Chapter 4
Vast space was no longer the freedom it had once seemed for Paula. She had once thought of it as her only home, but ever since that day so many years ago it reminded her of what she had lost. It made her feel quite old, even though when it came down to it, she was only thirty, an age which was considered little more than a teenager in the age of extended lifespans.
She suppressed a sigh, while gazing absently at the blue and green screens she was supposed to be monitoring while her two crew members spent all day screwing each other at the back. A part of her had known it would be a bad idea to hire a couple, but there was nothing she could do about that for a while. She bit her lip in irritation, promising herself that she'd get rid of them at the next spaceport.
Just then one of the sensors bleeped, and she was forced from her stupor. She felt a pang of annoyance. It had taken her a long time to fall into that state, and she didn't appreciate being pulled out of it. Still, she always felt grateful that the brightly lit screens notified her when something was off, because keeping track of that much information was pretty much impossible.
The red type told her that they were in close proximity to an inhabited star system, while neural scanners detected her response. She ran her fingers through her messy brown hair, unsettled by the scanners, even though she'd long had microchips implanted in her brain. Everyone did, because without it, how could you interface with technology?
In any case, the spaceport was where they were going, because Paula needed to contact her superiors, and the only way to do that was through a spaceport communication. Besides, she needed information.
It was three hours before she was stood on rusty steel, holding back a grimace so as to not be rude. Her useless crew members were staying on the ship, but if she found two replacements, they would be kicked off in a moment. She didn't care what they'd do on this dump of a spaceport, but quite frankly she didn't care.
She didn't even know what they place was called, but it didn't matter. There was bound to be some kind of technology she could use, because otherwise the port would no longer be in use. Just how every single backward hunk of metal got their hands on such technology, she didn't know, but they were convenient enough as pit stops to be profitable. Every trader spaceship stopped by at one at some point, and there were a lot of trader spaceships.
After securing the door, Paula began to walk slowly through the smattering of people in the private spaceplane section of the port. There was no doubt it was the most neglected section, simply because it was that way in every spaceport in the inhabited universe. Trader vessels were much more profitable, simply because of their size. In fact, they were the sole reason spaceports of that kind existed.
The spaceports were a relic of the past and a dented metal beacon of the future. They were built and maintained by inhabited planets nearby, to make it easier for spaceship owners to refuel while flying trading routes. The practicality of lower gravity was a profitable idea, it seemed, and within a century there was a spaceport next to every major planet, as well as many of the minor ones. In fact, it was next to impossible to differentiate major planets from minor ones. Power was relative to neighbours.
Shaking her head, Paula realised she'd walked much farther than she had planned, if indeed there was a plan in her head. She let a grimace form from her immaculate features, engineered so by her parents.
She was getting out of the spaceport as soon as possible; it wasn't negotiable.
In any case, the spaceport was where they were going, because Paula needed to contact her superiors, and the only way to do that was through a spaceport communication. Besides, she needed information.
It was three hours before she was stood on rusty steel, holding back a grimace so as to not be rude. Her useless crew members were staying on the ship, but if she found two replacements, they would be kicked off in a moment. She didn't care what they'd do on this dump of a spaceport, but quite frankly she didn't care.
She didn't even know what they place was called, but it didn't matter. There was bound to be some kind of technology she could use, because otherwise the port would no longer be in use. Just how every single backward hunk of metal got their hands on such technology, she didn't know, but they were convenient enough as pit stops to be profitable. Every trader spaceship stopped by at one at some point, and there were a lot of trader spaceships.
After securing the door, Paula began to walk slowly through the smattering of people in the private spaceplane section of the port. There was no doubt it was the most neglected section, simply because it was that way in every spaceport in the inhabited universe. Trader vessels were much more profitable, simply because of their size. In fact, they were the sole reason spaceports of that kind existed.
The spaceports were a relic of the past and a dented metal beacon of the future. They were built and maintained by inhabited planets nearby, to make it easier for spaceship owners to refuel while flying trading routes. The practicality of lower gravity was a profitable idea, it seemed, and within a century there was a spaceport next to every major planet, as well as many of the minor ones. In fact, it was next to impossible to differentiate major planets from minor ones. Power was relative to neighbours.
Shaking her head, Paula realised she'd walked much farther than she had planned, if indeed there was a plan in her head. She let a grimace form from her immaculate features, engineered so by her parents.
She was getting out of the spaceport as soon as possible; it wasn't negotiable.
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