With the Passing of Time

On the verge, in the black (scavenger ficlet)

Posted on: May 8, 2008

I’m not particularly happy with this, mainly because a good ficlet or drabble should feel more complete than this does. But maybe I’ll get inspired to develop this into an actual story one of these days.

T’Lara completed the scan of the derilect ship’s interior and made special note of the location of what seemed to be extra fuel stores that hadn’t leaked or been burned after the craft had turned into space junk. The spin and pitch were too random to make docking at the airlock feasible, however; she’d have to get to it by jetpack instead. “No worries,” she murmured to herself as she set the Epsilon into orbit a safe distance from the ship.

Plugging her personal display unit into the console, she carefully downloaded all the relevant scans, schematic drawings and floor plans she found in the computer for the class of spaceship she was about to loot. If the information she had was correct and if everything went well, she should be able to restock some of her fuel, medical and food supplies as well as have a few items available for trade. Times had been particularly spare lately, and she was tired of living on the verge of dire.

Checking the data and the Epsilon’s diagnostics one final time, she headed for the airlock. One quick extravehicular trip with the mini-gravtransport and she’d be better prepared for the next few weeks on her own. She’d grown accustomed to the solitude of space, but being alone meant it was far safer to scavenge for needed supplies rather than count on planet-side courtesy and fair play. Once she had the essentials she’d head for the nearest station or port; for now she was content to stay out here in the black.


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Willingness to join soil, sound, hands; memory follows me ~ Viggo Mortensen


Daily words come from Merriam-Webster's word of the day. All rambling comes from my head.


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