This is a pure first draft sample -- written in one day, Sept 22. After this chapter was finished, I'd go back and enhance the dialog, descriptions and characters. This was written just to get the action in the scene down -- or a starting point anyway.
Mere
Island
Chapter
01
01
'Yikes!'
Hot. That spot is glowing. Wrong. Lift, Ryele. I turned and leaped
for the handrail of the catwalk ladder alongside the roaring main
engine of the Aphar Hawk, an 18 box tramp/planet trader out of
Bilwain, Alantzia system.
I
think that line of observation and action may have been one of my
finest half seconds of my life, even if I live another 200 years,
which seemed rather iffy in that half second.
Though
we were decelerating at .5 gees, I reached the ladder and pulled
myself up to the catwalk at the top of the engine, only occasionally
touching a step, hitting the emergency engine shutdown button within
three seconds of discovering the hot plasma recycling tube and
continued on up towards the main engine room access hatch.
The
roar of the engines and fuel pumps ceased abruptly, as did the
pseudo-gravity with the shutdown of the main and balancing engines.
The silence lasted a second before the wailing of the alarms began.
Without the pseudo-gravity, I shot upwards, not stopping at the
engine room control platform, but aiming for the main hatch, whose
blast door was grinding close. The Aphar Hawk was an old ship, and
had never been a first class one. Even new it would've been lucky to
get Guild certification, all of which I was thankful for, since a the
blast doors of a first class, Guild certified, ship would've snapped
close, trapping me in the engine room, where, even with the engine
shut down, there was probably still enough pressure in the plasma
recycling tubes to send a stream of super-hot plasma shooting out
into the engine room once it melted the Designed-matter steel outer
casing. You don't want to be in an engine room with super-hot plasma
shooting about, not with all the fuel lines, electric lines, and
micro reactors.
As
it was, I just managed to get my hands and half my head in the
narrowing gap between the blast door and the edge of the hatch –
hoping that its sensors were working.
They
were. It stopped and buzzed angrily at me. I pulled myself through
the narrow gap, paused just long enough to make sure it closed, and
then started up the long central access passage – a tube running
the length of the cargo hold – some 80 meters, with a steep
spiraling staircase circling an open core. The staircase was for when
we were accelerating or decelerating, the hollow core for free fall.
I shot up the shaft, occasionally grabbing the railing of the
staircase to keep me on course. The alarm siren still screaming down
the long shaft.
I
had the engine room watch. It should've been the chief's, but he said
he was too “sick” to stand it. He and the Cap'n had been drinking
throughout their off watch. I had been making my rounds, idly running
by hand along the rows of plasma recycling tubes when I my hand
touched one that was hot. Plasma recycling tubes shouldn't be hot.
The designed-matter radshield lining of the tube should have kept the
outer layer of designed matter steel cool to the touch. The fact that
the tube was hot said that a spot on the inner radshield lining had
been corroded away and that the super-hot plasma that was being
recycled was in the process of melting the outer designed-matter
steel casing. And, as I mentioned already, once free and shooting
about the engine room that plasma stream would wreck havoc,
potentially destroying the ship, and certainly the engine room. A
hazard of the trade, especially on ships like the Apher Hawk.
But
the moment that tube began to heat up its sensors should have noted
it and automatically shut down the engine. Even an old and second
class ship like the Apher Hawk had that type of fail safe system. But
it hadn't.
In
addition to being the Apher Hawk's second engineer, I was her systems
tech as well, and I looked after her systems diligently. When you
sail aboard ships like the Apher Hawk, you can't be careless, if you
have any intention of reaching your next planet of call.
If
you have any attention of reaching your planet of call… I had just
reached the boat deck when I latched on to that thought.
I
found the cap'n and chief at the access hatch for the ship's gig,
cycling it open. They turned to stare at me as I appeared from the
access shaft. They looked scared. And they looked even more scared
when they saw me.
I
hesitated for a second – my mind racing with all the implications
and all the things I wanted to ask – and say. Too many. Time enough
later, I decided and continued on up the shaft, three decks to the
bridge without saying a word to them.
Using
the handrail I swung around and planting my magnetic boots on the
deck, raced over to the engine control station, it's screens lit with
red flashing lights.
'What
in the blazes are you up to Reyle?' yelled Crista over the scream of
the warning sirens.
'Hot
spot on a plasma recycling tube,' I replied as I began to
systematically shut down the engine, pumps and auxiliary machinery.
And as the siren died, I added, 'The tube sensor failed. Found it
just by chance.'
'Sensor
failure?'
'Sensor
and tube liner failure – how unlikely is that?' I muttered as I
called up the tube sensors to the screen. Turning to her next to me,
I added, 'Too unlikely. All the tube sensors are online and showing
green.'
'The
Neb?'
I
added in a low voice, 'And coming up, I found the Cap'n and the Chief
cycling open the boat access lock. For being too drunk to stand their
watch, they lifted mighty fast – to abandon ship.'
'The
bastards!'
'Bastards
for sure…' And likely would-be-murders as well. If I hadn't caught
that hot spot when I did, I'd likely be dead by now – or minutes
away from being dead.
The
Captain and Chief appeared from the access shaft.
'What's
going on?' roared the Captain.
As
if he didn't know.
I
was still thinking fast, and I realized that there was nothing to be
gained by making a scene now. We were still four days from Cavishtar,
and the Apher Hawk hadn't been they type of ship where I felt the
need to carry a darter in my pocket, and not knowing how desperate
the Cap'n and Chief were, I felt it best to play innocent. I probably
wouldn't fool them, but it might cast enough ambiguity over the whole
incident that they'd not panic. At least not until I dug my darter
out of my kit.
'Hot
spot on one of the plasma recycling tubes. Found it just by lock. The
sensor shows it's just fine,' I said.
'If
the sensor shows it's fine, how do you know it's hot?' demanded the
Chief.
'I
felt it making my rounds. The tube was hot and I saw a bright spot on
the tube. I shut the engine down manually and got clear of the engine
room a quick as I could.'
'If
the sensor shows green, it was probably your Neb-blasted
imagination.'
'Well,
if you're up to it Chief, it's your watch and you can go down and
have a look yourself. The plasma pressure has probably dropped enough
to just sputter out a few hot plasma balls should it finish melting
the steel tube,' I replied, and turning to the console, I called up a
visual of the engine room. 'It looks safe enough at the moment.'
'It's
your watch, Ryele.'
'Then
I'm staying right here, Chief. I'm giving it a watch or so to allow
it to cool down enough to have a look.'
The
heads and shoulders of Forque, Milstung and Song, the rest of the
crew had appeared in the access shaft and were watching the
proceedings from from deck level.
'You're
relieved, Ryele. You too, Christa. We have the watch now,' said the
Cap'n, and spinning around, added, 'And get below the rest of you.
Everything is under control.'
I
gave him a sketchy salute and stepped around him for the access
shaft, hastily being abandoned by the rest of the crew and headed for
my cabin. I stopped before the doorway and turned to Christa who was
following me down. 'It might be wise to carry a darter for the rest
of the voyage, and be careful abound those two.'
She
gave me a look. 'You think they were selling the ship to the
insurance company?'
'Can't
prove it. You wouldn't think so. I didn't think the Apher Company was
that type of outfit, shipmate Crista. I try to avoid those types of
companies. However, the sensor has obviously been sabotaged, and
likely the plasma tube as well. It's too great of a coincidence that
both should fail. We'll know more when I can have a look at the
sensor and the tube.'
Christa
nodded. '
The story would have been set in the Nine Star Nebula on a planet in the Alantzia system. It starts with the ship being scuttled to collect the insurance money on the ship and cargo. On reaching orbit, the ship's captain and chief engineer go downside, where they'd get their memories of the entire episode erased in order to try to foil any Patrol investigation. The narrator, Reyle would also have his memory erased, whether or not he wanted it, should they catch up with him. He files a report with the Patrol, but doesn't stick around -- going to ground on a distant resort island, Mere Island, under a new identity, where he takes a job as an appliance repairman for the summer season after deciding that it would be unhealthy for him to make himself available to either the Patrol or the criminal organization behind the attempted insurance fraud (and likely murder).
All this preliminary danger was just a set up to get him to Mere Island with some vague threats in the background. The story itself would have been my version of a Joseph Lincoln Cape Cod story, a lighthearted, humorous story with a bunch of local characters. I also wanted to get a bit of the Hardy Boys in it as well, with a mystery revolving around an overgrown house of a certain Captain XX...
The problem was that while I could think of characters, scenes, and some preliminary incidents, I couldn't get all that much of an ongoing plot -- the sad story of all these attempts -- though I had put a few weeks of thinking about it off and on before starting on it.
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