This is a perfect example of why NaNoWriMo is so handy. I sat down and started writing yesterday and after about ten minutes, well “Life” happened. (Especially if you want to spell ‘life’ as sh*t). It was so much “life” happening that not only did my writing get abandoned for the day, but I didn’t even get a chance to post it. Usually, that’s not a big deal. “life” happens all the time, but I was a little disappointed with NaNoWriMo on. I had two options: I could post the ten minutes of writing I had finished or I could just skip the day and keep writing, making up for it with a longer post for today. I’m going to post the little I had because it’s NaNoWriMo and because sometimes “Life” happens when you’re writing and you don’t get as much done as you want, but getting anything done. Even a sentence or two is constructive.
Officer’s quarters had honest to God running water showers. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how the Captain justified that, but I also didn’t care. The water was near boiling hot and the timer on the flow was a full and glorious fifteen minutes. The bathroom was the size of a small closet, but had everything I needed, including tooth paste and a toothbrush in sealed plastic. Brushing my teeth felt almost as good as the shower.
The chronometer on the desk displayed ship’s time by the watch shift; three watches in a day, each watch was eight hours. Most spacers still held to a twenty-four hour day. It’s what we were used to, what humans had evolved for and it divided easily into threes. According to the chronometer it was 1:4:35: First watch, Fourth hour, Thirty-five minutes. That made it a little before noon in a normal setting. Hell, it wasn’t even lunchtime.
I blinked at the coldly annoying digital display and shrugged. I had no idea what watch I was supposed to work or where I as supposed to go. The bed was soft, three times as wide as the cot in the brig, and had a blanket. I fell on the mattress and was asleep seconds later.
When I woke, I was still shanghaied on a long-haul ship going who knows where, but I felt a lot better about life in general. There was a remote terminal on the desk in the room. A far nicer version of the one Curtis had left in the cell with me. Nearly all of the security measures had been disabled, giving me full access to the ship.
The ‘Mercy’ was bound for the Gileas system. Gileas was a triple star system hosting more than eleven habitable planets. At least two of the planets had very sizeable and easily accessible mineral deposits. The ‘Mercy’ had helped with the setup of three separate colonies and was on it’s way back with equipment, tools, and new colonists; several of which had probably even volunteered. Once there, the holds would be loaded with the mineral output of several mines purchased for pennies on the pound. It was a guaranteed massive payoff if you were willing to wait fifty or sixty years between paychecks.