a lesson
I was helping Em repair a console when Caban gave me coordinates for our next contact. I left the Sneak to her humming, wirecaps in her teeth. Since ceasing her constant chemming, she hums more often, in snatches of songs that sound far more classic than the advert tunes I would expect.
"Do you know how to fly?" I asked, knowing that she did. Newer ships than ours make it easy for anyone, and she has been out here awhile, presumabley not in a crate the entire time.
"Suppose so."
"Do you know how to navigate?"
"Suppose so."
"Ever flown a jump?"
"Nope."
"Want to?"
She popped up from the tangled guts of the console and came over, her eyes steady on the screen I was pointing to.
"There is the nearest Jumpspot. Both ends are monitored and metered, so you're safe knowing you won't hit anything on either end. Its faster, though, if we take one here."
"No spot there."
"There is if we make one. See, it will take us...here, and no Feds."
I showed her how to engage in and out of a Jump, and how to flash the scanners a second before arrival to make sure you don't hit a ship, an asteroid, or a planet. Space is full of moving objects, but the majority is easy to slide through unimpeded.
"The ship does most of the work, but not all of it. You are still the one steering. If something appears on the flash scan, wait one second before going through. But you never ever pull out once you've started going through. Its better to hit something than to have your ship sheared in half. We'd be floating in the dark before we knew we were dead."
She shuddered. I didn't tell her that I had done it before. Ice could show her the old track maps I know she has if Em gets curious. I didn't tell her about rifting, or firing in a missile first to clear the way, or backing out so it seems like you appeared where you hadn't, or how sometimes I didn't flash the scan because I didn't have to, because I already knew.
When it came time to jump, she did it well, especially with her chemmed-over reflexes. Young Navvers are always faster than practiced veterans, but they never get as far, and they die with far greater frequency. The thrill of a clean drop into nowhere is one of the finest in the Verse. When it was over and our ship hadn't torn apart at the bolts, Em looked up at me, and I could not tell if she spoke with incredulity, disdain, or simple curiousity.
"You get paid for that?"
"Do you know how to fly?" I asked, knowing that she did. Newer ships than ours make it easy for anyone, and she has been out here awhile, presumabley not in a crate the entire time.
"Suppose so."
"Do you know how to navigate?"
"Suppose so."
"Ever flown a jump?"
"Nope."
"Want to?"
She popped up from the tangled guts of the console and came over, her eyes steady on the screen I was pointing to.
"There is the nearest Jumpspot. Both ends are monitored and metered, so you're safe knowing you won't hit anything on either end. Its faster, though, if we take one here."
"No spot there."
"There is if we make one. See, it will take us...here, and no Feds."
I showed her how to engage in and out of a Jump, and how to flash the scanners a second before arrival to make sure you don't hit a ship, an asteroid, or a planet. Space is full of moving objects, but the majority is easy to slide through unimpeded.
"The ship does most of the work, but not all of it. You are still the one steering. If something appears on the flash scan, wait one second before going through. But you never ever pull out once you've started going through. Its better to hit something than to have your ship sheared in half. We'd be floating in the dark before we knew we were dead."
She shuddered. I didn't tell her that I had done it before. Ice could show her the old track maps I know she has if Em gets curious. I didn't tell her about rifting, or firing in a missile first to clear the way, or backing out so it seems like you appeared where you hadn't, or how sometimes I didn't flash the scan because I didn't have to, because I already knew.
When it came time to jump, she did it well, especially with her chemmed-over reflexes. Young Navvers are always faster than practiced veterans, but they never get as far, and they die with far greater frequency. The thrill of a clean drop into nowhere is one of the finest in the Verse. When it was over and our ship hadn't torn apart at the bolts, Em looked up at me, and I could not tell if she spoke with incredulity, disdain, or simple curiousity.
"You get paid for that?"
posted by Scout | 8:24 PM
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