Another day, another dollar as the saying goes. To that end, being employed on board such a valued ship did have its merits in the form of high wages. Money that, to Issac Clarke, would be insane to pass up.
A full decade of accumulated student debt had to pay off somehow. Graduating at the top of his class was enough for Clarke. But being offered to help maintain the one and only USG Ishimura far surpasses what one can hope for after being handed their diploma. Evidently, the numerous CEC gigs succeeded in proving what his existing credentials didn't for those in charge.
Despite what many would assume is blind fortune, (which would be immediately recognized as hard work to those who are experienced), Issac sometimes wonders if his more enthusiastic peer went through a fraction of the same hurdles. It wouldn't be unlikely, but rather strange to think about in regards to such a happy-go-lucky, walking embodiment of success.
That peer, currently sauntering alongside Issac as he does at the beginning of every shift is Jacob Temple: chief engineer of the CEC's crowning jewel. Having realized that position wouldn't be going to him days before boarding, Issac thought the man he'd be working under would be many years into such a lucrative profession, and possibly very few away from a deathbed, like most department heads he's had the displeasure of answering to.
Surprisingly, he instead found a man just three years older than him at the age of forty-six. But a stranger wouldn't have a dream of placing an accurate guess going off of Jacob's energy and appearance. A fresh-shaved, handsome male with neatly comed, spikey black hair.
Both he and Issac are appropriately dressed in their standard engineering uniforms. A close contender for the biggest drawback of the job. Their heavy, tight, clunky brown outfits feel more like suits of armor, which is admittedly, not far from their actual purpose. A wise decision from the CEC concerning the many hazardous work environments their employees face on the daily. The plethora of lawsuits that nearly drove the corporation to bankruptcy in its early years clearly had a permanent effect. One which has undoubtedly benefitted the fortunate workers that came after.
Besides, even though the suits are uncomfortable, the amount of discomfort while on duty would be tenfold if not for their protective padded rib-cage platings and self-sealing features which keep toxic air away from the wearer's vulnerable lungs. Something Issac imagines Caldwell, Sterling, and Egan will make great use of against Aegis Seven's less-than-favorable atmosphere.
On their respective backs are spine-like suit rigs glowing bright blue, indicative of good health. Held securely in each of their arms are engineering helmets which are understandably required once they reach their destination. The engineering deck. There, a number of loose sparks or debris could wind up in someone's naked face. Not to mention the nearly suffocating heavy fumes.
"Lucky bastards."
If Issac wasn't in such close proximity to Jacob, the barely audible whisper would've gone unnoticed.
"Still thinking about the others?" he says with amusement, knowing full well he's right on the money.
"Honestly, how could I not?!" Jacob says much louder, spreading his arms as he walks. "You would think they'd send their CHIEF engineer to aid in the extraction. But no. We get to check oil pressures, perform routine inspections, and maintain the engines all while our friends make planet fall and achieve the unimaginable."
"Just relax," Issac advises. "All they're doing is assisting the ground team to ensure things go off without a hitch. We're needed to keep this baby running. If anything, you should feel honored."
"Honored my ass," Jacob grumpily retorts. "Doing something this remarkable was a dream of mine. I shot for the stars, and yet, it didn't come true. Goddamn fortune cookie, waste of time."
Issac can't help but smirk, but only briefly. The two engineers walk along a black railing suspended above a normally busy hallway. Most, if not, all employees moving under them are scientists, herbologists, or horticulturists like most are in the Hydroponics Deck.
Of course, a tram would have gotten both men to their destination faster, but Jacob prefers taking the long way for one reason only. And these long, calm walks every day, (or at least what would classify as a day by Earth's standards), helps Issac properly ease into what inevitably becomes hours of dangerous labor.
Reaching the end of the railing, they pivot left, and a white, square-shaped door embedded with a decoratively illustrated 'H' symbol slides open. Issac and Jacob enter a larger room with much more noise than the one they just walked through. All of it is the result of dozens of workers before them communicating amongst themselves in the brightly lit area filled with multiple columns of herbs, small crops, and other forms of sensitive, artificial vegetation.
Like usual, the entire place smells like marijuana, but Issac refrains from voicing this aloud, as well as his bemusement to Jacob's frustrations. The latter of the two thoughts certainly wouldn't have gone over well with Temple, whose wife is another in the hundreds of rock-carriers occupying space on board the vessel.
Simple irony is the best answer Issac has as to how and why eighty percent of his co-workers are made up of unwavering unitologists. Whatever the true cause might be, he's been smart enough to keep his passionate disdain for such nonsense a secret only known by his wife. While there is some part of him that is truly excited to be a part of something so grand, he doesn't allow himself to entertain the greedy and dishonest rhetoric that stole everything. Not even for a second.
"There you are!"
Directly to Jacob's left comes a forty-two-year-old adult woman wearing a slick white-and-grey collared uniform. Like her husband's, her black hair is kept neatly trimmed. Dangling from her neck is a necklace carrying an ever-familiar small pendant. One in the distinct shape of the marker on Earth so many have come to worship. Most on board the Ishimura proudly wear it.
It takes all of two seconds before the two lovers join each other in their arms.
"Are you excited?" she smiles.
"Yeah, you got that right," Jacob solemnly agrees.
"Hey," Cross says, gently placing her palm on her husband's cheek. "We'll have plenty of time to admire it when it's brought on board."
Jacob takes Elizabeth's hand and gives it a soft kiss.
"Praise be Altman."
Elizabeth's smile grows and she returns the kiss, this time, on her lover's lips.
"Praise be Altman," she recites.
Left with nothing to do but to awkwardly stand around, Issac is astonished at the fact that his trusty co-worker isn't another unitologist like the others. From the way he converses with his wife, that'd be the rational conclusion anyone would jump to. His commitment to the relationship is to be admired... and subconsciously envied.
When Issac had learned both he and Nicole could be stationed on board the same ship, a new opportunity had presented itself. A possible break of excitement in what was, obvious to both parties, becoming a stale marriage. Only one of which would go as far as to use the term: 'unhappy.'
Unfortunately, conflicting shifts weren't anticipated when they signed on, and that unexpected reality had only further divided the two with barely any time now to interact.
Despite being worlds apart, Caldwell will be reuniting with the love of his life. However, even on board the very same vessel, Issac can't help but feel the barrier between him and Nicole has somehow gotten larger with no sign of its growth slowing.
As he watches Jacob and Elizabeth depart from their previously tight embrace, he fails to remember the last time he felt the warm, comforting arms of his one love.
...
