A Scripta

This is raw and unedited. This is based on a story that Cold Soldier and I had cooked up about Emerald Flight and my character Rusty Gears and his Emerald Flight. It will probably need some polishing, but here is some of it, or what I can get down during my lunch hour.

Russell Rayna stared for a moment at the readings on the board, glancing back at the engine room. A short, round tub of a man stood off to the side, leaning against a doorframe, grinning from ear to ear, watching Rayna puzzle the problem out.

"Figure it out yet, boy?" he asked, still grinning.

"It has something to do with the vacuum," Rayna said, tapping the board. "Don't tell me. You're going to tell me. I don't want you to tell me."

"Eh, eh, eh," said the man, "What do you think I'm going to tell you?"

"It has nothing to do with the vacuum."

"Ya got that right."

A voice came over the intercom, tinny and ancient. "Engineering."

The man launched himself from the doorframe and looked up at the cieling as he answered, "Yes, cap'n."

"What're you doing, Prax?"

"Givin' Rusty Aisenburgh's Problem."

"Yeah, whatever that is. Listen, I'm going to have to sustain warp drive for four hours. There's an emergency distress call from Bagar Four."

"Let the Fleet handle it," Rusty said quietly.

"I heard that, Rusty. Because we're under the Fleet's protection and we're closest to there, we should at least investigate for them. The Fleet's sending a ship there but it'll take them ten standard hours to get there."

Rusty glanced at Prax and said, "We could find some Ringor metal there."

"Why do you think we're going?" the captain said, his voice carrying a chuckle. "It's not too far out of our way, and if we can exchange some of these damn silkworms, we won't flood the market on Kalor. We'll be the first ship there, and they'll be happy to see us." Thereby, as the Nexus had done on their planet, give them a good deal in appreciation.

"Provided they're not under attack," Prax said.

Rusty looked steadily at Prax, but his mind was elsewhere, searching in his mind's eye for the possibilities that existed, but he couldn't see what was waiting for them at Bagar Four. Only Prax knew of Rusty's ability to see possible futures. Prax had kept quiet, so long as every once in a while Rusty threw him a bone after a poker game or two.

"We're a merchant ship," Prax continued. "We don't have the firepower."

"If there's a battleship there, we'll act stupid and leave," said the captain. "We've done this before, on Pasteur Nine. Prepare engines."

Rusty and Prax moved to different areas of the engine room. Rusty put a transciever in his ear, while Prax did the same and moved to the other side. Prax began, "Warp in five, four, three, two...one."

Rusty held onto a small bar in front of him as the ship lurched slightly forward, slipping into warp drive. He let go of the bar and punched a few buttons on the boards, making sure the warp engines wouldn't slip out of sync. They had four hours of this, which could tax the ancient vessel, depending on what kind of resistance they would run into.

Luckily, Prax and Rusty had kept the engines in good repair so that they could keep up the warp for about six hours at top speed. They reached the Bagar system within three hours.

Prax glanced at the view screen, which was the same view screen that the captain was looking at. "I don't see anything, do you?"

Rusty shook his head. "I can't see anything either way."

"No ships on the dark side of the moon?"

"No ships in the area," he said, glancing at another viewscreen.

"What the hell would they be complaining about?" Prax asked no one in particular.

Again, the tinny voice came over the intercom, "Engineering."

"Yes, cap'n."

"Send Rayna to the shuttle bay. I'm taking a landing party. Nobody's answering."

"Noted," he replied, nodding to Rusty. "Take the rations, just in case."

"On it," Rusty said, as he has already turned his back on him and headed to a small cabinet.