Writing. Culture. Politics. Wandering.
Halfway through final revision of Coasting Quiet, a science fiction short on meeting a fate of dying alone. Originally written over a decade ago, I recently picked it up again to rewrite and – most likely – publish.
It’s a relative straightforward story, a transcript of a woman’s recordings as she finds herself a castaway on a streaking derelict. A damaged vessel beyond salvation coasting out into the void to the back of beyond.
A few snippets:
My name is Sofia Taran, civilian consultant on board the Republic Escort Cruiser Gonzales. As of approximately two days ago, following an engagement with a group of Corporate warships, we are heavily damaged and adrift. The ship appears barely functional. Power distribution is down. What’s left of life support is failing. I have not been able to get anything but static on my Link. The only functions active are record, read and play. Whatever else, that means the ship’s network is disabled, or worse.
Great, looks like the rats were not able to leave the ship. The usual ship’s vermin is still around – pardon me, the ship’s internal ecosystem I mean. Yeah, I know, where humans are there will and must be various sorts and types of bugs and other creatures. If not to live off dead skin cells we shed, then to deal with critters people unknowingly bring aboard. You’d think warships would be pristine and shining examples of cleanliness? Forget it.
Must have fallen asleep again. Feeling a bit better. I have to find a rythm, can’t risk sliding or end up making mistakes out of being sleep deprived. It really doesn’t matter anymore what time it is, I’ve slept enough for now so the day starts now.
I better make sure that before falling asleep I did not screw anything up. I don’t think I was doing so well.
One more thing for the to do list though, warmth. Something other than bubble wrapping Not just for me, any possibly wounded survivors I find are really going to need some place warm. With the reactor and power distribution nodes down it is only going to get colder. Quickly.
Feel like a hot chocolate. Cream or no cream.
Highly unlikely to be found before I run out of options here. Even if, there is the question of who might find us. We’ve already been attacked, by people we’re at peace with. Yeah, welcome to the Territories. This is where Murphy found refuge after civilisation kicked him out – or so the chef said last week in the officer’s lounge. Don’t ask me where this cultural phenomenon of Murphy and his law comes from, all anybody really knows is that it is ancient, and he’s always been around.
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