The enormous Gateway station lay in a low Earth orbit. One of the primary hubs for the shipment of both freight and personnel between the planet and all of the colonies spread across the solar system, it was a mass of residential blocks, vast cargo bays, and docking ports.
A mission was scheduled to depart from here today to rush replacement parts, food stuffs and medical supplies out to a starship that was now limping slowly through interstellar space, damaged by the impact of an errant asteroid. It was an important mission and needed to be done with all due haste, but something was delaying the loading of the cargo containers onto the transport vehicle
Galileo VII
.
Designed for the speedy delivery of urgently needed supplies and equipment, the
Galileo VII
was much smaller and faster than the massive freighters that carried the great bulk of humanity's cargo through the depths of space and so was perfect for a mission like this. With most of it's interior space taken up by over-powered engines and cargo space, there were precious few creature comforts available for the crew. Thanks to the wonders of modern computerized automation though, only four people actually needed to be inconvenienced to keep her operating effectively. At this moment, the crew of the
Galileo VII
was still back on the station, having their breakfast and receiving a final mission briefing.
Unfortunately, something seemed to be slowing down the loading of the cargo and thus jeopardizing the departure time that had been scheduled. With rapidly growing annoyance, the dock master could only watch helplessly as the standardized cargo containers backed up, the 'bots who were supposed to be moving them seeming to take forever to come back for the next load.
Marching into his office, Chip Monk went straight to the computer and called up which team was supposed to be overseeing the loading of the
Galileo VII
this morning. When the names came up, a moan that spoke eloquently of long suffering escaped him.
He really should have guessed.
"Computer, I wish to communicate with First Technician Helen Highwater."
The machine answered immediately. "Connecting."
A wall mounted monitor lit up to reveal a woman in her early thirties sitting behind a desk. She was a woman of modest looks with unmanageable mousey brown hair cut short in a style that did nothing to accentuate the shape of her face. Her eyes were a dull and lifeless brown, hidden behind a pair of spectacles, her nose was large, and her wide mouth was framed by a set of thin lips. Naturally, she was dressed in her uniform, a body hugging set of coveralls that did nothing to conceal just how plump she was or how small her bosom was.
She didn't seem to have noticed that the communicator had hummed into life and was totally engrossed in reading a book, the cover of which revealed it to be one of those gothic, bodice ripper romances.
Chip waited a moment, but when she continued to fail to notice him, he quietly cleared his throat. She didn't hear it, running her tongue over her lips as she reached a particularly steamy passage of her novel. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat again, much louder this time.
He was heard loud and clear this time and he had to admit that the way that book was hidden away in an instant was actually pretty impressive. If he hadn't seen the truth for himself, he might well have bought the fiction that she had been doing her job. "Dock Master Monk!" she said with a big, but patently insincere smile. "How good to see you this morning, sir! You're looking very well today. Have you been working out? I'm sorry for not noticing you earlier, but I was just so engrossed in tracking the loading of the
Galileo VII
. . ."
"About the
Galileo VII
," Chip interrupted, hoping to cut through the crap and get straight to the point. "Something is slowing down the cargo loading. I've checked and the problem isn't at my end of things, so I need you to check up on your subordinate before we have to delay the ship's departure."
"Oh, I am so sorry, sir. I had been tracking the situation of course," she lied, "but I hadn't realized it was as bad as that. I can assure you it's not at all my fault in any way whatsoever."
"Your team was tasked with overseeing the loading, First Technician," was his blunt reply. "As the leader of the team, in the final analysis it is your responsibility."
"But . . ."
"Just get it fixed," he growled. "And fast."
"Yes, sir. I promise you I'll have this problem fixed before you know it."
* * *
Striding along the short boarding tube that led from the space station with a brisk and efficient step that told everyone she passed that her errand was urgent, Helen Highwater had an annoyed frown on her face as she made her way into the craft that was docked here.
Her mission to find out what was holding things up this morning was a simple one, in truth. She already knew without question just who was causing the problem.