Raw vacuum pulled and twisted everything that wasn’t latched, bolted, or welded down in the docking bay as the Glorious Anger lifted into launch position. My grip tightened around the slightly rusty pipe, thank Gaia for that. Anything smoother wouldn’t have given me the anchor I needed to keep from being sucked into the big empty beyond the hanger doors. I gave a quick thank you for ineffective maintenance drones.
It had been getting colder as the pressure in the hanger subsided while air was being sucked into space. It had been at least until a moment ago. Now, now it was extremely warm as the Anger’s engine exhaust washed over me. Any more time spent like this and the vacuum wouldn’t kill me before the radiation I was being exposed to did. I had to get aboard, and it had to be now.
Releasing the pipe, my body jerked forward as I fought to keep control against the vacuum’s suction. The Glorious Anger was powering up and in less than a minute it would be in dead air. So would I if I wasn’t inside. I started to slide against the ship’s hull to slow me down, when a latch struck my left arm. My arm flailed for it and took hold, but that hand couldn’t get the grip. I managed to pull my right hand and could feel the grip hydraulics screaming against the strain. Space still wanted me, and I really preferred a more open relationship.
The airlock attached to the latch wouldn’t open by a mere twist. The ship’s crew were wise on local pirating habits to allow such a simple entrance. Go figure that slavers would know pirate habits. My free hand slipped up to my forehead and peeled back my data port. Pulling the cord as far it would extend, I started feeling around for the likely plug. This hole? Nope. That one? Not a port. Oh oops, this one is a camera. Crap. Ah here we go.
The world tore away. My senses died as the interface took over. Infinite reality took over as I dove into the ship’s brain. Polygon architecture shot by in waves with no verification needed. I wanted to get inside and the system was leading me right to the command. Past locked grids and log in stations, past the link from the ship to the port, my mind raced like a comet across the sky. A simple control, simple activation; something blipped. I flipped a mental switch.
The airlock peeled back and I slipped inside. I slammed the standard emergency close valve and the doors closed behind me. I was aboard. I was ready to save the day. I really need to take a nap.
This was the point I passed out by the way. Funny that lack of oxygen will do that to a guy.
Hanger Bay Echo One Nine Eight Three by Justin Diehl is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.