.
Heisenberg's corridors were the usual mess of research staff, shady freelancers and outright criminals. If she'd had a magnifying glass and public records access, she might even have been able to tell them apart. Sparks wasn't entirely sure the categories mattered any more. Wasn't quite sure which one she fell into if they did. What did matter, all that mattered, was that she was moving again and, for now at least, anything was possible.
She weaved her way through the mid-morning crowd to the station's terminal – not the hangar itself. That was crew only and, it was strange to remember, right now she was crew of exactly nothing. The terminal couldn't have been further from the cheap cafes and fifteen-credit-a-night dives she'd spent the last couple of weeks frequenting. Shining chrome competed with subdued plastic curves and holo-vids dancing across the walls, a psychedelic combination of the garish and the modern. Sparks stood blinking at this centuries-old ideal of the future as an attendant with perfect teeth smiled up at her from behind a desk.
“Hermes, ma'am?” The attendant extended a hand for a ticket. Sparks blinked at her. The attendant hastily continued. “It's heading for Hamburg in two hours.”
“Er, no. Sorry. I'm here for Adventure Galley.” Sparks tilted her head toward the datapad, struggling to pull up the ship information with one hand. Bound for who-knows-where. The mystery was remarkably liberating. “Captain Leslie Durant?” Sparks prompted.
“Oh.” Manicured fingernails danced across the keypad. Sparks idly wondered where she found the time to re-do them, felt suddenly scruffy with her sponge-washed hair and salvaged clothes. “Is that an independent ship?”
“Yeah, that's the one.” Sparks nodded.
“You'll want bay three, then.” The attendant stood, craned out a little from her desk and extended an arm down the corridor. “Just down there. Keep going until you get to the mess and it's on your right. If you hit the recycling plant you've gone too far.”
Sparks made her excuses and staggered off down the offered corridor, bag over one shoulder. Bay three was, to put it politely, unrefined. There was no smiling attendant to greet her, and the only vid was the CNS flickering against the far wall. Sparks waved her datapad in front of the check-in drone and ignored its half-hearted attempts to convince her to check-in her bags. Eventually, the drone drifted off to other tasks. Same old story. Station security didn't really care about what you were taking off Heisenberg, just as long as you were careful or quiet with what you bought in. Different faces for the corporates and the drifters.
The old disparity was almost as reassuring as the false stars flickering on the station's digital windows. Sparks shoved the bag under her seat and settled down to wait.
RE: Nostalgia for Infinity - Leslie Durant - 06-06-2015
The Adventure Galley slid into Heisenberg's Dock with all the elegance of a drugged Rhino. The large Serenity class vessel wavered hesitantly for a moment, before settling down on Pad four, firing a brief gust of wind in all directions. An observant eye would note that the ship's hull was pockmarked and dented in several places, likely from deep-space travel. Apart from those marks of wear, the ship was in good study, and above all, looked sturdy. It powered down for what seemed like minutes, as landing check procedures were completed. Afterwards, rear cargo bay doors opened with only a slight sound of protest, ramps hitting the ground with a thud. This was followed by a side-door opening and a tall, petite woman stepping out.
She kept her auburn hair neatly trimmed, for convenience as well as looks. Somewhat taller than average, her attire was fairly modest. A black jacket went over a tired brown sweater, with faded jeans to complete the impression of a sloppy but practical person. She stretched out languorously for a moment, waiting for the dock-master to pepper her with questions. As expected, a balding man whose working uniform seemed like it was too small for him approached. Leslie cocked her head and smiled.
"I heard word that you were running a little low on some basic materials. Cargo's in the back, take it at your leisure," She said, handing over a pad with her ship's manifest data. The Master spent only a moment cursorily checking the list before nodding sourly.
"Is that paid for?" He asked. Leslie's grin grew wider.
"Naturally. I sorted that out with station beforehand."
The Master shrugged and turned to leave, but Leslie waved him back.
"Have this. On the house." She tossed a carton of Cigarettes at him, which he caught deftly. The sourness in his expression did not disappear, but did fade considerably. Leslie nodded and waved him off, looking for a place to sit near her ship so she could watch the unloading process.
And wait for my first employee. Possibly.
That thought was odd to her, she'd never thought that her little business would ever recoup it's losses, much less succeed to the point of hiring other people. She tried not to think too much about it, nothing was finalized yet after all. Should be very interesting in any case.
While she considered this, Station Traffic Control went on air and announced the arrival of the Adventure Galley, an unaffiliated ship in the dock. Control did not make any mention of a time of departure, that was privileged information known to no-one. Not even Leslie herself.
RE: Nostalgia for Infinity - Sarah McFarlen - 06-09-2015
Sparks
Something wasn't right. Sparks frowned at her datapad, as though she could drag information from the figures dancing across the screen by sheer force of will. Satellite readouts scrolled across the screen; orbital periods and inclinations etched in monochrome, reactor outputs and fuel levels all available at a tap. Admittedly, the information was days-old; collected and piggybacked inter-system on friendly freighters. Sparks barely had the credits to cover her hotel bill. She certainly didn't have the funds or inclination to procure FTL comms on a scale suitable for a low-tech relay, and neither had the Widerstand. At least, if they had, they hadn't shared it with her. Sparks was beginning to suspect there was a lot that she hadn't been privy to.
The signals her satellites were spitting out, for example. Alright. Technically they belonged to Klugmann's Widerstand, insofar as anyone could own a satellite that legally had about as much right to exist as the resistance movement did. After two years fighting to keep the temperamental things alive, though, Sparks couldn't help but regard them as hers. The fact her access codes still worked was probably the satellite's way of reciprocating. Either that, or no-one had bothered to rotate the passwords. Sparks preferred to believe the former. Call me a romantic.
Comms traffic on her own little portion of the Frankfurt underground had stepped up to a level on-par with a small-time media outlet. Nothing overwhelming, nothing like a mobilisation, but coming from the normally secretive Widerstand it was definitely out of character. Laser communications weren't exactly easy to intercept - almost impossible, unless you went and physically put your own receiver between the sender and destination, and there was enough empty space out there that the odds of that happening by accident were close enough to zero to make a hardened gambler cash in her chips rather than chance it. Discovery was possible, though. There were other ways to catch out a chatty satellite, if not the messages it was sending, if you were patient and watchful enough. Nowhere near likely, but just possible enough that you didn't risk sending something that didn't need to be sent.
"So why the conversation all of a sudden?" Sparks wasn't reading the messages. Not out of politeness - the lords and ladies of the Widerstand hadn't seen fit to include those particular access codes on her terminal. She'd been a wrench monkey, not a spy. Couldn't say she blamed them, considering how things had turned out. She could see the systems reports, the strength and duration of the bursts the satellites spat out, but they could have been love letters and shopping lists for all that told her. Except that even the most doe-eyed romantics didn't usually run the risk of a military fleet for the sake of a few pleasantries.
Someone in Frankfurt was in a hurry to get the word out. If only she knew what the word was.
The static crackle of the station intercom dragged her back to the present. Sparks recognised the brisk tone of the corporate attendant, cheerfully wishing the terminals' inhabitants a good morning and informing them that the unaffiliated transport Adventure Galley had arrived on pad four. She neglected to mention the ship's departure time. Odd. Leslie had struck her as the sort of woman who wouldn't want to waste time sticking around in port any longer than she had to.
Sparks shrugged and scooped her bag out from under the seat. It wouldn't be the first time she called personality wrong and, unless she really was miles off and she'd inadvertently signed on with the BDM, it probably wouldn't be the last. She frowned, closed the satellite read-outs and keyed the Adventure Galley's details in to the hangar bay doors.
Hangar bays were possessed of the same sort of strange ubiquity that was otherwise found only in shopping centres and certain kinds of antique store. Once you stepped inside, you stopped being aboard Heisenberg or Manhattan or Detroit or wherever else it was you actually were, and you started being inside a hangar bay. Heisinberg's was no exception. Save for the tentative gravity tugging her back down, she could have been on any station in the colonies.
Mid-tonnage transports dominated the limited space; a pair of Albatrosses, a single battered Serenity, and a handful of corporate 'midders dwarfed the smaller freighters and single-person fighters that lurked on the far side of the hangar like unwelcome squatters. A Pelican armoured transport with Hermes emblazoned on her hull like a tattoo settled to a halt further down the flight line in a puff of compressed gas, landing gear extending like the limbs of some great metal insect.
Sparks couldn't help but smile at the sight. For all their age and mismatched capabilities, every ship ahead of her was a marvel in its own right, a triumph of human ingenuity and determination. Every battered panel and humming drive testament to fragile flesh and steel that had dared to pit itself against the cold laws and vast distances of the universe and, somehow, miraculously come out on top. It was like stepping in to a story, like stepping into a church. Sparks allowed herself another minute of mute observation before she reluctantly turned away and descended the steel stairs to the hangar floor, bag zipper biting at her back.
Adventure Galley was an old Serenity-class, a middle-line transport at the middle of her life. Dented about the nose and bow, paint peeling a little around the points of impact, but not enough to break the ship's skin. Sparks was a little glad to see the dents. Out here an undamaged ship usually meant a new one; and a new ship meant either a green captain or one that got ships killed. Captains that killed ships tended to kill crews, and often had the same cavalier attitude to replacing them. The Galley's rear ramps were down, trolleys trundling back and forth as dockworkers and drones began the laborious process of dragging the ship's cargo somewhere the heavy machinery could reach it, cranes and brick-like cargo lighters waiting to distribute the Galley's payload wherever it was needed. Sparks spared a moment wondering what was in the neatly-stacked plastic crates and decided to leave well enough alone. The port authorities didn't seem unduly concerned, and that was about as close to an endorsement for the Serenity's captain as she was going to get. The woman herself, Sparks noted, was standing a feet back from the unloading process, watching the dockworkers as they want about their work. Sparks raised a hand in greeting and made her way over.
”Hi skipper.” Sparks smiled and tried to bite back her nerves. Tried not to look like it was this job or sleeping in the corridor. Leslie Durant was taller than she'd looked on the comms, tall enough to be one of the few women that looked Sparks in the eye. Slender, without the stretched thinness that came from years in low gravity. Auburn hair, a few shades lighter than Sparks', was cut short and tidy. Not quite a military cut, but close enough that Sparks caught herself checking for an ID. The captain of the Adventure Galley wore a simple jacket and sweater, jeans that looked as though they'd seen better days. All in all, she had a lot in common with her ship. A little untidy, but it was the sort of disorder that came with use. Sparks was glad of that. It would have been embarrassing to turn up in her t-shirt and cargo pants to meet a captain wearing a suit. It would have also probably been a solid indicator that the business relationship was going nowhere but backwards.
”I'm Sparks.” No, really. She'll think you're just that other engineer she offered a job to. Sparks forced a grin and forged on, jerked her head back to the viewing platform and terminals behind her. ”Welcome to sunny Heisenberg. Nice of you to come on out. We're not exactly a tourist hotspot, but if you've got a thing for solar collectors, sealed lab doors, and skippy gravity you've come to the right place. If you don't, I might have some bad news.”
Sparks' accent carried a twinge of Libertonian, though she pronounced Heisenberg like a native. Alexander would have been proud of her. Well, would have been proud of her if he didn't think she was an exile and a traitor. Making friends wherever she went, that was her. She nodded towards the serenity as another drone rumbled past, a load of crates atop it. ”And this is the good ship Adventure Galley, right?”
The signals her satellites were spitting out, for example. Alright. Technically they belonged to Klugmann's Widerstand, insofar as anyone could own a satellite that legally had about as much right to exist as the resistance movement did. After two years fighting to keep the temperamental things alive, though, Sparks couldn't help but regard them as hers. The fact her access codes still worked was probably the satellite's way of reciprocating. Either that, or no-one had bothered to rotate the passwords. Sparks preferred to believe the former. Call me a romantic.
Comms traffic on her own little portion of the Frankfurt underground had stepped up to a level on-par with a small-time media outlet. Nothing overwhelming, nothing like a mobilisation, but coming from the normally secretive Widerstand it was definitely out of character. Laser communications weren't exactly easy to intercept - almost impossible, unless you went and physically put your own receiver between the sender and destination, and there was enough empty space out there that the odds of that happening by accident were close enough to zero to make a hardened gambler cash in her chips rather than chance it. Discovery was possible, though. There were other ways to catch out a chatty satellite, if not the messages it was sending, if you were patient and watchful enough. Nowhere near likely, but just possible enough that you didn't risk sending something that didn't need to be sent.
"So why the conversation all of a sudden?" Sparks wasn't reading the messages. Not out of politeness - the lords and ladies of the Widerstand hadn't seen fit to include those particular access codes on her terminal. She'd been a wrench monkey, not a spy. Couldn't say she blamed them, considering how things had turned out. She could see the systems reports, the strength and duration of the bursts the satellites spat out, but they could have been love letters and shopping lists for all that told her. Except that even the most doe-eyed romantics didn't usually run the risk of a military fleet for the sake of a few pleasantries.
Someone in Frankfurt was in a hurry to get the word out. If only she knew what the word was.
The static crackle of the station intercom dragged her back to the present. Sparks recognised the brisk tone of the corporate attendant, cheerfully wishing the terminals' inhabitants a good morning and informing them that the unaffiliated transport Adventure Galley had arrived on pad four. She neglected to mention the ship's departure time. Odd. Leslie had struck her as the sort of woman who wouldn't want to waste time sticking around in port any longer than she had to.
Sparks shrugged and scooped her bag out from under the seat. It wouldn't be the first time she called personality wrong and, unless she really was miles off and she'd inadvertently signed on with the BDM, it probably wouldn't be the last. She frowned, closed the satellite read-outs and keyed the Adventure Galley's details in to the hangar bay doors.
Hangar bays were possessed of the same sort of strange ubiquity that was otherwise found only in shopping centres and certain kinds of antique store. Once you stepped inside, you stopped being aboard Heisenberg or Manhattan or Detroit or wherever else it was you actually were, and you started being inside a hangar bay. Heisinberg's was no exception. Save for the tentative gravity tugging her back down, she could have been on any station in the colonies.
Mid-tonnage transports dominated the limited space; a pair of Albatrosses, a single battered Serenity, and a handful of corporate 'midders dwarfed the smaller freighters and single-person fighters that lurked on the far side of the hangar like unwelcome squatters. A Pelican armoured transport with Hermes emblazoned on her hull like a tattoo settled to a halt further down the flight line in a puff of compressed gas, landing gear extending like the limbs of some great metal insect.
Sparks couldn't help but smile at the sight. For all their age and mismatched capabilities, every ship ahead of her was a marvel in its own right, a triumph of human ingenuity and determination. Every battered panel and humming drive testament to fragile flesh and steel that had dared to pit itself against the cold laws and vast distances of the universe and, somehow, miraculously come out on top. It was like stepping in to a story, like stepping into a church. Sparks allowed herself another minute of mute observation before she reluctantly turned away and descended the steel stairs to the hangar floor, bag zipper biting at her back.
Adventure Galley was an old Serenity-class, a middle-line transport at the middle of her life. Dented about the nose and bow, paint peeling a little around the points of impact, but not enough to break the ship's skin. Sparks was a little glad to see the dents. Out here an undamaged ship usually meant a new one; and a new ship meant either a green captain or one that got ships killed. Captains that killed ships tended to kill crews, and often had the same cavalier attitude to replacing them. The Galley's rear ramps were down, trolleys trundling back and forth as dockworkers and drones began the laborious process of dragging the ship's cargo somewhere the heavy machinery could reach it, cranes and brick-like cargo lighters waiting to distribute the Galley's payload wherever it was needed. Sparks spared a moment wondering what was in the neatly-stacked plastic crates and decided to leave well enough alone. The port authorities didn't seem unduly concerned, and that was about as close to an endorsement for the Serenity's captain as she was going to get. The woman herself, Sparks noted, was standing a feet back from the unloading process, watching the dockworkers as they want about their work. Sparks raised a hand in greeting and made her way over.
”Hi skipper.” Sparks smiled and tried to bite back her nerves. Tried not to look like it was this job or sleeping in the corridor. Leslie Durant was taller than she'd looked on the comms, tall enough to be one of the few women that looked Sparks in the eye. Slender, without the stretched thinness that came from years in low gravity. Auburn hair, a few shades lighter than Sparks', was cut short and tidy. Not quite a military cut, but close enough that Sparks caught herself checking for an ID. The captain of the Adventure Galley wore a simple jacket and sweater, jeans that looked as though they'd seen better days. All in all, she had a lot in common with her ship. A little untidy, but it was the sort of disorder that came with use. Sparks was glad of that. It would have been embarrassing to turn up in her t-shirt and cargo pants to meet a captain wearing a suit. It would have also probably been a solid indicator that the business relationship was going nowhere but backwards.
”I'm Sparks.” No, really. She'll think you're just that other engineer she offered a job to. Sparks forced a grin and forged on, jerked her head back to the viewing platform and terminals behind her. ”Welcome to sunny Heisenberg. Nice of you to come on out. We're not exactly a tourist hotspot, but if you've got a thing for solar collectors, sealed lab doors, and skippy gravity you've come to the right place. If you don't, I might have some bad news.”
Sparks' accent carried a twinge of Libertonian, though she pronounced Heisenberg like a native. Alexander would have been proud of her. Well, would have been proud of her if he didn't think she was an exile and a traitor. Making friends wherever she went, that was her. She nodded towards the serenity as another drone rumbled past, a load of crates atop it. ”And this is the good ship Adventure Galley, right?”
RE: Nostalgia for Infinity - Leslie Durant - 06-09-2015
Leslie inclined her head, giving her potential employee a critical look.
"You're taller and prettier than I expected."
She smiled widely, extending a hand.
"Leslie Durant. Glad to meet you."
Unlike Sparks, Leslie's Libertonian accent was broad and clearly evident to anyone with ears. She nodded, alternating her attention between the unloading process and Sparks. She analyzed her initial perceptions. She seems to be a little introverted, but the look fits someone who has been in space for a while. So she'll have more than enough experience for the job. So I'll just need to find out if she's someone I can work with.
Sparks was speaking. Leslie returned her attention to her.
"As it turns out, I don't have a thing for solar collectors or labs," She said, smiling again. Leslie knew she had a natural smile, a trait which put almost everyone at ease with her. Besides, it felt good to stay just a slight touch amused at the world, it helped to cope with some of the darker realities the universe had to offer. She wondered what kind of story Sparks would tell. Highly experienced engineers were a prized commodity, and finding one without a job was unheard of. Something had happened, without a doubt.
"Luckily for me, Administrator over here had a quota of some essentials he needed met quickly, so I managed to cover expenses at least." She gestured at the ship, where the unloading process continued, the sounds of trolleys and cranes interrupted by an occasional loud curse, mostly in Rheinlander. "Mostly rations and oxygen, with a dash of optronics and some other parts."
She didn't care too much for the specifics, Heisenberg's Administrator had supplied a detailed inventory of what he needed, and she'd followed it.
Looking at the Galley, she positively beamed with pride.
"Yeah, that's the one. My home and my livelihood. And I hope, soon it'll be yours as well. Do you like the name?"
It was hardly an original name. But it was a perfect reflection of what Leslie expected when she'd first started off her career, and despite setbacks and several introductions with reality, her hope remained. There were interesting people to be met, adventures to be had. And this ship would carry her to all to them. She looked back at Sparks, thinking for a few moments as she finalized the details in her mind.
"Here's the plan, Sparks. Normally I'd take you to a conference room or something so we could have our little talk, but I imagine Heisenberg is not huge on basic amenities like that. So we're going to have our discussion on my ship. After that, I'll look for some business around this place. I doubt there will be any, but running empty is pretty much a cardinal sin when you're me."
She cocked her head, smile fading.
"Even if the interview does not go in your favor, I'll still drop you off somewhere that isn't the middle of nowhere. Barrier Gate, probably. I can do that much at least."
Her smile returned.
"I don't expect that'll happen."
With that said, she brought up a data-pad and entered an unlock sequence. The Galley opened it's cockpit doors in response, and Leslie rushed Sparks in.
On most civilian cargo ships, space is at a premium, and this ship was no exception. The cockpit basically had two terminals and two seats, with a bare minimum of walking room between them. Leslie gestured Sparks into one of those seats, while she fiddled with a contraption installed in a corner. After a few moments, she returned bringing two cups filled with a hot liquid, handing one to Sparks.
"There you go, somewhat proper Coffee. When you're basically flying solo, you need coffee that...uh, actually works," She said, grinning.
A few minutes passed in silence. Presently, Leslie set her cup down and swiveled in her chair to face Sparks.
"Let's get this started then. I do have a lot of questions I'll need answered, but let's start with the easy ones."
Her smile faded entirely, as she entered what she mentally called 'Business Mode'. She focused on Sparks.
"Firstly, what's your real name? I mean, Sparks is a pretty good moniker...but I'd like to know. "
She rubbed her nose for a moment, in speculation.
"Apart from that, just tell me about your qualifications, and where you got them. Try not to leave anything out, you're making a sales pitch here."
Her winning smile returned for a moment.
"Make sure it's a good one, I really want to hire you."
RE: Nostalgia for Infinity - Sarah McFarlen - 06-10-2015
Sparks
Sparks grinned up at the ship as Leslie introduced the Galley, the pride in the captain's voice as plain as day. She spoke as though she was talking about a child, and her enthusiasm was so contagious Sparks couldn't help but smile along with her. Leslie calling her pretty didn't hurt. Compliments were scarce living alone. She had to take what she got.
"She's beautiful." Sparks breathed, and meant it. She craned her head to look up at the serenity's silent engine pods, comms arrays poking out from the ship's spine like steel scales. How far had those engines carried her? How many suns had cast their light on that hull? With a jolt, Sparks realised that Leslie was still talking to her. Right. Job interview. "I love the name. It's a good fit for her.”
She nodded up at the serenity, glanced from the ship to her captain. "She doesn't look like an Invincible or Voidrunner, or anything high-and-mighty like that. Adventure Galley suits what she does. Always seemed a little arrogant to me, naming ships Invincible, anyway. Flying around in an Invincible's got to be like sticking a karmic 'kick me' sign on your back.”
Leslie was waiting politely for her to finish, lips curled in a smile. The woman was remarkably calm for someone running solo between the stars. Sparks couldn't help but wonder if she had been like that, before she'd gone and got herself dragged into politics. At any rate, she was getting out of it now. If I get the job. She mentally kicked herself and let the captain continue.
"Sure, the ship's fine. I mean, I'd like to see the interior beforehand anyway. May as well do it now." Might as well kill two birds with one stone. Stone, in this case, being a multi-million credit starship. "Normally I'd invite you back to the hotel for a chat, but I don't think we'd both be able to squeeze into the room. Like you said, not huge on amenities here." Like space. Space station. Hah.
Sparks' grin vanished at Leslie's mention of returning her to Barrier Gate. The independent station was a hive, in the best and worst senses of the word, as much a home to the great and good as to the wicked and wise. Barrier Gate didn't care who you were or where you came from, as long as you came with credits in your pockets. Somehow, Sparks doubted the near-empty credstick in her pocket would get her much more than an ad on the local net.
If it came down to it she could probably find work in Coronado. Unfortunately, it would mean bargaining from a greatly weakened position, and the corporate head-hunters in the border worlds had more in common with the knives-and-scalps variety than the suit-and-a-nice-bag-of-cash type.
Sparks did her best to hide her trepidation as Leslie opened the Galley's airlock and bundled her inside the transport, careful to avoid catching her bag on the door seals.
You could tell a lot about a person by what the ship the flew in. Right now, the Adventure Galley was telling her good things. The coffee Leslie pushed into her hand was a nice start, and the twin terminals only added to it. Sparks grinned up at Leslie, took a sip, and raised the cup in a half-salute.
"Thanks. God, I think it's been years since I last had coffee that didn't come in brick form. Worth coming, just for this." Sparks looked over the terminals, taking in the yoke, the wall of circuit breakers, nav-maps and telemetry, all within arm's reach. She settled into the chair like a cat by a fireplace, comfortable in the familiar setting. It had been too long since she sat on a transport bridge.
Leslie dropped into the other chair, turned to face her. Sparks resisted a sudden urge to laugh as, outside, a dockworker chased down a defective drone that had decided to circle a docked Albatross rather than load it.
Sparks nodded along as Leslie spoke. Questions. She could do questions.
"Firstly, what's your real name? I mean, Sparks is a pretty good moniker...but I'd like to know.”
Damn. Leslie paused, and for a moment Sparks thought the Galley's captain had seen her wince. After a moment Leslie continued, and Sparks let her heartbeat drift back to something approximating normal. It only made sense that Leslie would ask. It was her ship, after all. She had the right to know who was aboard it. Nonetheless, Sparks was loathe to share even that. She had grown so used to concealing her identity that now every question felt like an interrogation. She exhaled. It was a perfectly normal question. Nothing to worry about. Sparks slowly let her hands uncurl from around the armrests.
"Apart from that, just tell me about your qualifications, and where you got them. Try not to leave anything out, you're making a sales pitch here. Make sure it's a good one, I really want to hire you." Leslie was smiling again. She had the sort of smile that you wanted to talk to. On some people grins looked fake, ironed-on happiness as dry and soulless as a budget meeting. Leslie's was simple, genuine. Sparks felt herself relaxing by degrees.
"That's great. I'd really like to be hired." Sparks took another sip of coffee and tried to pull her thoughts together. She didn't want to kick-off their partnership by lying to Leslie, but what else could she do? If she told the truth, there might not be a partnership. Hi, my name's Sarah, and I've got the codes to half a dozen illegal commsats in my bag. Mind if I tag along? Yeah. That'd go down like a herd of elephants on a trapeze. Still...
"Alright." Sparks exhaled, turned back to dark screen of the ship's terminal rather than look at Leslie. "Real name.”
She still had the fake papers she'd wrestled off the Junkers, years ago. Perhaps she could pull them up, go back to being a no-one for a while. The record was hardly comprehensive, but if she made some calls she could - No. She hadn't come here to start hiding all over again.
"I was born as Sarah. I think that name's still on the official paperwork, but in all honesty it's been years since I last checked the central records. It's probably been translated back and forth half a dozen times by now." Sparks smiled a little at that.
"Sparks is a pretty recent thing. I signed on doing some work on military ships a couple of years back, mostly old fighters, not long after I got here." The ships hadn't belonged to the Rheinswehr by the time she worked on them, but they were still military ships. It wasn't technically a lie. "Long story slightly less long, I ended up as part of a crew taking apart a Coalition ship. An Insurgent, I think, but it could've been a Revolution. They're pretty much the same internally, anyway. Modular design. The core was pretty barebones, and you just snapped on the extra fire-power when you need it. Clever stuff, but it never really caught on back in the colonies proper. Too much effort to store all the modules, I guess.”
Sparks was settling into a rhythm as she spoke now, nerves fading into the background, if not vanishing altogether. A touch of pride crept into her voice as she continued.
"Have you ever seen one of those things? Most of the colonies get pretty paranoid about looking after their gear, but the Coalition blows that so far out of the water you can't even see the ocean from where it lands." She smiled, fingers parting in a mimed explosion. "Booby-trapping your own equipment's stupid enough to border on suicidal, particularly if you're not the one flying it. So, we were a little surprised when the RCS burned itself out the moment we touched it. Nearly flung the whole assembly into the hangar ceiling. That wasn't even the start of it.
By the time we finally disarmed the traps on this thing, we were a couple of weeks overdue, and we hadn't even had a chance to touch the flight controls for fear of blasting someone into orbit. We put up warnings, of course. 'Do not touch' in bright yellow text, that kind of thing. Doesn't mean anyone read them, but they were there." She leaned forward, folded a leg up into her lap.
"So, of course, the moment management wandered in and tried to turn it on, the computer shorted out. No-one got hurt, but you haven't seen fire until you've seen a vacc-suit smoking.” Sparks shrugged. "By the time the boss'd finished coughing they'd decided the faulty line was all our fault, warnings or not. I got assigned to fix the short, and 'Sparks' kinda stuck after that.”
She'd been glad to take on the nickname. It was easier to pretend she was someone else behind it. Besides, everyone deserved a second - third, she corrected - chance, right?
"Qualifications wise; I started out on work experience at Normanton Spaceport back... Oh. Would've been in 812. I was only fourteen, and Dad thought it was a great idea to get hands-on, you know, do something practical." Sparks' grin slipped a little at that. "I was good with the sciences, good with machines, and engineering seemed a pretty natural career path from there. I think Mum and Dad had me lined up to start university before I'd even considered it.”
Sparks gave a dry laugh, and her reflection in the terminal laughed back at her. She couldn't even make eye contact with that. "Didn't quite work out that way. I wanted to get out, see the universe. Laugh in the face of danger, travel to unknown stars. I still do.
So that's exactly what I did." She pivoted the chair, glanced back at Leslie.
"I left Manhattan before I even started study and signed on as a mechanical apprentice on a Zoner expedition instead. I'd been working at Normanton for a while now, so I had some experience, even if I didn't have the paperwork to back it up. They needed volunteers badly enough that they weren't looking too hard at credentials and, hey, before I knew it I was running assistant drive engineer on a Corvo-class; Star's Soliloquy.
She was a mean ship, all straight lines and warship-grade armaments - you know, before the colonies legislated the teeth out of the class." Sparks paused, took another sip of her coffee. A smile drifted across her face at the memory. "But the crew were some of the nicest people I've ever met. When we got back to civilisation, the chief engineer helped me put in for formal recognition of the work I'd done on Soliloquy. Big man, had a laugh like a fog-horn and a smile like a wolf. I think you would've liked him. Anyway, I filled in the paperwork and got a certificate back a month or so later."
Sparks raised a hand to fend off the incoming accusation.
"It wasn't enough for a full degree, obviously. I mean, I'd studied most of the course content on my own, but unless you actually flesh-and-blood attend you don't get the piece of paper, and I was kinda busy working on starships to take the time off. Besides-" She nodded towards her arms and legs, stretched long and thin by years in low-gravity. "By that point going down a gravity well for any length of time was pretty much out of the question. So, technically, I'm only qualified as a drive technician rather than a full-fledged engineer. On the upside it lowers my fees."
Sparks shrugged again, grinned as though she was commenting on the weather rather than her own body preventing her returning home. Her own fault, really. Insufficient supplements and full-G exercise, classic case. Thank you ma'am, send in the next patient on your way out please. There were cripplingly expensive programs that could repair the degeneration, but she didn't mind. She still had the stars.
"After I finished off with the Zoners I ran my own ship for a while." She glanced around the cramped cockpit, for a moment seeing another ship altogether. "Nothing as nice as the Galley and I think I would've killed for a coffee maker like that, but it was mine. Contents was a big bird, an old decommissioned liner. Even with all the automation she was way too big to handle on my own but, hey, I was young and stupid and there was no-one around to stop me. I took out a loan big enough to make Powell cry, and it was barely enough to get her spaceworthy. I went ahead and tried anyway.
I loved the ship, but I don't think I got a full night's sleep for the year I had her." Sparks' smile drooped. "I was too tired to fly her properly, much less manage the hundred other jobs I needed to do to pay for something that big. Eventually, things caught up with me-" Things in this case, being a Rheinland military patrol and an unshielded hold full of artifacts. There were some details you didn't share. "- and I lost the ship not long after I arrived in Rheinland. So, I know what it's like to have a ship to feed.
After that, it's basically been what I said in the comm. Ended up staying in Rheinland a little longer than I'd planned, and picked up some work on comms satellites and small ships while I was here." Sparks smiled and leaned back in the chair. "Oh, and I did learn enough of the language to horrifically mangle German punctuation.”
It was the truth. Pruned and trimmed, her involvement with the rogues and Widerstand carefully excised, but it was true. Admittedly, that didn't make her feel like any less of a scumbag.
"What about you?" Sparks asked. Change the subject. "I mean, the Galley's a big ship for one person." She snorted. "Not that I'm any sort of judge there. How did you end up captaining her all the way out to the thin edge of nowhere?”
"She's beautiful." Sparks breathed, and meant it. She craned her head to look up at the serenity's silent engine pods, comms arrays poking out from the ship's spine like steel scales. How far had those engines carried her? How many suns had cast their light on that hull? With a jolt, Sparks realised that Leslie was still talking to her. Right. Job interview. "I love the name. It's a good fit for her.”
She nodded up at the serenity, glanced from the ship to her captain. "She doesn't look like an Invincible or Voidrunner, or anything high-and-mighty like that. Adventure Galley suits what she does. Always seemed a little arrogant to me, naming ships Invincible, anyway. Flying around in an Invincible's got to be like sticking a karmic 'kick me' sign on your back.”
Leslie was waiting politely for her to finish, lips curled in a smile. The woman was remarkably calm for someone running solo between the stars. Sparks couldn't help but wonder if she had been like that, before she'd gone and got herself dragged into politics. At any rate, she was getting out of it now. If I get the job. She mentally kicked herself and let the captain continue.
"Sure, the ship's fine. I mean, I'd like to see the interior beforehand anyway. May as well do it now." Might as well kill two birds with one stone. Stone, in this case, being a multi-million credit starship. "Normally I'd invite you back to the hotel for a chat, but I don't think we'd both be able to squeeze into the room. Like you said, not huge on amenities here." Like space. Space station. Hah.
Sparks' grin vanished at Leslie's mention of returning her to Barrier Gate. The independent station was a hive, in the best and worst senses of the word, as much a home to the great and good as to the wicked and wise. Barrier Gate didn't care who you were or where you came from, as long as you came with credits in your pockets. Somehow, Sparks doubted the near-empty credstick in her pocket would get her much more than an ad on the local net.
If it came down to it she could probably find work in Coronado. Unfortunately, it would mean bargaining from a greatly weakened position, and the corporate head-hunters in the border worlds had more in common with the knives-and-scalps variety than the suit-and-a-nice-bag-of-cash type.
Sparks did her best to hide her trepidation as Leslie opened the Galley's airlock and bundled her inside the transport, careful to avoid catching her bag on the door seals.
You could tell a lot about a person by what the ship the flew in. Right now, the Adventure Galley was telling her good things. The coffee Leslie pushed into her hand was a nice start, and the twin terminals only added to it. Sparks grinned up at Leslie, took a sip, and raised the cup in a half-salute.
"Thanks. God, I think it's been years since I last had coffee that didn't come in brick form. Worth coming, just for this." Sparks looked over the terminals, taking in the yoke, the wall of circuit breakers, nav-maps and telemetry, all within arm's reach. She settled into the chair like a cat by a fireplace, comfortable in the familiar setting. It had been too long since she sat on a transport bridge.
Leslie dropped into the other chair, turned to face her. Sparks resisted a sudden urge to laugh as, outside, a dockworker chased down a defective drone that had decided to circle a docked Albatross rather than load it.
Sparks nodded along as Leslie spoke. Questions. She could do questions.
"Firstly, what's your real name? I mean, Sparks is a pretty good moniker...but I'd like to know.”
Damn. Leslie paused, and for a moment Sparks thought the Galley's captain had seen her wince. After a moment Leslie continued, and Sparks let her heartbeat drift back to something approximating normal. It only made sense that Leslie would ask. It was her ship, after all. She had the right to know who was aboard it. Nonetheless, Sparks was loathe to share even that. She had grown so used to concealing her identity that now every question felt like an interrogation. She exhaled. It was a perfectly normal question. Nothing to worry about. Sparks slowly let her hands uncurl from around the armrests.
"Apart from that, just tell me about your qualifications, and where you got them. Try not to leave anything out, you're making a sales pitch here. Make sure it's a good one, I really want to hire you." Leslie was smiling again. She had the sort of smile that you wanted to talk to. On some people grins looked fake, ironed-on happiness as dry and soulless as a budget meeting. Leslie's was simple, genuine. Sparks felt herself relaxing by degrees.
"That's great. I'd really like to be hired." Sparks took another sip of coffee and tried to pull her thoughts together. She didn't want to kick-off their partnership by lying to Leslie, but what else could she do? If she told the truth, there might not be a partnership. Hi, my name's Sarah, and I've got the codes to half a dozen illegal commsats in my bag. Mind if I tag along? Yeah. That'd go down like a herd of elephants on a trapeze. Still...
"Alright." Sparks exhaled, turned back to dark screen of the ship's terminal rather than look at Leslie. "Real name.”
She still had the fake papers she'd wrestled off the Junkers, years ago. Perhaps she could pull them up, go back to being a no-one for a while. The record was hardly comprehensive, but if she made some calls she could - No. She hadn't come here to start hiding all over again.
"I was born as Sarah. I think that name's still on the official paperwork, but in all honesty it's been years since I last checked the central records. It's probably been translated back and forth half a dozen times by now." Sparks smiled a little at that.
"Sparks is a pretty recent thing. I signed on doing some work on military ships a couple of years back, mostly old fighters, not long after I got here." The ships hadn't belonged to the Rheinswehr by the time she worked on them, but they were still military ships. It wasn't technically a lie. "Long story slightly less long, I ended up as part of a crew taking apart a Coalition ship. An Insurgent, I think, but it could've been a Revolution. They're pretty much the same internally, anyway. Modular design. The core was pretty barebones, and you just snapped on the extra fire-power when you need it. Clever stuff, but it never really caught on back in the colonies proper. Too much effort to store all the modules, I guess.”
Sparks was settling into a rhythm as she spoke now, nerves fading into the background, if not vanishing altogether. A touch of pride crept into her voice as she continued.
"Have you ever seen one of those things? Most of the colonies get pretty paranoid about looking after their gear, but the Coalition blows that so far out of the water you can't even see the ocean from where it lands." She smiled, fingers parting in a mimed explosion. "Booby-trapping your own equipment's stupid enough to border on suicidal, particularly if you're not the one flying it. So, we were a little surprised when the RCS burned itself out the moment we touched it. Nearly flung the whole assembly into the hangar ceiling. That wasn't even the start of it.
By the time we finally disarmed the traps on this thing, we were a couple of weeks overdue, and we hadn't even had a chance to touch the flight controls for fear of blasting someone into orbit. We put up warnings, of course. 'Do not touch' in bright yellow text, that kind of thing. Doesn't mean anyone read them, but they were there." She leaned forward, folded a leg up into her lap.
"So, of course, the moment management wandered in and tried to turn it on, the computer shorted out. No-one got hurt, but you haven't seen fire until you've seen a vacc-suit smoking.” Sparks shrugged. "By the time the boss'd finished coughing they'd decided the faulty line was all our fault, warnings or not. I got assigned to fix the short, and 'Sparks' kinda stuck after that.”
She'd been glad to take on the nickname. It was easier to pretend she was someone else behind it. Besides, everyone deserved a second - third, she corrected - chance, right?
"Qualifications wise; I started out on work experience at Normanton Spaceport back... Oh. Would've been in 812. I was only fourteen, and Dad thought it was a great idea to get hands-on, you know, do something practical." Sparks' grin slipped a little at that. "I was good with the sciences, good with machines, and engineering seemed a pretty natural career path from there. I think Mum and Dad had me lined up to start university before I'd even considered it.”
Sparks gave a dry laugh, and her reflection in the terminal laughed back at her. She couldn't even make eye contact with that. "Didn't quite work out that way. I wanted to get out, see the universe. Laugh in the face of danger, travel to unknown stars. I still do.
So that's exactly what I did." She pivoted the chair, glanced back at Leslie.
"I left Manhattan before I even started study and signed on as a mechanical apprentice on a Zoner expedition instead. I'd been working at Normanton for a while now, so I had some experience, even if I didn't have the paperwork to back it up. They needed volunteers badly enough that they weren't looking too hard at credentials and, hey, before I knew it I was running assistant drive engineer on a Corvo-class; Star's Soliloquy.
She was a mean ship, all straight lines and warship-grade armaments - you know, before the colonies legislated the teeth out of the class." Sparks paused, took another sip of her coffee. A smile drifted across her face at the memory. "But the crew were some of the nicest people I've ever met. When we got back to civilisation, the chief engineer helped me put in for formal recognition of the work I'd done on Soliloquy. Big man, had a laugh like a fog-horn and a smile like a wolf. I think you would've liked him. Anyway, I filled in the paperwork and got a certificate back a month or so later."
Sparks raised a hand to fend off the incoming accusation.
"It wasn't enough for a full degree, obviously. I mean, I'd studied most of the course content on my own, but unless you actually flesh-and-blood attend you don't get the piece of paper, and I was kinda busy working on starships to take the time off. Besides-" She nodded towards her arms and legs, stretched long and thin by years in low-gravity. "By that point going down a gravity well for any length of time was pretty much out of the question. So, technically, I'm only qualified as a drive technician rather than a full-fledged engineer. On the upside it lowers my fees."
Sparks shrugged again, grinned as though she was commenting on the weather rather than her own body preventing her returning home. Her own fault, really. Insufficient supplements and full-G exercise, classic case. Thank you ma'am, send in the next patient on your way out please. There were cripplingly expensive programs that could repair the degeneration, but she didn't mind. She still had the stars.
"After I finished off with the Zoners I ran my own ship for a while." She glanced around the cramped cockpit, for a moment seeing another ship altogether. "Nothing as nice as the Galley and I think I would've killed for a coffee maker like that, but it was mine. Contents was a big bird, an old decommissioned liner. Even with all the automation she was way too big to handle on my own but, hey, I was young and stupid and there was no-one around to stop me. I took out a loan big enough to make Powell cry, and it was barely enough to get her spaceworthy. I went ahead and tried anyway.
I loved the ship, but I don't think I got a full night's sleep for the year I had her." Sparks' smile drooped. "I was too tired to fly her properly, much less manage the hundred other jobs I needed to do to pay for something that big. Eventually, things caught up with me-" Things in this case, being a Rheinland military patrol and an unshielded hold full of artifacts. There were some details you didn't share. "- and I lost the ship not long after I arrived in Rheinland. So, I know what it's like to have a ship to feed.
After that, it's basically been what I said in the comm. Ended up staying in Rheinland a little longer than I'd planned, and picked up some work on comms satellites and small ships while I was here." Sparks smiled and leaned back in the chair. "Oh, and I did learn enough of the language to horrifically mangle German punctuation.”
It was the truth. Pruned and trimmed, her involvement with the rogues and Widerstand carefully excised, but it was true. Admittedly, that didn't make her feel like any less of a scumbag.
"What about you?" Sparks asked. Change the subject. "I mean, the Galley's a big ship for one person." She snorted. "Not that I'm any sort of judge there. How did you end up captaining her all the way out to the thin edge of nowhere?”
RE: Nostalgia for Infinity - Leslie Durant - 06-11-2015
Leslie listened attentively as Sparks went on, filing each little bit of information away. Her Coffee sat on an armrest, forgotten for once. She laughed as Sparks described the Coalition and their hysterical paranoia.
"I can't say I know much about these Coalition times, but they seem like charmers," She said, smiling. "Although I imagined the moniker would involve more engineer...stuff and less vaccsuits on fire."
She continued to listen and nod as Sparks described the various jobs she'd held. Her mention of attending University got Leslie's attention. Leslie had attended Brabant University on Manhattan herself, gaining a background in Business Administration which she'd put to use in her new start-up. Most of her friends (ex-friends, Leslie thought dryly) had thought her insane for taking on this line of work instead of joining one of the big three. She thought about that and shook her head. Sitting behind a prison of glass, looking out and wondering what the outside world was upto...that life was not for her. The life of a Trader was hard at times, and working alone did get on your nerves, but Leslie did not regret her decision.
"Most people I've met in the practical fields don't buy into the Uni thing. I tend to agree, I don't know about the other colonies...but there's a lot of railroading going on in Liberty's Universities."
The Big Three needed their thralls to run the giant wheels of corporate machinery that made Liberty tick. Leslie had this mental image, oft repressed, of Hamsters running a wheel till they perished, replaced by new and willing hamsters. She shuddered.
Leslie critically noted that most of Sparks' qualifications appeared to be informal affairs. Work was done, and not much record remained of what work she'd done. She also took note of the fact that Sparks omitted several large timeframes in her description. While it was possible she just wasn't doing anything during that time, Leslie found that unlikely. It's probably got something to do with why she's stuck in the middle of nowhere trying to fade into obscurity.
She nodded with equanimity as Sparks finished her story, looking at her expectantly.
"Seems like you didn't leave a long paper trail behind for most of the work you did. I'll verify what I can, for procedure's sake."
She frowned. "Sorry to hear about your condition, Sarah." She refrained from commenting any further on it. Some people could be touchy about their flaws, perceived or real.
She looked up with mild surprise as Sparks asked for her story. After a moment of thought, she smiled. "A lot of similarities with your own story, actually. I completed a Masters in Business Administration from Brabant last year, and instead of choosing the slave life in one of the Big Three, decided to start up something of my own."
She winced, thinking about some of the stupid things she'd done to get this started. "Took out a loan and bought the first Adventure Galley. That was just a freighter, all I could afford at the time. After that, I trawled the colonies for work and eventually found enough to upgrade to what I have today. As for why I do it..."
Leslie's smile was almost benign.
"It's fun."
Leslie drummed an armrest with her fingers. "Anyways, you certainly have plenty of experience from the looks of it, even if most of it is undocumented. I'd be willing to give you a go, but here's how we'll do it."
Her smile disappeared, and she was all business again.
"We'll head out to Barrier Gate and you'll meet the guy who usually does my maintenance. He goes by the name of Levi. You two can go over the ship together and if Levi gives you the all-clear, you can begin your duties."
She raised a finger.
"I'll also need your biometric data, both for my records as well as for referencing with Criminal Databases across Sirius."
Looking at Spark's expression, she smiled apologetically.
"It's standard procedure, really. Just making sure that you're not a homicidal killer who happens to have creaky bones." She smiled at her own bad joke, and leaned back in her chair.
"While we get that done, I'd just like to know more about you. On a personal level, that is. Do you have any friends around here? Relatives? Angry boyfriends who might scuttle my ship to get to you? And of course, feel free to ask any questions you have."
RE: Nostalgia for Infinity - Sarah McFarlen - 06-13-2015
Sparks
Sparks gave a shrug when Leslie commented on her non-existent paper trail. Nonexistent was probably the wrong word. Sure, there were plenty of records of her work, public and otherwise, but she hadn't yet seen one that identified her by name. Usually the most she got was something nice and general like 'Bundschuh Raiders Strike Again' or 'Surge in Cruiser Sightings.' Sparks breathed a quiet prayer of thanks for small blessings and, just in case, sent up a second one hoping that nothing had changed since she last checked.
"I can track down someone from Soliloquy to vouch for me, if that'd help." She offered. She hadn't had any contact with the Corvo-class in years, but it would still be around somewhere. People who took to the roving lifestyle didn't give it up easy. She was living evidence of that. "Might take a little while though. I'm not sure if it'll be in range of the network, or how far away it is if it's not. I can send you the technician's ticket easy enough."
Sparks made to balance her coffee on the armrest, thought better of it, and finished the cup instead before placing it carefully on the floor next to the seat. No point letting it go cold. She rolled the strap on her wrist and powered on the datapad hanging off it. A series of staccato taps and she'd called up the old certificate and sent it to Leslie on the same channel she'd used for the ship's details. Sarah McFarlen. Her real, full, name stared out at her from the certificate in digital gilt. Handing it over, even to someone as apparently friendly as Leslie, sent a tremor of anxiety drifting through her stomach, but what else could she do? She wanted the job, and the Adventure Galley's captain needed some sort of proof that she was who she said she was to give it to her. Too late to call the message back now, anyway.
"And don't be sorry." Sparks' lips curled into thin smile. She hadn't talked to anyone in the Widerstand about the degradation of her muscle and bone. Hadn't been relevant, living in the weak hold of station gravity. All the attention was making her a little uneasy. "It happens. I'll be fine just as long as you don't expect me to get out and push."
She nodded along as Leslie told her story, let her datapad drift to sleep mode and didn't bother waking it. Funny, how similar it was to her own. It was vaguely reassuring to know that she wasn't the only one who'd decided to throw off the comforts of Manhattan for a life of uncertainty. Even if there were times she would have traded it all in for a soft bed and a shower with actual water.
Finally, Leslie said the words Sparks had been waiting to hear. I'd be willing to give you a go. It wasn't a permanent job, not yet, but it was a shot at one. Right now, that would have to be enough. She'd go over the ship with Leslie's mechanic, get the man's approval, and start work. She was sure she could do that much at least.
"Great!" She flashed a brief grin, but her heart was in it. Honestly, Sparks would have walked over hot coals to get out of Rheinland. She was just grateful that Leslie hadn't probed her further. "I'll get my stuff and-"
Leslie raised a single thin finger. Biometrics. Sparks gave a world-weary sigh. It was a step up, but she'd given the woman her name already. Biometrics wouldn't give her anything she couldn't dig up with her name a and a little time, anyway, and she was reasonably certain that Dusentrieb's contacts had scrubbed out the missing person's entry on her file. She hadn't put it to the test yet, but... Well, in for an inch, in for a mile. There was just one catch.
"Sure thing, but, er... I don't have any recent biometrics. None that I have access to, anyway." She added hurriedly. There wasn't a corp in Rheinland, big-time or otherwise, that'd offer work to a freelancer without running those tests. Technically they were meant to share records, but it was amazing how often things went missing, particularly working for the sort of people that tended to employ drifters like her. There was a thriving black market in forged and stolen data. "I mean, I can get tested here if it's a big deal. It's a research complex, they're bound to have something. Unless you've got a kit on board."
Otherwise, Leslie'd have to pay for it. Testing was common for just about any job with more responsibility then waste disposal for the local fast-food joint. Her cheap-ass motel still used digital keycodes, but most up-market establishments in the colonies took biometrics in lieu of keys. Harder to copy, and the clientele didn't tend to run off on unpaid bills when you could hand an investigator suspect genetics the day you signed the contract. Even the LPI couldn't screw up a lead that solid, and the LPI were very, very, good at screwing up. Particularly when the wealthy were involved. Sparks had no illusions as to her own wealth. Her budget could stretch to another cup of coffee and maybe half a sandwich, but it wouldn't cover testing if she had to do it on station.
"Last time I checked I wasn't a serial killer, if that's any consolation." She raised her hands before her, palms out, and flipped them once. "See? Completely blood-free."
Sparks let her foot slide back to the floor, pivoted the chair to face Leslie, and waved a hand back towards Heisenburg.
"Boyfriends have been kind-of a rare thing out here. Call me old fashioned, but I don't really go in for crews looking for something to do on forty-eight hour leave." Or someone to do. Research station it might be, but you lock people up in a box for a few weeks on the trip out and they got as rowdy as any raiding crew on Buffalo. Sparks grinned. "Not really my thing. Family are all safely back in Liberty and, unless I'm even less lucky than I thought I was, they're not coming looking any time soon."
Friends, though. That was a little different. Sparks thought about Erich, vanished in the wake of Zwickau. Thought about Chris Dangen at her door, the same gentle mocking smile on his face that he'd worn eight years ago. Thought about Cameron and the look of betrayal on his long face as he escorted her from Bruchsal, scrawny hands tight on his rifle, about Axel and Alex, lying in crowded medical wards as machines struggled to outpace the radiation corrupting their cells, Freya's expression as she exiled her from the Widerstand with no more emotion than a woman taking out the trash.
"Nope." Sparks shook her head, dragging herself back to the Galley's bridge and the present. The past was the past. She could let it stay there, if it could keep its grubby hands off her. They could hardly be counted on to be friends to her now, no matter that she still counted them as such. "No friends out here. Sort-of lost contact with most people after my last job wound up. Besides-"
She smiled towards the ship's display, wondered what it would look like when she was under way. "There hasn't exactly been a stream of old buddies looking to help me off this rock, which says pretty much everything that needs to be said about work relationships, huh?"
Frustration had been first, but it had quickly given way to anger. How dare they abandon her? After all she'd done! She'd hung onto that for a week, maybe two. But Sparks had never been good at holding a grudge, and a dwindling credit account was a great incentive to meet new people, and soon. Anger had quickly simmered down to a dull acceptance, like a park-goer confronted with unseasonal rain. Rain fell, birds twittered, and people were jerks sometimes. She'd just be happy to get out of here and Rheinland and her past a very long way behind her.
"Don't worry about me. There won't be any visitors knocking on the hull to check up on me. No-one you don't invite, anyway. I've just got one question, if that's okay." Sparks grinned. "When do we leave?"
"I can track down someone from Soliloquy to vouch for me, if that'd help." She offered. She hadn't had any contact with the Corvo-class in years, but it would still be around somewhere. People who took to the roving lifestyle didn't give it up easy. She was living evidence of that. "Might take a little while though. I'm not sure if it'll be in range of the network, or how far away it is if it's not. I can send you the technician's ticket easy enough."
Sparks made to balance her coffee on the armrest, thought better of it, and finished the cup instead before placing it carefully on the floor next to the seat. No point letting it go cold. She rolled the strap on her wrist and powered on the datapad hanging off it. A series of staccato taps and she'd called up the old certificate and sent it to Leslie on the same channel she'd used for the ship's details. Sarah McFarlen. Her real, full, name stared out at her from the certificate in digital gilt. Handing it over, even to someone as apparently friendly as Leslie, sent a tremor of anxiety drifting through her stomach, but what else could she do? She wanted the job, and the Adventure Galley's captain needed some sort of proof that she was who she said she was to give it to her. Too late to call the message back now, anyway.
"And don't be sorry." Sparks' lips curled into thin smile. She hadn't talked to anyone in the Widerstand about the degradation of her muscle and bone. Hadn't been relevant, living in the weak hold of station gravity. All the attention was making her a little uneasy. "It happens. I'll be fine just as long as you don't expect me to get out and push."
She nodded along as Leslie told her story, let her datapad drift to sleep mode and didn't bother waking it. Funny, how similar it was to her own. It was vaguely reassuring to know that she wasn't the only one who'd decided to throw off the comforts of Manhattan for a life of uncertainty. Even if there were times she would have traded it all in for a soft bed and a shower with actual water.
Finally, Leslie said the words Sparks had been waiting to hear. I'd be willing to give you a go. It wasn't a permanent job, not yet, but it was a shot at one. Right now, that would have to be enough. She'd go over the ship with Leslie's mechanic, get the man's approval, and start work. She was sure she could do that much at least.
"Great!" She flashed a brief grin, but her heart was in it. Honestly, Sparks would have walked over hot coals to get out of Rheinland. She was just grateful that Leslie hadn't probed her further. "I'll get my stuff and-"
Leslie raised a single thin finger. Biometrics. Sparks gave a world-weary sigh. It was a step up, but she'd given the woman her name already. Biometrics wouldn't give her anything she couldn't dig up with her name a and a little time, anyway, and she was reasonably certain that Dusentrieb's contacts had scrubbed out the missing person's entry on her file. She hadn't put it to the test yet, but... Well, in for an inch, in for a mile. There was just one catch.
"Sure thing, but, er... I don't have any recent biometrics. None that I have access to, anyway." She added hurriedly. There wasn't a corp in Rheinland, big-time or otherwise, that'd offer work to a freelancer without running those tests. Technically they were meant to share records, but it was amazing how often things went missing, particularly working for the sort of people that tended to employ drifters like her. There was a thriving black market in forged and stolen data. "I mean, I can get tested here if it's a big deal. It's a research complex, they're bound to have something. Unless you've got a kit on board."
Otherwise, Leslie'd have to pay for it. Testing was common for just about any job with more responsibility then waste disposal for the local fast-food joint. Her cheap-ass motel still used digital keycodes, but most up-market establishments in the colonies took biometrics in lieu of keys. Harder to copy, and the clientele didn't tend to run off on unpaid bills when you could hand an investigator suspect genetics the day you signed the contract. Even the LPI couldn't screw up a lead that solid, and the LPI were very, very, good at screwing up. Particularly when the wealthy were involved. Sparks had no illusions as to her own wealth. Her budget could stretch to another cup of coffee and maybe half a sandwich, but it wouldn't cover testing if she had to do it on station.
"Last time I checked I wasn't a serial killer, if that's any consolation." She raised her hands before her, palms out, and flipped them once. "See? Completely blood-free."
Sparks let her foot slide back to the floor, pivoted the chair to face Leslie, and waved a hand back towards Heisenburg.
"Boyfriends have been kind-of a rare thing out here. Call me old fashioned, but I don't really go in for crews looking for something to do on forty-eight hour leave." Or someone to do. Research station it might be, but you lock people up in a box for a few weeks on the trip out and they got as rowdy as any raiding crew on Buffalo. Sparks grinned. "Not really my thing. Family are all safely back in Liberty and, unless I'm even less lucky than I thought I was, they're not coming looking any time soon."
Friends, though. That was a little different. Sparks thought about Erich, vanished in the wake of Zwickau. Thought about Chris Dangen at her door, the same gentle mocking smile on his face that he'd worn eight years ago. Thought about Cameron and the look of betrayal on his long face as he escorted her from Bruchsal, scrawny hands tight on his rifle, about Axel and Alex, lying in crowded medical wards as machines struggled to outpace the radiation corrupting their cells, Freya's expression as she exiled her from the Widerstand with no more emotion than a woman taking out the trash.
"Nope." Sparks shook her head, dragging herself back to the Galley's bridge and the present. The past was the past. She could let it stay there, if it could keep its grubby hands off her. They could hardly be counted on to be friends to her now, no matter that she still counted them as such. "No friends out here. Sort-of lost contact with most people after my last job wound up. Besides-"
She smiled towards the ship's display, wondered what it would look like when she was under way. "There hasn't exactly been a stream of old buddies looking to help me off this rock, which says pretty much everything that needs to be said about work relationships, huh?"
Frustration had been first, but it had quickly given way to anger. How dare they abandon her? After all she'd done! She'd hung onto that for a week, maybe two. But Sparks had never been good at holding a grudge, and a dwindling credit account was a great incentive to meet new people, and soon. Anger had quickly simmered down to a dull acceptance, like a park-goer confronted with unseasonal rain. Rain fell, birds twittered, and people were jerks sometimes. She'd just be happy to get out of here and Rheinland and her past a very long way behind her.
"Don't worry about me. There won't be any visitors knocking on the hull to check up on me. No-one you don't invite, anyway. I've just got one question, if that's okay." Sparks grinned. "When do we leave?"
RE: Nostalgia for Infinity - Leslie Durant - 06-13-2015
Leslie glanced at Sarah's certification, and prima facie everything seemed to be in order. She noted her full name. McFarlen, huh? She decided that it was a good name, quite Libertonian. She drank from her cup, grimacing in distaste, it had already gotten cold. Setting it back on an armrest with a practiced motion, she continued listening, raising a hand as Sarah described her problem regarding biometrics.
"Might as well get it done here then," She continued, seeing Sarah's tepid expression. "It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours, and I'll forward you the money for it. Consider it an advance."
Despite Leslie's various stipulations, Sarah was already hired in her mind. She couldn't give away the impression of her being too easy-going however, she was the employer after all. A loose manager sunk companies, it was said. She had no intentions of being a slave-driver, but she needed to get as much value out of Sarah as she could if the investment was to pay off. The fact that she seemed amiable and easy to work with was just an added bonus.
Just don't hit on her too much.
She frowned in mild surprise as Sarah described her family and friends, or lack thereof.
"Strange. I'd figured a pretty geek like you would have someone hanging about."
She shook her head and shrugged. Stop that.
"I guess it makes sense. I'll just have to ask you to inform me if that situation changes. We'll be running a business here but we can make allowances for downtime, yeah?"
Leslie wondered if there was something that Sarah wasn't telling her. Despite being easy to talk to, she apparently had been stranded in the middle of nowhere with no resort but to post on the neural net in a blind gambit, hoping for any break. Something had happened, no doubt. Leslie almost opened her mouth to ask, then shut it. That was a conversation for later, when they'd gotten more comfortable in their relationship. And after a few beers, probably.
She handed Sarah a Credit chit. "Get your biometrics sorted, and I'll file an inquiry into the relevant databases before we leave. I'll also snoop around and see if I can't find something to haul from here. As soon as all that's done, we'll leave."
She pulled up the Galley's starcharts for a moment, considering her probable route.
"We'll be going to Barrier via Bretonia. The Rheinland-Liberty links are broken because of that stupid war."
She smiled suddenly. "I wonder if he's in the area...I'll have to call."
She turned towards Sparks, grinned and extended a hand. This was the first step towards becoming something bigger, and Leslie could feel her excitement. She'd push her business to greater and greater heights, as she'd always intended to do.
"Welcome aboard, Sparks."