Another late delivery. Keziq had been out of the academy delivering shipments for only three months, but already he could tell it wasn’t working out. Dozens of late shipments. Nearly thirty customer complaints. Only five top-rated deliveries, and this one was his fiftieth delivery overall. The big five-oh, and it was going to be late.
In a way, he wanted to blame something. This time, for example, he had been sitting in the queue behind dozens of shippers and was forced to wait for quite some time as the highly popular jump destination rebalanced the accretion mass. It hadn’t taken long, but it had set off a chain reaction of events that resulted in yet another shipment being delayed. He’d been late arriving for that first jump, had forgotten entirely that he had three containers worth of deliveries in that system, so he’d jumped off to the next delivery without unloading it.
That had required him to refuel his jump rods before jumping back, and that had cost time and money. It was a hard job requiring more organization than he felt he could manage. Plus, the money just wasn’t that good… unless you got those early arrival bonuses. But that required being organized.
He sat up, knocking a can of Space Chow (the slogan “It Makes Its Own Gravy” all but covered under the congealed remains of the “gravy”) off of his cluttered dashboard. He realized he’d forgotten to actually lock the computer onto the destination, and the countdown timer for the flip and burn was now at negative two hundred seconds and climbing.
“Oh shit”, he muttered, his voice loud in the empty bridge.
Keziq pulled off his headphones and hurriedly shoveled the messy piles on his dashboard and console into a storage bin and slammed it shut. The now-uncovered “EXECUTE” button pulsed angrily, as if it was personally offended it had been forgotten. He slapped the button, leaving another greasy mark on the scratched and pitted screen.
The ship lurched crazily and he was thrown free of his seat, having forgotten entirely to grab on or buckle in. He floated a bit as the acceleration dropped into temporary weightlessness, grasping desperately for any sort of handhold. His fingers hooked a rung just as the ship rumbled and groaned under the full-power thrust the engines were producing in their attempt to get him back on the flight path. His wrist hurt under the two G load, but he had been able to keep from slamming into anything sharp or especially fragile. Just the crew lockers.
Once the thrust stabilized and the bridge re-oriented, Keziq got his feet under him and limped back to his chair. Throwing himself down into the mess of stains and detritus that he called his “Office”, he brought up the manifest, selected the current shipment, and locked the destination into the nav computer. More complicated than the ships at school, but then his bosses weren’t especially interested in loaning modern state of the art ships to the worst shippers.
He watched dejectedly as the delta v climbed past the energy budget his engines could sustain, and the arrival time shot up. Right now, even burning at max power for as long as the engines could sustain, he’d fly right past the station and possibly even past the planet it orbited. Fancy schmancy pilots who had taken notes in the unbelievably dry orbital mechanics classes could probably figure out a way to make it, but they probably also would have set the destination lock in the first place. Whereas all Keziq had done was jump into the system and point his ship in the right direction.
Shit. Time to make an embarrassing call. “This is freighter Altivo Shippers Gamma Forty-Five to Pistorius Station, requesting course assistance”, he said dejectedly into the taped together headset surmounting his large grey head.
“This is Pistorius Station Navigation Control, proceed Gamma Forty-five” came the response a few moments later.
“Please transmit course for intercept… my uhhh… my nav computer had an issue on approach.”
There was a long and pregnant pause, Keziq felt every bit the rookie he was. Absolutely humiliating, and he knew they’d probably demand an inspection report before he’d be cleared for departure. A few dozen seconds later, his console lit up with a new option. It read “Allow remote helm control?” in big bold letters. Wow, so they were going to go that way with it?
“Not like I have a choice” he muttered, hoping his mic was off, and then tapped the big check mark. The ship’s engines took on a different noise, and the vibration changed subtly. The course data now showed a series of loops of the planet then an approach to the station. That probably would have been obvious to him if he’d paid attention. He remembered reading somewhere that passing close to a planet there was friction from the atmosphere, or the gravity or something. Honestly, he’d been too busy day dreaming or playing on his PDA to pay much attention. Eighteen weeks was a long time to focus on something.
Keziq put his small feet up on the dash and kicked back, his headphones back on and a bubble popping game on his PDA. By the time the planet was taking up the view screen, he’d all but forgotten the stressful entry into the system. Altivo Shippers had not.