Everything was cold. Each console, every button, all of it. If he looked close enough at the plastic buttons used to engage each of the ship's systems, he could swear frost was starting to form. Ken Mallory reclined back in the captain's chair, trying to catch even a few minutes of sleep under his fleece blanket. The chair wasn't his, but given that he was the only person awake, he was in charge.
Not that there was much to be in charge of. The three member crew of the Raven had the glorious responsibility of overseeing its current cargo: energy coils for Faster Than Light drives. It wasn't the most interesting haul, but FTL coils were in high demand since ships burned through them so quick. Ken mind drifted back to sleep when a console let out a soft repeating beep.
He groaned and sat forward to clear the message. It was 02:00 and the hourly log needed an entry. Ken cleared his throat and keyed the console.
"Routine entry, Ken Mallory. May 5, 2405, 02:00. Ship's status mirrors previous updates. No changes since leaving Bridger two weeks ago. ETA to Cogan remains at 53-days."
The system beeped, sending an echo bouncing off the walls of the small bridge, acknowledging the recording as a permanent entry into the ship's log. Ken readjusted in the seat, rolling his eyes that Captain Hubbard required updates in such short intervals. It wasn't like the cargo was going to jettison itself. Ken didn't even bother checking the ship's systems before making the entries. If the Raven had a real problem, it would've alerted him. Besides, if a situation arose, they wouldn't drop everything to make a log into the ship's computer.
Log annoyance aside, Ken hated the cold even more. He'd broached the topic before with Hubbard, but the captain was too damn tight with the pursestrings to add a self-powered Comfort System to the ship. Instead of ponying up the 1,500 qit, Captain Hubbard left the on-board climate system practically off in order to save energy. Ken knew doing so cost less to recharge the Raven when docked, but the cold sucked.
Ken cozied up under the brown blanket and began fading. His body jolted awake as more alert beeps rang out. Had he fallen asleep so quick? It didn't feel like an hour had passed. He glanced at the clock: 02:17. Ken stood, wrapped the blanket around him and shuffled toward the chirping console.
"What the hell?"
The display indicated an obstacle ahead. Ken walked up to the viewport and frowned. He gazed into the infinite darkness of deep space and saw nothing. He leaned closer, feeling the chilled armored glass pull the warmth off his cheeks. Ken peered down the far edges of the viewport and saw nothing on either side of the ship. No debris, no ships, no asteroids.
Three taps on the console cleared the false alarm, sending Ken back to the captain's chair. He mumbled on the way back, flexing the cold out of his fingers. With the bridge kept at thirty degrees, Ken bet the chair was already freezing again. As he approached the seat the floor began vibrating, throwing his balance off. Ken tumbled down as the deck tilted out from under him, hands burning as his palms scraped the floor’s rough metal grating. The rumble intensified as it swept through the bridge, shaking it like a child's plaything. The few items not tied down slid off the consoles and clattered to the ground. Ken's heart raced as he grasped wildly for anything to hold on to as the Raven tumbled through space.
Then it stopped.
The deafening rumble ceased, and the shaking was gone as fast as it had come. Ken's red hands shook and though he was able to get himself upright, his legs felt like they'd collapse at any moment.
Space turbulence? No, that didn't make sense, and he knew it. While FTL-capable ships could leave a small wake of warped space, the way the Raven shook was akin to hitting an asteroid field. Ken furrowed his brow as he scrolled through each of the ship's systems and confirmed there was no damage to the hull.
Not that there was much to be in charge of. The three member crew of the Raven had the glorious responsibility of overseeing its current cargo: energy coils for Faster Than Light drives. It wasn't the most interesting haul, but FTL coils were in high demand since ships burned through them so quick. Ken mind drifted back to sleep when a console let out a soft repeating beep.
He groaned and sat forward to clear the message. It was 02:00 and the hourly log needed an entry. Ken cleared his throat and keyed the console.
"Routine entry, Ken Mallory. May 5, 2405, 02:00. Ship's status mirrors previous updates. No changes since leaving Bridger two weeks ago. ETA to Cogan remains at 53-days."
The system beeped, sending an echo bouncing off the walls of the small bridge, acknowledging the recording as a permanent entry into the ship's log. Ken readjusted in the seat, rolling his eyes that Captain Hubbard required updates in such short intervals. It wasn't like the cargo was going to jettison itself. Ken didn't even bother checking the ship's systems before making the entries. If the Raven had a real problem, it would've alerted him. Besides, if a situation arose, they wouldn't drop everything to make a log into the ship's computer.
Log annoyance aside, Ken hated the cold even more. He'd broached the topic before with Hubbard, but the captain was too damn tight with the pursestrings to add a self-powered Comfort System to the ship. Instead of ponying up the 1,500 qit, Captain Hubbard left the on-board climate system practically off in order to save energy. Ken knew doing so cost less to recharge the Raven when docked, but the cold sucked.
Ken cozied up under the brown blanket and began fading. His body jolted awake as more alert beeps rang out. Had he fallen asleep so quick? It didn't feel like an hour had passed. He glanced at the clock: 02:17. Ken stood, wrapped the blanket around him and shuffled toward the chirping console.
"What the hell?"
The display indicated an obstacle ahead. Ken walked up to the viewport and frowned. He gazed into the infinite darkness of deep space and saw nothing. He leaned closer, feeling the chilled armored glass pull the warmth off his cheeks. Ken peered down the far edges of the viewport and saw nothing on either side of the ship. No debris, no ships, no asteroids.
Three taps on the console cleared the false alarm, sending Ken back to the captain's chair. He mumbled on the way back, flexing the cold out of his fingers. With the bridge kept at thirty degrees, Ken bet the chair was already freezing again. As he approached the seat the floor began vibrating, throwing his balance off. Ken tumbled down as the deck tilted out from under him, hands burning as his palms scraped the floor’s rough metal grating. The rumble intensified as it swept through the bridge, shaking it like a child's plaything. The few items not tied down slid off the consoles and clattered to the ground. Ken's heart raced as he grasped wildly for anything to hold on to as the Raven tumbled through space.
Then it stopped.
The deafening rumble ceased, and the shaking was gone as fast as it had come. Ken's red hands shook and though he was able to get himself upright, his legs felt like they'd collapse at any moment.
Space turbulence? No, that didn't make sense, and he knew it. While FTL-capable ships could leave a small wake of warped space, the way the Raven shook was akin to hitting an asteroid field. Ken furrowed his brow as he scrolled through each of the ship's systems and confirmed there was no damage to the hull.
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