One...
Fucking Planet crackers… Issac had been on just too many of them. It was only a matter of time before Earthgov found out that no matter how big the damn ship was, no ship would be able to pull a planet apart. Planets are big things, and things that aren't so big aren't supposed to go along bullying things bigger than them either. Issac had to be sure that all those nerds on the engineer board that had made the damn planet crackers had known that when you pick on something bigger than you bad things happen… Issac sure knew that…
Besides, these planet crackers were poorly built. It made them easy to access, which was great for Issac, but bad for the ship. One thing was for certain, the longer it took for Issac to fix a problem, the less likely the problem would happen in the first place. OH but these earthgov fucks just HAD to be all about efficiency… Cheap bastards. Space is nothing but disease and danger wrapped in dark isolation. One little fuck up and chances are, you will never be heard again, let alone thought of. Sure, some family member planet side will be wondering why that can't get ahold of their loved one, but the truth is, random things happen in space, and a few hundred lightyears is a hell of a distance for a call to lose its track and head out towards Andromeda.
Disease and danger…
"So, Issac Clark…" She had a voice… The lady, one of the only two figures in the cockpit chamber of the small transport ship had turned to look at him. Her voice nearly startled Issac, as he was sure that she was a statue. "I hear you have a woman of interest on board the Ishimura. I trust she won't be a distraction." Her stiff, accusing voice almost brought a look of scorn to Issac's face.
"More of a worry," Issac said, lifting his gaze to the woman. Finally, a little life in here. It had been hours since anyone had moved let alone spoke a word… hell, breathed for that matter. The drone of the ships engines had faded into background noise long ago. By now it was as if the shield beyond the window before them had given way, exposing them to the silence of space. "The last message I got from her was a bit… harrowing."
The woman just nodded. "Yeah, that's all relationships are these days: drama and sadness." Of course, the perfect disposition for a woman in the armed forces: cold and calculating. Relationships got in the the way. Perhaps that was the truth. After all, there is a reason that relationships cost a lot of trust and effort. That was of course because the person on the other side of the relationship had the ability to not only create the most intense of bliss and pleasure, but also inflict the most catastrophic of pain and anguish. Sometimes, Issac had to ask himself if it was all worth the risk… if it was all for a good cause…
Most people are depressed because their long distance relationships span a few states or even countries. His long distance relationship spanned across an entire planet as well as space on top of that… This ship was cursed for all he really cared. It was her job, and it was what took HER away from him. Screw this bitch. Nichole was going to be a big fucking distraction, but she always was. That's what love was all about. If being on the same ship as Nichole for several hours wasn't any sort of a distraction, than Issac would have to question if what was truly between them was love in the first place. What the fuck did she care anyway? He would see her after the job was done. Certainly he wouldn't need to be escorted off the ship as well.
Which reminded him…
"So…" said Issac, breaking the disturbingly awkward silence that had once again reestablished itself, "you guys mind telling me why I need a full security escort? Is this not just a random patch job in space?"
"Well, yes and no." The man, black and bald turned around this time. He was surprised at just how still these people could keep themselves. "There was a distress beacon. Because of this, this is really a call for us. You are here because there are a few system malfunctions all over the ship. Several life support systems are down, as well as the communications array. We need you to patch those up and make sure they are fuctional."
"Distress?" The word raised so many alarms in Issac's mind. The massage was only becoming more frightening.
Issac…I…I had hoped that it wouldn't end like this.
Issac remained composed. "What could be wrong?" The question just barely became a stutter of worry.
"Anything," the man responded. "There could be rioting on the ship. There have been multiple times where there has been an epidemic."
"Oh god," the woman said, "puke everywhere…"
Issac strained at the thought. At this point, he had really hoped that she was ok. In the ending of the message she had seemed so scared… Well, he couldn't really call it the end of the message. The message was frayed… broken… incomplete… like Issac until he got to the bottom of this. Hopefully the problem she was just talking about was breaking up. Issac could handle that. A little R and R time and some talking in each other's arms would end any of those notions.
"If I am right.." said the black man, interrupting Issac's peaceful thoughts and bringing him back to the task at hand. "Yes. There it is."
Just then, the blaster shields opened, allowing vision into the black beyond. It seemed that they had begun their decent into some sort of belt of debris, swerving left and right around rocks. And then, like a beacon in the deep, there emerged the S.S. Ishimura. Thought the years of space dust had put a thick coat on the ship, making it look much like a giant rock with lights.
Actually, now that Issac took a second to analyze the ship, it looked like a barrel of a gun… A damn big gun. As it spun around, it eerily took a position in which it seemed to be pointed straight at Issac… yet another harrowing sign that coming to this place was a horrible idea…
He was worried again.
The omen infected his mind with the notion that it was now time to turn back. He felt angry. Why did he have to be here? What purpose did he serve? Why couldn't they have taken someone back? The darkness had always seemed spooky to Issac, but this ship… Twisting about with its lights flashing… Issac felt like there was definitely something wrong, and it had nothing to do with the ship. Even now, he could feel eyes on him. It was almost as if something were looking at him from inside the ship. Not like it were looking at the ship that Issac was in, but at Issac directly. It were as if something on the ship knew that he was near; like it was beckoning him closer, awaiting his arrival.
Fuck space. It's all dead out there. Nichole is on that ship. Nichole is fine.
He repeated the phrase again and again, making him build up the strength to think on, if not get on the ship and do his job. One thing was for sure, the quicker he got the job done, the sooner he would see Nichole. That's all he had to focus on. He would get the job done, fix what needed to be fixed, fuck Nichole good and hard, and then stay on board until he was called away so that he could see that his job was finished and that he didn't make any mistakes. (Issac never made mistakes. This way, he was just going to have a few more chances to fuck Nichole. They were both due for that, right?)
He sighed and ran his hand through his short cut black hair. The idea of time in space was so fucked up . He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten a good nights sleep. Thinking about Nichole's body pressed to his only made him shiver. He felt good. This was going to be cake.
He took this moment of tranquility to look over his involuntary companions. The woman stood in a civie's Earthgov uniform, suggesting that she worked in logistics. Issac would have guessed that she specialized in strategy… or death. Though she had a woman's high pitch for a voice, she spoke in a harsh, lower voice. Of course she did this because as a woman, she wanted to push out a bit more of a masculine impression. A woman in a man's world doing a man's job demanded respect, naturally.
The black man fit his job norm. He was taller and broader than Issac, with his hair cut into a retro crew cut look. His muscles were defined, and his voice had a certain deeper quality that made him seem stronger and much more masculine; the kind of guy you would want in a bar fight. Even the way he was staring out that window was intimidating. Issac wouldn't want him looking out there at him, that's for sure. He obviously was not from logistics…
All the same, the blonde and the black man weren't really respectful names.
"I'm sorry," Said Issac timidly to the blonde, "But I never caught your name."
"This isn't the time for a booty call, playboy," She snapped back. "Don't you have a girlfriend, Issac." She was obviously showing that she shamelessly knew more about Issac than he did she.
"That's hardly the start of a healthy relationship," The black man retorted ina sarcastic tone. He turned to Issac. "I'm sorry about her. You can call me Hammond. This is Lieutenant Kendra Daniels. Call her what you want, she looks just like a paper-pushing logistics bitch to me."
Kendra tisked. "Bite me, bullet sponge. And I am in communications. I tell you where to go."
"Or tell my men where to die, from behind a desk mind you." Hammond turned his gaze back out into space. "Besides, you are probably the lady that just repeats what the computer says out loud."
The ship jarred a bit suddenly as it was pulled into a certain track. There was a chirp in the coms. "Gravity tethers activated." An automated voice.
Hammond turned to face Kendra with a sarcastic look on his face, begging her to say something. Kendra just sighed in aggravation and looked forward.