Screw Pile Developments

HSS Chasetail: 03:21 Seb and Raven’s Quarters

Despite feeling tired and wanting to sleep, Seb lay wide awake in his bunk.

The sim. There must be something that he is still missing…

Again and again he replayed the sim over and over in his mind. A continuous loop of set and reset.

I coulda… I shoulda… I woulda…

Later: 04:03

Rapid gunfire — bouncing around the tiled walls — a terrifying cacophony of sound.

Red — dead.

What if I’d…

I coulda… I shoulda… I woulda…

Finally, Seb managed to drift off into a fitful sleep, one mixed up with images of Red lying dead, rapid shots firing, shots missing, hostile targets fleeing and the Sen-Comms fragmenting into a myriad of pieces.

Much later: 07:32

Seb woke to the sound of the room door sliding shut. It was Raven returning from the ablutions.

It was a scheduled day off for Greenwatch. Seb was grateful; he was not sure that he could face flying again today. He made his own way out and down the corridor to the ablution block at the end. He attended to the usual tasks, operating on automatic pilot, rather than consciously thinking about going to the toilet and showering. Returning, he managed to find some clean clothes from his drawer; underwear, chinos, t-shirt and vest. Breakfast in the canteen. If asked later what he had eaten, he wouldn’t have been able to say.

His mind was still full from the night’s wakefulness.

Not having anything in particular in mind to do, he wandered the ship with little purpose. Eventually he found himself on the catwalk high above the flight deck. It was already a hive of organised activity, the operations of the new day well underway. The flying crews were already checking over their craft and preparing for their assigned missions. The Marauder probes were still posing an ongoing threat.

How long Seb stood there just watching the activity below, thinking but not thinking, he didn’t know.

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Earlier: 07:45 Lewis and Hans’ Quarters

Lewis rolled over instinctively, keeping Dogger close.

Two lanky, furry grey legs with paws attached appeared over the side of the bunk from above. They were almost long enough to touch the floor, but not quite. A soft landing on the floor below and the sound of the door sliding open and shut. Lewis stirred again in his sleep, that place between fully awake and fully asleep where the subconscious can play its tricks.

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Lewis opened his eyes. Biological pressures were telling him that he would need to make the same sleepy trip down the corridor as Hans. Lewis passed Hans on the way down as Hans was coming back.

Breakfast was indeed waffles, with bacon and maple syrup. Hans was rarely wrong on matters of canteen culinary cuisine.

After breakfast Lewis headed back to his quarters and tidied up his bed. He was about to place Dogger in his usual spot by the pillow when he had a thought. It was not a fully formed thought; it was more of a feeling. The same one he got when something was about to happen and he was just one step ahead of the sensors. In this moment, it was a ‘hmm’ kind of thought.

About what?

He had no idea, but instead of putting Dogger by the pillow, he picked him up and tucked him under his arm. Was he self-conscious, a 17-year-old officer openly carrying a stuffed toy dog under his arm on a Hundeerde Capital Cruiser?

Not in the slightest.

Word of the incident in the control room had travelled highly efficiently via the shipwide bush telegraph. Dogger was Hux Approved, and that was that.

With no real reason why, Lewis made his way towards the flight deck. He started up the stairs that led to the catwalk as it afforded a great view of all the craft leaving and returning through the portal curtains. The semi-transparent blue barrier that kept the deadly vacuum of space from sucking out the life-preserving atmosphere within.

He saw Seb standing, leaning on the rail, watching the hive of activity below.

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Lewis didn’t speak immediately. For a few moments he too just watched and took in the activity below.

Lewis and Seb continued to watch the flight deck below.

A deck crew Hunde connected a plasma injection hose to one of the Greywatch fighters. The distinctive slightly sweet, syrupy smell of the fuel drifted upwards.

The deck crew Hunde disconnected the fuel hose and moved to the next fighter.

A shuttle departed out through the portal.

Seb couldn’t help but let out a smile.

They watched Greywatch depart one by one through the portal.

Seb turned his head for just a moment and looked at Lewis. Lewis was still watching the deck below.

There was an awkward moment or two of silence. Seb searched his memory, back seven years to the basement.

A hurried, murmured buzz — elbowing and poking — a small boy with oversized glasses scurried forward to deal with the bucket.

One of the deck crew gave a loud whistle. The wing tip of a docking fighter from Blackwatch had almost knocked over another of the deck crew. The flight deck was not a place to be unless you had reason to be there. Inattention could be lethal.

Lewis handed Dogger to Seb.

Seb accepted and squished Dogger tight.