Existential Threat: Prologue (Patreon)

Prologue

17/04/2242

Victor Ramirez made to push back his hair, finding only the fuzz of his short haircut he was still getting used to.

The playful edge to his smile, the way his brown eyes had danced before was dulled and altered. The Rukian cooperation had been scraped off his coveralls and replaced.

He studied the aged off-white of the room, the squeaky tiles worn and cracked by age, other customers like him and trolleys coming in and out.

A counter with four people behind it, separated by plastic-glass tapped at screens, sometimes heading back to return with a package, putting it through the space between the screens and counter.

“Next!” A woman at the counter broke him from his studies.

“Vinnie Rogers, Set Shipping Solutions sent me over to collect some packages?” He affected his best half-hearted smile.

“Right, you got id?”

“Sure,” Ramirez dug around in his pockets as she tapped out something on her screen. He checked the id, faithfully declaring him as Vinnie Rogers, and slid it under the plastic wall covering her station.

She held it up in her fingers, tapping out numbers from the card into her screen before pushing it back.

“Come around the side loading door three, suggest you grab a cart.”

“Alright, thanks,” Ramirez tucked his ID away.

“Next!”

Ramirez pushed out of the doors, wiping his free hand against his branded coveralls. He grabbed a cart and pushed it down the side of the building several loading docks had station vehicles being loaded with goods.

“Pickup for Set Shipping?” A man checking a screen said from gate three as Ramirezy pushed up.

“Yeah.”

“Come with me,” He walked into the warehouse, not waiting on Ramirez who pushed the cart after him.

“Three forty A, Three twenty-ah,” He tapped his screen, nodding his chin at the pile of packages. “Seven in total, all yours, have a good one.”

“Thanks,” Ramirez said to the man’s back, heading into the warehouse. He scanned the aisle, hearing people in the warehouse, some machine beeping as it backed up. No one was watching him.

He grabbed the packages, stacking them on the cart, glancing around.

Still no one there.

He got the last package on and pushed towards the door, forcing himself to slow as he crossed the doorway. He passed others with the same carts, piled with parts, tools, paint and other materials, each had worn coveralls that spoke of hard work and at-home repairs. They were just a few corridors over from docks, the industrial businesses not wanting to go far to sell their items.  weaving through the corridors that had become familiar.

Instead of heading to the Set Shipping Solutions headquarters and yard, he diverted towards the private slips, pulling out his screen.

Varjay Rossari had been given permission to undock.

Bang!

The cart shook in his grip as he crashed into another cart coming around the corner. His heart shooting into his throat as two of the hastily stacked packages fell on the ground.

“Shit!” The other cart pusher yelled, spotting his screen. “The fuck you doing, watch where you’re going!”

Ramirez picked up the packages and stacked them up on his cart and made to push away.

“Not even going to say sorry? Fucking Coalie,” The man sneered.

Ramirez’s fists tightened on the cart handles “At least I was on the right side of the fucking corridor Fedo.”

“Fuck you say?” The man growled, taking a half-step forward.

Ramirez pictured taking the screwdriver in his belt and smashing it into the other man’s face, stabbing it into his gut repeatedly. Now is not the time. He’d pay, they’d all pay for what they did to his family.

Others were gathering at their raised voices and those that had stopped looked over, unsure what to do.

“Whatever.” Ramirez pushed his cart away.

“You better run Coalie.”

“Just stay fat, happy and ignorant,” Ramirez turned a corner and picked up his pace. He couldn’t get into a fight this soon, not when he was so close.

The corridors sped by, the acceleration that simulated gravity fading away.

“Hey Vinnie!” Someone called out, one of his co-workers, Ramirez kept moving, no time to talk and he wouldn’t ever have to make awkward small-talk with them ever again.

He slowed as he reached the docks, pulling out his soft cap and gloves, sealing them as he scanned for the customs agents and police that patrolled the area randomly.

Ramirez slipped into the airlock, lights playing their tune as the inner door closed, pumping down slightly and then opening again. It wasn’t a full airlock requiring him to go into vacuum.

The cart was muffled as his footsteps were louder in his suit, he quickly walked down the rows of docks.

Crews boarded and departed, carts like his own dropped off or picked up items. Arms overhead did the heavy lifting shifting containers back and forth.

Ramirez reached an airlock and gangway tube, pulling out a card he slid it into the reader and tapped out a password, the airlock opened, too small for the cart.

Smart way to keep the carts on the station.

Ramirez quickly picked up the packages transferring them into the airlock and pushed the cart away.

Two customs officers were talking to someone on the dock, Ramirez kept his head down, making it back to the airlock and passing through, locking the door after him.

He checked his suit seals and began the pump-down.

Vaccuum closed down the noise around him as he stacked the packages, they barely weighed anything in the low-g.

The lights changed color and the outer airlock opened.

Ramirez moved into the gangway, pushing the door closed behind him, crossing to the ship’s airlock, he hit the opening mechanism with his elbow, pushing into the airlock and closing it behind him, noise returned as the air did and he pushed through the inner airlock into the ship.

It was well worn, the rubberized deck peeling in places, but there was no rust, graffiti tags, metal shone where it had been polished down and the repairs were neat and carefully done.

He stored the packages in webbing nets, pulling out his screen.

“I have the parts, the tools, and the scrap,” He moved through the freighter’s kitchenette and into the small bridge, three hard worked stations, one of them the flight station.

“No ice hauler, but you’ll do,” He slid into his seat and threw the information on his screen to his seat’s dedicated ones, slipping his personal screen away.

“Fuel topped up, sensors all good, bringing reactor out of standby.” He went through his list.

“We’re green across the board,” He keyed open a chat with the station’s local space controller.

“This is Varjay Rossari of the Purple-liner, requesting permission to undock.”

“Purple-liner, this is Doderon flight control. We’ve got one the Set Shipping Solution’s freighters coming in, we’ll have a lane clear for you in three minutes, sending you over your coordinates, stay to the boxes and safe flying. We’ll disengage you in three unless something comes up.”

“Thank you flight control, Purple-liner out.”

Ramirez pulled up the flight plan that would guide him out of the station’s space and set him up on a run for the nearest lagrange.

He absently reviewed the local space information, two of the fourteen freighters Set Shipping Solutions controlled were docked, each of them being loaded with containers of scrap to be sent on to Orion system. A third, one of the biggest freighters at the station came to relative zero as over a dozen clamps reached out to secure the vessel.

“And most of the other ships are dropping off their scrap. Never thought it would be so hard to get containers of scrap metals.”

He checked his load’s parameters, opening and closing his right hand. I’d just open a package and then they’d give me flight permission.

“Station gangway disengaging,” The ship’s computer notified him.

Through the cameras the gangway retracted back into the station.

“Clamps unlocking.”

They too drifted back towards the station as Ramirez hit the three minute mark.

A puff of thrusters pushed him clear of the station and other ships docked around him. He slid through the boxes laid out in a path, pushing power into his main engine, the boxes passed slowly and then faster as he flew.

He let out a sigh as he cleared the last box, checking his heading and setting the rate of acceleration, weight returned to his body as he stretched in his seat.

“Now the real work begins.” He pushed out of his seat and returned to the packages, pulling them out and opening them, laying them out on the floor.

Sphere World structural supports, chips, powerplant and two repair tools lay among the discarded packaging.

Ramirez pulled out a piece of paper from inside his coveralls, flattening out the creased page.

He put the supports together, using the repair tool to attach them, adding in the powerplant, chipsets, and the two repair tools.

He powered up the non-descript box he’d built, nothing appeared to happen. He pulled out a cord, slotting it into one of the chipsets and plugging it into his phone.

A menu appeared on his phone. The tension in his shoulders slid away. For the first time in a long time he was once again in control.

“I’m gonna fucking tear the Federation down to the bedrock. I’ll show them what it is like to live in fear, to live with someone else determining their future.”