Adrift

(Content Warning: Mild foul language)

“What the hell was that?!” The ship jolted and took a sharp dive to the right. Jeff Tatsuya jumped up to take manual control, spilling the bowl of noodles he was about to start eating. The control column pulled down hard as he attempted a course correction. No luck. She was going down.

A green light flicked on. The screech of the com link coming to life followed. “Everything ok up there? That was quite the bump.” Jeff eyed his lunch spilled across the deck, “yeah, yeah everything is fine. It’s err… just some small asteroid collisions.” No need to worry the guests. The last thing he needed was 200 pissed-off aristocrats leaving bad reviews of his small business.

The great thing about interstellar flight is that if something fails, you typically have some time to figure it out. Space is big. According to the latest statistical publication from Star Trucker holozine, it will take an average of 5 hours to hit something drifting in open space. That is not counting anomalies, of which there are plenty. Jeff figured he’d take full advantage of this alleged time to save the ship and his passengers. And most importantly, his own ass.

The dim outline of the ship fizzled to life onscreen. Jeff gave it a few firm slaps of encouragement and the outline brightened. “SHIP DIAGNOSTIC” read across the top. The rear, right auxiliary thruster was highlighted red and flashing. “Figures, I knew that guy back on Langanski didn’t check the polyhydro lines,” Jeff grumbled. Recalling how much he was charged for a polyhydro line flush. So far, none of the other thrusters have been affected. Maybe it was something minor. A sensor issue, or something. The only way to find out was to check out the maintenance hatch. Which is in the rear of the cargo bay, or what is currently being referred to as “the cabin”. That meant interaction… with the customers.

“Excuse me, Captain Tatsuya! Will there be a meal service?” The questions began hitting Jeff as soon as the cargo bay doors opened. “There should be meals in the back cargo stall…. eh… I mean galley,” Jeff replied. He pointed toward the back while he pushed through the crowd of irritated people. “Sir! Are we still on schedule?!” another passenger shouted. “Everything is going as planned, you will arrive right on time. As promised!” Jeff shouted back. Not even sure which one he was shouting at. “I say, It’s rather stuffy in here, Captain. Could we get some airflow going?” The bombardment of questions was cut off as Jeff slipped through the back of the cargo hold, locking the bulkhead behind him. The thought crossed his mind that taking on passengers may have been a mistake.

The rear of the cargo hold was the space freighter equivalent to a broom closet. A small hatch in the ceiling allows access to the few key systems that exist in the rear of the ship. Mostly the polyhydro lines that control the rear thrusters. Jeff threw open the hatch and a wave of glowing blue polyhydro liquid came spewing out, saturating him in the thick goop. “I’m gonna kill that mechanic if we ever get back to Langanski,” he grumbled. The blue snot-like fluid dripped from his forehead. Well, it definitely wasn’t a sensor issue.

Jeff pulled himself up through the hatch. The polyhydro line leading to the right rear thruster had burst. If he didn’t seal it off, the entire system would drain and all steering would be gone. Between the two rear thrusters is the central junction valve. If he could reach that, he could isolate the right line. Being drenched in ployhydro made it easier to slip through the tight maintenance crawlspaces. The junction value sealed with a loud squeal. “Alright, let’s get these people off my ship,” he murmured to himself. Before he unlocked the bulkhead leading back to the cargo bay, he took a breath. Mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of requests he needed to fight off.

The only spare clothes he had were some tan cargo pants and a Hawaiian shirt. It was not clear where he had even gotten them. Must have been a gift. The sopping wet jumpsuit he was wearing was tossed into the corner. It hit the floor with a wet thud. Time to get back on course. The ship was still steadily headed down and to the right. As he sat in the pilot’s seat, he glanced at his lunch that never was spewed across the floor. With a sigh, he grabbed the controls and pulled.

The ship shuddered and began to pull up slowly. Steering was stiff but it was moving. “Here we go, baby! C’mon!” Jeff yelled. Sweet talking her always worked. The screen showed the ship’s heading gradually beginning to line up with the charted course. A smile broke across his face. This is gonna work. He’d get these fancy-pants people to their vacation homes and his business would take off. No more hauling trash for Jeff Tatsuya! It’d be luxury charters from here on out! Daydreams of magnificent condos on the moon of Fermanian clouded his vision. Until a loud thud interrupted his imaginary sunbathing.

Another thud followed. As if to make sure he was paying attention. Jeff felt his hands jostle with each thud. Suddenly, the controls lurched down and to the right. “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!” he shouted. The screen next to him lit up with the outline of the ship once again. The entire cargo bay was flashing red. A message reading “SYSTEM ERROR” appeared. Outside the viewport, he could see the ship moving back into a dive. Something more serious than a polyhydro leak was apparent.

Around 20 minutes of profanity-laden “sweet talking” and a few dozen “nudges of encouragement” is all it took for Jeff to hypothesize the current issue. The ship’s engine throttle distribution system had shorted out. Most likely somewhere in the cargo hold. What this meant was that the rear right thruster, which was now permanently stuck in the downward position thanks to his quick fix, was getting full power while the other thrusters got about 5 percent. So the ship will continue to be pulled down as long as that engine is running. A polyhydro leak is an easy redirection of fluids. An engine throttle distribution short is not something Jeff had the tools or the time to fix mid-flight. The options here were pretty limited.

The ship of choice for most of the galaxy’s smugglers, outlaws, bandits, and general lowlifes and/or scum is the Julinax H7-98. Not too pretty, fancy, or large to draw attention to yourself. Yet it boasts lots of cargo space to haul stolen property, money, people, whichever poison you participate in. It is not a fast ship, but with its 4 independent thrusters, it is nimble enough to navigate asteroid fields and other heavily covered areas that the aforementioned company like to hide out in. Above all, there is one feature that is a primary selling point. That is its ability to jettison the cargo hold in case of an emergency or unexpected run-in with authorities. In this circumstance, the ship would break in half and the now fugitive pilot could get away using the front two thrusters. Interestingly enough, most of these features are also very useful to someone who runs a garbage-shipping business.

Jeff’s eyes were locked on the red cover that protected the jettison button. If he dumped the cargo hold, he could fly out of here. It might take him a few days to get to the nearest planet. He'd rent a tow ship and come back to pick them up. There is food, they would survive… probably. Granted, they don’t drift into a nearby sun or anything of the like.

With that option, Jeff could kiss his ride-sharing career for the rich and famous goodbye. Trash doesn’t care if you leave it adrift for a few days. Wealthy customers are not too keen on it. The moment he hits that button, all those passengers will light up the comment section of his business profile like the Perseids meteor shower. The only other option is sending out a distress beacon and waiting for a pickup. Problem with that is, anyone who sees a distress call from a Julinax H7-89 usually stays far away from it. It’s most likely a setup for a robbery or a trashman. Neither option would have people running to help.

The comlink screeched to life again, “Ehh… Captain? When will drinks be served?” Jeff flipped up the cover of the jettison button. “Screw it,” he said. The luxury life never suited him anyway.

Before his thumb could get to the button, the entire cockpit turned red. The comlink flicked on but this time a calm robotic voice repeated, “Impact Imminent.” A large dot filled the screen in front of him. It was headed toward the ship’s projected flight path. “I don’t know whose deity I pissed off today,” he muttered. It was time to make a decision. He had to break off the cargo hold to avoid the collision. The choice was made for him. He knew he should have pressed the button. But what drifted into the viewport made him freeze.

An asteroid about 3 times the size of the ship was floating right where they were headed. “Shit…..” he said. If he jettisoned the cargo bay now, it’d be ripped in half by that rock. 200 high-paying customers would be sucked out into space.

He was out of time. Everything inside him screamed to hit the button. These people don’t care about him. He’s just another trash man to them. Besides, customers who get sucked out into space won’t have time to leave bad reviews. It’d be like a fresh start for the business. Problem solved.

However, the thought of having 200 souls on his conscious gave Jeff pause. He couldn’t do that. No matter how many of them were complete asshats. He let out a sigh. “I hope I live to regret this,” he said as he grabbed the controls and pulled. The other 3 thrusters were only around 5 percent. It’s 3 underpowered thrusters against 1 at full-throttle. Maybe it could make enough difference to avoid the collision. He pulled as hard as he could and accelerated. The asteroid started growing as his approaching speed increased.

Beads of sweat formed on his brow. This was gonna be closer than the hair on a gnat’s ass. Details on the surface of the asteroid became clearer. Fascinating, yet one of those things that you wish you hadn’t had the opportunity to see. It was so close that it didn’t appear as an asteroid anymore, more like a black wall. “Please, just get me through this and I’ll fix you up good and proper girl, I swear,” he whispered to the ship. His knuckles turned white on the controls as he leaned into them. Jeff closed his eyes as a loud thud rang throughout the ship and he was thrust forward.

The first thing he could feel was the controls. They were free. Jeff slowly opened his eyes and saw he could move the controls unopposed. He looked out the viewport and saw open galaxy ahead of him. The “IMPACT IMMINENT” symbol still flashed beside him onscreen. He gave it a minute to see if it would catch up with the breaking news of their survival. “I don’t want to hit you” he warned the screen. Still Flashing. Two smacks persuaded the display to blur into its normal flight projection mode. The large dot disappeared quickly behind them.

Jeff relaxed in his chair as the ship drifted up returning to its original course. The circulation in his hands returned as he eased his grip on the controls. The com-link light flashed on as incomprehensible frustration of the passengers filled the cockpit. A red light blinking on the diagnostic screen drew his attention away from the noise. Where the rear thruster once was, was now a red crosshatched area that read, “NO INPUT.” The asteroid had clipped his rear thruster and ripped it off.

The com-link microphone keyed on, cutting off the constant babbling of his passengers. “Sorry for the turbulence. We bumped into an unexpected object. No need to worry,” he announced. There was a pause while he weighed the severity of what he was about to add. “We may experience a slight delay. To accommodate your inconvenience, we will be offering a 10 percent reimbursement,” he winced. The com-link clicked off before any replies could be heard. He glanced down to see the jettison button cover still flipped up. “Should have only offered them 5 percent,” he grumbled. Jeff Tatsuya flipped the cover back down over the button as he set the autopilot and dug through his utility rack for a replacement cup of noodles.