SCRAPS

“Hermes series don’t have weapons.”

“Shields?”

“Only the newer models.” 

“Then the Party Pl-wayne’s just a glorified taxi,” Orianna whined.

Chapter 2: Featuring Orianna’s protagonist syndrome (tended to be the one with the most cut lines and thoughts)

 Headlines as far as the eye could see still demonized their parent company, their collapse so terrible it dominated news cycles for months. Even C, a man obsessed with the paranormal, had written a piece on it. As much she and Blake joked about her bad decisions, this was rolling a set of dice.

 

It was times like these, where playing the fool was useful.

 

Her closest friends, C and Blake, could be trusted and would help with her investigation. Captain Wayne was a braggart, but he followed orders diligently and knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Of the other two, Grace Green only cared enough to get paid, though her connection to one of the ISM’s crewmembers was a possible complication. Dr. Pamela Prince was a bit more mysterious, a third-party brought in as humanitarian relief and a long-term replacement for the station’s missing doctor. The two freelancers were kept in the dark, but she figured that as long as they were discreet, neither they, nor the station, would notice. 

The crew quarters of the ISM consisted of a hallway of doors, and as Orianna glanced through the doors Dr. Young opened, the rooms inside were simple and utilitarian. The designers apparently traded style for function, something that their newest encounter, Ben Batiste, was explaining. 

“So yeah, just in case the airlock over there gets compromised or some other part of the station goes *poof* each room has its own ventilation and temperature control. The doors are airtight too, so even if you’re asleep when danger happens the worst thing that’ll happen is that you’ll be stuck inside for a little bit.”

“Everything works even if the power fails,” Baraket added.

“Anyhow, I’mma head up. Gotta go clean the Rec room.”

“Oh, we’re going there next.”

“Nah, it’s pretty bad in there right now, trust me. You folks are better off skipping it for today.”

“Um, alright. Say hi to Leo for me! And remember to stop by the cafeteria later!”

“Gotcha. Will do.”

Batiste gave them a salute and went on his way. 

“Got something to say?” The new voice must have startled Cyril, the man whirling back around to face the now open doorway, a very unimpressed Percy Park standing in the entrance. As gruff and curt as his voice was, it was surprisingly softer than normal. Too bad the rest of him was intimidating as always, dressed in that same old Speca jacket, appraising the crowd in front of him with a glare and grimace.

“Wh-Woah there, I was just looking. No harm in that.” Despite the officer being a good deal shorter than him, Cyril stepped back and put his hands up. His voice also broke oddly, dropping his thick accent for the briefest of moments.

“Hmm.” Percy actually eyed the guy up and down before staring right at the man’s face, eyes even squinting a little. Was he searching for something?

When he finally turned away, Yvaine could see Cyril sag with relief. Not very tough for a bodyguard. “A tour?”

“Yeah- you can join us if you’d like-”

“Pass.” Eh, she tried.

“But you’ll come for dinner later, right?” She did her very best to hint at the promise of good food.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then, 

“Yeah. Now shoo.” 

“Don’t you want to meet everyone?” Orianna suddenly asked, butting in from between Pamela and Grace.

“Later.“ The officer waved a hand at them before he turned back to the monitors inside,  the door sliding close with an audible thump. The businesswoman gave a little huff of annoyance.

“Rude.”

March 9th, 2163 11:20 AM

“I don’t know guys, shouldn’t we stick to facts?” Facing Leone was the Pioneer head and her enforcer, the two of them having apparently gone out of their way to find him.

“Just want your statement, that’s all,” Bower replied.

“Well I, 

 

“I already told you, I just heard it at the party.” Leone resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Orwell and her enforcer continued to corner him in the hallway. 

“But who told you that?” Apparently knowing the Captain guy lost an arm from a traffic accident was grounds for prosecution.

“It’s just something that got tossed around during the icebreakers. Heard lots of crazy stuff you know.” 

“Uh huh. But did you know who could’ve said it?” He almost laughed. If these people were actually trying to solve the murder, then they were doing a terrible job of it.

“Does anyone need medical assistance?” 

“The Captain will if he doesn’t let the goddamn autopilot do the flying.”

“Is… is it over?” 

There was a moment before Batiste’s voice filtered through the close-range radio, “I, I think so. Are you okay, Mr. Collins?” Cyril’s ears were still ringing from the absolutely roaring torrent of ejected air, not to mention the bruises that were probably already forming on his back. Had the door closed just a little later… no, now wasn’t the time to think about that. 

“No, not at-” the bruises positively stung when he moved, “-at all. But I’ll be… fine. What… what happened?”

“Well it cant have been us, we were all together the whole time!” She realized her mistake the moment she said it. They hadn’t.

“Whose side are you even on!?”

“I don’t care about whatever desert island game you’re all playing. A murderer is among us. I want honest answers, from everyone.” His sheer brusqueness quieted the crowd for a moment, at least until a new person from the back stepped into the ring.

“Then speak for yourself.” It was Leone, placing a reassuring hand on Ramirez as he stepped in front of the comms officer.

Before she could reply Collins stepped in front of her, the two having a tense exchange of glances before he shook his head. 

“I understand,” he states, “It’ll be a tight fit but we should leave together.”

“But-”

“Ori, please. I know: if Wayne’s dead then whoever did this isn't keen on us leaving. But we don’t know why, yet. Who knows what’ll happen if we just cut and run? At the very least, I don’t think they’re the suicidal type.”

“Then we’re all in this together. Let’s get through this with the power of friendship!” Dr. Young’s attempt at reassurance led much to be desired. But it did lighten the atmosphere somewhat, shoulders and faces around relaxing slowly.

But apparently that was too much to ask for. While the ship spun and lurched the CEO of Pioneer Industries leaned back in her chair, completely unfazed.

“Are you sure we couldn’t have just taken the Athena?” Cyril asked, defeated. “The Captain’s flying is… impressive but-”

“He’s cheap! And I like him!” she replied. He wondered if she even noticed that she was calling the captain’s premium wage and the billion-dollar ship they were cruising in ‘cheap.’

It had always bothered him. Why did the cake only have 12 pieces? A careless mistake perhaps, forgotten under the weight of panic and chaos. Maybe it was because it was harder to cut evenly. But that cake had been baked, and cut that very day.

 

Perhaps, he was just paranoid.

“Yeah, safety in numbers.”

“Hey, who’s driving now?”

“Trust in the AI.”

“Yeah, robot supremacy.” And so on.

But the idle banter was soon stopped by one final announcement.

“Well then,” Collins started, “If we’re all going then we’ll need to pack as much as we can back onto the Hermes. There ain’t much space so only take what you need. We leave in two hours.” He saw a few nods here and there, others already turning away.

March 7th, 2163 5:35 PM

Bella wondered if tagging along with the tour group instead of working had been a good idea. She’d done so at their request, but she couldn’t help but feel that it would come back to bite her later.

“So then next is Sanitation and the Crew Quarters?” Ms. Orwell asked. Dr. Young nodded in response.

“Yeah, after that we’ll stop by the Rec room and then finally reconvene at the-”

“Yo, I gotta take a piss. Go on without me.” Dr. Young faltered to a stop, the burly security officer’s statement an unexpected interruption.

“Um. Okay?”

“Aight.” She watched as they power-walked away, vanishing from view as they turned the corner.

“Should, should we come back for them?” the doctor asked, a bit unsure about the whole situation.

“Nah. Blake’ll just meet us back at the cafeteria. Anyways, where to next?”