Space United Jason, episode 1

Hello Meh! So, uh, I kind of wrote myself into a severe corner with Uksi. This time I’m trying something a little more in my wheelhouse, that will hopefully also open up for more input from you guys! This story is a little more sci-fi, and will periodically need your help “Choose Your Own Adventure” style:

The bold new future humanity has dreamed of is here. Join the growing ranks of Space United, the first privatized space exploration force in the history of the known universe. Seek a bold new future light years from Earth. Earn money to send home or save enough to retire in luxury. Space United: The Future…is Unfathomable.

“Name?” An iron woman in a uniform the color of blood eyes me from behind the data tab she’s holding at her chest. Her eyes are steel gray, and presently drilling through me. Everything that’s happened over the last 15 years to bring me here rushes back over me and I find myself a lost, yowling kid begging for a grownup to help. I’ve temporarily forgotten my own name.

“Quinn Berg.” Nailed it.

“What the fuck is a Quinbert?” She raises an eyebrow in a way I can only describe as menacing. I’ve never been menaced by an eyebrow before. She’s probably just trying to ferret out any potential stowaways. I’ve already passed basic training. I’m in. I’m in! She can’t kick me out now! Can she?

“No, sorry, ah, it’s last name Berg, first name Quinn.”

“Why didn’t you say that?” Great question.

“Sorry.”

“Mazel Tov, Quinbert. Get aboard Jason.” She starts to walk away, already forgetting the interaction entirely. I turn around. A tall, broad-shouldered dude stands behind me. He’s pleasantly olive-colored, with beautiful brown eyes that are the color of that fancy chocolate you get that’s like 95% cocoa and you can barely eat it but you tell yourself it’s healthy. He looks at me in a way that suggests he is not expecting me to mount him right now in front of data tab lady.

“Sorry?” I don’t remember this being part of the video orientation. I’m not entirely opposed, but I’ve never been much of a flirt and Jason’s not exactly waving me home, here. Is she just going to watch us? Oh god, am I getting turned on at the thought of this stern grandmother-looking woman ordering me to hump some rando as part of a bizarre hazing ritual into corporate space exploration?

“You’re assigned aboard The Jason,” she jerks her chin sharply in the direction of the shuttle bays. Okay, so that could’ve been awkward but it wasn’t! Except Not-Jason definitely seems to have picked up on what was about to transpire and has visibly backed away from me.
“Sorry dude,” I apologize and reach up to pat him on the shoulder - why am I patting him on the shoulder - as I walk, very briskly, to the shuttle bays. He mutters something about boundaries but I am content to pretend I’m out of earshot.

I make my way to Shuttle Bay 13 and spend a not-insignificant amount of time convincing myself that this is not an omen of any kind. Omens! Ha! No one believes in omens nowadays! I’m about to board an actual fucking SPACE SHIP, for crying out loud! No time to read the tea leaves, shaman!

That felt racist. Sorry. I meant it as more of a literary reference but even when referencing ancient texts from the 20th century written by very flawed people living under very flawed systems, it’s important to be culturally sensitive. The doors to the bay open and there, in its glory, is The Jason.

It’s incredibly tiny.

Like, six rows of seats tiny. I guess I’ve never been aboard a star cruiser to know what to expect, but I kind of hoped there’d be windows. A sharp, barking voice interrupts my train of thought.

“Jason?!” Another blood red uniform, this time on a short, wide dude with skin the color of hazelnuts.

“No. Quinn. Quinn Ber-”

“Are you assigned aboard The Jason?”

“Oh. Yeah. I haven’t gotten my specialization yet. Is one of these rows engineering or something?” He looks at me like I’ve just said something very inappropriate or very dumb.

“This is the shuttle,” he says slowly, over-enunciating each word. "Sit anywhere. We’ll be taking off to dock with The Jason in 13 minutes.” Oh. It was dumb then. I sit down in the front row, facing a wall of slightly glossy gray. Not a display monitor or touch panel or flashing light to be seen. I’m starting to wonder if I’ve made a mistake, but I cheer myself up with the knowledge that of COURSE they’d skimp on the shuttle. That’s just got to haul people back and forth. The actual ship will be much more impressive.

We leave roughly 20 minutes behind schedule after waiting for some jerk named Alan to get to the shuttle bay. I make roughly a dozen attempts at small talk that all go down in flames before I give up and stare off into space. Except not into space, because there are no windows. I could literally stare off into space if there were. Instead I’m just pretending the gray wall is the most interesting thing on earth. Off earth. Whatever. Someone farts. The smell is awful.

We dock with The Jason after 45 minutes or so, most of which is spent twirling around loosely in orbit while the ships match rotations and speeds and stuff. The low gravity maneuvering is insanely disorienting, and nearly everyone on the shuttle makes use of the sick bags. Soon I’m longing for the smell of that fart as the entire room reeks of bile and half-digested food.

There’s no welcoming party, which I guess makes sense but I was kind of hoping for some “welcome aboard” speech from the captain or something. Instead a glum-looking woman approaches wearing a uniform so aggressively starched that the creases look as if they could cut me.

Without saying a word she motions for me to hold out my hand, so I do. She drops a small green disk into my palm. It’s about the diameter of one of those peppermint candies, but only a few millimeters thick.

“What do I*-AAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH*!” before I can even ask, the disk begins burrowing its way into my palm, spinning and cutting a small hole in my flesh and tucking itself deeper and deeper inside.

“This is your biomarker,” she drones. She’s probably made this speech a thousand times. “Think of it like a dog tag. It will stay on your person at all times, and the ship will grant you access to authorized areas.” She stops to look directly into my eyes. “It may hurt a bit at first.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before you did it?!”

“I like it better this way.” She shrugs. “You have your first day aboard ship to orient yourself. Your shift begins at 0600 ship time. Find your quarters and try to get some sleep.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know what my department is. Do I find that out tomorrow? Is there an orientation?” I don’t like the way she smiles at me. My hand is killing me. I think that thing is still spinning.

“Oh my cloud, you’re precious,” she says flatly. That doesn’t make me feel any better. I head deeper into the ship, adjusting to the artificial gravity. It doesn’t look very much like the commercials. Everything on the TV was smooth lines, clean walls, sharp haircuts. There’s a lot more exposed steel and rivets than I would’ve expected.
The ship does have some technology aboard, though. The central computer illuminates running lights along the floor to guide me to my quarters. The door sticks a few seconds before sliding up and out of my way with a sluggish, grinding motion.

My “quarters” amounts to a cell of a room, roughly 8 x 8 feet. There is a spartan cot against the far wall. A folded piece of laminum rests on the pillow, which I pick up immediately. The text is in a loopy, cursive font except for the obvious sections where variable data has been pasted from a database in some kind of brick lettering.

Welcome aboard the Space United Starship JASON. We are a SALAMANDER class vessel charged with EXPLORATION - GENERAL the cosmos. This journey wouldn’t be possible without our dedicated crew, including you, QUINBERT. Please report to CARGO BAY 7 at 0600 ship time for your first assignment. You have been designated GAPASS.

GAPASS? I thought for a second. Engineering? No. Weapons and Tactical? Probably not. GAPASS? That didn’t sound good at all. Definitely not going to see sharp haircuts in GAPASS. I felt a slight lurch in my stomach, but maybe that was just the ship pulling away from Earth and everything I’ve ever known and loved.