The Silent Room

“Hand me that screwdriver, Tuck.” A hand, almost completely covered in black grease, reached up and passed me the tool, followed by a tired sigh.

“This should wrap up today’s run eh, Chief?” said Bob as he began to leave the condenser room with his toolbox. “Hey, don’t forget to reserve us a ride, will ya?” called out an exhausted Tuck. I tightened the last screw and pushed myself away from the huge protocondenser. Working in zero-gravity practically allows us mechanics to move and work with more freedom than a gravity-bound environment.

Condenser Core Block, done. Have to stress test the Protoplasma Injectors tomorrow, the pulse-control unit came from a different maker this time, I wonder how it holds, I quietly thought to myself as I ticked one item off my mental checklist.

“I really need a PDA, Tuck.”

“Can’t ya ask for a raise? Tell ‘em ya need one.”

“They’d give me a pen and stack of Post-Its. Cheap fucks that they are. That’s what Nakata got when he asked for a raise to get himself a laptop. Poor guy.”

“But does Nakata really *need* a laptop? I mean, he’s already got his own workstation unit.”

“Yeah, I know. I got him some parts for it a while back. The piece of junk is already like, what, 3 years old?”

“Haha.”

“And suddenly my tongue itches for some shrimp in cream sauce,”

“Oooh, that means…”

“Let’s have Italian today, Tuck.”

“Then to Pablo’s it is. I’ll let Bob know, he should have an EVAM and the suits ready for us,” said Tuck as he began tapping his text-message.

“Sweet.”

*[EVAM - Extra-Vehicular Activity Module]

Bob is great. Somehow he always manages to finish his work before any of us, and he always keeps one of the EVAMs in the hangar reserved for our lunch break. “Hey, Chief. Heard we’re heading to Pablo’s today. Dying for shrimp or what?” came in Bob through the radio as I latched the spacesuit’s lifeline onto the EVAM.

“Just shut up and drive, Bob.”

“Heheh, guess I was right. Aye-aye, Cap’n!”

This place is officially known as the Perseus Inter-Planetary Warpgate Station, but for us who actually live and work here, we just call it Perseus. Pablo, a well-known chef here at Perseus, runs a small deli at the public block not too far away from where I work. His divine hand-made pasta is a delicacy for us space-workers. The public block, unlike the engineering block, has centrifugal gravity, so you can actually do some proper cooking there. To be honest, there isn’t much variety when it comes to the food offered at the eateries on Perseus.

Sure, there’s a much nearer cafeteria at the Engineering block, but after a while, anyone would get sick of sandwiches or tortilla rolls for lunch. The food wasn’t made there, just delivered from elsewhere, probably other relay stations.

“Hey, Chief?”

“‘sup, Bob?”

“I called Pablo to reserve some seats for us. He said he’s closed for today.”

Damnit, I just remembered. He’s got a dental appointment for his swelling gums. Stupid, stupid. I really need a PDA.

“Sigh, alright. I guess it’s back to Perseus Cafe, boys. Might as well get us a family-size Caesar Salad, and – hey Tuck, you still got some of that pastrami?”

“Yea, I think. About half a roll, left. Have to check when I get back.”

“Well, bring it over. I’ll buy you a new roll the next time Pablo comes back.”

“No probs, Chief. No probs at all.”

I could see Tuck already salivating at the thought of a fresh Pastrami roll. That guy’s crazy about ‘em.

“We’re on the course back to Perseus. I must say, anything is better than the dry muesli bars that Chief fed us the other day, eh Bob? Heheh.”

“Shut up, Bob.”

Suddenly, one of the alarms on the EVAM went off. That’s odd.

“Bob, status?”

“The protoplasma meter just read in some crazy spikes. There, I relayed it to your HUD.”

Shit, shit! I knew I had to check on the Injectors, these readings aren’t just sudden power surges! Okay, think, think….protoplasma fluctations, wave irregularity, condenser state stable…oh yeah!

“Tuck, any news from the hangar boys?”

“I’ll ask.”

“Bob, go full throttle. Head to the Ion Drive sector, we’re checking the Injection Systems. Tuck, tell the hangar boys to get our gears up and running!”

“Roger that, Chief!” came the answer in unison.

“We’re skipping lunch today, boys,” I whispered to myself in regret.

Something is really tugging at me today. Perseus is one of the many warpgate stations working in a vast network of some 30 other warpgate stations orbiting Earth, Mars and their moons. Perseus, despite being one of the oldest, operates one of the most stable of all the Warpgates in the entire network. For a problem of this magnitude to occur, this is giving me some serious worries.

“T-minus 2 minutes to docking at the Ion Drive hangar bay. Better start stacking up on the oxygen.”

“Copy that, Bob. How’s our gear, Tuck?”

“The hangar boys have it on standby, Chief. We’re good to go as soon as we touch.”

“Very good. Okay boys, listen up. Protoplasmic activity is at an all-time high, assume warp-particle leakage and work with emergency procedures. Above all else, your own personal safety comes first. Perseus can be rebuilt, but no one in the whole universe can replace my precious team members. Are we clear?”

“Five seconds to docking. Four. Three…”

This might get nasty.

“…Two. One. Your orders?”

“Go! Go! Go!”