Today's Reading
CHAPTER ONE
So.
I'm not in an ideal situation right now.
I've got ten percent of air left in this portable tank. Ship's been decompressed, which...not great. Have to rely on the tank. Okay. Okay. I've got maybe an hour of air left.
But I also know for a fact that there's another ship here. It's the competition, sure, but my radar shows they're in range, and surely a fellow scavenge ship wouldn't be so ruthless to ignore a distress call?
"Come on, come on," I mutter, staring at the slowly blinking communication light. I sent out the signal back when I still had half a day of air left. This nearby ship, I can tell on the radar, it's big, so there's got to be a whole operation going on, crew and everything. It's not a little rig like what I have. So, even if I'm the competition to them, I wouldn't be much of one.
Plus, my ship has a hole on one side. A big one. The air gauge ticks down to nine percent.
The comm light blinks.
Eight.
Blink. Blink.
Seven.
"You have got to answer this comm signal!" I scream at it, deeply aware that takes extra air. I'd like to punch something, but gravity's out on the ship too, which means if I hit the console, I'd just fly backward in the opposite direction. Ricocheting around my own ship doesn't seem like a good use of my limited time.
Blink. Blink.
The other ship is not that far away. It's been well within range for the past hour. What are they all doing, just laughing at a distress signal and rubbing their hands with the knowledge that my ship, though damaged, is another one to loot?
They're not going to let me die, right?
...Right?
Blink.
And then—
"Hello?" It's staticky and dim, but it's an answer.
"Hello, yes?" I say. The ship's signal's already routed to my earpiece. "Took you long enough to answer!"
"You're not authorized to be in this sector," a different voice says, one that rings with authority and contempt.
"Neither are you!" I take a deep breath, then silently curse as the gauge ticks down another percent. "If you're going to get nitpicky about laws, you ignored a live distress signal for hours." I can hear them start to answer, but I plow on. "And now I'm down to six percent in my air tank."
"What?" The first voice again, sounding a little confused. Male, I think. "This is a real distress call?"
"It is for the next thirty minutes or so, because after that, it'll just be body removal," I snap. "My ship had a breach. I'm in a suit, breathing what's left of the only tank I've got."
"What are you even doing out here?"
"Can I answer that when I have more than half an hour left to breathe?" I say, eyes wide at the shock of how dim this other crew is.
"We've got a lock on your signal. You really only got half an hour?" "Mm-hm." I'm too tense to put it into words, but I try to get the full gravity of the situation in that grunt.
"We'll be cutting it close."
Great. Great.
"I'll try to hold my breath, then," I say. Because what the fuck else can I say? I can't exactly refill an oxygen tank in a breached ship.
...
