Hardwired
one.
Kaja Sorkin easily maneuvered her ship The Culprit through the area between Pharsouk and its second moon Pilarea Si II. She took extra care to not push her engines too hard; not because the ship was damaged but because any excess energy use would reveal to any I.E.C ships that The Culprit was a functioning ship instead of the hunk of space junk it appeared on their radars.
The life of a Junker was as tedious as it was dangerous but it was well worth it once she gutted out anything worth credits. Kaja had spent the majority of her young life aboard ships her father either commandeered or pieced together from the remains of other ships. At first, she was just an errand girl, running from one end of the ship to the other to fetch things for him or one of the crew, then as she grew she came to love the mechanics of a good, strong spacecraft.
She had thrown herself into learning to maintain a large ship from the time she was old enough to turn a wrench and program the computerized mechanisms and by sixteen was able to fix any component that could break on the two-hundred and seventy foot long spacecraft.
“Come on, girl,” Kaja cooed to the ship, stroking the accelerator gently, debating whether or not to push the ship a bit harder in order to get to the ship she had scouted four sun cycles prior. The ship itself had a large hole blasted into the hull, the innards of the ship spilling out into the endless abyss that was space but the good stuff was still inside. She could just see the credits rolling in once she cashed in the weapons system alone, not to mention the rest of the cargo onboard, “Almost there,” she said to herself as she slowly drifted to the darker side of Pilerea Si II and the ship came into view.
The rush of adrenaline was exhilarating as Kaja tried to keep herself from jumping up and down in excitement. The credits from this haul would buy new parts for The Culprit, parts she had been repairing over and over again for the last decade. It would also fund her brief retirement from salvaging, even if only for a Pharsouk year.
Pressing a few buttons in sequence the ship shuddered as it released the catwalk, the bridge extending from the hull to attach itself to the lifeless ship. Once docked, Kaja pressed a few more buttons to still her ship completely before unbuckling her five-point harness and dashing towards the catwalk doors.
Stripping out of her beige coverall, she undressed down to her undergarments before grabbing the spacesuit from the rack closest to the doors; the suit was an investment she had made the moment her father had keeled over and left her The Culprit. Before his passing, they had outdated and heavy suits that made it infinitely hard to lug parts across the catwalk, not to mention they’d lost many crew members over the years because of the finicky oxygen systems. The new space suit was dark as space itself, skin-tight with a zipper in the front that went from crotch to throat and made with a composite that was stretchy and helped minimize the damage done by the handheld blaster the I.E.C frequently used.
Stepping into the jumpsuit, she stepped into it and pulled it around herself before zipping it. She stretched several times, trying to loosen the fabric enough that it was comfortable before grabbing the accompanying helmet. Placing it over her head, she pressed the activation button on the side and it whirred to life, the inside lighting up as the helmet formed around her neck to create a seal. Reaching onto the same shelf she grabbed down the computerized bracer that controlled the more intricate workings of the space suit and slipped it onto her left arm.
Happily, Kaja grabbed her two bags-- one for tools and the other empty for the things she was removing-- in one hand and slammed on the large, red button that opened the doors to the catwalk with the other. The doors opened slowly, the whirring of the motor strained and loud as it worked overtime to open. Kaja made a mental note to herself to check on it once they docked on Veron.
Pressing a few buttons on the bracer, she enabled the boots of the suit to gravitize before walking across the catwalk carefully, as to not jostle the other ship enough to dislodge the catwalk. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck floating endlessly on the dark side of the moon until another Junker came by or worse, the I.E.C.
Entering the hull of the ship, she immediately went to work pulling all the computer components from the main cabin, cutting wires and unscrewing nuts and bolts before placing the pieces into the empty bag she had attached to her side.
It was quick work and it wasn’t long before she was returning to her ship with the bag to empty it and return for more. While quick, it wasn’t easy. Kaja made multiple trips across the catwalk and if not for the time-- synced to Pharsouk’s cycle-- staring her straight in the face, she would have only assumed she had worked a handful of minutes instead of hours.
“This is gonna be great!” Kaja hollered happily as she put the tools back on her bag once she was finished removing the last piece she planned on taking, “I’m gonna be fucking rich!”
Kaja tossed her toolbag without a care once back inside the ship and stripped out of her suit, leaving it in a puddle just inside the cargo hold. Heading back into the cockpit she pulled up the Galactic Communication System and input the twelve digit identifier for her ship, just as she was logging a landing sequence for Veron her ship began to blare a warning alarm.
Cursing, Kaja backed out of the G.C.S and dashed frantically towards her radar, seeing a ship was approaching her flank with great speed, “Damn it!” She yelled as she tapped on a few keys to bring up the approaching ships identifier.
“4SJ81-XNE,” she read aloud, the alpha and numeric system familiar, she was about to input it into the Spaceship Registry when it dawned on her. “Jeraxian whore,” she yelled as she ran to the comm system, patching her ship in with the approaching ship. It took longer than she wanted, the other ship already coming to a stop near her own, more alarms blaring when it tried to dock with her own, “Rickenn! What in the name of Arnuarva’s third moon do you think you're fucking doing? You’re gonna give our positions away!”
“It’s been awhile, Kaja,” Rickenn’s voice replied back from the overhead communication system, “Make this easy and let me dock,”
Kaja knew what Rickenn wanted without him even having to reveal his plan, snatching the earpiece from the dashboard she slipped it into her ear and flipped the switch to automatic communication, “Why the hell should I? The last time I did you and your motley crew of merry men left me stranded outside Triton.” All the while she was making her way back to the cargo hold to shimmy her way back into her suit and helmet, making quick work of the job before heading back to the cockpit.
“If you hadn’t shot me, I wouldn’t have left you,” Rickenn stated matter-of-factly, “Now come on, just let me dock or I’m going to have to punch a hole in your hull.”
Kaja strapped herself back into the captain’s chair, making sure her belt was secure before going to work on the complicated sequence to arm her weapons system. Kaja knew it was no match for Rickenn’s, she’d learned that the hard way on more than one occasion but it didn’t mean she couldn’t use it to escape. “Nah, I don’t think I will,” she teased, “I trust a Trivaxian Gilgamesh more than I trust you to keep your word.”
“Then prepare to be boarded because this is going to be messy,” Rickenn growled before the communication system turned to static.
The life of a Junker was as tedious as it was dangerous but it was well worth it once she gutted out anything worth credits. Kaja had spent the majority of her young life aboard ships her father either commandeered or pieced together from the remains of other ships. At first, she was just an errand girl, running from one end of the ship to the other to fetch things for him or one of the crew, then as she grew she came to love the mechanics of a good, strong spacecraft.
She had thrown herself into learning to maintain a large ship from the time she was old enough to turn a wrench and program the computerized mechanisms and by sixteen was able to fix any component that could break on the two-hundred and seventy foot long spacecraft.
“Come on, girl,” Kaja cooed to the ship, stroking the accelerator gently, debating whether or not to push the ship a bit harder in order to get to the ship she had scouted four sun cycles prior. The ship itself had a large hole blasted into the hull, the innards of the ship spilling out into the endless abyss that was space but the good stuff was still inside. She could just see the credits rolling in once she cashed in the weapons system alone, not to mention the rest of the cargo onboard, “Almost there,” she said to herself as she slowly drifted to the darker side of Pilerea Si II and the ship came into view.
The rush of adrenaline was exhilarating as Kaja tried to keep herself from jumping up and down in excitement. The credits from this haul would buy new parts for The Culprit, parts she had been repairing over and over again for the last decade. It would also fund her brief retirement from salvaging, even if only for a Pharsouk year.
Pressing a few buttons in sequence the ship shuddered as it released the catwalk, the bridge extending from the hull to attach itself to the lifeless ship. Once docked, Kaja pressed a few more buttons to still her ship completely before unbuckling her five-point harness and dashing towards the catwalk doors.
Stripping out of her beige coverall, she undressed down to her undergarments before grabbing the spacesuit from the rack closest to the doors; the suit was an investment she had made the moment her father had keeled over and left her The Culprit. Before his passing, they had outdated and heavy suits that made it infinitely hard to lug parts across the catwalk, not to mention they’d lost many crew members over the years because of the finicky oxygen systems. The new space suit was dark as space itself, skin-tight with a zipper in the front that went from crotch to throat and made with a composite that was stretchy and helped minimize the damage done by the handheld blaster the I.E.C frequently used.
Stepping into the jumpsuit, she stepped into it and pulled it around herself before zipping it. She stretched several times, trying to loosen the fabric enough that it was comfortable before grabbing the accompanying helmet. Placing it over her head, she pressed the activation button on the side and it whirred to life, the inside lighting up as the helmet formed around her neck to create a seal. Reaching onto the same shelf she grabbed down the computerized bracer that controlled the more intricate workings of the space suit and slipped it onto her left arm.
Happily, Kaja grabbed her two bags-- one for tools and the other empty for the things she was removing-- in one hand and slammed on the large, red button that opened the doors to the catwalk with the other. The doors opened slowly, the whirring of the motor strained and loud as it worked overtime to open. Kaja made a mental note to herself to check on it once they docked on Veron.
Pressing a few buttons on the bracer, she enabled the boots of the suit to gravitize before walking across the catwalk carefully, as to not jostle the other ship enough to dislodge the catwalk. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck floating endlessly on the dark side of the moon until another Junker came by or worse, the I.E.C.
Entering the hull of the ship, she immediately went to work pulling all the computer components from the main cabin, cutting wires and unscrewing nuts and bolts before placing the pieces into the empty bag she had attached to her side.
It was quick work and it wasn’t long before she was returning to her ship with the bag to empty it and return for more. While quick, it wasn’t easy. Kaja made multiple trips across the catwalk and if not for the time-- synced to Pharsouk’s cycle-- staring her straight in the face, she would have only assumed she had worked a handful of minutes instead of hours.
“This is gonna be great!” Kaja hollered happily as she put the tools back on her bag once she was finished removing the last piece she planned on taking, “I’m gonna be fucking rich!”
Kaja tossed her toolbag without a care once back inside the ship and stripped out of her suit, leaving it in a puddle just inside the cargo hold. Heading back into the cockpit she pulled up the Galactic Communication System and input the twelve digit identifier for her ship, just as she was logging a landing sequence for Veron her ship began to blare a warning alarm.
Cursing, Kaja backed out of the G.C.S and dashed frantically towards her radar, seeing a ship was approaching her flank with great speed, “Damn it!” She yelled as she tapped on a few keys to bring up the approaching ships identifier.
“4SJ81-XNE,” she read aloud, the alpha and numeric system familiar, she was about to input it into the Spaceship Registry when it dawned on her. “Jeraxian whore,” she yelled as she ran to the comm system, patching her ship in with the approaching ship. It took longer than she wanted, the other ship already coming to a stop near her own, more alarms blaring when it tried to dock with her own, “Rickenn! What in the name of Arnuarva’s third moon do you think you're fucking doing? You’re gonna give our positions away!”
“It’s been awhile, Kaja,” Rickenn’s voice replied back from the overhead communication system, “Make this easy and let me dock,”
Kaja knew what Rickenn wanted without him even having to reveal his plan, snatching the earpiece from the dashboard she slipped it into her ear and flipped the switch to automatic communication, “Why the hell should I? The last time I did you and your motley crew of merry men left me stranded outside Triton.” All the while she was making her way back to the cargo hold to shimmy her way back into her suit and helmet, making quick work of the job before heading back to the cockpit.
“If you hadn’t shot me, I wouldn’t have left you,” Rickenn stated matter-of-factly, “Now come on, just let me dock or I’m going to have to punch a hole in your hull.”
Kaja strapped herself back into the captain’s chair, making sure her belt was secure before going to work on the complicated sequence to arm her weapons system. Kaja knew it was no match for Rickenn’s, she’d learned that the hard way on more than one occasion but it didn’t mean she couldn’t use it to escape. “Nah, I don’t think I will,” she teased, “I trust a Trivaxian Gilgamesh more than I trust you to keep your word.”
“Then prepare to be boarded because this is going to be messy,” Rickenn growled before the communication system turned to static.