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| "The Commute" | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 10 2011, 01:22 AM (90 Views) | |
| Gamma Centauri | May 10 2011, 01:22 AM Post #1 |
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Ensign
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After leaving breakfast full and mostly satisfied, Mark made his way rather quickly down the corridor towards the air lock. He still didn't understand why they had to keep these things powered up. Its not like they'd all die from a little exposure to fresh air. Why not just open them and re-route the power elsewhere? Still, he waited patiently while the two atmospheres equalized and strapped on a respirator. Although not entirely necessary for him, many of the colonists found the external atmosphere a bit on the light side and prefered not to return to their bunks light headed. For him, well, it was more like a brisk walk through the Ural Mountains on Earth. Nevertheless, a crack of sunlight slowly pierced the metal door as it opened; folding out and then in. Mark smiled beneath his mask, enjoying the warmth of the sun as he tentatively exited the air lock. He glanced down, making sure he cleared the large drop to the panels below without tripping. The one problem with modular construction is that it was inflexible. Yes, one could move around the buildings into any arrangement they liked, but when it came to the little quirks in terrain and topography, you were out of luck. Irony had it that while the rest of the habitation and mess module resided on near-level terrain, this one airlock... the only airlock mind you, had to come to rest above the only crater on the plateau. Mark contemplated taking it upon himself to fabricate a set of improvised stairs, but the thought quickly passed. Still, what the colonists had done here in only a month was nothing less than astounding. While construction was still obvious, there was at least a semblance of habitability and civilization here. Concrete paths led to a central pavillion, where a sort of semi-frozen water-like substance bubbled up through a slight geyser. Only a few, including Mark, knew that the liquid was recycled coolant for the power generators. The fountain played a key role in reoxidizing the mixture. Mark continued down the path, bouncing slightly with each step. Even if it was Earth-like, the planet was no where near a clone. Gravity was only slightly less than that of Earth, but it was a perpetual reminder how alien the planet truly was. The modules fortunately contained a type of magnetic plating that simulated gravity, but outside many even the heaviest of machinery levitated a few inches off the ground. If only someone had brought sporting equipment. It would have made for one hell of a football game. On the far end, parallel to the mess and habitation module was a more multipurpose facility. Here, many of the on-site work installations could be found, as well as quieter areas for more intellectual pursuits. Mark smiled again as he approached, appearing to skip as he reached up and activated the air lock controls. He stepped in side, and as the air rushed around him, he removed his respirator and put it into a sanitation compartment. The interior door opened with a hiss, blasting Mark with a slight gust of air. He glanced down again, making sure he cleared the bulkhead. He took a mental note to find someone to sand them down. No one liked them. They were a nuisance and an accident waiting to happen. Mark cleared his head as he looked up and into a long hall. The module was divided down the middle in to to sections by a retaining wall. On one side was the "factory," were most of the colony's workforce maintained a rather subdued presence manning production consoles or chain lines. It was a monotonous job to say the least, and probably one of the least attractive, but it served a vital purpose. The colony, as of now, was entirely alone. If something broke, they couldn't just call the Orbiter to send it down. They'd have to make it, and make it right... or the colony could be put to risk. On the opposite side, the various research operations were housed. Unlike the "factory," only a select few of the colonists found themselves employed within the tight confines of a laboratory. Whomever had chosen the original bunch had taken great pain to select not only raw laborers, but people who were more professional and highly specialized in a given field. Why they had chosen him however, Mark didn't know. He quickly paced down the hall and turned to the right, stopping in front of a door just long enough to tap a panel button. The door slid open with fluidity, revealing a slightly darkened interio lacking any light except for a few mood lamps. In the center was a couch... or at least Mark assumed it was a couch, centered around a table and several chairs. He walked in, taking pains to avoid the bulkhead once again, and sat down in one of the easy chairs. He clapped. A light went on behind him in response. Out of his rear pocket, Mark withdrew a datapad. Holding it in front of him, he flipped it on. In an instant, his face was illuminated in an almost eerie blue half-light. His finger pressed a few buttons, calling up an important document. His eyes darted as he read. "Mission Briefing: EYES ONLY" |
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