Airlock Pt. 1

A lone Corvette floats silently and serenely across the velvet black of the void pin-pricked by billions of holes made of flickering light. The Corvette moves tangentially to the crimson pulsing waves of a red dwarf. The continuous explosion of plasma forges new elements from the heaviest materials matter can craft and the warm amber glow bathes the opened fuel tanks of the ship as they recharge. Along the side of the ship, against the brushed metal of a hull that has seen many years of repair, the ship code S1-L3n7 is emblazoned in large black block letters. Within the cockpit of the small vessel reclines a singular humanoid form.

The figure's face is lit up by the gleaming light of multiple floating projection displays casting out various forms of data, starmaps, charts and arcane numbers all scrolling too quickly to be processed by a non-augmented brain. Looking through the projections reveals a face shaped to resemble that of a human but made of entirely non-organic materials. The eyes stare unblinking with a slight red glow as the metallic shutter of the iris opens and closes in minute, precise flickers to capture the clearest recording as it flashes to an internal synaptic drive. Metallic hands with various tools, gadgets and connecting interfaces lay sequestered behind a smooth synthetic skin membrane. These hands lay resting on a comms input interface directly manipulating each of the ethereal projections.

One of the projections shows an orange blip swiftly approaching a green sphere in the center. The projections showing charts and series of data flash red briefly before turning into displays of ammunition counts, fuel levels, energy disbursement, speeds, trajectories, and ship integrity. The comms interface shifts into a weapons firing and agile movement platform and the ship thrums with the steady vibrations of fuel collectors closing and ordnance arming. A rotary cannon spins up, belt fed ammunition clattering into a fire ready state as a light tachyon pulse laser extends away from the hull of the ship, heat sinks flaring outwards like an animal stretching limbs too long unused. Missile platforms extend on both sides of the Corvette and begin cycling to each missile performing a series of self-tests. A field extends outwards from the ship looking like a wave of electric plasma and the mark next to ECM switches from red to green, the field generates an orb of scattered junk information that looks like background radiation noise to sensors, effectively hiding the ship until it's too late to make any choice aside from confrontation. The projections flash a green check mark on each combat system as it passes muster and with a swift movement of one hand the metallic being rotates the ship to face the orange blip that has nearly arrived into the detailed sensor scanning range that the green sphere signifies.

Just as swiftly as it began, the vibrations and hums fall silent. The ship has stopped its orbital path and has stabilized with thrusters into a stationary position with a precision only achievable with machinery. There is no movement in the cockpit save for the steady advance of the amber flashing orb. The machine's iris' close to pinholes and if there was emotion there it would have to be described as tense anticipation.

They say waiting is the worst part.

The orange blip passes into the green sphere and the projection zooms in to a new perspective. The Corvette's image is now sitting in the center of the projection and the unknown object flashes as the ship's scanners attempt to resolve any form of details. The object solidifies into a lone Frigate armed with only two rotary cannons and four missiles. The missiles reveal themselves to only be solid projectile payloads on simple fuel delivery systems. The scan hits eighty percent without revealing anything noteworthy until a yellow exclamation point appears. In the cargo hold there are trace amounts of radiation that can only be left behind by very rare, very expensive, and very dangerous minerals. Calculating the odds quickly the machine pilot only hesitates a moment before launching a robust scan. This had the chance of revealing the Corvette's position, but logically the odds played out in favor of scanning.

Ping.....Ping...........Ping............Blip. Blip.

Two more ships begin to resolve in the scanner projection. A destroyer twice the size of the frigate and a Corvette escort slightly larger than the S1-L3n7. The scanner instantly pings multiple instances of yellow exclamation points as the cloaked ships reveal cargo holds filled with the rare minerals. These ships were armed significantly deadlier than their frigate decoy.

--TO BE CONTINUED--

SERIOUSLY TOMORROW I WILL DO PART 2. I LIKE THIS.