|
Author of 18 Stories |
Aliens: Pandora's Directive
Boarding
As the Norman made its way towards its prize, she couldn't help but breathe in the sight of the large cruise liner that lay adrift in space. Her hazel eyes shifted slightly, noticing some damage scoring along various parts of the ship- mainly around the engine. Obviously it had several breaches in the hull. Only one thought occurred to the woman. Firefight. Someone, most likely pirates, had run into the luxury ship and had engaged in a firefight. In all likelihood, the pirates were killed. It was also the possibility that the pirates boarded the ship and took prisoners, among other things. For some reason, however, the cruiser now lay adrift. Edging the Norman closer towards the vessel, she shifted the yoke and engaged the 'Autopilot' function. Moving out of her seat, Penny Fel walked towards her crew who gathered in the main hold. The Norman was armed with unconventional weaponry similar to the former Weyland-Yutani colonial marine cruisers. In fact, the Norman was a 20-year old de-commissioned colonial marine cruiser. Her crew gathered out towards a long table, where they were entertaining a late dinner.
At 43, her silver lined hair and slightly aged features had not diminished her beauty one bit. This was further proven from attempts local and military men made on her when her and her crew were planetside. Before she sat down, she glanced at her crew. There stood the tall and easily angered Alejandro "Al" Fuentes, the wiry and brilliant engineer/technician Jordan Frances, quiet and mysterious Liz Droma- who happened to be the closest thing to a daughter for Penny, who never took the time to settle down and marry. The loss of Bryan was too fresh in her mind. The last time they were together, he had proposed to her and she accepted. Now he was gone, the last words he echoed still hung in the air. I'm sorry I won't get to wake up beside you again, he had said. As she continued to glance over the group of workers, she couldn't help but smile lightly at the people whom she had spent her time working with. They had chosen to live with her as salvagers, cargo-runners and anything else that happened to come their ways. They were as close to being freelancers as anyone would ever be. The others that were at the table were Geordie "Kit" Sharpe, John Beech, Robert "Bobby Dee" D'Angelo, Gabriel, Lyna Ta, Depa Bhora, Jace and the much older Logan Henessy- the closest thing to a father Penny ever had. She had been nothing but a miscreant until he came along. That man had saved her when she ran into a group of guys who wanted more out of her than she wanted to give. He taught them a lesson and from her gratitude- and through what she thought might have been pity- he let her sign on to the crew. She had proven to be his successor and he was proud of her.
After another moment, it was Al who spoke up first. "So, Cap? What's the verdict?" The tall man had been the one who picked up the drifting ship on sensors and informed her. He of all people was excitably curious. This was to be his eighth salvage mission- and personally, he had hoped to pick up a few souvenirs. "Well," the woman finally said after a few moments, "I think we have a go. No one switched on an emergency beacon, so it seems we're the only ones who have found it-and by that right, it's ours." Ah yes, nothing like the salvagers' code, she couldn't help but think. Finders, Keepers. Her 11 companions were eager to make their way towards the liner, especially after a few months of cruising through known space towards the colonies and other places. No one had any intention of heading off to Earth- at least, not yet. "Since Mother wasn't able to connect with the Rosedale's computer systems, we'll have to do this the hard way. We'll be taking the Hagakure and Jordan will use his ingenuity to get into their docking bay."
"Yes," he said. Gabriel resumed making sure his weapons were reading the bullets and made sure the grenade launchers were in working order- it would be a shame if the gun would jam up in the middle of a firefight. Of course, it wouldn't be very likely that there would be a firefight, especially since the liner was a virtual ghostship. Still, one can never be too careful. After he had looked at the pulse rifles, he moved towards his personal favourite: the Shotgun. His raven-coloured hair split into a widow's peak, long enough to cover his eyes. Opening the jacket, he made sure the gun wasn't jammed and loaded several shells into it, closing it and cocking the gun. "Well, how did you get drummed out?" His companion continued to ask. Gabriel looked at the man again, who only shrugged and raised his eyebrows. "I'm only asking."
She sighed, "well, as long as we're on board, maybe we could find out." The older man nodded, looking out at the crew members running around, completing their errands while Logan and Penny continued their pre-flight prep for the Hagakure. He found it odd that the liner's computer had locked itself out and that their own computer system, Mother, couldn't link with it. Whatever problem it was, it just meant that everyone had to be their guard. He was thankful for Gabriel, the ex-marine who joined the salvage team. He was their newest addition, prior to the loss of Bryan.
Suddenly, there was a beeping sound. He looked at the command console. "We're ready to go," he said. She grunted. "Let's get this over with," she said to the old man, smiling softly.
"No liner looks like this," Al muttered under his breath. The interior docking pad looked austere, but the girders and ramps were more metallic and cold as opposed to fashionable and clear. Of course, the way they entered was through the service docking bay. "We have a job to do, people. Look alive," replied Penny. As the team walked towards the door, the only feeling that surrounded the group was cold, quiet death.
|
Review this Chapter |