The Scrapper, Ch. 4

Tak gave me one last wave, I gave a smile and a wave back. The airlock whizzed shut between us and I was alone.

“Kal!”

Well, almost alone. Kind of alone? In my head I was alone. Externally-

“I still need to tell you about what I found!”

I had a very excitable new roommate.

I turned from the airlock and walked back onto the main deck, the aftermath of my going-away party strewn everywhere. I collected some of the garbage into an ever-growing pile and desperately wanted to request a cleaning bot. Would they even come through if the maintenance alert was active? I should probably just take all of this out myself.

I ran a hand through my hair and bumped against the autostitcher I’d long since forgotten. The edge was hard, crusty, and before I knew it the whole thing crumbled to pieces. I flicked my hand a few times to dislodge the large chunks and then ruffled that spot of hair to (hopefully) remove the rest. “Son of a…” probing the scarred area I discovered a bald patch. “I’m lucky I woke up if they hit me that hard…” Usually the patches would work around hair, but if enough skin was missing, or a wound was wide enough, the patch would recycle what it needed.

Why whould StationSec hold back on a nondex? I sighed and meandered back towards this mysterious access panel Din kept pointing out. 

“Alright,” I pried it back for the third time in so many minutes, “what am I looking at here besides the lines and the pinhole near my fuel port?”

“The frame itself, of course!”

I stared at the frame, it looked like metal. I reached down to prod it with a finger. It was cool to the touch, same general temperature as everything else around it (minus the pinhole leeching heat into the void). I sat back and looked up, as though Din lived in the ceiling now. “It’s just the frame, I don’t see anything wrong?”

“No no, inside the frame!”

“Din, I don’t know what kind of knowledge you have on human capabilities, but I promise you I cannot see through metal.”

“Oh, right! It’s an alloy!”

“Of course it’s an alloy, if they just sent raw iron into space it would twist itself into scrap before it breeched atmosphere, what are you trying to tell me?”

“The alloy is the part that is special! It contains rubidium!”

“…what?”  A rubidium alloy? I’d never heard of that before. I stared into the access hole, it looked like any other ship frame I’d ever broken down. Crusty on the outside, dark gray on the inside, but I suppose an alloy wouldn’t necessarily look different.

I got up and grabbed my tablet, opening my code database and running a search. The only Rb things showing up were… blackboxes, the whole way down. Nothing about an alloyed frame anywhere to be found. My collection was far from complete, but even hunting through some additional scrapyards on station (and archived inventories from a few off-station) didn’t turn up anything. This ship was far, FAR from new but this seemed… different.

“Okay,” I said, scratching absently at my bald patch, “so what does that mean? Does it interface with a blackbox or something? Give it some extra tuning power?”

“I’m unsure, I have never come across a configuration like this!”

“So, you just wanted to point it out then?”

“Correct!” 

“Consider it pointed out.” 

“TING!” 

“What was that?” 

“I vocalized a check mark!”

Of course it did. The panel slid back into place with a satisfying clunk and I returned my attention to the pile of gear and garbage occupying large portions of the deck.

My tablet blipped as I walked towards the airlock, a message from Tak: 

[Maintenance switch has been flipped, I’ll swing back in an hour or so and get the temp seal installed so it all looks legit, you good on your end?]

I sent back:

[Good over here, about to move all this trash out for the ‘cyclers to pick up. Will move the seal stuff out then. I’ll ping you, you ping me when it’s set and then… I’ll catch you later I guess]

[Ack n’ flap, bromigo. Fly safe, keep your head on]

I put the tablet away and exited back through the station-side airlock. The hovering display had gone from angry red to a grumpy orange-brown and I could read the MAINTENANCE * * NO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL * * scrolling across the top next to a thesis on why you shouldn’t pass through this barrier, doing so constitutes acknowledgment of this risk, etc. My waiver's on file, holodisplay, the Big3 aren't liable for what I’m about to do.

A nearby skiff was my target out here. I found one parked a bay over, stuck in wait-mode for whoever rented it to come back. Its timer was still ticking down whether it was being used or not so I figured someone ought to get their credit’s worth out of it.

I tapped the display built into the handle and the panel woke up. “03:42:11 REMAINING” it flashed. Next to that was the bay it had been assigned to and what looked like the initials of the renter. I stole a look around the rest of 2A. Thankfully most of the tourist crowd stuck to the upper levels but there was an occasional passerby, whether it be a civilian or station personnel.

It was clear enough that I could pull this off, I decided. Fun thing with these skiffs: if you could shunt them off their magrail, or force a reset, they would go back to their default config. You could use them like normal after that. Tricky part was getting the electromags to release long enough to shove the cart off, killing power to a rail though?

Well, that might be an issue for tourists, for folks like me that grew up inside the maintenance ducts where all these inner workings got tucked away, this was just part of life. I traced the scuffed paint trail to a junction panel in the floor, removed a few screws, and there it was: the power hub that controlled this chunk of the dock.

I pulled out a voltjumper, something I would normally use to short out a jammed door that didn’t have power on a salvage ship, and started applying one side of it’s metal blade to the individual power conduits in succession. The lights winked out on my bay, not that one… The holodisplay was next, okay, so probably skip this next cable and this one…? That was the dimming function on the observation windows. Who wired this thing? I resolved to test one-by-one until I found the wire that made hoverskiff start to dip like it was going to crash to the floor. 

Four cables later, “Here it is!” With a decisive stab I plunged both ends of the voltjumper into the cable. Sparks shot out from both sides and the plastic components of the jumper itself started smoking. I let it run for as long as my hand could take the heat, ripping it back out just as the outer casing started to deform in my grip. The skiff itself was rocking back and forth, each of the four liftmags having trouble finding their balance as the magrail itself struggled to maintain power. With a final explosion of sparks from where I’d stabbed it, the cable itself shorted and the hub shut it down for safety. The skiff settled down to the floor as it lost power and I could see the panel rebooting itself from where I was crouched. Smiling, I replaced the access panel and screwed it shut. The skiff itself powered on and the lifters kicked back on, lifting it back into the air. I drafted up a MaintReq for the cabling to be repaired and forwarded it along to Tak. He sent back an eye-rolling picture. 

I checked the display. “SYSTEM INIT - WELCOME TO BRK-GL1! PLEASE USE THIS COMPLEMENTARY SKIFF AS A TOKEN OF OUR GOODWILL. PLEASE RETURN THIS SKIFF TO CHARGING BAY 2A-FF WHEN YOU ARE FINISHED, AND HAVE A PLEASANT STAY!” 

Heh, got it.

I grabbed the handlebar and spun the whole thing around to face my docking bay, leaning into it. Eventually it started floating in the right direction. You’d think they would turn up the sensitivity on these so they were easier to push and pull. Then again if they eased up on the electromags keeping these upright… I bet local gravity would throw them around a lot. That or folks would go joyriding the eletromag rails. 

I stopped and pulled my tablet back out, making a note: “electromag-boarding?” and returned to pushing the heavy flatbed over onto the magline in front of my ship. 

The maintenance display flashed adamantly at me as I floated the skiff through, something about “NO CIVILIAN ACCESS ALLOWED, OFFICIAL STATION PERSONNEL ONLY” that I ignored. The airlocks whizzed open for me and I was back to trying to clean up the mess on my deck.

30 minutes later I’d gotten everything picked up and loaded onto the skiff I wasn’t planning to reuse and I’d set an autopath outside to the recycler pickup. Should take care of that loose end. While that was drifting through the docking tunnel, I fetched one of the emergency scaffolds, the beamwelder, and magblocked a few pieces of sheet metal together so I could walk them out in one go. Despite being a “lighter” alloy of iron, it was still a hefty 30kg or so. The “lesser” gravity here really should help with that, but when you grow up in low gravity, your muscles don’t develop like they would planetside. At some point heavy is still heavy no matter what kind of gravity you’re in. Dammit, I should've put this junk on the skiff.

I roll-walked my way down the tube, holding the panels against my hip with both hands and pivoting on the opposite foot. My boots clanked against the floor panels and I watched every grate section bowing under the weight as I went. The airlock to the station whizzed open as I got closer and I heard a concerning groan from the tunnel supports. That's not good, but this entire assembly is going to need replacing soon anyway. 

The plates fell heavily to the floor once I was on the other side, my arms properly on fire from the exertion, my breath came in short gasps. Note to self: check the O2 levels back on OLGa, that pinhole might be leaking more air than I thought.

A group of tourists stood near one of the bays, talking with each other, looking through their tablets and probably trying to figure out why their economy class tour shuttle dropped them off down here. One of them saw me looking, made eye contact, and started walking towards me. Great, here we go…

I made myself look busy, tipping the metal plates down onto the ground, each of them let out a puff of air just before they made full contact with the floor. The beam welder I brought with me was fully charged and ready to go, but of course I left my goggles in my tote back on the ship. Dammit. The footsteps were already too close, dammit I couldn’t sneak away now.

“Hi there! Excuse me?" a sweet voice directed at the back of my head. "I was just wondering how we get up to the main concourse? We seem to have been abandoned down here in the… sorry are you a local?”

I turned around, acting like I didn't know they were approaching this entire time. “Hi, uh… yeah, I am,” a sigh escaped before I could stop it. “Where are you trying to get to?”

“Oh perfect! Specifically we’re looking for the Gilded Harper?”

I ran a hand through my hair, crossing over that stupid bald patch again, trying to feign the old ‘let me think about it’ routine. Really my head was just starting to hurt. “Gilded Harper… pretty sure if you head up the ramp there and get on the main elevators, it’s topside in the…” this was hard actually, I really only knew the area by maps. “I think it’s in sector F3?”

The tourist cocked their head to the side, a little green charm dangled out from beneath their hair, catching the light. “F3?”

I nodded, “Yeah that’s… sorry I’m not super familiar with the area, but if you take the main elevators from the concourse to the upper levels, that should get you close. Hopefully someone there can get you the rest of the way.” I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly.

They gave me a sweet smile, said thanks, and strolled back to their group. They seemed nice, I hope they don’t get mugged on the way.

I turned back to my endeavor and replayed my next steps, because apparently I’m tired and have to remind myself constantly what I’m doing. Right, goggles in ship. Gotta cycle through again. So I did: one whizzy door, through the tunnel, whizzy door, grab my tote, grab the goggles, put them around my neck on the way back out the whizzy door, down the tunnel, whizzy door…

Back in the bay and most of the people had cleared out again. Good, I don’t need folks asking me questions. I pulled the goggles up over my eyes, tapped the trigger on the welder a couple times to test it and the auto-dim function, all good. I knelt down and held the trigger, watching the metal slowly turn into a puddle as I dragged the nozzle of the welder across it. In a short few minutes I turned 4 panels into one large sheet, just big enough to cover up the circular airlock with some overhang. 

I pulled my eye protection down and checked the weld beads for holes. This was pretty thin material so I wouldn’t be surprised if I had punched through it. Worse yet depending on how much air pressure the station was pushing, the weld itself might just snap. Oh well, there’s emergency bulkheads for stuff like that, but it’ would set off a sector wide alarm. I’m not exactly StaMaint so no one’s going to fine me for not following proper welding specs, but the bulks closing would definitely tell StationSec something going on down here.

I propped the panel up next to the airlock, along with one of the emergency scaffolding kits. I put the magblocks next to the scaffold and triple checked everything was here. Tak should be able to turn this into a reasonable seal, and I had plenty to do with OLGa while I waited for him.

Back on deck and things were looking better. The trash was gone, my gear was setup more or less where I wanted it (but not secured down, note to self), and things were going about as smooth as I could hope. 

“Welcome Back Inside! For the [FOURTH] Time!” Din announced.

“I really wish you hadn’t been counting every time I’ve cycled, there’s gonna be a lot more of it.”

“Apologies, there’s just so much going on now it’s hard being cooped up and not interacting!”

“Definitely a lot happening, that’s for sure. I’m about to go do a walk and I’m sure this suit has a radio, so we can chat while I’m doing repairs outside. How’s that sound?”

“THAT SOUNDS GREAT!” I could hear the additional inflection and presumably voltage Din was putting into how they spoke, it was fascinating to watch as it actively learned.

I approached the shiny suit that Tak and I had stood up in a corner. I didn’t have a proper chamber to set this in to prep it, let alone to equip in the event of an emergency, but this corner was close to a couple outlets and air lines to resupply from. I held down the external display button and waited for the system to boot. Fans whirred in various places both inside and outside, lights starting from the feet flashed and worked their way up to the headlamps which flashed through different modes including a full power beam that left me with spots in my vision. Note to self, don’t stand in front of the suit while it’s booting.

I looked away, shaking my head and blinking. The external display finally loaded and a dim green holodisplay shot up from a small projector that folded out from the suit’s tech panel.

Reading backwards was never difficult for me, but this display kept buzzing in and out. “Probably just needs charge…” I muttered, reaching around behind to one of the outlets. I pulled the cable from spool, ratchets clicking to keep the length where I wanted. I dropped the magplug on the direct charge port of the suit but then thought better of it and swapped to the backup battery plug. If I was lucky, something this high-end would have passthrough and I could still work on the suit itself while the backups charged. If not, I’d rather have the backups ready to go when I did want to get in.

Speaking of backups… I circled around to the back of the suit and disengaged the helmet lock. I expected a hiss of gasses equalizing but was mildly surprised when all I heard was the mechanical click. I haven’t run this in vacuum yet, no surprise it wasn’t pressurized. Lifting the helmet to peer inside, I saw exactly what I was hoping for - an ear piece. It detached and already had some charge based on the glowing bar of lights. 

I popped the radio in, it was a snug fit, going so far as to put pressure against my ear drum. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but I’m willing to bet it feels better once it was under pressure inside the whole suit. Circling around to the front I poked at the radio module, waiting for the successful connection beeps between the two devices. *DING BLONG* Great, now to pair this to the ship itself…

“Are You Setting Up The Radio, Kal?” I could practically hear Din bouncing around.

“Sure am, just gotta figure out what frequency we should use,” I made my way up the stairs to the cockpit, adjusting the earpiece as I went, seriously this thing needed a pressure relief valve.

“I Can Help With That! I Have Been Scanning Available Channels!” I could see the displays and terminals lighting up along the control panel. Din brought the nearby radio frequencies to the center display, it’s synthesized voice beaming with digital pride, “There Are So MANY Conversations Happening!”

It wasn’t wrong, there was a dizzying array of open mics, poorly secured feeds, and… “Din, are these unsecured cameras? INSIDE other ships??”

“Correct!”

My brain shorted out. There was… at LEAST 85 camera feeds ranging from cockpits to galleys to bedrooms to medical suites, shit there were even a few stationside cameras.

“Din did you hack these? We can’t do that, it’ll get us flagged by StationAI!”

Din created the digital equivalent of a HMPH, “I did not connect to these by any illegal means and I am insulted that you think I would.” Neat, the baby AI can pout. “As I said before, these are available channels meaning they had no secure access requirements.”

“Okay... in the future can we discuss things like this beforehand? I bet StationAI would give you a pass while we’re here, but on other stations I don’t know how forgiving they’ll be.”

“… What do you mean?”

“Well… suppose you are a StationAI, and someone comes to visit. You’ve got cameras and conversations and private things happening… and suddenly this visitor is looking at all of those things without asking.”

“So, you’re saying we should Ask First?”

“Well… in an ideal galaxy, yes, we would Ask First. Things are usually more complicated than that though… so let’s talk it out between us before we start accessing unsecured cameras and displays, okay?”

I could hear electrical things clicking and chunking inside the control panel and that worried me. Electrical fires in space were bad. I was just turning to locate my extinguisher when they stopped. The central display suddenly cleared and I was left with what I wanted originally: the radio frequency scanner. 

“I will Ask Kal First for future scanning access. Registered.” Din sounded a bit defeated.

Keeper, I really was going to have to babysit this program until it learned how to self-regulate. Flashbacks to my own childhood and helping to raise literal children in the sublevels came flooding back to me. I pressed my eyes together, trying to will the memories away.

“Don’t pout, we just need to be careful, Din. It’s just you, me, and Our Lady’s Gambit. We need to work together as a team to stay safe. It’s actually good you did this now, I didn’t know you were so capable with just the built-in sensors. Better to find that out now than when we’re on a hostile station and people are trying to break down the airlock!” I laughed nervously to myself, that was still a distinct possibility.

“Understood. We will work together As A Team! COLON PARENTHESES” 

That last bit caught me off guard… “Did you try to speak a smiley face?”

“Yes!”

I nodded, yep. Baby AI. Babysitting a Baby AI. The price of freedom was being chained to a thing learning how to exist. Keeper help me.

“Din, could you find me a channel that’s not populated so we can get the suit and ship linked up, yeah?”

“On It!”, the frequency scanner lit up, rolling through a few different spectrums of noise before it settled on one. “Encrypting feed…”

*Kssh* my earpiece suddenly making noise, “Can You Hear Me?”

I smiled, “Loud and clear, Din.”

“Yay!” it cheered.

I stood up and made my way back downstairs to the deck. “Now we can keep in contact while I’m in range, but it might get a little choppy as I’m going back and forth.”

“I Will Try To Adjust For That!”

My pile of goods had dwindled, becoming just the few remaining things on deck that I was going to need soon. I picked up half of the directed explosive charges and refreshed myself on their handy directions, printed on the packaging.

- Remove all wrapping and plastic from exterior *KEEP THESE INSTRUCTIONS* -
- Press and mold DEC to desired shape. Remember: Cones Blow Holes, Flat Makes Black -
(Is that supposed to rhyme?)
- Place included charges as close to center of mass as possible -
- Sync charge radio with included Detonator *SYNC ALL CHARGES BEFORE CONTINUING* 
- Retreat to a safe distance, arm Detonator, and pull trigger -

That all seems obvious, but trust me when I say there are people who have tried to “test” the detonators before actually placing the charges. Those people were found in pieces, occasionally with a chunk of hull missing. Thankfully I’ve used these before, and NO I haven’t lost any fingers, thank you. (We aren’t going to discuss the time Tak went flying through a thin wall because we didn't communicate before I pulled the trigger, he didn’t talk to me for a week after that.)

I scooped up the moldable putty, the charges, and the detonator and went back towards the station airlock. Halfway through the tunnel when the airlock would normally open, I noted that it stayed closed. “Oh good, Tak’s probably setting up.” 

When I reached the door, I gave it two pounds with my fist. After a moment, I heard two from the other side. Nodding, I pulled my tablet out. 

—————————————————————————————————————————
>>SPERE.MC>Strakes: hows it coming out there?
>>SPERE.MC>TakItOrLeaveIt: still getting set up. you sure this panel is thick enough?
>>SPERE.MC>Strakes: yeah I’m worried about that too. bulkheads should catch it if it’s not though
>>SPERE.MC>TakItOrLeaveIt: will that give you enough time to jet?
>>SPERE.MC>Strakes: only one way to find out
>>SPERE.MC>TakItOrLeaveIt: oy, gimme another hour and let me reinforce it at least. dummy
>>SPERE.MC>Strakes: I still need to install the solar catchers so that works for me>>SPERE.MC>TakItOrLeaveIt: ack that
>>SPERE.MC>Strakes - - DISCONNECTED
—————————————————————————————————————————

I put the tablet away and ran a hand along the frame of the airlock. Regular gaps where I had pulled the bolts out when I first docked told me where I needed to put the putty. These ten spaces wouldn’t sever the tunnel, but they would reduce the amount of cutting I’d need to do. I made sure to get directed charges, otherwise I’d just be setting off explosions next to a vacuum. Strong chance of fucking something up. 

*Kssh* “What are you doing out there, Kal?”

“Just trying to reduce my work load,” I answered, “we can discuss all the nuance of this after we leave.”

“Noted: Discuss Nuance of Escape!” I was on my tiptoes, pressing putty into an empty bolthole at the top of the ring.

“Not… what I meant, but close enough…” I set back flat on my feet with a grunt. “Speaking of, you’ve got access to the forward senors, right?”

“Affirmative!”

“Do me a favor and plot us from here to.. Damn what was the call sign of that station… IP.. FR something?”

“Searching… I have 5 stations in the local system, closest matches are: MCJ-IFR and ISP-FL”

“The second one, we don’t want to go to the MCJ.” 

Mining Cluster Jail - Interpass from Radum. We do NOT want to go the MCJ.

“I Will Plot Out the Astrometrics! Do you want me to inform you when I’m done?”

“Yes, I’m going to keep working out here.” I turned to keep working and had a thought, “Feel free to keep watching me with OLGa’s cams. I don’t mind that.”

“Understood!!” excitement from a synthesized voice, how and where did it learn to do that?

I pressed an explosive charge into each of the putty masses and retrieved the detonator from my belt. I made damn sure the safety latch was hooked on the trigger before messing with anything else, but the process of syncing each charge to the device was simple. Ten lights flashing in front of me, ten lights on the detonator display. Perfect. 

Passing through the airlock on my side I wondered if I should set the other charges now, or wait until I was a safe distance away, or I could try and save them and try to just cut through the airlock screw? It’s not like I’d be flying in-atmo anytime soon, so having the tunnel still attached shouldn’t be a huge issue… I’d just look like an escaped convict until I actually got it detached. Docking with that wasn’t going to happen either. First things first, I need to break the connecting rods or I’m not going anywhere.

I felt giddy for the first time in a while, it was time to suit up!

The Benevolent Gilt Mk.3 Space Suit slipped on like a glove, a thick, battery powered, exo-skel supported, atmosphere recycling glove. Stepping in I was worried about fitment, but then the auto-adjust kicked over and man, this thing is worth the price. Small padded sections pressed against me, probably backed by the air it was cycling through to keep pressure. I was right about one thing, no way was I going to be able to sleep in this. The helmet clicked into place and a gush of air told me I was sealed shut.

Din connected and was excitedly flicking through all of the various features. My headlamps clicked on and off, the holodisplay burst into view with code excitedly scribbling itself on terminal windows that open and closed before I could make any of the commands out. The worst was when all of my RCS thrusters fired simultaneously. The suit immediately threw several very loud alarms in my face and ears while I struggled to remain upright.

“Din, buddy! Please stop for a second!” I was frantically pressing buttons and flicking switches on the chest control panel, trying to get the strobing alarm to stop exploding my eardrums.

“Apologies!” Din, muted the alarm and a second later managed to cut the alert lights. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and tried to let the anxiety flow out of me. That new suit smell flooded my nostrils and I was in heaven for a moment… you just can’t synthesize that. I opened my eyes again and tested out my flexibility and how mobile I'd be. I took a couple laps around the deck to get a feel for how the exo-skel was assisting and it felt a bit like wearing a heavily padded coverall and walking through water, except this could keep me alive in vacuum.

I’d been mulling over how I was going to get outside with my airlock out of commission, and after a lot of consideration I felt there was only one real option: I’d have to go out through one of the thruster access panels. Our Lady’s Gambit was too small to have multiple airlocks, and the cargo port on the belly wasn't wide enough to fit an exosuit through, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t seal off sections inside to maintain atmosphere. I could seal the door to the engine bay and cycle myself by breaking the seal on the thruster housing. Was this advisable? Not at all. I wasn’t entirely sure this suit would fit without me having to dismantle more of the hull than I wanted. But, I figured, getting outside in the first place would give me more than enough room to pull the rest of my equipment through.

I hooked the beam welder to my suit belt, and secured the PlasSaw to a holster mounted on the back. Thankfully the saw was relatively flat so it wasn’t adding too much extra bulk. I stepped through the door into the engine bay and the door whooshed shut behind me. I looked back and pressed the “Lock” button, waited for that to cycle, then pressed the “Seal” button next to it. Circular panels in the door spun, blocking this room from the atmosphere of the next. So far so good.

“What is your plan, Kal?” Din asked in my ear.

“The plan,” I said, tugging unsuccessfully at the housing on the thruster to my left, “is to get outside, through here.” For how rusty this ship is, it was curious how resilient certain pieces were.

“That does not seem like a Safe Idea,” it sounded concerned.

“Yeah well, neither is setting off explosives next to the station. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” I kicked the panel and an edge finally popped up. I grabbed on with both hands and felt the exo-skel kick in, helping me rip the rusted chunk of metal down to the ground. 

I was staring at the thruster body itself. These were some kind of titanium alloy last I knew, designed to handle the intense heat coming from the Chalox fuel, the stuff everyone used for local space travel. One of these days I’d have to figure out what exactly that was, something with liquid O2 in it.

I sighed, venting atmosphere was never a fun process. I pulled out my adjustable auto-wrench and started disassembling as much of the hull plate as I could get to from here, pulling them down into the engine bay as I went, eventually climbing up further until I reached the glasstic sealant the majority of ships used. At least that’s what I expected to see, what I found was a much older rubber-foam compound. This stuff used to get sprayed on ships before they attached the external hull plates. Keeper, that puts this ship at… 80 years or so? How the hell has this thing survived so long?

No matter, just means it’s easier to cut. I pulled the beam welder from my belt and (after a few test blasts) started burning my way through the seal. Smoke poured out from the mass as the foam bubbled and burned. I was very thankful to be in the suit at this point, it’s no wonder we moved away from this toxin spewing junk.

My breath hitched and my entire body clenched as I pushed too far and suddenly smoke was being sucked out of the ship along with the rest of the rapidly condensing air. I took a second to steady myself, letting the pressure fully drop and the frost on my visor to clear up so I could finish this correctly. 

“Alert! Hull breach!” Din relayed, in a mostly calm way this time.

“Acknowledged, that was me. I’ve broken through to outside and I’m going to make this hole bigger now.”

“Understood, please be careful!” It was weird to have something (someone?) suddenly caring for me so much. It was annoying in a way. Who was this program that thought it cared about me? I’m just the babysitter here. Stay focused, Stra’kal, there’s more important things to deal with. Now is not the time to get distracted.

My eyes flicked down to my status readout, a convenient series of bars being projected on the bottom left of my helmet visor. Batteries holding at 94%, remaining air supply approx. 118 minutes, thrusters check, suit exo-skel check. Everything running as well as it could be. I'm stalling.

I pulled the PlasSaw off my back now that I had a clear view of where I was working. The miniature laser accumulator in this thing would actually heat the tip of each passing blade until they were near plasma themselves, but they spun at such a frequency that the plasma disbursed itself and became a thin layer of raw cutting power. PlasSaws could cut through anything, if you had enough time.

I hoisted the tool above my head and began pressing through the black foam near the hole I’d just made. Again and again I cut straight lines until I had a nice “me” sized square to work my way out of. I punched the panel, harder than I wanted to, and the newly liberated plate went flying off into the void. “Probably should have tried to hang onto that,” I panted to myself. My breath started to condense on the visor but then a tiny fan kicked on and whisked all that humidity away without any input from me. I love this suit. I reattached the saw to my back and awkwardly clambered up and then out onto the hull of my ship.

Here I could see OLGa in all her glory: rusted, but still very functional, and now with a fresh "maintenance access" hatch. First things first: I hooked my safety line to one of the rails that extended the length of the shuttle. There were fewer of these than you’d find on a bigger vessel, but that’s because shuttle maintenance tended to happen in-atmo, usually in dock, and not free-hand in space. Still, these would get me where I needed to be.

I pulled myself along the convenient hand holds, swapping rails so I could approach the docking tunnel and the connecting rods I needed to cut. I stood up, the length of the tunnel extending “up” away from me. Looking towards the “top” of the tunnel, through some of the observation windows, I could just make out the orange glow of the maintenance alert. 

“Hey, Din?”

“Hello, Kal!”

“Any messages from Tak?”

“Are you allowing me to access and read those?” Was Din pouting, or just being thorough?

“As long as you don’t give those messages out to anyone else without my permission, sure. That also goes for any talks you and I have.”

“Understood! Accessing… . . . No new messages.”

“Thanks, I’m going to get started out here. Let me know if anything comes through.”

“Acknowledged!”

I removed the PlasSaw and eyeballed the eight rods hooking my end of the tunnel to the station. Normally if I had permission to undock, those would unhook from their slots in the airlock and then retract back into the station. In this instance those were stuck in place, and it was easier to just cut all these at the hinge.

In my head the saw made a loud, whirring and screeching noise as I attacked the first hinge. In reality it was totally silent out here in vacuum, and the sparks that flared away into the darkness were freezing as fast as they were made. The only sound was my breathing and occasional radio static. I finished the first arm and went to the next, then the third, fourth, fifth… 

I checked my HUD again: 76% battery, approx. 40 min remaining air, thrusters check, exo-skel check. Apparently I was breathing more than I realized. I finished the 5th arm and realized I was at the end of my tether. So I holstered the saw and started climbing back to the top of the tunnel. As I crested and started crossing over to climb down the other side, I saw a flash of red from the station. I looked up, staring, but the observation windows were dark. I looked at the other ships docked around this bay and saw the normally green lights above each turn red, then begin flashing. “Uhhh, Din? Did something happen?”

No immediate reply. A beep in my ear, I ignored it and tried to cycle the suit radio to pick up any chatter. All I got was static, when I tuned back to OLGa’s secure feed Din was already speaking.

“-ert! Alert! Something is wrong!”

“What’s going on, Din? Why’s everything locked down?”

“I do not know! Suddenly I was blocked from station communications and now other ships are sending the same warning!”

“What warning?”

“WARNING: SECURITY LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT, SHELTER IN PLACE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE”

“Shit that’s not good… can you get a camera inside the dock?”

“But you just told me I should not do that without permission!”

“This is an emergency, Din, we need to know what’s happening!”

I was already climbing back to the poor-man’s hatch I’d made in my thruster. The difficulty in maintaining the mental wherewithal to actually make the proper rail changes was infuriating. Why was safety so tedious and slow?! I unhooked as I got close and slung one leg down the hole I made, misjudged my footing and immediately slammed into hull chest first, knocking the air from me. I was lodged there so I wasn’t in any danger of drifting off but dammit, this is why safety matters…

I collected myself and squirmed back down into the engine bay. I reached to unseal the hatch and remembered none of this was sealed back up yet. I turned to look for a piece of metal I could maybe weld in place if I had-

“Kal! Hurry! I have a Camera but it looks like Tak is in trouble!”

Shit, no time. Thankfully I was still suited up but I was going to lose pressure inside the ship. I faced the door and held down the button until the alarm lights started flashing and the seal broke. The gush of air blasting past me made me instinctively squint my eyes, though my helmet was keeping all of that from me. I still had to plant my feet to keep from being thrown back and my suit threw temperature alarms as the air flash froze. I wedged through the doorway as soon as it was wide enough and immediately held the seal button on the other side. Thankfully this was a much faster process and the door slammed shut with an unexpected amount of force. 

Red alerts flashed throughout the ship as the air circulator blasted an emergency flush to return breathable air. The entire deck looked like a giant ball of fire from the air condensing and flashing alarms. I climbed the stairs to the cockpit two at a time and started scanning the control panel. Multiple red lights hovered above the various ship compartments that were still repressurizing, those alerts would have to wait. I skimmed the console, looking for whatever feed Din had found. “Well?? Where is he? What’s going on?”

Din pulled up a camera display that overlooked 2A and sure enough, right in front of my bay was Tak arguing with Odie and what appeared to be a few additional StationSec grunts. Nearby the flimsy panel I'd welded was leaning against the airlock, scaffold and magblocks still on the ground. Odie emphatically spit-talking at Tak while Tak appeared to be flustered, but holding his ground. The grunts in the back had weapons drawn and were cycling between Tak and the airlock itself. The dock was vacant expect for these few people, and an automated message scrolled across the welcome board.

* * WARNING * *
* * STATION SECURITY EVENT IN PROGRESS * * 
* * DO NOT IMPEDE OFFICERS * *
* * PLEASE SHELTER IN PLACE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE * *

This is bad… I’m not severed enough to get out of here in without massive damage to my ship, and there's no way Tak could keep them from coming down the tunnel indefinitely… 

Suddenly the feed went dark. I tapped around the screen, hunting for where it had gone. “What happened? Where did the camera go?”

“I am sorry,” Din said, “my connection was severed.”